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faeriekit · 10 months

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Health and Hybrids (IV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here and this is part four 💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Our boy is recovering from Bad Stuff in the Watchtower (involuntarily). Danny gets a bandaid for a variety of wounds that definitely are not covered by a little adhesive bandaid, but hey! Bart’s trying.

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Batman clicks on the projector screen. Everyone in the room has access to the slides and note-taking abilities on their tablets. The assembled heroes quietly select their app of choice, sit back in their chairs, and ready themselves for the meeting.

“Good afternoon. For everyone in alternate time zones, good morning or good evening as they apply. Before I begin the approved agenda for this meeting, there are developments on the base that everyone ought to be aware of.”

Click. The slide changes to a fuzzy image of an unusually dense collection of shadows in a typical medical-wing setup. The specific location isn’t clear, but the phenomenon itself is stark against the white walls and flooring. The static on the cameras is atypical for the quality of equipment used on the base.

“There is an extraterrestrial lifeform that has made Medical Wing C their territory. Yes, we know they are there. No, they cannot be moved at this time. Please do not try to take initiative in doing so. Please do not enter the aforementioned medical wing. If you see this entity outside of the medical wing, please leave, ignore them, or otherwise make your presence known. They are generally in search of isolation and seek to remain unseen. All known attempts at self-defense by this entity have been largely non-hostile so far, but we do not know how or if that behavior will change as they heal.”

Batman…takes a breath. Not sighs. The vigilante has more control than that.

“They are severely injured. The exact nature of their injuries are still unknown, based on their—unique physiology—“

Barry squints at the screen. Nope. The cloud still looks like a cloud.

“—But the identified fluids they secrete have been recognized as at least partially composed of red blood platelets and a modified plasma. Based on their aggressive self-defense, the persistent seclusion behavior, and their general lack of responsiveness, the injuries are considered deeply severe and require rest to treat. It is imperative that non-medical staff and on-base heroes maintain as little contact with the entity as possible. We are attempting both delicate medical treatment and non-verbal communication, which have both failed thus far. We have reason to believe that the extraterrestrial is sentient and capable of communication based on—“

Click. The next slide is an image of a nearly-obliterated craft of some kind—tinted glass, wings, debris everywhere, twisted shards of metal that look like they scrape like teeth. Charred black everywhere. Barely visible is a torn–through upholstered seat ten yards away.

A hiss breaks the silence in the back of the room. That’s nasty-looking wreck.

“—This craft. It is relatively rudimentary in its design, and would not have held up to prolonged space travel, but would have required complex intelligence to start and maintain transport. Basic testing has proven that its energy readings, while not precisely contiguous with the Speed Force, show that it has been in contact with extradimensional phenomena. A non-sentient life would not have been able to pilot it successfully enough to crash it—much less to avoid the farmhouse in its path. The result is that we have an extremely wounded entity with no shared form of communication. There have been worrying observations by their medical team, however.”

Click.

This slide is blank.

“We are now pursuing the possibility that the entity has been attacked or otherwise held captive by human organizations here on Earth. There are persistent triggers of aggression brought on by medical settings, adults, and more specifically, any present medical personnel and equipment.”

Batman pauses.

“Their medical team has informed me that their persistent fear has made treatment…difficult.”

There’s a snort from somewhere in the room.

“If you discover any evidence of possible extraterrestrial captivity or torture or experimentation among your usual cast of rogues, please forward everything you are able to base for further investigation. In this time period where the Lanterns are unavailable to return to Earth, Martian Manhunter has been notified of the need of his presence on the base, and will hopefully help settle this matter. In the meantime, as a reminder: do not enter Medical Wing C, do not engage with the entity in any way. Simply make your presence known, and they will flee.

“Now. Onto our agenda. First article: whoever has been taking the toilet paper from the supply closet, stop it. The league is not here to fund your lifestyle habit of two-ply toilet paper.”

There’s more food available more often.

It just appears at the foot of his bed. Like magic. Or, like…like a really, really fast human child.

Some of the packaged foods Danny can’t eat without swallowing them whole, wrapper and all. They’re just too fiddly to get with his claws—the solution is to just swallow it and let the whole thing dissolve in whatever weird ecto-acid is churning in his stomach at the moment.

The rest is fresh from the bakery—or, well the base, anyway, however this moon base gets their fresh foods. Muffins and croissants and sausage rolls and other things he would expect to see on a coffee tray or something.

…Danny prods his stomach.

He’s been too sore to notice, but this half-state of being a somewhat-physical half-ghost is super, super weird. He can eat, but it’s not processed like food is in his living body. Everything he can digest just gets incorporated. Everything he can’t just gets…

He looks down at the slowly growing puddle in his bed.

…Maybe ‘spit out’ is too generous a phrase. Expelled? Excreted?

Ew. Okay that thought is kind of gross and he doesn’t want to think about that while he can’t move away maybe.

He knows, instinctually, that he’s wounded, but this half-and-half state stops him from feeling the specifics. Knowing how, exactly, he’s hurt. Experiencing the majority of the pain and distress.

He curls up on his bed.

Danny hates it here. Not because it’s bad (it is) but because he wants to be home. He selfishly, desperately wants to be home. He wants his rocket sheets. He wants his room with its glow in the dark stars.

…He wants his dad to heat up soup and sit with him, like when he was little and had nightmares. He wants Jazz to sit on the edge of his bed and read to him.

Danny wants Mom.

…There is some other company here, though.

Sometimes, if Danny is mostly sated and kind of sleepy, the quick human buzzes in with a few of its age-mates. The two don’t get as close as the buzzing human can, because Danny can at least read the Excited!! or Nervous!! or Booored! energy on the human, which makes him more comfortable with letting it in close. Its friends seem to respect his space, though. They don’t go past his curtain, even if it’s open. They talk, but they don’t yell.

Danny thinks he’s getting the soft little bones back in one of his ears, but he can’t fully tell. He can hear that they’re chattering and he can hear which sounds they’re making, but he can’t understand any of them.

Auuuuughhhhh. He pushes the pillow more underneath himself. Does he have brain damage?? Is he…is he missing pieces of his brain??

There won’t be a concrete way to tell until he solidifies again. Gross. He doesn’t want to do that yet.

Or soon.

…Or at all, maybe.

Mom was so mad at him. Maybe he’ll be safe and he can come home if she…if he can’t be touched…?

…No. He remembers. Mom makes things for ghosts.

??Concern?Con??cern?

Danny looks up. Oh. He made the human vibrate all nervously. Danny’s fine. Well—he’s not fine but he’s not hurting more than usual or hungry.

The human is careful not to touch him when he doesn’t want to be touched, but Danny’s feeling generous. When the human puts its hands on the bed, Danny willingly brushes his knuckles up against it.

No claws. A peace offering.

The human goes suuuuper still.

…Uh. Did he break it?

And then it zoooooooms away faster than Danny can comprehend (he jolts) and sprints back with a whole lot of stuff in its hands, and a few things thumpthumpthump ono his bed. And.

Well. None of it smells like food? When he bites it, it doesn’t taste like food either. In fact the texture is…

Danny frowns. Turns over the object so he can see it better. (It doesn’t help.) Is that plastic?

Wait. Danny twists it in half. His wrists ache but the pieces rotate.

…It’s a rubric’s cube.

…Huh.

There are other puzzles too—things that taste like plastic and one that tastes like wood, which he might have dented with his teeth by accident. Whoops. Danny puts that one farthest away, in the hopes that he doesn’t accidentally damage it a second time.

…Huh. That’s. That’s nice.

Danny surprises himself and the surprised!surprised! human with a purr.

It’s not a lot. Not even monetarily is this little offering a lot.

But it’s more than Danny’s had in a long time.

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qqueenofhades · 2 years

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One of my favourite Sandman lore pieces I absorbed via tumblr is how, when Dream is having great sex, all the dreamers get to have glorious lustful dreams. Dream really is getting laid and making it everybody else's problem. Magnificent.

Dr. Robert Gadling is whistling an extremely cheery tune as he unlocks his office door -- which, if you had had the night he did, you would be whistling too, or possibly even clicking your heels like a demented leprechaun and wishing top o' the morning to everyone who passed. He's not doing that, but he's definitely feeling extremely good, and he sails inside, pulls up the blinds, boots up his computer, and prepares to answer some emails while he waits to see if anyone's actually going to come to office hours. It's always hit or miss, and then four days later they send a panicked question at midnight that they could have just, you know, asked. In person, in a timely fashion, when he definitely will not bite. He will never understand undergraduates.

Hob keeps the door propped open as usual, thus to project a warm and welcoming attitude, and after he's trudged through the first tranche of emails, he glances up to see one of his students loitering in the hall as if she's about to come in -- then, catching sight of him, turning scarlet and racing off at top speed. This is bewildering, since she's usually among the more talkative of the bunch, but Hob writes it off. At least until he sees several more students hovering in the hallway, who all vamoose the instant he sticks his head out to see if they need anything. This is decidedly peculiar, and he sighs deeply, grabs his mug, and heads down the hall to the faculty lounge, thus to raid it for a cup of coffee. Even more emails (and oh joy, expense reports) await, and he could use the fortification.

When he steps inside, his colleagues Bryan (Economics and Politics in Modern Germany) and Amita (Women, Caste, and Religious Practice in Precolonial India) both immediately turn bright red, clear their throats, and engage in a slightly too-loud conversation about the weather (which, given as this is London, is exactly what you think it is). Hob eyes them curiously, since while bizarre behavior is understandable from students, it is somewhat less so from lecturers. "Hey, guys," he says. "Anything up?"

"Er." Bryan is staring fixedly at the floor, while Amita has become unaccountably fascinated by the raindrops rolling down the window. "Nope. No. Everything normal, Rob. Entirely usual."

"Right," Hob says slowly, having the feeling of a man who has walked into a cave and found something large and furry that he should try not to disturb. "That's just me going, then. If I could sneak past you for the coffee pot, that'd be great -- "

He pours himself some coffee, departs in haste, and almost bowls over Philippa, Head of Department, in the hallway outside. They spring backward like a pair of opposing magnets, he manages to avoid dousing her in boiling hot coffee, and as he apologizes, notices that she is likewise determinedly not looking him in the eye and addressing a spot in midair over his head as she insists that it's fine. What the actual hell. Has everyone in Goldsmiths lost their bloody minds?

The insanely weird character of Hob's day, and the fact that even the clerk at Superdrug seems to cough unaccountably while ringing him up, remains a mystery until he gets home, finds an eager Dream Lord waiting for him already, and they get extremely distracted even before Hob can make dinner. Afterward, as they're lying half-clothed and decadent on the bed, Hob murmurs, "Well, glad you at least can stand to look at me, love. Had a very odd time of it today."

Dream's expression assumes a furtive, guilty quality. He rolls onto his back, head still pillowed luxuriantly on Hob's stomach, and stares up at the ceiling. "Ah," he says, after a very long pause. "About that."

(Two minutes of a deeply humiliating explanation later, Hob screeches, "YOU BLOODY DID WHAT?" Dream apologizes profusely and promises not to do it again. Hob does, of course, have classes and commitments for the rest of the semester, but hopefully it's not too late to change his name, once more fake his death, and move to Australia. Except, of course, they dreamed of him there too. Horrible.)

#anonymous #ask #dreamling #dreamling ff #i absolutely did see that post like 'nobody can look hob in the eye after he and dream first get it on'#so yes a+ bless

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misstheraege · 2 years

Text

Feeling Tipsy, Darling?

✾ pairing: kazuha x gn!reader

✾ synopsis: kaedahara kazuha was many things to you: poetic, compassionate, soft-spoken. the list of your lover’s qualities was endless in your eyes. though one quality of his that you didn’t expect to find so endearing...was drunk.

✾ warnings: intoxication/implied alcohol consumption. spoilers for the new summertime odyssey event.

"In that case, I’ll have a glass of juice. Hm...this one. I like the color.”

You should have known better than to trust the bard with the drink choices.

You feel Kazuha’s lips tickling the crook of your neck as he breathes out another giggle, the sound resembling that of a playful summer breeze. His arms tighten where they rest around your waist.

Just how strong were these fruit cocktails?!

“Kazuha, love, we’re in public!” you whisper exasperatedly to him, cheeks flushing at his uncharacteristically open affections. The traveler has the audacity to mimic a scandalized expression, bringing a hand to their mouth as if appalled. You shoot them a glare from across the table.

“Don’t give me that look!” you seethe as Kazuha snuggles deeper into you. “I know your enjoying yourself from over there. The lot of you!”

Both Venti and Paimon wear similar smug expressions. “We don’t know what you’re talking about!” Paimon practically sings.

Venti places a hand over his heart, sighing dreamily. “Ah~ young love! It’s always such a refreshing sight!”

Before you can make another complaint, Kazuha somehow slots himself even closer to you, the sides of your hips clicking as he hums contentedly at the warmth radiating from you. He is, of course, oblivious to the fact that he is the cause of your sudden rise in temperature, but in his state, you doubt he would have felt ashamed. The nerve. Removing an arm from your waist, he goes to cup the back of your head as he brings his nose to your hair.

Your feel your heart rate spike as he inhales almost dreamily.

“Your scent is intoxicating, my love,” he all but whispers into your ear. Though there are no ulterior motives to his actions, your body can’t help but flush at his blatant declaration. “My head is going light with the smell alone.”

You bring a hand to you face, the other grasping behind your head as you gently remove his fingers from your hair. “That’s the alcohol, love,” you mutter in response. He merely intertwines his now freed hand with your own. You struggle to hold back a groan. This man was going to be the death of you.

It’s not as though you were opposed to public displays of affection. The two of you were no strangers to hand holding and fleeting kisses when away from prying eyes. Nor does Kazuha find the need to restrain his voice when singing your praises in the form of poetry. He was a deeply passionate lover and a strong romantic, but still a quiet one by heart. Were this in the private of each other’s company, his affections would gladly be reciprocated.

But, with a tipsy bard and a smug pair of degenerates watching from across the table, you can’t help but feel a bit mortified.

Xinyan laughs merrily at the sight of you two. “C’mon, you gotta admit this side of him is cute! Who’da thought the calm and collected Kazuha would be such a cuddle bug with his lover?”

You swivel your head to face the musician. “He’s drunk, Xinyan!” you screech as Kazuha places butterfly kisses along your knuckles. “He may have no shame or inhibitions right now, but I most certainly do!”

You feel Kazuha shift beside you as he attempts to sit straight, his hand coming to rest on your cheek. Like you, it’s unbearably warm.

“My love, my heart, my dearest maple—” he pleads, “—would you look at me? I love when you look at me.”

You ignore Xinyan’s widening grin and steel yourself to meet your lover’s gaze. Archons, have mercy on me. When his eyes meet yours, his expression melts into one of pure bliss. Truly a lovesick fool.

“Your eyes…” he breathes, causing your heart to stutter. “Beautiful. Like a...as if the heavens…” he pauses, unable to put words to the sight of you. He hums as if in a daze. “Hmm~ so beautiful...”

Xinyan coos at the stumbling of words. “Aww, I think that’s the first time I’ve seen ol’ Kazu unable to finish a sentence! He usually has such a way with words.”

Through a bout of soft chuckles, the traveler finally seems to take pity on you as they shoot a look at Venti, nodding upstairs to signify they wanted to talk. Venti’s eyes light up in realization.

“Ah— of course! All this love in the air nearly made me forget why you’re visiting! Surely for more a drink with old friends?” The bard scampers from his seat and addresses the remaining party.

“As entertaining as this little display has been, I’m afraid my dear friend and I must discuss some business.” He shoots a wink in your direction. “Try not to have too much fun without us~ !”

Your glare is exceedingly less threatening with Kazuha practically sinking into you.

As their figures ascend up the stairs, you notice that said samurai has gone uncharacteristically quiet. When you glance down at him, you see that he's fallen asleep on your shoulder, your hands still intertwined where they rest in his lap. His little snores are briefly interrupted by soft giggles, and you can’t help the smile that breaks out at the sound.

Xinyan’s looks to you with softness. “He really loves you, y’know.”

You tuck a stray piece of hair behind Kazuha’s ear, causing him to instinctively lean into your touch. He mutters your name quietly beneath his breath.

Your smile deepens. “And I love him just as much.”

author’s note: i know we all had the same reaction to that drunk scene. I SEE YOU. Y’ALL CAN’T FOOL ME. also i’d like to share the wonderful news of my extended like span. 20 years or so thanks to the sound of his giggles. hope i added fuel to the fire with this one ;)

#kazuha #kaedahara kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #genshin #genshin impact #reader insert #raejin writes #raejin posts

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tsunami-of-tears · 5 months

Text

Quality Control

Lucien x Reader

A/N: Filthy but loving sex for Lucien and Reader. I enjoyed writing this a lot more than I thought I would.

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, pwp, vibrators, oral (f! receiving), fingering, squirting

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧

As the Heir of Day and the Night Court Emissary, Lucien spent a lot of time in the other courts of Prythian, working on building relations. You were so proud of him, and the leader he was becoming, but you missed him terribly while he was away.

You’ve been pacing around your home for the last thirty minutes. After spending most of the day trying to keep busy and distracted, you were very eager for your mate’s return, and could no longer sit still.

The clicking of a lock sounds at your front door. You race over to greet Lucien, pulling him into a crushing hug. He wraps his arms around you, bringing your body flush against his. You run your hands through his silken hair and lean back as you cast your eyes over his face, memorising every detail.

Lucien’s golden eye whirs as he looks you up and down. “Gods I’ve missed you,” he sighs and caresses your cheek with his calloused fingers. “I have a gift for you, Y/N. Nuan has been working on a new invention, she asked if we can test it.”

You let go of Lucien just long enough for him to remove his coat, hang it on the hook by the door, and fish a small gift box out of the pocket.

Nuan was a very talented inventor, so you were bursting with anticipation as you opened the box. Inside was a small, cylindrical object. You roll it into your palm, noticing the silky texture of the device. You have no clue what it is or what it does.

“What is it?” You ask Lucien curiously.

“Nuan is working on the name, but, it makes vibrations.” He gives you a coy smile, “It’s supposed to enhance… certain sensations. Make it more pleasurable.”

Your eyes widen as you look up at your mate. “We don’t have any issues in that department, Lucien”

“I know, but it could be fun.”

You hold up the device between your thumb and finger, arching a brow at Lucien.

“The first prototype was bigger, but she was able to make the motor smaller. It's tiny, but I was told it packs a punch.” He looks at you and licks his lips. “Care to try it out with me, Y/N?”

You nod, biting your lip as you look at Lucien’s and then back at his eyes. He pulls you close and kisses you deeply, full of longing. He lifts you up with ease without breaking the kiss, and you wrap your legs around his waist.

With your new toy in your hand, Lucien walks you down the hall, stopping when he reaches your shared room. He places you down carefully in the middle of the bed and peppers soft kisses all over your face, jaw and neck. You giggle as his lips brush the sensitive spot under your ear.

Lucien raises himself onto his forearms and looks down at you adoringly. “You get more beautiful every time I see you.”

You blush but look up through your lashes at Lucien as you tighten your legs around his waist, attempting to pull him closer.

Lucien reaches between you, tugging your dress up. He curses when he sees you have nothing on underneath it.

You give him a sheepish grin. “I knew you were coming home today, so I thought I’d be ready for you.”

Lucien closes his eyes briefly and exhales, the scent of his arousal hits you, making you squirm beneath him. “The things you do to me, Y/N”

He sits up to remove his own shirt and you pull your dress over your head, revealing the rest of your naked form to him.

Lucien curses again as he hovers over you. He works his mouth down your body, kissing down the column of your throat, and pausing to give some attention to your breasts. He puts one in his mouth, flicking your hard nipple with his tongue as he caresses the other with his hand, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You moan at his skilled touch, bucking your hips to try to get some friction where you need it most.

Lucien chuckles softly at your neediness, releasing your breasts and continuing on his journey down your body. He kisses all over your soft stomach, making sure you feel loved before travelling down further.

He hovers over your glistening cunt, admiring how wet you are for him already. Looking up at you, he murmurs, “You are exquisite,” before his lips make contact with your bundle of nerves.

You writhe under his mouth. Soft moans escape your lips and you feel your stomach flutter at every lick up your slit. His silver tongue is even more skilled at pleasuring you than talking.

Lucien runs a finger between your folds, gathering up your wetness. Once satisfied with your growing arousal, he inserts his finger all the way in and all the way out, fucking you so slowly that you start to beg. “Please Lucien, I need you. I need more.”

Lucien gives you a sly smirk, adding a second finger and reaching for your new toy.

He continues to fuck your cunt at an achingly slow pace while he presses the small button on the end of the device. It roars to life, buzzing away in his hand. You squirm in anticipation as he brings it closer to your clit.

Your eyes widen as he touches it to you. At the same time, Lucien curls his fingers, massaging your inner wall. You let out a string of incoherent moans as Lucien fucks you closer to your peak.

“Good girl, you’re doing so well,” Lucien says. “I know you’re close. Cum for me, cum on my fingers Y/N”

The constant vibrations combined with the strong thrusts of his dextrous fingers have your walls clenching as your climax erupts from you - along with a great gush of liquid from your sex. The sensation is so intense that your eyes roll back into your head, and your back arches as you grip the sheets. Lucien continues his steady thrusting as you ride out your high.

Once your pleasure subsides, Lucien turns the device off and puts it to the side. Panting heavily, you finally open your eyes to see him watching you with a look of pure sin. “Cauldron boil me, Y/N. That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Now we need a bath,” You laugh as you look over the mess on the sheets and Lucien’s pants.

Lucien grins widely, “But first, round two?”

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #lucien x reader #lucien smut #lucien vanserra smut #acotar smut #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

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yournameloveskpop · 2 months

Text

Game Night

Paring: Jeongin x Reader

Word count: 2,547

Warning: smut, NSFW, friendship, romance, oral (M receiving), teasing, pets names

A/N: if you’re planning to be intimate with your partner half way through a game with friends, make sure to double check you’re on mute.

Jeongin was deeply engrossed in an intense gaming session, the glow of his laptop illuminating his focused expression. His bedroom had transformed into a virtual battlefield, connecting him with Heeseung, Jimin, Beomgyu, and Felix—each in their own spaces, with Felix just a room away. They were all immersed in the game, their communication facilitated solely through the digital voices crackling through their headphones.

"Watch your six, Jeongin!" Felix's voice rang out, a hint of urgency mixed with laughter.

Jeongin, quick on the controls, responded with a chuckle, "Got it, Felix. Covering now."

Their teamwork was seamless, a symphony of clicks and commands filling the air. Meanwhile, the other friends chimed in, their voices a blend of concentration and casual banter.

"Jeongin, you're on fire today, man!" Beomgyu exclaimed, impressed by his friend's gaming prowess.

"Thanks, Beomgyu! You're not so bad yourself," Jeongin replied, his fingers dancing over the keyboard.

In the midst of this intense gaming atmosphere, Y/N entered the room silently, not wanting to disrupt the focused gamer. She settled quietly on his bed, observing the scene with a soft smile. Jeongin spared her a quick glance and a loving smile, acknowledging her presence before diving back into the virtual world with his friends.

As time ticked by, the thrill of watching Jeongin play began to wane for Y/N. She had come to the Stray Kids' apartment hoping for some quality time with him, but the game seemed endless. A spark of mischief lit up in her eyes as a playful idea took root in her mind. With a cheeky smirk, she stealthily positioned herself under Jeongin's desk, unnoticed by him, engrossed as he was in the game and his friends' chatter.

Completely absorbed in his gaming and the ongoing conversation with his friends, Jeongin didn't realize Y/N's movements—until she made her bold move. Her hand ventured up his thigh, reaching his sensitive spots, causing him to flinch and gasp unexpectedly.

"What's up, Jeongin? You alright there?" Heeseung's voice crackled with concern through the headphones.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Jeongin stammered, his voice strained as he attempted to maintain his composure, fighting back a low groan.

Jimin, ever the observant one, teased, "Sounds like you're not just battling in the game, huh?"

Jeongin chuckled nervously, "Just... got a bit surprised is all."

Down below the desk, Y/N looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with innocence and playful mischief. Jeongin met her gaze, an unspoken understanding passing between them. He was momentarily distracted, torn between the game and the unexpected turn of events.

Trying to focus on the game once more, Jeongin said, "Let's keep going, guys. We've got this match."

Yet, the game was no longer the only challenge Jeongin faced, as he tried to navigate this new, playful distraction. Y/N, reveling in the effect she was having, let out a soft giggle, her actions growing bolder as she playfully maneuvered his clothing, escalating the distraction.

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his skin, prompting Jeongin to bite down on his lip in a futile attempt to maintain his composure. A heavy sigh escaped him as he fought for control, his concentration fracturing under the dual assault of the game and Y/N’s teasing. His hands trembled over the keyboard, the battle on screen blurring as his focus waned.

In a moment of overwhelming sensation, a sharp curse slipped through Jeongin’s lips, the word slicing through the air with an intensity that matched his inner turmoil. Y/N’s skillful combination of touch and tease was proving to be too much.

On the other end of the line, the sudden expletive caught the attention of his friends. A chorus of laughter erupted through the headphones, their amusement clear.

“Whoa, Jeongin! That bad, huh?” Felix joked, assuming the curse was a reaction to a misstep in the game.

“Yeah, man. Never heard you swear like that over a hit,” Beomgyu added, chuckling along with the others, oblivious to the true cause of Jeongin’s outburst.

Jeongin, struggling to regain his composure, let out a nervous laugh, “Yeah, you guys got me. Just got…caught off guard, is all.”

Jimin’s voice came through next, laced with humor, “Sure, ‘caught off guard.’ We believe you. Just don’t lose focus on the game, alright?”

As Y/N slowly retreated from her initial position, she was far from done. Elevating the intensity, she hoisted herself onto Jeongin's lap, facing him directly. The fact that she was wearing a skirt did nothing to ease the building tension Jeongin felt. His reaction was immediate, a pronounced gulp as she made herself more comfortable. She eased herself down onto Jeongin’s hardened dick, her movements deliberately provocative.

She began to roll her hips against his with increasing fervor, his eyes darkening, jaw clenched in a mix of frustration and desire. The escalation was rapid, and Jeongin found himself at a breaking point. He hastily excused himself from the game, citing an 'important' matter that needed his immediate attention.

"Guys, I've got to handle something real quick," Jeongin muttered, his voice strained, hoping his excuse sounded believable.

"What's up? Everything okay?" Felix's voice came through, tinged with concern and curiosity.

"Yeah, just... something urgent. Be right back," Jeongin managed to say, quickly pausing his game and muting his microphone—or so he thought.

Freed from the immediate demands of the game, Jeongin's hands moved from the keyboard to firmly grip Y/N's hips, his gaze intensely locked on hers. The room around them seemed to fall away as she continued to move, the mounting tension between them palpable.

Jeongin couldn't hold back any longer, letting out a low groan that had been building up inside him. In a moment of heated passion, he delivered a sharp smack, eliciting a loud yelp from Y/N—a sound that was quickly followed by a mischievous giggle, signaling her enjoyment.

"You're a naughty girl, you know that?" Jeongin growled, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down her spine. “You wanted me this bad, huh? You couldn’t wait another twenty minutes.

Y/N's only response was a whine, mixed with pleasure, as Jeongin's actions intensified. Their movements becoming more synchronised and her hands gripping the top of his chair for support.

"God, you're so bad. I should punish you right on the spot," Jeongin pondered aloud, the edge of his voice betraying his own escalating excitement. “I Shouldn’t let you finish should I?”

“Please Jeonie. I’ve missed you so much,” She pleaded with him, her voice desperate, expressing her longing for him, a longing that had only grown during his long shifts and relentless schedule.

"Awe, baby. You don't think I miss you too?" Jeongin grunted, his resolve softening. "Okay, I'll let you cum, but I need to finish this game, so don't think I'm done with you yet."

Their shared climax approached rapidly, the room's temperature seeming to rise with their actions.

"Yes, baby, just like that," Jeongin encouraged, his grip tightening, urging them both towards the edge. “Fuck! you feel so good.”

Finally, they reached their peak together, their cries of release mingling in the charged air. After a moment to catch their breath, Jeongin helped Y/N adjust, keeping her close on his lap. He leaned in for a kiss, one that conveyed both deep affection and passionate desire, before attempting to reengage with his friends online.

It was only then, as he re-donned his headphones, that the mortifying realization hit him—he hadn't muted his microphone at all. The silence from his friends was deafening, his face draining of color as he braced himself for their reactions.

“G-Guys?” Jeongin’s voice trembled slightly, filled with a mixture of embarrassment and apprehension.

There was a brief pause before Jimin’s voice broke the silence, his tone a perfect cocktail of shock and amusement.

“Whoa, dude… that was something else,” he managed to say, trying to stifle his laughter but failing miserably.

Almost immediately, Beomgyu’s laughter erupted, uncontrollable and infectious. “Jeongin, man, you’ve just redefined game night for us!” he exclaimed, finding the whole situation hilariously unexpected.

Felix, unable to contain his amusement, chimed in from the other room, his laughter booming through both the microphone and the walls. “I didn’t know we were playing that kind of game tonight!” he joked, adding to the playful atmosphere.

The fact that Felix had experienced the spectacle both through the microphone and firsthand from his adjacent bedroom only added to the hilarity of the situation.

Heeseung, always the one to add a bit of flair to the conversation, teased, “Well, Jeongin, seems like you’ve got some… interesting strategies for winning.”

Jimin, jumping back into the conversation with a laugh, added, “Yeah man, and here I was, thinking I was the master of distractions!”

Amidst the laughter and teasing from his friends, Y/N, deciding to embrace the moment, leaned towards the microphone. “Hey everyone,” she greeted, her voice filled with a mix of amusement and a slight hint of defiance, ready to own the situation.

The response was immediate; a mixture of surprised greetings and laughter greeted her announcement.

“Y/N, officially the MVP of tonight’s game,” Felix declared through his laughter, acknowledging her unexpected participation.

Beomgyu, ever the instigator, added, “Looks like you two took ‘teamwork’ to a whole new level!”

Jeongin, finally catching up with the laughter, allowed himself a sheepish grin. “Guys, I swear, it wasn’t part of the plan,” he confessed, his tone light and filled with embarrassment yet tinged with a bit of pride.

Heeseung, with a chuckle, advised, “Maybe keep the mic muted next time, yeah?”

Jimin added, “Or, you know, just make sure to invite us to the right kind of game night,” his voice teasing and light.

The room was filled with laughter, the earlier tension dissolving into a shared moment of joy and camaraderie. It was clear that this incident, as embarrassing as it might have been, only served to strengthen the bonds between them, turning what could have been an awkward situation into a story they’d all laugh about for years to come.

Y/N, now fully part of the conversation, joked, “Next time, we’ll make sure to check the mic twice.”

Jeongin, feeling a mix of relief and happiness, realized that despite the initial embarrassment, these moments with Y/N and his friends were what truly mattered. “Thanks for being cool, guys,” he said, genuinely grateful for their understanding and humor.

The conversation eventually moved on, but the laughter and teasing about that night’s unexpected turn of events lingered, a testament to the strength of their friendships and the memorable moments they shared, no matter how unconventional.

The game session had finally come to an end, marked by a chorus of farewells and a final round of teasing, especially aimed at Jeongin.

“Alright, guys, I think it’s time we called it a night. Great game, though!” Jeongin said, trying to steer the conversation towards a close.

“Sure, Jeongin, just make sure next time your… ‘distractions’ are kept in check, yeah?” Heeseung chuckled, his voice laced with amusement.

“Hey, Jeongin, remember to mute your mic next time, okay? We don’t need a live broadcast!” Jimin added, laughter evident in his tone.

As the virtual room filled with goodbyes, Jeongin couldn’t help but laugh along, despite the blush that warmed his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll remember. Goodnight, guys.”

Once the call ended, Jeongin leaned back in his chair, a sigh escaping him as he turned off his PC and unplugged his headphones and microphone, ensuring no more unexpected broadcasts would occur. Glancing down, he noticed Y/N’s head resting peacefully against his chest, her breathing soft and steady, the excitement of their earlier escapade having taken its toll on her.

He carefully scooped her up, her body light in his arms, and gently placed her on the bed. She stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. “Jeongin?” she murmured, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Just wait here, okay? I’ll be right back,” he whispered, his voice tender.

He quickly adjusted his jeans, a silent reminder of their earlier activities, and headed out of the room.

His mission was simple: grab a bowl of hot water and a flannel for some much-needed aftercare. But as he stepped into the hallway, he came face-to-face with Felix, who wore a knowing grin.

“Off for round two, or is this the aftercare part?” Felix teased, leaning casually against the wall.

Jeongin couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “Just some aftercare, man. You know how it is.”

Felix raised his eyebrows, his grin widening. “Sure, sure. Aftercare. So, how are you two holding up after…you know?”

Jeongin paused, a soft smile spreading across his face. “We’re good, Felix. Really good.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Just remember, Jeongin, we could hear everything. Next time, double-check that mute button, will ya?” Felix laughed, the memory of the night’s mishap still fresh.

Jeongin’s laugh joined Felix’s, the awkwardness of the situation diffused by their friendship. “I’ll remember that. Thanks for the heads up.”

Felix nodded, stepping aside to let Jeongin pass. “Just making sure you’re taking care of our Y/N, okay? She’s precious, you know? And hey, if you need anything—like, not about that, but anything else—just shout.”

“Will do, Felix. Thanks, man,” Jeongin replied, his heart warming at the gesture of friendship.

As Jeongin continued his quest for the bowl and flannel, he couldn’t help but reflect on the night’s events. It had been a rollercoaster of emotions, filled with unexpected turns, laughter, and a deepening of his relationship with Y/N.

Back in his room, Y/N sat up, waiting for him, her eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and affection. “Everything okay?” she asked, noticing his amused expression.

Jeongin nodded, setting down the bowl and flannel. “Everything’s perfect. Just had a little chat with Felix.”

Y/N laughed, the sound music to his ears. “I can only imagine what about.”

“Let’s just say, he offered his… support,” Jeongin said, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

As he tended to Y/N with the warm flannel and dressed her into his baggy clothes, the two shared soft conversations and gentle touches, the bond between them strengthening with each moment. They spoke of the night, their friends’ reactions, and the unexpected journey their relationship had taken.

“Jeongin,” Y/N began, her voice soft, “I never expected tonight to turn out this way, but I’m grateful for every moment.”

Jeongin paused, his actions stilling as he met her gaze. “Me too, Y/N. It’s been… incredible, you’re incredible. And I’m here for you, always.”

The room filled with the warmth of their affection, the outside world fading away as they lost themselves in each other. Laughter, whispers, and tender caresses painted the night, a testament to their growing connection.

As the night deepened, they found solace in each other’s presence, the events of the evening weaving a new thread into the fabric of their relationship.

as they finally settled down, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s arms, the world outside seemed miles away. In that moment, they had everything they needed—each other.

57 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 28 days

Text

A Little More Space

Requested Here!

Pairing: Dalton Lambert x fem!reader

Summary: After overhearing Dalton say you're clingy, you give him the space he wants. Dalton, however, needs to close the distance and remind you that he loves everything about you, including the lack of space.

Warnings: angst, fluff, takes place after The Red Door

Word Count: 2.9k+ words

“No way,” Foster says.

His voice echoes in Dalton’s empty dorm room, but Dalton rolls his eyes as if they’re standing face-to-face.

“What is that supposed to mean, Foster?” Dalton asks.

“That I don’t believe you. And I swear, Dalton, if you tell me it’s Chris…”

“It’s not Chris.”

The door opens and Dalton sighs. Since he closed the red door, he’s gotten less jumpy, but his calmness about someone waltzing into his private room is different. It’s one of two people standing behind him.

“What’s not me?”

“Chris,” Dalton greets as he turns around. “I’m talking to my brother.”

“About his girlfriend,” Foster cuts in. “What’s up with that? It’s not April 1st, right?”

Chris tilts her head to look at Dalton. “The girlfriend isn’t a new development. They’ve been together since freshman year.”

“What?!” Foster exclaims.

“Yeah. Seems like closing the door is all your brother needed to find it in himself to get a girl. Wait, you haven’t introduced her to your family?”

Dalton rubs his jaw while looking for an answer that doesn’t sound made up or like he’s hiding something.

“You’re nervous,” Chris answers for him. “Wanted to make sure it was more than a fling I guess. As if the sudden absence of personal space wasn’t enough to tell you that.”

“Oh, dude,” Foster says. He pauses to laugh before asking, “When can I come visit and meet her?”

“Stay in school,” Dalton replies. “Bye, Foster.”

Dalton ends the call before Foster can say anything else. He tosses his phone on the bed and turns to face Chris.

“Hi, Chris,” he greets again.

“Hey,” she answers.

Her smile shows how aware she is that Dalton does not appreciate the interruption. Chris can understand why he may want to keep you separated from his personal life, but not his family. You’re energetic, friendly, and impossible not to love. Although Chris teases you and Dalton about your relationship, she can see that it is true and that you and Dalton care deeply for one another.

“Speaking of personal space, where is the future Mrs. Dalton?” Chris inquires.

As if summoned, you knock on the still-open door. Dalton smiles when he sees you, and he doesn’t hesitate to invite you inside.

“Hi,” you greet brightly as you toss your bag onto the floor.

You wrap your arms around Dalton’s waist as you say hello, then step away just long enough to hug Chris, too. Spending time with Dalton is your favorite thing in the world, and you have so much to tell him today. His conversation with Chris probably takes precedence, though, so you wrap your hands around Dalton’s biceps and bounce on your toes so they can finish talking.

“How have you put up with Dolphin for so long?” Chris asks.

“Put up with him? I don’t put up with him,�� you answer quickly. “I love him.”

Dalton’s cheeks begin to redden, but he turns toward you and lets his hair hide his face from Chris. She laughs because she already knows how easily affected Dalton is.

“What?” you ask. “Ooh, speaking of dolphins, I have something I wanted to tell both of you.”

“I’ve got a study date in twenty minutes,” Chris says. “Is this another weird fact that will thoroughly distract me until it’s over?”

“I mean, I’ve been thinking about it since lunch, but I don’t know if you’ll think it’s as cool as I do.”

Chris smiles and clicks her tongue. “Tell me everything, Goldie.”

The nickname isn’t new, but you’re still unsure what it’s about. Dalton and Chris are both well aware that it is a reference to your golden retriever-like qualities and personality. Even if they told you, you wouldn’t mind, but Chris gets a lot of joy from seeing confusion on your face if only for a moment until you find something more interesting to focus on.

“Okay,” you begin. “So, I was walking to lunch and these two guys were talking about dolphins and I overheard it. Actually, there was a big butterfly that I was following, but I got distracted when I heard the word ‘dolphin.’”

“Can’t imagine why,” Chris interjects.

Dalton shakes his head at Chris while he wraps his arm around your waist. You’re pressed to his side, but your flexing fingers show that you want to be even closer. Chris has often joked that you may as well just live in Dalton’s lap with how close you perch yourself.

“One of them said that dolphins have two stomachs, which apparently is really common knowledge according to the other guy. But, then they started talking about the fact that dolphins can recognize themselves in a mirror! Isn’t that cool? And they can also use tools, so their intelligence isn’t completely unlike ours.”

“That’s crazy,” Dalton offers, though his attention is on you more than what you’re saying.

“Alright, I have to go, but now I want to see a dolphin build a house or something. The tool thing is cool,” Chris says as she stands.

The moment you are alone, you begin tapping a foot as you wait for Dalton. He sits on his bed and smiles at your energy before opening an arm toward you. You cling to his side but continue moving your hands up his arm, over his shoulder, and into his hair. You create several small braids as you talk about your day, but Dalton doesn’t care. He loves everything about you: your high energy, talkative tendencies, and clinginess. Chris teases him about how much he likes it, and she hasn’t been wrong yet.

“Oh! And I wanted to ask what you’re doing this summer. I want to go to the beach, but I’d love for you to come. Your family is welcome to come, too, if you want. Foster and Kali sound great,” you continue.

“That sounds fun. Maybe we should introduce you first; you may not like Foster,” Dalton responds.

“I like everyone.”

Dalton chuckles as he pats your leg. It’s true, you like everyone, but Dalton is the only one you love the way you do. When you turn to lay against his chest and trace shapes over his shirt, Dalton realizes that he wouldn’t mind if you took Chris’s advice and lived permanently attached to him.

✯✯✯✯✯

The sky seems prettier when you’re on the way to visit Dalton. With your eyes on the clouds, you don’t notice a tree branch blocking the sidewalk. Your foot catches on it and you immediately extend your arms to catch yourself. The bloody lines coating your forearms look bad, but nothing can take away your smile. After jumping to your feet, you rush to Dalton’s dorm and don’t notice the stinging sensation covering your arms.

You skip onto Dalton’s floor and stop outside his closed door. As you raise your hand to knock, you freeze at the sound of a voice that isn’t Dalton’s.

“How long have you been with…” someone asks.

Dalton says your name before answering, “Since freshman year.”

“You haven’t considered trying something new?”

“Not at all.”

A third voice joins with a boisterous laugh. “Dalton, bro, I know we’re art students, so we have to be a bit weird, but… Doesn’t it bother you? The constant talking and how she has to be touching you?”

Your smile drops. Unable to remember the last time you felt like this, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and anxiously await Dalton’s answer. Being energetic and clingy doesn’t mean you are insensitive; you still have feelings and insecurities even if you don’t show them.

“I mean,” Dalton says slowly. “Yeah, she’s clingy, always touching me.”

Dalton keeps talking, but you turn and run. Running to Dalton’s dorm was different, and as you pass the tree branch that tripped you, you begin to feel pain. It’s unusual now because you’ve been happy and golden since meeting Dalton. Now, you know that he needs a little more space. You’re clingy and always touching him, so you will give him the room he needs.

✯✯✯✯✯

Dalton wants to run his classmates out, but they’re nearly finished with the group project. When your name is brought up, he becomes even more encouraged to empty his dorm before you arrive.

“Doesn’t it bother you? The constant talking and how she has to be touching you?”

The question jars Dalton. Yes, he knows that you are touchy and talkative, but he has never been bothered by it. Dalton loves you, and those qualities make you the one Dalton loves.

“I mean, yeah, she’s clingy, always touching me,” Dalton admits. “But it’s, like, addictive. Her voice and her touch are the only things I want most days. Call me a crazy artist for that, but her happiness is contagious.”

“That’s unique, bro,” one of his classmates says. “But I for one have a first and only date lined up, so I have to go.”

Dalton gladly shows them out and looks down the hallway. You’re usually here by now, so you must be running late. There aren’t any texts from you, though, which concerns Dalton. He calls you and it goes to voicemail. Only after he texts you does he get an answer.

Sorry, I got busy. See you later?

Dalton immediately knows something is wrong. Your text is out of character: devoid of emojis and excitement. He’s concerned but understands it as meaning that you are truly busy. After agreeing to meet later, Dalton sits by himself and misses you. Being in a relationship with you, Dalton has never had to show how clingy he is, but right now he needs you.

✯✯✯✯✯

The following day, you try to keep your mind off Dalton. It isn’t easy though; the sun doesn’t seem as bright or happy, and your smile is nothing but an upturning of your closed lips. The people you pass on the sidewalk daily look twice; they are confused by the sudden difference in your appearance and personality.

When you pass Dalton on the sidewalk and don’t even look up at him, he knows his concerns were well-founded.

“Hey,” Dalton says.

He lays a hand on your arm, and you jump under him. When your eyes meet his, you force a bigger smile onto your face and step back. Dalton’s hand falls as his brows raise. You, however, are just trying to give him the space he wants.

“Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep,” you say. It’s true, but it’s because of him. “Maybe we could take another raincheck?”

“If that’s what you want.”

You nod and look over your shoulder. After offering a half-hearted and disappointed farewell, you leave Dalton. The sudden distance is heartbreaking, and Dalton needs to figure out what happened. To do that, he needs an expert.

✯✯✯✯✯

Over the next two days, you become distant with Dalton. The few times he manages to see you in person, you seem desperate to get away from him. What hurts worse is how you respond to his calls and texts. Your new sadness and disinterest are, unknown to Dalton, a cover to hide how much his words affect you. Pulling away from Dalton hurts both of you, but you are convinced that it is what he wants.

As you sit in your room and stare blankly at the wall, Dalton is searching for answers. He calls Chris and begs her to come over. She agrees, partly because she’s interested, partly because Dalton is her friend, and mostly because Dalton hasn’t sounded like this since the fight against the Further.

“What’s the rush?” she asks as she walks into the dorm. Dalton doesn’t comment as she slides her key into her pocket, and she becomes keenly aware that something is terribly wrong. “Dolphin, talk to me.”

Dalton simply asks what happened to you. He gives a brief explanation of how different and distant you are before repeating himself to ask, “What happened?”

“I don’t know. If she’s not talking to you… What did you do?”

Dalton pulls his shoulders to his ears and spreads his hands. “Nothing. That I know of at least. We were fine the day before she texted.”

“What did you do that day, then? Run me through everything.”

Dalton nods before recounting his every move for the day. Chris asks him to fast-forward through his bathroom trip and he reaches the meeting in his dorm room.

“So, he asked if I got tired of her talking and touching me and I said, you know, yeah, she’s clingy, but-“

Chris stands quickly and looks at Dalton with wide eyes. “You called her clingy?”

“She is. But then I said that I loved that about her. I’m clingy too!”

“I know all of that, Dalton. She must have heard somehow because that is the perfect reason to stop clinging. You need to find a better word than ‘clingy’ and go apologize.”

Dalton tugs his hair before standing. He needs to see you and explain himself right now. As he runs out of his room and toward you, he runs through what he can say, what he should say, to make you see how much he loves you. Clinginess included.

✯✯✯✯✯

Rapid knocks on your door pull your attention from the page before you. It’s covered with random, meaningless doodles. Despite your new lack of clinginess, you are still energetic and need to spend that somehow. Since Dalton needs space, you’ve taken to pacing your room and doodling to pass the time.

When you open the door and see the boy you’ve been thinking about, you drop your chin. The distance has to remain because you will get clingy again the first chance you get. Dalton is inviting, he’s safe, and he is your constant. If you end up in his arms, you’ll start talking and go back to being too wordy and too touchy.

“Can I come in?” Dalton asks quietly.

You nod and step back to keep physical space between you.

“Did you come to the dorm while I was with my art group?” he asks. You nod again and he asks, “And you heard what I said, right?”

With your lips pressed together, you nod yet again. Dalton wants to hear your voice, feel your touch, and show you how much he loves you. He has to convince you to let him first.

“Can you please tell me exactly what you heard?”

You take a deep breath before recounting, “Just that I’m talkative and clingy. I’m sorry.”

Dalton shakes his head, and his hair moves wildly. “I did say that. But that’s not all I said. I said that I love that you’re clingy because I am too. I love your voice and being with you… I need it because I love you.”

“Clingy isn’t a good thing,” you whisper.

“It is. It is for us.”

Dalton takes a step toward you, and your eyes brighten as you raise them.

“I’m sorry that I said it,” Dalton adds. “Not because I don’t mean it, but because it hurt you and pushed you away. I didn’t mean it badly; I promise that. I love you, and your clingy touches and your rambles.”

“Can I- can you hug me?” you ask.

Dalton smiles as he pulls you into his arms. He holds you tightly, he clings to you. As you lean your head against him, he whispers more promises in your ear.

“I love you, just the way you are,” he promises softly.

You pull back and look at him, and your smile is back. Dalton cradles your face and kisses you. When you giggle against his lips, he feels a huge relief at having you back. Back to yourself and back in his arms. Dalton moves his hands down your arms, and you inhale sharply when he reaches your forearms. Your smile doesn’t drop, and you don’t say anything, so Dalton looks away from your face to push your sleeves up. The sight of the deep scratches makes his eyes go wide, and he holds your hands gently to look.

“What happened?” Dalton asks as he pushes you toward your bed.

“I was coming to see you and there was a tree branch in the sidewalk. A cloud above me looked like a dog and so I didn’t see the branch,” you explain happily.

Your feet swing over the edge of the bed, and Dalton sits beside you to bandage your arms.

“Alright, this may hurt,” Dalton says as he applies ointment to your arms.

“Can I tell you about what happened yesterday? I haven’t-“

“Please tell me,” Dalton interrupts. “I’ve missed your voice. I need you to know that, okay? I love you; I love being with you, near you. If you weren’t a cuddler, I’d be the one that looks clingy; I’d probably suffocate you keeping you close.”

Dalton rubs his thumb over your knuckles as you nod along with his promises.

“Suffocation wouldn’t be fun.”

“It wouldn’t. If Foster doesn’t believe I have a girlfriend, imagine what he’d think if I killed you. Hurting your feelings was bad enough.”

“I think I’d like Foster,” you muse.

“You will. I’ll have to introduce you soon. For now, can I hold your hand and hear all about what I missed?”

You gasp excitedly and turn toward Dalton. With your legs spread over his lap and your arms in his hands, you smile and begin talking about every moment that you spent away from Dalton. He hangs onto every word and enjoys the feeling of being with you again. When you mention going to the beach again, Dalton knows that he will go with you, and once you meet Foster, he’ll want to go too.

#hanna writes✯#dalton lambert x fem!reader #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert fluff #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert #insidious #insidious 5 #insidious the red door #the red door #fem!reader #requests

28 notes · View notes

paintedstarz · 5 months

Text

Heiji Hattori's lack of boundary was a lot for most people to handle, but for Hakuba, and his lack of understanding of body language and tones, does not mind. Hakuba took it as a privileged offering of comfort Hattori had opposed on him.

This was untrue, as the two had never naturally gotten along. Although, through mingling upon cases and with a enough of Shinichi's exasperated sighs, the two learned to tolerate one another.

Hakuba felt delighted to have Hattori offer supposed kindness, "a step to ease the tension in our new acquaintance," he thought aloud one day, striking a bizarre look from Hattori.

"Nah, I do that wit' everyone. It bothers m'real bad though, but I don' mean to," Heiji rambled, though the quality of his explanation was so poor that Hakuba squinted in confusion as if he could attempt to see it better.

"Ya don' seem ta' mind though. Ya surprised me!" Hattori smiled. He jutted out his elbow to prod at Hakuba's side playfully.

Hakuba looked down in a bashful manner, feeling a pleasant warmth blossom in his chest. No, he didn't mind. No one else had ever been so outward at expressing their affections like Hattori had been towards him.

"People like Kudoh' fer' example hate it, then again he's always pushin' everyone away," Heiji murmured, frowning. His gaze suddenly fixated elsewhere, as if his trail of thought were drifting off up into the sky.

Hakuba blinked, he had to constantly remind himself of Kudo Shinichi, who had suddenly reappeared. Shinichi never stuck around in one place, but that never stopped Heiji from taking almost every chance to mention him.

"Kazuha doesn't like it either, but I forget that a lot." Heiji chuckles, erupting a small, unexpected smile from Hakuba. He hadn't meant to smile, it was just instinctive to smile whenever Hattori did.

"Ran is nice 'bout it, but ya can't hover 'round a girl yanno? Especially since we ain't datin' or nothin'." Heiji clicked his tongue disapprovingly, leaning over the fencing, before resting his elbows over the rusted edge.

"Ya met Ran before, yeah?" Heiji cocks his head to the side, looking over at Hakuba.

Hakuba has the slightest instinct to frown, but he fought off the urge and pursed his lips instead.

"You're interested in Mouri's daughter?" Hakuba asked, voice slightly out of it's usual pitch.

"What?" Hattori's shoulders tense.

Hattori opened his mouth slowly, exhaling through his nose deeply as if Hakuba had uttered the stupidest words in coherent human language.

"We ain't datin' so it'd be weird for me ta' invade her personal space, and it'd look weird too! I ain't know her all dat' well!" Heiji spat, he seemed rather revolted at the thought.

"She's pretty n'all but I ain't got my eye on her, yanno?" Heiji said, straining his jaw in a rather exaggerated pout.

Hakuba meekly lowered his shoulders and drove his hands deeper into his pockets as if they were to swallow him.

I want to disappear, he thought miserably.

He had misunderstood as usual.

Hattori smacked the back of his head playfully, "Don' get tha' wrong idea pal," he warned.

What on earth did that mean?

His reaction was so defensive. Did that insinuate he's dating someone else?

Who did Hattori have eye for? Hakuba frowned.

Timidly, Hakuba's eyes wander to make contact with Hattori's. Hattori beamed a playful smile in response, glowing in the golden sun. The light danced over his dark skin, engulfing him in the golden light as if it were honey.

It was quite a beautiful color, the sunny hues over such melanin-rich skin.

Hakuba raises a hand to wipe at his face in disbelief.

He frowns deeply at the thought; Have I caught eye for Hattori?

#detective conan #dcmk #magic kaito #saguhei #hakuba saguru #heiji hattori #shinichi kudo #my writing #short ficlet #》 my writing.★》

43 notes · View notes

e-wills-afterhours · 1 year

Note

Heeey. I have a request, Hiccup having phantom pains and Astrid taking care of him? Thanks!

A/N: Sure thing, Nonny. I think I wrote this very oneshot years ago, but I cannot find it, for the life of me. Might as well do an updated version!

And who doesn't love a little Hiccstrid tenderness, amirite?

Our beloved OTP is 17 here. I also seem to be writing a lot of Hiccstrid from the 5-year gap between HTTYD 1 and 2 lately minus RTTE...

Aaaaaand, I'm kind of okay with that right now. I hope you are too.

Rating: T (all of my work pretty much is unless I rate it otherwise)

Just One of Many Things

-------

If Astrid was asked to list all of the things she appreciated about Hiccup Horrendous Haddock, it would be long. Perhaps, equal in length to all of the things that aggravated her about him. Some qualities even held spots in both categories. His stubbornness, for example, could be quite the asset when he was in the right; but just as much a headache when he got stuck on some new harebrained idea.

She loved him, regardless.

Growing up amid dragon raids, she did not understand the old adage "opposites attract." It seemed counterintuitive. What held two people together who could not see eye-to-eye on anything? In those days, there was no one more unsuited for each other's company than she and Hiccup.

But then the fog of war lifted, and she finally saw him for who he was. She came to realize that they had more in common than she dared to imagine. They wanted the same things, from the world and each other; albeit their approaches were drastically different. Therein lied their beautiful counterbalance. Everything she needed was within his capacity to give.

He was patient and kind, slow to anger, and remarkably intelligent--almost frighteningly so. Generous with his resources and abilities, she seldom had to ask him for anything he hadn't already thought to provide. He was the calm to her storm.

But true to form, some of his other admirable qualities irked her as much as they endeared him to her--and in that moment, his fierce independence was the bane of her existence. He had a pesky habit of refusing to ask for help, even if he needed it.

The more she pressed him for the truth, the more he denied the extent of the problem.

"Just because you can suffer in silence, doesn't mean you have to," she huffed, arms folded. "You're not winning any prizes."

"I'm fine," he insisted, through gritted teeth as he limped toward the hearth, all but dragging his prosthetic along.

His gait was always the slightest bit uneven, ever since the Red Death took his left leg. One needed a keen eye to notice it; he had adapted so quickly. It made his exaggerated lurches all the more pronounced and worrisome as he braced himself against the mantle.

"You're in pain," she said, frowning deeply.

"It's just a little burning," he replied with a feeble smile, the faintest edge in his voice.

Astrid could make out the beads of sweat glistening on his brow and upper lip from across the room. The crackling fire illuminated them clearly.

"Hiccup, there's nothing there to burn," she retorted, pointing to his metal appendage.

He let out a dry laugh. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

Astrid clicked her tongue. Unlike him, she was prone to impatience. She strode across the room and grabbed him by the shoulders. With a sweep of a well-placed boot to the ankle, she kicked his good and steady leg out from underneath him. Looping one arm beneath his, she guided his fall and avoided further injury as he crumpled to the floor.

"Frigg og Eir!" Astrid, he hissed when he landed. "You don't have to kick my leg out from underneath me! I only have just the one!"

She crouched down in front of him, her expression flat. "At least your sense of humor's still intact."

"Are you going to be kicking that out from me next?" he asked, indignant.

She sighed and sat back on her knees. Her face softened when she considered his labored breathing and clenched fists. His mouth was a tight, thin line as he tried to force the pain down where she wouldn't see. But the suffering was plain in his eyes.

"Please, let me help you," she murmured, placing a hand on his knee. "I want to do this. Just...tell me how."

He paused for a beat, then said, "You really don't have to--"

"Hiccup...," and his name was a soft plea on her lips; one he never could resist.

A drop of sweat trickled down from his temple. He stared at her. There was obvious tension in his neck and shoulders. His left leg jutted out stiffly in front of him while he leaned back. It was as if he thought distance from his metal leg my improve things.

He finally relented with a shuddering exhale.

"Okay." He sat up a little straighter and repeated with more conviction, "Okay."

Astrid gently unfastened his prosthetic and set it aside. Not too long ago, he would have never allowed such a thing--to spare her from his indignity, or some such nonsense. But she never cared, and he had come to accept that. A quarter or more of the adults on Berk had some sort of fake extremity: battle scares of a bygone era. Nothing about Hiccup could ever repulse her. After all, she had grown up alongside Snotlout and the twins; and nothing was sacred anymore.

"When was the last time this happened?" she asked as she rolled his pantleg up over his knee.

"Months ago," he replied, teeth clenched. He breathed through the pain, nostrils flaring. "I don't remember. It's been that long."

"What now?" she asked, holding what remained of his lower leg in her hands.

He betrayed himself with a small whimper, then gestured vaguely at the kitchen. "There's a cloth or a rag. Boiled water on the pot on the table. Should just be warm now."

Astrid filled in the blanks, which wasn't difficult. She got up at once to fetch the rag and took it over to the pot of water that had more than likely been boiled for tea, or some other herbal concoction. With caution, she tested the temperature of the water with the knuckle of her pinky finger. Deciding it was no longer scalding, as Hiccup had said, she dunked the rag in. The excess water, she wrung back into the pot.

"Do I lay it on, or do I wrap it?" she asked, returning to where her boyfriend sat on the floor.

"Wrap it," he replied. Then, with a weak grin, he added, "Please."

Astrid nodded and wrapped the warm rag around the stump of his leg with great care, covering as much of the residual calf muscle as possible. She gave his leg the tenderest squeeze.

He let out a groan, head falling back as he supported his weight on his hands.

"No good?" Astrid asked in alarm. "Is it too hot?"

"It hurts, but it's perfect."

She wrinkled her nose. "What?"

"Do...that again," he said, making a kneading motion in the air with his hands.

"Massage?"

"Yes. But it sounds better when you say it."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "You're such a dork. I mean, truly-- the smartest dumbass I've ever known."

He flashed her a genuine smile then laid all the way back on the floor. She settled in a crossed-legged position and massaged the length of his lower leg, up to the knee, over the warm rag.

They stayed in comfortable silence apart from the occasional pop and hiss from the fire. Hiccup, lying down with his eyes closed, and Astrid, tending to the stump in her lap. It was peaceful and uniquely intimate. She'd keep at it all night to take his pain away, if he only asked, but she knew he never would. So, she did what she could for him in that late hour, running her thumbs to the bend of his knee with steady pressure. Followed by long, kneading strokes back down to the end of his limb, where thick ribbons of scar tissue and mangled remnants of flesh all came together, long stitched off. She wondered how much of her touch he could still feel. He had never told her.

She wondered vaguely if her parents were expecting her home. Time was of little consequence whenever they were alone together. The minutes either crawled or flew by; it didn't really matter either way. All Astrid cared about was easing some of the burden he carried. To help, to do something for him, was all she ever wanted.

Hiccup's breathing eventually evened out. His skin was no longer adorned with sweat, and all the tension had left his body. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was asleep.

"Hiccup?" she asked, cutting through silence, and it was almost jarring.

"Hm?" he replied, opening his eyes to meet her gaze.

"Does the pain always feel the same? Like your leg's on fire, I mean."

He thought for a moment, staring at the ceiling, then answered, "Yes. It happens far less often now than it did in the beginning. But the feeling is always the same. Maybe slightly less intense, but I can't recall."

Astrid shook her head. To imagine a sudden and unexpected sensation of one's own flesh burning was horrific.

"Well, that's awful," she muttered.

He shrugged. "Gobber told me this 'phantom pain' happens more often in the first few years. I might get to a point where it doesn't happen anymore. Or it could happen randomly and infrequently for the rest of my life. Who knows."

"I just...hate that it has to be you."

A silence fell over them again, much heavier than the last. He studied her all the while, his eyes appearing impossibly warmer in the firelight.

He sat up slowly. "I'm alright now. You can stop." When she shot him a skeptical look, he insisted, "Honestly, it's passed. These episodes don't last forever."

She sighed and handed him his metal leg, which he took after rolling his pantleg back down. The speed and finesse with which he reattached was always interesting--but what was more remarkable was that he never complained. Not once, that she had ever heard. Yet, he had brought peace to their island, and he saved the people that had chided him for years--but no one else lost limbs in that fight. Just one boy and his dragon, against an ancient monster, risking everything to stop the cycle of fire and death that plagued their people for centuries. The exchange seemed one-sided; that he should still experience echos of pain from that day, was a terrible injustice in her eyes.

"Do you ever regret it?" she asked.

He glanced up, brow furrowed, as if the question itself was confusing.

"The Red Death is gone. The dragons are free. Berk is safer for our people and our dragons. You're safer." He took her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. With the utmost assuredness, he answered, "No. I don't regret it. Not for a moment."

She closed her eyes and leaned forward until their foreheads touched.

"You're unbelievable, Hiccup Haddock," she said. "Completely unbelievable."

"I thought that's what you love about me."

"Just one of many things," she murmured against his lips, and he smiled.

#hiccstrid #hiccstrid fic #i rewrote this like 3 times #here you go i guess?#*jazz hands*

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baconcolacan · 1 year

Note

How would Stay Tord react or take care of Tom, if he secretly overworked himself and fell asleep somewhere?, (like on the desk or just in a chair lol)

Not an art request

You guys make it so hard to resist.

Words: 5513 "Prompt" not to the letter.

“You should clock out soon, boss.”

“Yeah yeah, Paul. Soon, okay?” Tord yawned, long and slow, and felt his eye twitch. A burning, itchy, irritating feeling started to make itself known as he did so. He blinked a few times and winced at how dry his eye felt, he switched his pen into his right hand to continue writing, while his left hand reached up and rubbed at his eye. Another yawn escaped him at the action, he felt his left leg start bouncing as his body began to stretch out, his joints popped as he flexed, making him let out a pleased groan as the stiffness within him began to abate.

His eye still felt like it was stinging though.

“Paul, could you get my eyedrops at the table over there??” Tord gathered the files on the table into his hands, he tapped them against the surface to get them all aligned before he turned to his desk drawer to deposit them. Rows of different work files greeted the weary military commander, some tagged with small red stickers to indicate that they still needed his attention, all in varying shades depending on their urgency.

He felt a small twinge in his heart when he remembered the day Tom had come into his office with a pad full of the stickers.

“You’re overwhelming yourself, idiot. Step aside, I’m fixing your shit.”

He put up a half-hearted protest that day, not really meaning it, just wanting an excuse to mope and lean against his beloved to whine to his heart’s content. Usually, if he was being bitchy enough about it, Tom would acquiesce and coddle him a little, as much as he was allowed to in public at least, and Tord would never say no to his husband spoiling him with a few stolen kisses.

He felt another pang in his heart at that, knowing how Tom would have made it home by now if Paul was telling him to clock out. This would be…what, his fourth time working late? No doubt his husband was already asleep. Still, the thought of Tom having to eat dinner alone again made his stomach twist guiltily, sour in the way it felt.

Still….he’d been pushing work back so much recently, and it was starting to pile up and cause minor problems to arise in his army, it may not look like much now, but too many of them will become a much bigger problem all together.

…was he really prioritizing work over his own husband?

Tord bit down on his lower lip at the thought, a tangy, metallic taste seeped onto his tongue.

He shook his head.

He set the files he had to the very back where most finished paperwork was, which wasn’t much compared to those incomplete. He sighed deeply to himself and clicked his tongue when he felt his eye sting yet again, his hand ghosted over the files with light pink stickers before settling for those with dark red ones. He frowned as he rubbed at his sore eye again.

“Paul?? Eyedrops please…” He held his right hand out to the direction he knew his General was seated at. Paul and he had decided to do some of the accounting work today, which was the result of an unfortunate case of the flu spreading to almost everyone in their accounting department. He had been beside himself when he caught wind of a significant number of their employees requesting sick leave, it had been such a headache to deal with at the start.

Of course, he had some words with patient zero, the whole point of being sick was to not report to work at all! He wasn’t running a sweat shop! He preferred quality work over quantity, and paperwork that had blotchy writing and traces of snot and drool was not quality.

Needless to say, patient zero- and all their unfortunate victims- were on paid sick leave until further notice. ‘Do not come to work’ was a highly stressed point, especially to patient zero.

Paul and he trudged through all the work they left behind, with Paul taking refuge at his tea table while he camped out at his work desk. Paul had been somewhat annoying about it though, always complaining about how his back hurt, or how his hands were cramping, or how stupid it was they didn’t think to invent tech that made paperwork easier, or how its unethical of him to withhold lunch until the paperwork was done bla bla bla…….

Tord just learned to tune him out.

……..Wait…..Why can’t Tord hear him complaining?

“Paul???” Tord finally looked up from his desk drawer, three new files with bright red stickers clutched in his hand, he blinked in surprise at the darkness of his own office, half the room’s lights had been switched off. His brows furrowed together as he looked over to where his tea table was stationed at to his right. Now shadowed in darkness.

There he saw Paul’s own mountain of files stacked precariously on top of each other, papers jutted out haphazardly while a multitude of paperclips kept them all from falling apart. He spotted the plastic cup of used pens that Paul had begun to collect, after the first three had run out of ink mid-way through his work pile, which had looked to be overflowing with much too many pens at this point.

Paul’s thermos- which had been delivered by Patryck- was still sitting idle on top of the tea table next to his paper pile, alongside his calculator and reference papers of past accounting records. His service dress cap was still hanging on the edge of his chair, dangling precariously over the wastebin he had moved to his side, after a number of errors had him throwing out a few of his papers in frustration, as it had meant he would have to redo them- and their calculations- again.

But, amongst all of these items, there was no sign of Paul himself.

Tord frowned, feeling a smatter of disbelief that one of his Generals would just suddenly leave his station without excusing himself. He scoffed with a slight bout of irritation as he fell back on his chair, uncaringly dropping the files he held onto his work desk as he combed his fingers through his own hair. The nerve of that man!

Had he been too lenient with Paul?? With Patryck? Sure they were friends, but during work hours he was their boss, not to mention their superior officer, and this right here was a blatant disrespect for the chain of command.

Maybe he needs to have a talk with his staff soon, about duty and respect, maybe.

Paul had just told him to clock out, when the hell did he leave??

….What time was it?

Tord let his head loll to the side, he clicked his tongue in irritation when he realized that the grandfather clock in his office was in the shaded part of it. He squinted his eyes at the confounded thing before he gave up entirely. Why the hell does he still even have analog stuff??

….ah, yeah, aesthetics……

With a tired sigh, Tord turned to his right arm and removed the glove covering it, a glint of metallic red greeted him along with a soft blue glow of lights. He pressed down on the middle of his palm until he heard a click.

“Time?” He blew out as he rubbed at his temple with his free hand.

“It is 2:09 a.m. Red Leader.”

Two o’- What?!

Tord sat up at that, he spun his chair partway around to look at his grand arch window behind him. Outside of RA HQ, he could see a few of the night watch already stationed at their towers, the cold blue of the floodlights on top of the towers shining brightly up ahead at the farthermost territory of their HQ. He spotted the shadows of the night shift Red Sentries zipping across the surrounding forests, sometimes hovering over to the watchtowers to deposit their camera footage to the database before zooming off again.

A wanning gibbous moon shone high in the sky.

Christ, he didn’t realize how long he had been working for.

Paul often clocked out around 11 p.m. at the latest, so that means….Paul had told him to clock out 3 hours ago?!

But- But he just heard him say that!

Oh hell….maybe he really does need to leave this work well alone for now, his sense of time is starting to get all screwy….

….Fuck….he was a hypocrite, he’s patient zero now. Poor Paul was patient one, he supposed. Though, at least Paul had sense to still keep a somewhat decent time. He always did say that Tord’s work-life balance was-

…..Shit.

Thomas.

His husband. His poor husband who he hasn’t even been paying any attention to this week. His poor husband who he left all alone this week because he never came home on time anymore. His poor beloved who would have been eating all his meals alone because Tord decided that neglecting his health- and love life- was worth it to finish a budget record.

Oh my god…..he’s becoming a workaholic asshole. An absent husband!!

Dread began to build up in Tord’s chest as his thoughts began to spiral.

What if Thomas thought he didn’t love him anymore?? He wasn’t able to tell him he loved him this week!

Or worse! What if Thomas was falling into a state of anagapesis?! Falling out of love with him because he’s been a neglectful, unloving, asshole of a husband!!

“I hope you and your literal work wife are happy together.”

Tord felt himself blanch as the blood began to drain from his face. An unwanted image of his husband, of his dear sweet Thomas, dabbing a handkerchief to his eyes as tears fell down his cheeks. Imaginary Thomas continued to sob as he slammed a piece of paper onto his desk, still weeping heavily into the white lacy handkerchief he kept to his face.

Tord looked down at the paper on his desk in sheer horror.

Divorce papers.

“I’m leaving you for a real man, Tord Larsin!”

Tord looked back up at imaginary Thomas in front of his desk, only to stand up in shock as a faceless man holding a crudely made instrument had pulled his husband to his side. Imaginary Thomas wept into his shoulder before glaring back at him, causing Tord to physically flinch.

“Hello!” The faceless man greeted cheerily with a wave. “Yes I am a real man!”

“He plays the bass, actually LIKES ska, has a normal job at a coffee shop, and thinks anime is super weird!” Imaginary Thomas huffed and hugged himself closer to the homewrecker. “And he actually pays attention to me and LOVES me! Unlike YOU!” Imaginary Tom sniffled before the faceless man began to turn them both away.

“Okay honey say bye bye now! Let us go to our real people home and have many children!”

Imaginary Tom looked back at him, glaring balefully.

“Goodbye, Larsin.”

Tord let out a horrified shriek, thankfully unheard due to his soundproofed office.

NO FUCKING WAY WAS THAT EVER GOING TO HAPPEN!!!

He bolted over his work desk, uncaring of the paperwork that was sent flying in every which way, as he burst out of his own office with all the aggressive force of a charging bull and the desperation of a damned man running from the devil himself.

‘DON’T LEAVE ME FOR A BARISTA, THOMAS!!!!’

Should he be concerned that he had just had a vivid and active hallucination?

Well yes.

But that wasn’t his main concern at the moment, plus, he was much too sleep deprived to be thinking straight anyway. Ah, such is life, and love, supposedly.

Tord ran down the hall, his vision tunneling and his train of thought chugging along on just one, heavily walled, and extremely magnetized, track. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest as thoughts of his beloved husband visiting a coffee shop was starting to form into an irrational fear, the back of his thoughts were already thinking up of ways to get his Thomas quality coffee that was so goddamned good he would never even want to set foot in some whore coffee shop!

Thomas was his, his, HIS!

NO FUCKING BASS PLAYING BARISTA WAS GOING TO TAKE HIM FROM HIM.

LIKE HELL!!

….

….Though…would Tom be happier with a bass playing barista??

All at once, Tord found himself skidding to an abrupt halt, his boots squeaked loudly at his sudden cease of motion, the momentum nearly making him fall flat to his face if he hadn’t caught himself on time.

Tord clasped his hands together, his eye staring at nothing as he began to think deeper about- a frankly goofy- the situation. He wasn’t sure if it was the sleep deprivation, but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if he even deserved his beloved at this point, seeing as he spent a week practically acting as though Thomas didn’t even exist.

If he could stand to ignore his husband for a week in favor of accounting, what if he could do it for a month?? A year?? Hell YEARS?!

That didn’t sound like love.

What if Tom would be happy with barista bass player real man??

Tord’s overworked, over exhausted, and sleep deprived mind ran around him in circles.

He felt himself began to tear up.

Oh GOD, after he had promised his Thomas on the day they were married, after he had promised him he was a changed man, that he was going to be better, that he well and truly loved him, that he was so sorry for all the years and all the times he had made him cry, how he was so so sorry for ruining their lives when he left him behind, how he- Huh, wait why is Thomas’ office lights still on??

Tord blinked rapidly, coming back to himself as quick as his spiraling mind could allow. He straightened himself up and tilted his head at the sight before him.

Up ahead, at the end of the hall opposite of his own office, the doors to his beloved’s office were opened just a crack, letting the warm light from within spill out into the semi-shadowed hallway he was standing in. Thomas was never one to leave his lights on when he had gone home, even more so keep his doors open, his husband had always liked his privacy, so his office doors were always closed to everyone but Tord, as he also had a key to it anyway.

Frowning, Tord slowly approached the office doors, his hand carefully inched down to the pistol holster at his side, just in case.

Once he reached the dark wood double doors, Tord carefully pushed one of them open just a little more. He evened out his breathing as he took a peek into the office, because if some intruder thought they could just waltz into his beloved’s space, well, they would wish that they hadn’t.

Part of him hoped it was a bass playing barista, somehow.

What he saw however, instantly melted any of his aggression away.

There, reclined on his chair and sleeping soundly, was his beloved husband, Tom.

Tord felt himself smile softly as he fully opened the door, careful not to make any sound as he stepped into the room.

Thomas’ office was much smaller than his own, which was really just at the behest of his beloved. Tom claimed that he didn’t even know what he’d do with so much space, seeing as most of his duties and operations were focused on field work more than anything, and when he had no active operations, he’d spend more time in Tord’s office to help him handle logistics at HQ. So really, even having his own office didn’t seem all too practical anyway.

Which Tord swiftly dismissed, saying that he had to have a place where he could posture his authority, seeing as he was a Lieutenant General of the RA (and unofficially its Army Director). Plus….well, they could use the extra space for other things….

Tom had slapped him on the arm for suggesting that, calling him a ‘depraved weaboo’ for even thinking about it.

Well, what does that say about him? When he let Tord bring a couch that could convert into a bed into his office without a single word?

Yeah, Tom needed his own office. For sure. Not for any ulterior reason of course. Like he said, it was to posture authority. Yep.

Tord passed by the couch and gave it a fond pat as he did so.

He circled Tom’s desk and immediately made his way to his beloved’s side, his gaze softened as he leaned down to get closer to his husband. Tord chuckled as he brushed at the stray lock of hair that refused to be gelled out of Tom’s face like the rest of them, his husband was annoyed by it but Tord thought it was cute.

He sighed as he cupped the side of Tom’s face, but the smile on his own dropped when he noticed the blinking lights on Tom’s visor.

Was….was Tom in subcon-command?!

HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?!

“Kjaerlighet!” Tord took his husband’s face in his hands, lightly slapping at his left cheek as his right hand took in his vitals. “Kjaerlighet!! Tom!! Thomas!!” His right arm beeped and gave him a readout of Tom’s vitals through a holo-screen. Tord’s eye snapped to the data, quickly taking in the status of his idiot husband, thankfully nothing seemed to be amiss aside from the usual high brain activity that came from being in sub-com.

Tord blew out a frustrated breath and turned back to his still dozing husband, he pressed a finger from his robotic hand to the side of Tom’s visor. The action caused Tom’s head to roll a little to the side, causing the other to mumble something Tord didn’t hear, but it did make him smile in exasperation. “R.L. OV3 3447-Alpha.” A series of robotic chirps responded to his code, accepting his override access. Tord placed his free hand to the other side of Tom’s head as he prepared to remove the visor from his husband.

“39-Lima-550-“

“TT3 SL-Delta.”

“YEAOW!” Tord reeled back, shaking both his hands, as a controlled shocked coursed up his arms. The fingers on his robotic arm spasmed and whined, while his flesh hand smoked due to his glove still being on when he had been electrocuted. He huffed and bit at the singed finger of his white glove, he pulled it off his hand and let it fall to the ground before turning an incredulous, wide-eyed look, at Tom. Who, at this point, had reset his chair so he could sit upright, his arms had crossed as he looked at Tord.

“Kjaerlighet!” Tord meant for it to be scolding, but instead it came out as a whine when Tom tilted his head at him. God help him. He was so weak to his husband. “What was that for?! I know you were subcomming! You know how dangerous that feature is! Didn’t I tell you not to do it without me, Bing, or Larry present?!”

“I don’t need babysitting, Tord. I know what I was doing.” Tom sighed as he propped an arm against the desk beside him, he leaned his head against his palm. “Besides, I wasn’t sub-com for that long, it’s only been a quarter of an hour actually.”

“Still!” Tord strode forward once his robotic hand stopped twitching, he knelt in front of his husband as Tom let him take his free hand into his own. “You know how I feel about you doing these things, kjaere. The sub-com system is still experimental, the mental stress it causes you is too much.” He brought his husband’s hand to his lips, just pressing against it, mumbling into the skin. “I’m scared that something could happen to you…while I’m not there…”

“Tord….” Tom squirmed on his seat as he looked down at his husband. He had wanted to deflect, sometimes Tord was just too overbearing, too overprotective of him, but it was difficult when Tord was being vulnerable with him. Sure, his husband was a paranoid bastard, but it was born from years of his time at war with the rest of the world, born from his fear of…well….losing him.

Its so unfair, it used to be so easy to jab back at his husband.

…Maybe he really was getting old, hell….

Tom sighed and took his hand back from Tord, the split second look of heartbreak on the other’s face quickly disappearing once he settled his hand to the side of Tord’s face. “Elskede, look, I really did know what I was doing, but I didn’t mean to scare you like this. I was only trying to oversee the night watch while you were still at work, and I just…” As if on cue, Tom yawned into his other hand, “I just..got tired…is all. I thought I could let my body rest while still overseeing night watch, which, ugh, wasn’t even worth it. I still feel like shit….”

“Well, why are you even here, kjaere??”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tom gestured at him from top to bottom with his free hand. “You, Tord. You’ve been overworking lately, Paul has been complaining about your hours instead of his own. Patryck is becoming concerned with your mental state, he says you’ve been jumpier than usual.”

Tord felt his heart sting when Tom let out another yawn.

Patient two. His husband was patient two.

As if he didn’t feel bad enough about neglecting his love….now he dragged him into this.

“God, fifteen minutes sub-com but not even that made me feel rested.”

Swallowing his guilt, Tord chuckled, albeit shakily. “Your brain activity is insanely high when you sub-com, Thomas.” Tord rested his hand on top of Tom’s own on his cheek as he looked up at him. “Of course you would still be tired, Bing didn’t invent it for napping while working purposes you know?” He chuckled again as Tom huffed. “It’s an emergency feature, in case someone manages to knock you out in the field, so you can take control of the remote weaponry to defend yourself.”

“Yeah yeah, couldn’t hurt to try though, right?”

“Thomas you could have fried your brain, it would have hurt to try.”

“You’d never let me get hurt like that though.”

Tom meant it to be teasing, but Tord only smiled up at him, adoration plain on his face as he leaned up into his husband’s space. Tom was caught off guard when Tord suddenly went in for a kiss, pushing him back against his chair in the process as his husband moved to deepen it. It wasn’t even much of a dirty kiss, it simply felt as though Tord was trying to press as close as he could, still, by the end of it, Tom felt a little lightheaded as Tord pulled back, he was a little ashamed to admit that he chased the other’s lips when he did.

Tord rested their foreheads together and caressed the side of his face, still smiling.

“Never. I would never let anything hurt you, my love.”

Tom’s heart skipped a beat at the tone of his voice. He felt his face heat up. Stupid Norwegian and his stupid declarations of love…

“Yeah, well…cool, I guess…” Tom had turned his head to the side as his embarrassment reached a new high. Even after all these years, he still wasn’t sure how to respond to Tord’s earnestness, he felt really shitty for it, but Tord had always reassured him that he knew that he loved him, because of course his husband would. Tord just seems to know the things Tom could never say outright.

He glanced back at his husband, though he didn’t move his head back.

And found Tord looking absolutely shattered.

…huh???

(Well, maybe SOMETIMES he doesn’t know the things Tom could never say outright.)

“Tord-?”

“I am so sorry, kjaerlighet.” Tom ‘blinked’ in surprise, the visuals in his visor glitching out in response to his emotional state. He furrowed his brows and squeaked when Tord suddenly took both his hands and clasped them together within his own. The Norwegian leaned further into his face, disappointingly not for another kiss, causing his chair to lean backwards into a dangerous position.

“Aye-! Hey! Tord you’ll make us fall-!”

“Please please PLEASE forgive me my love!!” Tord wailed as he continued to lean into Tom’s space. “I didn’t mean to neglect you this week!! I didn’t mean to be such an asshole!! PLEASE forgive me kjaerlighet!”

“Hey! Shh! Tord! We’re in public! Don’t be so loud!! Don’t call me that!”

Tom switched his visor into his command screens and immediately selected the base cameras. He flicked through the cams until he found the main HQ building cameras, more specifically the ones that were stationed outside his office as well as the general area radius of Tord’s own office. Thankfully, none of the staff had decided to hang back like the two of them had, even maintenance had made themselves scarce. And what night guards they had wouldn’t make their rounds here until after 3 a.m. so for now they were in the clear.

He sighed in relief and relegated the cams footage to the lower right corner side of his visor screen.

Only to come face to face with a teary eyed looking Tord who took up his entire vision.

“Bwah! Tord-!”

“I AM SO SORRY, THOMAS!!” Tom instantly found himself gathered up into his husband’s arms and out of his office chair. He wheezed and choked as Tord squeezed him close as he sobbed. “PLEASE PLEASE P L E A S E DON’T LEAVE ME! MY LOVE I AM SO SORRY FOR NEGLECTING YOU!! PLEASE LET ME STILL CALL YOU MY LOVE!! PLEASE!! YOU ARE STILL MY KJAERLIGHET RIGHT?!”

“To-AUGH!- ORD!!” Tom gasped out as he pushed against his husband’s hold. “Not…the….point!!” He managed to put a little bit of space between them, his legs kicking uselessly below him the moment Tord lifted him up. He glared down at his stupid idiot of a husband who only returned a kicked puppy look at him, Tom took in a deep breath and internally braced himself against Tord’s pleading look. He is not THAT weak to his husband. He is not THAT weak to his husband. He is not THAT weak to his husband-

“We’re in public idiot!” Tom slapped him lightly on the chest. “I was okay with it when your voice was low, but you are screaming it out now!”

“The offices are soundproof!”

“YOU DENSE-! My doors are open, Tord!!”

Tom gestured stiffly at the double doors which Tord had failed to shut closed when he first came in. Tord looked over to the side, he thinned his lips.

“…Ah…..”

“Yeah, ‘Ah’. God you’re daft when you don’t get enough sleep..” Tom pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “For your information, before you start panicking, I checked the cams. No staff. No maintenance. Night guards won’t make their rounds here till three.” Tom huffed when Tord pulled his wide eyed gaze away from the open doors.

Tom hooked his fingers under Tord’s chin, gently coaxing the man to look up at him. “Hey, eyes on me.” He sighed at the look on his husband’s face, most likely he was just starting to realize the danger he could have put them into now that he seemed to be thinking straight. Tom cooed at him, gently brushing at the hair that fell over the scarred side of his face.

“Elskede, we’re alright, be calm.” He pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m here.” He kissed his cheek. “You’re here.” He kissed the scarred side of his face. “There’s no one else but us.” Tord shut his eye in response, allowing Tom to kiss his eyelid as his husband hugged him closer, leaning his ear against his chest. Tom carded his fingers through his hair. “What can you hear?”

“….Your heart…”

“And why is that?”

“…Because we’re here….because you’re mine…”

“And you are mine.” Tom finished as he felt Tord begin to relax. His husband shifted his hold on him, carrying him bridal style but still refusing to relax his grip, burying his face into his neck as he breathed in slow. Tom laughed lightly at the action, continuing his previous ministrations on Tord’s hair. “..What’s this about neglect Tord? What brought this on??”

“…….” Tord sniffled against his skin. Tom had to stop himself from chuckling. His husband could just be so goofy at times, he really had to talk to him about his habit of scaring himself with his own thoughts, or better yet, maybe he should talk to his therapist about his husband’s self-destructive habit. “….I wasn’t….around…”

“I’m sorry love?”

“I haven’t….I haven’t been good to you…”

Now it was Tom’s turn to feel incredulous, he sent a baffled look his husband’s way, but Tord was still hiding his face against his neck so he wouldn’t be able to see it. “You haven’t-? In what way have you not been good to me?”

“I neglected you this week!” Tord admitted into his skin, with just so much genuine panic it almost sent Tom reeling. “I prioritized my work over my husband! I brushed you off!! I was being an absentee asshole and now you’re going to fall out of love with me and- and you’ll go to a coffee shop because I haven’t found any good coffee yet and you’ll meet a barista and he plays bass and makes you laugh and then you’ll divorcemebecauseyoudontlovemeandthenyou’llmarrybassbaristaandhavekidswithhimandI’MgonnadiealoneBECAUSEI’LLNEVERLOVEANYONEELSEBUTYOU-“

“Hey hey hey! Tord breathe! What??? Coffee shop?? Bass barista????? Darling what are you talking about????”

“I left you all on your OWN for an ENTIRE WEEK!” Tord looked up at his face, the sheer anguish on his face more comical than not to Tom who was starting to find the whole situation too outlandish to take seriously. “I don’t even say ‘I love you’ that much anymore!!”

Tom looked down at his husband, his mouth partway open in disbelief and shock. He floundered a bit, before he gave up and let his head fall into his hands. “Oh my god….Tord Larsin, never EVER try to burn the midnight oil for multiple days, ever again starting now.” He felt his own exhaustion start creeping into his bones, he let himself go limp as he leaned against his husband’s chest. “You and I are not as young as we used to be, at this point, if you try to even stay up past 8 p.m., I’m pretty sure you’ll start getting brain damage.”

“But- kjaere- the barista.”

“Tord.” Tom gritted out, instantly making Tord shut his mouth. “You’re delirious, you haven’t been sleeping well. You just made up a wacky arse scenario that is never going to happen.” Tom tiredly pulled at his left glove, he tucked it into his pocket and brought his hand up to Tord’s face. “See that ring? I married you you dense motherfucker, and god knows why I fell in love with you this hard,” He let his hand fall on top of his abdomen once he was sure he got his point across. “Fact of the matter is, commie, I’m not going anywhere. I’m just so disgustingly in love with you for some reason I can’t even explain.”

Tom nuzzled himself closer to his husband, who had gone unnaturally still. “So shut up already about this barista or whatever and just take me home….I’m tired, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to collapse so remember,” Tom lifted his head to stare into Tord’s eye, only smirking when he saw how red in the face his husband had become. “I love you, that isn’t changing any time soon. Okay?”

Tord only stared at him silently for a moment, before he leaned down, lifting Tom’s head up in tandem, and capturing his lips in a deep, swooping kiss, pouring every ounce of love and adoration he could muster for the man in his arms. The man he had been so lucky to have a chance to keep for himself, to hold close and listen to his heart, to keep by his side for the rest of his life. Someone who could love him for all his flaws, had seen his worst, and still decided that he saw something beautiful in him.

His kjaerlighet.

“I love you, so so much….”

“I love you too. Could we please go home now?”

Tord laughed quietly, subtly adjusting his grip once more before moving to exit the office. “Go to sleep, kjaere.” He pressed their foreheads together as they passed the threshold of the doors. “I’ll get us home safe. I promise nothing will hurt you.”

Tom smiled as he settled in Tord’s arms.

“I know.”

////

GET PERCIEVED YOU LOVESTRUCK IDIOT

#tomtord #tordtom #eddsworld fanfiction #ew Stay AU #didn't go the way I wanted but then again #they have their own personalities #SLKDFJ #ew Stay AU writings #soz if there's some typos #I did this in a rush

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holylulusworld · 1 year

Text

Big grump

Summary: Sam and Dean reconsider their relationships.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Square 24 filled for Lulu’s X-Mas Bingo: Square 24: Love confessions

Square 20 filled for Lulu’s Winter Bingo: Square 20: Love confessions

Square 2 filled for @spnfluffbingo: Old flame au

Square 2 filled for @spnchristmasbingo: Photographs

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of former relationships/break-ups, fluff

Words: 1,1 k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

“Dean, stop being a grump,” Sam grumbles. “I know you’re not a big fan of Christmas and parties, but this is getting ridiculous. You’re a grown-ass man acting like an angry child.”

“I just don’t know what to celebrate this year.”

“We had a very successful year. You’re healthy, got a loving family and you still can get your dick up,” the younger brother grins.

“What do you know about my dick?” Dean grumbles. “I never told you about my qualities in the bedroom.”

“Well, the stream of grinning ladies leaving your house tells me all I need to know.”

Dean huffs.

“So, why the bad mood? I thought you wanted to bring Lisa to mom’s infamous Christmas party. At least that’s what she told Amelia.”

“Lisa and I didn’t work out,” the elder brother shrugs.

“Dude, what happened? Not weeks ago, you wanted to move in with her,” Sam gasps at the news. “Did you mess things up? What did you do this time?”

“She wants to try with her ex again,” Dean looks around the large ballroom. “I tried to not mess things up with Lisa and then she goes and breaks up with me not four weeks before Christmas.”

“Fuck, that’s just awful. I’m sorry Dean,” patting his brother’s shoulder Sam sighs. “Do you want me to ask Amelia for her friend’s number? You know the cute redhead you liked so much.”

“No. I don’t want a date for mom’s party. If things didn’t work out between me and Lisa it would’ve been fine with me. But this is just…”

Dean sighs deeply.

“I feel ya man,” Sam nods in understanding. “Do you remember Ruby? The quirky brunette I brought home four or five years ago. She gave me the boot for her ex too. Never heard of her again.”

“Sex with the ex can be fun,” Dean grins. “Did it a few times before too. I just don’t get why they have to try again with their ex while being in a relationship with someone else.”

“I got no clue, Dean.”

The brothers watch the staff twirl around the ballroom to make sure the party will be even better than the last one.

Both men sigh as they think about their past relationships. In not three days they must attend the party but none of them seems to be in the mood.

“Maybe there are things left unsaid and done that won’t let you move on,” Dean wonders aloud.

“I get it... I guess. Don’t get me wrong. Amelia is great but…” Sam clears his throat, “there was something about Ruby making me go crazy. It was the wildest and most animalistic sex. We just clicked on a primal level.”

“Animalistic, huh?” Dean chuckles.

“It wasn’t just sex, Dean. We had a deep connection. I miss the mind-blowing and crazy sex, though. Ruby scratched and bit me. Sometimes she even threw things around the room and jumped at me. Ruby was…she slapped my face, and I held her down…”

Holding up his hand Dean makes a retching noise. “DUDE, too much information,” he mutters. “I really didn’t need to hear about your kinks.”

Sam laughs. “…says the man destroying a bedroom and christening mom’s kitchen counter with Y/N.”

Dean swallows thickly. He hasn’t heard your name for the better of three years.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he says after a moment of silence. “She was a little drunk and one thing led to another.”

“Why did you break up with her again?” Sam dips his head to glance at his brother. “Everyone saw her walk down the aisle to marry you. I never understand you let her go.”

“She wanted one thing, and I was…”

“An idiot?”

“A big grump,” Dean mutters. “That’s what she called me the last time we talked. Y/N wanted me to open up and talk about my feelings. I just couldn’t and then I said something stupid. Y/N told me that she doesn’t want to waste her love and more time on a man ignoring her feelings and I said…”

Dean shakes his head.

“What did you say, Dean?” Sam presses on.

“I said she should stop waiting then…”

“I was right. You were an idiot. Dean, you should call Y/N and tell her you were in the wrong.”

“Who’s in a relationship with a woman he doesn’t want to fuck?” Dean sneers. “If you break up with Amelia and call Ruby, I’ll call Y/N and invite her to mom’s Christmas party.”

Sam stares at his brother. Dean holds his brother’s gaze, challenging him.

“Fine.”

“What?” Dean splutters. His eyes grow wide as his brother gets his phone out.

“I’ll break up with Amelia and call Ruby. Maybe she still has those handcuffs and the riding crop,” Sam bites his lower lip. “That was a night to remember…”

“Wait! What? I was just joking!” he calls after his brother.

“A deal is a deal, Dean. Go and call Y/N…”

“Dean Winchester in all his glory,” you cross your arms over your chest as your former lover stands right in front of you. He mumbles something under his breath, eyes cast down. “I didn’t get that. Why are you here?”

“I-uh,” he shrugs. “Mom is planning this huge Christmas party. You know how much I hate parties. It’s in three days and...”

“I remember…”

“I was wondering if you would give me the honor to come with me,” he scratches the back of his neck. A nervous habit.

“Why would I do such a thing?” you huff. “It’s been almost three years since I last saw you. We are not a pair anymore, Dean.”

“I was a fool and scared back then,” Dean steps a little closer. “I chickened out and you left me.”

“I did not leave you, Dean,” pointing your index finger at him you raise your voice. “You broke up with me. It was you telling me I should stop waiting for you to admit your feelings.”

“It was just a suggestion,” he argues. “You never wanted to see me again.”

“Now it’s all my fault? Are you fucking kidding me, Winchester?” you get louder, drawing your neighbors’ attention. “Why should I even consider talking to you?”

He takes a deep breath. “I love you. I should’ve told you so years ago. No, the moment we met,” he says. “I still got that old photograph of you. It’s the first one I took of you. If only I could turn back time and admit my feelings three years ago.”

“I looked awful. My hair was a mess and I didn’t wear make-up,” you clear your throat. “Why did you never call?”

“I was scared. You know how I get when someone rejects me,” he whispers. “Can I—come in? Maybe we can talk for a while. Please.”

“I wanted to have a beer and ordered pizza,” you glance at Dean. “Do you want to come in? I was about to put up my Christmas tree and could need help.”

“I-of course sweetheart. I’ll help you with pleasure…”

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x you #spnchristmasbingo #spnfluffbingo #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester x reader #lulu's winter bingo #lulu's xmas bingo

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santheinfluencer · 2 years

Text

Just Business

Pairings~ Park Jimin x Black Reader

Summary~ You both are under the same agency and are very professional with your assassination attempts. However, experience is key...

Genre(s)~ Suspense, Angst, (not-so) Friends to Lovers

Word Count~ (???)

The field you specialized in wasn’t much to be proud of; in fact, it wasn’t to even be spoken of. You’ve been an assassin for nearly three years now and never have you failed in carrying out an attempt.

Despite you not having a permanent partner, you weren’t exempted from working with others in your agency.

However, working with Jimin was a job itself.

“You’ve been assigned to Park again y/l/n. Just be sure to get the job done and report back alive.”

You kissed your teeth as your boss “Karasuma” only gave you a hand signal to leave; in which you ignored.

You shifted in the seat in front of the male before fixing the long dark trench coat that covered your high slit dress. Working with Park was the last thing you wanted.

“Give me someone else Karasuma, Park’s ego is bigger than his own size. We’ll never accomplish what we need to do.” The older male rolled his eyes before shifting to his filing cabinet. He proceeds to put out a thick manila folder with loose sheets of paper nearly falling from the folds.

“Whether you like him or not, the guy’s got the skill and performance needed to be an assassin...he’s looked death in the eyes and completes every job we need.” You flipped through each page with each having more words than the last. He was good, and even has his own trademark in the assassin world.

You sighed deeply before making your way out of the office.

Your dark stiletto heels clicked against the light marble floors as you made your way outside to the light snow accompanied by a stale breeze that sat in the air.

You once again pulled at your long coat to cover your revealing skin. The early December snowfall seemed too calming for the chaotic night ahead.

“A little much for tonight?” You turned to raven haired male before rolling your eyes and walking to the cold metal bench just outside the agency.

“Karasuma sent a car for us. Just wait here and don’t piss me off too much...the night is still young.” The male followed and swiftly had a set next to you.

“You know, you don’t have to keep acting like you hate me y/l/n...” You silently fixed your dark straight hair as your fingers combed through the small snowflakes.

“Who said I was acting, Park?”

Before he could speak, the male was interrupted by the silver bullet-like appearance from the corners of y’all eyes.

The BMW sat perfectly in the snow as the window rolled down to reveal Seo in the drivers’ seat.

“Karasuma sent me, lets hurry before the job goes unfinished.” You both spared no time and got in quick. You both had worked with Seo on different occasions, so you were more than positive that this job would run smoothly.

The issue...he was a lot like Jimin.

Cocky little shit who was surprisingly on the higher-ranking side of the chart. He always got the job done, nevertheless. It agitated you how they were very annoying, yet always reliable.

The drive across the city wasn’t too bad. A bit out of the way, but for a gala you expected nothing less. Changbin wasted no time getting you and Jimin to the gala, one of the best qualities about having a reliable getaway. However, sometimes he was too reckless in blowing your cover and that getting everyone caught.

“Wait around the back Seo, this should take an hour at most.” He nodded swiftly and soon pulled away as soon as you and Jimin made it inside.

The building was blinding with lights as the sweet scents of perfumes and colognes filled the air. Men who smoked swishers occupied the gambling tables as the women who preferred to talk with friends sat at the tables having wine served.

This was a rather busy night.

“Remember your position?” The male nodded as he activated the small earpiece and made his way to the gambling table. You did the same, but instead immediately went to the bar.

You were looking for a Caucasian male. Dark wavy hair with green/hazel eyes, a beard, and standing at nearly 6′0. Shouldn’t be too hard to spot.

“Excuse me, one whiskey on the rocks.” The bartender nodded before pouring the drink in front of you. Jimin on the other hand delt himself in on the next game. You couldn’t lie, he blended in perfectly with the others.

“Park, I think I’ve got eyes on our target.”

Your voice was low to avoid any extra ears. Just like you thought, the male wasn’t too hard to spot.

“You know what to do y/l/n, make this quick.” As if heard, the male gazed towards you with his lighter eyes and playfully smirked at you. You bat your perfectly smoked eyes and fix your straight dark hair once again. This won’t take long.

The small crowd of people were soon parted to reveal “Duncan” your target for this evening.

“It’s very lively here tonight; don’t you think? Why is a beautiful lady like you sitting at this bar alone?” You chuckled lightly before signaling the bartender for another drink. “Sometimes it’s good to get out...just here to have some fun.”

Through your earpiece, you could hear Jimin sigh deeply.

“Get on with it...”

You clear your throat before swiftly putting your hand on Duncan’s. “I booked a suit for the evening, care to join me?” He didn’t think twice before helping you to your feet and let you lead the way and followed behind.

“We’re on the move, Park.”

Meanwhile, Jimin was in a bet with an older male and has won nearly 3k so far. In fact, another fight would be starting soon, and it would be time to start the betting.

“You remind me of when I was younger...Daniel was it?”

A fake name never fails...

One of the boxers on the vast screen strikes first nearly taking the other out immediately. Jimin however, could care less about the money or even the bet. Truthfully, it’s about completing the task and leaving with his partner safely.

Jimin locks eyes with the older man before nodding fondly and sipping the sweet alcohol.

“Is that right? How come?” The older man chuckled as he fixed his coat before lighting the thick cigar that hung from his lips.

“Fine evening like this...these gambling spots always gave me an escape from the reality of my life.” Jimin eyed the man carefully. No matter how friendly or understanding one may come off, don’t trust them.

“You see, I grew up broke...abusive mother, absent father...you already know the average sob story.” He blew out his smoke before continuing. “But I always loved making money...whether it was through back-alley gambling, stealing, murder...I was going to get said money.”

Jimin felt the hairs on his neck touch the sky when he realized what was happening.

A set up.

The male calmly yet slowly put his hand over the gun tucked in his slacks. Nothing like a good old shoot out to finish the night.

“I was killing people left and right Daniel; or should I say, “Park”. Nothing I hate more than you blood sucking mosquitoes that waltz in here to assassinate what’s not your business.” His words felt like poison as the older man, as quickly as Jimin, both pull out their guns.

Everyone is silent before Jimin pulls the trigger and declared the first shot.

It didn’t take long before Jimin was covered by a flipped table, applying pressure to a flesh wound, and dodging flying bullets.

“Anytime now y/l/n!!”

Meanwhile you both were minutes into a deep make out session on the room’s loveseat. Your coat was long gone as your dark strapless dress made its appearance for the night.

Your long jet-black hair fell over your shoulders as you instantly went on your knees for the man in front of you.

“You just made my night so much better...I almost forgot to ask for your name” You paused before carefully slowly reaching for your gun.

“You don’t need to know that.”

You quickly fired before the mail could react, not even bothering to clean the now bloodstained seat and walls. It didn’t take long for you to throw on your coat and join Jimin in the main lobby to make your escape after a successful evening.

There were two men just at the end of the hall whom you’ve taken out with ease. A few minutes later a few were coming up the stairs looking for Duncan’s remains.

Killed.

All you had to do now was spot Jimin.

“Park?”

It took a moment for the shots to die down before you hear the male panting from the extra movement and anxiety within his system.

“I’m here, get closer to the door so we can signal Seo to take us out.”

You moved quickly across the velvet carpet and behind a podium to where your head was nearly taken out by stray bullets. Unfortunately for the hit Patron, it was all over the bar counter.

Jimin spotted you before taking out the rest of the armed men as you got closer and closer to the exit.

“Don’t wait! Go outside to Seo!”

You nodded before completely jetting from the huge double doors and out to Changbin who was prepared to complete this mission for good.

It took a few more seconds before Jimin was right behind you and into the vehicle that was doing well over sixty miles per hour in seconds.

Seo spotted you both through the rear-view and gave you both a proud nod of completion.

“You two make a good team. I wouldn’t mind working with you both again in the near future.” You turned to Jimin who was busy with wrapping a fresh flesh wound on his hand.

You spotted him smirking that awful...yet so attractive smirk as he rakes his now free hand through his dark hair.

“As long as it just business, I’m always willing to work with you...unless...”

#jiminambw #jimin x black reader #btsambw #bts ambw #bts x reader #bts jimin

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randomlifeunit · 2 years

Text

Whumptober 2022

No. 3: Hair's Breadth From Death

Gun to temple | "Say goodbye." | Impaled

TW: Suicidal character; gun

This is an excerpt from my story, "Where The Path Leads," chapter 16.

(Click for better quality)

Deep in an empty alleyway, at a dead end between two decrepit brick buildings, Sean came to a stop. A distant streetlight faintly illuminated part of the space, and it seemed utterly deserted. A sense of finality flashed, and he sighed deeply. This was it. A million thoughts tried to crowd into his mind at once, but he forced them down tightly. Soon these feelings could be erased. Grasping hold of the gun, he slid the magazine into place, satisfied with the click he heard. Disengaging the safety, he racked the slide, ensuring a round went into the chamber.

It was the moment, the one he'd been so sure of; but he wavered for a long time, staring at the gun in his hand. The prosthetic eye was putting out faint ghost images, but the weight of the weapon grounded it firmly in his palm.

A sudden shout nearly made him leap out of his skin. He spun around, scanning the shadows till he spotted two people running towards him. Two familiar silhouettes took shape in front of his eyes: Wes and Anya.

Sean's heart sank. No.

He backed up a couple of steps, shaking his head slowly from side to side. His metal hand thrown out to ward them off, he lifted the gun to his temple with his other hand. His friends skidded abruptly to a stop. Wes held one hand out, breathing hard, while the other pushed Anya behind him. "Sean!" he yelled, eyes wide. "Don't!" He turned his head slightly and whispered to Anya. She backed away slowly until she rounded a corner of the building, out of sight.

The silence seemed complete save for the heavy breathing of the two in that dark space.

Sean's hand held steady on the weapon. "Please. Don't try to stop me. Just leave," he said, voice low and rough. Wes stepped boldly closer. Sean's eye widened at his proximity. "You know I can't do that," Wes said, holding a hand out. "Not at a time like this."

Sean's face twisted slightly. "You don't know anything about this. About me. Just leave me alone." His voice took on a hard edge, and a faint tremor started in his hand.

"I know enough to know I care about you." Wes responded. He drew even closer, and dared to put a hand tentatively on Sean's shoulder. Looking earnestly into his friend's eye, Wes said, "Listen to me. Don't do this. You have people who care about you, who want you around, and who would do anything to make sure you are okay. Please don't let it end this way."

Emotion rose in Sean's throat, choking him. He swallowed hard against the overwhelming storm that threatened to drown him. "I...just want..." he blew out a breath and tried again. "I want the pain to stop. Please let me...make it stop."

Feel free to read more on Ao3 if you'd like!

#whumptober2022 #no.3 #gun to temple #oc #fic #gun #suicidal character #suicide #self harm #fic excerpt #my writing #randomwrites #randomart

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almonds-nsfw-world · 1 month

Text

I'm sorry baby, please? - Sampo Koski

.ೃ࿐𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : ̗̀➛ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈

-‘๑’- summary -- Sampo is terrible with dates, having had once again forget it was both your anniversary - the third time in a row. He's always out doing his usual Sampo Koski business. Yet you can't help but doubt his loyalty to you.

-‘๑’- pairing -- Sampo Koski x gn! reader

-‘๑’- status -- pre-established relationship, romantic

-‘๑’- situation -- slight angst, mentions/ doubting Sampo Koski's loyalty, asking if he's cheating on you, grinding against his pants,

You were laying down upon the soft sheets of your shared bed, a sigh spilling from your lips as you curled yourself up.

This wasn't the only time he had forgotten it was the third anniversary of yours and his relationship.

The thought alone caused your shoulders to slump, not knowing where he has gone to now and why. And if he was in danger or had some...unresolved issues to solve.

You loved him deeply, but sometimes you wondered if it was enough to keep this relationship going because you weren't sure if you could keep on living like this...the amount of quality time you both shared was...limited. Short.

Sure, Sampo was physical and perhaps sometimes clingy. But it was short lived for he'd always disappear and only come back during the early hours of the morning.

'Perhaps...perhaps he's with another...', you internally winced from your own thought, causing your heart to tighten and your stomach to clench and for the tears to pool in the corner of your eyes, 'Sampo isn't like that', you tried to tell yourself. But even deep down, you weren't sure if you could even believe that sentence anymore.

Sampo was always known as the trickster and the one to fool anyone and make them believe him.

'Could he...No', You shook your head, curling in on yourself as the cool air of the night drifted through the partially open windows, slithering over your skin while all you could do was close your eyes and bury your head into the warmth of his pillow that smelt of chocolate and roses.

The handle of the door suddenly clicked, making you sigh knowing he's finally home.

You rolled your eyes, keeping your back to the door.

"Honey? Baby?", he whispered softly, noticing you were still awake from the way you breathed and subconsciously flinched from his voice. He slightly winced at that, covering it with his signature, lazy smile before he walked over to the bed, sliding in beside you and wrapping his arms around you, "I'm sorry. I didn't think my...er, job, would take so long." He forced out a chuckle only to clear his throat when he saw you didn't respond.

Your brow furrowed and you couldn't help but slowly move away from his touch, feeling tears slowly brim your eyes while you struggled to control the temper that rose within you, "Where were you?"

Sampo closed his eyes, his body tensing from the question, "I-I was at the ring...I, uhm, place a bet on a fighter and then it just...well, ended up with more bets...and stuff? Don't worry your sweet, pretty little face. I had it all under control." He grinned down at you, pressing his nose against your temple as his slid across your stomach before slipping it under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin radiating through his gloves.

"Do you know what date it is...well, was?", you asked him with a clenched jaw, trying not to let the comfort of his touch ease your apprehension on whether or not he truly was telling the truth. But Sampo couldn't help but frown at the sudden question and try to cover up his bubbling nervousness with a chuckle, "It's...March 13th?"

You blinked, sitting upright and turning to face him with a frown, feeling your fingers ball themselves into the sheets and your breathing to deepen, "Our anniversary. This is the third year." The shortness of your tone made his heart slightly clench, feeling his eyes slightly widen before he awkwardly laughed, "Ah! I-I never forgot! I just...well, er...uhm? Maybe...? B-But look on the bright side, I won most of the bets so I can buy you anything you want! How's that?" His gloved fingers gently grabbed onto your chin, but the way your eyes seemed...distant made him hesitate, "I'm sorry."

His shoulders slumped.

You gently gripped his wrist, moving it away from your chin before glancing off to the side, not knowing how to ask him this question but knowing you wouldn't know the truth unless you did, "Are you...are you cheating on me?"

Sampo's resolve crumpled - perhaps his heart did too.

His smile faltered before he gently grabbed your chin again, forcing you to look into those beautiful, emerald eyes of his, "I may be dishonest...with certain things, but I would never cheat in a relationship. That is one rule I would never break. Never." He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he glanced down to the sheets and released, "My heart beats for you and you alone." He moved back, leaning against the headboard and staring at the wall ahead, "I'm sorry I made you question my loyalty and that I am quite forgetful with dates and stuff."

You felt your shoulders relax, making you become filled with a guilt to even have had questioned him like this, causing you to slump back down upon the pillow, burying your head into his side, "I didn't...I didn't mean to ask that, I just." You sighed, closing your eyes as you felt his fingers weave through your hair gently, "It's okay sweetheart, I know. But I did forget our anniversary, and for that I'm sorry." He kissed the top of your head gently, "Can you forgive 'ole Sampo Koski?"

You slightly smiled, opening your eyes to glance down at your fingers, "No." You then brought your gaze up to his own, biting your lip, "You'll have to earn it." He cocked a brow teasingly, lifting your chin up while he brought his face closer, "Oh? I think I have plenty of ways to make up to you, my baby." His fingers then moved to trace the curve of your jaw, pressing his forehead against your own - only to then push his lips against your own slowly.

He smiled against your lips, feeling your hands grip onto his waistcoat and the impatience filling your enter being. He pulled back, smirking while running a finger down your cheek, "Wipe that frown off your face, sweetheart, I know you're eager but I want to take my sweet 'ole time with ya." A grin slithered across those moist lips of his, "It is our anniversary after all."

"You mean the anniversary you forgot?", you retorted, shaking your head with a small smile before wrapping your arms around his neck and sliding yourself onto his lap with a chuckle, "you're still on thin ice." You raised your brow with a smirk.

Sampo laughed - a full, hearty laugh - as he placed his hands upon your waist, pulling you even closer so that you hips were locked together, "You're cheeky as always. I love it." He grinned, throwing off his gloves and then knotting his fingers into your hair and smashing his lips against your own in a manner that left you wanting for more.

You moaned at the feeling of his tongue intertwining with your own, making your fingers curl around his belt in need of him inside you as you felt him cheekily smile into the kiss before he slid his hands further down your waist until they rested upon your hips, pulling you down onto his crotch so you could feel the hardness and wetness growing against his pants. "I'm sorry baby, please? Please forgive me?" He mumbled between kisses, wanting you to forgive him for forgetting a day that truly meant a lot to both of you...wanting to make it right even if he had failed to these past three years.

You couldn't help but feel your thigh muscles tense and tighten around his hips at the erection that slowly began to harden against your crotch, causing a moan to spill from your lips. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, sliding your hands up and down his chest in hopes to ease the throbbing pain of your arousal, "Sampo", you whimpered out against his neck, allowing your lips to brush against the sensitive skin below his jaw.

"That's it baby", he whispered, slowly guiding your hips forward and back along with his own. His wet, cock strained against the seam of his pants as it brushed against your withering entrance with every slow thrust.

You felt the wetness prod against your sensitive hole through his boxers that you wear to sleep. You couldn't help but bite down upon your lip and arch your back from the sensation, saying his name as though it were the only thing you knew while you rolled your hips against his own, following his movements eagerly in hopes he'd finally fuck you hard.

"That's my sweetheart", he cooed again, this time his mouth was pressed against your ear and taking your earlobe between his teeth and gently pulling it teasingly, "do you want to cum? Do you want to cum for me, your sweet, 'ole Sampo Koski? Tell me you do." Your nails dug into his shoulders, feeling your thighs struggle to clench as his covered cock brushed against the spot that made you quiver and whimper.

Your head fell back while you arched from the sensation, a gasp spilling from those divine lips of yours he never seems to forget. "I-I do", you managed to choke out, struggling to catch your breath from the pleasure that filled your system - your words alone causing him to pick up the pace and place his lips against the sensitive part of your throat.

A whine fell from him mouth, his hands sliding up and tightening their hold in your hair as his hips began to thrust up into your own. His own need for your tight, delicious hole driving him with the want to cum and make a beautiful mess that symbolised both your love for one another.

You felt your folds slightly separate from the way the tip of his cock pushed against it with every buck of his hips. You felt your stomach and walls squeeze together in a sign of your close climax. But it was the way his tongue slithered across your collarbone that made you gasp out, "I-I'm going to cum...!" Sampo grabbed onto your hair with one hand, his other sliding down to your chest and placing his thumb against your hardened nipple with a breathless chuckle, "Me too, little love. Cum for me honey. Cum for me."

His thumb pushed down on your nipple as his mouth bit down on your shoulder, feeling his cock throb in his pants and for his balls to tighten before he whined, "L-Look at you, always so beautiful and perfect for me." His fingers then slide down between your legs, making circling patterns on your bundle of nerves, gently pushing down upon the area as he couldn't get enough of those sweet sounds of yours.

Your own orgasm shuddered through your entire system, causing you to wrap your arms around is neck and bury your hands into his deep, blue locks streaked in white while you rode out your high - only to collapse onto his chest and try to catch your breath.

"I need you", you whispered into his ear, closing your eyes and sliding your hands down to his belt, "I want you."

Sampo laughed, feeling a slight sweat dribble down his pale skin before he grabbed your ass cheeks, squeezing them in a suggestive manner, "Oh baby, I don't plan on stopping anytime soon. Not until you forgive me with your whole heart." His lips coiled into a smirk.

He then closed his eyes with a sigh of content, brushing his lips against your forehead as he spoke, "I plan on fucking you in every position possible...filling you up with my cum till you're nothing but a soaking, wet hole for me."

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