#at this rate it would be wise for me to just answer asks and queue them to post during normal hours | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ola-elaina · 4 years

Text

PAUSE CHALLENGE

Summary: peter and y/n messing with each other once again, overflowing milk and too much ketchup and y/n putting peter in a tough situation

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: here’s another fic that’s been rotting in my drafts. enjoy!

“Peter’s inside with a 50-kilogram dumbbell and he hasn’t put it down since I came in and that was 5 minutes ago. What are you kids doing?” Steve asked when he saw you making your way towards the gym where you left Peter to get some water.

You chuckled. “We’re doing a challenge.”

“Well, you better get back to him. He looks like he’s going to pass out.”

“He’s fine. He’s Spider-Man.”

Steve faced you fully, putting his hands on his hips and stern look on his face that he only gives you when you and Peter does something stupid.

“Okay, okay!” You said defensively and ran back to the gym.

“Okay, Peter! Play!” Pointing a make shift remote towards him which is actually your phone.

Peter groaned, dropping the weights on the ground practically throwing it. You grimaced. His face and arms were red as tomato.

“Y/N!”

“I’m sorry! I mean, you’re Spider-man and you’re like a thousand times stronger than me. You literally held a torn in half ship by the webs, what’s a 50-kilogram weights?”

“My arms are going to be sore! You left me for so long! We’re doing this for fun not to torture each other!”

“I’m sorry. I’ll tone it down a little.”

***

The next day, Peter found you in the gym this time. You were on the treadmill starting off the workout that Nat tailored specially for your training.

He peeked his head on the door and saw Natasha giving you instructions. A little while later, Peter saw her making her way out the gym.

When she reached the glass door, Peter acted as if he wasn’t there for the last 10 minutes waiting for her to leave the room. Nat only smile and nodded when she walked past him which Peter returned back.

He waited for a few seconds before coming in making sure she’s far enough from the gym to mess with you.

Nat is strict with her trainings, making sure that when she’s training or training you, focus is all on the workout. And Peter definitely does not want to know what happens if he disrupts that but she’s not here right now.

Peter approached the treadmills, your back was to him.

It’s payback time, he thought.

“Well, well, well.”

“Peter, no. Not right now.” You said when you saw Peter holding a remote.

He laughed, evilly. You felt your heartbeat double its rate and not because of the running.

“No!”

“Yes!”

“NO!”

“Pause!”

“AhHH—!” You screamed, feeling your life flashed before your eyes. It felt like everything was going in slow motion, your heart beating loud against your ribcage. Well I guess this is it, goodbye face.

You waited for your body slam down against the treadmill and break your face.

But it didn’t come.

Your eyes was shut tight. When 5 seconds past and you were still not on the ground, you open of your eyes and saw Peter holding his laughter.

You breathed out. “What a dick!”

Peter roared with laughter. “It was just a scare. I wouldn’t let you fall!” Stopping in between words because he was laughing so hard.

“Nat’s going to kill you if she finds you bothering me.”

“I know. I just sneaked it to get back at you. Bye!” With that he bolted off the gym, allowing you to return to your run.

***

Monday morning came and Peter slept in the compound so the two of you were driving to school together.

When you came in the kitchen, Peter was making himself a bowl of cereal. An idea popped in your mind.

You waited to come in when he’s about to pour the milk. When he did, you immediately came in. “Pause!”

He gasped, mouth staying open as he stared at you in disbelief. When he looked back down his bowl, it was almost to the brim of the bowl.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. Y/NNNN!”

You laughed.

“It’s going to overflo—”

“Okay, play.”

“Well, it’s too late for that!”

Peter stood up, looking at his leg pant wet with milk.

“Agh! The hem of the jeans is wet. We’re going to be late.”

“Chop, chop then.” You said, leaving the kitchen as you bit the apple you grabbed from the counter.

***

It was your third period, physics which you and Peter shared. The whole class was chatting quietly and waiting as names are called one by one.

Mr. Harrington was giving back the test he made you answered last Friday.

Peter, who already got his, was awfully quiet beside you, flipping through a notebook. You brushed it off and waited silently for your name to be called.

Five names later…

“Y/N.”

You were literally halfway through standing up when Peter pulled out a remote and said, “Pause.”

“Y/N?” Mr. Harrington called again, looking at you with confusion.

You widen your eyes at Peter. “Peter, press play!” You hissed at him through your gritted teeth.

Peter hid his laugh by covering his face with a hand but his giggles still escaping his mouth.

“Ms. Stark, are you okay?” Mr. Harrington inquired, making the whole class look at you as you were still stood frozen on your seat. You felt your cheeks burn, making you send a death glare at Peter.

“Okay, play, play!”

You quickly walked away from your seat to Mr. Harrington to grab your paper.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Harrington! My leg cramped.”

“It’s okay.”

When you got back to your seat, you smacked Peter’s arm discreetly. “Aw!”

“That’s so fucking embarrassing! Ugh!” You groaned, covering your face with both hands. Face still hot from embarrassment.

***

You still haven’t gotten over the embarrassment until lunch. So of course you had to get back at Peter.

You, Ned and Peter are now in line to get some food. Peter was behind you and when it was his turn to grab his food, you pulled out the remote from your jean pocket that you stole from his backpack, “Pause.”

The lunch lady, Teresa, arched a brow at him. She laughed, shaking her head.

Teresa has worked at Midtown even before you and Peter started attending the school. The two of you have pulled pranks on the cafeteria which she unfortunately has witnessed all.

So when she sees you both doing some stupid stuff she would just laugh it off.

A few minutes later, MJ arrived at the table you and Ned picked. The two of you were watching him just standing in the queue. The other students would just look at him weird and move past him.

“Why is he just standing there?”

“It’s for a challenge they’re doing.” Ned answered before taking a bite off his burger.

You laughed, standing up from your seat. “Okay, I think I’m satisfied.”

“Play!” You said as you reached where you left him

“You really had to do that when everybody is literally in line for lunch?”

You goofily stuck your tongue out to his direction.

***

Now you and Peter are in the common kitchen, about to eat the sandwiches you got from your stop at Delmar’s.

You were squirting some more ketchup on your sandwich when you heard Peter say, “Pause.”

You gasped, mouth hanging open as you looked at him. “Peter! I only wanted a little bit!”

“Let me help you with that.” Peter laughed, placing his hands around yours and squeeze the bottle harder, more ketchup coming out of the bottle.

“Okay, play.”

“Ewww! You ruined my sandwich!” You pointed the bottle at him and squirted some ketchup at his direction, making you laugh as well.

***

Later that night, your dad summoned you and Peter to talk about some new specs that the both of you wanted to add to your suits.

A few moments later, your dad asked Peter to tighten something behind a suit his working on. You were watching Peter do what your dad instructed from the side table.

“Woah, okay. Too tight, Parker.”

“Oh—”

“Pause!”

Tony cocked his head towards your direction where you were giggling.

“Y/N! Press play!”

Your dad groaned. “What play? Kid, loosen the back.”

Peter looked at him and the at you, obviously conflicted.

“Peter! Whatever the hell you’re playing right now, I want no part of it.”

“Uhhh…”

Your laugh boomed throughout the lab.

“Now, we get to see which Stark he’s more afraid of.” You announced, jumping off the stool you were sitting on.

Before you exited the lab, you yelled out. “Choose wisely, Parker!” Followed by an evil laugh.

thanks for reading! feel free to send requests, questions or just talk to me on my ask!

if you want to be added to my peter parker, tom holland or permanent taglist, let me know <3

320 notes · View notes

writeyouin · 5 years

Note

You trade yourself for a sibling you couldn't save. Instead of a goblin, Jareth makes you a servant & has you do everything, even petty tasks like polishing his boots & brushing his hair. He starts to fall in love as you read to goblins or play with wished away children, but he demands too much & you faint during your chores, making him sick with worry & guilt. He nurses you to health, stating you're no longer a servant, but he hopes you'll stay with him as his lover & eventual betrothed.

Jareth X Reader – The Love of a King

A/N – The cat drugs wore off and I’m good to write again ^_^

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

You couldn’t believe you’d failed. You had been selfish enough to wish your sibling away and then you couldn’t even get them back from the ridiculously hard Labyrinth put before you by the Goblin King. Jareth knew you’d gotten farther than most in his game, and because of that he was willing to grant you an audience with your sibling to say goodbye, though it wasn’t a gift so much as a curse, because you would have to see them turned into a goblin as punishment for your failure.

“Hurry it up,” Jareth demanded as you clung to your sibling as if your very life depended on it instead of theirs.

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed hideously, choking on the air itself. “I didn’t mean to- I- I didn’t-”

Jareth rolled his eyes; he’d heard all this before from countless others. It was always the same. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. It was an accident. It wasn’t my fault. Hah, it was always their fault; humans with their pathetic excuses. Then, they would go back and live their lives anyway after barely mourning at all; such inconsequential creatures. Lazily, Jareth pushed himself up, waiting for the part where you would beg for mercy which he would of course deny. On queue with his expectations, you let go of your sibling and threw yourself on your knees before him.

“Please, Goblin King, I know- I know my words were selfish- but please… Take me instead. Don’t punish them for my mistakes… Please.”

Jareth could see your sibling was about to argue, and with a wave of his hand, he silenced them, taking their voice away so he could speak uninterrupted. He circled you like a predator. You sat perfectly still, never flinching or cowering away, though what more was there to fear now you had faced up to everything in the Labyrinth itself and still come to a loss? Jareth didn’t know quite what to make of you. Was it possible you were trying to trick him? He had to test you to find out.

Coming to a stop in front of you, he tilted your chin up to face him. Yes, there was definitely hatred in your eyes and a hint of defiance, but he also found a sincerity that was unusual for humans.

“You would be turned into a goblin for this pathetic creature?” He sneered, letting go of you. “Even after wishing it away.”

“Yes, your majesty,” You bowed so your head pressed against the freezing cold flagstones.

Your sibling shook their head vigorously, willing you to look their way, but you wouldn’t; your only job now was to convince the Goblin King to grant your request.

“You do realise,” Jareth sneered, “that if you choose this path, you will have no memory of your former life.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“You will be my subject, pet and plaything.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“You may even be tortured for my own entertainment. You would really subject yourself to such a future, all for that which you so carelessly wished away.”

“…Yes, your majesty,” You said subserviently, glad to have at least stopped crying, though your voice still wavered.

Jareth smiled darkly, having trapped you into a verbal contract which he could now accept or reject at his own desire. “Very well, I accept your terms.”

With a wave of his gloved hand, Jareth sent your sibling home, to never see you again.

Although you were getting a headache from the cold flagstones, you didn’t move, unable to trust yourself not to cry again. Jareth rolled his eyes irritably, and sneered, “What are you still doing there?”

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“Seriously?” You looked up resentfully. “You want me to watch when you turn me into a goblin? What the hell is wrong with you? I mean, you- you- you kidnap people! You just take whatever the hell you want and then you- you put me through hell and now, you’re about to turn me into a freaking goblin and you want me to watch!”

Jareth restrained a smile, enjoying the rant thoroughly; apparently you weren’t as docile as he’d suspected, which was bound to be much more entertaining than if he’d have kept your sibling. “My, my, what a temper you have. I suppose it will have to serve as my entertainment for a while.”

“What are you talking about now?”

“I could answer you, but let me first ask, do you really think it wise to speak to me in such an ill-mannered way?”

“Why not. I won’t remember any of this anyway… I may as well say something worth saying before I forget.”

“Such an interesting pet you’ll be.” Jareth paused like he was thinking, despite knowing exactly what he was going to do next; theatrics were all a part of the game. “Indeed, much too interesting to turn into a mere goblin.”

Despite your confusion, you stared at him stonily, unafraid now that it was only your life in danger. You probably should have been at least a little bit frightened, but after everything you’d seen in the last thirteen hours, you were much too exhausted to feel anything but perplexed and a little bit rebellious.

“Well,” Jareth gestured to you haphazardly, “What are you waiting for, chop chop, get to work!” He transformed your outfit into servant rags and a mop appeared in your hands.

“All that magic and you can’t even clean your castle with it?” You snarked.

“Oh, I can do that and much more, but I find watching others work much more entertaining.”

You scoffed distastefully but kept quiet, not daring to challenge Jareth more than you already had in case he decided to break his oath and trade you and your sibling for the sheer fun of it. You started your task with haste, resigning yourself to your new life as a slave within the Labyrinth.

The orders Jareth gave you were exhausting, humiliating, and never-ending, yet as you cleaned up goblin messes and other such nonsense around the castle, you tried to find happiness in your prison. You had accomplished your goal of saving your sibling, so despite the tasks set to you, you found that you didn’t mind as much. Perhaps that was why all those fairy tale characters like Snow White and Cinderella never complained about their own situations; they knew that somehow, life could be worse and so it was best to accept what they had and take it on the chin.

Despite your resolve, you found the cold hands of loneliness threatening to mottle your heart, so you began speaking with the goblin denizens of the city below the castle. Initially, you found it hard to relate to them but after a while, you got used to their strange ways, even learning to enjoy their wild tricks and games. You soon found yourself visiting the city goblins daily, sneaking away from the castle whenever you could to play with them. You believed that you were being subtle in your few escapes, but unbeknownst to you, Jareth saw everything that happened within his Labyrinth. Sometimes he would leave you be, watching in amusement as you learned the goblin traditions and dances, and at other times he would pretend to have found you by sheer chance and send you back to the castle as punishment with even more work to exhaust you further.

It wasn’t long before Jareth had another contestant in his Labyrinth, and he spent more time watching you than them when you found the dungeon where he kept the wished away prisoners. Although you couldn’t get into the cell, you stayed outside it the entire time, neglecting your chores so you could talk to the child prisoner within, telling her stories aimed to allay her worries. When Jareth had to turn the child into a goblin, he believed you would hate him for it, but much to his surprise, you said it was probably for the best because the pain of knowing the past was torture and at least as a goblin, the child seemed happy.

“Hmm,” Jareth held his hand regally under his chin, observing you as the child-turned-goblin was led away into the city.

“What?” You said, self-consciously.

“You are to attend to my needs tonight.”

“Don’t I always?”

“No. In case you haven’t noticed, you attend the castle’s needs, not mine. Tonight, you are to meet me in my chambers where I will give you several tasks before a grand ball I am to host. After you have seen to my needs, you will serve at this ball, and until then, you are to clean the grand hall in preparation for it.” Jareth pointed to your feet, casting a small spell on them, and making you jump up and down on the spot. “Hop to it,” he smiled impishly.

You squeaked indignantly as your bouncing feet led you to the grand hall; once there, you were free of Jareth’s spell. You slumped irritably against a wall, tired from the long days of hard work that were slowly wearing down on you. Remembering the reason you were in the goblin realm to begin with, you groaned, ignoring the pain in your aching back and getting on with the task at hand. You worked until you knew night had fallen; it was hard to measure time in the Labyrinth because the sky seemed to act of its own accord and clocks were only around during a trial, but somehow, after so long there, you were able to actually feel time rather than measure it.

You stood up, stretching as you made your way to Jareth’s chambers where he sat on a stool in front of a black wooden vanity, decorated with carvings of troublesome goblins in all manners of playful poses. You wondered why he chose that mirror in particular because each wall was covered entirely in mirrors, some large and ornate, others tiny hand mirrors. Upon closer inspection, you realised the mirrors didn’t reflect you or your surroundings, instead they each showed different places, some changing occasionally to show somewhere else.

There was no time to speculate on what you believed the mirrors to be, as Jareth said snarkily, “Do you intend to stand around all day, or are you here to work?”

A hairbrush appeared in your hand which you stared at, dumbfounded. “You want me to brush your hair?”

“It won’t brush itself.”

“You- You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jareth grinned devilishly, “Oh, you’ll know when I’m kidding, my dear. Now come and groom me, you shall have plenty of time for harder work afterwards, I assure you.”

You shook your head incredulously, walking behind him and brushing his hair gently. Jareth raised a curious eyebrow. How hadn’t you noticed that he called you dear? He’d never called you such a high term of endearment before. Perhaps it was plain human ignorance that kept you from noticing his loving term.

Jareth could have told you he loved you and under normal circumstances, whether you returned the sentiment or not, he would have, but these weren’t ordinary circumstances. Fae emotions were clear as day and much stronger than human emotions, but for once Jareth would not say how he felt until he was sure you felt the same. You weren’t fae, nor were you of noble birth. You hadn’t even succeeded his Labyrinth; by all accounts, you were not someone worthy of his recognition and devotion. Yet, Jareth found that after watching you in your caring and hard-working ways that he did indeed love you and it was crushing against him with every breath he took.

With no outlet to his feelings for you, Jareth decided to toy with you. If the work hadn’t been unusual before, then he would put you through everything he could tonight. In human terms this would be the equivalent of children teasing their crushes to get their attention, but Jareth had no time to analyse such thoughts as he made you brush his hair.

He watched you intensely in the mirror, never blinking or taking his eyes from you. You found the image unsettling but said nothing; mostly everything about Jareth was unsettling, though not always in an unpleasant manner, the man was simply unusual to you. You wished you could look away from Jareth’s reflection, but it was like his eyes were holding you in place with the ethereal power he emanated. You stopped what you were doing, holding the brush slackly in front of you and blinking hard as your vision blurred.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Jareth scoffed. “I gave you a job you do.”

“I don’t-” You cleared your throat. “I don’t feel so good…”

Jareth heaved a dramatic sigh, “And I suppose this is your best attempt to get out of work tonight? How utterly selfish, though I suppose I shouldn’t have expected better from a mere human. I should turn you into a goblin right now for-”

You dropped the brush and it clattered on the flagstone floor.

“I-” You never got to finish the sentence as you fainted. With inhuman speed, Jareth spun around to catch you, lifting you into his arms so he could carry you to his bed.

He tapped your cheek gently, smiling to hide his fear, “Come now slave, we have no time for foolish games, open your eyes.”

You didn’t respond and Jareth found himself snapping his fingers to summon a pail of water which floated above your head. “Slave, if you do not open your eyes immediately, you will not see the pail of water that I’m going to drop on you for your insubordination.”

Still, you remained motionless. Jareth waved the water bucket away, taking his glove off to feel your temperature. He was no expert in human health, but he thought you were overly warm, and somewhat clammy.

“Slave… (Y/N), are you sick? You would tell me if it were so, wouldn’t you, my darling?” Jareth sighed, thinking of his treatment of you since you became his servant. “(Y/N), my dear… my love. Has the work been so truly gruelling that you have not even had time to rest? Have I been so undeservingly cruel to you, that you should become ill now?”

His heart raced. Had you not been unwell, you would have had some reaction to hearing his confession of love, as understated as it had been for someone as flamboyant as him. Jareth felt guilt flood into him, for a human it might have been a small stab, but to a fae, the guilt felt like poison, ready to kill him unless he put things right immediately.

Hastily, Jareth summoned some of his more competent guards, ordering them to cancel the ball so he could tend to you personally. Just like time, illness was different in the goblin realm when compared to that of your human realm. So, over the course of weeks while Jareth tended to your every need, you did not wake. Jareth wished he could have simply used his magic to make you well, but even he had his limitations and since fae never got ill, he had no healers to summon.

Every day, Jareth would wash your face with only the finest of cloths to keep you cool. He would then apologise once again, speak to you, telling you of his life and requesting to hear more of yours when you awoke. After that he remained by your side, sometimes reading aloud and other times using his magic to keep you clean, ever the gentleman protecting your decency.

It was exactly thirteen weeks into your slumber that you finally opened your eyes. Jareth was sat by your side reading the story of Hansel and Gretel, commenting on what selfish little beasts the children were for eating the old witches house without offering anything in return, when you soundlessly awoke. Jareth sensed the change immediately and put the book down, grabbing your hand tightly in both of his.

“My peach,” he lamented, “do you forgive me?”

Somehow feeling simultaneously tired and refreshed, you turned to face the man who had invaded every dream you’d had since fainting. Dream Jareth had relayed every word the real Jareth had spoken to you in the waking world. In your dreams, you had attended countless balls and moonlit walks with the man who was your King and master.

“Speak! Please, I must hear you speak.”

You mulled over your words carefully, thinking of how many times since you’d fell asleep that he’d called you my love or some other term of endearment. Did you return his feelings? He certainly had some kind of hold on you, but was that just fae magic or was it something more? “I- You love me?”

Jareth smiled in relief, quickly regaining his composure and moulding himself into the very image of a King. “I do, and what have you to say of that?”

“How can you love a slave? You don’t even like me?”

“On the contrary my peach, I have found many reasons to love you.”

“But-”

“Ah yes, the slave thing, well who brought that up because it was certainly not I. You are freed of your slave status and are now a member or the royal court. You shall be treated to only the finest of everything-”

“So long as I say I love you back,” You said sadly, thinking of how everything Jareth did was for something in return.

“No, no, (Y/N), I clearly cannot buy your love, as much easier as that would be for me. I shall however earn it. I have every intention to court you in the hopes that you will become my betrothed. Nevertheless, you are in control here. Should my affections upset you, all you have to do is say the word and I will leave you.”

‘For a while at least,’ You thought, finishing Jareth’s unspoken sentiment.

Whether you returned Jareth’s love or not, you were at least glad to have a modicum of control over your life once more. “I want to go outside now, I’ve been cooped up way too long.”

Jareth stood up enthusiastically, “A marvellous idea. Allow me to accompany you, I can show you some of the more beautiful areas of the Labyrinth.”

Before you could respond, you found yourself in finely tailored outdoor clothes in a garden with Jareth pointing out a new crop of unruly man-eating plants, quite unlike the Venus-fly traps in your realm. You gulped in the air, unsure of what you would do under the attention of the Goblin King. Still, at least the walk didn’t seem unpleasant; maybe you would get used to him. After all, tomorrow was another day.

Like my work? Buy me a coffee and earn preview of the next fic, or commission me on the commissions page.

#the labyrinth #labyrinth #jareth #jareth x reader #the goblin king #the goblin king x reader #jareth the goblin king #jareth the goblin king x reader #reader #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic #the love of a king #Anonymous

730 notes · View notes

natsspammityspamspamham · 5 years

Text

1. Who’s your celebrity crush?

I don’t have celebrity crushes most of the time. I have people who I think are pretty and people that I admire, but I don’t have any of them that I crush on. Alongside my favourite voice actors (seiyuu), Emma Watson would definitely be up there. There’s something about intelligence that makes a person far more appealing.

2. Are you single or taken?

As single as they come! I haven’t even been in a relationship, and I don’t really have any interests in getting into one!

3. Rant. Just do it.

I’m nervous. I’m doubting. I hate this feeling in me. I feel so out of place, so uncomfortable, and it’s eating me on the inside. I wish I had friends in real life. I really wish I did, but it feels like I’m growing apart from everyone, and I’m pushing them all away because I can’t stand being reminded of my past, and I feel like every step I take is just a desperate attempt to get myself back on track, and I’m trying to be proud of myself. I really am. But I have a hard time acknowledging anything that I do. I never feel like I’m enough. I feel insufficient. I feel like I’m just a statistic. I feel inferior yet superior at the same time. My self-image is warped. I feel like I’m lying to myself and to others. It hurts. It hurts a lot, and I don’t want people to know but I do at the same time. It’s a pain unlike any other, and as much as I can say that I don’t feel lonely, I feel like there should be people in my life that I can call my friends, and I want someone that I can mutually call my best friend without them saying that they are just my “good friend”. I want to know that I mean the upmost to a person without feeling I’m burdening them. I want to be No. 1 at something.

I dream about chasing dreams like becoming a medical professional, but I continue to realize and face my shortcomings that would prove that I’m not really fit for it. I want to do it, but quite frankly, I’m too stupid.

I can’t even articulate what’s truly paining my mind. It’s difficult. I don’t know why my body and mind wants to destroy itself.

But sometimes, I think I fix myself better.

4. Do you think it's okay to separate the artist from the art?

Personally, I’m one of those people who usually say no to this question. Now, if you have weird kinks or like pineapple on pizza, that’s none of my business. I won’t hold it against you. However, I find it hard to separate when things are illegal or morally wrong.

Examples:

Net-juu no Susume was a really heartwarming anime, and it was one of my favourite anime that depicted a wholesome adult romance that unveiled many truths about the real world despite spending its time online, but I would’ve never watched the anime if I would have known that the director was a Holocaust-denier. The rest of the staff? I don’t know, but I felt extremely uncomfortable even reblogging content after I found out.

I was planning on watching Rurouni Kenshin, and to this day, I believe I’m missing out, but I cannot support or condone or even watch a series that has a creator as wretched as Nobuhiro Watsuki. If you don’t know, he was charged in February of 2017 for child pornography. He was fined 200,000 yen. It was a slap on the wrist. Even though Rurouni Kenshin wasn’t a reflection on his person according to fans, I don’t feel keen on watching a show created by such a man.

In regards to actors, this goes for them too. If they are not supportive of the LGBTQ community, if they are racist, if they have committed acts that are cannot be condoned, I wouldn’t want to watch them or anything. Again, I have a hard time keeping track of who’s actually clean in this world, and in Japan, there is a lot of covering up. It was recently revealed that a lot of Madhouse anime that people love were probably made at the expense of animators who are human beings.

5. How many accounts do you have?

I have a few.

@nsisbest385 - my main where I stockpile my music @natsspammityspamspamham - This one where I am really open and reblog everything that I want to reblog (no exceptions; if I don’t even think about it, I just reblog) @natsthinkitythinkthinkthonk - used to be for inspirational stuff/writing, but now it’s mostly seiyuu stuff. I post things for their birthdays. I should’ve made a separate account. @semitranslatedseiyuublog - Where I semi-translate stuff but mostly transfer seiyuu content from Reddit. @awkwardbsd - This account has more followers than all my other accounts combined. It’s for awkward screenshots, memes, and other stuff surrounding the Bungou Stray Dogs universe. @dragontypepropaganda - I didn’t tell anyone this existed until now. I’m generally not on it. I just queue and leave.

6. How many pairs of shoes do you have?

Let’s see... uh... 1 for outside, 1 for exercise, 1 for my house slippers, 3 for orchestra that I never use, 2 dress shoes that I really never use, and I’m supposed to get 1 pair of slippers for outside.

7. Opinion on…

I don’t think I can answer this.

8. How many accounts do you follow?

9. Favourite brand of clothing?

I’ve been wearing more Uniqlo lately, but my wardrobe has a lot of hand-me-downs despite being so sensitive tactile-wise.

10. Name a dog

Atticus (boy) and Haruko (girl)

11. What unusual talent do you have?

I can whistle. I haven’t tried in a while, but I can put my feet behind my head.

12. What’s the most interesting school's gossip you’ve ever heard?

Keep in mind, I was only in school until grade 9-10. One of my PE teachers Ms. Snow had really scary eyes. When she got mad at me (which is pretty frequent considering she didn’t know who I was and kept calling me by other Asian people’s names because “we look the same”), I swear her eyeballs would extend from her sockets a little. They looked like they were about to pop out of her head. My sister said that urban legend states that she once fell down the stairs and both eyeballs popped out. She put them back in and carried on.

13. Ever prank called a store?

I think I almost tried once until I got a scolding or something (wasn’t even my parents).

14. What’s your coffee order?

Don’t have one. I don’t like coffee. I’m generally open to tea.

15. What’s a question do you constantly get asked?

“How are you?” I usually choose the easy route to answer to this question. I just say “good thanks”. You want the truth? I lie to myself.

“Why did you leave school?” It was a living hell. I didn’t feel safe. I was breaking down years ago. School nearly broke me, and if I stayed there any longer, I would’ve died (not an exaggeration).

“What are your hobbies?” I usually just say music and watching cartoons* (anime). They usually ask what else, and I just stare blankly.

16. If you had to get a tattoo right now, what would you get and where?

I wouldn’t want one.

17. Google the top song from the year you were born

Apparently, it’s How You Remind Me by *gasp* Nickelback.

18. Rant about your favourite musician

I seriously wish I was able to go to Sara Bareille’s version of the Waitress. I wish I was able to see it on Broadway. She’s such a talented individual, and she deserves all the attention she gets.

19. What’s your favorite teacher you’ve ever had?

All of my best teachers have been outside of school. I would say that my favourite teachers are my current bass teacher and my taekwondo master who has taught me for over a decade.

20. Describe your blog in 3-5 words

Fando(o)m, ranting, anime, seiyuu, random

21. What’s a conspiracy you believe in?

I believe aliens exist. I don’t think it would be logical to assume that Earth is the only planet that has “intelligent” (I say that very loosely) lifeforms.

“But they don’t have water or oxygen” Bold of you to assume that said aliens would need such a thing. I would think they can adapt like humans and all that. I just think it’s dumb to close ourselves off to believing that there are people other than ourselves that exist in this wide and expanding universe.

22. If you could see any concert tonight what would you choose?

I would really want to see the Waitress. If that doesn’t count, I would want to see some seiyuu singing live. It would depend. Hosoya doesn’t sing much anymore, Maaya Sakamoto has a waitlist longer than my lifespan (I have no luck with lotteries), and Saori Hayami has the same issue. I would want to see Sphere live too, but I don’t know all of their songs.

23. If you could break one of your bad habits which would you choose?

My depression... or my anxiety. Actually, those aren’t habits. I guess the closest I will get is doubting myself and beating myself up.

24. Can you dance? Sing?

A strong no to both.

25. What’s something you can’t stop buying?

Uh… I don’t go out and buy anything. I don’t make money so I don’t buy. However, if I did, I would really want to treat myself to good food and anime stuff.

26. Crowds or small groups?

Small groups... obviously.

27. How long before a trip do you pack?

Depends on where. When it comes to the Philippines, weeks for the Balikbayan boxes and less than a week for my actual clothes (usually pack a ton of clothes because I sweat a lot and “we’re not doing laundry!”)

28. What celebrity would you rate a PERFECT 10?

I feel like I don’t have a good grasp of the culture so I actually can’t say anything about my favourite seiyuu. We don’t even know if that’s their true personality. However, I feel like my perfect 10s are Emma Watson and Robin Williams. They might not be my “crushes”, but they are perfect 10s.

29. What quote or inspirational setting do you think is bs?

“When you hit rock bottom, the only way to go is up!” Nah man, you just don’t know what rock bottom looks like. It’s gonna get worse.

“Don’t fix what isn’t broken!” All because you can’t see what’s wrong with it doesn’t mean it isn’t broken. Yeah, I’m talking about the school system.

“Pain makes you who you are. It makes you stronger.” I can say that my trauma gives me anxiety.

30. If you had to dye your hair an unnatural colour right now, what would you choose?

I go by “Purple Dino” online so I’d have to say dark purple.

31. You can change one thing about your life right now. what are you changing?

I wish I could breathe properly. My allergies make it so hard for me to exist. It affects my breathing, sleep, dental care, and so much more. I think that’s the one physical thing I would change.

32. How old do you get mistaken for?

Apparently, I look like I’m in middle school even though I’m almost a legal adult.

33. What do you think about a lot?

Anime, seiyuu, my own shortcomings.

34. Do you like your Hogwarts house or do you wish you were a different one?

I like Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. I haven’t done my test in a while.

35. What does home mean to you?

Home is where you live. It’s where the heart lives. It’s where you feel safe, and it’s where you can take off the mask that you live in during the day. It’s the place where I don’t have to lie through my teeth. I can cry, I can laugh, I can scream, and I can finally be me.

36. What do you think you’d be arrested for?

I feel like I would be caught for pirating anime even if I don’t profit off it.

37. Have you ever been called down to the principal's office?

I’ve been there, but I haven’t been called down there because I really wasn’t important in school.

38. Post a picture of the outfit you would choose if you could have any outfit you wanted

Probably a dark coloured hoodie with sweatpants. That’s my default during the winter anyway.

39. Describe your aesthetic

Tired dead eyes with existential dread and depression. That’s how I see myself.

40. Answer with one of your ‘school memes’ (inside jokes you have with your class/grade) with no explanation

I’m not sure how to say this, but I was really not in the “right crowd” at school, and I was never let into any of these things. I can’t answer this, and it pains me just to read this because I’m missing out on so much of my youth and “high school life”.

I’m tagging @caratheillustrious who reblogged the questions!

#ask

3 notes · View notes

artistic-writer · 6 years

Text

Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) - CS Werewolf AU - Ch 19

Title: Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) by @artistic-writer artwork by @cocohook38 & @artistic-writer

Rating: E (overall rating) for explicit sexual content, language and themes throughout. Trigger warnings will follow and be added as they are needed to avoid spoilers.

Art by @cocohook38 - Poster - Emma - David - Killian - James - Walsh - Graham - Liam - Brennan - Ruby

Chapter Art by @cocohook38 - Ch1 - Ch2 - Ch3 - Ch4 (NSFW) - Ch5

Art by @artistic-writer - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Werewolf Sunday! Here is ch 19 guys - sorry it’s late but I am back at work now, and I forgot to queue it up!

Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @hookedonapirate who is one of the best beta’s this fandom has to offer - I seriously love her guys, and she deserves all the good things <3 <3 and @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted for her birthday and for creating the @cssns Thank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @courtorderedcake @doodlelolly0910 and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped with the last few chapters. And to @flipperbrain who drew THIS piece of art for this fic in December, before it was even written!

Taglist: @cssns @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat @teamhook @snidgetsafan @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness @lenfaz @therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones @bmbbcs4evr @blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan @onceuponaprincessworld @chinawoodfan @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair @cs-forlife

Want to be tagged/untagged? TELL ME HERE

——————————————————————————————

“To Graham and Ruby!” Brennan declared loudly, arm raised above his head and a small, glass tumbler in his hand. The amber liquid swirled in the glass, and the sound of ice cubes clinking the side of glasses echoed in their corner of the pub as Liam and Killian joined him in his toast.

“Graham and Ruby!” Liam echoed gleefully.

“To Graham and Ruby,” Killian repeated quietly, his voice a soft whisper next to his brother’s. He was happy for his friends, he really was, but he was also now sitting in a public place with his brother and his father, so his anxiety was a little spiked. He gave his father a suspicious sideways glance as he threw his head back and swallowed the rum in his glass, the burn of the liquid causing a warmth in the pit of his stomach.

Three glasses hit the dark wooden table together, years of grime evident in the thickness of the lacklustre varnish coat. It was patchy, shiny in places where others were dull and Killian tapped his outstretched arm at the spot next to his glass. His focus was on his fingertip, the nail digging into the soft table top where it really shouldn’t, and he ground his back teeth a little as a silence fell over their table.

“So,” Brennan began, twisting his body in the chair next to Killian’s so he was facing his son.

Killian knew what was coming and he held up his hand to cut him off, his pointed finger turning into a balled fist instantly. “Please, don’t apologise again,” he bit out.

“Killian,” Liam admonished, a frown on his face. “Not here,” he warned gently, scooting his chair forward under the table when a gaggle of humans sauntered past laughing.

“Look, Killian, you asked me here, remember? I can just as easily not be here.” Brennan looked to Liam for help with his wayward youngest, but neither had time to say a word before Killian snapped again.

“Oh, that’s what you are good at, isn’t it? Running away.” Killian slumped back in his chair, fist balling even harder on the table, leg twitching under the table and bobbing up and down on the ball of his foot.

“Okay, let’s all just calm down for a second. Shall I get us some more drinks?” Liam pushed himself to his feet, pausing to await Killian’s response. He was met with silence, his brother clearly haunted by not only his past but also more recent events.

“I’m not sure that would be wise.” Brennan shook his head, pointing at Killian accusingly. They had been in the pub some hours, firstly to celebrate the birth of Davin and then, once the excitement had dissipated, to talk over Kilian’s plan.

Killian had wanted answers. He was convinced his father’s mistakes could change his future, teaching him how to avoid the council and allow him to be with Emma. Only, his father had given him nothing more than the cold, hard realisation that the more he tried, the less likely it would ever be that he could be with Emma. Maybe if she was a lesser wolf, but the heir to Misthaven would never be able to simply disappear. “I think your brother has had enough,” Brennan whispered low, his words directed at Liam.

“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough!” Killian’s voice boomed over the table and the barman shot them a look. “Maybe you should get some more drinks, Liam,” Killian spat, waving an arm towards the bar. “Father might not return if he goes.” Liam sighed, rolling his eyes at his brother’s childish antics and gave his father a knowing nod before making his way to the bar. Brennan watched him go, his demeanour and patience for Killian wearing thin.

“Now, see here, boy,” Brennan growled, leaning over and grabbing Killian by the head. His hand splayed out over the younger wolf’s skull, fingers digging into the thin covering of flesh painfully, and Killian tried to pull away uselessly. “I’m sorry I don’t have the answers you want,” he growled into Killian’s ear, eyes flicking around the pub in case anyone was watching. “But if you want to play this little dominance act, then I would be more than willing to take this outside.” Killian gave his father a sideways glance, their ears touching, and Killian turned his head away from his father’s stare as best he could in his position. “Better,” Brennan said softly, loosening his grip.

“Get off of me,” Killian spat through clenched teeth, wrenching his head from his father’s grip.

Brennan cocked his head sideways, taking in his broken son. Scars, fresh and old, littered Killian’s body from what he could see, and his heart softened instantly. Brennan had known bigger, pureblood wolves with less marks than his son. Killian’s fury was justified, his frustrations even more so. Brennan understood how he just wanted to be with the woman he loved, he had known that feeling, but he also knew Killian was trying to distract himself from the mental scars of being tortured.

It wasn’t his fault. He was half human after all.

“Killian, I can help you be a better wolf,” Brennan coaxed. “Faster and stronger. You can protect yourself, for next time.”

Killian stifled a laugh. “I don’t plan on being tortured again any time soon.”

“Of course not, but…” Brennan didn’t have time to finish his sentence before Killian cut him off anger, his words venomous and spiteful.

“It’s clear you cannot help me with what I need, so stop trying to find ways to bond with me. We are not the same, we never will be. Liam might have forgiven you for breaking our mother’s heart, but you would have to really sacrifice to win my trust.”

“Is your hatred for me or Neverland right now?” Brennan asked gently, trying to pull his son out of his rage. “Or do you just hate wolves?” he suggested, watching Killian flinch at his words.

Killian looked up at his father, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he ground his teeth once more. He was void of expression, the cold, dark stare he was giving his father full of resentment that he couldn’t control. Killian’s inner wolf was channelling his rage and Emma had unlocked the beast, paving the way for his true nature to reveal itself, and whilst it was a human-like wolf for her, he seemed unable to contain his wolfish humanity right now. Killian had thought he was okay with his father, had thought he understood the reasons behind his departure, but as it turned out, he was no closer to being able to welcome him with open arms than he had first thought.

“The only pureblood I’ve seen you tolerate is Humbert,” Brennan sighed, waving a hand at Killian.

“He saved my life,” Killian growled defensively.

“He’s still a purebred, Killian. A big, bad wolf who has done his fair share of killing for his pack. He might have been your savior, but tell me,” Brennan pried, leaning forward until his elbows were resting on the table. He laced his fingers and licked his lips, eyebrows arching on his forehead. “Do you not see how we are all the same?”

“I’m nothing like you. You made Liam and I without a second thought. If you had cared, you would have just left our mother alone and not forced us into this life.” Killian’s cheeks flushed with his anger, pricking pink under his assaulting words, his voice low and even so only a Were could hear.

“So we’re all monsters,” Brennan surmised sarcastically.

“No, not all pureblood wolves are monsters,” Killian grumbled with a shake of his head.

“Of course,” Brennan nodded with realisation. “The Nolan wolf. Emma.”

“Don’t you say her name,” Killian challenged, looking his father up and down from across the table, sizing up his potential opponent for battle. “Blood doesn’t matter with us…”

“And it didn’t with your mother and I,” Brennan interrupted. “And yet, we were ripped apart. Forced apart by the powers that be, the powers that govern our kind.” Killian shot him another look, nostrils flaring. “Her kind, Killian. She is a pureblood.”

“We’ll find a way to be together,” Killian said defiantly. “I will not fail where you have. I will fight for love.”

“Listen to you. You think Nolan will accept you because his daughter loves you? You’re wrong, Killian, and you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I’m willing to die for love,” Killian said in a shaky breath, swallowing hard when his own words took him by surprise. “For some of us, love is more powerful than fear.”

“Is that what you think me leaving you, your brother and the woman I loved was?” Brennan snorted a laugh, slamming his hand down on the sticky table surface. “It wasn’t fear, my boy, it was sacrifice. I sacrificed my love, so that you could all survive.” Brennan’s ear tips turned red, something Killian knew that his own did when he was riled. “You may not believe it, but I love you, Killian. You are my son, and I love you.”

Killian was taken back by his father’s words, the air leaving his lungs and his face paling. He had waited his entire life to hear those words from his father, hear them actually spoken to him rather than in a general passing comment from his mother or brother. It shook him. He wasn’t ready to hear it. “Prove it,” he whimpered, his gruff voice shaking as tears pricked at his eyes. Brennan’s silence spoke volumes and Killian licked his lips, sucking in a defeated breath.

Killian pushed himself to his feet, stopping to look upon his father who was staring at his empty glass in contemplation. Of what Killian didn’t know, but he had given him enough of his time. He needed to get back to Emma, back to Liam’s loft and be with her, to make sure she was safe. He felt like only he could keep her safe but before he could make a move to exit the pub, his father grabbed his forearm and halted him in his tracks.

“Wait,” Brennan said desperately, flicking his gaze up to Killian with pleading eyes. The conflict on Brennan’s features made him frown and Killian titled his head curiously. “There is a plan,” Brennan began, his voice hushed. He tugged on Killian’s arm until his son sat back in his chair, just as Liam arrived back to the table with three fresh rums.

“What plan?” Liam asked dumbly, repeating the tail end of the conversation he had just walked in on.

“Hush, boy,” Brennan whispered gruffly, pulling Liam into his seat too. He leaned forward, chin inches from the grimy table top and both Liam and Killian mirrored his actions. “There is a plan to attack Misthaven,” he admitted, casting a glance around the bar in case they had been followed.

“What? When?” Killian demanded, sitting back up with panic in his eyes. If Misthaven was to be attacked, Emma had to know.

“Soon,” Brennan told him. “I’m sorry, that’s all I know.”

“And how can we trust a Neverland wolf?” Killian growled, wrinkling his nose in disgust and shooting Liam a glance. “After everything.”

“Killian, I didn’t know! Do you think I would have let him do those things to you if I had known you were his target?” Brennan bellowed, exasperated. “Walsh’s orders were to find the Nolan bitch but he got caught up in revenge. He has never stopped talking about how he would kill the wolf who gave him that scar.” Brennan's lips twitched into a proud smile that quickly faded away when he realised what he had said, and to who. “I didn’t mean…”

“Emma should know,” Liam insisted, distracting Killian from berating his father for his choice of words. Liam’s hand on his shoulder shook him roughly and he was confused for a second at Liam’s words. “She should go back to Misthaven.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “You’d both like that, wouldn’t you?”

“To warn her family!” Liam told him, irritated. “Family is important, Killian.” Liam stared at him, his blue eyes flecked with grey that spoke to years of knowledge that Killian would only hope to acquire. Liam was older and he had lived more, loved more and lost more than anyone he knew. “It’s why you can’t go with her,” Liam shook his head defiantly. “You have to warn her and then stay away, lie low.”

“Like hell I will!” Killian barked.

“He’s right,” Brennan piped up. “You will not be welcome at Misthaven. The alpha will kill you because of what you are. You’ll never be accepted.”

Killian looked between the two men, both fatigued and haggard, the lines on their faces from a combination of the sun and long years of worrying. Brennan most likely always worried about Killian, always wondering if he had survived his first change as Liam had. Wondering if he was as strong. Liam had aged through worrying for his brother, watched him try to find out who he was through fight after fight until his brawl with Walsh opened his eyes to his true nature. Killian had nearly killed Walsh that night, teeth stained red with blood as they had fled and Killian simply smiling with an arrogance that showed exactly how close his wolf nature was to taking over. It had chilled Liam to the bone at what his brother was capable of.

“I’ll take my chances at Misthaven. Can’t be as bad as what Neverland did to me,” he said sadly.

“Jesus, Killian,” Liam scolded. “Now is not the time to be stubbornly blinded by love, or lust, or whatever Emma’s heat is doing to you.”

“I’m not,” Killian bit out again.

“Then drop the hero complex and see sense!” Liam pleaded.

“This isn’t about being a hero, it’s about doing the right thing.” Killian pushed himself to his feet once more and straightened his jacket. “If you want to help, you’ll find out exactly when the attack is,” Killian said to his father, who nodded in agreement. “And help Graham get Ruby and Davin to a safe place,” he said to Liam. “If we can warn Misthaven before the attack, we could be spared.”

“This is madness,” Liam sighed into his hands, dragging his hands down his face. “David Nolan will never spare a mongrel. He exiled his own brother!”

“I have to try,” Killian said sadly, giving his brother a tight lipped smile.

Emma was beginning to worry. Killian had been gone for over three hours, talking with his father and Liam in a nearby pub. It was within walking distance but anything could’ve happened to him on his way back. Were they ambushed? Had Walsh finally found them? And why, after so long, had her lust not dissipated? Wolf heats were only supposed to last a few days at most, but it seemed Emma’s was hanging around.

And this time it was more intense than any before. It was definitely because of Killian, Emma had no doubt. From the second she had laid eyes on him in the bar, she was smitten. Using alcohol to lower their inhibition enough to fuck on his car was nothing, something she had done many times before, only this time it felt different. It felt real, warm, and she never wanted to feel any other way.

They were connected, Emma knew it and so did Killian. Whether they believed in the fates or not, there were just too many coincidences to prove their souls were anything but entwined. Emma could feel Killian all the time, his presence forever there, even when he was not. It calmed her a little to know she still felt him in the world, her heart beating in time with his wherever he happened to be, but her anxiety had been steadily growing as she awaited his return.

And it didn’t help that she was horny as hell.

When she finally heard the click of the door latch, Emma was on her feet and running to the door as fast as her legs would carry her. Killian had barely closed the door behind himself when he turned and was slammed into full force by Emma, all of the breath leaving his lungs from the impact as she jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hands were in his hair, her mouth sliding against his as he walked them back into the loft, hands cupping her behind and holding her aloft. There wasn’t an inch between their bodies, Emma flattening herself to his chest and moaning against his mouth when her nipples pebbled against the fabric of her blouse, her back arching for more friction and her mouth parting to invite his tongue inside of her own.

Killian’s mind was in a fog. Everything he had meant to tell her had disappeared the second he opened the door and was overpowered by her scent. Emma was everywhere, in every room and he was immediately turned on, his thoughts invaded by their antics earlier that day. He knew his anger from talking to his father would evaporate with her love, love he craved like the air he breathed. He had needed to touch her, needed to feel her, needed to see her, and now she was all over him, saying everything all at once without uttering a single word.

Killian’s legs hit the edge of Liam’s couch and he fell forward, dropping Emma from his grasp, her fingers scraping through Killian’s scruffy beard and her lips tearing from his. She just had the foresight to grab onto his belt, looping her finger behind the leather strap and pulling him with her, his arms flying out to stop his descent so he didn’t crush her. Killian clambered over the couch arm, a sly smirk across his lips as he captured her mouth once more, tongue begging for entry immediately. His hands found the edges of her blouse, buttons flying in all directions when he pulled the opposing sides apart. Emma squeaked in delight.

Eyes closed, her hands threaded through his beard once more; it was longer than when they had met, but not distracting from his stunning good looks one bit. Her fingers itched to touch his skin, but from her current position she was helpless, only able to find his elfish ears and give them a playful tug, her open mouth smile letting a short, salacious laugh escape against his. Killian raised an eyebrow, not breaking the kiss or opening his own eyes, not an ounce of distaste towards the way Emma was abusing his ears. In fact, he kind of liked it.

Killian awkwardly kicked off his boots, letting them fall to the floor beside the couch with the dull thudding sound of rubber against wood. Emma let her hands roam over his skull, fingertips dancing over the chords of his neck and across the width of his shoulders, his eager panting turning her on more than she had ever thought possible. Killian’s hands kneaded her bra clad breasts roughly, thumbs brushing over the hard buds beneath the padded lace and Emma hooked her bare feet into the back of his thighs in response.

Her hands found his belt, the clatter of metal the only sound they could hear other than their breathing, but as she tried to pull it open, Killian grabbed her hands. Emma was confused for a second, about to pull her mouth from his when, with a smirk, Killian raised her arms above her head and crossed them at her wrists, holding them both against the couch with one, powerful hand. Emma let out a little appeased sigh, her lungs screaming for the oxygen that invaded her chest when Killian slid his mouth from hers and began kissing her face.

He kissed her cheek, flushed red from her arousal, the flesh like lava under his lips. His kiss-swollen lips found her ear lobe and when he latched his mouth onto the bulb of flesh, all of the hair on Emma’s neck stood to attention and she arched off the couch with a moan. Her hands grabbed at his, trying to be free but not really at the same time because the sentiment it gave her to be controlled by a more dominant wolf was intoxicating. She bit her bottom lip, hips bucking up into his as he teased his lips down her neck and slid his searing hot tongue across her collarbone, gobbling up her bra strap with his teeth and pulling it over the curve of her shoulder.

Emma gasped, her nipples hardening even more in their padded confines, the material of her bra chafing against the peaks as she writhed and strained against his grip. She whimpered in her throat, swallowing a hard lump down that she had forgotten to until now. Her mouth tasted of Killian, the burn of second-hand rum hitting the heat in her stomach like a firework and igniting the throbbing sensation between her legs.

Finally, with his own guttural growl, Killian rolled his hips and ground his hardening length into the apex of Emma’s thighs. It was like a paradoxical relief for both of them, sating their needs only temporarily, both of them taking a second to let out a breathy sigh. Killian’s grip on Emma’s wrists tightened, his forehead resting against her shoulder as he fought to compose himself with a shudder after inhaling the smell of her skin.

“Exquisite,” Killian hummed, the taste of Emma dancing on his tongue.

Emma turned her head and pressed her lips to his forehead, the only part she could reach and Killian offered her a quick, wolfish grin as he followed the curve of her breast with his mouth, planting delicate kisses to her skin with each of her heaving breaths. He smirked against her skin when she whined in frustration, his nose dipping into the valley of her breasts and inhaling even more of her strong musk, the perspiration that had begun to form there transferring her pheromones directly to his senses.

“I am helpless when you are around, Emma,” Killian told her tenderly. “I could savour you forever.”

He took his time, dragging the tip of his nose across her breasts, from one to the other and back again, inhaling her, tasting her in his mouth from smell alone. He thrust his hips at her again, his other hand skimming down the side of her body until it reached her hip, pushing her into the cushions of the couch when she tried to buck her hips back at him. Emma pouted but then a devilish grin erupted on her face when Killian’s hand found his jeans and popped open the button, pushing his fly down and sighing with relief when his erection finally sprang free from the fold in his boxers.

“There’s my big boy,” Emma purred, tilting her head back up to meet his gaze and biting her lip hungrily. “So much for savouring,” she purred. Killian grinned, his tongue skimming over the ridges of his canines before he surged forward once more and kissed her hard. Emma felt her neck spasm from the force and she could feel the tingle of pins and needles down her elevated arms. Killian must have read her mind because no sooner had she shifted her weight beneath him to relieve the ache, Killian released her arms and moved both his hands to the waistband of her leggings.

“Mine,” he muttered against her lips, his tone dark and feral. It set Emma’s blood on fire and she was lifted effortlessly as he tugged her leggings and her underwear down in one go, his fingernails scraping the skin on her hip and making her cry out.

“I was getting worried,” Emma smirked playfully. “I was scared something had happened.”

“Hmm?” Killian hummed through a daze.

“You were gone so long,” Emma panted, frowning when she realised he had stopped undressing her.

In the next second, Killian was hit with a sudden remorse, remembering the information he had come back to relay to the half naked woman in front of him. The smell of Emma’s arousal, the sweetness like a refreshing, thirst quenching drink, pulled him in, clouding his mind. He was dizzy, drunk on the temptation between her legs already and with a frustrated growl and a last inhale, he stood and tried to ignore the pounding blood in his engorged member.

“What?” Emma asked quickly, concerned, propping herself up on her elbows. Her hair was a mess, wisps of flyaway blonde sticking out in all directions from static and her blouse hanging open loosely. “Killian, what is it?”

“I can’t,” Killian growled to himself, righting himself to his feet and turning from her with a blush. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, tucking himself back into his jeans and ignoring the way his erection still strained against his fly as he rebuttoned them.

“What happened?” Emma pried, pulling the edges of her blouse together to cover her bra. Her skin still buzzed from his touch, but something was wrong, something had happened and for a second she felt guilty about putting her own urges before anything else.

“I…” Killian began, his face turning into a grimace as he tried to will away Emma’s scent. It was everywhere, invading his nostrils like a temptation he feared he could not resist much longer.

Emma lifted her legs and moved to a sit, scooting to the edge of the couch cushion and reaching to the floor, pulling her leggings back on. They would never get any conversation finished like this, her so tightly wound and him even more so. She stood, raking her fingers through her tousled hair and shaking it over her shoulders, moving to him, feet silently padding across the wooden floor.

“Killian?” Emma whispered gently, her hands smoothing over the material of his shirt that covered his back. He gasped, tensing momentarily before he relaxed into her touch, her talented fingertips kneading the ripple of muscles on his shoulders. Emma pressed her lips to his back, the material of his shirt tickling her lips as she kissed his spine, her hands sliding down his arms and her fingers lacing with his. “It’s okay.”

“I can’t think straight,” he grumbled.

“It’s okay,” Emma repeated, soothing his self-directed anger as she wrapped her arms around his slender waist. “Have I worn you out?” She teased, pushing herself onto her tip toes and tucking her chin into the curve of his shoulder.

Killian’s laugh vibrated through her chest as she embraced him, his hands finding hers and holding her to him lovingly. “Not a chance,” he quipped. “I have something to tell you and I think it would be better received if we were clothed.”

“Oh?” Emma pulled back a little, heels hitting the floor with a thump as she arched her brow. “Will it lead to more enjoyable activities?” Emma teased, her smile lighting up her face only briefly before Killian turned in her arms and she felt the pang of sadness he was emitting.

“Not this time, love,” Killian admitted sadly. He took her hands in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles and watching the motion of his digits intently.

He was nervous, but more than that, he was petrified of the words he was about to say. Emma would want to return home to warn her family, he knew that much was a fact, but he wasn’t sure how she would react to the news that he had already decided to go with her. He knew it was a death sentence, his brother’s warnings had not fallen on deaf ears, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Emma, his half of the moon, and making sure she stayed shining as bright as she could.

Killian knew, with all his heart, Emma’s light would burn out if her father died. It was why he was willing to sacrifice his own life for hers. His life for her happiness. Killian knew he would never forgive himself if he didn’t tell Emma about the plot to attack Misthaven. She had a right to know, to be given the chance to stop it, and he would be there, fighting at her side, regardless of if he were welcome or not.

“What is it?” Emma asked worried, searching his face. “Killian, you can tell me anything,” she assured him softly, her hand reaching up to trace the outline of his brow, easing the tension.

He let out a nervous laugh, avoiding her gaze again. “I’m not sure there is any easy way to say this,” he faltered, swallowing hard.

“Killian, you’re scaring me,” Emma said, her face paling.

“It’s Misthaven,” Killian said, the word on his tongue already like the seal on his fate. “Neverland plans to attack Misthaven. James means to kill your father, Emma.” Killian looked up finally, Emma’s pupils wide and the edges of her eyes watery with tears that threatened to spring from her eyelids.

“How do you know?” She managed weakly.

“My father,” Killian told her with a slight hint of aggression. “He is trying to make amends, prove he loves me,” Killian bit out, the term of endearment striking anger into his heart. Emma gave him a confused look, her head shaking a little as she tried to fathom his words. “It doesn’t matter,” Killian dismissed his rant with a shake of his head. “I came to tell you as soon as I found out.”

“When?” Emma managed, dazed with anxiety.

“We don’t know,” Killian admitted sadly.

“You don’t know?” Emma screeched, stepping from his embrace and running her hands through her hair. She paced away from him, Killian’s heart-shattering.

“My father is trying to find out,” Killian assured her, trying to appease her stress.

“Can we trust him?” Emma spun back to face him and he answered her with silence. He had been asking himself the same question all day. “He is a Neverland wolf, right? Why would he tell us something like this?”

“I can only assume he feels guilty,” Killian shrugged, moving towards her and catching her as she paced past him. He wrapped her up in his arms, holding her to his chest and that was all Emma needed for the dam of sorrow to burst, hot, fat tears spilling down her cheeks. She buried her face against Killian’s chest, clutching the material of his shirt, her hands shaking as sobs wracked her body.

“This is my fault,” she cried.

“What? Absolutely not!” Killian told her firmly. “This isn’t and will never be your fault, Emma, you hear me?” He pulled her from his chest, clutching her face in his hands and dipping his head until he caught her gaze. Emma clutched his hands to her face, suddenly child-like and weak, and Killian titled his head sideways sympathetically. “You hear me?” He repeated softly, offering her a twitch of a smile when she finally met his gaze.

Emma nodded. Killian had the ability to calm her instantly, smoothing out the tension in her bones with a single action. It could be his touch, or his smile but it was always him. Part of Emma’s sadness was the realisation that their romance was now no longer fun, the true nature of their dangerous liaison hitting her like a truck. If she wanted to stay with Killian, she could, but they would forever be looking over their shoulders for Walsh or the Neverland pack. If she returned to Misthaven she would have to do so alone and she wasn’t sure which option scared her the most.

“I can’t lose you,” Emma sniffed, her hand sliding from his and flattening over his chest. Killian’s heart was racing in his chest, she could feel it thundering against her palm, because he was thinking exactly the same thing.

“You won’t,” he said softly, his voice cracking.

“I have to go home,” Emma whimpered.

“I know,” Killian barely whispered back, his forehead resting against hers. She let out another heart wrenching cry and his closed his eyes, fighting back his own tears that would stain his face at any second. He took a breath, the air between their faces minimal and with shaky lips, tilted his head and planted a soft kiss to Emma’s lips. “I’m coming with you.”

“What? No!” Emma cried. Killian nodded, holding her forearms as she tried to step back away from him once more.

“I’m coming with you to help your father,” he told her, affirming the fear on her face.

“Killian…” Emma began, shocked.

“I know,” he said softly, licking his lips. “But I can’t let you go alone. When the time comes, I have to come with you.”

“But, my father.” Emma didn’t have to say anything else because they both knew what it meant for him to even set foot on Misthaven land, let alone show up with the heir on his arm.

“It will be okay,” Killian lied, forcing a weak smile. “Family is important. I can’t in good conscience risk yours knowing I could have done something.”

“So is love,” Emma said on a breathy sigh. “Our love is important.” Her lower lip trembled as she looked up to him with wide eyes, blurry and filled with tears that never seemed to end. Dark lines stained her face and Killian cupped her cheeks in his hands, brushing away the fallen droplets with his thumbs.

“Our love is the most important thing in my life,” Killian told her tenderly, fingers tucking some stray hairs behind her ear.

“So stay here,” Emma pleaded. “Please. I’ll come for you when I’ve warned my father.”

Killian appreciated her attempts at trying to find a solution, but he had already been over the scenarios a thousand times in his head, and there was no situation he could think of where David Nolan accepted him. Not a single one.

“We both know your father will never let you return to me,” Killian sighed sadly.

Emma’s sobs began again and she threw herself into his arms, hand finding the back of his head and pulling his face to hers. She crushed her lips to his fiercely, kissing him desperately as even more tears fell down her face. He kissed her back, his despair etched into his cheeks by his own tears, lips quivering against hers. There was so much emotion in their kiss but they moved slowly, lips sliding gently with passion, breaths hitching from their sobbing like they might never get another chance.

“He’ll kill you,” Emma whimpered, her voiced lace with the most sadness Killian had ever heard.

“He can try,” Killian teased lightly, his lips curving into a small smile. Emma pressed her mouth to his again, tongue tasting the seam of his lips, memorising the texture and feel of them against her own.

“Is this what the dream means?” Emma cried, breaking the kiss but pressing her face to his. “The names on the tombstones? Are they ours?” Killian brushed his knuckles down the side of her cheek, shaking his head.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Killian promised faithfully. “And I’ll be with you. Forever.”

“I love you,” Emma whispered on a sigh.

“And I you.” Killian kissed her again, long and slow, but he hated the fact that whilst he had promised he would always be with her, he didn’t know if he would be alive or just a memory in her heart.

#cssns #cs fic #cs au #cs werewolf au #cssns fanfic #Alii dimidium Lunam #the other half of the moon #killian jones #emma swan #wolves of misthaven #artistic-writer #temporary dog au #ch 19

55 notes · View notes

xocriminal-minds-imaginesxo · 6 years

Text

What’s in a Name?

A/N: To those of you who told me to post this story, thank you. There will be another part to this. I didn’t want to put it in the queue, I just wanted to post it before I chickened out.

TRIGGER WARNING!

Agent Jaelyn Renasci took off after the UnSub at a sprint. Her boots were grinding against the gravel, closing in on him at a quick rate. When she was only a few steps behind she launched herself forward, tackling him to the ground. After taking an elbow to the face and instantly she felt the blood falling from her nose. She grabbed his ankle when he tried to run away. Quickly scrambling forward, she put all her weight into her movements, punching him in the nose, a sickening crack resounding. Sitting on his chest, she pulled out her gun and pressed it to his forehead, finally getting a look at his face.

“Hello, Agent Renasci.” He smiled at her and it made her stomach turn.

“Renasci!” Morgan’s voice resounded through the alley.

“Where’s the girl?” Jaelyn growled. When he didn’t say anything, Jaelyn whipped her gun across his face. “Where is she?” She screamed.

“Renasci!” Morgan pulled her back and she struggled against him.

“No! Morgan! He needs to tell us where the girl is!” Jaelyn kept pulling, but Morgan just held on to her all the more tightly.

“And he will! In the interrogation room at the precinct, not here!” He had wrapped both arms all the way around her, pinning her arms at her side. When the cop had cuffed the UnSub and led him away, Derek finally let her go.

“What happened?” Hotch asked when they got back to the house.

“Is she here?” Was Jaelyn’s response.

“Renasci, you’re bleeding, you need to see a medic.”

“Aaron is she here?” Her eyes met his, with a pleading look. Sadly, he shook his head. She rest her hands on top of her head and sucked in a breath. She lifted her arm, but Aaron caught her arm before her fist connected with the wall.

“Your hand is already bruised, possibly broken, you don’t need to add to that.” His voice was low, and he tossed Morgan the keys. “get back to the precinct and see what you can get I’m going to accompany Renasci to the hospital.”

“I’m fine.” Jaelyn spoke through clenched teeth.

“Like hell you are, let’s go.” Aaron couldn’t help using the boyfriend voice in place of boss voice, but in this situation, it seemed appropriate.

With his arm firmly gripped around her bicep Aaron guided her to the ambulance. Knowing it was useless to argue she gave in to his guidance and trudged into the ambulance. The medic took some sterile gauze and began wiping the blood from her face and she hissed in pain.

“This hand is going to need to be casted.” The other paramedic said, and she shook her head.

“No, we don’t have time for that. Wrap it up and I’ll cast it after we interrogate this son mother f-“

“Jaelyn!” Aaron’s voice was harsh.

“He knew my name, Aaron.” Jaelyn spoke after a moment. “I don’t know how, but I know him. We need to get back to the precinct so you can figure it out.” Aaron knit his brows together and nodded his head.

“Fine, bandage it up. I’ll make sure she comes back.”

When they got back to the precinct the team was sitting in the conference room, Garcia on the speaker.

“What’s this son of a bitch’s name?” Jaelyn growled tossing her go bag in the chair having changed her bloody shirt.

“Oh my god wh-“ Emily reached out to Jaelyn, gesturing to the bruise that was now forming on her cheek, but she pushed Emily’s hand away.

“I’m fine. Garcia?”

“Dave Mitchell.” Garcia’s voice was timid, unsure why Jaelyn was so upset. Grabbing a case file Jaelyn stormed out of the room and into the viewing room. She pulled open the file and looked at the picture of the dead little girl, praying to whoever would listen that they could find the one he had taken last night.

“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” She didn’t even hear Aaron come into the room. “You’ve been on edge this whole case.”

“It’s the victim.” Her voice was a whisper. “She just… she reminds me of somebody I know.”

“The only thing we’ve gotten out of him is his name.” Morgan had entered the room.

Hotch, Morgan, and Jaelyn stood behind the two-way mirror, arms folded across their chest they waiting to see if he would get restless, but he just sat, as cool as ever.

“Renasci, I want you to go in. I think it’ll make him more willing to speak.” Hotch finally spoke. Jaelyn stared at him in disbelief.

“Is that really wise considering what just happened in the field?” Morgan was confused.

“Aaron, is that really a good idea? I agree with Morgan, I don’t think I can stop myself from pistol whipping this guy.” She didn’t want to tell him that she was nervous, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

“Yes, I’m sure. You’re going to walk in very calm and collected. You’re going to sit, and you are going to place two false photos along with the real photo on the table and ask him to confirm the victims. If he admits to each of them, we know he’s not the UnSub.” Hotch’s voice was firm. Jaelyn nodded her head and swallowed hard, taking the file from Morgan.

Hesitating, Jaelyn took a calming breath, and glanced at the boys who gave her a nod. Opening the door, she calmly turned and clicked it shut. Pretending she couldn’t hear her own heartbeat in her ears as she walked over to the table.

“Agent Renasci.” His voice caused her stomach to turn. Not speaking a word, she sat down and placed out all the pictures. Little girls, curled up in the fetal position, bruises around their necks.

“Can you please confirm that these are your victims?” Her voice was surprisingly calm, considering she wanted to do to him what he did to the poor little girl. His eyes flickered down to the pictures for a moment before meeting her eyes again.

“I can confirm that. Do you want me to tell them what I did to them? How I took them into the bathroom? Started by running a bath before I raped them?” Jaelyn couldn’t hide the disgust that had written all over her face. The blood drained from her face and there was a ringing in her ears so loud she could barely hear her own voice when she spoke.

“Where is he?” Her voice was wicked.

“Jaelyn, what are you doing?” Hotch voice sounded through her ear piece. She was so focused on the UnSub she didn’t hear Morgan walk into the room.

“Renasci?” Morgan placed a hand on her shoulder she shrugged him away, slamming her fists on the table, so loud it even caused Morgan to flinch at the sound.

“Where is he?” She asked again, her voice a thunderous boom, echoing around the room. There was a deafening silence following her outburst in which he smiled a sinister smile. Her chest was heaving, and her jaw was clenched tight.

“What do I get if I tell you?” He spoke coolly, she clenched her hands into fists.

“Renasci…” Morgan tried again to get her attention.

“Morgan, I’ve got this.” Jaelyn’s voice was dark.

“Leave the room Morgan.” Hotch’s voice sounded in their ear piece. Morgan furrowed his brow, concern written across his face, but he followed the order, slowly walking out of the room.

“We’ll tell the DA you cooperated, and you’ll get maximum security. If you don’t tell me or if you lie to me you will be put in a state prison for life and trust me when I say, guys like you don’t do well in prison.” Her voice tapered off to a menacing whisper. Eyes murderous from across the table, she stared him down until he finally answered.

“He’s where it all began.”

Jaelyn pushed away from the table and walked out of the interrogation room, out of the viewing room and out of the precinct. Barely making it to the edge of the sidewalk before emptying the contents of her stomach into the grass. A pair of familiar black shoes walked up beside her, his hands pulling her hair back.

“Thanks.” She mumbled, standing up and wiping the corner of her mouth.

“Do you mind telling me what just happened in there?” Aaron’s voice was soft.

“He’s not the UnSub.” Her voice cracked, and he stepped closer, holding himself back from reaching out to her.

“I gathered that. I’ve also gathered that you know who the UnSub is.”

“Yeah I do…” Aaron could sense she didn’t want to go into more detail.

“He gave up his name after you left, Garcia is looking up him up now.” JJ said when they stepped back into the conference room.

“Joseph Whiting was with him in prison.” Jaelyn heard Garcia’s voice over the speaker. “He has a rap sheet a mile long, filled with domestic violence and assault charges. 30 years ago, he was sent to prison after pleading guilty as an accomplice to murder.”

“When was he released?” JJ asked, all eyes pretending not to glance worryingly at Jaelyn and Hotch.

“Three weeks ago… oh god.” Garcia gasped.

“What is it Garcia?” Spencer questioned.

“While he was in prison he would brag about raping and molesting his partners granddaughter, Shauna, he was shanked and put in solitary confinement for his security.”

“How much do you want to bet she had blonde hair and blue eyes?” Emily asked. Jaelyn’s jaw was clenched, her hands were balled into fists so tight her nails were breaking the skin.

“Garcia, we need to find her she’s probably his end game. He blames her for getting hurt in prison. She’s probably where it all began.” JJ said.

“It says they tried to find her after he was released to offer her protective custody, but she went off the grid…” Garcia trailed off, fingers still clicking at the keyboard. Hotch looked down at Jaelyn, giving her a knowing glance, starting to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“They’re not you baby girl.” Morgan spoke up, glancing over to Jaelyn as well, an inquisitive look on his face.

“No, they are not and… oh, oh...” Garcia trailed off.

“Garcia?” Prentiss tried coaxing her. They heard a choked sob come from the other end of the line.

“Baby Girl?” Morgan sounded worry.

“I… Um… I’m no…” She couldn’t form a sentence.

“She’s trying to tell you that her name isn’t Shauna anymore.” Jaelyn finally spoke up, her voice monotonous.

“What? How do you know that?” JJ asked. After a moment Jaelyn finally lifted her eyes and met the curious gazes of her colleagues.

“Because my mom let me change it when I turned 16.”

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x oc #spencer reid #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jj jareau #imagine #criminal minds imagine

141 notes · View notes

orangesnail · 6 years

Text

Touch was something Lee never realised was so important.

He was always an overwhelmingly affectionate person, giving out hugs and pats at an alarming rate.

Gaara, on the other hand, prefered not to touch or be touched. He had shook Lees hand on their first meeting and allowed for touch to happen when it came to dancing but nothing more. Which was fine by Lee, he never touched someone without permission, but unknowingly to him, it made him hypeaware of touch.

The first touch from Gaara was a nudge of his shoulder. Lee had decided to attend a meeting alongside Gaara, eager to see the inner political workings of royal life. Gaara has gave him a raised eyebrow and stated ‘it would not be exciting’ but Lee insisted.

He should of listened.

It had dragged on and on, and Lee wondered how Gaara always dealt with all these responsibilities daily without falling asleep. Which, incidentally, Lee had almost done until Gaara nudged him awake. By the time he was fully alert and aware of what had happened, Gaara was continuing on with his discussions as if he himself was not fully aware of what he had done. The touch lingered for the rest of the day.

From then on, nudging became more prominent, Gaara preferring to use it instead of words. Gaara was never big on speaking and now that Lee had become accustomed to it, it was a regular thing.

Next came a prod with his finger. Lee and Gaara has been training all morning in preparation for an upcoming ball. While resting, Lee reminisced about their first lesson and made a joke about Gaaras two left feet. Gaara gave him an annoyed prod, hard, on his upper arm, conveying the message of ‘You aren’t allowed to make jokes about the King.’ Lee had been dumbstruck for a moment but quickly covered it up with his big cheerful laugh.

As it goes, poking and prodding became a regular thing. And during this period, Lee began to realise the crush he had formed on Gaara. His heart practically exploded when he realised that Gaara would only ever touch him, rarely others. Just him. The feeling wouldn’t let him sleep.

It continued from there, Gaara beginning to fully grasp Lee, clasping at his arm, reaching out to grab him. Each touch had become a treasure, contributing to a possibility blooming in Lee’s head.

But alongside the fantasy grew doubt. He had come to know that Gaara and affectionate had not mixed well together in the past, the word ‘love’ alone could sometimes mildly upset him.

The hopeless romantic in him would not be downtrodden so easily, and Lee continued to hope.

And soon enough his hopes had come true.

A late night session, the two unable to sleep. Gaara was an insomniac, so this was nothing to him. But Lee was really suffering as his affection had began overriding his normal dreams. He felt dirty seeking out Gaara so late at night just because he didn’t want to have an embarrassing dream about the man.

The two practiced in the seperate ballroom towards the bottom of the palace grounds as not to disturb the others sleep. Training had been harsh, the two had planned to perform an intense ballroom route at the next celebration of the country to display Gaaras ongoing growth, both skill-wise and “human”-wise.

Lees desire had unfortunately grown selfish after being denied its usual release in the form of a dream. He had become mesmorised by Gaaras moves and uncharacteristically perfect appearance while doing so. Even when breaking a sweat, he looked...like heaven.

When it came to final dip, he didn’t let Gaara stand and go like usual. He just looked down at Gaara, taking in as much as possible. The way his mouth was slightly parted, the soft pants hitting his skin, the drops of sweat forming, those normally soul piercing teal eyes being gentle when they opened. He was lovedrunk.

They were too close for comfort, too close for Lee to back out, too close for Lee to dive in, too close for reasoning.

“Lee.”

“Can I kiss you?”

His throat instantly dried up, regret and fear causing an upset in both his mind and his gut. Risk taking was all he ever did but never had he done something like this. Never so ambitious. So irresponsible.

His fear skyrocketed to new heights when Gaaras eyes when from calm to hard and his forehead crinkled instantly at the word ‘kiss’. Panic set in as soon as Gaara’s hard gaze broke away from his own and moved down Lee’s face to his lips. He instinctively licked them, a mix of anticipation and insecurity.

Gaara slowly closed his mouth, as if cautiously considering the taste of his next words. He forced the two to stand up properly and let go of Lee, putting some distance between eachother in the process and crossed his arms. Lee felt as if someone had successfully snuck up on him and kicked him upside the head.

“I don’t know how to. I’ve watched others do it but I have no experience.”

Maybe he shouldn’t of been so quick to feel.

“O-oh! That’s not a problem, I don’t really know how to myself....but I have an idea!”

“Then why ask?”

“I-uh, well, you know, It wouldn’t be right to surprise you!”

Gaara studied Lees face once more, Lee trying his hardest not to crumpled under his scrutiny. Gaara then carefully nodded, his body slightly relaxing, apparently satisfied with answer.

“We could learn. What did you have in mind?”

Lee was sure his heart skipped a beat, maybe two, maybe ten. Gaara was open to kissing, kissing him. A hot flush crashed into him at this thought, no not a thought, this fact.

“Well...”

The hopeless romantic in him was screaming, an ideal situation had presented itself and he wasn’t going to pass it up.

“How about we practice our dance once more?”

“I thought we were learning to kiss.”

Blunt as usual, but that just made Lee breathless.

“We are! But I just have an idea, can you trust me?”

Gaara slightly raised a non-existent eyebrow but nodded once more. Lee started up the music once more and they began their dance as practiced.

Gaara really has come far, his movements strict and adherent but fluid and full of emotion, passion, devotion. This was opposed to his almost robotic, somewhat clumsy moves when they first began training.

He learned to be free-flowing, had managed to keep up with Lees harsh regime and soaked up all that was taught to him. Lee felt immense pride and affection when dwelling on the thought.

Gaara had managed to be unfazed by the events from earlier, dancing as usual but Lee was so nervous he had to use all control left to make sure he didn’t shake himself apart.

On queue, the final dip came. The two had performed their final steps and Lee swung Gaara down, the music dying alongside the dramatic ending.

Lee let a few moments pass, allowing Gaara to make the connections and come to the conclusion. Gaaras eyes didn’t harden up like before and Lee took this as a sign.

Slowly Lee moved in and pressed his lips against Gaaras. Gaara didn’t respond for period longer than Lee would of liked but soon Gaara pushed back, eager to explore and learn.

Lee didn’t pull apart from Gaara but prompted him to stand up properly, neither of them removing their hands from one another during it. If anything, Gaara wanted Lee closer. Not that Lee would object.

Lee wouldn’t object to anything Gaara wanted from him.

He was just happy he could finally share such a tender meaningful connection with someone so precious.

Lee didn’t realise how important touch was until he could share its sensation with Gaara.

#look im aware of how innacurate some of this is #but i couldnt care #im living the dream babyyyyyyy #also im a hopeless romantic who likes to die on hills of cliches holla #Gaara #Rock Lee #Naruto #gaalee #leegaa #The King and his Dancer #my writing #ALSO SORRY IF THIS DOESNT MATCH UP WITH MY OTHER WRITING IM ALWAYS CHANGING STUFF CAUSE IM ALWAYS FORGETTING RIP

2 notes · View notes

veritabletrash-blog · 7 years

Text

Pulaski at Night | Summer

Setting: Chicago, Future Pairing: Namjoon x Reader Rating: T, references to sex Word Count: 2.7k Description: You’ve lived in Chicago for years. You’re used to the rhythm of the city and find comfort in your neighborhood. You meet him at the first farmer’s market of the season. The harvest is very promising this year.

You met for the first time in May. It was the first farmer’s market of the season, which meant fresh cut flowers and idling on the lawn aside cheesemongers and farmers with friends while eating crepes from the handsome crepe men and sharing LaCroix with your friends. The market’s opening day had been on your calendar for months.

You met your friends on the corner of Kedzie and Milwaukee just south of the El station and walked over together, knowing you were bound to be separated in the throng of strollers and tote bags and frazzled pups on short leashes. You were right to plan ahead, the Logan Square Farmer’s Market was packed.

It was refreshing to see so many of your presumed neighbors gathered in one space. Chicago winters were long and at times it felt more like you were living on the set of a weird apocalyptic film set than a neighborhood full of hipster parents and art students and weirdos and yuppies. You were grateful that the farmer’s market was such a uniting force.

Your friends had set up a blanket on the thoroughfare just away from the crowds and were taking turns going to grab snacks and shop. You'd just returned from the Raddler’s stand, bratwurst and sauerkraut in hand. You were leaning over to grab a pamplemousse LaCroix when you were bum rushed by the small white dog. The dog was planted squarely in your lap and scarfing down your sausage and you sat wide-eyed, straight flabbergasted, until you came to your sense and pulled the cardboard holder out of the pup’s reach. Feet appeared in front of you and then hands scrambling for a lead. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Large tan hands pulled the dog from your lap and your eyes worked their way up the stranger’s arm--elbow, swell of a bicep, broad shoulders--until your eyes met. Sunglasses slipped down his nose and his eyes were a deep brown. His features were soft and sharp at the same time, definitely handsome. “Sorry, he got loose when I was talking to those ethically sourced salmon people.” He gestured back to the market crowds and seemed more flustered than you despite the fact that you were the one that had been ambushed in the first place.

“No worries.” you smiled, which seemed to calm him down. “What's his name?” you asked, stroking the top of the dog’s head. The pup sniffed at your sausage-occupied hand, which you still held high and out of reach.

“Rap Monster,” He answered and crouched down to pat the dog’s side, “but I just call him Moni. He’s kind of a bastard.”

“Rap Monster.” you let the name sit on your tongue as you looked at the dog. “Seriously?” Your eyes flicked back to the main in front of you, “Does he have mad canine rhymes or a SoundCloud or something? I’d love to check out his mixtape.”

The man laughed and it was full bodied and rumbly. You noticed his dimples. Wow, handsome dog man was super handsome.

“The name is a long story. He's an old fella now and not very well behaved. Can I get you a new one of those?” he nodded in the direction of the savaged brat.

“Oh, you don't have to. It was an accident.”

“No, I insist. Really. You were just minding your business when he came running.” he pressed.

You laughed and stood. “Well, sure then. Thanks.” You introduced yourself and offered your hand to shake. “It's nice to meet you, I'm Namjoon.” he replied in turn.

“So you have an interesting name, too.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

He smiled and wound the leash around his hand a few times as you made your way back into the crowds of the market. “I'm Korean. You can call me Joon. Most of my friends here do.”

“Like Korean Korean? From Korea Korean?” you asked and he gave you a puzzled look, “I just don’t want to say something stupid.” God forbid you say something ignorant in front of this guy who was not only ridiculously handsome, but considerate and a good dog parent.

“Yeah, I’m from Korea. Not Korean-American. Just Korean.” he clarified with a grin.

“Sorry to ask. You speak English like it’s your first language. Did you grow up in the states?”

He shook his head, “No, I was just blessed as a kid with a very insistent and wise mother who bombarded me with American TV.” You dodged a stroller and fell in step behind him and he turned to look at you, “So do you live in Logan?”

You nodded, “I'm a few blocks east and north of here. Kinda near Sacramento and Diversey.”

“Oh around Fat Rice then?”

“Mmhm. Almost too close. Have you been there? Their egg tarts are the best thing I’ve put in my body in the last two years.”

He laughed at that and tried to steer Rap Monster away from a gaggle of children with sticky fingers listening to folk music. “I forgot how crowded it gets here.”

“Probably extra busy since it's the first day back.” you added. You snaked your way through the crowd before ending up back in the Raddler’s queue. A few women stopped you to pet Rap Monster. “Quite a chick magnet you have there.” You teased.

He laughed at this, “My friend Jackson said the same thing right before he adopted this poodle mix from the shelter.” He shook his head, “I mean, Rap Monster just likes food. I don’t even think he likes me that much.”

“Nah, I’m sure he’s got loads of love for you.” you smiled at the squirming ball of fur at your feet.

“Trust me, he’s all looks no love. I’m the total opposite.” He wasn’t sure why he felt so comfortable around you. Maybe it was the way you maneuvered easily through the crowds or the line of your shoulders or the fondness you had for his dumb, seriously dumb, dog.

Your attention had been pulled by the man working behind the register and you missed his response. “Sorry what was that?” you turned to ask.

“Oh, nothing important.”

You ordered and he pulled a “I’ll have the same.” which inexplicably made your stomach flip. Before you could process your feelings, he finished paying and handed you your food.

“Thanks for this.” you gestured with your sausage hand and now that the obligated transaction was complete you found yourself scrambling for an excuse to spend just a bit more time with him. It seemed like he hadn’t noticed the lull in conversation as he looked down at Moni and his legs tangled in the dog’s lead. “Hey, do you want to sit and eat with me and my friends? It might be easier than trying to get around with the little dude.”

“Uh, yeah, that would be great.” He hadn’t planned on eating at the market. It was more of a curious look around than a shopping trip, but what could it hurt to sit and eat with a cute girl. Plus, Rap Monster was probably going to take out his ankles if he lingered in the market crowds much longer. “I mean if you don’t mind, of course.”

“Not at all.” There was something musical about your voice. Not quite sing song, just something gently lilting and comforting.

You navigated out to the street where it was easier to walk and made your way back to the blankets. You introduced Namjoon to Meghan and Emily and Emily’s boyfriend, Andrew. They'd found tacos and plants and iced coffee. You cracked open a La Croix and offered one to Namjoon as well.

Andrew was completely smitten with Rap Monster. “I have a dog named Hey Man. He's a complete terror. I think they’d be friends.”

Namjoon grinned, “We should set up a dog date. It’ll either be adorable or completely terrifying.”

“Yeah, dude.” Andrew agreed and they swapped numbers as Emily tried to take selfies with Rap Monster. It was that easy. Namjoon was seemed relaxed among your friends, much calmer than the frazzled man who had stood before you forty-five minutes ago. You stretched your arms and felt the sun in your hair as you watched Rap Monster wandered your picnic blanket in search of crumbs. When he found nothing, the dog settled back in your lap.

“I have never seen him warm up to someone so quickly.” Namjoon observed.

“We’re brothers in cased meats.” you joked and stroked the dog’s ears.

Soon the food was gone. Meghan and Emily were talking about going up to Oak Street Beach to look at the water, which Namjoon took this as a cue to leave, “I should probably get going. It was really nice to meet you and I’m still super sorry Rap Monster was so bad earlier.”

You stood and walked with him for a few feet. “It’s no problem. He’s too cute not to forgive.” You bit your lip and looked at him, “It was super good meeting you, too. Will I see you here next week?”

“I’m out of town for work, but we should definitely hang out when I'm back.” He said it so casually but your stomach somersaulted. He handed his phone to you. “I'll call you when I'm in town and we'll do something, yeah? Preferably not with this little demon.”

You laughed, “Ah, no! He can totally come. I’d hate for him to be left out.” You typed in your number and returned his phone. “But in all seriousness, that sounds really nice.”

He waves goodbye to your friends and gave you a smile as he faded into the crowd. You returned to the blanket. “He’s cute.” Meghan proclaimed and pounced on your shoulders. “Who knew your dumb love of sausage would actually pay off one day. Wow.”

“Lay off, dude. There was like no flirting anyway.” You insisted.

“Bullshit, I can confirm flirting.” Andrew argued from across the blanket. “Eyes only on you. Definitely interested.”

You rolled your eyes. “So you're gonna hang out?” Meghan persisted.

“Yeah, we're gonna hang out.”

“That's promising.” she smiled suggestively as she elbowed you in the ribs. “It would be good for you to see someone. It’s been a minute.”

You covered your face in your hands, “It’s been many minutes.” You lingered on the blanket in the sun. Your friends chatted about work, about someone’s new baby, about that new show on Netflix...and eventually they packed up to head to the beach and you said your goodbyes and pushed your way back into the market to snag some fresh greens.

Namjoon texted you that night.

[9:56 pm] Hi. It's the Korean Korean Namjoon/Joon from the market earlier [9:59 pm] Hi! [9:59 pm] How was the beach? [10:00] Didn’t end up going. Had some work I had to catch up on. 🙃 [10:01] Bummer [10:04] Did Rap Monster plunder any more human food? [10:06] Haha no [10:06] He must just really like me [10:07] Yeah he told me so when we got home

You texted him on and off for the next week. He sent you a picture of the ocean, recommended an album, asked what you were up to... It was nice to have someone checking up on you. After a week away he was finally headed back to the Chicago and you made plans to go for drinks. You were nervous and berated yourself for it. He was just a dude that you met at the farmer’s market. He was just a really handsome, nice, dude with a really cute dog who seemed to be into you. The thought of it made your palms sweat. You suggested Lost Lake and he agreed.

It was one of the best first dates you ever had. When his drink arrived in a brightly colored ceramic bird dressed with fresh flowers and umbrellas, his eyes went wide and he mumbled something to himself in Korean. When he caught your bemused smile he gave you a bashful shrug, “Sorry, it’s just really, really cute.” He was wholeheartedly endearing.

You learned that he worked in the music industry and that he was trying to open a studio, or something like that, in Chicago. You asked about his favorite musicians. He asked what styles of music you liked and, when it was clear that you had genres in common, he visibly relaxed. You found out you both like Murakami novels and noodles and the aesthetic of Wes Anderson films. You asked about his family and he asked about yours. You promised to take him to Joong-Boo Market because he hadn’t been. You felt silly for wanting to take a Korean person to a Korean-American market, but he sounded homesick when he talked about his parents and you thought it may be of a comfort to at least be around other people speaking your first language.

A couple hours and a few drinks later, you were sure you liked him. He was clever and interesting and made weird jokes. His smiles were easy to win and his eyes were curious and kind. You couldn’t put your finger on it exactly, but you were sure you wanted to see him again.

He insisted on walking you home. The air was warm and humid and the skirt of your dress fluttered around your legs in the breeze. You didn’t think twice about leaning up to give him a chaste kiss on the cheeks when it was time to say good night. He bit his bottom lip and could swear he was blushing as you made plans to see each other again.

His schedule was all over the place and he was out of town a lot, but it didn’t really matter. Your life was full. You had your volunteering and your friends and your work. Joon was the cherry on top of a life you’d worked hard to build. Even when he was away he was quick to respond to texts and he sent you pictures of little things he noticed. Despite the distance, you never truly felt disconnected from him. Plus the time that you did spend together more than made up for any inconvenience of his frequent flights to L.A. and New York.

When you were together he was easy smiles and over excited outbursts and cuddles on the couch. You spent the bulk of your days together lounging around his apartment half undressed watching Chef’s Table and playing with each other’s fingers and ordering take out. Some nights you cooked dinner in his kitchen, which was way nicer than it should have been given how poor a cook he was, and others he took you along to the small performances he said he had to go to for work. Sometimes he seemed annoyed to be pulled into work in the evenings and weekends and on days when he hadn’t seen you in what felt like months, but you didn’t mind. You were happy to spend time with him and you liked to see him bop around the room talking to the performers and sound engineers. When he caught your eyes following him one night, he shot you a wink and you were pretty sure your heart stopped. You were deep in your feelings to begin with and his competence and confidence near a stage was undeniably sexy.

On those concert nights, you’d come home with him more often than not. His kisses were sweet until they weren’t. The sex varied, which you liked, and he communicated well about what worked and what didn’t. You swung between sweet nose kisses and giggles and rosy lightness and something more base and desperate.

Some of your favorite moments with him were the times you basked in the afterglow, limbs intertwined, talking about nothing and everything until you literally could not keep your eyes open. Of course there were nights when he came fast and hard and passed out next to you, but the way he made you come and stroked your hair and looked at you like you were the most vast and beautiful thing he’d ever seen easily made up for the occasional selfish transgression.

The heat of the summer suited your relationship. You simmered away quietly in your own bubble. A chance meeting had turned into something more serious. You couldn’t admit to him that you loved him yet. It felt too soon although you were pretty sure he felt the same way.

#bts scenarios #kim namjoon #rap monster #bts fluff #bts smut #namjoon fluff #rap monster fluff #rapmon #namjoon #namjoon x reader

5 notes · View notes