#it is very hard to not sidetrack and just say 'yes i do' without extra essay sdhdsfd trust me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spartanguard · 4 years

Text

even death won’t part us now (2/?)

Summary: Two covens, both alike in dignity, / In fair New York, where we lay our scene, / From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, / Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes / A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; / Whole misadventured piteous overthrows / Do with their death bury their sires’ strife. (Captain Swan + West Side Story + vampires. But not as sad. Probably.)

rated M | part 1 | AO3 | 3.9k words

A/N: I was going to post this update yesterday but *life*. We really get into the story, though—I hope you enjoy it! Thanks again to @optomisticgirl for being an awesome beta; to @thesschesthair for her amazing art; and to @kmomof4 and @cssns for putting this event on and pushing me to continue this story!

say what you will about Glee, but Darren Criss’s version of this song is amazing

part two— the air is humming, and something great is coming...

2020

The sun was setting on another day, just like it had for the last 5000-plus. At least, Emma figured the number was up there; she’d stopped counting around day 4,588. Which was really an absurdly long time to count considering her days were no longer numbered, but old habits died hard, even if she never would.

She’d accepted that fact somewhere around day 4,040, which ironically was her 40th birthday. But instead of dealing with gray hairs and wrinkles and aching joints, she was still in her 28-year-old body, fairly spry and with exactly one white hair blended into her blonde. (Not that she could see it in the mirror anymore—or, you know, anything—but she knew it was there and that was all that mattered.)

She knew she’d finally settled into her new life when she was looking forward to drinking the deer blood she had at home and not longing for chocolate cake like she had the past several birthdays. Well, she still wished she could eat it—real food didn’t digest properly anymore—but the blood sounded just as good.

“It probably took me about that long to come to terms with it, too. Longer for your dad,” her mom had told her about the revelation.

That had been another epiphany: that the kindly undead couple she’d somehow ended up on the doorstep of—David and Snow Nolan—were her parents. Her actual birth parents. You know, the ones she’d been looking for her entire mortal life? (Had once dreamed would save her from one shitty foster home after another until she finally gave up hope, and instead turned to counting the days until she moved again?)

As it turned out, they’d been attacked and turned shortly after she’d been born—which apparently had been in a backwoods cottage in Maine that her grandparents had owned—and were taking her to the hospital for checkup after the fact. They didn’t trust themselves to face their new reality while also in charge of an infant (an infant with delicious-smelling blood, no less—creepy, but true) and so finished the journey to the hospital, but left her there alone.

Coming to terms with that had taken 1,187 days. There would have been lots of tears, were any of them able to cry; but instead, there was just a lot of emotion, which Emma had never dealt well with. But she was getting better. Who knew the kind of personal growth one could achieve after death? And it was a good lesson in how to handle (or not handle) things should the son she herself gave up ever manage to track her down.

(She looked—once, before she was turned. All she’d been able to find out was that he ended up in the foster system, too. She just hoped he was having a better time of it than she did. Well, had—he’d be an adult by now, wouldn’t he? Damn.)

So. Anyways. Sunset. Which Emma was watching from the roof of their building, which had become something of a refuge for her over the past 15 years. She had her own bedroom, but after so long on her own, being an adult suddenly under the same roof as her parents (who, despite being physically younger than her, still acted like her parents) was a bit stifling at times.

It wasn’t much, but it was her own space: she’d cobbled together a tent with some reclaimed tarps, filled with gently-used cushions, and on nice nights, would bring out a sleeping bag and let the lights and sounds of the city wash over her. It had been overwhelming at first—she kind of envied that her parents only had to deal with forest smells when they turned, and not the incredible everything of New York—but it had dulled over time, which she probably should have expected; it had only taken her a week or so to get used to the smell the first time, right?

That’s to say—the overwhelmingness did; she learned to tune things out and let them fall to the background. But her senses themselves were the sharpest they’d ever been, consequently making her even better at her job than she’d been pre-death. Having ethereal beauty compared to a mere mortal easily drew in most of her targets; her preternatural sight, hearing, and strength made it pretty simple to track them down and subdue them (she loved it when they ran); and she’d found out they were extra willing to comply with her demands when they were down a bit of blood. (It probably was connected to the whole your-sire-can-control-you thing but it didn’t last once they’d recovered from the blood loss and it kept her from murdering random ne'er-do-wells on the street; the lower a body count a vampire kept, the better.)

On a normal night, she’d be getting ready to catch another skip: either gussying up for a honeytrap, revving up her old Bug for a stakeout, or trying to track them down on Tinder while binging Netflix in the background (they kept up on technology...for the most part; she still wasn’t sure what a TikTok was). One thing a lot of the stories leave out is that it takes a long time to build up the kind of wealth and decadence you see with old vampires; even Emma’s parents still had to work, 40-odd years into this thing (David was an after-hours vet and Snow taught night school) and their townhouse was not rent-controlled.

Of all the vampire media out there, their existence was far more What We Do In The Shadows than Twilight.

(Emma had always preferred comedy anyways.)

God, she was really getting sidetracked tonight. Anyways. No one was working because it was the anniversary of her being turned—her rebirthday, so to speak—and her mom was very much Leslie Knope when it came to anniversaries, but especially this one, given that it marked them finally coming together as a family.

That, and they were all going to get drunk.

“My class is a bunch of assholes this semester—I need this,” Snow had gushed earlier that week, grading papers behind their blackout curtains. (Vampires didn’t sparkle, thank god—at least, not without the help of glitter—but they were dangerously susceptible to sunburns, so the whole pale thing was accurate.) “And David—you’ve worked every weekend the last month; they can definitely operate without you for one night.”

“I put in for it a month ago, dear,” he tutted as he gathered the laundry, placing a kiss on her cheek as he went.

They were definitely one of those nauseatingly cute couples, so it was a good thing Emma’s gag reflex was dormant. And, though she’d never admit it, she was a bit jealous that they’d been able to find—and keep—something that had evaded her her entire mortal life, and likely would for her afterlife, too.

Every now and then, a flash of blue eyes blinked into her vision; the same pair she’d seen on the night she transitioned. She still wasn’t sure they were real, and her parents genuinely knew nothing when she’d asked, so she never did again. The fact that she hadn’t ever seen them again, despite knowing just about all the vampires in this part of town (for better or worse), had her pretty convinced it was a mania-induced hallucination. But damn, was it a good one.

“Emma, are you ready?” Snow’s voice pulled Emma from her daydreams (nightdreams?). “It’s time to go,” she shouted—not loud enough to annoy the neighbors, but enough for Emma to hear.

“Coming,” she replied, then took one last glance at the night sky. Maybe there was something different in the stars? She didn’t know; she just had this feeling that something was going to change tonight.

She brushed her hands down the skirt of her light pink dress; it wasn’t what she’d usually wear, but since this wasn’t her typical honey trap, she’d borrowed a dress from Snow. It was definitely sweeter than her taste, with its pastel color and A-line skirt, but just cut low enough to not be demure. Her high ponytail fell somewhere in between. Her fangs would probably take it in another direction, but it’s not like she was going to pose for photos—she only just showed up in those.

In a moment, she was back in the house, grabbing her purse and joining her parents (who equally straddled the line of sweet and seductive; it was a vampire thing).

Out of nowhere, a flash of light blinded her. “Seriously?” she cursed, blinking away the temporary blindness, only to see her mother holding a Polaroid camera. That was the one thing that could document them; thank god the hipsters over in Greenwich Village had clung to them.

Snow just grinned and shook the picture while David lectured, “It’s not like we got to see you off to prom or anything.”

“Yeah, but are you going to do this every year?”

“Yes,” Snow stated matter-of-factly, smiling at the photo before setting it aside. “Now come on; there’s a bloody mary calling my name.”

“Where are we going?”

“That new underground club at 43rd and 10th. Figured we should try it, and it should be trouble-free.”

‘Trouble’ meaning the Aurum coven. Emma still hadn’t figured out the reason for this centuries-long blood feud, but she did know that she’d been dragged in on the side of Coroza, under a woman named Cora; turns out Walsh had been one of her cronies. And it normally wouldn’t affect her, save for the fact that her parents were turned by someone in Aurum (led by the mysteriously mononymed Gold) and that had dangerous implications, not to mention the rising tensions between the two groups as they began to encroach on each other (and each other’s feeding grounds) on the Upper West Side.

“You sure? That’s awfully close.” 43rd had become an arbitrary border between the two factions, and there had been more than a few skirmishes while people were on the prowl for a midnight snack. She’d had a couple close calls of her own while tracking down skips in the part of town, but had somehow managed to evade notice.

“It’s on our side of the street,” her mom shrugged in response and grabbed her purse.

(Why one side couldn’t just move to another part of town, Emma didn’t know, but she was definitely aware of how stubborn vampires could be. And she wasn’t going to move; there’s no way they’d be able to get a place like this anywhere else for a reasonable price.)

She’d hardly gotten out the door when a familiar scent caught her nose—and not necessarily a welcome one: Graham.

“Uh, hi, Emma,” he stammered, while giving her a shy yet adorable grin.

“Hey,” she answered back, not meeting his eyes—and instead finding Snow’s, who was intently studying the sky. Snow had been trying to get the two of them together for at least 10 years, and while Graham was a great guy, a good friend, and handsome to boot, Emma had never been attracted to him like that. A fact that seemed to keep falling silent on Snow’s ears despite her enhanced hearing.

(His blue eyes were pretty, but they weren’t the pair that kept haunting her.)

Given the sudden awkwardness that settled over the group—because that was apparently something you had to deal with whether you were dead or alive—it was up to Emma to break it. Not that she had any skill in that department.

“Alright, uh, let’s go,” she said with little confidence, and set off towards the club, with the others falling in behind her; Graham stayed close and if she wasn’t mistaken, attempted to put an arm around her, but she walked a bit faster to avoid his reach. The bar was only a few blocks away, which they could normally cover in less than a minute, but they had decided to blend in with the crowd tonight; it was nice to be normal every now and then.

But still—every now and then, the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck rose, and it had nothing to do with Graham’s proximity. Something was coming; she just didn’t know what.

That wasn’t for her to worry about tonight, though. Tonight was for fun and drinks and dancing. And once they got to the darkly-lit club, that’s what she focused on for the next hour or so—

—Until her gaze locked with the blue eyes from her dreams.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Killian took a deep breath as soon as he exited the jetway—and immediately regretted it. He didn’t know why he expected LaGuardia to have changed at all in the past 15 years. Despite all the reconstruction, it still smelled the same: of old coffee, questionable sushi, and stale humans. (The latter was a double-edged sword: despite eating shortly before he got to Heathrow, there had been a few delays before takeoff and he was feeling rather peckish now, although nothing here seemed appetizing. Which was probably something he had in common with mortals at the moment.)

He didn’t know why he’d assumed that he might have been routed through JFK this time—why would he think Gold would care enough to properly welcome home his best operative from abroad after 15 years?—but he tried to push that ire to the back of his mind as he summoned an Uber.

At least the delays meant he landed just as the sun was setting; his previous plan had been to hang around the terminal until dusk, so at least this prevented any awkward encounters with some overtalkative Midwesterner on their way back to Cleveland. Signs pointed him to the ride share lot, and a gentleman named Marco was waiting to take him home.

On the ride into the city, he marveled at how New York always seemed like a living, breathing thing, constantly evolving and changing. He could still sharply remember the dusty bustle of the town more than 200 years ago, the sound of carriages running over dirt and cobbled streets. He’d watched as the city grew, sprawling both across and beyond the Manhattan island and up into the sky, the smell of horses and people and sweat replaced by the acrid stench of exhaust (although, even his extra-sensitive nose had gotten used to it in short order).

So it was both surprising and not to see how much the city had changed even in the last 15 years, most noticeably in the skyline: the Twin Towers were still fresh in everyone’s memory when he’d left, so to see the new One World Trade Center in their place was a bit jarring. But the sun still glinted golden off the skyscrapers the same way; pedestrians still hardly waited for the crossing signals to give the okay to go; and though he wasn’t in a yellow cab, a language barrier still lay between him and his driver.

Cash tips were understandable to all, though, which Killian handed over once they’d arrived at his apartment building on 34th—the Chelsea side. He’d owned his flat since the building was constructed, which was fairly impressive, but did require him to occasionally change the name on the paperwork lest anyone notice anything suspicious.

(Someone had figured out at some point that it was helpful to have an ally in both the Social Security office and the DMV; Archie and Jefferson traded off every 20 years or so in order to help create revolving identities for the members of the vampire community. The name on his ID at the moment was Kyle Johnson, and during the past 100 or so years since he’d been required to have one, he’d also been Killian James, Ian Joseph, and—though he had to admit, he’d picked this one just to see if he could get away with it—James Hook.)

And thankfully, he’d had a reliable roommate for the past 80 years. “Honey, I’m home,” he called out after braving the still-shaky lift to the top floor.

“About bloody time,” Robin called back from the couch. “You know I had dinner ready for you before you left?”

“Ha,” Killian answered. “I’d hate to see what that looks like after all this time.”

“Oh, I let him go. And good thing, too—he ended up writing Hamilton.”

Killian had barely poked his head into his musty bedroom before he returned to the living room. “You didn’t actually have Lin-Manuel Miranda in here, did you?” To most people’s surprise, Killian was a bit of a theater nerd; the West End was great, but he was looking forward to catching up on Broadway again.

“No. But maybe that’s a good strategy if we want to get tickets.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

His stomach grumbled in agreement.

Robin chuckled. “There’s a bottle in the fridge you can have; figured you’d be hungry when you got back.”

Killian tossed his luggage in his room and emerged again. “Have I ever mentioned that I love you?”

“Maybe a few times over the past several decades.”

He downed the bottle quickly; the black blood market never gave the best stuff—considering the type of mortals who would be willing to sell their blood for money and didn’t qualify to sell plasma—but it hit the spot in a pinch, and every now and then had something good. This definitely wasn’t, but it sated his thirst long enough to take a shower and wash the airplane off of him.

As he stared at the fogged mirror with nothing looking back at him, rubbing his palm over his permanently well-trimmed scruff, he realized he hadn’t yet checked in with Gold. Even if he’d spent the last decade-plus doing the man’s bidding from abroad, it was still easy to forget about him.

Well, mostly—until he glanced back down at his blunted left wrist. Then it just brought ancient memories to the surface, as fresh as the day they’d happened, no matter how many centuries had intervened.

Which reminded him: he was still missing something. He shot off a quick missive to Gold as he pulled some clothes out of his depressingly dated closet (having left anything more modern in a consignment shop in London), managing to put together something vaguely timeless. But before he dressed, he turned his attention on the nightstand drawer.

He slowly pulled it open, though he knew what would be inside: his hook, as sturdy and sharp as ever, with its well-worn leather brace. Sure, he had a fairly modern prosthetic hand—one that TSA didn’t mind so much—but the hook had come first, and was definitely his preferred artificial appendage. He hadn’t meant to go so long without it, but then again, he hadn’t expected his London assignment to take so long.

(Although, 15 years to him was roughly the same as 2 or 3 to the average mortal.)

Slipping on the soft leather was like greeting an old friend (well, another one, albeit he’d known this one longer than Robin). And snapping in the hook settled a part of him that he hadn’t realized had been adrift all these years. It didn’t fully still the odd sense of anticipation he’d had ever since he landed, but he definitely felt more at ease.

With that settled, he finished dressing and then headed back to the living room and flopped on the sofa next to Robin. “When did we get a new couch?” he asked indignantly, inspecting the unfamiliar upholstery.

“As soon as you left.”

“And what was so wrong with the previous one?”

“It was from the 70s! It was hideous and uncomfortable and you know it.”

Killian could only sigh; Robin was completely right.

“Anyways,” Robin continued. “We’ve plenty of time to argue about furniture but very little to decide what we’re doing tonight.”

“Why? What’s tonight?”

“You arrive back in North America for the first time in a decade and a half and you think that’s not a reason to celebrate?”

“Well, I was in Toronto a few years ago.”

“Still the Commonwealth. Doesn’t count. What do you want to do? There are quite a few people anxious to see you.”

Well that’s good for them, he thought, but he wasn’t so sure of the same. The time away in the UK had definitely made him reconsider some of his connections back here in the States; getting away from the drama with Coroza had made him realize how petty he found it all. Though he’d never be completely extricated given that Gold was his sire, he’d definitely be alright with staying distant from the other frivolous disputes.

(And after spending a bit too much time in Brighton—particularly with some headstones bearing the name Jones and some rather divy taverns that were still somehow open all these centuries later—he wished more than ever to be free of Gold’s influence. Alas.)

He supposed he could placate them for one night, though; it’s not like he was going to sleep anyway. “Are there any new clubs to check out?”

“For you—plenty. For all of us...aye, there’s one that’s just opened up about...10 blocks away? Ish?”

“In which direction?”

“Up, but kind of midtown so it should be in the clear.” Meaning no one from Coroza would be there.

“Sounds fine, then,” he replied; after so many years, every club started to feel the same, but he was willing to give it a shot.

It wasn’t long before he found himself dressed in a waistcoat and slacks that were trendy a decade ago, hoping his hair was styled appropriately (he stopped caring about 130 years ago), and waiting outside the apartment building of Robin’s girlfriend Regina.

“Jones, it’s the 21st century; why do you still have a fish hook on the end of that arm?” she greeted when she emerged from the tower, with a young vampire behind her.

“It’s nice to see you too, Regina,” he tossed back. They’d known each other for well over a couple hundred years and this was just how they communicated. Nodding at the young man, he continued, “Who’s this?”

“This is Henry; he’s new.” The statement was matter-of-fact enough that Killian knew she wouldn’t say anything else. But he seemed friendly, albeit nervous, and Gold never complained about new vampires on their side—just Coroza.

It didn't take much for him to immediately think of Emma. His thoughts had drifted to her more than he cared to admit over the past years, wondering if she’d acclimated or if she’d burned out. It was definitely odd that such a brief encounter had left such a lasting impression, but at the same time, it had taken him well over 250 years to get over his first love; he was a romantic at heart, even if that heart no longer beat.

He of course said nothing about it as they continued on; if no one had discovered what he’d done that night by now, he was content to leave it that way. There were other ways of him finding out if she was still around, such as—

—Such as the green eyes staring at him from the other side of the club, barely a minute after he’d entered it, freezing him in place.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading, friends! let me know if you want/don’t want a tag! @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda

#cs ff #cssns20 #cs vampire au #even death won't part us now #my ff #cssns 2020

53 notes · View notes

ruby-rainy · 4 years

Text

He was home before her, sitting on the couch on his phone. He hadn't yet changed out of his work clothes, but his tie was loosened, his blazer hung over the back of the chair. She came home, a normal day, but still glad it was Friday after a long week. She hung up her coat, set her purse on the table. She brought him a glass of water, and flopped next to him on the couch. She breathed in his scent. He kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair back. "Thank you, darling. Go in the bedroom and wait for Daddy." She wondered what kind of night he had planned. Sometimes nothing happened, but telling her to go in the bedroom was pre-cursor to Daddy diaper time. She went and sat on the edge of the bed. He came in a few minutes later, with his blazer, and hung it up in the closet. She watched, saying nothing, just wondering if Daddy was feeling strict or loving tonight. His tone was ambiguous. He took off his tie and hung it up, but didn't change out of his work clothes. He stepped over to her and traced his finger up her stomach and over her titty. He began to open her blouse, exposing her cleavage. He lifted her shirt up over her head. He began to ask her about her day. "Did you get your report finalized for Monday?" He pushed her back on the bed and undid her pants zipper. "Yes." "Yes, what?" he corrected. "Yes, Daddy, I did." She raised her hips for him to slide her pants and underwear off. "I finished it and I am waiting on a review from another department." He stepped over to the drawer and pulled out a diaper and a diaper booster insert. "That's good, I like to hear that my little one is a hard worker," he said as he unfolded the diaper and busied himself situating the insert at the crotch. "Up." She lifted her hips up once more, and lowered them when she felt him slide the diaper under her. She spread her legs open and the backing crinkled a little as she adjusted. Daddy rubbed alongside her inner thighs, inspecting. "You will have to shave again soon for Daddy. You know Daddy likes your pussy smooth." "I'm sorry Daddy," she apologized. "I will." "It's ok for now sweetheart. I just want to make sure you remember like a good girl. I know you're my good girl." He was pulling the front of the diaper up over her and eye-measuring the tapes. He ran his hand from the back to the front of her crotch, to make sure the boost insert was lined up correctly. "You know, you might need two of these inserts today, baby. What do you think?" "No Daddy! I only need one! Please not two." She sounded a bit whiny. "Well that is ultimately my decision, but I suppose we'll just do one and see how it goes." He agreed, while taping the diaper into place. Her legs were still spread and he rubbed the front of her diaper and gave it a few quick pats. He pulled a short nightgown out and motioned for her to sit up. The familiar puffy cotton pressed against her vulva and she sat up and lifted her arms. Daddy slid the nightgown over her head and spent a few extra seconds adjusting it and caressing across her titties. He patted the front of her diaper again, tweaked her titty, and booped her on the nose. She laughed. He kissed her forehead and wait for what she would say next, "Thank you for taking care of me, Daddy." She hadn't wanted to be in diapers at first, and was especially resistant to thanking him for it, so he was pleased she was thanking him without any prompting. This was the moment she watched for after they had their evening diaper routine. If Daddy changed out of his work clothes and into basketball shorts, she was in for a loving night. If Daddy stayed in his work clothes, he was feeling stricter. Apparently, this evening, Daddy was feeling strict. He pulled her off the bed and brought her by hand to the kitchen. He stood her facing the corner of the table. Knowing this routine, she automatically spread her legs a bit further than shoulder width apart. He put one hand on the corner of the table, and placed her other hand on top of it. She looked up at him wondering how long he'd want her to be in position. He set her there and went over to the cabinet. She watched as he opened it, pretended to reach for one of the small cups she used, but then changed to a larger, tall glass. He filled it with water and placed it in front of her. She was to finish the water before she could do anything else. This was a power play on Daddy's part. When he first put her in diapers, she would just hold it. He knew he needed to make her fully submit to his role in charge, so he made her drink water to ensure the diaper would be needed. She would also put on yoga pants to try to hide the diaper he put her in, so he bought her a few short cotton nightgowns. Not babyish, bit not sexy negligee either. The standing position was so she couldn't try to hide by sitting down. When he first started making her stand this pose, she would quickly gulp down the water so she could be done. He decided that was not enough time in submissive position so he set the kitchen timer. Today it was for 10 minutes. She had to stay for 10 minutes or finish the water, whichever was longer. She could only pick up her hands to drink from the glass. If he was feeling really strict, sometimes he made her just use a straw. It was harder to drink fast with a straw. Sometimes he moved her legs farther apart. Sometimes he'd tease her to make sure she stayed in position, coming over to rub her hair or her diapered backside. If she moved from the submissive position, the timer would restart. There had been lots of trial and error as she was learning these rules, but was now generally cooperative. She looked at her Daddy in his button down work shirt and dress pants. His watch encircled his big wrist, she watched as he flipped through the mail and went and sat on the couch. He glanced up and not-so-subtly hinted, "Aren't you thirsty?" She obediently took a large sip of water. He didn't mind how she entertained herself during submissive position, as long as she fulfilled the time and drank her water. Today she was in a good mood, because she was humming a bit and swaying her butt. His phone rang, and he answered it. He leaned back on the couch, looking over at her while he talked. "Naw, I can't tonight man. I'm bushed from this week." He reached forward and grabbed her diaper from behind, daring her to turn around. "Well I'm definitely up for it, how about meeting at The Top Hat for the game on Monday. I hear your team is going to lose coming up. So much for your bet," he laughed. He finished making plans and hung up. The timer was down to less than 2 minutes. "How's that water," he asked giving her a light swat on the behind. "Nice and cold Daddy," she finished it, and waited out the remaining time. When the chimes sounded, she obediently turned around. "Thank you for teaching me how to submit to you, Daddy. I love you." "I love you too," he pulled her over onto his lap. The cuddled and he turned on the evening news after flipping through a couple channels. She was suspicious, since Daddy was still in his work clothes. Usually she could cuddle and color and play her video games when Daddy had changed out of his work clothes. She usually got tasks to do if he stayed in his work clothes. She didn't have to wait long. "Tonight I want you to clean your nursery," he said, holding up his hand to silence the protest. "There are several things that I have let slide and you know it." The one-bedroom apartment they lived in did not have an actual nursery. She guiltily thought of the doll clothes and markers all over the floor in the hall alcove, which they referred to as her 'nursery,' since it's where all of her things were stored. It was easy to close off the alcove if people came over, hiding their Daddy Dom/ little girl dynamic. She got up and went down to the nursery, and started putting things away, only getting sidetracked a little to play now and then. Daddy could hear this, but he ignored her playing and instead watched TV. She was breaking the rules only a little bit, and there was always a threat of 5 minutes in submissive pose if it got to be too much. When she finished putting away everything in the nursery, she went back to Daddy and crawled into his lap. He said, "I have a special project for you tonight. You've been so responsible lately, I think I want to allow you to do another task." She was intrigued by this, because it meant something different than submissive pose. "I want you to get all your dirty clothes from the hamper and put them in the laundry basket. I want you to do your laundry." Her eyebrows raised in surprise. Obviously she knew how to do laundry and often did it for Daddy, but when she was in Little mode, she was too small for chore like that. This was a change. She got up and started pulling on her jeans. As she was yanking it up over the diaper, Daddy appeared in the doorway. "What are you doing?" "Laundry, like you told me," she said. "I didn't say you could get dressed. I said you would do laundry." She reluctantly pulled the jeans back off and started to fill the laundry basket. Daddy went back and sat down. She continued and sorted the clothes to wash. She slipped her jeans back on when the basket was full and went to the cupboard to get the laundry detergent. The apartment's shared laundry room was on the second floor, near the gym and the main door. Daddy came around the corner. "I already reminded you I didn't tell you to get dressed." She was confused, "But you told me to do the laundry," gesturing towards the basket. "Exactly." She realized that he had meant for her to go to the laundry room in just her nightgown and diaper and her face crumpled. "But Daddyyyyy, no!" Daddy had already thought it through, as the laundry room was generally empty on Friday nights. It was very unlikely that anyone would see her the whole time. "You can hurry and go and come back, or, you can stand her and pout; either way this is what I'm telling you to do." She jumped up and down like she was going to throw a tantrum, "Why are you such a mean Daddy!" He turned her by the shoulders, back to the bedroom, where she slid off the jeans for the second time. "I'm not being Little right now, Daddy. I don’t want to go out wearing only this!" He put the laundry basket back in her arms and gave her 5 quarters for the machine. He walked over and opened the front door. She peered around the corner to see if anyone was in the hallway. It was silent. He softly pushed her into the hallway. She ducked back around him back inside. He turned around with a warning look. "I need my shoes! He knew it was an excuse, but he relented. Her prolonging going into the hall dressed like that only increased his excitement, which he hid from her. The idea of her being forced into the hallway and facing potential humiliation was very arousing. So was knowing she would do what he says. He pressed her up against the wall, and reached down, his lips nipping the top of her cleavage in the nightgown. His left hand pinned her hand above her head, and his right hand reached down and grabbed her diaper. He lightly shook it left and right, enjoying her anxiety and pleading look. "Now stop the phony delays," he said fiercely. "I will be watching. GO." She stepped into the hallway, realizing that it was unlikely that she'd see any neighbors. She tried to walk slowly so her diaper wouldn't crinkle. Daddy stepped into the hallway behind her as she was walking. "Walk normal," he commanded. He watched her walk away down the hall. She looked normal from behind, no one could tell anything - if they didn't know to look. He shut the door and locked it, for his own amusement. He went back and sat on the couch. She continued down the hallway, pausing before entering the stairwell to see if she could hear anyone coming. It seemed safe, so she took the stairs. She would have to pass the main entrance of the apartment, the gym, the mail room, the pool, and several more apartments before the laundry room. She felt like a spy, trying to be so quiet. She could hear some machines from the gym that were in use. She tried to angle the laundry basket as she passed the gym. She saw 3 different people in there, two guys, and a girl on the treadmill. She scowled in jealousy, knowing the other girl didn't have a daddy to make her wear a diaper! None of them paid her any attention as she passed by. In the laundry room, she fed the coins into the washer and started the load. As she was bending down, another person walked by the laundry room, heading towards the front door. Her heart raced, even though he didn't look her direction or even seem notice her. She set the laundry basket on top of the washer and realized she'd have to make the trek back without the protection of a full laundry basket. She stepped into the hallway, hoping that the guy was no longer in the hall. She passed the front door, no one. As she was nearing the gym, the treadmill girl stepped out. She was wearing leggings, a sports bra and had her hair in a ponytail. She tensed, fearing that the other girl would recognize the outline and sound of her diaper. Fortunately, the girl had on earphones, and turned the other direction out of the laundry room. The girl got a few steps, and stopped short and whipped around and started walking towards her. Terrified, she slowed and tried to think of an excuse. But the girl turned back into the gym, so she kept walking. She got a few feet past the gym, when she heard the girl come back into the hallway. She peeped back and saw she was now carrying a water bottle. She was on her phone, not really paying attention, but still only 10 feet or so behind. Her diaper would be obvious! The girl would laugh at her! Tell all the neighbors! Her heart sunk as the girl walked behind her, knowing that this embarrassing secret would get out. Not knowing what else to do, she kept walking. The girl turned down another hallway and disappeared. Back at the apartment, she grabbed the doorknob and found it locked. Frantic, she rapped at the door, "The door's locked!" knowing Daddy was getting a kick out of it. Daddy had been waiting right on the other side of the door, she heard the lock turn. A man came around the corner at the far end of the hall just as Daddy opened the door and she raced inside. "That wasn't so bad, was it? I bet you didn't see one person." She told him that she saw 5 people, and he felt a little remorse. She told him about the treadmill girl and he momentarily imagined the treadmill girl pushing her against the wall to shame her in front of the whole apartment complex. He enjoyed this thought. "Well, maybe you won't see any when you go back to start the dryer. You didn't wet yourself did you?" Joking that her fear would cause incontinence. Her stomach knotted at the idea of the ordeal for a second time. "No, I didn't" she was indignant. While she was gone, Daddy had set out her markers and color books at the kitchen table for her. He had stopped at Kroger on the way home. "I got you a surprise," he announced as she sat at the table. He walked over to the freezer and got out a box of ice cream. "I love ice cream!" She bounced a little in her chair. "Yes but that isn't the surprise," he got out the blender. "Daddy's going to make you a milkshake!" He started assembling the ingredients. After he blended it, he got out the Reddiwhip and made a curly-q on top, before setting it in front of her. She beamed. "Thank you Daddy!" He let her color, keeping an eye on the clock for the washer, while she colored. When the time got closer, Daddy got up and grabbed some coins. "I'll change the washer, Sweetie," he said, as she colored and enjoyed her milkshake. She was relieved Daddy was going down to the laundry, saving her the embarrassment. When he came back, he said, "Well I didn't see anyone!" referencing her nervousness, and she pouted a little at the injustice since he hadn't been trying to avoid anyone. When the dryer was finishing, Daddy let her know she would be resuming the laundry duty to retrieve from the machine. "I put the basket on top of it, you just have to pull everything out." Her confidence strengthened by the fact Daddy hadn't seen anyone, she stepped into the hall. "Don't lock the door this time!" she cried out. She could feel the nightgown swish against her plastic diaper. The water and milkshake were beginning to take their toll on her bladder. She didn't like using the diaper in front of Daddy, even though Daddy said little girls don't need to be embarrassed in front of their daddies. Daddies diaper their little girls to remind them who is the boss and to remove any pride. He encouraged her to tell him when she would pee, but knowing her reluctance, he didn't press the issue. She decided she would use her diaper in the laundry room. No one would be there and she wouldn't have to think of a way to hide it from Daddy, like going down the hall and hiding in her nursery to wet her diaper, even though that little ruse was entirely transparent. In the laundry room, she walked over to the basket on the machine. She opened the dryer door and stood behind it, legs slightly apart, slowly emptying her bladder. She would wait until she was done before pulling out the clothes. As the pee was flowing into her diaper, a shadow passed in the hallway and a man came into the laundry, room, carrying a basket. She froze, with the door open and basket on top of the machine. The man glanced at her, probably wondering why she was just standing there motionless, and walked over to a machine. She fiddled with the basket, not sure what to do. If she bent over, her diaper might leak, and the man might see it if her nightgown rode up. If she squatted down, he would see the white crescent on her crotch. She settled on kneeling down, which was tricky since she was still peeing. She cursed herself, wishing she had waited until she got back and done her nursery room trick instead, no matter how pathetic. She pulled the basket down in front of her and started pulling the clothes out of the dryer. She glanced down, seeing the wetness indicator on her diaper had disappeared. The diaper insert was a good call on Daddy's part. She reached under her crotch and adjusted the diaper, cradling it against her forearm with her hand on her butt. The man left the room, and she straightened back up, now with a wet diaper and empty bladder. The good thing about a wet diaper is that they don't crinkle as much as dry ones. It was also a bit more cumbersome to walk. She carried the laundry basket back, and thankfully Daddy didn't lock the door again. She brought the basket and folded all the laundry and put it away, and resumed her seat at the table. Daddy waited a little while, and called over, "Didn't see anyone, did you? See, you were safe!" She looked down without saying anything and Daddy knew she was feeling embarrassed. "Come over here," he said to her. "What happened? Did you see anyone?" "Yes, Daddy." "Did they see you?" he asked, pulling her hand and positioning her in front of him. "Yes Daddy." "And what happened?" Now he was concerned. As much as he liked the idea of her embarrassment, he didn't actually want their secret to be exposed. Suddenly the whole story came tumbling out. "It happened when I was using my diaper!" She hated admitting peeing in her diaper. "I was standing by the machine and a man came in!" "What did you do? Did you stop?" "No," she was shaky. "I kept going in my diaper." As she recounted the whole story about deliberating how to bend down to hide her diaper, Daddy started getting turned on at her embarrassment. He relished that she had did as he told, even though she hadn't wanted to. She did what he said, even when he was wrong and she was right. "Did the man come over and touch your diaper?" He knew the question was ridiculous, but asked so she could see that it COULD have been worse. "No!! He didn't see it. I don't think." "But you wet it and stood there in front of him? Did you say anything?" "I didn't say anything because you told me not to talk to strangers Daddy, and I stopped wetting then. He got his laundry and I got mine. I waited until he left to go." Daddy lifted up her nightgown. "Ah, see? Maybe I should have given you two inserts!" He cupped her diaper where the wetness indicator had been. He was extremely turned on, not having planned for this situation. She was actually telling him that she wet, and how she had been humiliated. He usually planned for every variation in a scene, which is what made him a good Daddy. She could see Daddy's cock through his work dress pants. He was a large man and had a cock to match. Daddy placed her hand on it, aroused, and said, "See how proud Daddy is of you?" However, she was embarrassed still, that she told him about her diaper and someone saw her using it. He kissed her titties and let go of her hand. "You can go color again, my little one." She returned to the table, starting a new page in her princess coloring book. She knew this story would turn him on, but she did not feel aroused, just embarrassed. Daddy leaned back on the couch and went over the situation again in his mind. The erotic excitement was getting to him. He pictured how the fear must have shown in her face when the man walked into the room. He imagined the scorn if the stranger had known there was a saturated diaper hidden under that thin nightgown. He surged with arousal, feeling his balls tighten. He ached to blow his load. She was coloring when she heard Daddy undoing his belt buckle. She looked over her shoulder to see him unzipping. His boner was sideways in his boxers. "Get over here." She pushed her chair back from the table and ran over, hearing the urgency in his voice. She pulled his pants down to his knees. He pulled her down, between his knees and pointed her face at his dick. "Daddy needs his dick sucked. Now." "Yes, Daddy." She pulled his boner out of his boxers and began gripping it in her small hands. Daddy leaned his head back and spread his legs a little more. She took the head in her mouth, feeling its warmth on her tongue. The belt buckle pressed into the side of her diaper and she hoped the latch wouldn't tear at the plastic. She tried to move it but Daddy began lightly thrusting against her mouth. That in itself turned her on. Her diaper pressed against his leg, which she knew would make him even more crazy. Her tongue moved all over his dick, she moved her head up and down on the shaft. Her hands cupped his balls and gave them a slight tug. His fingers felt for her nipples and he strained forward to touch them as she sucked. "Oh god baby, my cock needed this. Daddy's cock needs to feel good and you're doing such a good job." She massaged his shaft and looked up at him. His eyes were closed and mouth was open. She could smell his aftershave. His dress shirt was pushed up, exposing his belly a bit. His arousal became her own. She wanted to climb on top of him and feel his hardness inside of her. She stood up and started pulling at the tapes on her diaper to settle herself over onto his cock. He opened his eyes and looked up at her, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" "I... I just wanted your cock in me," she stammered, her vulva tingling. She put her hands on her diaper tapes and looked scared. "I did not grant you any permission to 1, stop sucking, 2, take your diaper off, and 3, heed any arousal you might feel. The last thing I remember telling you was that Daddy needed his dick sucked. Did you hear me grant permission?" "No..." "No, WHAT" he corrected. "No, Daddy. I did that without permission." "What happens to little girls who do things without permission?" "They get spankings," she mumbled. His dick was softening, flopped over on its side. "Get in the bedroom and assume position. I am very angry that I was interrupted when I needed to come. Especially by such a greedy, horny brat!" She ran into the bedroom, worried. Daddy was already in a strict mood and she had been greedy. She had also whined when he suggested two diaper inserts, protested when he told her to clean the nursery, dawdled when he assigned the laundry, and tried to hide wetting her diaper from him. If only she hadn't been so turned on by his dick. If she could just get that desire under control she wouldn't get into these predicaments. She stood at the foot of the bed and placed her hands on the mattress. Daddy came in behind her, taking his pants and boxers off, but leaving on his dress shirt. He ignored her position and sat on the bed. He pulled her over his knee, saying, "Why am I spanking you?" "I disobeyed my Daddy," she admitted. "You've been pressing your luck all evening. I changed you into your diaper. I made you a vanilla milkshake. I let you do a new grown up chore. I take care of you because you're too little to yourself. And this is how you behave? Tell me every way you have been bratty since you came home." "I didn't want you to put two diaper inserts." His large hand came down across the back of her thighs. No way would he let that diaper protect her from his punishment. He ran his other hand through her hair, pulling her head back. "Correct. Two smacks for that, one for each insert. What else?" "I didn't shave as close as you like." Smack! "I didn't want to clean my nursery." Smack! “I played with my toys when I was cleaning the nursery.” Smack! “I tried to wear jeans and hide my diaper.” Smack! "I tried to avoid doing laundry." Smack! “I called you a mean daddy.” Smack! "I didn't tell you I wet my diaper." Though she knew this was not a requirement to tell him, but saying so might assuage Daddy's anger. Smack! Daddy was growing hard again as he smacked her thighs. "I tried taking my diaper off without asking." Smack! "I stopped sucking without permission." Smack! "I interrupted your come when you needed your dick sucked." Smack! "I was greedy and tried to put your cock inside me without asking." Smack! "See, when bratty little girls do things like this Daddy must spank them. These are all Daddy's rules and displeasing Daddy results in punishments." He turned her around and pulled her up into his lap, holding her legs across his arms, and her head on his shoulder. "I love my little one and I set these rules because I know what's best for you. Of course you want Daddy's cock inside you, but you're too little to always get what you want. Because I know what's best, your body is mine to use when I need to get off. I don't like you making me have to spank my sweet little girl, I wish you wouldn't be so bratty and just obey Daddy. Then I wouldn't be forced to do this. You know Daddy loves you. Who loves you?" "Daddy does," she murmured, snuggling into his shoulder. He caressed the back of her thighs, which were red and tender from punishment. His hand ran across her left thigh, diaper, and right thigh. He smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. "Daddy loves me and he can use me when he needs to come." "That's my girl. See, if you had not done those bratty things, you might get to feel Daddy's dick pounding your tiny pussy. But because of your greed, that's not an option for you tonight." She looked up at him, with tears welling in her eyes, more upset over this than the spankings. "Don't you want me anymore?" "Of course Daddy wants you. That's why I'll let you suck on my dick to make up for the way you behaved. If I didn't want you, do you think I'd let you do that? Now, tell Daddy again about what happened in the laundry room." He stood her up and spread her short legs a bit, groping her wet diaper. She started the story again, hoping to make Daddy feel better so she spelled out every bit of shame she felt. "I was wetting my diaper when someone come in the laundry room. I didn't want to hold it anymore. I thought I could be sneaky and wet without you knowing. My vagina tingled and I was scared he might see. He might see the outline of the diaper through my nightgown or hear the crinkle of plastic. He would know I was just Daddy's little fucktoy if he did. I was afraid of being found out that I'm not really an adult even though I have titties and look grown. He might find out I'm learning to obey my Daddy and that's why he makes me wear diapers. I do what my daddy says even if I don’t want to." By now Daddy was rock hard again. He loved knowing this beautiful woman would willingly become his little girl. That she would humiliate herself for his approval and love. He loved being in charge of her and training her to his will. It turned him on to know that she trusted him enough to do all these things. He nodded and she got back between his legs again, resuming hungrily sucking on the head. He pulled her nightgown up over her head and threw it on the bed. Now she was naked except for her diaper. Daddy was still in his dress shirt and she felt very exposed and vulnerable. She could taste pre-cum and was thrilled Daddy was happy again. "Oh that's right little one. You can be greedy by sucking my dick, I won't spank you for that. Daddy needs to come. Daddy needs to use you to feel good." She could tell he was getting closer to shooting his load. She was getting aroused again, anticipating the hot load against the back of her throat. Daddy groaned as she glided her mouth up and down on his cock. He was pulsing and running his fingers through her hair. Suddenly he put his hand on her forehead and prevented her from his cock. He threw her face down, bent over the bed. He put his hand on her diaper to keep her from moving away and slammed his boner up against the crotch of her diaper. She felt his hot breath in her ear. "Ah, see? You thought you'd get my come, didn't you?" He pinned her to the bed, dominating her physically, knowing she was in subspace. "If you weren't so bratty maybe you could." She felt his wet dick sliding between her thighs, rubbing against the plastic. She wanted to feel it against her pussy lips so badly. She arched her back against Daddy's hand which was still forcing her down. With his other hand, he was pumping his cock without her, jacking it hard. Without her mouth, without her hands, without her pussy, without her help. She felt so aroused and so useless and unwanted at the same time. "Please," she begged, frantic he would come before she could take part in it. "Please!" "Oh baby, don't you worry. I'll give it to you," he muttered with each pump. "I'll - give - it - to - you!" And suddenly she heard the splatter of his come all over the back of her diaper. She didn't get to help, didn't get to taste it, didn't even get to feel it when he came. All she got was the sound of it. Daddy got up and threw some kleenexes down on her. "Clean off your diaper, because I'm not changing you until tomorrow." He walked out of the room as she laid there, a fucktoy that wasn't even fucked. She ached to get off too, feeling Daddy's breath in her ear and boner along her thighs put her into dizzying subspace. Her diaper was a little saggy from being handled so much and wet. She regretted rejecting the second diaper insert. Her nightgown lay on the bed, rumpled from his domination. She was grateful Daddy came, especially since he had been so strict tonight.

274 notes · View notes

badwolfwrites-sometimes · 4 years

Text

Golden Knights, Silver Crowns: Chapter 2

Feliciano and Ludwig struggle with their relationship, but, after receiving Chel's letter, Feliciano devises a plan to fix it.

Their first days together weren't going so well. Aside from waking up way to early for his tastes and actively doing his duties, Feliciano was bothered by his dreams, reminding him of his past.

But it wasn't all too bad. Ludwig was actually interesting to talk to and talking was easy for Feliciano. Not to mention he was getting along well with Romeo, he didn't treat either of the brothers differently because they weren't close in age. Maybe that was something Feliciano needed.

That morning, Ludwig came in his room with news. "There is a letter for you, Your Highness," he says, holding it in his hands.

Feliciano rubbed his eyes and sat on his bed as Ludwig opened the curtains, maids rushing in to bathe and dress him. Feliciano read the letter afterwards. "It's from my girlfriend," he said. He didn't notice as Ludwig's expression turned from neutral to annoyed.

'Darling Feliciano, I am happy that you considered writing to me about your concerns. Unfortunately, I might not be of much help, but I will offer you my advice regardless. You wrote to me that your problem is with your knight, specifically your past with him, right? I do not want to seem rude, but if both of you are so hung up on past then your relationship will only worsen. I believe you should leave it behind and start from scratch. If that does not work then I am afraid you will have to keep up with what you have been doing until now.'

Feliciano nodded along as he read the letter, agreeing with what Chel was saying up until that point. He glanced at Ludwig, wondering if starting from scratch with him was possible. Ludwig wasn't paying any attention to him, helping out the maids in making Feliciano's bed. 'Huh, he's a gentleman when he wants to be?', Feliciano thought. Maybe his memory of Ludwig from the past was messed up by the promise he broke, but it seems like Ludwig is still a good guy. Smiling, he returned to the letter in front of him.

'Putting that aside, how are you doing? It has been long since we last saw each other, I hope you are doing well. That being said, I will be coming in a few days to help plan our announcement ball. I have so many ideas, you will just love them.

See you soon my love,

Chel.'

Right, he forgot about that. He forgot about his engagement announcement ball. Ludwig's return completely sidetracked him from something so important to his future. If his grandma was alive, she would have punished him so hard for ignoring the traditions. "Ludwig," he called out. Letting Ludwig know was the start. "What is my schedule for this week?"

Leaving the maids to finish up with the work in Feliciano's room, Ludwig pulled out a small black notebook. "Mostly studying and training. What is it?" Ludwig said.

"Is there a way you can fit in preparations for guests anywhere in it? And planning for a ball?" Feliciano asked, folding the paper in his hands and putting it back into its envelope.

If it weren't for Ludwig's sternly neutral expression, Feliciano could probably read the confusion off his face. That didn't seem to be the case here. "What for?" Ludwig asked, noticing it's hopeless to expect Feliciano to read the mood.

"My girlfriend Chel will be coming over soon," Feliciano blurted out. "To help prepare for our engagement announcement ball."

Feliciano couldn't see a trace of emotion on Ludwig's face or body, but, on the inside, Ludwig was boiling over with annoyance. Feliciano was already kept on the strict schedule to make a somewhat decent leader out of him, if he gets carried away at the ball, it would ruin everything.

That being said, it wasn't like Ludwig could stop him. He wasn't royal after all.

"I will see what I can do, but I make no promises. If you are going to be busy preparing the ball, that means I have to cut your free Saturdays," Ludwig said, checking the schedule once again.

"Free Saturdays?" Feliciano asked.

"A day off for you and me. You can do whatever you want on Saturdays and I don't have to watch over you as much. We agreed to this when I arrived," Ludwig explained, closing and putting away his notebook. "You haven't been paying attention, have you?"

Well, there goes another possibly good day. Now, Feliciano would have to endure strict lectures from Ludwig for not listening when he should and he is really not in the mood for them. He really shouldn't speak too much. "My bad, I forgot," he apologized, hoping that would at least fix the situation. "But there's no need to cut them. I can plan during the week and on Saturday, I can plan even more because I'll have more time. That way everything would be done much faster, don't you think?"

Ludwig smirked, that's unusual. Feliciano wasn't always much of a thinking type, but Ludwig knew he liked to plan things, even when they were just kids. However, Ludwig knew of the other side to that coin as well. "You will just end up procrastinating it all until the very last day. Am I wrong, Your Highness?" He said.

Feliciano has once again been caught in an inescapable situation, so he just nodded in agreement. Ludwig knew too much about him, he hasn't, changed much from the childhood after all.

Like any other day since Ludwig's arrival, this day was just as long and Feliciano spent it devising a plan. Obviously, his relationship with Ludwig couldn't go on like this, both of them stuck deep in the past, so he needed a new tactic. He considered asking Ludwig about it, if starting over was okay, but that option would only work under set circumstances.

Which is why he was devising the plan in the first place. Feliciano knew his teachers don't care as long as it looks like he's doing something.

Step one was to be really nice to Ludwig for some time, even though Feliciano thought he was being nice from the start, being nicer never hurt anyone.

Step two was to get Ludwig alone, maybe a nice walk through the garden would do. Just make sure that the setting was perfect, maybe it would soften Ludwig's heart.

Step three was to actually talk to him and this was where Feliciano was having difficulties. Talking to Ludwig wasn't hard... in theory. Feliciano had to watch his words a lot and would have to be serious the entire time and that was exhausting. But those dreams were even more exhausting to him than pretending to be serious, he can do this. He will get Ludwig to accept and he will finally move on!

For the reminder of that week, Chel would be arriving Sunday evening, Feliciano was being extra nice to Ludwig. He didn't complain in the morning anymore, he studied, he discussed serious topics with Ludwig, like how to lower taxes for people and increase the income of the kingdom, and was generally very obedient. Seeing as how Ludwig seemed to be more energized and less annoyed at the end of the day with Feliciano, step one seemed to be working.

Feliciano liked this, Ludwig being less angry at him, but the act has made him more exhausted than he expected. He sneaked into Lovino's room one night after bedtime was announced.

"What do you want this late?" Lovino sneered at him, shuffling through some letters, but quickly putting them away as soon as Feliciano flopped down next to him.

"I'm so tired of this," Feliciano complained. "I didn't think being serious would be this hard."

"It figures. Get off my bed," Lovino pushed him off the bed, so Feliciano had no choice but to stay on the floor.

"Ah, I can't wait for this to end so I can go back to my old self anymore. If I have to talk about money one more time, I will die."

"Get used to it, when Nonno and Papa die, it's our job to do it. They will likely split the empire between the three of us as it seems."

"Would you take over my half?"

"No way in hell, deal with your own shit yourself. Leave me out of it."

"Lovi~"

"If you're done, get out. And turn the lights off and shut the door when you do. I have to catch on my beauty sleep or I'll end up looking like you," Lovino said, adjusting himself in the bed so he faced away from Feliciano.

"Okay. Good night, Lovi," Feliciano said, doing what his brother told him to on his way out.

"Trouble sleeping?" Someone asked as he walked to his room, startling him. He turned around to see Ludwig standing in the hall, arms crossed and holding a torch.

"Not really, just wanted to talk to Lovi. Why are you still up?" He asked.

"I was telling Prince Romeo his bedtime story."

Feliciano's expression softened. Seeing how Ludwig cared for his younger brother made him want to push forward with his plan, he'd like to get to know this new Ludwig without it being influenced by the past. He'd like to be friends with the new Ludwig. "The one with the princess and the dragon?" He asked.

"Yes," Ludwig simply answered as the two walked side by side.

"He told me all about it, I didn't know you could tell stories so well."

"Watching over young kids was a part of my training so I picked it up over time. I don't think I am good at it, but I accept the compliment."

"Well, by Romeo's standards, you're pretty good at it, though you don't have much of a comparison."

"Possibly, I am just glad that he is happy. He is a very good kid and would make a nice ruler one day. You were much more wild when you were younger, Your Highness." There it goes, why did he have to say that?

Why did he have to bring up the past?

Screw the walk through the garden under moonlight, if Feliciano doesn't ask him now, he will never do it.

' It's just a simple question, Feli. No time to be shy. If you don't ask him, you'll just keep on suffering. Just say it, it's not hard', his brain was screaming at him.

"Ludwig?" He called.

"What is it?" Came the response.

"Um, what do you say we...," he trailed off, unsure if this was the right moment to ask such a thing. But he made his choice, he has to do this. "We, uh, start over?"

Ludwig paused in his footsteps, confused. "I beg your pardon?"

Feliciano took a deep breath and looked Ludwig straight into his deep blue eyes. Strange, Feliciano remembered them being much deeper, kinder, there was so much love in those eyes that is now completely gone. Where did it all go? Ludwig's eyes were still beautifully blue, but that's not the same blue Feliciano remembers. Not the same blue he... "What do you say we forget what happened between us in the past and start anew? Become friends as adults?" He asked, all in one breath, hoping that Ludwig understood him.

Ludwig just burst out laughing.

Considering that didn't happen very often, Feliciano would gladly join in the laughter, but he just asked the question that was bothering him for a while and laughing was not the appropriate response, Ludwig! "Why are you laughing?" He asked.

Ludwig finally stopped, straightening himself up. "You must be joking, Feliciano. We can't abandon our past, I can't abandon our past," he answered.

"Why?! Why is it so hard for you to leave it behind?! Why do you have to bring it up every time we talk?!" Feliciano wasn't thinking anymore, he wasn't keeping up the seriousness anymore. Tears were threatening to escape his eyes, no act could keep them behind.

"Because it made me who I am today. Because I promised I would protect you and I am here to do so. I kept my promise even when you forgot and you asking me to throw it away would be throwing myself away. Do you understand, Feliciano? Is it simple enough for you?" Ludwig was back to his seriousness, anger stronger than ever in his voice.

Feliciano couldn't hold it in any longer, Ludwig's tone, the look in his eyes, the walls coming up to squish him from all sides, everything, it was all too much. He broke down in tears, but he could still see that Ludwig wasn't softening up in the slightest. He didn't know why, but it felt like he had been stabbed in the heart a thousand times. "With what an asshole you've become, I'm glad I didn't keep that promise!" He spat out before sprinting to his room. He didn't care who he woke up or who he startled. He just had to get out of there.

He didn't even see the heartbreaking look on Ludwig's face as he ran.

Ludwig collected himself and, instead of running like Feliciano, he walked to his own room. He knew he hurt Feliciano, he could hear him crying all night through the walls, but he doesn't regret what he said. He had been hurt first after all.

That Saturday, neither of them spoke a word to each other. And Sunday seemed to the same, until Princess Chel and her family arrived.

#GerIta #Germany x Italy #APH Germany #hetalia GerIta #gerita fanfic #aph gerita #APH Italy #hws romano #aph romano #hws italy #hws germany #APH #hws #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #hetalia world stars #golden knights silver crowns story

8 notes · View notes

arthur-morgan-slap-my-ass · 5 years

Text

Extra Credit

Anonymous said: actually oh my god could you please write dutch taking a young woman (like early twenties ish) under his wing and being her mentor and obviously it turns hella smutty and he’s super daddy and in control ✊🏻✊🏻👌🏼👌🏼😩😩

Anonymous said: Hello, love your blog. Just wondering, are you by any chance going to write more professor Dutch stuff? The one you wrote a while back was 😚👌

AN: Ask and you shall receive, amirite. This took longer than I expected, mostly because I got sidetracked by my midterms and I’ve had some personal issues alongside while writing so I’m not entirely satisfied with how it turned out - but I hope you like it! There lots of love put into it!!!! As always, thanks to wondeful @winters-uprise for being my beta! Also, happy easter.

Word Count: 4800+

Summary: Questionable decisions, perfect marks, crumpled essays, daddy Dutch not knowing how to handle teasing, sweet and indecent comments, awkward conversations and strange proposals.

Part: 1 | 2

Consider supporting the writer and donating to my Ko-Fi!

When you were offered the student aid position, this wasn’t exactly what you had in mind — not really, no. You were glad, of course — a student aid position was going to send your GPA over the clouds —, but you didn’t expect to be assigned as Mr. Van der Linde’s aid, and even more surprising of you to accept it. When you knocked on the office door, still as dark and riddled with books as you could remember it, he didn’t seem surprised or startled when you slipped in carrying the essays of your fellow classmates.

He didn’t seem particularly surprised neither, when you put the papers on his desk with a sheepish smile, asking in a mellow voice, “will you be needing anything else, sir?”

“My dear,” he started, leaning back on his chair, the perfect vision of temptation — suit jacket discarded, dark-navy waistcoat hugging his lean frame tightly and white shirt rolled up to the elbows. “I’d like to ask you a very serious question.”

The smile on your face cooled, nearly disappearing, and you had to shift from one foot to the other. “Sir?”

Dutch cocked his head to the side, idly play with the gold rings on his thick fingers. “I have a theory,” he smirked now, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “and I’d like to test it out.”

“Oh?,” you prompted him on, fidgeting on the sleeve of your worn out wool cardigan.

“The outcome,” Dutch groaned, scratching his chin, a very self-pleased aura about himself, “will depend entirely on you; or might I say how you’re going to do, shall you decide to accept it, my dear.”

You gnawed on your lower lip, skin prickling slightly in anticipation. “Sir?”

“I will write you a commendation letter, my girl,” he spoke offhandedly, smirking when your eyes widened a little. “That shall be enough for your honorable mention, if that’s really what you want.”

“My commendation letter?,” your eyes widened then, urging him on, too curious for your own good.

Dutch now smirked, clearly amused at your expense, “but bear in mind, sweetheart,” he held his gaze at you, examining your smaller frame from head to toes, “I do not do favors for my students.” This sent your mind to a screeching halt, tumbling and crashing to the walls of your better judgment. He simply cocked his head to the side, now looking at your face. “I prefer to say… we’re here to help each other.”

You frowned slightly, somewhat flustered and sensing the oncoming blow to the conversation — one that you were sure would rattle you to the bones —, and so you stayed quiet.

The man looked at the papers on top of his desk, hand coming up to rub his thumb on his bottom lip. “You just picked those up?”

“I—,” you stuttered, following his gaze, “yes, um… I did, these are the essays from last week, although I think some in the class didn’t hand it in time—“

He touched the pile of papers, apparently counting the number of students under his tutoring that had followed through with the activity. “It’s enough.”

Again, you frowned. “Enough?”

“How badly do you want to graduate, Y/N?,” Dutch asked at last, turning his dark and brooding gaze to you, an eyebrow cocking up at your clear absence of response. “It’ll be a year from now, I reckon?”

“Ah— yes, it…,” you staggered slightly, “that’s… right.”

He hummed then, nodding as if satisfied with your response. “You have a thesis advisor yet?”

“What’s the point of this, professor Daniel?,” you snapped, the rebellious streak surfacing in your voice as you challenged him. You weren’t just a pretty instrument to be played by him.

“I have a proposition for you,” he continued, not paying mind to your little outburst — and looking very unimpressed, in fact. “I’ll advise your thesis, since I know you haven't found an advisor yet — and I do believe your project is interesting.”

Dumbfounded, you blinked. What were you supposed to say to him now?

“Sir, I’m very thankful—“

“Don’t thank me yet,” Dutch waved his hand at you, dismissing your gratefulness. “As I said before, this isn’t a favor. I’m going to give you something that you want and you, my beautiful girl, are going to give me something that I want.”

You swallowed nervously, the slow beating of the antique clock way too loud in the room. It felt too unreal, and yet cliché — something to be expected, really, but it was hard to believe that it was happening to you. “And… what… what is it that you want?”

Dutch seemed very pleased at your question, resting his head back at the cushioned chair with a light smirk. He looked at you with half-lidded eyes, taking in your whole figure deliberately as if summoning the words he wanted to say before actually verbalizing them. “Many things, but for now, I think I’d like to have a smoke.”

Changing your weight from one foot to another, you fidgeted with the sleeve of your cardigan once more. “A… smoke?”

“Get my cigarettes for me,” Dutch huffed, somewhat amused at your confusion; pointedly looking downwards to his front pocket. “And don’t make me repeat myself.”

Gawking at him, you then snapped and gasped indignantly. “I’m not—“

“You will,” he spoke firmly, watching you darkly, like a wolf ready to pounce. “You will, won’t you?,” his head cocked to the side, “you want to please me. This is your chance.”

You pressed your lips together, fingers flexing restlessly as you weighed your actual options. Should you? Where was this leading to? How long had he been planning this? Is this why you were offered the position as an aid? This couldn’t possibly be ethical—

“Don’t think too hard,” Dutch said finally, looking somewhat caring, but also impatiently waiting for you to move. “Just do as I say.”

Taking the first step forward felt way harder than it should’ve been, and you did it meekly — not daring to look him in the eyes for longer than a couple seconds. He smiled, pleased as you got to his side with a furious blush creeping up your cheeks, and you hesitated for a second; leaning into him for your hand to slip into the left pocket of his chalk-stripe navy dress pants.

Dutch watched you with half-lidded eyes, dark and predatory as only he could be, and the glint there wasn’t missed when your hand brushed the inside of his thigh; doing your best not to touch the obvious bulge of his cock through the linen of his fancy three-piece suit. Your pinkish blush turned into a crimson one when you took hold of the cigarette pack and the man spread his thighs with a quiet sigh at your feather light touch.

“Thank you, my girl,” he spoke easily, taking the carton box from your hands without much of a fuss, the cigarette making its way to his lips in a well known motion — and you stood there, too anxious to move; but also incredibly… hot.

He looked at you then, lightening the cigarette and taking a deep drag. The smirk spread further and you felt small and somewhat silly standing there, behind his dark mahogany desk and next to him. It still felt surreal. “I’m going to correct the essays now.”

Sensing it in the air, you asked somewhat hesitantly, “would you want me to leave?”

Dutch scoffed, taking another drag before answering. “You’re staying,” he moved the papers to his line of eyesight, skimming over them before fixing you with an expectant stare. “Sit, girl,” he patted his thigh.

You stared blankly at him, unbelieving. “… Dut—“

“Come, now,” he flipped the page of the first paper, reading over it, “you do know I don’t enjoy saying the same thing twice,” the red pen scribbled something over the paper, his cigarette burning lazily at the corner of his mouth and he blew a small cloud of smoke. “Don’t you want to do me proud, mhm?,” he flicked the cigarette on the crystal ashtray, fixing you with an expectant stare. “Do as daddy says, sweetheart.”

With your lower lip trembling, you felt your will melt away. Dutch put out the cigarette, stretching a hand out towards you — which you took, shy; but willing. He smiled, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, touch warm and calloused on your skin. You slid into his lap, legs on each side of his thigh as Dutch adjusted you weight on top of him; his hand pulling your waist against him. “Now, there is a good girl, don’t you think?,” he purred into your ear, the minty smell of his aftershave mixing with the smoky tobacco. “Aren’t you?”

“I…,” you whispered, feeling very small and exposed there on his lap. What if someone came in and saw you like this? But Dutch pressed his face to the side of your neck, nose brushing the skin and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blushed, trying hard not to squeal at the prickling of his stubble. “… ah, yes.”

“That’s it,” you felt the smile in his voice, his hand caressing up your thigh and riding your black pleated skirt up, nonchalant and confident. You fought the will to push his hand away, not because you felt uncomfortable but because it was embarrassing — and very lewd in a certain way. “Cute little thing, you are.”

You let out a low keening sound, sighing as he leaned forwards to pay attention on the papers; your eyes barely registering the words he wrote on them and the scribbling in red ink; grades being assigned that easily and effortlessly. That made you squirm on his lap, your own hand coming down to rest on his knee between your legs. “Dutch…”

He didn’t reply, ignoring you instead; turning the page with a single and well-practiced move. You frowned, pressing your lips together as the pen came down to scribble more on the paper; and his other hand brushed up your thigh once more, sliding under the soft fabric of your skirt and the soft skin between your legs. “Dutch—“

“Try again, sweetheart,” the man whispered back at you, picking up another essay, “you’re smarter.” His hand squeezed the flesh of your thigh, fingers digging into it as he pulled you more fully against his crotch. “I know you are.”

You breathed in sharply then, both hands flying to grasp at his forearm and wrist between your legs. “D— daddy…?”

“Smart girl,” Dutch praised, now brushing his thumb at the front of your panties and making you squirm, unconsciously pushing back at his lap. You leaned forwards, head low and eyes closed with a deep frown at the new sensation, at him toying and complimenting you — and it was a surprise, really, how easily he had managed to push you around. “You’re not just a pretty little thing,” he quipped at you, voice low and sultry. “You’re smart and want to be praised, isn’t it? Is that why you keep making little mistakes, taking up too much work, baby?”

Dutch cooed at your answering whimper, brushing his fingers over your sex and cotton panties frustratingly on the way. “Do you want me to notice you?,” the man asked, lips touching the back of your neck. “Want daddy to give you some attention?”

You pushed back on his hand, not entirely sure if you should focus on it or the leg between yours; his half hard cock straining at your constant rocking. “Daddy, I—“

His hand grasped at your waist, hugging you to his chest as to keep you from moving too much; and you let out a low, frustrated drawl at it. “You squirm too much,” Dutch hummed, hints of amusement in his voice. “Makes me think you’re almost enjoying this, no?”

“Maybe,” you answered, voice low and tiny compared to his, and when you opened your eyes you saw another two essays graded on your right. “It feels good— daddy...”

“It does, doesn’t it?,” Dutch kissed your neck again, hand around you moving and fingers now rubbing a slow teasing circle over your pussy — and you weren’t ashamed to admit it, you were wet. “You like it, sweetheart?”

You leaned back on his chest now, turning your face to bury it into his neck and you could feel the way he had tensed up; the hand that had been correcting the papers stilling for the moment — but you couldn’t care. You moaned, canting your hips upwards towards his touch with a burning need.

“Stop,” Dutch spoke in a warning tone, pulling his hand away from between your legs to rest it on your waist as to still your body, and you whined; pushing back on him in a deliberate move. You could feel the firmness of his cock, outlined by the expensive dress pants, pushing against the side of your hip insistently as you tried to chase the sensation. “I said,” he hissed then, letting go of his pen and wrapping his long fingers around your neck, “stop, girl.”

Whimpering, you tried to squirm to no avail upon his lap; hands grasping on the fabric of his trousers and squeezing tightly. “No, I— just… I want—“

“And now we want things, do we?,” Dutch condescended on you, caressing your exposed neck and collarbone. “My, you’re feisty aren’t you?”

You frowned, trying to move and hump on him again, but his hold on you only tightened. “Daddy—“

“How do we say when we want something, sweetheart?,” he hissed into your ear and you could feel your body melt at the term of endearment that slipped from his lips as sweetly as threateningly. “Won’t you show me your manners?”

With a shaky gasp, you stilled and tried to debate if this was what you really should do, coming to the self-assured recognition that even if you didn’t want to do this, you’d be lying. Did you want to? Yes. But should you? The answer didn’t matter.

“Oh, please daddy,” you mewled, lips trembling and eyes watering with want, “I need more—“

“Do you, now?,” he mused, more to himself, and you felt the rough brush of his chin against the sensitive back of your neck, goosebumps raising through your body, “what is it that you so desperately need, then?”

“… you, daddy,” you answered promptly, closing your eyes in frustration and embarrassment, dreading the words about to leave your mouth, “inside me.”

Dutch breathed in sharply, the only visible sign that he was as affected by this as you, and the grasp around you slackened. “Stand.”

You turned around to look at him, confused. Had you gone too far? Misread what he had wanted from you? What if—

“I said stand, girl,” he punctuated it by squeezing the flesh of your thigh firmly, voice dark and threatening, “now.”

Scrambling off of his lap, you got on your feet with wobbly knees and your skirt riding up your waist and rumpling the nice white blouse you had picked for the day. The dark-red woolen cardigan dangled precariously from one of your shoulders and when you turned around to look at the man, meek and anxious, he all but smiled.

“Off with it,” Dutch pointed at your cardigan as he moved to unbutton his vest, briskly shaking it off — and God, something about seeing him wearing a crisp white dress shirt with rolled up sleeves was—, “and don’t make me say it twice.”

Jumping into action, you slipped off the soft coat and allowed it to pool around your feet on the floor, shuffling off your slippers at the same time. Dutch hummed appreciatively, coaxing you forwards and closer to him.

“You’re just so pretty, aren’t you?,” he whispered, hand warm and calloused as it slipped between your thighs and squeezed the softness of your skin, “blooming with it, just begging to be plucked.”

You closed your eyes, allowing him to wander with his caressing and moaning softly. “Daddy…”

Dutch hummed in reply, fingers inching upwards and hooking on the underside of your panties — and you were ashamed to admit at how wet they already were just from the light touching and the teasing he’s given you so far. “Look at you, sweetheart,” he whispered, smiling at your full-body shiver, “all wet for me.”

His fingertips pressed to the tender flesh of your thighs once more before he decided to move upwards, hooking them into your soft-cotton blue panties and dragging it down in a long and deliberate moment, one that almost felt… intimate. You reached out, to hold onto his shoulders to keep your balance as you stepped out of them and he pressed a light kiss to your forearm, pulling the piece of clothing from you — and you weren’t entirely sure where it went to, but it didn’t matter now.

“Be good now,” he whispered to you, calloused hands pushing your just above the knee skirt further up, rumpling the white shirt you had carefully chosen for today, “behave and you’ll have fun, my dear.”

You bit your lower lip, feeling the soft caress of the hem of the skirt caressing your backside. It was hard to keep quiet like that, even more so when Dutch leaned back, smiling at you; as if admiring his handiwork. He cocked his head to the side, hand coming up to scratch at his chin as if in thought; the warm glint of his ringers impossible to miss.

“Off with the shirt,” he demanded, dark and imposing, “I want to see you.”

No hesitation this time — mostly because you were looking forward the “fun” that he had promised —, you unbuttoned the shirt, the unmatching bra — a lacy baby pink with white peeking from below the fabric when you were ready to shrug it off; and you did, the fabric pooling on top of your cardigan and slippers discarded earlier. When you moved to undo your bra, Dutch stopped you with a wave of his hand.

“Keep it for now, sweetheart. You look precious like that,” he drawled, clearly proud at how readily you had complied to his request. The man eyed the remaining essays on top of his desk, looking back at you with unhurried ease, hands coming down to undo the buckle of his belt in a deliberate and uncaring motion. “Do you want to sit on daddy’s lap now?”

You blushed further, trying not to look down at his lap where he obviously had freed himself, hands slowly pumping his cock to a full erection. With a meek voice, you cast your eyes to the side, whispering, “yes, daddy.”

“Come here, baby,” Dutch called in a hushed tone, urging you further to his lap as to sit there facing him this time. His hand cradled your hip, curling there and squeezing softly as the other disappeared down below, a finger dipping into your pussy to check for wetness before taking a hold of himself, “you’ll be a good girl for daddy, won’t you?”

Squirming, your let out a broken whimper and clutched to his shoulders with a furrow on your brow, “yes…”

“You’ll sit here,” he spoke, voice demanding attention, as if in one of his classes, “and daddy will finish correcting the papers.” At this, you pouted, the protest blooming in your chest dying out as soon as Dutch cupped your cheek, “yes, yes, hush now,” he smiled, drawing his thumb down as to press it in your mouth and you instinctively ran your tongue over the pad, sucking on it. “And once daddy’s done, he’s going to fuck you silly, do you understand?”

With a begrudging nod, you agreed to his words — because what else could you do? No wasn’t something you wanted to say, not now anyways. “Okay, daddy.”

Dutch huffed a breath, cocking his head to the side with an expectant smirk, “what else?”

Your eyes widened, the flush spreading further down your exposed neck and ears — and when you tried to look away from him, his fingers pulled your face back to his, his eyes focused on you.

“I’m… thank… thank you, daddy.”

The smile widened then, Dutch apparently satisfied at your display of submission, and the hand on your hip pulled you down and towards his chest — your head resting against the crook of his neck as you sunk onto his cock; slowly, steadily, inch by inch, making you gasp and shiver, clinging onto his shirt at the intrusive sensation. It stung a bit, not enough to make it unpleasant, but more than enough to remind of how full you were at the moment.

Dutch ran his big hand over your back, soothing and gentle like you didn’t imagine he’d be capable of — and that made you shiver, moaning quietly and clinging harder to him, your knees sinking into the warm leathery seat of his desk chair. He shushed you quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple as he rummaged through the papers; the moving of his thighs under yours enough to make you want to cry out and rock down on him.

When you were offered the position as student aid, that wasn’t what you had in mind — no, not at all in fact. Gulping nervously you squirmed, painfully embarrassed, although not enough to turn away on the affair, sitting snugly on his lap; Dutch’s fingertips caressing the soft skin of your thigh below the skirt. You keened lowly then, trying to get more of his cock inside by pressing down on him, unconsciously clenching around it with needy lust and—

“Don’t be greedy now,” Dutch admonished you, stilling your hips with a heavy hand, “be a good girl for daddy. You wanted this, remember?”

You whimpered weakly, tucking your head under his chin with a weak nod, core trembling in need — and by god, he felt so firm and big under you, a constant reminder of how Mr. Van der Linde could just up and fuck you against the mahogany desk of his office, manhandle you and whisper dirty things in your ear and—

“Daddy,” you moaned quietly into the skin of his neck, yet he seemed unphased by it. “Please—“

“Don’t,” Dutch answered, a hand snaking down to brush lightly on your clit and you bucked up on it; only to have his hand squeezing on your waist to remind you to stay still.

The steady scratching of the pen on paper kept going, Dutch sighing in deep thought and paying no mind to you or your soft complaints; even as you shivered at the obvious huff of breath on your shoulder. There was the rustle of paper on his desk and, at the same time, the hand down under your skirt moved to squeeze the supple skin of your thigh. You pursed your lips, closing your eyes as you tensed up to keep from moving too much on his lap — and he still paid no mind to you.

You pressed down again, whimpering quietly and pulling at the roots of hair at the base of his head in a desperate plea for release. Dutch hummed in annoyance, muttering a quiet “let go, princess,” and when you pretended not to hear it, the hand on your thigh moved and delivered a soundly slap to your backside. You yelped, bucking up in surprise, soon followed by a low whine.

“You naughty little thing,” Dutch huffed, kneading the tingling skin, “you know better than to defy daddy like that. Don’t act up on me, princess,” he whispered now, breath past his lips brushing against the shell of your ear and making you shiver, “unless you’re sure you can handle it.”

Dutch leaned forwards, the change in angle making it all feel so much deeper inside of you, the pressure nearly overwhelming. You keened quietly, squeezing his shoulders once more as a dark chuckle rolled out of his tongue.

“What a pretty essay you put up this time.”

What.

“You can’t be…,” you turned around taking a look at the paper in front of him, your name printed out at the top of the page. Your gaze turned to him, eyes wide as embarrassment took over.

“You should stay really quiet if you want daddy to focus and grade you accordingly, don’t you think?,” he mocked, the fingers on your waist drumming up your back, undoing your bra with the help of his other hand. “After all, your GPA looks so pretty now…”

It was true, that getting the position as a student aid had sent your GPA over the clouds, but he wouldn’t—

“Please,” you pleaded, somewhat desperate, “I’ll be quiet, I promise—“

Dutch smiled then, pulling the bra from your shoulders and tossing it to the side with a pleased sigh, calloused palms cupping your breasts tenderly, almost lovingly. “Good girl,” he groaned, kneading the soft flesh slowly before looking up at you with a smug smile. “Won’t you give daddy a kiss to show how grateful you are?”

With a quiet moan, you leaned forwards, one arm lacing around his neck while the other curled between your bodies; fingers brushing the sharp line of the man’s jaw. The kiss, when it came, was sweet and intoxicating — and you tried to ignore the fact that you were to kiss the man now, for the first time, after he’s already bottomed out in your pussy. Dutch sighed, pleased and languid, unable to avoid the unconscious thrust of his hips up into the inviting warmth of your sex.

“Daddy—,” you whimpered, kiss turning from a gentle ember to a roaring fire at the quiet groaning from the man below you, “I’ll be good, I—“

“Yes,” Dutch agreed heatedly, fingers digging into the skin of your buttocks and pulling you down onto him, “yes, a good girl aren’t you?”

You gasped at it then, as he started to move you on his cock; and your hips soon followed the desperate rhythm. He leaned back, moaning lowly as you pushed down on him, clinging to the crispy whiteness of his dress shirt.

“Look at you,” he growled, a palm coming up to cup your cheek rather roughly — but you didn’t mind, you didn’t—, “such a sweet little thing, aren’t you?”

You nodded, face burning hot at the sensation of his hand on it, blushing furiously; a sob blossoming from deep within your chest as he hugged your smaller frame into his chest with a trembling huff. “Oh, God—“

“My girl,” came the answering groan and you felt the hand on your face move to cradle your head to his chest, holding you there in a protective and somewhat selfish manner, “you’re making daddy so proud, sweetheart.”

Dutch pushed up, your body still held within his grasp as he set you on the table; the cool surface of the dark desk raising goosebumps on your skin. The papers scattered, some sliding off, others crumpling under you or simply floating away, but neither of you cared, you couldn’t—

“Fuck,” the man cursed, pressing his body snugly to yours, the head of his cock pushing in somewhat too deep, “feel so good, baby—“

Whimpering, you closed your eyes, arching your body up and digging your fingers into the exposed skin of his forearm; other hand wrapping around the back of his neck in a vice grip. The desk rattled at the first few thrusts, Dutch holding your hips down against it to keep you still and pliant under him.

“Please,” you gasped out, desperately clinging to him, legs lacing around his, “please—“

He all but snickered, looking down at you with wonder. Dutch pressed his thumb into your mouth again, pleased to see that you complied and started suckling on it; brows furrowed and eyes closed. “You want to cum, sweetheart?”

You nodded, whining lowly and arching your hips up for a better angle, and Dutch pressed a soft kiss to your chest; thrusting purposeful and languid to get the most out of it from you, but it was when he pressed a finger — the thumb previously in your mouth — down on your clit that your release came, flaming hot and desperately sweet at the same time. And at that, you cried out, curling under him as he kept going to let you ride out the final waves of your blissful orgasm, still shaking and breathless under him—

“Shit—,” Dutch groaned, pulling out and before you could ask why, you felt the hot splash of his seed on your thigh, hand coming down to jerk his spent cock a couple more times. You closed your eyes, basking in the bliss of release, bare chested and exposed on his desk with your legs still wrapped around your professor.

“Thank you, daddy,” you whispered, smiling at yourself when Dutch huffed out a laugh above you, the sound sweet and endearing in a way you couldn’t quite place your finger at.

And when he put out the grades on the notice board next week, claiming that the essays were to be kept by the graduation Dean, you simply smiled at your perfect mark.

#dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde imagine #red dead redemption #red dead redemption imagine #saucy #professor series #fanfic

122 notes · View notes

filmfanatic82 · 5 years

Photo

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 15: ...For Loving You and Hating Myself

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“I said shut up, Taylor.”

“But that’s a yes… Right?”

“Yes, you idiot. It's a yes. What else would it be?”

“YES!”

The familiar sounds of Zack’s whoops of excitement echo throughout the confines of Trini’s mind as she drifts in and out of consciousness.

Finally…

He finally popped the question.

Thank fuckin’ god.

Out of everyone, Zack and Tommi deserve some happiness.

“You cool if I go tell the guys?”

“You haven’t told them already?”

“Sorta.”

“Sorta?”

Trini picks up on Tommi’s trademark annoyed but secretly amused sigh and then--

“Go tell everyone.”

“Sweet… I love you. Like a lot… A whole lot… More than a lot… Like--”

“I get it. I love you too.”

Trini can feel her lips curl into a smile as she moves closer and closer to being fully awake.

Good for them.

Wonder if Tommi’s gonna want a big…

Wait.

Fuck.

Tommi.

If she can hear Tommi’s voice then that means…

Trini’s eyes pop wide open. “Tommi??”

“Hey, Small Fry,” Tommi replies without missing a beat. There’s an audible rustle of bed sheets followed by a clear thud of bare feet on metal. Trini attempts to push herself up in the small medical bay bed but is hit with a harsh tsunami of pain. It radiates across her body, lighting every last nerve she has on fire.

“Ugh… Fuck,” Trini groans as she falls back into the pillow.

“Hurting?” Tommi emerges into Trini’s line of sight and immediately goes about re-adjusting the pillows underneath Trini’s head.

“Yeah.” Trini lets out a heavy sigh and relinquishes all control to Tommi as she helps prop Trini up in the bed. “Just a little sore. That’s all. How about you? Are you okay?”

“Still alive and kicking,” Tommi replies with a bit of a smirk. She takes a seat on the edge of Trini’s bed and then reaches out and lovingly ruffles Trini’s hair. “You on the other hand… Think you can quit it with this almost dying shit? Cause it’s really getting old…”

“Hey! You were the one that stopped breathing, not me.” Trini playfully swats Tommi’s hand away and re-fixes her hair.

“Hart’s handiwork?”

“Yeah… But stop changing the subject. You sure you’re okay? You… You were--”

“T,” Tommi stops Trini. She places her hand down upon Trini’s and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m okay. Maybe not as okay as I would be if that bastard hadn’t stolen my coin, but nonetheless I’m here. And in one piece… Which is better off than the rest of us. Have you seen Zack? He looks like freakin’ Quasimodo. I’m praying none of that is permanent cause otherwise our wedding photos are going to need some major re-touching.”

Tommi catches herself just as the words leave her mouth and suddenly looks up at Trini in sudden shock. “I’m getting married.”

“Yeah you are,” Trini laughs in response.

“You heard him?”

“No… Not really… Only caught the tail end of it.”

“I can’t believe it,” Tommi says. She runs her hands through her wild mane of curls and then glances down at the simple yet elegant diamond ring on her finger. “I always just figured I would have to man up for him one of these days and just do it, but… But he really did it.”

“Of course he did. He loves you.”

“I love him too.” Tommi responds with a rare sense of vulnerability to her voice. “Just like Kim loves you.”

A momentary silence falls between Trini and Tommi as Trini starts to absentmindedly fidget with the tattered edges of the medical bay blanket. She can feel Tommi’s eyes upon her. Just looking on and patiently waiting for a response. As she always does whenever she drops an emotionally charged statement into their conversations.

Trini lets out a sigh and then--

“She told me everything…”

“And?”

“And… I… I just caved.”

Tommi lets a chuckle slip out at this statement. “Well, that part’s obvious.”

“It is?”

“Seriously? T, you guys up and disappear for a few hours and then when you pop back up you’re rocking a Kimberly Hart special and wreak of sex.”

“Do not,” Trini fires back causing Tommi to shoot her one of her notorious deadpan stares. “Fine… Okay… We had sex.”

“Thank you. So… How was it? Spare me the details. Just on a scale from one to ten. What was it?”

“Which time?” Trini sighs. She buries her head a bit more into the pillow, avoiding eye contact with Tommi.

“Touche.”

“It was a solid 20. Every time. Except for that last one. But only cause we were interrupted by Jason. He teleported into the bar right as Kim was about to--”

“Wait… Hold up… Did you say bar? As in my bar?!”

Trini lifts her head out of the pillow and sinks her teeth down into her bottom lip. She gives Tommi a tiny nod in response. “Sorry?”

“Jesus, T!” Tommi grabs hold of the pillow from behind Trini’s head and playfully smacks her with it.

“Ow… Hey! It’s not like I planned it. It just sorta happened.”

“You sorta had sex on my bar?!”

“Five times,” Trini sheepishly responds and instantly braces as Tommi swats her once again with the pillow.

“Shit. I’m gonna have to burn that bar now, aren’t I?” Tommi asks shoving the pillow back at Trini.

“No. But maybe just give it an extra scrub down or two… with tons of bleach?”

“Oh hells no,” Tommi responds with an indignant snort. “That’s all on Zack. He can have the honor of sanitizing yours and Hart’s makeshift sex den.

Trini laughs at these words and Tommi can’t help but join in.

“I’m happy for you, T. I really am. You and Hart deserve each other. Always have. Now we just need to figure out a way outta this nightmare and convince her to ditch that douche of a boyfriend and--”

“What did you say?”

“Huh?” Tommi stops laughing. “Douche of a boyfriend?”

“No. Before that?” Trini asks as the look of confusion deeps upon her face. She pushes a few loose strays of her hair out of her eyes and hones in on Tommi. “What did you say?”

“Nightmare?”

Nightmare…

Is that is? No. Scratch that. There’s no such thing as a joint nightmare.

Right?

Not between six people.

Six plus Max.

Oh god…

Max.

“T?” Tommi questions with more than a hint of concern. “What’s going on?”

“You know about the Epithymía stone, right?”

Tommi nods. “The rock that’s causing this shithow. Yeah. Billy gave us the heads up about it right before the attack. What about it?”

“It was in the house.”

“What?” Tommi blurts out unable to hide her reaction. “How did you know where--”

“Cause I found it. On Thanksgiving night. Before I came to the bar. I was in the woods by the quarry that night and spotted it buried within a tree trunk. I thought it looked odd so I pocketed it and was planning on shows you guys but… But I got sidetracked and…” Trini trails off as the dots suddenly connect all at once.

It’s not a nightmare.

No. It’s a wish.

The night at the bar. When the girl who looked like Kimberly was going down on her in the back alley.

She made a wish.

And the stone…

The stone was in her pocket.

She made a wish and activated the stone.

“Fuck.” Trini stares at Tommi as her stomach begins to violently churn with a sickening guilt. “I’m the one to blame for all of this. I made a wish.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

C’mon, Gomez.

Must run faster.

Screw the pain.

Only 50 yards left.

“Hold up!”

But Trini doesn’t even attempt to slow down let alone respond to Tommi’s shouts. There’s just no time. She needs to get to the morphing grid and inform the others.

Trini flies down the ship’s corridor, bare feet pounding hard against the cool metallic floor as her anxiety spirals out of control.

“Fuck, T. Slow down!”

“No,” Trini yells back with labored breath.

Fuck.

She’s really freakin’ fucked things up.

This is all her fault.

The storm.

The disappearances of Mamaji… And Bapu… Even Richard.

And Max…

Fuck.

She skids around the corner and bursts forth into the morphing grid, causing everyone’s heads to whip around in unison at the sudden interruption.

“T?” Kim is the first to speak up, eyes locking straight away in on Trini. A look of relief mixed with confusion sweeps across her face.

“Crazy girl!” Zack says with a warm smile. “You’re up!”

“Fucking hell, Small Fry. Didn’t you hear me shouting at you?” Tommi exclaims as she enters the morphing grid, clutching her side in slight pain.

“Trini, what’s--”

“I know what triggered it. The stone.” Trini blurts out, cutting Jason off mid-sentence. “It’s a wish. I made a wish the night I found it and the very next morning is when the storm started.”

“A what?” Kim asks.

“Like a legit wish?” Zack stares at Trini with knit brows. “Cause I wish for stuff all the time and it never comes true.”

“You’re missing the point,” Tommi responds with a sigh. “It’s the combo of the wish and that stone.”

“A wish. Why didn’t I think of that before. It all makes so much more sense now.” Billy heads over to one of the consoles and starts rapidly typing away on the main touch screen. “Alpha 5, can you go get me volume 14 of the Ranger Chronicles? It’s on my workbench.”

“Sure, Master Billy,” Alpha 5 says and then scurries out of the morphing grid.

“What makes sense?” Jason follow up, trying to grab hold of Billy’s attention.

“The entity associated with the Epithymía stone. It’s a Jinn. That’s why it was activated with a wish,” Billy rambles on as he continues to tap away at the screen.

“Gin? As in Gin and Tonic?” Zack questions.

“No. It’s not an alcoholic beverage. It’s a spirit. A Jinn is one of the three predominate spirits that can be found within ancient Islam. You have angels which are innately good and adversely demons that are innately evil and then Jinns. They are agnostic and could go either way depending on what they are called to do. Their actions are driven by the desires of mortals.”

“Like a wish…” Trini says under her breath.

“Yes. Exactly. A wish. It’s--”

“Wait a minute… Are you talking about a Genie?” Tommi interrupts with a tone of sheer disbelief to her voice.

“Technically the term Genie is an anglicized version of Jinn, but yes, you could roughly consider it to be within the same realms more or less.”

“We should just call you Aladdin, Crazy Girl,” Zack chimes in.

“No,” Trini deadpans.

“And that would make Kimmie here Princess Jasmine!”

“Babe…” Tommi warns sensing the ever growing tension in the room.

“Not funny,” Trini responds through gritted teeth.

“Okay, so if this thing were dealing with is indeed a Jinn, then why all the attacks?” Jason unconsciously rubs the back of his neck. “And why would it go after our power coins?”

“Well, I think it might be…” Billy comes to an abrupt stop in a sudden epiphany. “Zordon?”

“Yes?” Zordon’s head materializes on the wall before them and surveys the room with an unsettling stare. There’s a underlying tiredness to his features that Trini has yet to notice until this very moment. As if the never ending cycle of unknown threats and danger is finally catching up to him.

“You mentioned that the last time the Epithymía stone was activated, the entity targeted the Green Ranger.”

“If my recollection serves me correct, yes it did,” Zordon responds.

“And it’s safe to say that out of all of our power coins, the green one is the most corruptible?”

“Hey!” Tommi pipes up. “We’ve been over this before. I’m not--”

“No. No. That’s not what… It’s not about you… It’s the nature of the coin itself. The Jinn specifically went after the green coin because of the accessibility factor. The makeup of the green coin is different than the rest of ours and for some unbeknownst reason that makes it hackable by other entities. Entities that aren’t us. And by tapping into it, it has indirect access to--”

“The rest of us. The Ranger bond. That’s why we’re so weak, isn’t it? It’s tapping into the rest of us through the bond and draining us,” Jason finishes Billy’s thought, piecing the puzzle together.

Billy’s face lights up in a smile and can’t help but clap his hands in utter excitement at the fact that someone else is finally seeing what he does. “Exactly! It’s feeding off of our power. The more it drains, the stronger it gets.”

“And then…”

“Destroy the world,” Zack says in a mock announcers voices that causes Tommi to instantly slap him upside the head and shake her head in sheer disbelief.

“What?” Zack shrugs his shoulders. ”It’s the truth.”

“Great. So what you’re saying is that we’re just a bunch of human batteries for a deranged genie who wants to strip us of our power?” Tommi asks as she runs her hands through her hair and lets out a frustrated sigh. “How the hell are we supposed to fight that?”

A sobering silence settles upon the group as they each let the reality of those words sink in.

They can’t fight it.

That’s the answer.

If it were anything else Zordon would’ve said it be now.

That’s why he’s so silent.

They’re screwed and it’s all her fault.

If only she hadn’t taken that stone…

If only she…

“Trini?” Kim asks finally breaking the silence. “What did you wish for?”

And Trini can’t bring herself to look Kim in the eyes. Instead she lets out a shaky breath of air, trying her best to hold back the fresh set of tears forming in her eyes. “I wished for you to suffer like I have.”

The silence is all but suffocating as no one dares to even breathe let alone utter a word in response.

Please say something…

Please…

For the love of god…

Anything…

Fuck.

I’m…

“I’m sorry,” Trini says in nothing more than a whisper and then without even once glancing up at the rest of the group, proceeds to walk herself out of the morphing grid.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Trini sits on the bottom bunk bed in her and Kim’s old crash room in the ship, head buried deep within her hands. She’s not quite sure of just how long she's been sitting there. Ten minutes. Maybe twenty.

It doesn't matter anymore.

None of it does.

All that really matter is that she's fucked up… Yet again.

At least this time though she wasn't fully aware of it.

Silver lining, right?

But how the hell is she going to fix this?

Think, Gomez, think.

There has to be a way.

No. Scratch that. There must be.

It's not like she can undo her wish… Can she?

Even if she did though Kimberly would still probably never forgive her.

Not after all of this…

Not if they can’t get Mamaji… and Bapu… and Richard… and most of all Max back.

“There you are,” Kim quietly says making her presence known within the room. Trini lifts her head and is instantly greeted to the hint of a warm and sympathetic smile.

“Kim, I--”

“Stop.” Kim slowly makes her way over towards the bunk beds and takes a seat next to Trini. “No more apologizing.”

“But--”

“I mean it. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Kimberly…”

“Trinity…” Kim mirrors Trini’s tone. She scoots a bit closer and then ever so gently reaches over and runs her fingers through Trini’s hair.

“This is all my fault,” Trini sighs.

“No, it's not.”

“Kim, I--”

“This could've happened to any of us,” Kim responds.

“But it didn't. It happened to me. And I made a spur of the moment wish--”

“After I pretty much blindsided you by showing up unannounced with my son and boyfriend,” Kim finishes Trini’s sentence.

“Don’t you mean fiancee?”

“Not my point.” Kim shakes her head in amused disbelief. “My point is, this is technically more my fault than anyone else’s here. So if we’re going to blame anyone it should be me.”

“That’s insane. You didn’t make the wish.”

“And you weren’t the one whose actions triggered it in the first place.”

“Jesus, Kim. Can’t you just let me take the blame for this?” Trini says. She pushes herself up off of the bunk bed and starts to pace the cramped quarters. “I’m the one who found the stone… and caused everyone to disappear… and get hurt… and Max…”

“No.”

Trini stops dead in her tracks at the sound of the simple yet powerful word. “What?”

“I’m not letting you.”

“And just how are you gonna stop me, huh?”

But Kim doesn’t respond. She instead rises from the bunk bed and moves to close the distance between the two of them until there is barely an inch left of space. And Trini feels herself melt under the loving gaze of those chocolate brown eyes.

How can Kimberly be so forgiving?

So understanding?

She’s supposed to hate her?

To blame her for everything that’s happened?

But instead…

Instead…

Trini’s thoughts are cut short by the familiar sensation of Kim’s soft lips upon her own. The kiss is gentle and yet somehow speaks volumes as Kim cups Trini’s cheeks with her hands. And Trini gives in, fully letting Kim take the lead in every sense of the word.

Before Trini can register what’s transpiring, they are back on the bed again with Kim dominating each and every move. The crippling guilt that Trini has been slowly drowning in seems to sudden dissipate as Kim maps a path of tender kisses across the expanse of her body. Each one leaving an everlasting mark on Trini’s soul. Once again, it’s love. In its purest form. And it’s nothing short of overwhelming.

Tears begin to fall from Trini’s eyes causing Kim to momentarily pause. She carefully brushes them away with the pads of her thumbs and then places another light kiss on Trini’s lips. “Shh. It’s going to be okay, Mi Vida. I’ve got you.”

And that’s all Trini needs to hear to finally let go of the last ounces of guilt. She gives a small nod in response and then relaxes into the touch of the one person in the entire world that she loves the most…

Kimberly Ann Hart.

#trimberly #trini x kimberly #kimberly hart #trini #zack taylor #billy cranston #jason scott #power rangers #power ranger movie #wlw #ao3

52 notes · View notes

blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years

Text

The French Connection - Chapter 4

A HardyxMiller AU

Ellie Miller is left to go on her honeymoon alone after a devastating secret about her fiance comes to light - halfway through the wedding ceremony. Sitting in St Pancras International in London waiting for her train, she runs into none other than her uni rival/best friend Alec Hardy, on the run from his own recent heartbreak.

They decide to make use of Ellie’s pre-paid trip, rekindling their friendship and escaping real life; yet, it turns out their years at uni are the hardest to outrun. Based on this prompt from @timepetalscollective

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday and Sunday. Beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma

Masterlist | AO3

---

Despite Hardy’s playful jabs, Ellie had built free-time into the schedule for them to do as they pleased. Given that the trip had been intended as a honeymoon she had expected to spend that time in bed, but with Hardy as her travel companion instead, they decided to lounge by the hotel pool, relaxing and playing in the water, earning themselves plenty of disapproving glares from the other guests.

After showering and changing they headed out for the day, strolling past the Louvre again to the Place de la Concorde, where the Champs-Elysee began. The most famous street in Paris, they quickly located a café charming enough for Ellie’s standards and had pastries for lunch.

Once fed they continued on down the boulevard towards l’Arc de Triumphe, Ellie oohing and aahing at all the expensive shops they passed.

“Can you imagine having the money to spend along here?” she wanted to know, when he all but forcefully dragged her away from a Louboutin shop. “To just shop to your heart’s content, money no issue. As much as I love my job, I can’t deny I wouldn’t mind a better salary.”

“We’re not in it for the money,” Hardy rolled his eyes, palm pressed firmly between her shoulder blades in an attempt to keep her walking straight without getting sidetracked. “Besides, this is all just… stuff. It’s not inherently better than more reasonably-priced items, people just think it is ‘cause it’s got a ‘name’. Who cares?”

Ellie peered up at him, smirking slightly. “So you have no interest in that Paul Smith store?”

His head automatically turned in the direction she gestured, before his back stiffened and he glared down at her. “Not funny.”

“There actually was one, next block over from the Tuileries.”

“Shut up, Miller,” he fell back on an old standby, before pointing at a store front. “Don’t you have something from ‘Lou-is Vut-ton’ already?”

“Oooh!”

Once they reached Place Charles de Gaulle, they stopped to stare at the roundabout, with easily a hundred cars flying around and off onto one of the dozen streets that spread out from there.

“How the hell are we supposed to get over there?” Hardy wanted to know, staring incredulously at the throngs of people inside the roped-off section of the circle, where the Arch itself sat. “Teleport? Walk through traffic? Call Mary fucking Poppins?”

Ellie shrugged, before a sign caught her eye and jogged her memory. “There’s a tunnel!”

“A tunnel?”

“Yes, a tunnel,” she repeated, already heading in that direction. “Keep up. It takes us under the roadway.”

He was muttering behind her but she paid him little attention, starting down the steps amid a throng of other sightseers. Barely three minutes later they came up just in front of the Arch, and having enough presence of mind to step out of the way, she stopped dead to gape.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” she whispered, yelping when someone brushed her elbow.

“It’s just me,” Hardy grumped. “Right, so what’s so special about this?”

She studied his face for a moment, before judging him to be more troublemaker than ignoramus. “Shut up. We’re going up to the top.”

“Why?” He trailed behind obediently anyway, as they joined the ticket queue. “What’s up there?”

“‘What’s up there?’” she mocked. “A gorgeous view of the city, feel the wind in your hair… honestly, you’ve been such a grump since we left the hotel. It’s Paris, just try to enjoy it and not be… you for a while, yeah?”

“Fine.” Hardy made a face and she made one right back, distracted out of her irritation by the small giggles of the children in line behind them. Smiling awkwardly at them she turned to face forward, glad to not be looking at Hardy when she overheard the conversation behind them.

“Mummy?” the little girl attempted to whisper, “Why were they arguing like that? Aren’t they happy to be here?”

The mother answered her daughter quietly, though clearly not quietly enough – “They weren’t arguing, they were bickering, like how Daddy and I do.”

“What does that mean?”

“That even people in love sometimes get annoyed with each other, but even when they say mean things, they still love each other, and they both know it, even if they don’t like each other in that moment.”

“Like when Daddy leaves the toilet seat up? Or Jason steals my Barbies?”

“Exactly.”

Ellie’s spine stiffened, listening, and she fought very hard not to peek at Hardy’s face to see if he’d heard.

In love? Us? Not bloody likely.

They took their time going back up the Champs-Elysee on the opposite side, Ellie doing her best not to look at or speak to Hardy any more than necessary, ideally without his noticing.

“The hell is wrong with you?” he finally asked, when they passed the third bakery in a row that Ellie gave no attention. “Was it that garbage you had for lunch? I said you’d regret it.”

Ellie scowled. “I am in France,” she said sternly, “so I am eating French food. Why is that such a difficult concept?”

“Then what’s the problem?”

He mustn’t have heard them talking behind us, she realized; she’d been too focused on avoiding him to notice he was no different. Thank God.

“I’m just thinking about dinner,” she lied, grimacing as she remembered the reservations they had.

“D’you have somewhere in mind?”

“Actually… I have reservations. Ones already paid for, unfortunately.”

“Where?”

Ellie gave him her best sweet smile, hoping in vain to butter him up. “Restaurant 58.”

He stopped dead, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow. “I’m not playing twenty fucking questions. Just tell me.”

“All right.” She tilted her head, walking again, waiting for him to catch up to say, “It’s on the first level of la Tour Eiffel. A guaranteed view of the Trocadero, the park that’s on the other side of the river that you always see in pictures of Paris.”

“Sounds romantic,” Hardy said cautiously, looking genuinely concerned. “You sure?”

“Already paid for,” she repeated. “And the weather’s supposed to be beautiful, thank God. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Please?”

He sighed, reluctantly unfolding his arms, before nodding. “‘Course. Your trip.”

“Brilliant!”

Once back at the room they started getting ready for an early-for-Paris seating, Ellie taking the shower first so Hardy could be in there while she fussed with her hair and makeup.

She was just struggling with her zipper when Hardy knocked on the door, and she called him in. “Perfect timing! Zip me up?” she asked, turning her back on him as he entered the room and sweeping her hair out of the way.

“Erm, sure.” He came up behind her, and she was hyper aware of him as nimble fingers pinched the dress together and pulled the zip up.

“There’s a button, too,” she mentioned, and he did that as well, before easing her long, loose tresses from her grip and fluffing them along her back, before smoothing his palms over her shoulders.

Ellie’s breath hitched, his touch stirring up surprising emotions. It was light, barely touching her, but she felt it like an electric shock, crackling through her.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, stepping away.

“Thanks. The dress is new.” Unsure of what to do with her hands she smoothed the skirt of the dress down. She’d bought it for the trip, a sexy little dress expected to make Joe’s knees weak. Navy blue and lace, the off-the-shoulder wide bands kept her neck and shoulders bare, perfect for a summer evening out. She felt beautiful and elegant, and utterly alone. Much as she’d tried to not dwell on it, and having succeeded most of the day, preparing for an admittedly romantic dinner had made her long for her almost-husband. The betrayal still stung, burned really, a dark mass in her gut that made her blood burn just to think of it, but forty-eight hours previous she’d been preparing to spend her life with the man.

That didn’t fade overnight, much as she prayed it would. She’d wasted three years of her life with Joe, hoping and planning for a future that had evaporated in a puff of smoke. She was angry, humiliated, a righteous indignation stiffening her spine. Yet the way Hardy looked at her, treated her as if nothing special or unusual had happened, helped. She didn’t want to be coddled, like her sister would’ve tried to do, or patronized and made to feel guilty and at fault, like her parents had berated her.

She wanted to be uni-Ellie again, challenged and equaled. Hardy would pull no punches, wouldn’t sugar-coat anything. He would just let her be in the moment.

“Ready?” he asked, shifting awkwardly and breaking her from her spell.

“Yes.” As they headed headed for the lift, she admired his navy suit, amused to find he’d coordinated himself with her dress.

“You look nice.”

“Thanks.” He offered her his arm, guiding her to the lobby as she ordered a car on her phone.

The Uber driver took the scenic path, which cut in front of the Louvre and passed the glass pyramid, making her smile at the famous sight. Crossing that bridge to the other bank they rode along the river, taking in the happy couples and families strolling along the path. Everything seemed so bright, and peaceful, and everything she’d hoped it would be.

“I have to let you off here,” their driver said abruptly. “Security reasons. Is this okay?”

“Fine, thanks,” Ellie smiled brightly, waiting until Hardy had slid out to follow him. They weren’t far, could easily see the tower, and she didn’t mind a little extra walk. Her heels were comfortable, and she was in Paris – c’est la vie.

Once on the sidewalk he offered her his arm again, and she had to admit as they walked that it improved the experience. “It’s nice, approaching on foot. Gives you more a sense of the magnitude.”

“It is pretty impressive, I suppose,” he agreed. “You know it was built as the entrance to the 1889 World’s Fair?”

“Really?”

“Everyone hated it. Was only permitted for twenty years, but by then it had become a landmark.”

“Hard to imagine Paris without it.”

“Right?”

Ellie had pre-printed tickets, so they were able to go to a special line that took them right up to the restaurant. The ride up the lift through the leg of the Tower was a thrill, and she was grinning widely by the time they stepped off. “This is gorgeous!”

The walls were all glass to improve the view, curving with the shape of the Tower. She’d paid for a guaranteed view of the Trocadero, and they only had to wait a few minutes to be seated. The restaurant was minimally decorated, subtle in design so as to not take away from the specialness of the location and views.

“This is nice,” Hardy admitted as they settled in their seats, taking in the view before looking at the menu.

“Right? It won’t get dark until we’re done, but once we are we can go outside – dinner included the price of the ticket for the Tower itself.”

“Great.”

They studied the menu, sitting in a calm silence until after their orders had been placed and their wine poured.

“Hang on,” Hardy blurted, as she brought wine glass to her lips.

“What?”

He held his own out towards her. “To… to finding the silver lining. Or the open window. Or whatever trite motivational fortune-cookie saying you prefer.”

“Well said.”

“Shut up. Point being…” Hardy hesitated a moment, glancing around the restaurant and out the window before settling his eyes on her, sincerity shining there. “I’m very glad I ran into you, and I’m happy to be here with you now. I hope you can say the same.”

A small smile bloomed on her face. “I can,” she said honestly. “Better to find out before the wedding rather than after, I suppose. And it is good to see you again.”

They clinked wine glasses, drinking to the strangest toast she’d ever heard.

And yet somehow it still felt right.

After a meal where the food was as enjoyable as the company, and an awe-inspiring sunset, they exited the restaurant onto the first level to join the throngs of other tourists trying to take in the city by moonlight.

Ellie’s good mood soured slightly; she’d had the naïve but romantic hope that somehow, she and Joe would be alone on the Tower after dinner, like something out of a movie. I should have expected this.

“El.” Hardy tugged her by the elbow, and she turned to him, frowning.

“What?”

But he had disappeared into the crowd, and sighing, she eased her way past the groups, mostly couples, in the direction he’d gone. Finally she found him at the steps up to the next level, waiting impatiently.

They went up together, Ellie clutching tightly to the handrail just to be safe, unused to climbing steps in heels. After the first dozen Hardy came onto her step, resting his hand on her back to offer support.

When they reached the second level, she looked up at him and said dryly, “We are so taking the lift down,” before noticing the view and promptly forgetting her complaint. “Oh, look at this.”

It was far less crowded on the second level, and they were able to find a relatively private spot. Ellie leaned against the railing, almost pressing her face to the protective lattice-work keeping anyone from falling. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah.” Hardy’s voice was heavy with emotion, the same way it had been the previous morning watching the sunrise, and she was afraid to look at him for a moment.

“Thank you. Thank you for coming with me. If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know if I would’ve gotten on the train,” she confessed, staring determinedly at a boat making its way along the river. “I probably would’ve just checked into a hotel and slept the week away, or something, and missed out on the beauty and wonder. God, to think I’d have given up the trip of a lifetime to Paris for a bloke.”

Hardy leaned against the railing beside her, sighing. “I had no idea where I was going to go. I’d even been considering going up to Glasgow and visiting family.” He shivered dramatically in disgust, making her laugh softly. “So, thank you for the invite. I hadn’t known how much I missed you until I saw you again.”

Touched, she turned to face him at last, giving him a watery smile. “I missed you too.” Rising up on her toes she leaned in, aiming for his cheek. Later, when she would spend half the night lying awake replaying this moment, she wouldn’t be able to tell if he moved because of bad luck or if he’d misunderstood, but Hardy’s face turned to her at the last possible second, and instead of the innocent kiss to the cheek she had intended, her lips landed squarely on his.

Oh my God, she thought, freezing in surprise at the admittedly delightful feel of his mouth against hers. Then he leaned forward slightly, into the kiss, and the only thing running through her mind was what the fuck?

Jerking her head back her jaw dropped, as she stared up at him, watching his eyes widen and his throat work as he swallowed.

What was that?!

#bbatcfic #broadfic #Broadchurch #HardyxMiller #Alec Hardy #Ellie Miller #AU #The French Connection #platonic honeymoon fic

2 notes · View notes

those70scomics · 5 years

Photo

Links to the Rest of the Story: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 5, Outline for the End

Disclaimer: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

CHAPTER FOUR THE SQUARE

Donna, Hyde, and Fez had taken the alcove in trigonometry class. That would hide them from Ms. McGee, but Eric managed to hide himself from them. He'd sneaked into a desk behind the alcove, to the left of Fez. They were so distracted by their own conversation that they didn't spot him. “She's gonna interview the moron,” Hyde said. “What, like a job?” Donna said, and Eric kept his head down and pretended to take notes. The angel had warned him this morning to listen. Convincing Donna he was a sociopath took two days. He had five days to undo that damage. Hyde flicked his pencil against his desk. “Dating Jackie's not a job, man. It's slave labor.” Donna laughed, but Fez said, “We can't let them get back together.” “Yeah, we gotta sabotage that 'interview,'” Hyde said. “Jackie's like a termite. She's gonna chew on our house 'til it collapses.” “I think you're mistaking her for my new neighbor,” Donna said, and the tip of Eric's pencil broke. His fingers ached from holding onto the pencil too hard, and he rummaged in his backpack for a pen. “He's a psycho. Certifiable.” “Forman?” Hyde wrote something in his notebook. “He's harmless.”

“Harmless people don't spread rumors,” Donna said and wrote in her notebook. Ms. McGee must've given a vital piece of trig info, but she might as well have been absent. Eric's focus was wholly on his friends who weren't his friends. “He didn't do that,” Hyde said. “He just told Jackie that garbage about Kelso, just like I tried to warn Forman about Jackie. Looks like he didn't take my advice, though. Timmy saw them foolin' around in the make-out alcove yesterday.” Eric's stomach clenched with nausea, and he pressed his knees together to keep from defending himself. Him and Jackie fooling around? How could these people have such a total lack of understanding of who he was? Because in this life, he was closer to making them his enemies than his friends. The line between like and dislike was thinner than he’d imagined. Maybe that was why Donna rejected his promise ring in their other life. He'd crossed the line inside her mind from love to, “Sometimes I see you in my future, and sometimes I don't.” Fez slammed his palms against his desk. “She was Frenching Junior? So she will make out with the skinny new kid but not the lovable foreign kid?” “Wait a second,” Donna said. “Why is she ‘interviewing' Kelso if she's swapping spit with Eric?” “Maybe 'cause Forman's a lousy kisser. Probably scared her back to Kelso.” Hyde puckered his lips and made kissing sounds at Donna. She planted her hand on his cheek and shoved his face away. “Are you trying to scare me off?” “Don't judge something 'til you've tried it.” “Whatever,” she said, but she was chuckling, and Eric silently thanked God. She and Hyde hadn't kissed. They weren't together, not yet. The school bell signaled the end of class. Eric left his desk and bolted from the classroom. If Donna learned he'd spied on her discussion, it would only confirm her suspicions about him. She didn't have the context for his actions, his reasoning. He'd been worthy of her affection once, but she wasn't offering any opportunities here. He had to make them. In what seemed like an extra-long homeroom, Mrs. Bridges droned the school announcements. Eric had moved behind Jimmy Headgear after roll call. Jimmy was twice the width of Eric, like many people were, but Eric used their difference in size to conceal himself. He didn't need Hyde giving him crap for “fooling around” with Jackie. “Forman.” Eric groaned at Hyde's voice. Hiding in the science lab was impossible. A tap on his shoulder followed, and he turned around. “Hyde.” “Your girlfriend's gonna take Kelso back,” Hyde said. “My girlfriend?” Eric had to play dumb. Hyde couldn't know how much Eric already knew. “The chick you shared tongues with yesterday.” Bile rose on Eric's throat. “What are you taking about?” “You know what I'm talkin' about...” Hyde grasped his belt buckle and widened his stance. “And even though it sickens me to give you this bit of intel — 'cause you're only gonna end up screwing yourself — we want the same thing: Jackie and Kelso to stay broken up.” He glanced behind himself, as if worried someone was eavesdropping, and he lowered his voice. “If you plan on fighting for the girl of my nightmares, go up to the art studio after school.” “Thanks?” “No problem — and we never talked.” He punched Eric on the arm lightly before leaving him. Eric rushed from the science lab after homeroom, and people whispered to on another as he strode down the hall. That rumor about him and Jackie had probably spread through school. If anyone was a sociopath, it was Timmy Wilson, Point Place High’s version of a town crier. But Eric had to finish what he'd started, to help Jackie see Kelso's true nature. By doing that, maybe Donna would finally realize who Eric actually was.

Double-English consisted of an hour-and-a-half of Fez's angry stares. Eric couldn't prove he hadn't kissed Jackie, not without Jackie herself denying it, so he didn't bother responding. Instead, he wrote down all he remembered about Donna: her favorite food, music, and TV shows. The social causes she was passionate about. The bizarre crap her parents had pulled during her childhood. He continued his list during study hall. Donna had another class, and he didn't see her again until lunch. In the cafeteria, he spotted her in the serving line. She must have caught his gaze because her mouth opened slightly, and she looked away. Posters for the school's extra-curricular assembly were taped to the walls. The assembly would take place on Friday in the gym. If Donna wasn't talking to him by then, he'd have to take drastic measures. She'd find out just what she was missing.

“Hey, Buddy,” Eric said at Buddy's table. The seat across from him was empty, as if Buddy had saved it purposely. “Mind if I...?” “It's yours.” Eric sat and pointed at the macaroni and cheese on his tray. “Do you think this is safe to eat?” “If it isn't, we're both in trouble.” A blob of yellow balanced on Buddy's fork. He stuck it into his mouth, and his face didn't contort as he chewed. The flavor had to be decent, and Eric began to eat. “So,” Buddy said, “you struck out with the redhead and decided to go for a brunette?” “Man!” Eric dropped his fork. “I didn't kiss Jackie Burkhart.” “Are you sure?” Eric jerked back his head, as if Buddy had kicked him in the balls. Of course he was sure. Why the hell wouldn't he be sure? Unless the angel was tampering with his memory. Buddy laughed. “Relax, Eric. I'm messing with you. I mean, if brunettes are what you're into...” He gestured to his own hair. “Not even a question,” Eric said. “I'd kiss you over Jackie any day.” Buddy glanced down at his mac and cheese, but a smile slid across his lips. The table was full of the same people as yesterday, all rich and popular. Timmy's gossip-mongering must've reached them, too, but they acted like Eric and Buddy were in a Cone of Silence. Eric's alleged lip-lock with Jackie couldn't be that interesting to them. She was a sophomore, and he was new.

Eric drummed his fingers on the table and scanned the cafeteria. Pam Macy had to be sitting somewhere. He didn't have history today, and that was their only class together. Confirming their deal would settle his mind a little, but his debt to Buddy tugged on him like the Force. Because he did owe Buddy. His friendship these last few days — and even now — was keeping Eric sane. “Hey, is there anything I can do for you?” Eric said to him. “You've been really nice to me, kind of like a guardian angel—” He smirked, hoping the angel heard that. “And I want to repay you.” “Actually, there is something,” Buddy said. “We'll probably have our first lab in chemistry today or tomorrow, so how about being my lab partner?” “You've got it.” Eric swallowed too-big a bite of mac and cheese. It got stuck halfway down his esophagus, and he forced it into his stomach with some water. “Speaking of Mr. Frisch,” he said, rubbing his throat, “have you noticed how gets sidetracked? Like yesterday, he was talking about about the atomic weight of helium, and then he went into how he used to work with weather balloons.” Buddy hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Jeez — yeah! He's a rambler. That's why I need you as my lab partner. Someone has to teach me chemistry.” Eric chuckled but slouched in his seat. His shoulders were more tense than they'd ever been, but the familiarity of their conversation was soothing. In his other life, he and Buddy had talked many times. He absorbed this moment. Took solace in it. Because, for these few minutes, he wasn't lonely. Losing Donna had a brought an isolation he'd never experienced, and that was just the first night. Worse, the isolation had followed him here, like a bad odor he couldn't wash off. If he went back to his other life without that kiss, what would become his friendships? Would Hyde, Kelso, and Fez feel torn between him and Donna? If they did, who would they choose? Buddy's gaze rose above Eric's face. Eric looked over his own shoulder, but a pair of breasts blocked his view. They were clothed in a tight-fitting blouse, and Pam Macy's voice floated into his ears: “Do you have it yet?” She meant her history homework, and Eric said, “Yes, and you'll get it when you meet me at the designated time and place.” “What?” she said. He sighed. Deviousness didn't always translate into other kinds of intelligence. “The art studio after school. Uphold your end of our bargain, and I'll uphold mine.” Pam left without a word. Eric's gaze lingered on her backside as Buddy said, “And that was about...?” Eric turned toward him. “It's all very tangled.” “Gotta say I'm impressed.” Buddy tapped his fork on his tray. “You move fast, making a deal for a quickie in the art studio.” “I didn't—” Eric leaned his head back and inhaled through his nose. His whole body was buzzing, but he'd never act on his physical attraction to Pam. It was an unconscious, chemical reaction. He was seventeen. Thoughts occurred to him, but Donna owned the landscape of his mind. With one word, she'd laid it to waste. With one kiss, she'd restore it.

Eric explained what he could to Buddy in chemistry class, told him about the Rundgren tickets. They did have their first lab today, and they'd partnered up.

“So you sold your soul for a concert?” Buddy said.

“Pretty much.” Eric had copper wire in his hands, and he wound it into the shape of a ball. “But those tickets are my way out of hell.” Buddy didn't question him. He measured nitric acid in a beaker, and they focused on the experiment. On their way to Spanish class, though, he said, “Tell me how it goes with Eric's Angels tomorrow.” “Sure.” Eric wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. He was less than two hours from guaranteed Rundgren tickets. But he tried to prepare himself mentally for any mishaps. Pam might flake out on him — or Kelso might flake out on Jackie. But after Eric sat at his desk, Kelso charged into the classroom and headed straight for him. “You,” Kelso said and gripped the sides of Eric's desk. “Don't follow me around today, or I'll kick your ass.” Fez's face appeared by Kelso's shoulder. “Yes, don't follow him.” Buddy stood up from the desk beside Eric's. “You kick his ass, and the whole football team will kick yours.” He jabbed his thumb at his chest. “Guess whose dad funded their new uniforms this year?” “Ai...” Fez scurried to the other end of the classroom, but Kelso glared at Eric on his way to his desk. He should've kept his eyes forward, however, because crashed into Mr. Soto. “Sorry,” Kelso said. “En español,” Mr. Soto said. “Lo … sorry-o?” Mr. Soto scratched both his hands through his short-cropped black hair. “¿Cómo te metiste en mi clase?”

“I walked,” Kelso said. Mr. Soto waved him away and muttered to himself in Spanish. Kelso sat at his desk and seemed to forget Eric for now, but Eric leaned toward Buddy and whispered, “Thanks for the backup.” “De nada,” Buddy whispered back. Eric wiped his palms on his jeans again and several more times throughout class. It was a futile endeavor. By gym class, he was coated in sweat, and Coach Ferguson hadn't even started drills yet. Students were still entering the gymnasium. New arrivals palled around with people who'd come earlier, and several minutes later, Coach Ferguson blew his whistle. “Everyone get in your squads!” Students scrambled to arrange themselves in their preassigned groups. Eric's squad was lined up beside Kelso's, and Kelso nudged Eric's shoulder. “I told you not to follow me around!” Eric didn't respond, except to avoid Kelso as much as possible during the torture inflicted on them. Coach Ferguson had them sprinting around the gym, tossing basket balls from ridiculous distances, defending the hoop from classmates who were taller and more muscular. The matches were uneven and unfair, but, “Life is unfair, you pansies!” Coach Ferguson often reminded them. Class ended with Eric wanting to collapse. Coach seemed more sadistic in this life, or maybe Eric simply wasn't slacking. His lungs burned as he climbed the stairs to the art studio. His legs were shaking, and after three flights, his quads began to spasm. He stopped and gripped the banister. Kelso needed more of a head start anyway. Pam was waiting for him on the fifth floor. She'd changed tops. Her breasts were now clothed in a blouse made from thinner material. Their shape was easily distinguishable, not that the blouse's neckline left much to imagine. “Only one girl is in there,” she said, gesturing to the art studio door. “I thought this was a contest.” “The other girls will be here soon,” Eric said. He pushed open the door and let her go ahead of him. “But you're sure to win.” At the center of the studio, Kelso and Jackie were sitting on stools. A row of easels acted as a barrier, cordoning off the pottery area from the painting area. Kelso and Jackie had to be deep into the interview. Neither of them reacted as Eric led Pam toward them. “Stand here,” Eric said and positioned her by a canvas-drying rack. It was directly in Kelso's eye-line. “—an astronaut,” Kelso said, finishing an answer to one of Jackie's questions. Only the back of Jackie was visible to Eric, but the stoop of her shoulders revealed enough. She wasn't pleased, and her tone grew strained as she asked another question. “If I take you back, and I caught you kissing another girl, what would you do?” “Uh … boobs,” Kelso said. He’d discovered Pam. His gaze was squarely on her chest. “'Boobs'?” Jackie repeated. Kelso nodded while looking at Pam. “Big ones.” Jackie waved her hand in front of his eyes. “Michael, I asked you a question.” “Just a second, Pam—” Kelso's eyes widened, and his gaze shot to Jackie. “I mean Jackie!” “This is your chance,” Eric whispered to Pam. “Kelso's one of the judges. Woo him.” Pam strutted toward the center of the art studio. She walked around Jackie and brushed her hip against Kelso's arm. “Hi, Kelso.” He jumped off the stool. It fell in the process, and Eric cupped his mouth as Kelso smashed his body into Pam's. She stumbled back a step, but he put on a deeper voice and said, “Hey, Pam. What's going on?” “Michael!” Jackie stood and shoved Pam aside. “Oh, my God, you would have cheated on me, you — you cheater!” She slammed her foot into Kelso’s shin and fled the studio. He doubled over as a cacophony of, “Oh!”s and “Ouch!”s rose from behind the easels. Shoes Eric recognized filled the spaces between the easels legs. Jackie and Kelso had been watched by an audience, and Eric said, “Okay, time to come out!” Hyde, Donna, and Fez emerged from their hiding spot. Hyde was laughing, but Pam strode to Donna and looked her up and down.

“So, you were checking out the competition?” Pam said and glanced back at Eric. “She should be disqualified.” Donna squinted. “Disqualified? What?” But Pam continued talking to Eric. “It doesn't look like any other girls are coming, so who won?” “You,” Kelso said and rubbed his shin. “You totally won.” “Won what?” Hyde said. Fez clutched his heart and frowned. “Jackie may be a spoiled, whiny princess, but she has won my heart.” He slapped the back of Kelso's head. “You don't deserve her, you sonuvabitch!” He poked Eric in the chest. “Neither do you, Junior from Janesville!” He darted from the art studio, probably to chase after Jackie. Kelso, though, seemed to have forgotten Jackie altogether. He stood up straight and closed the distance between himself and Pam. “Pam, would you do the honor of making out with me behind the gym?” Pam stared at Eric, and Eric said, “Yeah, yeah. Chemistry homework. You're the winner.” He pulled Pam's history notebook from his backpack and passed it to her. “You've earned this.” Pam gave him a snotty smile and grabbed Kelso by the shirt. “Let's go.” “All right!” Kelso said.

He followed her like a puppy out of the art studio, and Eric pulled on his collar to air himself out. His dirty deed was done. With any luck, Kelso would leave him alone the rest of the week. “Don't you see what's going on here?” Donna said to Hyde. “Eric brought Pam here on purpose to sabotage Kelso.” “And it worked.” Hyde offered Eric a high-five. “Good job, man.” Eric accepted the triumphant, stinging slap to his palm, but it didn't feel like victory. Donna was scowling, and she smacked Hyde's arm. “Aren't you pissed?” she said. “Why? He did what we were planning to do, only he had an actual plan.”

She seemed unconvinced and turned toward the easels, and Hyde said, “Forman didn't force Kelso to stick his face in Pam's rack. He did that all on his own. He proved Forman right.” “I guess so...” She ran her finger along the top of an easel. Maybe she’d listen to Eric now — and understand he wasn't a headcase but someone who tried to help people. He willed Hyde to leave him and Donna alone, but Hyde slung his arm around Eric's shoulders instead and thumped him on the chest. “You are one sneaky bastard. Knew I liked ya for a reason. But if you go after Jackie, you're dead to me.” “I told you,” Eric said, keeping his gaze on Donna, “I don't want Jackie. I'd rather make out with a steaming-hot furnace.” Hyde's arm dropped away from him. “Then what was that crap in the make-out alcove?” “Jackie shoved me there for a private conversation, and that's all we did. Talk.” Eric indicated the art studio and everything that had just happened there. “All this was her idea. She wanted to see for herself what Kelso's like around other girls. I said fine because I'd already interfered in her life...” and because Jackie agreed to get him Rundgren tickets, but he left that part out. Donna struck an easel, and it clattered on the floor. “I don't believe you,” she said and marched past him. “You're not just a sociopath. You're a pathological liar.” “Hey, hold on a minute—” He got in front of her before she could leave the studio. “Why don't you ask Jackie before you pronounce me guilty?” “Man's got a point,” Hyde said. “Shut up.” She side-stepped Eric and disappeared through the door. Pressure built up in Eric's chest. He inhaled a few non-calming breaths, found the nearest stool, and tossed it to the floor. “Damn it!” “Don't take it personally,” Hyde said. “She can be a hothead.” “She hates my guts. Doesn't get more personal than that.” “She'll come around, especially with me vouching for ya.” Hyde righted the stool Eric had thrown. He did the same for the one Kelso had been sitting on — and for the easel Donna had hit. “Sorry for bein' a dillhole yesterday. Turns out Kelso's a moron and a cheater. Jackie's better off without him … and we're sure as hell better off without her.” Eric's throat hurt. His voice was sure to squeak if he spoke, so he stayed silent. This Hyde was so much like Eric's, but enough differences existed to be jarring. This Hyde seemed to take school more seriously, to respect it. That had to be Donna's influence. Hyde slapped a stool as if it were a conga drum, creating rhythmic beat. “Say, you ever smoke-up in Janesville?” “All the time,” Eric said. The high-pitch of his voice sent blood into his neck. Hyde probably thought he was lying. “Me and my friends used to have circles once a week.” Hyde quirked up an eyebrow. “How'd you like to have your first circle in Point Place?”

Hyde's house was as disheveled as Eric remembered. Stuffing spilled from the couch. Dirty clothes were strewn on the floor, and cockroaches skittered over them. Hyde's mom was out at a bar. She wouldn't be home for hours, Hyde said, but Eric's answer to him came much later. His lungs and mind were saturated with pot, and he coughed out white smoke. “You should come live with me,” Eric said. “This place is a wreck. You'll like my basement a lot better.” Hyde pulled the joint from his mouth and laughed. “Man, you're stoned as shit.” He was sitting in Bud’s old armchair while Eric had the couch. They seemed to be hundreds of yards apart, but that had to be an affect of the pot. “Stuff in Janesville ain't as good as this, huh?” Hyde said, nodding at the joint. “No, I mean it, man,” Eric said. Someday Hyde's mom was going to leave him forever, but Eric had enough sanity to change topics. “I once told my girlfriend I love cake.” “You have a girl?” Hyde pinched the end of the joint, extinguishing it. “What's she like?” “Smart. Probably too smart. We broke up.” “Sorry to hear that, man. Your love of cake have anything to do with it?” Eric leaned back on the couch and stared up at the peeling ceiling. “We both wanted different things. That's how I ended up here.” “Your whole family picked up from Janesville 'cause you broke up with a chick?” Hyde chuckle-coughed. “Don't buy it.” “Oh, yeah? Would you buy that an angel came to me a few hours after D — after my girlfriend gave back my promise ring? That he sent me to a different version of my life to win my girlfriend back?” Eric sat up straight when Hyde didn't answer. Hyde had propped his legs on the foot stool, and his hands were clasped over his belt buckle. He didn't seem to be breathing. His chest didn't rise and fall, and Eric got off the couch and approached him. “Hyde?” Eric said, but Hyde didn't appear to hear him. If he was asleep, Eric couldn’t tell. Hyde’s eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses. A lone lamp lit the living room, but the bulb was dim. Eric snatched the sunglasses off Hyde’s face, and Hyde didn’t react at all. His eyes were wide open and unblinking.

Eric staggered backward and tripped on a rumpled T-Shirt, but his body remained upright. He should've dropped to the floor. “What the hell?” “Try what the Heaven,” the angel's voice said behind him, and Eric turned around. “You can't go telling people an angel sent you here. Didn't I mention that?” “No.” “Well, I'm mentioning it now.” The angel took Hyde's sunglasses from Eric and replaced them on Hyde’s face. “So — what? You froze time?” Eric shut his eyes and pressed his palms into them. This couldn't be real. None of it was. He had to be dreaming one very long dream. A sharp, tickling sensation spread over his chest, as if a thousand spiders were crawling on him. Donna couldn't have broken up with him. She was still wearing his promise ring on her finger and happy about it. He sprinted to the front door and flung it open. The air outside was crisp and stung his lungs as he inhaled deeply. “Wake up!” he shouted on the porch. “Wake up, damn it!” “You are awake,” the angel said beside him. “Bull!” Eric grasped the angel's white suit jacket. “Send me back to my life, the one where Donna and I are together.” “I can't do that. You and Donna broke up.” “We didn't.” “You did.” The angel glanced down at Eric's fingers. “Jostle me all you like, but it won't change what happened between you and her. You have free will, Eric. So does she. If she doesn't want to be with you in this life, in that life, then you have to accept it.” “No!” Eric shoved the angel, but the angel remained where he was. Eric, though, flew backward and fell on his butt, near Edna's potted plants. “I couldn't keep her,” he said, and the pain in his voice rose to his eyes. “I tried everything, and she still left!” The angel moved closer but didn't offer him a hand. “Did you really try everything?” “I...” Eric swallowed the wet lump in his throat. He hadn't tried everything. Giving Donna that promise ring was supposed to lock her down, but she was like a tiger. Caging her would only piss her off, make her gnash at the bars, bite off his hand. “I have to make myself indispensable to her.” “Hmm.” The angel cupped his chin and looked at Eric as if he were a toddler having a tantrum. The disapproval burned through the haze in Eric's head. He stood up and went back inside Hyde's house. He sat down on the couch, clutched his knees, and said, “I pushed, and she reacted. All of this here — and all of that over there — is her reacting to me closing in on her.” “You're getting warmer,” the angel said in Eric's mind. Eric wiped his eyes with his sleeve and cleared his throat. “Thank you.” “You're welcome,” Hyde said, and Eric’s shoulders jumped. Life had shot back into Hyde's body without warning. “So why'd you really move to this crap-hole of a town?” “They shut down the auto-parts plant in Janesville,” Eric said. “But my dad got transferred to the one here. He's the best supervisor they've had, according to him, so...” “Thousands of people got laid off, but your dad caught a break.” Eric nodded. He'd caught a break, too. He had four more days to do better by Donna and get her back.

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #Eric Forman #Donna Pinciotti #Steven Hyde #Fanfic #One Difference: The Angel Offers Eric Another Choice #Buddy Morgan #Fez #Eric x Donna #Michael Kelso #Jackie Burkhart #Eric and Donna

12 notes · View notes

thegreatlibraryfangirl · 5 years

Text

So guess what I spent all morning doing instead of work.

K+D are big on rules, after their several early disasters I’ve mentioned before regarding not using their words during scenes and only having one basic stop signal. So yeah, they like rules, rules make everything easier.

The dungeon is the best environment Khalila has yet found to address her control-freak/possessive needs. She’s very comfortable in a high respect/protocol/honour situation.

(Dario is less naturally comfortable but sometimes that’s fun and also there are SOLDIERS EVERYWHERE holy fuck)

It is really, really weird for Scholars to be in this environment for more than the occasional “how the other half live/how do I flog someone really hard” tourism trip, because hey, if you want pain you’ve got those stuck-up MasoSade fuckers and if you want protocol there’s this new Greek group I’m setting up, and most Scholars don’t like the military air.

So they stand out and it’s weird and it takes a while for everyone to adjust.

I’ll be giving in and using dom and sub for the time being.

Subs don’t speak unless spoken to

This is something they’ve already got in place from playing with morgan, because having even trusted other people around is just enough scrutiny to make Dario feel a little vulnerable and to make him want to snark. Knowing he’s not allowed to helps him ignore himself and refocus.

(like, he can ask and she’ll generally say yes but it’s just that extra level of meaningful thought required)

(Got a fun scene planned where the three of them are playing and Dario thinks of a PERFECT thing to say and he holds off but he’s so distracted by his own wit that he stops focusing on what they’re doing – asks Khalila if he can speak. He says the thing, Morgan bursts out laughing, he basks in his own excellence, khalila is visibly trying n to laugh too, but looks at him and says “what a pity that you had one opportunity to speak and you wasted it on that.”

Dario protests and Morgan is vaguely concerned, but Dario knows the correct way to protest Khalila changing the rules mid-scene and he’s deliberately not using it, so it’s all ok.

(I’m sorry i got sidetracked where was I?)

Equally it’s considered raaaaather forward to address someone’s sub without asking permission/asking for an introduction.

(Khalila has been known to fuck up this rule if something activates the Scholar research side of her brain, but as pre-mentioned, being tiny and adorable and a gold-band Scholar and usually very polite gets her a lot of leeway)

A sub touching a sub without permission is, mmm, bit rude and frowned upon depending on what and how and why, but a dom touching a sub without the dom’s permission is Not OK in any way. Pretty much the only mitigating circumstance is “safety” e.g. their dom’s not noticed they’re tied in a way that’s fucked their circulation/someone ELSE is touching the sub abusively, etc. Is THEIR dom abusing them/being unsafe? Better go and get the dungeon owner unless you really are 100% certain.

Default respectful address from all subs to doms is “sir”.

Respectful address can get a little blurry because, as a High Garda dungeon, this lot are largely playing with the people they also interact with at work, oh fuck (There’s at least one squad where EVERYONE is kinky and they’ve had to start an attendance rota.) It takes a LOT of trust to believe you can ignore that context, and most people don’t quite dare.

So, a lot of people will call Santi ‘sir’ and ‘captain’ even when he’s actively playing as a sub, though it helps that he’s been going to the dungeon ever since he was a private so there are old-timers there who pretend he still is one. (Santi likes to think he has cast-iron boundaries between dungeon and work but everyone knows that misbehaviour in one area gets you Carefully Watched in the other)

This also applies to uniform – much to Dario’s immense disappointment most attendees don’t wear their official uniform because of how important it is that your uniform be clean and pressed etc at the start of each day at work. There’s a lot of leather (who’s surprised, not us) and chains/handcuffs/rope as ornaments etc. Boots are a focus (of course), lots of people have a separate specific set of kink boots, lots of boot polishing/bootlicking going on.

You’re not allowed to come in with a ‘live’ gun, everyone is checked at the door, but guns that literally have nothing in them and cannot discharge are allowed and often used in play. Knives and sticks and so on are allowed but have to be visible.

If someone uses a title in their introduction it’s only polite to use it.

Dario gets into trouble a LOT here because he won’t call anyone else Master (in the dungeon he uses Master for Khalila and he’s like That’s Your Name) and he also won’t call anyone by royalty-related terms. Khaliila will occasionally force the master thing because that’s just about her, but fully respects his understandable thing about royalty.

(Linguistic complaint time, Dario calling Khalila Master fits thematically but it FRUSTRATES me because Khalila suits feminine terms SO MUCH BETTER but Mistress (or Maestra for that matter – at one point I thought that might save me but ha ha, no) has too many derogatory connotations for me to take it seriously, FUCK historical sexism I hate you.)

(oh also Khalila tends to call him beloved, darling or boy.)

Subs walk a step behind their dom (can be on either side, our two little Scholars like the right)

There’s some clothing flagging, it’s not compulsory but it’s widely used: leather armband means you’re observing/only playing in your existing arrangement, leather glove means you’re looking for others partners, wearing on the left shows you’re a dom, wearing on the right is sub. (that bit often gets ignored because you can identify a sub through things like the walking behind protocol)

You should seeeeeeee the ornate pretty shit Dario has because

a) he always like to looks his best!!

b) the two of them enjoy playing up to and then subverting their reputation as the pretty delicate Scholar puppies. Black is the commonly accepted colour, maybe brown. Neither of these god damned peacocks own any brown leather. Black has its place, as like, a feature colour or, Dario will occasionally wear a black glove when he wants played with hard.

There’s almost always a demonstration/lesson going on – there’s like an unofficial committee of long-termers who organise it. Restraints and rope (with yes, emphasis on restraint rather than Art), flogging, whipping, bloodplay, lectures on what’s safe vs not safe, consent etc. How to punch and kick someone safely, which to many newbies’ surprise is different from High Garda training on non-lethal takedowns. Etc.

(Wolfe and Santi are the star whipping couple OF COURSE but they don’t both simultaneously want to do it very often – Wolfe has to be in exactly the right patient yet violently possessive mood and Santi has to be absolutely confident that it won’t fuck him up for work the next day – either physically or reputationally depending on who’s in the audience)

Drinking is allowed, of course, money money money, but the bartender can refuse service and the person in charge of the dungeon can refuse to let very drunk people play on the premises. Drugs are a little more policed – you can’t buy them in the dungeon and if you’ve come downstairs still high people will Keep An Eye on you and generally refuse to do anything very intense.

Is this an unfair double standard when alcohol will damage your ability to make decisions and give consent too? Yes. Does Dario point this out at length while Khalila tries to balance her embarrassment of her chatty high husband with the fact that she agrees with him? Of course.

Dungeon scenes I have planned atm:

That one where someone mistakes Khalila for a sub and Glain is like is everything ok?? And Khalila is like, I literally have a knife at his penis, calm down.

Possibly a less fantastically cringey version of Santi and K+D. Maybe playing with my sponsor idea, and/or playing with @rosalind-of-arden‘s fabulous “oh shit the kids have seen us now we need to talk” thing.

Maybe a rather different version of the cringey version … crawls into pit of Santi/Dario sin

Santi getting sent there as a private after an interesting restraints teaching session, thank you Rosalind.

Some general kind of disrespectful hiccups towards the new Scholars which culminates in:

Someone groping Dario while he’s either physically bound or thoroughly sub-spaced, at which point Khalila Loses Her Shit, breaks at least one of the guy’s bones, and basically thank Allah that Santi is there because a roomful of soldiers is not the place to start trying to kill someone, Khalila.

(She’s respected a lot more after that, partly because they realise how much of a stickler she is for fairness and rules and also because they understand violent possessiveness a lot more easily than K+D’s natural default of touchy-feely lovey-dovey.)

Dario’s phenomenal ability/willingness to bear repetitive edging getting turned into a game where he’s tied up and the soldiers see how successful they are at it – points are lost if Khalila has to tell them to stop or he’ll come, many more points lost if Dario is still coherent enough to do the same at the time. Not touching his cock at all while doing other stuff to him is definitely allowed, but not seen as a proper “turn” unless it involves the prostate.

#kink and bone

7 notes · View notes

dragoninthecloud · 5 years

Text

Cold Front - Plagg’s recap

A follow up to Sick Day, as always for @ao3bronte. Bit of Ladrien, then some Adrien/Plagg interaction (is there a name for that...?) which I’m not sure is in character but eh.

Start - Previous - Next

-~-

Adrien was frozen. She called him kitty. Why would she call him kitty? Did that mean she knew? Is that why she was looking after him, someone who should be a mostly random citizen? His eyes snapped open when he felt her fingers stiffen in his hair, and huh, he’d never seen someone’s blood drain from their face before but that wasn’t important right now focus Adrien!

“Wha? Kitty?!” he squeaked.

Her hand was snatched back and she practically jumped off the bed and her hands were over her mouth and she was squealing.

“No! I’m so sorry!” she whisper screamed, her hands starting to flail and looking panicked. “I don’t know why I called you that. Well, I do. You look like Chat right now, with your hair all messy like that, and you were pushing in to my hand just like he does, and I’ve been worried about him all day because he was really weird last night and he ran off and I couldn’t find him, and then I couldn’t get in touch with him all today and it just slipped out and I am so sorry because you aren’t a kitty! That would be ridiculous, you don’t have time to jump around in a cat suit. Heh, cat suit. No, bad brain. Not the time.”

She bonked herself in the head with the heel of her hand and Adrien just stared at her.

“Wha’?” He was wide awake again and very confused. So she didn’t know he was Chat…?

“Don’t worry about it Adrien. Go to sleep. Hopefully you won’t remember this in the morning. Yes. This is just a dream, ok? Just a dream. None of this happened. Sleep now.”

She was pushing him down from where he’d propped himself up on his elbows to see her better, and trying to tug his blanket up.

“No, wha’, ‘ady’ug? Wha’ happened wid Cha’ Noir?”

His mouth had not had permission to ask that.

“Oh. Erm, nothing to worry about Adrien. Chat Noir is fine. I’m pretty certain he’ll get in touch with me tomorrow. Don’t worry. Now close your eyes. Not that I don’t want to see them because they’re gorgeous, but you can’t sleep with them open.”

Her hand was in his hair again, dancing the same patterns he was so used to that always helped calm him. Only not right now, because he was still keyed up from the whole calling him kitty thing. Why were her fingers moving like that? Unless…?

“Do you stroke many boys hair like this?” he asked, yawning in the middle.

Fingers twitched, before continuing slightly more firmly and mirrored on the other side of his head by her other hand.

“No, just my kitty. Sleep. You’re safe. You’re warm. You’ll feel better in the morning. So sleep.”

Wait. Her kitty?

The extra hand, and extra pressure, plus the quiet hum she had started in a frustratingly familiar but impossible to place right now tune were too much to fight against, and he started to drift. He vaguely registered soft lips and warm air on his forehead, but maybe that was just the dreams again. No way would she kiss his forehead. Or his cheek. Or his…

When he woke early the next morning he felt better. His head still ached, but he could breathe slightly easier and move without hurting. He stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together what had actually happened yesterday. Ladybug had been here, he was sure of that much. He remembered blue eyes and cold hands and head scratches. And… Nino? Maybe? He looked at the sticky notes stuck all over his bed side table. So yes, Nino had been here. Which probably meant Alya had as well. Which then meant there was a thirty-seventy chance in favour that Marinette had also come and wasn’t that just great that she got to see him looking awful?

He rolled his head the other way and saw Plagg sleeping on his pillow next to him. Something had happened with Plagg yesterday he thought as his eyes drifted to the wall behind him. He’d laughed about something. Something important. Something that was making Adrien’s stomach squirm and toes curl.

He focused back on Plagg to see he was being watched. And then Plagg was grinning. And snickering. That was never good.

“Good morning Adrien,” Plagg purred sweetly. Danger! his brain screamed at him. Danger! Run now!

“Morning Plagg,” he returned warily, watching as he stretched in a very cat like manner, showing off his teeth in a wide yawn before snapping his mouth shut and floating up to sit cross legged mid-air.

“You’re looking better today. Less bunged up at least.” The grin grew slightly, showing off his fangs.

“Thank… you…? Why are you smiling at me like that?”

Plagg giggled. He giggled. The danger sense grew in the back of his brain.

“Oh no real reason. Just remembering some of the highlights from yesterday. Ahh, it was incredible to watch. And I can’t wait for the day you meet Tikki. I hope I’ll have popcorn.”

What? What was incredible? Why would Plagg want him to meet Tikki oh shit no. No. No, that had been part of the dream. Right? Please? He hadn’t.

He desperately met Plagg’s gaze who promptly burst in to hysterical laughter, falling to the bed and burying his face in the covers to muffle the noise.

Nooooooooooooooooo. He’d sneezed all over her. And she’d wiped his face like a child and then had to go and wash her suit and shiiiiiiiiiiiit.

He threw his arms over his burning face and whined loudly, which just made Plagg laugh more. He wasn’t dealing with this. He was going to stay in bed and never leave it, and then no one would ever know and he wouldn’t have to be embarrassed. A horrible thought suddenly occurred to him.

“Wai’. You said some of the highlights. Oh sweet jelly beans. Wha’ else did I do?”

Plagg laughter stopped. But when no answer immediately followed Adrien lifted his arms to look at his kwami and found him unable to breathe he was laughing so hard and clutching his stomach while he hit the cover. Adrien felt sick. What had he done?!

“You, you, gehehehe, you tried to kis-s-s-s, bwahaha ha, you tried to kiss Alya. And you called her maman!”

Plagg cracked up again as Adrien stared in horror. What?

“Anything else?” It came out as a squeak. He both did and didn’t want to know.

Plagg rolled on to his back and wiped at an eye with a hand.

“They changed you. You were really sweaty, so Nino and your “Good Friend” helped you change. I think you punched her in the face at one point.”

All the blood that had rushed to his face for his blush drained away, leaving him feeling slightly light headed. No. Nope. Nu uh. This was not reality. He had slipped off the roof when he first noticed Ladybug was cold and was lying at the bottom of the alleyway unconscious because this could not be his life.

“I punched Marinette?” he whispered. Holy hair balls no. They’d finally become friends, she’d only been talking to him without the stutter for a few months. This would set them back. It would set them waaaaaay back and he didn’t want to lose the kind and quirky girl now he had her in his life.

“Aww, don’t worry kid, she didn’t take it personally. And I don’t think it will have bruised. Much. But yeah. That’s the highlights.”

Adrien flopped, boneless. He stared at the ceiling and wondered what he’d done to deserve this. But before he could get too far in to his thoughts, he heard a light tapping sound. He frowned. It wasn’t the door, Nathalie knocked properly and his father normally just walked straight in, despite several very unfortunate and uncomfortable encounters already. He propped himself up on his elbows and saw Ladybug at his window, watching him with a small smile. He scrambled up and started walking over to her.

“Oh yeah. She was looking for her kitty all yesterday. So you probably need to suit up later,” Plagg called as he phased through the cover and under the bed to hide.

-~-

Well hi there. Let me start with I have no idea when the next update after this will be. I need to actually sit down and work out a few rather important things about this story. Like, a plot. That would help. And I need to make a few decisions about various characters, and what they do and do not know... And I want to work on my Markov story, because I might have gotten just a little bit sidetracked from it. Just a bit.

But I just want to say OMG THANK YOU!!!! I woke up this morning to 90+ notes, and then I kept getting more and more all day, and just I never expected this?!? It was meant to be a stupid one shot? And I’m just crying because just wow.

-~-

Start - Previous - Next - AO3

#mlb #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #ladrien #ladybug #adrien agreste #plagg #sick/comfort #cold front

30 notes · View notes

welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

This is all the fault of @distant-rose and @katie-dub who were both like “yeah, write that,” when I was like, “I’m going to write about the disappearing bow tie from last week’s charity thing.” It’s hockey because I can’t be stopped and was yelling at the Rangers while I wrote this.

“Cap, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

“It’s the offseason, Lucas, I can’t possibly have done anything to offend you.”

“Well, that’s just fundamentally untrue, isn’t it?”

“I mean…technically,” Robin shrugged, glancing apologetically at Killian from the bar in the restaurant.

Killian glared at him. “You’re no help at all.”

“I’m assuming you did whatever you maybe did.”

“I don’t think those words make sense in that order,” Emma said, kicking the door behind her when she waved her hand towards Killian. “Did you do something wrong though?”

“What could I have done?” Killian asked. He jumped off the chair he’d been occupying for the better part of the last forty-five minutes, and several different people groaned at that, but Emma’s lips twitched and his hand landed on her stomach almost immediately. “It is July.”

“And you’re going to strain a muscle leaping up like that,” Will mumbled. “Aren’t you even remotely hungover?”

Killian shook his head. “Some of us did not do irreparable damage to their reputations at a charity event last night.”

“Eh,” Ruby objected.

“What was that, Lucas?”

“Did you not hear my elongated eh or are you just trying to be a jerk?”

“I’d love to get some food, but that wasn’t an option, so—“

“—Oh my God.”

“Did you not eat?” Emma asked sharply, tilting her head up.

She’d been finishing up promo work from the event the night before, a Garden of Dreams thing that required tuxedos and pictures and far too much paperwork for Emma, but it had been good and great and there’d been some dancing before Emma’s feet started to ache and it was easier to flirt while they were sitting down anyway.

“I was waiting for you.”

“That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard.”

Will made a ridiculous noise behind them, but Killian ducked his head and kissed his wife because she was his wife now – and that was only a little over a week old, but he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it or stop smiling and there was no way he’d done anything wrong.

Except maybe elope.

But they told them about that.

It was fine.

“And that’s a rather pointed opinion, Swan,” Killian said, letting his forehead rest against hers and he probably should have just gone to the Garden, but he was working on this whole not hovering thing. It was going ok.

It wasn’t, but that was neither here nor there.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“That’s why I’d like to eat. Did you eat?”

“Merida made me eat and before you get all smug about that, don’t get all smug about that because I ate just…a shit ton of, God, what were they?”

“I thought Mer made you eat?” Robin asked, but Will made that noise again and he was still laying in the booth.

“Please. Mer made Emma eat because Cap was going to fire her if she didn’t.”

“Ok, that is extreme,” Killian argued.

“Is it though?”

Killian’s face was going to get stuck mid-glare. Then maybe Ruby would have something to be legitimately frustrated about. “Yes,” he said. “And it was some dried fruit mix.”

“Do you not even know what you’re feeding me?” Emma balked.

“The website said iron-rich stuff was important—“

“—You know you sound like a crazy person,” Will mumbled, the words barely audible over the arm he’d thrown over his face.

Killian kissed the top of Emma’s hair. “And you are hungover. Ok, seriously, Lucas, stop tapping your foot. It’s the single most irritating thing in the world.”

“You don’t think that’s your obsession with Emma’s iron intake?” Ruby asked archly.

“It’s important!”

“Oh I’ve got no doubt.”

“And?”

“And what? You want to listen to me?”

“You’re a cruel media director, Lucas,” Robin chuckled, offering Emma a plate of half-finished onion rings. She took two.

“I choose to see it as focused,” Ruby corrected. “Also, whatever nonsense we’ve just been forced to listen to regarding the iron levels of mini-Jones’ body—does he have a body yet?”

“He’s the size of an asparagus,” Emma says, and Killian kissed her hair again. She moved against his side, not a particularly easy feat anymore, but they’d made it work and last night had been pretty good anyway and—

“No, really?” Ruby asked. She might have mumbled aww under her breath, Emma nodding with something that felt distinctly like triumph rolling off her.

“Why would I lie about that?”

“She brings up a very good point, Lucas,” Will mumbled. They were going to have to drag him off that bench. There’d been a considerable amount of scotch involved the night before.

“Shut up, Scarlet. I could very easily be yelling at you.”

“Why aren’t you?” Killian asked, trying to move Emma back towards a chair. She rolled her eyes.

“Because I’ve seriously got a question for you.”

“Then ask—“

“—What happened to your tie, Cap?”

Killian froze, mid-step, brows pulled low in confusion and it only took a second for Emma to mumble a barely audible oh shit under her breath. Will sat up. “Oh, damn, she’s totally right,” he breathed. “Where’d your tie end up, Cap?”

“And what does it have to do with future Wisconsin All-American Matthew Jones?” Robin added.

“That is an offensive suggestion,” Emma muttered, but most of the words got caught in the fabric of Killian’s t-shirt after she’d buried her face against his chest.

“Badger, badger, badger.”

Ruby didn’t say anything – which honestly was almost more concerning considering whatever sidetracked part of the conversation they’d fallen into – just lifted her eyebrows and crossed her arms, rocking back slightly on her heels. It felt like she’d grown several inches for good measure.

“The case of the great, missing tie,” Will chuckled. “Is it a good story?”

“That’s kind of what I’m trying to find out,” Ruby said. “And so is a very specific corner of the internet.”

Killian blinked. “What?”

“You’ve got a face, Cap.”

“What?”

“An attractive face. You know, objectively.”

“Objectively.”

“You just going to keep repeating me or you going to tell me what the hell happened to your tie? You were wearing a tie, weren’t you?”

Killian hummed, a noncommittal sound that probably did more to condemn him than help him. Emma’s whole body was shaking with the force of her laughter. “He was wearing a tie,” she confirmed. “At one point.”

There was a general murmur of interest across the restaurant, even higher eyebrows and quirked lips and Will glanced at Robin like that meant something particular. It kind of did. Just not for the reason they thought.

“One point?” Robin echoed, and Emma nodded solemnly.

“One point.”

“And,” Ruby prompted.

“And, uh…then he wasn’t.”

Will let out a low whistle, a sound that quickly turned into something close to a cackle and Robin had to move his hand to cover his mouth and whatever noise appeared to be falling out of it. “Where did it go?” Will asked.

“My pocket,” Killian said. They clearly weren’t expecting that. He took some strange pleasure in that.

Until Ruby’s eyes flashed his direction, far too knowing and far too experienced with how often he seemed to hover around Emma and—

“Did Emma like…rip your tie in half or something?”

“Jeez, Lucas.”

“What kind of insane upper-body strength do you think I have?” Emma shouted. “That was like…silk or something?”

Will made a sound that was almost impressed. “You wore a silk tie, Cap?”

“Oh my God,” Killian groaned. “Ok, that is not the important part. I mean, maybe, but..I don’t know, it matched Emma’s dress.”

“Is that why you had to take the tie off to take the picture with that girl?” Ruby muttered, and there was more oohing and ahhing and Killian kissed Emma’s hair for the third time. To ground himself or something.

“See, you think you’re kidding, but…” Emma trailed off, a hint of a smile tugging at her mouth and that had probably been what got them into that position in the first place.

She smiled at him and he smiled at her and they’d only gotten married for a little over a week before, so he refused to be held accountable for anything that happened for the rest of the offseason.

If Emma thought he had an attractive face, Killian wasn’t ever going to complain.

He was fairly confident she thought he had an incredibly attractive face.

“Explain this,” Ruby demanded, brandishing her cellphone like a particularly violent weapon.

Emma’s eyes flitted towards Killian, a question without actually asking and he shrugged. “It’s actually kind of hysterical.”

“Tell that to the section of the internet that seems to think you’ve got something going on with the girl in this picture.”

“What?”

“Well, that’s insane,” Will said evenly. “Has the internet ever seen Cap look at Emma? His tie matched her dress.”

“There is no tie in this picture,” Ruby screeched, and Killian was a little worried they were dangerously close to breaking her.

“Ok, ok, relax, Rubes,” Emma muttered. “It’s really not that bad. It’s—“

“—Were you making out? Is that what was happening?”

Will mumbled something that sounded a hell of a lot like obviously and Killian snapped a quick hey his direction, but Robin was still trying very hard not to laugh and Emma shook her head.

“I mean we might have gotten there eventually, but mostly I was trying to make sure everything was running right and we were on schedule and Killian’s obsessed with feeding me and—“

“—You are pregnant, Swan,” Killian mumbled, and she flashed him a smile that seemed to slink down his spine and warm him from the inside out. She pressed up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“I am almost too aware of that.”

“So where does the tie come into play?” Ruby asked.

“My back has been killing me for like…days and I was doing a shit ton of standing and there weren’t a ton of extra chairs and…”

“Were you sitting on the floor?”

Emma nodded. “So Killian could try and fix my shoulders.”

“That may honestly be the single most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“He’s got a habit of that. But, uh, I was all twisted around and trying to fix my spine and ignore whatever the hell my ankles have evolved into, and I kind of let my head collapse on him and, well…I got a bunch of my lipstick on his tie.”

Ruby blinked. And opened her mouth. Only to close her mouth. And open it again. And tilt her head.

Robin gave up on that whole not laughing thing.

“So what you’re saying is there is a corner of the internet who is suggesting that Cap is not almost too in love with you and took his tie off for reasons too absurd to even acknowledge, but the real reason he took his tie off is because he was massaging his pregnant wife’s shoulders?”

“On the floor,” Will added.

Emma hummed. “Yup.”

Ruby hooked her foot around the closest chair, crashing into it without a thud and twist of limbs and her phone sounded impossibly loud when she tossed it on the table. “I don’t even know what to do with you two at this point,” she grumbled. “It’s like…dealing with some kind of disgusting fairy tale.”

“But you know in a nice way,” Robin corrected.

“Did you really think we were hiding out in some corner ripping each other’s actual clothes off?” Emma asked, not able to stop her voice from shaking with even more laughter.

Ruby groaned. “Don’t. I mean…don’t act like that’s not a thing that could happen.”

“Maybe when my ankles aren’t their own planets.”

“Ah, I think your ankles are fine, Swan,” Killian muttered, drawing more groans and possibly a stuck-out-tongue from Will and he had no idea where that new plate of onion rings came from.

Possibly the onion ring fairy.

“And I think you’ve got a pretty attractive face, actually,” Emma grinned, tilting her head up again. “Less objectively. More like..as biased as humanly possible.”

“I can’t believe any of this happened,” Ruby sighed. “Is there food? Can we get food, please?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do all night, Lucas,” Killian said.

“Shut up, Cap. I want some onion rings.”

He had to move away from Emma to drop the plate on Ruby’s table, earning an almost grateful sound for his efforts, and he wasn’t all that surprised when Emma refused anything green – demanding something greasy instead. They ate all of it.

And Emma fell asleep with her head on his shoulder in the cab back home.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs #blue line one shots #the rangers keep winning but they also keep doing it in a way seemed determined to frustrate me #so here is some hockey fluff

45 notes · View notes

kpopimagineshelpyoursoul · 7 years

Text

I LIKE YOU

Request:

Hey love~ Could I request Seventeen’s Seungcheol? Smut ofc (daddy kink without degradation is greatly appreciated) idk some hot ceo!seungcheol action. The cliche reader is his secretary/new he seems to be the most hard on and she happens to like him so damn that angst but really he likes her and idk they fuck and confess?

Word count:1,377

Ring ring ring ring*

The sound of your ringtone had awoken you from your deep slumber. Looking at the at the caller ID made your stomach drop.

O no.

It was the one and only boss, Seungcheol, aka the pain in your ass. As you reluctantly picked up the phone all that you heard was, “WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU (y/n)?” Seungcheol screamed.

“You know how important this meeting is, get over here ASAP!” He commanded.

Although he treated you badly, you still had this thread of hope. You liked how commanding he was and how he did not settle for less. After getting sidetracked on thinking of him you quickly threw on your business attire which included a long sleeve button up white shirt and a skirt just above the knees, then makeup, and hair up in a quick messy bun.

Arriving at the office everyone at the work place was silent. They gave you stares of pity. Suddenly one of your coworkers said to you “(y/n), Mr.Seungcheol said he wanted to see you his office immediately”

Your gut dropped at those words. Making your way into his grand office there you saw Seungcheol sitting in his chair faced backwards so that he could not see him.

“Close the door behind you (y/n)” he commanded.

“Mr.Seungcheol I could explain, I was getting everything prepared for the meeting and-“ you quickly tried to explain.

“(Y/n) I’m getting really tired of all of your excuses.” He interrupted.

All of those long hours that you worked on every project. How come he never got on the other employees like that? You felt helpless.

“Mr.Seungcheol, may I ask you something?” You questioned.

He slowly turned his chair to face you.

His attire was a tight white button up that showed the outline of his muscly arms.

“Yes you may” He said while examining your attire as well.

“I try my hardest. I stay up late hours for these meetings. I know I’m new but I know I work a lot harder than most of the people out there. Why am I the only one that you seem to be so hard on?” she pleaded.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with an emotion that you knew that was forbidden.

“(Y/n) name one good reason why I shouldn’t fire you right now?” He asked.

You felt furious. You have had enough of being looked down on and you were not going to take one more second of it.

He was now sitting on the side of his desk waiting for your answer.

“You know what, why should I have to explain my—” you shouted but interrupted by a deep kiss on the lips.

Feeling surprised you pushed away and slapped him.

“What the hell Seungcheol? You felt angry, and confused.

“(Y/n) I’m afraid to say it” he sighed.

“What just tell me, tell me how bad of a worker I am, just fire-“ you shouted but interrupted again with a kiss. Seungcheols lips were soft and tasted of the mint tea he drank every morning.

You pushed away again. This time Seungcheol looked at you with his eyes full of lust.

“(Y/n) I am sorry, I’ve tried to hide it, but you know what? I don’t care anymore. I like you a lot. I know you work your ass off. I wanted to push you away so bad but I have this need for you” he explained.

This was a whole other side of Seungcheol that you never thought you see but you were not complaining.He came closer to you. You wanted him o so bad. Examining his tight black slacks, o my he was thick. You felt guilty too for wanting him.

He grabbed your cheek softly. Then he pulled you in so that you were nose to nose.

His eyes were soft as he said

“You are so beautiful (y/n), I want you. Every inch of you”

His luscious lips attacked your surprised mouth. He wasted no time to touch you. His hands roamed your waist being gentle yet rough. You groaned at his firm hands.

“You like that baby girl?” He teased. His hands then unzipped your skirt leaving you with nothing but your red lace thong.

“Wow (y/n) I would have never thought that someone like you would wear things like these”

You chuckled.

Without a warning he touched your clothed wetness. Swiping his finger across the slit, your reflexes kicked in as you tried to press into his finger.

“No no no baby girl, it won’t be that easy” he taunted.

“Please daddy” you begged.

“What did you call me?” He questioned.

The thought of you calling him daddy was his greatest fantasy. He proceeded to take off his shirt keeping his eyes on your needy eyes.

“I like it when you call me that (y/n)” he said

You really wanted to please him so you said it again.

“D-daddy you like it? Give me more daddy” you smirked.

The outline of his hardened member was showing through his black slacks. You wanted to be bold so you got to your knees.

“Uhh what are you doing (y/n)?” He asked confusingly.

“I’m going to make daddy feel good” you replied.

You slowly unbuckled his belt and slid down his slacks.

His now very prominent member showed through his boxers. You ran your index finger on the outline of his cock. His breathing hitched at the feeling of your delicate touch. Once you pulled down his boxers his cock is set free. You wasted no time wrapping your lips around his his throbbing erection. His cock twitched at your mouths wet warm sensation. He moaned as his hands found a home tangled in your hair.

“(Y/n) your lips feel so nice for daddy.” He responded.

You took more of him in swirling your tongue for more effect.

His hand tightened your hair pushing a just a little to back to make you gag on his cock.

“This is great (y/n) but I have a feeling that you want to be filled” he teased.

He pulled you up to his face wasting no time to to lick your red sore lips. He pulled you to his couch and laid you down gently. His fingers then found your extra wet clothed pussy. He then went under your lace thong and started rubbing your soaked womanhood. You couldn’t handle it, your moans were coming out left to right, thank god Seungcheol had a soundproof office. He pinched your clit and that set you off. On the verge of pleasurable tears he took suddenly took out his hand.

“I would rather you cum around me baby girl I want to feel your walls tighten” he coaxed.

“Yes daddy fill me up please, make me feel amazing.” You whined.

His hand slid down to align his cock with your wet entrance. He filled your walls like a glove. Your reflexes kicked in to push yourself around him more. “O god Seungcheol, please go faster. I want to feel you, every inch of you” you requested.

His thrust went faster and deeper than before, fulfilling your request.

Every single thrust had you closer to your orgasm. Your moans still ongoing.

“Daddy can I cum please, I can’t hold it in anymore longer” you practically begged.

“Yes cum for me, I’m so close too.”

Your walls tightened as you came and a feeling of euphoria filled your brain.

He keep thrusting a few moments after and you suddenly felt his warm seed spill inside of you.

He removed himself and cuddled next to you on the sofa. As he was playing with your hair you asked “This was great but shouldn’t I be getting the paper work ready for tomorrow’s meeting?”

“O I almost forgot, yes get back to your desk baby girl before someone gets suspicious” he answered. You got dressed and left his office without another word spoken.

A few minutes after sitting on your text your phone vibrated and a text from Seungcheol showed on your screen.

It read

“Dinner tonight at 7 and I’m picking you up. I know where you live.”

You cheekily replied “as long as I’m not late for work tomorrow morning ;)”

I hope you you all enjoy this ^~^

I haven’t written for a long while so I would appreciate feed back! ^~^

Also send in more request! 😌

#seungcheol #seventeen #seventeen smut #kpop smut #seungcheol imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen kpop #scoups #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen scoups

86 notes · View notes

johnathanonhealth-blog · 4 years

Text

Healthy and balanced Consuming: The Novice's Guide on Exactly how to Eat Healthy And Balanced and also Stay With It

Healthy eating. It's something everybody understands they need to do, but few of us do as consistently as we would certainly like. The objective of this overview is to share useful methods for how to consume healthy and balanced and also damage down the science of why we frequently fall short to do so.

Currently, I don't declare to have a perfect diet plan, but my study and also writing on behavioral science and also habit formation has aided me establish a couple of simple strategies for building and reinforcing a healthy eating practice without much initiative or thought.

You can click the links listed below to leap to a certain section or simply scroll down to review whatever. At the end of this page, you'll locate a total list of all the short articles I have written on healthy and balanced consuming.

I. The Science of Healthy Eating

Every nutritionist as well as diet guru talks about what to eat. Rather, I 'd such as to go over why we consume the way we do and just how we can alter that. The purpose of this guide is to share the scientific research as well as approach you need to get the results you want.

Currently, the advantages of excellent nutrition are rather obvious to most of us. You have a lot more energy, your health improves, as well as your productivity blossoms. Healthy and balanced eating also plays a big role in preserving a healthy weight, which means a lowered risk of type 2 diabetes, particular cancers, heart troubles, high blood pressure, as well as a host of other health and wellness disorders. (Genetics likewise plays a considerable function. I'm not some deranged person who assumes genetics don't matter.).

Yet if there are numerous great factors for healthy eating, why is it so hard to actually do? To address that inquiry, we need to begin by learning why we yearn for processed food.

Why We Crave Junk Food.

Steven Witherly is a food researcher who has actually spent the last 20 years researching what ensures foods more habit forming than others. Much of the science that follows is from his excellent record, Why Humans Like Junk Food?

According to Witherly, when you eat yummy food, there are 2 factors that make the experience pleasant.

Initially, there is the experience of eating the food. This includes what it tastes like (salty, wonderful, umami, etc.), what it scents like, and also exactly how it feels in your mouth. This last quality-- called orosensation"-- can be particularly vital. Food business will invest countless dollars to find one of the most gratifying level of crisis in a potato chip. Food scientists will examine for the excellent quantity of fizzle in a soda. These elements all incorporate to develop the feeling that your mind connects with a particular food or drink.

The second variable is the real macronutrient make-up of the food-- the blend of proteins, fats, and also carbs that it has. In the case of processed food, food producers are searching for an ideal mix of salt, sugar, as well as fat that delights your brain as well as gets you coming back for more.

Right here's how they do it ...

How Food Scientists Create Cravings.

There is a range of factors that scientists as well as food suppliers utilize to make food much more addictive.

Dynamic contrast. Dynamic comparison refers to a combination of different experiences in the same food. In the words of Witherly, foods with dynamic contrast have an edible shell that goes problem followed by something soft or creamy and packed with taste-active substances. This guideline relates to a variety of our favorite food frameworks-- the caramelized top of a creme brulee, a slice of pizza, or an Oreo cookie-- the mind discovers grinding with something such as this very novel and thrilling.".

Salivary reaction. Drool belongs to the experience of eating food, and also the more a food creates you to salivate, the extra it will swim throughout your mouth and cover your palate. As an example, emulsified foods like butter, delicious chocolate, salad clothing, gelato, and mayo promote a salivary feedback that assists to lather your taste with goodness. This is one reason that lots of people enjoy foods that have sauces or glazes on them. The outcome is that foods that advertise salivation do a satisfied little faucet dancing on your mind and also preference far better than ones that don't.

Rapid food crisis and also vanishing calorie density. Foods that swiftly vanish or melt in your mouth" signal to your mind that you're not consuming as much as you really are. Simply put, these foods essentially tell your mind that you're not complete, despite the fact that you're eating a lot of calories.

In his very popular publication, Salt Sugar Fat (audiobook ), author Michael Moss explains a conversation with Witherly that explains vanishing calorie density perfectly ...

He zeroed right in on the Cheetos. This," Witherly claimed, is just one of one of the most marvelously created foods on earth, in terms of pure pleasure.".

I brought him two shopping bags filled with a selection of chips to taste. He zeroed right in on the Cheetos. This," Witherly said, is among the most marvelously built foods on the planet, in terms of pure pleasure." He ticked off a loads characteristics of the Cheetos that make the mind state a lot more. However the one he concentrated on many was the smoke's exceptional capacity to melt in the mouth. It's called disappearing caloric density," Witherly stated. If something thaws down promptly, your mind thinks that there's no calories in it ... you can simply maintain eating it forever.".

Sensory-specific feedback. Your brain likes selection. When it concerns food, if you experience the exact same preference over and over once more, after that you start to obtain less pleasure from it. In other words, the sensitivity of that details sensing unit will reduce gradually. This can occur in simply mins.

Processed food, nevertheless, are made to avoid this sensory details feedback. They give enough taste to be fascinating (your mind doesn't get tired of consuming them), yet it's not so promoting that your sensory action is dulled. This is why you can ingest a whole bag of potato chips and still prepare to eat another. To your brain, the crisis as well as feeling of consuming Doritos is unique and also fascinating each time.

Calorie thickness. Processed food are developed to encourage your mind that it is obtaining nutrition, yet to not load you up. Receptors in your mouth and tummy inform your brain concerning the combination of proteins, fats, and also carbs in a certain food, and also just how filling that food is for your body. Convenience food provides just sufficient calories that your mind states, Yes, this will offer you some power" but not numerous calories that you believe That's enough, I'm complete." The result is that you crave the food to start with, but it takes rather a long time to feel full from it.

Memories of previous eating experiences. This is where the psychobiology of junk food actually antagonizes you. When you consume something tasty (say, a bag of potato chips), your mind registers that sensation. The next time you see that food, odor that food, and even check out that food, your brain starts to activate the memories and also reactions that came when you ate it. These memories can in fact trigger physical responses like drool and develop the scrumptious" desire that you obtain when thinking of your preferred foods.

These elements all incorporate to make processed food tasty and preferable to our human minds. When you incorporate the science behind these foods with the unbelievable occurrence of food (cheap convenience food everywhere), consuming healthy comes to be really tough to do.

II. Exactly How to Make Healthy Eating Easier.

The majority of people think that building far better practices or changing your activities is everything about determination or motivation. However the more I learn, the much more I think that the primary driver of behavior change is your atmosphere.

Your setting has an incredible ability to shape your behavior. Nowhere is this more real than with food. What we eat daily is often a result of what we are presented.

Let me share an interesting experiment to show you specifically what I suggest ...

The Importance of Environment for Healthy Eating.

Anne Thorndike is a health care physician at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. Thorndike and also her colleagues conducted a six-month research that was published in the American Journal of Public Health.

This research study privately happened in the hospital lunchroom and aided countless people establish healthy consuming habits without altering their self-control or inspiration in the slightest way. Thorndike and her team utilized a principle known as choice style." Selection architecture is just an expensive word for altering the means the food and also beverages are presented, yet, as it ends up, it makes a huge distinction.

The researchers started by changing the option style of the beverages in the snack bar. Originally, there were 3 main fridges, all of which were full of soda. The researchers ensured that water was added to each of those devices as well as likewise placed baskets of bottled water throughout the room.

What occurred? Over the following 3 months, the variety of soft drink sales visited 11.4 percent. On the other hand, bottled water sales raised by 25.8 percent. Similar modifications as well as results were made with food alternatives. Nobody claimed a word to the site visitors who consumed at the snack bar. The researchers merely altered the atmosphere and individuals normally followed suit.

Option style is a lot more important when you're already stressed out, tired, or sidetracked. If you're currently worn-down, you're probably not mosting likely to undergo a great deal of effort to prepare a healthy supper or suit an exercise. You'll grab or do whatever is easiest.

That implies that if you take just a bit of time today to arrange your space, your office, your kitchen, and also other areas, then that adjustment in option architecture can assist you towards much better options even when your determination is fading.

Exactly How to Eat Healthy Without Noticing.

Brian Wansink is a professor at Cornell University, and he has completed a variety of studies on just how your atmosphere shapes your consuming decisions. Most of the concepts listed below come from his preferred book, Mindless Eating (audiobook ). Here are several of his best practical strategies for utilizing selection style to make healthy and balanced consuming less complicated.

1. Usage smaller sized plates. Bigger plates imply bigger parts. And that implies you consume more. According to a research carried out by Wansink as well as his research study group, if you made a basic change as well as offered your dinner on 10-inch plates rather than a 12-inch plate, you would eat 22% less food throughout the next year.

On an associated note, if you're thinking I'll simply place less food on my plate" ... it's not that easy. The photo listed below clarifies why. When you eat a little section off of a big plate, your mind really feels unhappy. At the same time, the same portion will feel extra filling up when eaten off of a tiny plate. The circles in the picture below coincide size, however your mind (and also stomach) does not view them that way.

2. Want to consume alcohol much less alcohol or soft drink? Use high, slim glasses rather than brief, fat ones.

As it turns out, both lines are the same size, but our mind tends to overstate vertical lines. In other words, taller drinks look bigger to our eyes than round, straight cups do. As well as because height makes points look bigger than width, you'll really consume less from taller glasses. In fact, you will usually consume alcohol around 20% much less from a tall, slender glass than you would certainly from a brief, fat glass. (Hat tip to Darya Pino for initially sharing this picture and also concept.).

3. Usage layers that have a high comparison shade with your food. As I pointed out in this post, when the shade of your plate matches the color of your food, you normally serve yourself more due to the fact that your mind has problem differentiating the part size from the plate. As a result of this, dark green as well as dark blue make great plate shades since they contrast with light foods like pasta as well as potatoes (which suggests you're likely to offer less of them), yet don't comparison significantly with leafy eco-friendlies and also veggies (which implies you're most likely to place more of them on your plate).

4. Present healthy and balanced foods in a famous place. As an example, you might put a bowl of fruits or nuts near the front door or somewhere else that you go by prior to you leave the house. When you're starving and in a rush, you are most likely to get hold of the first thing you see.

5. Cover junk foods in tin aluminum foil. Wrap healthy foods in cling wrap. The old saying, out of sight, out of mind" turns out to have some fact to it. Consuming isn't simply a physical occasion, yet likewise an emotional one. Your mind typically identifies what it intends to consume based upon what your eyes see. Thus, if you conceal junk foods by covering them up or tucking them away in less prominent locations, then you are less likely to eat them.

6. Keep healthy and balanced foods in larger packages and also containers, and unhealthy foods in smaller sized ones. Huge boxes and containers tend to capture your eye extra, take up area in your kitchen and also cupboard, and also or else get in your method. Because of this, you're more likely to notice them and eat them. On the other hand, smaller products can hide in your kitchen area for months. (Just have a look at what you have existing around now. It's probably little containers as well as containers.).

Perk tip: if you buy a large box of something undesirable, you can re-package it right into smaller Ziploc bags or containers, which should make it much less most likely that you'll binge as well as eat a great deal at once.

What Should I Eat?

As I pointed out initially, this is not a guide regarding what to consume. It's an overview about why we consume the method we do and also just how to do something regarding it. That claimed, I'll offer 2 ideas regarding what to place on your plate.

1. Eat much more eco-friendlies. There isn't a consensus on the very best diet plan, however pretty much everyone settles on one point: eat more veggies. You'll be hard-pressed to find a single diet plan that doesn't believe consuming even more plants is a great idea.

2. Eat a selection of foods. As we covered previously, the brain yearns for novelty. While you may not have the ability to duplicate the crunchy/creamy contrast of an Oreo, you can differ your diet regimen sufficient to maintain points fascinating. For example, you might dip a carrot (crunchy) in some hummus (velvety) and get an unique sensation. In a similar way, discovering methods to add new spices as well as flavors to your dishes can make eating healthy and balanced foods a better experience.

Healthy and balanced eating doesn't have to be bland. Mix up your foods to get different feelings and you may discover it less complicated than consuming the exact same foods over as well as over once more. (At some factor, nonetheless, you may need to fall for monotony).

2 Simple Ways to Eat Healthy.

The main point of the majority of excellent diet plans coincides: eat entire foods that are unrefined which expanded or lived outdoors. Several of them have different variations-- no pet items, no grains, and so on-- however a lot of them fit the basic genuine food" framework.

The trouble is that-- if you're anything like me-- you will eat whatever is close to you, whether it originated from Mother Nature or not. Because of this, the best technique is to border yourself with healthy food.

1. Utilize the Outer Ring" Strategy. When I most likely to the supermarket, I only walk around the outer ring" of the store. I don't walk down the aisles. The external ring is where the healthy food usually lives: fruits, veggies, lean meats, fish, eggs, as well as nuts. These are products that expanded or lived outdoors. That's what I eat.

The aisles are where every one of the boxed as well as processed things is positioned. Don't drop those aisles as well as you won't get those foods. Do not buy those foods as well as they will not be around for you to eat. Try this the following time you most likely to the store and do your best to not to make exceptions.

Certain, there will certainly be the occasional time that you'll need to decrease an aisle to get flavors or get a container of olive oil, but this is uncommon. The last 3 times I've gone to the supermarket, I have actually conveniently stayed on the external ring" and I wager you can do the very same.

Just how to Eat Whatever You Want Without Feeling Guilty.

2. Never Miss Twice. I assume life is suggested to be lived joyfully. I have no wish to judge myself for eating pizza or to feel guilty for consuming alcohol a beer. But, I additionally know that I feel much better when I consume healthy and balanced.

In order to balance both, I have a simple rule that I attempt to comply with: whenever I consume a harmful meal, I follow it with a healthy and balanced one.

Address the Root Problem of Unhealthy Eating.

There's a reason why many individuals consume as a method to cope with tension. Tension triggers certain regions of the brain to release chemicals (especially, opiates and also neuropeptide Y). These chemicals can activate systems that resemble the desires you receive from fat and sugar. To put it simply, when you get stressed out, your brain feels the habit forming telephone call of fat and sugar and also you're pulled back to convenience food.

We all have stressful scenarios that occur in our lives. Discovering to handle stress differently can aid you get over the habit forming pull of unhealthy food. This might include simple breathing strategies or a short directed meditation Or something extra physical like workout or making art.

Just how to Say No to Temptation.

Knowing how to claim no is one of the most beneficial abilities you can establish, particularly when it concerns living a healthy life. Research study is starting to reveal that little modifications can make it less complicated for you to say no, stand up to temptation as well as stay with healthy consuming behaviors.

In a research study published in the Journal of Consumer Research, 120 students were divided right into 2 various groups.

The difference between these 2 teams was claiming I can't" compared to I don't.".

One team was told that each time they were faced with a temptation, they would certainly inform themselves I can't do X." For example, when tempted with gelato, they would claim, I can't eat ice cream.".

When the 2nd group was confronted with a temptation, they were informed to state I do not do X." For example, when lured with gelato, they would say, I do not eat gelato.".

After duplicating these expressions, each pupil responded to a collection

0 notes