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piganatur · 1 year

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the eighth sense ep9-10

ok so this is very chaotic and long so everyone, brace yourself lol

After that gut-wrenching ending of ep8 we’re back in the therapist's office’s deep, underwater world. I love that there’s hardly any sound (and absolutely no music) whenever we’re in that office, it’s so silent as if it’s underwater, all is still. The sentence that sets Jaewon into motion, however, is his therapist telling him he’s selfish. That line literally pushes Jaewon not only to turn and face his therapist but to stand up and ‘protect’ himself against the statement. The only thing that can shake Jaewon is Jihyun (or the mere mention of him). He wants to protect Jihyun, but his therapist says he’s selfish for deciding things alone, for not considering Jihyun’s feelings, that’s basically the same as others hurting Jihyun. It’s an accusation of See? What you’re doing is what you want to protect him from

There are these lines that make me pause for a moment, giving me the urge to grip something bc 😩 Like Jaewon reasoning how he approached Jihyun first, what he literally says is ‘bc I reached my hands out to him first’ and I’m a weak bitch whenever it comes to hands (the mere mention of hands and I’m on the floor~) let it be holding, grabbing, not letting go of or reaching out and all their connotations so I’m just 😭😭😭😭😭 And now I’m thinking about Jaewon’s inability to see that he reached out first but Jihyun has been reaching out over and over again and maybe that only reminded him of this very first act, the one that, sometimes, he probably wished never even happened but what eventually saved him? (also, *vague hand gestures* it's a mirroring action-reaction kinda thing and I’m just *clenches fist*)

Not gonna lie, Jihyun scared me for a moment, being so inside his head and pondering so hard while walking with Joonpyo (like Jaewon’s vacant state got passed onto him BUT that’s another parallel so am I complaining? ofc NOT) friggin parallels and mirror conversations 😬😬😬 I’m just a shell of a person filled to the brim with t8s parallels now (should I make a post about all the parallels in all the episodes?? should I spiral into absolutely insane territory???)

As a viewer, it’s interesting to see Jihyun worry and actually waver (on a surface level) because of what Eunji told him (that Jaewon won’t even mention nor talk about him, like Jaewon talks about ANYTHING with Eunji… wow okay I’m sorry but this is too funny I share more connection with a roadside snail than these two did in the rekindled version of their relationship no.2) That scene shows just how inexperienced and young Jihyun is while simultaneously telling about his character growth and his response to fear (much like his final conversation with Jaewon about being afraid and maybe I’ll write an overall analysis about that, about overcoming fear in t8s but now it’s still just a scattered mess inside my head and I’m really not in any state to try and get into Jaewon’s head anytime in the near future so….)

I love LOVE the club room discussion: ◦ first Jihyun wordlessly comforting Jaewon, not letting go of his hand, ◦ then shouldering all the blame so the surfing club can get re-approved, ready to give up something if that means, in turn, giving something to Jaewon, ◦ and then Yoonwon showing vulnerability – these are the scenes that make t8s so special to me… the buildup in this scene, the little things following each other that make Jaewon snap out of his stoic state to comfort a friend because he is a caring person and Yoonwon is his friend… these particles build on each other to push Jaewon to react, to move and do something (much like Jihyun finding - w/ the help of Joonpyo - Jaewon’s pictures and realising that Jaewon did not give up on photography and that fact propelling him to support Jaewon’s dream and giving him another camera?) It’s all action and reaction, some clear and loud, some like these snippets ready to get connected to reveal their final meaning

And I love that when Jihyun gifted the new camera the backdrop of that scene is a cluttered rock wall, all these one-of-a-kind entities of different sizes and forms backing them up from behind, when Jaewon is still at the point where he tries to piece his life together.

And Jihyun waits for him at a boulder that’s separate from the rest, where Jaewon joins him and then Jihyun gives him something precious and leaves. Jaewon stays there, because after everything that went down, much like Jihyun, that singular boulder is a certain and unshakable place. And he accepts what Jihyun gave him.

So when Eunji kisses him, Jaewon sees with his own eyes that what he does is actively hurting Jihyun because finally FINALLY he looks at Jihyun and what he sees is the pain he inflicted. It dawns on him, in that moment, that his actions are causing Jihyun harm, and that’s exactly what he wanted to protect Jihyun from. So he does what his therapist said and works on himself first (and I love how the creators play with/and portray time without blatantly stating how much of it passes)

Also, Eunji pls sit down and stop saying Jaewon is back in his right mind. He has changed clothes like once in the past 2 weeks ffs… Oh, but Jaewon throwing that same line back to her face? I apologise, I wasn’t in my right mind yoooooooooooooooooo

When Jaewon said We’re done I was already cackling. Followed by the you’ve worked hard ...let’s agree that he was NOT talking about their assignment shdhgfhdhg. Another perfect establishing line for the following scene (also, Jaewon served in the navy?? he is i n s a n e)

But back to Jaewon's road to realisation…Sajangnim is so real and I appreciate her every second I see her (also, like, everyone can be an oppa as long as they’re handsome😉). She literally beats some sense into Jaewon lol. It wouldn’t be the same if someone didn’t get boinked on the head with a spoon, that’s the sk experience~~~

The fact that both Jihyun and Jaewon were heavily led in the direction of finding answers by the advice of WOMEN *can I get an AMEN?* yes, I’m back at my women portrayed in t8s shit again

lmao I’m sorry but that Conan Gray song doesn’t even play for 0.3 seconds and Jihyun is already like yo Joonpyo do u know this song it’s so nice? hahaha but seriously,

I really like that Jaewon walks to Jihyun because walking with purpose is soooo powerful. He makes his way steadily and with determination towards happiness. He doesn't need to run, there is no need for that rush of urgency bc we always see these flashy and big actions portrayed as the picture of ultimate declaration (of yearning/wanting/striving for a better existence) when in reality, the quiet and sure things are just as valid, and often filled with more power.

The first time Jaewon unconsciously wandered (through roads he previously took w/ Jihyun) back to the samgyeopsal restaurant it made him smile, his heart led him there. This time however, he makes that choice consciously, he chooses to go to Jihyun and his every step is filled with that decision and with dedication...to pursue Jihyun and pursue happiness because Jihyun IS happiness to Jaewon and once his mind no longer fights it, going to Jihyun and trying is the simplest and most reasonable thing to do. The magic of Jaewon’s power walk is the conscious gravity of that realisation, of that act.

while watching the opening of ep10 all I could think of was t8s 🤝 tms: starts off teasing (the whole season) with clips that only happen in the last ep

If I’m honest, out of all the episodes, ep9-10 were the choppiest, but I get it, they had a lot to cover. There’s no swell, no smooth transition between the scenes, just a wave we climb and when it’s gone we hop onto another wave. Also, the experience of the last ep is akin to reading a c-webnovel where you get to the extras after the main story’s end… well, ep10 is all those extras combined:

◦ idk call me petty but Taehyung and Eunji are toxic people, I wouldn’t want them in my life for anything. Jaewon forgiving them is one thing bc it gives him closure but I hope as hell he cuts those two snakes out for good ◦ Jihyun’s dilemma of when was our first day (as a couple) is so ‘dating and romantic relationships in sk 101’ ◦ ily tipsy Jihyun, ily unruly Jaewon

I love everything @emotionallychargedtowel said in this post (thank you for the wonderful observations, your gripes are valid, I have even more lol) especially the bit about wanting, asking for, or expecting a certain level of care from the important people in our lives, Jiyun’s game, and the pursuer-distancer bit OMG THANK YOU FOR WRITING THAT!!! Jihyun’s game is my fav moment from the last two eps (closely followed by the opening sequence of ep10), it tells so much about his attitude and dedication towards their relationship

And on this note, I agree 120% with everything @emotionallychargedtowel and @jemmo wrote about the complexity of their relationship showed by the ‘twist to conventional roles' (and might I add, not just in queer romance but in romance as a genre too) Not me thinking about my post about Jaewon and Jihyun both actively romancing each other because for equality in a relationship, there has to be space for the ppl involved to move around, and at times, switch places (like taking care of one’s partner, be the one to woo them… then being taken care of, being wooed and so on) because it’s a dance where they take turns to lead depending on the situation because they both want this, because they feed into each other’s happiness.

Jaewon teases Jihyun, establishing again and again that he knows Jihyun is young, younger than Jaewon himself but he does NOT patronise Jihyun for it. It’s an indulgent way of acknowledging his bf’s youth while fully regarding him as an adult. And whenever Jihyun tries to downplay their age gap, whenever he puts them on the same standing with the casual slips of banmal, Jaewon is so happy to be treated like a friend, like someone of the same age as Jihyun. He doesn’t try to use his hyung status as leverage… it’s a balancing act, it is give-and-take and letting Jihyun give back and letting himself receive just as much because Jaewon appreciates Jihyun and takes him seriously as a person, not just as a cute younger boyfriend in need of doting on.

Then I saw this post from @jemmo and I’m !!!!!!!!

will you meet me more than halfway? 😭😭😩😩

Thank you for sharing that song and that particular line bc isn’t that what Jihyun did again and again, meeting Jaewon more than halfway?? Even at the end of ep9 he waited for Jaewon and when he saw him, he went down to meet him in front of the dorms. Jihyun took that extra step, once again meeting Jaewon more than halfway and ever since watching that scene my chest is so full

All in all, The Eighth Sense is a beautifully crafted, though evoking drama, full of passion and love apparent from its detailed and consistent plotline, believable three-dimensional characters, exceptional quality and cinematography. It made me kinda obsessed for 5 weeks and evoked thoughts and feelings I have not experienced since To My Star: Our Untold Stories. Everyone involved in making this drama deserves praise and an enormous round of applause 👏👏👏👏 Very well done 💕💕💕

#this drama will keep living in my head rent free #여덟번째 감각 #the eighth sense #i've been meaning to write this for days now #this is once again awfully long #not @me when I saw jaewon dipping his feet INTO THE HAN RIVER he is actually fearless beyond belief #but yeah i know #it was him desperately wanting to reconnect with the good and wonder that trip and jihyun introduced him to and not the trauma it gave #and water is his medium #always has been #i know #that transition was a beautiful visual perception but...the HAN RIVER #yuu pls move on #also i didnt even remember clearest blue was in heartstopper lol my frail brain cant remember shit

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froot-batty · 7 months

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FINALLY.

lore under the cut! (warning it's uh. it's long)

Because the two of them are very closely entwined, I'll write their backstories as one big thing instead of individually

Bruce Wayne had the life every kid dreamed about. The child of two successful, wealthy, loving parents, his own staff, and the ability to go wherever or do whatever he wanted in the city. Well, with parental supervision, of course. Thomas and Martha, though they believed in Gotham and saw the good in it, also tended to shelter Bruce a bit, just to keep him away from the dangerous parts. Unfortunately this backfired, making young Bruce only want to go into the city alone even more.

Harvey Dent was the polar opposite of Bruce. He grew up in the worst part of the Narrows, with a single immigrant mother who was constantly taken advantage of by their landlord or her various bosses. While she loved him dearly, she couldn't be there all of the time for him (due to her needing to work multiple jobs) or protect him from the horrors going on outside their door. He bore witness to a great deal of traumatic things, and eventually took to leaving his house when his mother wasn't home in order to get a reprieve.

Bruce and Harvey first met when they were very young children, as Harvey was wandering the streets near his home and Bruce had escaped to go and explore the Narrows. They clicked almost instantly; despite the differences in the way they grew up, they both shared the dream that Gotham was, at it's core, a good place (or could be a good place). Harvey eventually introduced his childhood friend (and neighbor) Selina Kyle to Bruce, and they became a tight trio for many years.

Bruce's parents died when he was 11. His grief made his ventures out to the Narrows lessen, but Harvey and Selina would often make trips to Bruce's house to make sure he was okay.

Harvey's mother died when he was 15. She had been sick for years now, and the constant stress of having to work multiple jobs eventually got to her. He appeared to cope with it easily enough, but on the inside, his anger towards the perceived injustice she received would never really fade.

Even as they grew older, and neared adulthood, Bruce's and Harvey's friendship seemed as strong as one could be. At least, that's what Harvey thought, until the moment Bruce completely vanished from Gotham altogether. Bruce's disappearance made Harvey and Selina drift apart, so Harvey in turn poured himself into his studies at college. It would be 15 years until Harvey saw Bruce again, and though part of him wanted to be angry, he was just desperately happy to see his best friend again.

Harvey by then was well into his career as District Attorney, and had aspirations of running for mayor in the upcoming election. Bruce was the one who eventually encouraged him to do it, promising funds and all the help Harvey could need to run his campaign. There was another person planning on running for mayor in the election, one Oswald Cobblepot, but neither of them worried too much about him, at the start.

By this time Bruce had reconnected with Selina as well. Harvey and Selina never could get as close as they were in their childhood, so her instant connection with Bruce began to make Harvey a little worried. A little jealous. He didn't want to lose his best friend again, even if it was to someone who was supposed to also be his friend. Harvey acting weird began to drive Bruce away a little bit, which only pushed him further to Selina, creating a vicious cycle between the two of them.

Well into the swing of the mayoral campaign, Harvey began to...lose it a little bit. He had begun recieving open threats on his life (from Oswald, but he didn't know that at the time, and began to think people were conspiring against him), and his paranoia over that along with everything going on with Bruce and Selina made things up top get worse. By now he was fully distancing himself from his two friends, and started to wonder if they were plotting against him.

Everything came to a head when Harvey was due to make a speech at Wayne Manor. It was only a night or two until the results of the election would be announced, and Bruce had thrown a party in honor of Harvey's campaign (and in the hopes it'd cheer him up). Harvey initially didn't want to do a speech, but Bruce encouraged it, and the District Attorney took the stage.

Unbeknownst to him, Oswald had planned to send Dent a final message - one that would take him out of the running completely.

He paid a man to dress up as a waiter and infiltrate the party. Harvey was in the middle of his speech when Penguin's man ran up to the stage and threw a glass full of acid directly at his face.

This was Harvey's breaking point. Forced to drop out of the race and his mind in tatters, he fully believed that Bruce was in on the plot to take him out, and turned his back both to him and Selina. Where they had bonded over the idea of making Gotham better, this is where they'd fall apart; because Harvey still believes that he can improve Gotham, even if he has to burn the city to the ground to do it.

(Both of them are Bisexual. Harvey also has OSDD-1, which I will probably explain in another post, since this one's way too long)

#do you guys wanna know how long their colors took me #2 hours. individually. so 4 hours in total spent DYING TRYING TO COLOR #AND I DONT EVEN LIKE HOW THEIR REFS TURNED OUT THAT MUCH #yall better like these or im blowing this entire place up (lighthearted)#anyway fucked up toxic twobat supremacy #frootverse #harvey dent #two face #bruce wayne #batman #rogue design #rogues gallery #my art

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honeypiehotchner · 3 years

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My Deep Blue Love (Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader) -- Soulmate AU one shot

This was 100% born out of boredom and loneliness and those damn Soulmate AU POV Tiktoks that I have seen practically 24/7 for the past WEEK on my fyp

(I’m not sure if I’ll do a part 2, rn I have no plans for it)

quick note on the technicality of this one: you lose all ability to see colors when you turn 12 and you don’t regain the ability until you meet your soulmate. but! you have to meet them in person and it has to be a mutual eye contact. pictures/videos of them don’t work, and if you just saw the back of their head or something in person, that doesn’t work either. it’s all about the shared eye contact babeyyy

small disclaimer: Brie Larson is mentioned in here and she has a wife, but that is very much only in this fic, and as far as i know Brie doesn’t have a wife irl lol (i also don’t know if she’s spoken about her sexuality at all so what i’m saying is take it with a grain of salt ok)

Summary: Everyone around you is meeting their soulmate, but you still see in black and white. You’re ready to give up, and basically have, when you lock eyes with your soulmate.

Warnings: None! Just a bit of angst, lots of fluff toward the end

You knock on your mom’s bedroom door at 4:58am. She’s already awake, sitting up in bed, ushering you over.

With tears in your eyes, you crawl onto her bed, snuggling close to her chest.

“I don’t want to lose my colors,” you whimper.

“I know, baby,” she whispers, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

You were born 12 years ago on this day at 5:08am, so in a few short minutes, when you officially turn 12 years old, all color will drain from your life.

Or the colors could stay, but that’s only if you’ve somehow already met your soulmate. And that’s rare, nearly impossible.

You squeeze your eyes shut at 5:07 and you don’t open them again until 5:10.

The colors are gone.

+++

twenty years later

You sigh heavily as you receive yet another wedding invite. You are invited to witness the official beginning of Olivia and Jeffrey’s lives together as husband and wife, soulmates for all of time.

The glitter sticks to your fingertips, tiny black dots against your skin. Your friend told you it’s gold. You barely remember what that looks like.

Lately it seems like everyone has been meeting their soulmate. Just yesterday, you were having coffee with a friend when she looked up at the girl sitting behind you, and boom.

“It’s like the world just exploded,” she had said. Colors were everywhere. She immediately left you to go talk to the girl.

You don’t blame her for that. If you had met your soulmate, you probably would’ve done the same thing. But you can’t say for sure because you don’t know.

You wouldn’t be so cynical of it all if your boyfriend of five years didn’t meet his soulmate while the two of you were out at dinner. You wish you could say that he was faking it. But it was clear from his face (and the girl’s) that he wasn’t kidding. It was real. He had met his soulmate, and it wasn’t you.

It’s never you.

You’ve had guys cut off dates before they even start, all because they didn’t see colors when they laid their eyes on you. They refuse to even be friends with you.

All anyone is doing anymore is searching for a soulmate and it’s exhausting when none of them are yours. When all of your friends see color now. When everyone assures you that it’ll happen soon. What does soon even mean?

You grab your ice cream from the freezer and fall onto the couch, flicking to whatever channel has late night shows that aren’t complete garbage.

As usual, you find yourself watching a talk show, and tonight Tom Hiddleston is one of the guests.

You’re sort of familiar with him from a few movies, but other than that, you hardly know anything about him.

“So, Tom, we’ve all been wondering what’s going on with you and Brie Larson?”

“Brie?” Tom asks, clearly shocked to hear this question. “We’re just good friends, that’s all.”

“Oh, she doesn’t make you see any colors?”

“Ah, no, actually, she does not,” Tom chuckles, but doesn’t sound sad at all, surprisingly. “Her wife does that for her, not me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh really?” The host brushes past the mention of Brie’s wife and keeps the focus on Tom, of course. “So is that true, you still don’t see color?”

Your ears perk up at the mention of someone else not seeing in color. It’s rare for anyone to talk about this on television. Most celebrities don’t talk about whether or not they’ve found their soulmate, but more often than not, those that have are quite loud about it.

“Yes, that’s true,” Tom answers. “I still see the world in a lovely black and white.”

You snort, harshly jabbing your spoon into your ice cream. Lovely. Yeah, right.

“Do you really think it’s nice? Do you not miss the colors?” The host asks.

“No, no, I do. I do,” Tom admits. “But I like to think I’ll see them when the time is right.”

You groan, going to Google to look up his age. And when you see he’s 40, you groan even louder. He’s older than you and he still hasn’t met his soulmate. That’s just depressing. How can he sound so optimistic?

“Alright, well, if there’s one thing you wish you could tell your soulmate, what would it be? Maybe they’re watching right now, you never know.”

Tom smiles wide. “Maybe, maybe, um… Oh, so many things,” Tom exhales deeply. “I guess I could be cliché and say I can’t wait to meet them and wait for me, but I think I want to say… I think I want to say I understand. It is frustrating, still seeing in black and white, but our paths will cross soon, I’m sure of it. Until then, my eyes are blue.”

Blue. Blue.

You roll your eyes. You don’t even remember what the color looks like.

+++

seven months later

“I am not going to a movie premiere. You’re insane!”

“Please!” Your friend, Catherine, cries. “You’ll love it, I swear.”

You glare at her over your coffee. “That just makes it sound like you have a trick up your sleeve.”

“I don’t,” she says. “I just want you to take advantage of this and come with us! When will you ever have the chance to go to a movie premiere again?”

She has a point. Dammit. “Touché. How did you get tickets, anyway? Please tell me you didn’t spend thousands for this.” You wouldn’t put it past her, even though you tell her not to every time before she does something like this.

“God, no, Joe surprised me with them earlier. He said he went to school with the lead.”

“Oh. Cool. Who?”

“Tom Hiddleston, I think. Have you heard of him? He’s British, but that’s about all I know. Joe just said they ran into each other the other day and reconnected.”

You stop halfway through a sip of coffee, careful to not choke on it. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. I...I’ve seen him in a couple things.”

“Apparently, he hasn’t met his soulmate either…” Catherine trails away, raising her eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes. “I heard,” you set your cup down. “He’s probably met them by now though since he blasted it on television like that.”

“Or he’s still searching and you’re still being too cynical.”

“You’re probably right,” you chuckle.

“Sooo, you’ll come?”

You sigh heavily. “As long as you help me pick something to wear.”

+++

“I’m regretting letting you talk me into this already,” you mutter when you nearly trip in your heels.

“Oh, hush,” Catherine swats your arm. “It’s an excuse to get dressed up and look hot for no reason. Take it.”

“Fine.”

Catherine’s soulmate, Joe, was whisked away almost as soon as the three of you stepped inside the venue by some director (you think), but he promised to return in a few minutes. Catherine told him not to worry. She’s used to him being dragged away for conversation. You can see from her face that she’s more proud of him than anything, and not at all annoyed.

Currently, you and Catherine are standing near the small bar, waiting for them to announce that it’s time to take your seats. You desperately want a drink, but part of you knows it would be a bad idea.

One glass of wine can’t hurt, though. Maybe it’ll take your mind off the pain in your feet.

You peel away from Catherine when you see Joe coming back, and you flag the bartender down quickly.

After ordering a glass of white wine, you wait patiently, wishing you had chosen a dress with sleeves. It’s fucking cold in here.

“Darling, you’re shivering, are you alright?”

Your head turns toward the smooth voice, face set and mind trying to decipher whether or not it was a sincere or creepy comment when the world quite literally explodes.

There, standing beside you, concern written all over his face, is Tom Hiddleston. Only now the concern has washed away into awe when your eyes lock with his.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, stumbling even though he’s standing in place.

“Blue,” you murmur. “Your eyes are blue.” Without even thinking or asking, your hand lifts to cup his cheek, and then you pull back, “Shit, sorry—”

But he grabs your wrist gently, placing your palm on his cheek. “It’s alright.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“I thought you didn’t exist,” you whisper in reply. But here he is. His eyes are blue, his lips are pink, he has tiny brown freckles all over his rosy cheeks. You look back to his eyes, narrowing your own. “You liar. Your eyes have green in them, too.”

“Do they really?” Tom chuckles. “I never would’ve known.”

“That’s why you have me,” you tease, and you don’t know where any of this is coming from, yet it doesn’t feel like you’re pretending. It feels like you’re finally yourself.

His other hand tangles with yours as he nods. “That’s why I have you, indeed.”

At this time, the lights in the theatre begin lightly flashing, signaling that it’s time for everyone to begin making their way to their seats.

But neither you or Tom move one inch.

The only issue is people are beginning to stare.

You notice it first, so you slowly pull your hand from his cheek. This movement shocks him back to reality, too, and he blinks a few times, yet he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I, um, I have to make a speech,” he says. “But then I can come back to you. Will you save me a seat?”

“Don’t you have to sit up front?”

He nods. “I do, but—”

“Then I’ll come with you.” You aren’t sure if it’s the fact that he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, or if it’s because you’ve been waiting so long that now you don’t want him to be further than an arms length away from you, but you mean what you say.

“Are you sure?” He asks, but you both need to make a decision quickly because you can see someone waving from the wings, most likely trying to get Tom’s attention.

“I’m sure.”

He doesn’t question it, in fact, he grins, and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Let’s go, then.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x fem!reader #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x soulmate!reader #tom hiddleston soulmate au #soulmate au #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #completely self indulgent #as always

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rogueyami · 4 years

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Haikyuu!! Fic Recs

I love reading fanfics, and I have so many bookmarked that I want to share. Hope you all enjoy and give these writers all the love. All of these are completed works, and they are a mixture of one shots and multi chaps.

Kagehina

where the night goes by bigspoonnoya (M)

Summary:

When their bond loses the immediate context of volleyball, they're left to consider why it's still so vital and important.

Meeting again, by chance, six years later.

Somewhere to Belong by Esselle (E)

Summary:

Once a year, all the villages that follow the way of the sun offer up one of their own to be taken to the sun god's divine temple. Kageyama Tobio, an orphan and loner, never wanted to be chosen—and until the sun god appeared, no one ever wanted to choose him, either. All Tobio wants is to find a place he fits in. What he actually gets is another story entirely.

by this time next year by reeology (T)

Summary:

"I got offers from two universities," Kageyama announces, pointing at his chest with his thumb. "I'm going to play volleyball at Keio this spring."

"You still have to pass an exam, even if it's an easy one," Takeda-sensei hurries to add, although he is beaming and bursting with pride at his fluffy little crow chick taking off to play volleyball at a university level.

"I'll pass," Kageyama says with the same kind of confidence he uses when he tells Hinata he'll get the toss to him. He looks straight at Hinata, and Hinata jerks and turns red, wondering if maybe Kageyama knew he was daydreaming about something as stupid as the way Kageyama talks to him during a game. But then Kageyama just points at him and says, "You'd better get in, too."

Hinata, stupid, naive, idiot that he is, grins wide and nods and says, "Yeah!"

He doesn't know what he's in for.

Not Alone by seconddaysea (E)

Summary:

"I'll visit you," Hinata says. "So you're not allowed to get lonely, you got it?" He turns so they're facing each other, hands warm against Tobio's back. "I'm already lonely," he replies quietly, and he presses his face against Hinata's heart, squeezing his eyes shut, because if this is a dream he doesn't want to wake up.

maps, from me to you by tothemoon (T)

Summary:

This is a (non-chronological) account of the memories they make out of millimeters.

Iwaoi

we can do better than that by spaceburgers (M)

Summary:

Oikawa and Iwaizumi go on a road trip during the summer after their high school graduation. It doesn't go as expected, but maybe that's not such a bad thing after all.

we shine like diamonds by whiitemists (T)

Summary:

Oikawa is nine when he first hears the word. The boys on the playground whisper it like it's dirty, like the way they daringly mutter the word fuck and then look over their shoulders to check their parents hadn't heard.

"You know Abe-kun from class?" they snicker, hands cupped around their mouths like they're passing along a filthy secret. "I hear his older brother is... gay."

here comes your man by newamsterdam (T)

Summary:

Iwaizumi’s left his cell phone on the bench, and while Suga keeps his gaze away from Iwaizumi the phone lights up with a new message.

Iwa-chan, it reads, Have a good day today! Good luck! <3 <3 <3

Suga chokes. It’s hard to imagine anyone calling the scowling and fierce Doctor Iwaizumi “Iwa-chan.” But marriage probably comes with all sorts of liberties.

Mrs. Iwaizumi must be quite the doting wife, Suga thinks. Delivering hand-made bentos and sending along loving messages.

No one really knows much about the new surgical resident, Doctor Iwaizumi, other than the fact that he's married. Suga's determined to find out more, and make a friend of him in the process.

just hear me out by loveclouds (T)

Summary:

To stimulate Japan's low birthrates and take most of the guesswork out of dating, a beeper system was biologically developed in people's wrists, an audible confirmation to show romantic compatibility.

Iwaizumi's beeper has been going off for Oikawa since they've been kids. Oikawa's has only ever been silent.

Call Security! by DeathBelle (T)

Summary:

Oikawa Tooru is attractive, charming, and irresistible.

He thinks so, anyway, until he meets the mall's new security guard.

In which Oikawa has a crush, Iwaizumi has no interest, and a chain of shoplifting incidents brings them together.

Bokuaka

(Don't) Touch Me by DeathBelle (E)

Summary:

Akaashi has always had an aversion to human contact, but earlier in his life it had been bearable. It isn't until his last year of high school that it becomes intolerable. By the time he enters college, any skin contact has the potential to send him spiraling into a breathtaking panic attack.

He reconnects with Bokuto in college, and he seems to be the only person with the ability to calm Akaashi down. He finds himself relying on his old captain more and more, especially when Bokuto deems himself Akaashi's own personal guardian. Despite their connection, he can't touch Bokuto, either; no matter how badly he'd like to.

Upstairs by yoogiboobi (E)

Summary:

Bokuto first sees his neighbour at the supermarket, three days after he's moved into his new place.

[...]

For about a second, a heartbeat, he's met with a pair of dark, piercing eyes, with what is probably eyeliner, looking back at him. It really is just a split second before his hand knocks down three cereal boxes that hit him square in the head, effectively making him break eye contact and drop his groceries to the floor.

In which some of the first things Bokuto learns about his upstairs neighbour are the colour of his eyes and the sound of his moans.

bang! now we're even by Authoress (E)

Summary:

Akaashi only has two rules when it comes to his profession. One, complete the job as swiftly and cleanly as possible. Two, never trust anyone who smells like blood.

Rule three is to shoot Owl Eyes in the face should he ever come across him, but Akaashi never tells anyone about that one.

Crisis Converted by valiantarmor (E)

Summary:

Akaashi Keiji is just a normal cop with a penchant for getting himself into trouble, when quite suddenly he finds himself with a big promotion and a brand new partner.

But his habit of finding trouble hasn't gone away -- if anything, it's only gotten worse.

cracks in the pavement will lead you home by deusreks (M)

Summary:

Bokuto often thinks about Akaashi, especially when he’s running. It’s like his legs know where they’re supposed to take him. He grows into a habit of running a lot, just to keep that feeling going. Cracks and holes in the pavement aren’t fun to jump over if the final reward isn’t seeing Akaashi’s face.

An alternate universe with a little bit of magic and a lot of growing up.

Ushiten

died in my dreams by MTrash (Makaria) (T)

Summary:

If anyone asked Ushijima how it came to this, he wouldn’t be able to formulate a proper answer.

Ushijima likes his quiet, his order, and his solitude. That is, until a loud, talkative and a little chaotic cyber tech convinces him that that's just plain boring.

while i nodded, nearly napping (suddenly there came a tapping) by pseudoanalytics (T)

Summary:

Of course if there was one thing that could be counted on, it was Ushijima’s blunt, total honesty. “Do you think Tendou is attracted to me?”

Reon froze. “T-Tendou?”

“Yes.”

Tendou was notoriously hard to read, but Reon kind of figured that he wasn’t the type to be anything less than painfully overt with romantic affections.

“I... I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I think if Tendou was attracted to you, he would let you know,” Reon said. “I'd guess he just considers you his best friend.” He hoped his answer would satisfy whatever frenzy the guy had worked himself into so Reon could finally take advantage of his last precious hours of sleep.

But instead, Ushijima visibly deflated in front of him. “Yes. That’s what I thought too,” he said miserably.

Oh, Reon realized. Oh no...

Executive Excursion by DeathBelle (E)

Summary:

Tendou is fun, quirky, and interesting.

Ushijima is none of the above.

It's no surprise that Ushijima is drawn to Tendou's magnetic personality. What's surprising is that Tendou seems to like Ushijima, too.

With a little support from his coworkers, Ushijima decides to take a chance and ask Tendou on a date. The results are better than expected.

fascinating facts about geckos by miracleboysatori (T)

Summary:

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

That’s the coach’s name. And he’s the new biology teacher on campus, so not only is he incredibly beautiful, he's also smart as hell.

Tendou can tell he’s completely doomed.

Affection, and other Quantifiable Actions by badbavarois (T)

Summary:

(He's a monster) Ushijima Wakatoshi isn't a monster.

Misc/ Other ships

but not for spring to well up by tookumade (T) OsaSuna

Summary:

After ending a relationship with a fiancé, Suna returns home and tries to heal from heartbreak. Here, he finds friends in the form of the Miya brothers, and learns patience, forgiveness, and what happiness means to him.

the more things change by deadseasalt (E) OiKage

Summary:

“So let me get this straight. You went to the Meiji-Chuo game and saw your old crush and after watching Meiji bring Chuo to a crushing defeat, you realized you were still crushing on him big time?”

Kageyama wishes he could spit in Tsukishima’s drink. “It’s not a crush.”

Tsukishima laughs. “You poor dumb fuck.”

Third Impression by DeathBelle (E) Kuroo x Semi

Summary:

If Semi has a type, Kuroo isn't it.

After their first meeting, Semi concludes that Kuroo is smug, presumptuous, and a little too flirtatious for his own good. Their second encounter doesn't change his mind, and Semi does his best to avoid a third.

Kuroo has other ideas, and Semi finds himself tricked into an impromptu tutoring session with Kuroo himself.

It doesn't go as badly as Semi expects.

Mannequin Men by surveycorpsjean (E) BokuAkaKuroTsukki

Summary:

The modeling world is full of hungry wolves, constantly clambering over the other, snarling and desperate. They fight, and they kill, trampling over anything in their path.

In this case, Akaashi fell in love with the wolves.

Efflorescence by h_lovely (E) MatsuHana

Summary:

"Are we flirting?" "Do you want to be?"

[Efflorescence (n.) a state of blooming, flowering, and development.]

604 notes · View notes

littlefreya · 4 years

Text

The Way to Hell - Part 13

Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escaped Ethan Hunt with his face intact and just won himself the title of being the most dangerous man on earth. Brooding as he is, August is unwilling to back down on his murderous agenda he plots to continue where he was stopped.

Series Completed: Previous Chapter | | Chapters Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) 🖤

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Mentions of sexual encounters, child neglect, betrayal, hinted physical abuse, foul language and lots of angst.

A/N: I thought chapter 13 will be the last one, but I didn’t want to rush the ending or have a chapter too long. So for those of you still waiting, hang in tight! Many thanks to @agniavateira who’s my muse and my editor, to @raspberrydreamclouds for this amazing cover and to those who’s been asking me about the chapter, means a lot to me. I am going into my usual Way to Hell posting panic attack. So bye for now.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Please comment, review and reblog. 💖

Title: Paradise lost

There cannot be peace before first a great suffering. There cannot be love without first a great tragedy.

~*~

Opaline droplets of sweat form on his forehead. In his ears, a constant buzzing rings wretchedly as if an angry hornet is caged inside his skull. What was long buried abruptly awakens, stabbing at the back of his head. Red flashes sear through his eyes while images of Ingvild dissolving to ashes play in his mind, her bloodsoaked feathers crumbling to the ground.

“Why did you go?” August mutters under his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He crumples the little yellow note with sheer frustration before throwing it on the bed.

‘I told her not to go, I commanded her!’

The air in the room grows thick like the pit of a stygian forest. Tentacle-like branches appear behind his eyes creeping closer, clutching his limbs. Even though lost and abandoned in the thicket of his mind, her angelic scent still lingers on his skin, impossible to wash off. Sniffing at his biceps, he inhales the mixture of their union on his flesh; what begins as euphoric mirth quickly meets the sharp edge of rage and hatred.

She’s gone and it gnaws at the dark matter of his brain.

He hates it.

Hates her for being absent.

Frowning deeply, August reaches a rigid hand for his clothes, forcing himself to get dressed. The very first memory of her hinges on his mind: An icy woman with silver-moon eyes who refused his pursuit.

‘Did you think the two of you are going to ride toward the sunset together? That’s not you.’

Letting out heavy gasps, he shakes his head. “She’ll be fine,” he whispers dismissively, pulling on his trousers and hastily buckling his belt.

The new world order awaits, so close he can feel the fresh sun sitting on his open palm. It is his vision, his legacy: bigger than whatever it is Ingvild and him have together.

There was no her in his plan, to begin with.

The Devil never had a queen.

‘You know what they’ll do to her…’

Another ray of daytime terror cuts through his thoughts: her wings plucked from her back, threads of flesh tearing from her naked body. Her screams die in silence.

“She chose to leave, I asked her not to!” August yells into the empty room, frowning at no one but himself as he grabs the used shirt which hangs from the tall mirror. Turning to his reflection, he tenses at the sight of his body. Crimson valleys lead down his back, courtesy of her claws branding deep into soft tissue and toned muscles.

‘Do you know what is the probability of finding someone like her? A woman who wants to see the world burn with you? Who believes in your cause of building a new one?’

August swallows hard and combs his fingers through his hair with haste, attempting to act normal through the intensifying drumming in his ears. Being completely methodical, he pulls his long trench coat over his shoulders and collects his belongings into his black duffle bag on the bed. With a heavy painful breath, he forces his thoughts away, zipping the bag with urgency and reciting in his mind everything necessary for his trip. Time is scarce, the end and the new beginning are nigh; the smart thing to do is to forget her, erase her existence from the chambers of his heart.

He doesn’t have one anyway.

His hand secures the gun in its holster and harsh fingers lace around the black straps of his bag as he stretches himself straight, ready to leave this bedroom. That’s when his eyes fall again to the crumpled yellow note.

‘You’ll never see her in Kashmir, you’ll never see her again.’

~*~

‘Amazing,’ the silver-haired wolf muses while scratching his bristly jaw. For 13 years the evil spawn’s eyes remained exactly as they were the day he picked her from the orphanage. Grey crystal orbs so naive, clueless, and oh so hungry for validation. A child desperate to prove herself worthy to someone, anyone.

It was her single flaw and his greatest advantage.

Even now in the bloom of adulthood, the pale, scrawny thing standing before him is nothing but a lost little girl who wants someone to hold her bony hand.

‘How can someone be so smart yet at the same time so blind?’

The cheap motel room smells like mildew and rotten wood. Speckles of dust float between the handler and his prodigy, cascading over his glance that seems rather alien and naked as glass. It pierces through her muscles - this sudden sense of peculiarity and estrangement.

She chews the inside of her cheeks and sways slightly on her spot, arms hanging loose at her side. Ingvild lifts her chin to look at Liam, her eyes round with what can only be guilt. It makes her look like a child who broke an antique vase.

“Thank you for answering my call,” she begins, wrapping her fist around a disposable phone before throwing it on the tidy bed.

Liam scoffs and shakes his head, ridicule spreading on his face. “You’ve gotten yourself into trouble over a boy, child?” He stares up and down the young woman, noticing the obvious change in her posture.

‘So, she truly is a woman now; how did I not see this one coming with her constant chatter about how handsome he is when I handed her the dossier?’

“Please don’t tell me you need money to get an abortion.”

Ingvild frowns with disgust and shakes her head right away. “Never. No, it’s not what I’m here for.”

Displeased as always, Liam emits his usual grunt. He slowly shakes his head at his asset while running his fingers through his lanky grey hair. This is not how he imagined this mission to end. Her lack of emotions was a key element; Ingvild could have had a few good years running several missions for him, but what tipped the scale was for her to run into the wrong psychopath.

“Then tell me Ingvild, why should I listen to a failed assassin such as yourself? You’ve been weird about this mission since day one. Acting discreet, irresponsible, and reckless,” the old man’s Adam's apple bobs up and down in his throat as he speaks. Taking a small stride, he moves closer to get a better look of her diamond irises. So sharp and so strange, they’ve always irked him. As a child she downright looked like something out of a horror movie.

“You’ve had 445 successful missions, not even 30 years old. Yet here you are a failure, and for what? For a boy?”

Shame traps her tongue and her glance drops to the floor. Failure stings like a rod of hot iron piercing her beating heart. Yet her mind races to the night at the pit where August finally claimed her, the memory of his lips sets glowing embers through her veins. On her skin remains the evidence of his embrace. Microscopic cells, tinted by his DNA.

She doesn’t want this feeling to go away.

Liam clears his throat, tearing her away from memories that turn from tar to honey the longer she dwells on them.

“You know why your mother gave you away, Ingi?” Liam asks, giving her a ghastly sardonic smile while cocking one eyebrow.

‘Liam never smiles.’

A small frown sets creases above her freckled nose. “I asked you many times before and you always said you don’t know.”

The Dane scoffs at her, his smile widening, exposing cigarette-and-coffee-stained teeth. The rot around his gums makes her curl her nose slightly and flinch as he leans closer.

“You were a rape baby.”

The words send a pang through her muscles, like stepping on glass. She shakes her head with protest and steps back, yet Liam nods knowingly, standing in front of her.

“You’re lying.”

His small hazel eyes burn holes through her skull, his smile sinister and impish. “Your father was a savage, a rapist. He left your poor mother half-dead and impregnated in the forest you love so much. Who knows, maybe that’s why you kept going there as a child, reconnecting with your true nature.”

Refusing to listen, she shies from his piercing glare. Liam reaches a coarse hand to cup her jaw, forcing her face back to his. “Your mother hated you. Your very existence reminds her of the most terrible thing that ever happened to her.”

For a child with such a limited emotional range, Liam finds that the muscles of her face are capable of stretching thoughtfully with spite. Pent up hatred creases her brow, her silver eyes turning to hot, molten gold. She bites on her tongue, keeping a vow of silence but he can read her face just the way an assassin would.

“Nothing but a mistake, disowned by your own mother. So why would this man, this... mass murdering psychopath love you?” Liam shifts her head from side to side, inspecting the healing cuts and bruises that decorates her pale skin. “He saw an opportunity and seized it, used you…”

He pauses, moving away from a stare colder than icy lake water, “just like they will.”

Ingvild parts her lips with wonder, glaring at the person she knew all her life with disbelief. In the glossy reflection of Liam’s honey-brown eyes, she sees several black, long rifles pointed at her head.

Liam curls his thin lips with an utter lack of remorse and shrugs indifferently.

“She’s yours.”

*~*~

If colours had sound then the pale blinding white would be a continuous high-frequency hum. The tunes and shades of death. Like angry flies feasting on a corpse.

‘Is this Valhalla?’

A small groan escapes her mouth, her eyes hurting from the sickly radiance of the narrow fluorescent lamps hanging from the ceiling. Her wrists feel numb as they’re pulled behind her back in restraints.

“No,” she opens her mouth to speak, her throat burning, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Definitely not Valhalla...”

‘You need to be a hero to enter Valhalla, stupid girl.’

Stupid didn’t even begin to describe it. August would never let her hear the end of it.

Loud, angry steps tap on the white marble floor, growing louder as the person approaching enters the room. Ingvild blinks, peering at the silhouette when a smile of comfort paints her drowsy face. Like a god, her lover strides toward her with his usual confidence. His ocean-blue eyes beam at her sight, his palm spread open to embrace his tiny Valkyrie. She chuckles at the mischievous, charming grin on his face as it reminds her the day they first met.

Oh, she wishes to nibble his stupid chin right now and brush her fingers along his thick moustache.

But as she blinks again, large brown almond-shaped eyes replace the ocean-blue. A panther of a woman stands before her: confident, strong, and impossibly beautiful. Her dark, succulent lips are pressed together and concern shines through as she observes the small woman who has her arms cuffed behind her back and her feet shackled to the metal legs of the chair.

With her head still heavy, the assassin turns her face from side to side. She quickly observes the armed guards at the entrance, the tall, greying agent standing nonchalantly against the wall awaiting orders, and lastly the sickly-looking, lean man who is positioned at the fore of a metal desk with his fingers laced together. Anticipation is written all over his line-riddled face.

“Erica Sloane,” Ingvild calls knowingly, the ghost of a wicked smile dancing on her chapped lips as she turns her head to face the CIA director. Dressed in a black power suit and crimson pumps, the director is drenched with big dick energy.

“August told me so much about you, but he didn’t mention how fuckable you are.” Ingvild drawls, fluttering her lashes as she scans her from head to toe.

Tilting her head, Erica grabs a white plastic chair and places it in front of Ingvild. She then takes a seat, crossing her long smooth legs together. Kindness and motherly concern pours from her dark eyes, expressions Ingvild never received from anyone in her life.

“Poor child, I imagine August Walker filled your head with many stories.”

“No…” Ingvild swallows, trying to dampen her sore throat. Noticing her struggle, Erica snaps her fingers and the greying agent rushes to bring her a plastic cup of water like a loyal dog. Focusing on the translucent beads around the cup, Ingvild flicks her tongue over her lips. “August was too busy filling other parts of me.”

The intrepid woman begins to laugh at her own joke, her voice dragging groggily while Erica rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“I imagine so.” She answers and then carefully tilts the cup to Ingvild’s lips, offering the drink to the girl who sips with desperation as if she walked the desert. “August was my best agent,” she explains, watching the stream of water that rolls down Ingvild’s chin as she gulps with an incredible thirst, “a really proficient assassin, ranked high in every mission I sent him to. My golden boy. Even though that shit-eating attitude of him was something else...”

Withdrawing the cup, she looks into Ingvild’s cold silvery stare. “Those snarky, arrogant remarks and him going through the whole department like a fox in a hen coop I could overlook. But that fucker had us all fooled, Ingvild, as he fooled you.”

Ingvild flutters her dark lashes and tips her chin up. Her defined cheekbones sharpen even more as a snake-like arrogance poisons her face. “August told me what you did,” she utters sincerely, while Erica commands the agent to refill the plastic cup. Loathing melts her beautiful sullen glaciers as she focuses on Erica.

The CIA director narrows her eyes at her in return, and curls her lips downward as disdain fills her mouth. “I am not the one who made Walker murder Agent Hartmann, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You deceived him,” Ingvild retorts calmly and sucks in her bottom lip, collecting the remaining droplets of water onto her tongue. “That’s what you and your little agencies do to people like us. Set up traps for predators and pretend to act surprised as they eat the bait.”

Holding the cup, Erica stares at the young woman thoughtfully, the burning hatred in her eyes reminding her so much of Agent Walker: An entitled spoiled brat, thinking he can wind the world to the direction only he sought to be right.

“You can’t blame a predator for following its nature, and you can’t expect him to behave otherwise.”

“Is that how you see yourself?” Erica asks, moving the cup away, though she can see the thirst on Ingvild’s gaping bottom lip. “August poisoned your mind but I assure you, you are not the monster he is. You never had the choice that he did.”

Erica’s voice suddenly becomes soft, and her big brown eyes become round with care that only a parent can express. But the only form of parent Ingvild ever had was Liam, and he was never much of a father, was he? It took less than a few hours for him to give her away.

She wonders how long it took for her real mother.

Her gaze drops, peering at Erica’s shiny crimson shoes as they counter the lifelessness of the floor like blood in the snow. Memories whisk her away again, a man in pursuit of a woman deep in an icy forest. She should have died that night and yet here she is, shackled to a chair. The voice of the man who saved her echoes through her head with a fair warning: ‘Liam never gave a flying fuck about you.’

Sharp as a needle, it pricks her heart.

“I know what Icarus did. Moulding you into the perfect assassin, depriving you of the childhood and the life you deserved.” Erica’s voice cuts into her trail of thoughts, making her raise her gaze back to the beautiful woman. “Now, I don’t know what twisted fantasies August may have offered but I can assure you, they are empty just like him. You read his file, you know what he’s capable of. Looking at your scars and bruises I assume he hurts you for his own sick pleasure, taking advantage of a woman who only wants to be loved.”

‘She doesn’t know him like I do, the way he drank my lips and called me his angel, the way his fingertips beat the warm blood in my arteries.’ Ingvild shuts her eyes, soaking in the remnants of his touch as it still ghosts across her body.

Erica’s kind, tepid hand wraps around the young woman’s jaw, lifting her pale face with the cautiousness of a human tending a wild creature. Grey and dark-brown collide at the seams as they share a silent stare.

“If you’ll give us his location, we can arrange for your freedom and protection.”

Ingvild breaks away from Erica’s grip, pushing herself back in the chair as much as she can. The screech of metal against marble makes the guards cringe. Slow and cold, a sardonic chuckle begins to burst from Ingvild’s lungs. The laughter echoes off the walls while she shakes her head with disbelief.

“Do I look like a dumb bitch to you? Even if this was true, do you think I’m willing to be a slave to another government? Kept ignorant and tabbed? I’d rather rot in this cell while my beautiful monster dismantles your old world order.”

Drops of water splash at her face as Erica squashes the plastic cup in front of her, sulking with fury. Her eyebrows knit together and she purses her lips as if this young woman is something sour on her tongue.

Evidently, Liam was right; the girl is far too gone, living in the little fantasy world August built for her.

“If you think he ever cared about you for a split second, then you are a dumb bitch. No matter how this plays out, you and August are never going to end up happily ever after.” Erica spits, holding her finger at Ingvild’s childlike frown. “He’s never going to come for you. You were nothing but a toy, a plaything for him to pass the time.”

Ingvild scoffs and rolls her eyes, refusing to let these words cut into the beating muscle in her chest.

`Stick and stones may break my bones...’

Solid, slender fingers wrap around her jaw, squeezing around her cheeks like a big spider. She is met with Erica’s long lashes, while those deep brown eyes slice into her soul.

“You might think you know him, but I’ve worked with August long enough to know that he never loved anything other than his precious ego. So I would consider this as your final chance little girl, because if you don’t talk right now - this nice fellow here...” Erica pauses and gestures her head to the scrawny man who begins to hum a blissful tune while cracking his knuckles. Twisted excitement shines through his beady eyes as he glances at the set of sharp surgical tools lying on the desk.

“He’s going to make you sing like the precious bird you are.”

Fear shies from Ingvild’s stoic, icy face. The well-lubricated gears in the labyrinth of her head begin to work, observing the possible escape options and scanning every cavity, crease, and man in Erica’s lovely torture chamber.

The door suddenly bursts open. A man in his mid thirties with bright red hair and a freckle-covered face rushes in, huffing heavily. His pink skin glistens with sweat, the strands of his fiery hair sticking on his large forehead while his hand holds onto his chest with distress.

“Sloane, there is something you need to see…” he opens his mouth breathlessly.

“Not now!” Sloane snaps at him, looking at Ingvild with contempt. There is nothing she wishes more than to avoid torturing a young woman, especially someone as misguided as this poor porcelain doll. All she needs is to make her see the truth, that August never cared for her, that she was just another pawn in his grand scheme.

“Director, I am sorry, but you really need to come and see this.”

Agitated, Erica snaps in her chair to look at him. “What is it, Agent Louis?”

“It’s John Lark’s manifesto, ma’am…” he sighs, shoulders slumping, “it’s… it’s everywhere.”

A shivering hiss escapes her mouth. The shiver that graces the rail of her spine is like a shower of icy water, making her slowly rise from her chair. August’s harmful “poetry” is released into the air like toxic gas, contaminating every fragile little mind in an already unstable world.

“Do you like my little surprise?” Ingvild asks, making the baffled woman turn to gaze at her. There’s a malicious little smile dancing across her eyes, her brows lifting with an arrogance that strongly resembles Agent Walker.

Swallowing hard, the CIA woman takes a step back, tugging her jacket straight and looking at the torturer who lifts a small hammer between his pliable fingers.

“Break her, until she talks.”

The harsh tapping of her heels dies down and her silhouette becomes smaller until it disappears behind the shutting door.

“Pretty girl...” The man’s voice is brittle and thin as he is, every word ending with a slight snake-like hiss. He moves to scrutinise her from head to toe, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip with a prying nature.

“You know August used to mock me…”

“I can see why,” she spits out, looking back at him with both fearlessness and utter disrespect. She killed men bigger than him, hell, August’s kneaded her to submission and his torture was nothing but sweet.

She can take him on, she can take all of them on.

The lean man beams at her, holding up the small shiny hammer and running his finger over the rim pervertedly. The dead skin around his nails rouses disgust in her gut, yet she rolls her eyes and fakes a yawn.

He chuckles at her theatrics and kneels in front of her with one unstable hand pressing onto her thigh. His revolting fingers scratch gently at her denim, making her shiver. If August knew another man was laying his finger on her…

But August is not here.

“Well… shall we begin, little bird?”

***

‘When this world ends and the new one begins, what will be of your little Valkyrie? Merely bones and rotting flesh laid in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere and mourned by no one. Won’t you be jealous of the insects feasting on her narcotic tissue?’

Cold air seeps through his nose as sharp bullets of hail hit the ground with the fury of angry gods, shattering onto the ruins of an old bridge with a loud, clattering noise. Sheltered from the rage of the heavens, August stands beneath the wreckage, facing the men who came to make the final exchange.

Blue and green ferns have grown over the decaying surroundings, climbing over rusted metal. Nature reclaiming its place over man’s occupied space. Justice and beauty in decadence and rot.

‘Memento mori.’

“The plutonium,” August demands, his thick brows shadowing his eyes in a battle to remain composed. Those same parasitic visions of sheer terror burden him like a daytime nightmare: pale as porcelain, she sinks to the bottom of a lake thick with blood. His hand reaches out for her, fingers trying to grasp whatever he can but she slips away.

‘How far do you think Erica will go this time?’

A rogue droplet of sweat glides languidly down his temple, crossing over a bulging tendon. Unfortunately quite apparent to the three men who scrutinise him with wonder: two well-paid bodyguards and a slimy-looking slug, wearing a dark business suit that does nothing but emphasize his fragile masculinity.

“The money first!” The businessman whines, attempting to make a tough face.

‘A cock and two balls.’ August jests and does his best to remain indifferent while anxiety threatens to claw its ugly talons in his throat. The seller’s receding hairline is thick with dandruff, his dull green eyes attempt to mimic confidence, as a beta male would do when facing a pure alpha, trying to compensate for lost dignity.

‘I don’t have time for this,’ August huffs, his chest puffing and the immense shoulders stretching even wider, exhuming his natural overpowering dominance. His patience runs brittle as a dry twig. A restless throb thunders between his ears like a scab, latched inside his brain.

The slug pries his mouth open to speak, yet his voice becomes dull as if the world just went underwater.

‘Do you think she’ll go as far as to let her men touch her? You know, not just the usual torture they put interrogated suspects through, but the type of touch only you are allowed to.’

‘She doesn’t have the balls, she won’t do that to another woman.’

‘Won’t she? It’s personal this time. Erica knows what you are capable of. And your Ingvild, she’s an apostle too now, an enemy of the world…’

Fever burns at his sweaty forehead and his lungs gradually collapse. Visions he can’t even bring himself to imagine attempt force their way into his mind. The yapping of the man who stands in front of him goes on and on; while August can feel himself speak in response, the words spouting from his lips are on autopilot.

All he can think of is her, stripped naked, torn to shreds by dark shadows.

‘She holds back a lot, but when she slips, aren’t her screams so beautiful? Her pleasant little voice, stretching so melodically, like skin over bone, thin and light.’

“Shut up!”

All eyes lift to August in silent bewilderment. His fists tighten, nails digging into his coarse palms as the will to rip someone to shreds beats through his blood. These men will be no more than a casualty.

“Do you know who I am?” He asks in a deep, menacing tone, his hand but a second from reaching his holster. By measured calculation, he already anticipates how quickly he would shoot them one by one without so much of a scratch on his cheek.

“I’m John, fucking, Lark. My apostles are awaiting orders this very instance,” he reaches for his phone, ignoring the flinch in their posture as he draws it from his pocket and shakes it in his hand on display, “and you want to stand here in this shit weather and measure dicks? Spoiler alert,” he takes a stride in front of the little man, careless of his bodyguards who reach for their weapons, “mine is far bigger.”

The seller peers at him silently, noticing the icy crust of rage in August’s glare. His pale eyes cut like diamonds while the shadow of his brooding figure falls upon the small man’s face.

“You will get your money once I get to see the plutonium and confirm it’s authenticity,” August calls out assertively, each word distinguished, each syllable emphasised and sharp as a blade. Death is no longer an enemy to August Walker but an old friend, and those trolls under the bridge are a mere joke to the inferno he’s been basking at his entire life.

‘Limb by limb, feather by feather, while you waste your time...’

‘She wanted me here, she wanted me to secure the plutonium. If I don’t do this, it will all be for nothing.’

‘So now you are doing this for her?’

Not saying another word, the seller nods and snaps his fingers. Agitation is evident on his face yet the violence emanating from August forces him to bite down his pride. One of his henchmen approaches with a suitcase and opens it up to show August the orbs.

Thunder rips through the sky and the hail turns into a symphony of wrath. Icicles break across the construction site above, splashing water everywhere around them. Staring at the platinum spheres, August sees his own reflection dulled by the dirty silver curve.

A dormant thing. But when set into motion, ever so deadly.

He presses the beryllium rod to test the authenticity of the material and a sigh of relief pipes itself through his nose at the sound of the radioactive note on his testing device. Celebration blooms in his weary heart but the festivity is deemed achingly empty and dies out right away.

‘Stop thinking about her, she’s gone. Focus on the cause, you’re almost there, just keep pushing through the doors.’

~*~

The blizzard melted into shy rain. The soft little drops dampen his hair, perming his large curls with the assistance of the cool winter breeze. Standing with the suitcase on the side of the rural road, August awaits his ride taking him to the helipad to proceed to Kashmir. It has been so long since he last met his true colleagues, since his departure from Lane in Norway. Avoiding any risks, contact was kept only necessary for the last stages of their tasks.

Doom’s day.

Securing the plutonium should have brought him relief, yet his chest continues to sink into his spine as if it’s being filled with coals. August Walker threaded through life alone, yet this sudden solitude is suddenly harrowing, making him feel like a gutted fish. Looking to his empty side he the ghost of her appears, giving him a bratty smirk.

“Go away,” he chides, refusing to think of her. Of that stupid mouth talking back, tormenting him with sweet saccharine and cinnamon-like kisses. In his reminiscences, the softness of her lips still hinges. Tenderness meeting the bristle of his neck as she lay gentle wet markings up his coarse jaw.

His fingers press to his mouth trying to harness the memory.

A large car drives into the side of the road, speeding up and braking right next to his legs, missing August’s foot by an inch. Frowning at the careless driver, he grunts and brushes his hair before opening the passenger door.

“Took you awhile,” he grunts as he slips into the seat and peers at the driver. A bulky man in his early 40s with dark short cropped curls and thin lips. He shoots August a glance and turns back to the steering wheel.

“Not my bad, you made a fucking mess, Lark.” The man answers and begins driving right away, careless of the fact that August didn’t put his seatbelt on and that he is holding radioactive material.

Throwing the seatbelt over himself and fastening it, August growls and carefully secures the case on the side of the driver seat, his index finger remaining on the brim. He gently caresses the hard black leather. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The driver peers at him oddly before looking down the road, driving fast and passing a large log truck. “Releasing the manifesto. MI6 and the CIA are all over the place,” he says and turns the radio on, letting August hear the news on his own. “I get why you did it now, it’s brilliant to cause another distraction but you’ve made shit a bit harder with those cunts running around. They tracked it back from London and have been surveying the entire area.”

“I didn’t release the... “

August stills, his muscles shriveling up as realisation quickly hits him.

‘Oh angel, what have you done?’

Drawing out his mobile phone, August immediately begins to search the newsite, his eyes an ocean of panic, fluttering back and forth. It’s everywhere, news about an anarchist manifesto, spreading like a virus through every social media outlet, leaked by codename “Jane Lark”.

“Fuck,” he hisses, reading his own written word as he goes through an article posted on the BBC’s newsite. But she changed the last verse, added a little piece of her own:

“Valkyries mounted onto beasts, We will ride eternal to the sun. The blazes will sear us but we will not back down, United by our cause of just war, Unflinching we will scour the earth, Until humanity comes together in tranquil and harmony.”

‘She loves you, you see? The way she lets you bleed her, use her, spill all your pain inside her. The way she held onto you just a night ago, your name falling from her lips, her body pressing into yours to take all of you. She’s the only one. The only woman who did and ever will.

And you left her to die.’

________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible and August Walker

#henry cavill #august walker #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker fanfiction #littlefreya’s fiction #mission impossible fallout fanfiction #august walker x ofc #mission impossible fallout

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kiame-sama · 4 years

Note

Imagine Silva’s darling feeling his erection pressing on her while he sleeps so she decided to help so he’ll leave her alone in the morning, but he gets his wish and wakes up to her sucking him off. Reaction ? Please ?

Warnings; yandere, mention of yandere themes, mention of themes from 28 years, oral, dirty talk

~~~~~~~~

The room was nice and quiet, cold nipping at the air beyond your blankets and a warm body pressed up against your back, an arm draped over your side. What it was in particular that woke you, you didn't know. But you did know that there was something stiff pressed against one of your thighs.

'Good lord, is he always hard?'

It was honestly surprising to you to learn just how desperately Silva needed you at almost all times. He always seemed so eager to be by your side and to pin you to the bed or nearest surface as often as possible. Truly, it amazed you that he hasn't gotten bored with the daily tussles he has with you.

You slowly turned in his arms until you faced his chest, looking up at the peaceful expression on his face. He had just returned from a rather lengthy trip last night and you were still a little sore from his need to 'reconnect' with you. He had told you once that he was always unable to sleep while on a job and the longer the job was, the harder it was to keep himself calm. Of course, this made you wonder why he needed you by his side in order to sleep and keep himself in check.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard him whisper your name in his sleep moving to lay on his back with a content sigh. You bit your lip, debating on what you should do. You know if he wakes up hard, he's going to be fucking you for hours once he wakes up.

Maybe you could...

With slow movements, you slid down under the blankets, stopping at his legs. No doubt about it, he was hard as hell. It almost looked painful with how flushed he was from the blood flowing into it. Some long forgotten voice protested against giving him any pleasure to continue retaliation against him.

Ignoring the want to pull away, you rested a hand on his leg to test his reaction. A soft huff of air was all he responded with and that managed to soothe you significantly, settling between his legs comfortably. You were silent for a moment before gripping the twitching appendage, holding it still so you could leave long licks on the heated flesh.

A soft sigh of pleasure came from the man beneath you as you continued working him over. Every flick of your tongue made his breath hitch, slowly moving your way to the tip of his cock. You gently used one hand to slowly caress and cup his balls, giving only the softest of squeezes.

Once you reached his tip, you began licking the soft flesh rapidly. Running your tongue over that weeping slit and gathering up all of his pre-cum and licking him completely clean. More growls and moans escaped Silva's lips as your actions continued. His eyes snapped open the moment you began harshly sucking on his tip, his surprised hum morphing into a deep growl.

Quickly pulling back the blankets, a thunderous moan rumbled through his chest at the sight that greeted him. How many times had he wished for something like this? To wake up to your magnificent tongue against his flesh, seeing you just worship and love on his cock. Your eyes gazed up so sweetly at him as you continued your sinful actions, taking more of him into your mouth.

For once, Silva was powerless. Eyes rolled back and hands gripping the sheets beneath him, he panted breathlessly in bliss. For the first time, Silva easily gave up his control over the situation and allowed himself to be submissive to you. You were the one in control and you knew how to press all the right spots to make him melt beneath your touch.

A surprisingly loud moan escaped his lips as you took him deeper, allowing your hand that had been holding him still to trail up and rest on his stomach. His body twitched and arched beneath you, one of his hands gripping your hand that had been resting on his abs. Slowly he moved your hand with his own, just making you slowly caress his body as you swallowed down his hot cock.

He was past cloud 9. He was in so much pleasure and was focused on you so much that he wouldn't even notice if someone came in at that moment. He waited so long for something as blissful as this to happen. Hell, he had wanted you sucking him off in the morning back before he had kidnapped you.

"Fuck... You're so good at this... Taking me nice and deep..."

As he growled and huffed in pleasure, he continued to move your hand over his body in slow caresses. His eyes were glazed from having just awoken and the bliss that filled his mind afterwards. He was being more vocal than usual, likely a result of his current tired state and the pleasure sparking in his brain.

"Just like that... Mmm... Don't know which I like more, being in your tight pussy or your hot throat. Both are so damn good... Squeezing me just right..!"

His voice was a deep and husky growl in his chest, his hips slightly bucking in response to your continued attention. He was getting close. You could hear it in the way he panted and the sudden jerking of his hips. He gripped your head the moment you took him fully into your throat, cumming with a harsh cry of your name as he fell limp to the bed.

You were surprised to see the smallest of blushes on his pale face as he panted heavily, relaxing back into the pillows. You took a moment to breathe seeing as it was more than a little difficult to breathe with him shoved completely down your throat. When you managed to catch your breath, you slowly settled back into bed next to him, head resting on his chest.

"Keep waking me up that way and I'll wind up putting another child in you."

"Maybe a girl this time?"

"Do you want to have another one?"

"... Maybe."

"Go to sleep, I'll consider it."

You chuckled softly, feeling his arms snake around your body to keep you fully pressed to his chest. He was in a considerably good mood as he rubbed your back, lulling you both back into sleep.

#x reader #lemon #yandere #female reader #yandere x reader #hxh #fem reader #reader insert #silva #yandere silva #yandere silva x reader #28 years story

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carnationcreation · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can I please get an imagine where the reader is Bombay’s daughter and he’s never been around because of his job and that he left the readers mum years ago. But he comes back to coach her team, not knowing she plays and they argue, he pleads to get to know her etc.☺️😄basically the absentee!father x reader who wishes for a father but doesn’t know how to forgive him

TITLE: Forgiveness [Can you imagine?] (Bombay x daughter!reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Prompt/summary: Bombay tries to reconnect with the daughter he walked out on 8 years ago.

Word Count: 2,519

Authors note: You said argue? Alright here’s some angst. It feels so good to be writing for The Mighty Ducks again, this is one of my favorite movies so I’m so happy I got a request for it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every summer I used to get the same letter from my dad. It actually wasn’t even a letter. It was child support.

Every fall we used to stop by the diner in town to get milkshakes to celebrate the anniversary of him leaving us. It wasn’t that he was a terrible dad, she just knew she could do better for the both of us if he wasn’t around. After 8 years she still got the same order every time we went to the diner, and every year Mrs. Conway was still there taking our order.

Her son Charlie was always there too. Both of us played on the same hockey team and every winter we would drag our gear down to the pond to practice with our team.

That entire routine changed after one day.

“Goldburg you’re the goalie, the puck is supposed to hit you,” Charlie sighed as he skated towards us.

“Does that sound stupid to anyone else?” the goalie groaned.

I rolled my eyes at him before lining up another shot.

After a few more shots Charlie tapped my shoulder, he looked in wonder as a car drove out onto the ice. We all wandered over and a man in a finely pressed suit stepped out.

“Wait, that can’t be him-” I mumbled.

“We ain’t buying nothing man, I’m feeling generous today so I’ll let your sorry vanilla bootie outta here before we use your eyeballs as hockey pucks!” Jesse said.

“Thanks bro,” the man rolled his eyes before going to reach in to his jacket, “but I’m not going home ‘til I take care of business.”

The group slowly backed up. When the man pulled out a piece of paper and not a gun we all sighed in relief.

“District five pee-wee hockey team, I’m Gordon Bombay. Your new coach.”

The team laughed as I locked eyes with Charlie. He saw the absolute panic in my eyes.

“Got the roster right here. Averman, Dave. Bombay, (Y/n). Conway, Charlie. ”

His face scrunched up as he got to mine. Confusion or being uncomfortable. Either way I couldn’t tell. Luckily no one seemed to notice the fact that I had the same last name as the coach.

“Here’s the long and the short of it. I hate hockey and I don’t like kids. I’m sure this will be a real bonding experience. Maybe one day, one of you will even write a book about it in jail.”

Charlie nudged my shoulder, looking at me with a questioning look. I sighed, “He used to love hockey, but he really seems to hate kids. My mom said she heard that he got a DWI last week.”

Bombay ordered us to scrimmage. We all dove for the puck. Players tripped and fell over each other as we desperately tried to play. I finally got the puck and started to make a move towards the goal when Jesse (accidentally or not) hooked my ankle with his stick as he fell. Connie skated over quickly to help me up before taking off over to Bombay.

I rubbed my sore elbows as Charlie and I skated back over to the car that was still parked on the ice. Bombay brushed the team off by saying we need to scrimmage more and got back into the car.

“What a jerk,” Peter said.

Eventually the team came to the amazing conclusion we should hijack the car. On Peters mark, we all jumped on the car, shook it, and climbed inside.

“We want a ride! We want a ride!” Connie began to chant as we all joined in.

“Take em for a spin, anything!” Bombay said, we all cheered as they started driving.

The fun didn’t last for long. Charlie’s mom soon appeared on the ice and made us all get out.

She furiously shouted, “Are you out of your mind? What were you thinking putting that car on the ice? My son was in that car!”

“Lady lady relax,” Bombay said, “The ice is not gonna crack.”

��Who the hell do you think you are?” she said. Charlie and I slowly got out of the car and skated to the side to take off our skates.

Bombay sighed, “Gordon Bombay, the new hockey coach.”

Oh lord he was in for it now.

“Oh you’re the dead beat that married (Y/m/n). They send you down here to coach the team and you endanger their lives. You endangered your daughter's life!”

I hid my face with my hand as Bombay looked back at me. Oh god he knows now.

Charlie’s mom eventually pulled us away and drove us home. I knew I’d be hearing about this from my mom later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By order of the state of Minnesota Bombay was at the game the next day. I’d made it my mission to avoid my “dad”. Charlie did a good job of keeping him away, asking him questions or distracting him. I knew I’d have to talk to him eventually but until then I was content with pretending I wasn’t his daughter.

The game was a joke. We didn’t score any goals. Didn’t get a chance to defend ourselves as the Hawks beat us into the ground. 9-0. I left the game with bruises on my face and arms. My helmet was barely covering my face and my hockey pads were my dad’s old ones from the 80’s. One of the few things I stole from his house when we left. Charlie was extremely frustrated at the missed shot he had towards the end of the second period.

As the team sat arguing I was putting my gear up.

“I thought we came here to play hockey. Do you guys think losing is funny?” Bombay yelled.

“It’s not like you coach us or anything. At least we tried,” Jesse said.

Bombay’s face went red with rage, “That was the sloppiest playing I’ve ever seen. Why the hell won’t you just listen to me?!”

I stood up, shouldering my bag, “Why the hell should we?”

The team followed me out of the box.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next game was a disaster. Bombay encouraged us to lie, cheat, and foul our way through the game. Bombay was furious when Charlie wouldn’t do his little act when he was cornered. The bruises on my face still hadn’t healed properly.

The locker room was filled with groans as everyone agreed the game was pathetic.

“Charlie! When I tell you to do something, you do it! Got it?”

“You can’t make me cheat,” Charlie said walking out of the locker room.

Jessie and Terry’s dad stormed into the locker room, “LEt’s go boys. This is what I gave up my overtime pay for? To watch my kids take falls? You’re a pathetic excuse for a coach, and an even more pathetic father if you can let your daughter get beaten up like that.”

The team’s heads turned to me as he pointed in my direction. I let my head fall as I stormed out behind Jessie and Terry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I really thought I could keep avoiding him. I didn’t think he would come and try to find me.

The next day at practice was a shock for everyone. We all got new uniforms, gear, and sticks. Everyone was pumped up during practice and we even got two new players.

“What changed?” I asked Charlie.

He shrugged, “I don’t know. He came and apologized last night.”

My blood boiled. He can apologize to another kid but not his own daughter who he practically abandoned. I warmed up to him as practice went on but in the back of my mind there was still that thought lingering.

“(Y/n), you’re riding home with me,” Bombay told me as I packed up my stuff.

I looked at him confused, “But-”

“Your mom said it was okay.”

I silently followed him out to the car, the driver had rolled up the middle window so we could have some privacy.

“So…” he said, I stayed quiet still looking out the window, “Your mom told me you never quit hockey. Even after I…”

“Left?”

He sighed, “Yeah I guess it was like that wasn’t it?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Look (Y/n), if I had known how much it had affected you I never would’ve stepped out that door. Your mom and I… we just weren’t good together.”

I scoffed, “No, your drinking side just didn’t line up with the fact mom wanted a decent husband.”

He went to speak again but quickly closed his mouth.

“I’ll just imagine me forgiving you. Maybe one day I can actually do it with meaning,” I sighed and went to pick my bag up as the driver pulled up to the curb.

“(Y/n),” he said grabbing my arm, “I already talked to Charlie about this. I’m so sorry for the way I acted. I never should have asked you guys to cheat. And I definitely shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you guys. I’d do anything to try and get you to forgive me.”

“I’m just confused as to why your star player got an apology before your daughter did. I’ve been waiting for that for 8 years. If you truly wanted that from me you should’ve tried a long time ago.”

I slammed the car door as I got out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days I spent at Charlie’s house when my mom wasn’t home, hoping Bombay wouldn’t come track me down again.

“(Y/n)?” Charlie said, “Someone left a package for you.”

I looked up from the comic books that were sprawled across Charlie’s bed in confusion as he sat the brown paper package down. My name was written across it in black sharpie.

Charlie shook his head, “Well, are you gonna open it?”

“I think I already know who it’s from.”

“(Y/n), he really wants to make it up to you. Just open it.”

I sighed and slowly ripped the paper, inside was a jersey. My favorite hockey team’s jersey.

“Woah,” I said.

Charlie scoffed, “Your dad sent you that? How’d he know your favorite team?”

“Cause it’s his favorite too. Charlie this is his vintage jersey.”

“Well,” he said, “Maybe you can start imagining that forgiveness part.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The Ducks? We’re the ducks? What brain dead jerk came up with that name,” Peter scoffed.

“As a matter of fact,” Bombay said pulling a jersey out of the box, “I did. But I didn’t have a choice, we’re being sponsored. You’d rather be district 5? Some stupid number?”

“They don’t even have teeth,” Peter said.

“Neither do hockey players,” he said, we all giggled, “Have you ever seen a flock of ducks flying in perfect formation? It’s beautiful. Pretty awesome how they all stick together. The other animals are afraid, cause they know if they mess with one duck then they’ll get the whole flock.”

Bombay walked around the locker room giving his little speech. He smiled when he got to me, his eyes flicking down to see I was wearing the old jersey he had left for me.

He whipped off his coat to reveal his Ducks jersey underneath as we all laughed, “I’m proud to be a duck, and I’d be proud to fly with any one of you.”

Charlie and I smiled at each other.

“So how about it? Who’s a duck?”

Silence followed as everyone looked around the room to see who would go first.

“I’ll be a duck,” our new player Fulton Reed said.

I smiled and placed my hockey stick on the bench, “I’ll join the flock.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said following suit, “me too.”

Soon enough the whole team joined in. Grabbing jerseys and cheering.

“We are the ducks!” Bombay shouted, “The Mighty Ducks!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few games were amazing. Our winning streak started to pick up and soon enough we were getting ready to face off against Cardinals.

Charlie and I were named the dynamic duo. Our ability to make plays and take shots off of each other improved everyday. But that put a target on our back.

It was the third quarter, we had to make one shot to pull us out of a tie and win. The crowd was going crazy as Charlie and I sped up the ice. Our team following behind us for backup.

It was a stupid idea.

Charlie went to take a shot as I saw a goon defender moving in for the body check. So I threw myself in between Charlie and the goon. My head snapped back against the glass as I heard the buzzer go off signaling a goal.

The team cheered. Charlie frantically raced over to me.

“(Y/n)?”

I could barely hear him, the ringing in my ears was so loud, “Where’s my dad?”

Charlie looked confused before shouting over to Bombay.

“(Y/n)? Can you hear me?” he said.

“Dad?” I started to cry as the pain caught up to me.

“Get her helmet off Charlie,” he said, I felt Charlie gently take it off and the coolness of the ice against the back of my head, “(Y/n) the paramedics are gonna get you off the ice okay?”

I felt myself being picked up off the ice and lifted onto a stretcher, the crowd clapped as I was rolled off the ice.

The ride to the hospital was short, Charlie’s mom called my mom's work to tell her what happened and she rushed over as Casey rode to the hospital with me.

“Where’s my dad?”

“He had to finish up the game, he’s gonna meet us there afterwards.”

Everything happened really fast when we got there, I wasn’t allowed to sleep even though I was super tired.

“Look who’s here” Casey said. I turned to see Bombay and Charlie walking in.

“Woah,” I yelped as Charlie ran over to give me a hug.

“Are you crazy? You won’t be able to play at the next game!”

I laughed, “At least we get a next game. It was worth it.”

He rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair. Bombay sat down in the chair beside the hospital bed. Casey and Charlie walked outside.

“Do you remember what happened after you took that hit?”

I paused trying to think back to earlier, “Um… not really.”

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it in front of the team. You called me dad.”

I turned my head to look down at the sheets, “Oh…”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” he laughed, “But the team is definitely going to have questions for you tomorrow.”

I smiled.

“Alright, grab your stuff. The doctor said you can go, you just can’t practice or play in a game for a week.”

My eyes widened, “A week?!”

“Yes,” he said, “And I better not hear any complaints. I’ll make you run extra. Your moms waiting on us.”

“Where?”

“At the diner, she said something about milkshakes.”

I smiled, “We always get milkshakes after games.”

“Well, it’s on me tonight.”

I jumped up and gave him a hug before running out to grab Charlie. I think I can imagine that forgiveness thing now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @thebookwormlife @talksoprettyjjx @coolreallyfuzzystudentuniverse @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @larrystylinson-sus @lovesanimals @aunicornmademedoit @thexhotmess @ssprayberrythings @registerednursejackie @julieandthephantomsblogduh @fangirling-allday @solophantomsmultis @drxgxnslxyer @schnapp-my-neck

#the mighty ducks #the mighty ducks imagine #gordon bombay #emelio estevez #gordon bombay imagine #gordon bombay x daughter!reader #emelio estevez imagine

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obx-adventures · 4 years

Text

Butterflies

Summary: From dating in junior high to high school best friends is quite a trip.

A/N: I’m having some writers block so I’m hoping this little imagine based on real life will bring the creativity back so I can get started on The Fall.

——

“What’s wrong?” Nick asks as we approach the Chateau. I look over at my boyfriend of 2 months and immediately feel guilty. His face is full of concern for me, so I summon a small smile and pretend to be excited for my birthday party tonight.

“Nothing, sweetie. I’m great.” I grab his hand as we walk up the steps of the porch.

I steel myself before I walk through the door, trying to protect my heart before I see JJ but also worrying that he won’t be here tonight. His girlfriend of 6 months, Amanda, has been keeping him away from the Pogues a lot lately, which has been particularly awful for me. Spending time with JJ is my favorite thing to do but it’s also incredibly painful. Unrequited love is a bitch.

When we walk inside, I’m met with a cacophony of laughter and music. Kie sees us first and runs over to embrace me. She picks me up, spins me around, and yells “Happy Birthday” over and over. Her drunken energy lifts my spirits, buoying me up from edge of despair. Soon after, Sarah, Pope, and John B swarm around me and I’m suffocating in the middle of a group hug.

When they finally release me, I ask the question I’ve been dreading, “No JJ?”

I can’t interpret their responses. John B looks angry, Sarah and Kie are giddy, and Pope is concerned. It’s Pope I focus on and await an answer.

“Umm, he’s in the spare room. He’s… not really in a party mood.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Amanda broke up with him.” I raise my eyebrows at Pope and then look over at Sarah and Kie, finally understanding why they look so happy.

“Ding dong, the bitch is gone!” Sarah exclaims while laughing. None of us liked JJ’s girlfriend, especially when she started isolating him from us three months ago.

Without speaking to any of them, I head toward JJ’s room. I knock softly but let myself in before I hear a reply. I find the room completely dark and see JJ curled under the blankets.

“Hey, J…” He pulls down the blankets enough for me to see his eyes. They’re rimmed in red and his cheeks are tear stained.

“Happy Birthday,” he says softly.

“Thank you. You going to come out to the party?”

“Not in the mood.”

“I know, love.” I sit on the edge of the bed and reach over to brush the hair out of his face. “But maybe being around my sunny disposition would help.”

“She fucking dumped me…” His eyes well up again but he keeps himself in check.

“Pope told me. I’m sorry.”

“I bent over backwards to make it work. And she still fucking left.”

I crawl under the blankets and wrap my arms around him. As soon as he’s in my arms, his tears break free. I hold him tightly and stroke his hair to soothe him.

“I got you, J. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why doesn’t anyone love me enough to stick around? First my mom, then you, now her. What’s wrong with me?”

I breakdown with him at the reminder of my biggest regret. JJ and I have known each other since kindergarten. We became friends in junior high when we sat next to each other in English. Our friendship turned into flirtation and then eventually we started dating. Dating in 8th grade is full of angst and drama but through that, real feelings grew, and I panicked. Right before we started high school, I ended it. I distanced myself from all the Pogues and we didn’t speak for all of freshmen year.

“JJ, nothing is wrong with you. I ended things with us back then because I was scared.” I realize immediately that I’ve revealed too much in trying to comfort him. He lifts his head from my shoulder to look at me.

“You were scared? Of me?”

“No, of course not. I panicked… It doesn’t matter now. I just need you to know that you are amazing and if Amanda doesn’t see that, then fuck her.”

We lay together silently for a while, allowing me to think about how he and I got back to this point. I thought JJ Maybank was out of my life for good after our breakup, but fate had different plans. We ended up in the same class for sophomore English and I was shocked when he sat at the desk next to mine. We reconnected quickly and I was reminded of the purity of his soul, falling in love with him all over again. But at this point, JJ had become the ladies’ man that we all know. He hopped from girl to girl as I sat and watched as one of his best friends. For awhile I thought he had completely soured on relationships after we broke up but then he started dating Amanda. Watching him get closer and closer to her nearly broke me.

“Where’s Wonder Boy?” JJ’s voice breaks me out of the melancholy of memories and it takes me a moment to understand what he’s talking about.

“Oh shit!” I scramble out of bed and turn back to him with my arm outstretched. “C’mon, we need to get back out there. I bolted in here when Pope told me what happened, and I left him out there with everyone else.”

JJ chuckles as he pulls himself out of bed. When he stands up, I have to tear my gaze away from his toned torso before he notices. Once he pulls on a shirt, we rejoin the party.

“He’s alive!” John B yells, throwing his arms into the air in celebration. “Pope, you owe me $10.”

“You couldn’t leave him alone, Y/N?” Pope asks as he hands over the money.

“Nope, he doesn’t get to mope on my birthday.” I jump when I feel Nick’s arm wrap around my waist.

“I thought you forgot about me.” The rest of the group laughs, thinking Nick’s teasing me, but I hear the wounded tone in his voice and feel guilty all over again.

“Course not, sweetie.” I lean in and give him a peck on the lips.

Kie notices the weird vibe between us and breaks the tension by suggesting Truth or Dare. As we gather around the living room, I end up with Nick on my left and JJ directly across from me. Though he’s trying to put on a happy face, his pain is still evident, breaking my heart even more. When he catches me watching him, he offers a small smile to reassure me he’s ok. Nick reaches over and clasps my hand, causing JJ to roll his eyes. I chance a look over at Nick and his face is set in anger.

----

“Y/N, what the hell was happening last night?” I try to avoid Kie’s questioning eyes but Sarah nudges me for an answer. I had a feeling this was going to come up when Sarah invited us over for a girls’ night.

“What are you talking about?”

“JJ, you, and Nick. I thought Nick was going to kill him at one point.”

“Yea… Nick is pretty pissed at me. We got into a fight on the way home. He asked me why I brought him if I was going to ignore him all night. I tried to tell him that I was just worried about JJ, but he said it was all bullshit. He didn’t talk to me the rest of the way to my house. We sat outside for like 5 minutes without saying anything. I finally gave up and went inside. I don’t get why he was so mad.”

“Y/N, it’s just us here,” Sarah says kindly. “JJ followed you around like a lost puppy and I talked to Nick more than you did. What’s going on?”

“Really, nothing is going on.” I desperately want this conversation to end. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Oh shit… you still love him!” Kie almost shouts. “I thought we were past this, Y/N. You’re with Nick now.”

“Kie, I’m not… I’m past it. JJ was just having a rough night and we had a weird talk when I went to check on him.”

“About what?”

I’m saved from talking about my conversation with JJ by my phone ringing. I look at it in confusion when I see that it’s John B calling.

“Hey, JB. What’s up?” Sarah and Kie are equally confused.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for calling while you’re at girls’ night but I need you to come over.”

“What’s wrong? Is JJ ok?”

“No, he’s really drunk and crying. I can’t really understand what he’s saying but he keeps asking for you.”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” I hang up before he has a chance to respond and start gathering up my stuff. “Sorry, ladies. I have to go. JJ is a mess and John B needs me to come over. What? Why are you both looking at me like that?”

“Nothing, go take care of JJ. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

----

“Is Y/N here?” John B looks over at me and opens the door further so Nick can come into the Chateau.

“Hey, Nick…” I look around at the Pogues and my eyes linger on JJ before taking Nick’s hand and leading him out to the porch. “You’ve been ignoring my calls and texts for a week. What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m going on a fishing trip down in the Keys with my dad.”

“Oh, how long will you be gone?”

“Three weeks.” My eyes widen and he looks away from me.

“Wow, that’s a… that’s a long time.”

“Yea, I just wanted you to know I’d be gone.” He still won’t make eye contact with me and is shuffling his feet. I step towards him and grab his hands to get his attention. After a few moments, he finally meets my eyes.

“So what does that mean for us? We haven’t talked since my party last week and now you’re leaving. Are you still mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, Y/N.” He drops my hands and takes a step back while running his hands through his hair. “I’m… fuck, I don’t know. What the hell is going on with you and JJ?”

“Nothing! God, I’m so fucking sick of people asking me that! JJ’s having a hard time and he’s one of my best friends so I’m here for him. Is that so fucking horrible?”

“Helping your friend through a rough patch is fine but why the hell do you think people keep asking you about him?!” He takes a breath and looks away from me for a moment. “Are you in love with him?”

“Nick, come on. You’re reading too much into this.”

“Are you in love with him?!” He yells, causing me to jump. I move closer to him and place both hands on his shoulders.

“I’m with you, Nick. You need to let this go.” He meets my eyes finally and looks like he’s trying to find an answer.

“Fuck this.” His face sets in anger as he steps back and turns to leave. “I’ll be back in a couple weeks.”

“Nick, wait!” He stops at the bottom of the steps and turns back to me. “Where does this leave us?”

“We’ll talk when I get back.” He leaves without another glace back at me.

I sit down on the couch on the porch with my head in my hands. I feel terrible for the pain I’m causing him. Why can’t I just let JJ go and commit myself fully to Nick? Nick is a great guy and he was patient with me when we first started spending time together. He could tell I was trying to heal but he never asked me what caused my pain. Maybe if he had, we could have avoided all of this trouble. Maybe I would have told him about my feelings for JJ and I wouldn’t have let him sweep me away into the hope that caring about him would make me care less about one of my best friends.

“You ok?” I lift my head to look at JJ and wipe away my tears. He sits down next to me on the couch and pulls me into his side. “What happened?”

“Nick… um, he’s going out of town with his dad for a few weeks.”

“And that’s why you’re crying?”

“No… he’s still angry. I don’t know where we stand right now.”

“Why’s he angry?”

“He thinks… nevermind, don’t worry about it.”

“Nope, you’ve been taking care of me all week. Talk to me, love.”

I steady myself and meet his gaze. We started calling each other pet names back in junior high as a joke since everyone assumed (correctly) that we liked each other. Then we picked it right back up as we became friends again. ‘Love’ is the one that stuck, and it never went away when he was with Amanda and I started dating Nick, we just only say it when it’s just the two of us.

“Let’s go back inside.” I stand up before he can respond but he grabs my hand to stop me. “JJ, I can’t get into this right now. Ask me another time, ok?”

When we head back inside, everyone’s questioning eyes are on me. Instead of talking, I get myself a beer and chug it down. The Pogues pick up on my avoidance and resume their conversation. I can feel JJ watching me but continue to avoid his gaze, unwilling to show him the storm of emotions that I’m trying to suppress.

----

I’m awaken in the middle of the night by a noise I can’t place. It takes me a moment to understand that it was a knock on my window. I groggily climb out of bed and shuffle over to open the window, not bothering to open my eyes all the way to see who my visitor is. Since Nick left 2 weeks ago, JJ has come by almost every night when he can’t sleep.

“I told you to just come in.” I mumble at him.

“Felt like a creep comin’ in while you were asleep.”

“Don’t care, I’d still be dreaming.”

“What were you dreaming about?” He lays down next to me and brushes the hair out of my face. “Love, don’t go back to sleep.”

“It’s ‪2am‬, J.” He laughs a little at how grumpy I sound.

“I know but I want to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“I don’t care, whatever you want.”

“I want to sleep.” I grope my hand over to find his face and cover his mouth. I feel his smile before he pulls my hand away.

“Please… tell me a story.” Usually when he comes over, I let him in and we quickly fall asleep next to each other. Something must be bothering him.

“JJ, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just want to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“Because I like the sound of your voice.” One eye quirks open at this and I furrow my brow at him.

“J, what’s going on? You normally aren’t this chatty.”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Ok… what is it?” I push myself up onto my elbow so I can see his face.

“I don’t want to say it yet. I was hoping you talking would settle my nerves first.”

“Don’t be nervous. Just say what you need to say.”

When he’s quiet, I lay back down and try to relax. Just as I’m about to fall back asleep, he opens his mouth.

“You give me butterflies…”

“I what?!”

“Whenever I’m around you, hell even when I’m just thinking about you, I get butterflies in my stomach. Which is really fucking weird because I’m always thinking about you. So… butterflies all the time.”

I’m stunned into silence. He rolls over so our faces are inches away and tentatively cups my cheek in his hand, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. I close my eyes at his touch and feel my heart start to race. I give JJ butterflies. Me. And he said he’s always thinking about me. When the hell did that start?

“Since when?”

“Since always.”

“Always?” I ask, confusion lacing my voice. “Like since we became friends again?”

“No, since we became friends the first time. Since 7th grade. I thought it went away when we didn’t talk for all of freshman year but then I walk into sophomore English and I thought I was going to pass out when I saw you. It’s never gotten better, even when I was with Amanda, which was the whole reason she stopped hanging out with the Pogues.”

“Huh?” Now I sit up, hoping to finally understand why Amanda kept JJ away from us all that time.

“The last time she did, we all went to the beach. You and I got into a splash fight in the water while she was sitting in the sand. You dunked me and I lifted you up and threw you. When I got out, she said she wanted to go and then she spent the whole car ride back to her place yelling at me about flirting with you in front of her. So, she didn’t come around anymore. But then she heard about that Boneyard party a couple of months ago when you fell asleep leaning against me around the fire and I carried you back to the Chateau. She didn’t want me to see you anymore.”

“That’s why you were never around?”

“I thought that it was for the best for us to be apart for a while, maybe the damn butterflies would go away. But it didn’t do any good. There were a few times when we saw you out on a date with Nick and it felt like I was sucker punched in the stomach. When she broke up with me, I thought it was because of you.”

“Was it?”

“No, she said she found someone else. That’s why I was so upset, I don’t… I don’t do very well with being left. But you’ve been with me these past couple weeks… and once I got past the rejection, I remembered she was never the person I wanted anyway.”

I turn away from him and sit on the edge of the bed, thinking furiously. Everything he said makes sense, but none of this feels real.

“Can I ask you something?” I turn back to him and nod, not trusting my voice. “Why has Nick been such a dick since your birthday?”

“He thinks I’m in love with you.”

“Are you?”

All I can do is nod again. When he moves forward to kiss me, I put up my hand to stop him. “I’m still technically in a relationship with Nick, love.”

“I know but –”

“No buts. How could I ask you to trust me if I cheat on him with you?” He growls in response but lays back down.

“When does he come back?” I lay back down too but we both keep to our side of the bed.

“A week, I think.”

“We’ve waited this long, I guess another week won’t kill me.”

——

“You have got to be kidding me?!”

I jolt awake the following morning at the loud voice and am shocked to see Nick standing at the foot of my bed. He’s staring in the area to my left and I suddenly remember JJ is in my bed.

“Nick, it’s not what it looks it!”

“Really? So I’m imagining JJ in bed with you?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Nothing happened between me and JJ.”

“Oh sure, that’s totally believable.” He throws his hands up and leaves my room.

I turn to JJ who is smirking at me. I roll my eyes at him and get up to follow after Nick.

“Where are you going?”

“To talk to Nick, to explain.”

“Why does it matter? You were going to break up with him anyways and I don’t think he’s going to believe you.”

“It matters to me. Even if he doesn’t believe me, I need him to know the truth.”

I run out of my room and catch Nick as he’s getting in his car.

“Nick, please let me explain!” I catch him as he’s opening his car door.

“Did you have sex with him?” His anger and pain are written all over his face.

“No! We didn’t even kiss.” When he scoffs, I add, “I promise.”

“Your word doesn’t mean a lot here. You also told me nothing was going with you two.”

“Nick, I’m sorry. Really, I am. I was in denial... You know how I was a bit of a mess when we started hanging out? Well, that was because I was in love with JJ and he was with Amanda. But I swear, I thought I had gotten past it when we actually started dating. Being your friend, spending time with you, helped. And I thought the feelings for him were gone when I realized I had a crush on you.”

“When did you figure out that you’re still in love with him?” I chew on my bottom lip and look at my feet. “When, Y/N?”

“When we ran into him and Amanda at the Wreck, maybe a month after we started dating.”

“That was 2 months ago! You could have saved us all a lot of fucking pain if you just ended it then.”

“I... I’m sorry, Nick.” My voice drops to a whisper as I add, “I thought it would get better if I gave it time.”

“What about me?! While you were trying to get over him, I was falling in love with you! I spent the past two weeks moping instead of fishing, which is why my dad brought us home a week early. He told me I was being a jackass and to come straight here to apologize. He said it would be romantic to just show up, to surprise you. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t call, who knows how much longer this charade would have gone on. Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I was planning to tell you everything when you got back...”

“Great... well, consider us over. You two deserve each other.”

After I watch him drive away, I walk back inside and find JJ waiting right inside the door. He wraps his arms tightly around me and kisses my temple.

“I am such a shitty person...” I start crying into his shoulder while he strokes my hair.

“No, love, not at all. This was a fucked up situation for all of us.”

“I hurt him so badly.”

“He’ll be ok.” When I scoff at him, he adds, “Eventually.”

We stand there in each other’s arms for a little bit until he pulls back to tell me he needs to go to work.

“Can I come back later?” I nod at him and he kisses my forehead before he leaves.

——

It’s been two weeks since Nick and I broke up and JJ and I have spent almost every moment together. But nothing has happened between us yet. No kissing, no more talks about butterflies, nothing. At first I thought JJ was just trying to give me space after how awful things went with Nick but now I don’t know.

“JJ, what are we doing?” I finally ask him. Instead of watching the movie, I’ve spent most of it staring at him laying on his side of the bed, trying to find the courage to ask him what’s been bothering me.

“Umm, watching this shitty movie that you picked.” He turns towards me and sees the tears building in my eyes. “Love, what’s wrong?”

“I thought... what happened... did the butterflies go away?”

“Fuck, no, of course not.” He brushes away the tears that slipped down my cheeks. “I didn’t know if... you were so upset after you talked to Nick... I didn’t know if something changed or if you thought you picked the wrong guy or, shit, even if you were forced into your choice because he found me in your bed.”

“JJ, you’ve always been my first choice. I got scared when we were kids because I realized that I will always want you. I just never thought I could keep you. Even at 14, I knew you are the man of my dreams. But I’m just me. I thought if I said goodbye first, I might be ok. But I’ve regretted it every day since. I’m so in love with you, JJ. I always have. I think I always will.”

We stare into each other’s eyes for almost an hour as we lean against my head board. In those ocean blue eyes, I see his internal struggle. I give him time to process everything I’ve said, knowing that it’s contrary to everything he’s been told his whole life.

“You aren’t just you, love.” He leans closer to me, our noses are centimeters apart. “You’re the most important person in my life. I love you.”

He closes the remaining distance and kisses me gently. I press closer and he deepens the kiss, resting his hand softly on my cheek. He pulls back and gives me my favorite JJ smile.

“The butterflies definitely didn’t go away, love.” I smile back at him and go back in for another kiss.

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justanother-unluckysoul · 3 years

Text

Working My Way Back To You 9/11

Killian gets captured. When Emma finally rescues him, he’s traumatized and nearly broken from the torture he endured. Angst and h/c galore as Emma helps him through it.

I tried to go easy on the whumpy side of it since it’s supposed to be for Comfortember, but it’s me so I probably failed lol

A/N: Oof this chapter got away from me a bit lol I strayed back into whumpy territory a little in this one, as Killian talks about some of his trauma, but he does get comfort in the present time.

Warnings for this chapter: a bit of smut (I probably don’t have to warn for that since this story is already M rated but it’s there, so) (also it’s my very first attempt at smut and I’ve rewritten that scene only like a bazillion times haha but I’m still so nervous to post it, I just hope you guys don’t hate it)

Unbetad as always so mistakes are all mine.

Tagging @cocohook38 as requested.

Read this chapter on AO3

Working My Way Back To You

Road Trip + Campfire

It had been Archie’s idea for Emma and Killian to get away for a while. Go down the coast, he’d said, find yourself. Reconnect with each other. Killian didn’t know how camping was supposed to help with any of that. But Emma had seemed excited about the prospect when he’d mentioned it to her, and he never could deny her wishes so here they were, sitting on a log in a forest in the middle of nowhere, where Killian could hear the ocean but not see it through the trees. The campfire crackles and pops and the heat against his front is a sharp contrast to the chill at his back, and perhaps they hadn’t thought this through very well because even through his layers Killian can still feel the cold now that the sun has gone down. Although it has been unseasonably warm lately, the night air still carries quite a bite. Emma’s tucked into his right side, a blanket around her shoulders. She seems happy despite the cold, her stomach full of the fish they’d caught from the sea earlier that day, and the ‘marshmallows’ she’d insisted on bringing along – yet another sticky, sugary treat Killian couldn’t quite stomach. He’d tried two, toasted over the fire until they were gooey on the inside, but they sat uncomfortably in his gut and he left the rest for Emma. He’s not sure if it was the problem was the marshmallows, or the fact that his anxiety is rising again just from being in a forest. Spending centuries on a jungle island, at the whim of a malicious demon, had ruined it for him. On a good day, he could shove it down, bury it deep where all his other vulnerabilities lived. But today is not a good day.

“What are you thinking about, Killian?” Emma asks, and he supposes he has been quiet for too long.

“Just… things.”

“Good things?”

He wishes.

“No.”

“Oh.”

She’s got her fingers on his chest, toying absently with the hairs at the unbuttoned top of his shirt. He wonders if she’ll ask for more of him. He wonders if he can give it this time. He thinks about her body pressed against his and her gentle hands removing his clothes, and maybe he wants to try it again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emma asks.

Her unexpected question forces an alteration of Killian’s thoughts that is abrupt and unpleasant. Because that’s why they’re really out here, isn’t it? To talk about things. Reconnect, whatever the hell that meant. He doesn’t want to do this. He really, really doesn’t want to dip his toes back into those memories. It’s bad enough he has to bare his soul for the cricket on a regular basis.

“I…”

Where does he start? How can he tell her the true horrors he endured in the cellar? And does she even want to hear it – how they’d seemingly delighted in every strangled groan and grunt he couldn’t hold back under the torture, and how they’d laughed when they finally forced a scream from him? That his only comfort was the hallucination of her, kneeling at his side in the cell telling him everything would be okay as he struggled to breathe around the pain consuming his body? Bloody hell, he’s shaking again at the thought of saying any of that to her.

“We don’t have to do this,” Emma says, giving him a way out that he desperately wants to use.

But Killian Jones is not a coward.

“No, it’s… I can…”

“Breathe, Killian,” she coaches, sitting up straighter and her hand moves up to cradle his face, “Breathe. You’re okay.”

He takes a breath. And another. And slowly the tendrils of panic release him.

“I saw you there,” he blurts out before his mind can talk him out of it again, “In the cell with me. You brought me comfort amongst the torment…”

“Killian, you have to be still. Just be still. It’ll only hurt more if you move.”

He blinks drowsily at her standing beside him, her hands gentle on his battered body as he hangs from the shackle. Perhaps he should listen to her advice. The pain of fighting to keep his feet under him is making it harder to breathe. Harder to think. And he needs to think. But…

“Emma, how are you here?” he gasps, and his eyes fill with tears of relief.

Her hand caresses his face as she smiles, and he wants to weep from how good it feels. Her love. Her kindness. How long has it been since anyone has touched him in such a way? How long has he been shackled in this cold cell?

“It’s okay,” she says with so much tenderness, “Everything’s going to be okay now. Go to sleep, Killian.”

His eyes flutter closed. He’s so cold. He’s so tired. Everything hurts but it’s okay because Emma’s here.

“That’s why you didn’t know if I was real,” Emma says quietly, “when we found you. I thought… I thought I’d lost you. That they’d….”

She’s pressed tightly against his side again as he hesitantly shares the story with her.

“I was so scared, Killian.”

“Aye, love. Me too.”

He hadn’t meant to admit that, but he had been terrified. He’d kept it hidden from his captors as best he could but by the end, he knew he was failing. There’s only so much a man can take. And they’d known that, finding his weaknesses and pushing him past his breaking point. For two weeks, he suffered at their hands.

“Focus on your breathing, Killian,” Emma says softly.

He’s shivering, naked against the cold floor, exhausted from the pain yet unable to sleep because of it. His ruined hand feels so unbearably hot that he envisions it may well burst into flames, every involuntary twitch of his broken fingers sending a blazing agony up his arm. And further down his body there’s still the terrible, terrible burning sensation from his captor’s latest game.

“I d-don’t want you to s-see me like this, Emma,” he whispers through chattering teeth, his eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s okay. You know I’m not really here.”

The reminder that he is alone is too much. It’s like a wave of emotion cresting, and crashing into him with immense force, making him want to howl his rage and despair until his lungs are empty. But he only allows a whimper. He won’t give them the satisfaction of knowing how utterly broken he is.

“Just breathe,” not-Emma murmurs, her imaginary fingers on his face close enough to the real thing that Killian feels himself melting into her touch, “Just keep breathing, Killian.”

“It felt so real. I know it wasn’t, but… you helped me to stay sane. I would have lost myself if it weren’t for the image of you at my side.”

The fire is burning low now and the loss of its heat is making him shiver. Emma moves the blanket so it’s resting over both of them, and her hand settles on his left forearm as she burrows closer into his right side, like she can cuddle the fear right out of him. He appreciates the gesture, struggling with the mental distress of releasing the memories from that box in his mind. Of admitting his fears to Emma. And he has barely touched on what they did to him in that cellar. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to, not to Emma.

“I’m sorry it took us so long to find you,” Emma says.

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not. We were nearly… we were nearly too late, Killian, you were…”

“Almost gone,” he whispers, staring blankly into the campfire.

When he swallows, he can taste blood, having bitten either his tongue or his lip – he doesn’t know which one – trying to hold back his cries during his last torture session. It hadn’t even helped, not for long enough. His strength is entirely depleted. The pain throughout his body has faded to a dull, miserable sort of ache, that he’s grateful for because it’s better than the fire that had consumed him before. And he realizes distantly that this is it, this is the end. It’s not how he thought he’d go – and he’s thought about it a lot over his too many lifetimes. A quiet, distraught sound escapes his parched throat at the thought that Emma will be too late to save him. He’s not afraid to die, his heart doesn’t ache for himself but for her, how terrible it will be for Emma to find his corpse. How long will it take? But wait, here’s Emma now, her hand gently rubbing at his curved back as he lies there helpless.

“Emma?” His lips move, but he doesn’t think he’s actually spoken aloud.

He doesn’t seem to have the strength for that anymore, but that doesn’t matter. Emma presses her lips against the back of his bare shoulder. He can feel her hair tickling his skin.

“Ssshhh,” she shushes him, “I’m here.”

But she’s not really, he knows that. It’s just his mind playing a trick on him again. But he might as well take the comfort it seems willing to provide in his final hours.

“Hold me, Emma. Please, I want to feel your embrace as I go.”

Not-Emma’s arms slip under him, lifting him effortlessly into her embrace. The motion hurts in a way in shouldn’t because this isn’t real, but he moans weakly anyway.

“It’s okay, Killian. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

It’s hard to breathe, but he knows that won’t matter for much longer. Emma’s fingers move lightly over his cheek, across his jawline, caressing his face as she holds him steady. He feels like he’s floating now, only her touch keeping him from disappearing into nothing. Killian feels immensely grateful for her comfort. He doesn’t bother to open his eyes, content to imagine how she looks, the smile on her face, the kindness in her eyes. The love she has for him is flowing into his body, easing his suffering in his final moments. But his captors come back for him, one more time and he just wants this to be over.

“Just bloody finish it,” he says, and he can tell he’s said it aloud this time by how feeble his voice sounds.

He floats away again and he doesn’t want to come down, but they pull him back, holding his right arm too tightly and he can’t take any more of this, can’t take the pain that he knows is going to overwhelm him in a moment when they aggravate his broken fingers again just for the fun of it. He shakes and writhes and implores for them to stop and he promised himself, he promised Emma they could not break him, but they have. By the gods, they have. But not-Emma is still here somehow, and her touch feels more real than it ever has. She’s never been there during his tortures, only afterwards in his cage, and Killian struggles to focus on her. She looks scared this time and Killian doesn’t like it. He wants desperately to let go, to escape this torment, but she looks so sad he can’t bear to leave her like this. But his body is giving up and he has no choice.

“I’m so sorry, Emma.”

Slowly, the world begins to disappear again. And not-Emma says she’s real now, and he almost believes it. He wants to believe it, that she has really found him, even if she’s come too late to save him. She tells him just to rest, her fingers curled tightly around his shoulder, soothing and steadying. Her permission is all he needs. Killian finally submits to the void that’s been beckoning to him so enticingly, and he doesn’t expect to wake up again.

Emma’s sniffling jolts Killian out of the morbid tale he was telling, his voice monotonous as he tried to distance himself from the event, and he realizes he’s lost some time by the way the fire is only embers now.

“Emma? What’s wrong, love?” he asks with concern, giving his head a quick shake to remove what feels like cobwebs out of his brain.

“S-sorry,” she says weakly, her voice quivering, “I just… I didn’t know how close it actually was. Another few hours and… God, Killian.”

Oh. Oh.

“No, I’m sorry, truly. This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have told you all that.”

He tries to twist away slightly so he can see her face, but she’s holding onto him too tightly. And she’s weeping freely now, sobbing into his shirt. Curse the cricket for this suggestion, it’s only made things worse. And curse Killian too for going along with it.

“Hey, it’s okay, Emma. I’m with you. It’s okay.”

He repeats her own words back to her, the words she’s used for him so frequently of late, when he wakes panicked in the night or finds himself suddenly unable to catch his breath as the memories cloud his mind. His hand rubs at Emma’s back, trying to soothe her, and he wishes, gods, he wishes he had a second hand with which to wipe her tears away. Though he can’t move his left arm at all right now anyway, because she’s clinging onto it like she’ll float away if she doesn’t.

“Sshhh, love, be calm,” he continues, slipping in his own phrases now, folding himself around her as much as he’s able, sheltering her as she falls apart, “We’re okay now. We’re okay. Just breathe, there’s a good girl. Shh, it’s going to be alright, Emma.”

Slowly her body begins to relax in his arms, and after a while she takes a shuddering breath and sits up to scrub away her tears, and grabs a handkerchief from her pocket to blow her nose. Killian pulls the flask of rum from his pocket and pushes it gently into her trembling hands when she’s done.

“Drink up, Swan, and I’ll tend the fire.”

He needs a moment to calm himself as well and placing some more logs on the fire is a perfect excuse to get him the space he needs, and a simple task to ground himself firmly in the present. Emma stares at the flask in her hand with red-rimmed eyes as Killian carefully tends the fire, expertly poking at and blowing on the embers around the new wood he’s placed on it, until it flares back to life, driving away the chill.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” Emma says with a little, self-deprecating sort of laugh, “I’m supposed to be strong, for you. Because I’m fine, you’re the one that was…”

Tortured.

“Hey now, none of that,” Killian says firmly, dropping to one knee in front of her so he can lift her chin and look into her eyes, “You are strong, love, far stronger than I would be in your place. You figured out where I was and you saved me, Emma.”

He takes her hand in his and presses a kiss to the back of it while never breaking eye contact, his lips lingering on her skin as he makes certain she can see in his face how much he means what he’s saying.

“You saved me,” he repeats softly when he finally lifts his mouth again, “I owe you everything. You’re not a mess, Emma, you’re a bloody hero.”

She smiles, hesitant at first but growing wider and then she puts the unopened flask aside in favour of leaning forward to kiss him. He meets her halfway, surging upwards with a bit too much force that accidentally sends Emma toppling backwards off the log with a yelp and Killian falling with her, frantically trying to break their fall without hurting her. He must manage it, because when they make eye contact in this compromising position, Emma’s giggling and Killian can’t help the sound bubbling up his throat too because he’s experienced far too many emotions in such a sort time tonight and he’s feeling a little giddy.

“Sorry, love,” he says, trying to suppress his undignified giggling, “That was…”

But now he’s acutely aware of how close they are, how her hands are clinging to him, and how her thigh is conveniently pressing between his legs. His glee abates as it’s replaced by another feeling – he really, really wants to kiss her again, and deeper this time. And he can barely keep up with all these sensations and he doesn’t even care at this point, his head feeling a little dizzy at the intoxicating nearness of Emma, of her scent and her touch. He wonders if – he hopes – that Emma can feel the heat between them too.

“I’m fine, Killian, it’s fine. Are you-”

He gives in to his body’s urges despite his reservations and swallows the rest of her question, his lips capturing hers and his tongue seeking entrance to her mouth, and she immediately responds in kind, almost hungrier for it than he is. Thank the gods, Killian thinks, because if she hadn’t been in the mood, he would have felt stupid, though he most likely could get her into the mood without much effort. The passion between them builds even higher and Killian is desperate for more. He presumes his eyes possess the same dazed look that Emma’s do as they both take a moment to catch their breath.

“Emma, may I…” Emma waits patiently while he finds the words, find the courage to say what he wants, her hand stilling against his chest. “I want to… I want to make love to you.”

Emma laughs a little, like she always does when he uses that phrase (nobody calls it that anymore, Killian but he’s not quite comfortable using a more vulgar term, not to Emma, she’s too perfect and too good and it would be very bad form to say anything like that in her hearing) but she also blushes slightly, and he can see she’s just as eager for it as he is.

“Okay.”

With a wave of her hand, Emma extinguishes the campfire, and then they can hardly keep their hands off each other as they move to the privacy of their tent. The moment they are inside Killian is overcome with the burning desire to touch more of her skin right now.

“Less clothes,” Killian demands, and Emma grins, pulling her lower lip between her teeth before she starts taking her layers off.

She doesn’t ask him to take his own off, sticking to her promise that she won’t push him, but he wants to. He wants this. He’s tired of being a coward. His fingers hurry to remove his own clothing (and he’s never been more thankful to have the use of those five fingers again than at this precise moment), and in a moment Emma is more or less naked in front of him and he’s in a similar state, at least from the waist up. Now his mouth can explore her newly exposed flesh and he delights in the sounds he can pull from her by doing so. Emma’s hand rests against the back of his head, the other bracing herself, leaning back as he takes what he wants. It’s a slow and tender sort of lovemaking; hands drifting slowly across skin, mouths savouring the taste of the other, hushed words of reverent appreciation, and this is exactly what Killian needs. They take their time, neither in a hurry to go further yet, just enjoying getting lost in the sensations.

“Emma.” Killian is the one to break away, feeling the urgency, the need, beginning to override his uncertainties about what he intends to do.

“What is it?”

Killian’s looking up at Emma’s flushed face as he leans back on his elbows on the mattress, her lips slightly swollen from his earlier attentions, her hair a gloriously wild tangle and the colour bright in her cheeks. He’s taken off the brace and hook because they’re in such tight quarters right now, there’s a high chance his hook would rip the side of their shelter when they really get into it, and it would only take a moment of inattention, the briefest impulse to anchor himself to something, and the flimsy material would be rent right open. He doesn’t need one more thing to be concerned about tonight. Not with what he is about to do. Killian hesitates for a second before he grabs Emma’s hand in his and guides it to his belt buckle – his jeans the only thing he’s still wearing besides his socks and his rings and the charms around his neck.

“Are you sure?” Emma asks, her fingers curling into the waistband at the front of his jeans.

“Yes,” he murmurs, quickly, before he can lose his nerve again, “just… just go slow.”

Her eyes flick back up to his several times, checking on his wellbeing as she slowly releases him from the confines of his trousers. He can feel the memories clawing at the edge of his mind, but he keeps watching her, focuses on the feel of her soft fingers brushing against his skin as he lifts his hips and allows her to tug his jeans down and off. Then it’s over and now Emma’s moving back up his body, taking his face in her hands and gazing into his eyes.

“Still with me?” she asks quietly.

There’s no denying that his body is responding to their activities, but Emma just wants to be certain his mind is on board with it as well, after how badly he reacted last time. She’s good like that.

“Aye, keep going, love.”

And then her hand slips down and there, bloody finally. Killian allows himself to get lost in the sensations for a glorious interval. Emma could easily get him off just like this, she’s done it before, her talented hands and her mouth – oh gods, her mouth, a shudder runs through him at the thought – and he’s strongly tempted to allow her to continue, if he didn’t have another plan for tonight. He needs… He needs.

“Wait,” Killian chokes out, and she stops immediately, looking at him with concern.

“What’s wrong? Is this too much?”

“No. I mean, yes, but… Not for the reasons you think.” He breathes deeply, gathers his wits, and his fortitude. “I don’t want to finish like this, Emma, I want… I want you. I want to be… inside you.”

He’s seconds away from adding a pathetic please because she’s so close to him, but not close enough and his skin is tingling with desire. But before he has to, Emma leans forward and her mouth claims his again, scorching and demanding and keeping him firmly rooted in the present time. When she pulls back, his head spinning a little from how hard she’s kissed him, she slips her arm behind him – sit up, Killian, I want to hold you –and he follows her guidance willingly until he’s sitting on the edge of their camping bed, his heart pounding against his ribs because he knows, he knows how good she will make him feel. Then she’s on him and around him, astride his thighs as she settles onto him. His hand finds its way to the swell of her bare arse, drawing her down, coaxing her to take him in further.

“That’s it, love,” he murmurs, and there’s a shameless moan from the back of his throat as she wraps her legs around his waist, taking him deeper, “Gods, you feel so bloody good, Emma.” Because Emma loves it when he tells her how much he’s appreciating what she’s doing to him – and bloody hell, he is appreciating it. A lot. And she’s barely done anything yet.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Emma says quietly, her hot breath against his ear sending a shiver of eager anticipation down his spine, “Tell me if you need me to stop, at any time and I will. Okay?”

Killian nods his assent, and slowly she begins to move, murmurs words of praise to him as her fingers bury themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, her other hand slipping behind his back to hold him close. This position is soft and intimate and wonderful as all his senses become completely immersed in everything Emma. There’s no room for any other feeling, or any other thought. She’s holding onto him as she sets the pace and he’s kissing whatever part of her he can reach, using lips and tongue and teeth the way she likes it and she tastes amazing and he can’t get enough and gods, she is going to drive him insane. He enjoys it rough, sometimes – most times – and Emma always obliges, but tonight she takes him gently, lovingly, carefully, all soft phrases and leisurely movements. And it’s exactly what Killian needs, his fears falling away, this tender coupling the complete opposite to the last time he was at someone’s mercy. And as well as he knows her to work her up, Emma knows how to do the same to him, and despite the slowness of it all Killian finds himself teetering on that edge far quicker than he’d expected. Emma’s quiet moans and gasps as she rides him lets him know she’s not far behind, and he desperately hopes she’s close enough that he won’t leave her unsatisfied.

“Emma… gods, Emma, I’m…” Killian groans, long and loud in the quiet of the forest, his jaw tight as he struggles to keep himself in check. “I’m going to…”

“It’s okay,” she says, strained and tremulous and breathless and still continuing the same steady, relentless pace, “It’s okay. Come for me, Killian.”

“You first, darling,” Killian grits out because damn it, he’s a gentleman.

But he’s too close, he can feel it, he’s not going to be able to hold out. His rhythm is beginning to stutter and he’s losing control. He is wrecked, his endurance is usually better than this and he has to take a moment to breathe, his forehead falling forwards onto Emma’s shoulder. Thankfully Emma seems to take pity on him, for she pauses her motion while he collects himself. Only a moment, but it’s enough. He can tell she’s close, if he could just-

“Right there, yes, oh god Killian,” Emma gasps, pulling harder at his hair, her fingernails scratching lightly against his back, “Don’t stop, please, please, Killian, I’m so close.”

His response is a growl, primal and desperate, her almost frenzied pleas sending him past the point of no return. He has no intention of stopping. Another panted yes and god and then she’s clenching tight around him, his actions bringing her to her peak and his name tumbles from her lips as she shatters and it’s too much and it’s perfect and – and – and he’s there and nothing else matters as they both fall apart.

-/-

No, actually they were ‘coming together’ in every sense of the phrase, is the first thought Killian’s brain has when he’s able to think anything at all again and he snickers into the juncture of Emma’s neck and shoulder as she remains in his arms, equally as blissed out as he is.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, still out of breath, and Killian’s hand slides up the smooth curve of her back.

“Just thinking.”

He lifts his mouth to hers and kisses her deeply, slowly, pouring all his devotion and gratitude into it, only stopping because he wants to be certain Emma knows how much she means to him.

“Emma, you’re a marvel and I love you.”

“Right back at you,” she says, smiling, sparkling eyes even in the dimness of their shelter, a bit of a flush to her cheeks, “That… that was okay, then?”

She looks unsure now, like she’s pushed him further than he was ready for, like she’s broken her promise, and this was what Killian was concerned about – Emma’s insecurities coming to the forefront. He wants those doubts banished from her mind immediately. He brushes some of her wayward hair behind her ear, his touch lingering against her skin, thumb drawing a path along her jawline on the way back.

“It was perfect, love,” he assures her, “You were perfect. You gave me everything I asked for. And… I hope my performance was satisfactory as well?”

A smirk punctuates his salacious question, a little lift of his left eyebrow and there, the uncertainty is gone from Emma’s face like it never existed, replaced with a rather coy smile that Killian much prefers.

“Very.”

They move, eventually, lying down side by side on the mattress and they remain like that, sharing gentle affections and whispered adoration, for quite some time, until the mood gradually changes to something needy once more. Killian moves over the top of her and smiles wickedly, enjoying the way Emma’s breathing has quickened already before he’s even begun, because now it’s his turn to be in control, and she knows very well what his intentions are. It’s time to repay his beautiful Swan for the pleasure she bestowed upon him.

to be continued...

#comfortember 2020 #cs ff #cs fic #cs smut #only in this chapter though #hurt/comfort #whump #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #my fanfics

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cheeriecherry · 4 years

Text

Birds Of A Feather [5/7]

Hawks x Fem!Reader

Warnings: kissing, allusions to smut but nothing explicit

Part 5/7

The next day, you wake up early. Not so early that you’re inclined to roll over and go back to sleep, but enough that you’ll have time to make and enjoy breakfast.

Keigo is still snoozing beside you, cuddled tightly in a cocoon of soft blankets. You’re glad. After yesterday, he certainly deserves a good rest. You lean over and press a kiss to his forehead, smiling gently at his peaceful face.

After he’d kissed you last night, you’d been worried, as his piercing gaze stared down at you. Worried he didn’t mean it in the way you wanted, worried your feelings would get rejected. But he’d just looked at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen him wear, and reconnected your lips. You’d stayed on the floor for a good ten minutes, holding each other close and making out like a pair of teenagers.

He insisted you share a bed with him afterwards, in the most innocent way possible. He promised he'd sleep better with you nearby, but you knew it was just a thinly veiled excuse to spoon you. You didn’t mind.

Even now as you prepared breakfast, you felt light and airy and happy. All because of him.

“Mornin’.”

You’re frying some eggs when a sleepy voice sounds in the doorway, and you turn towards him. Keigo is there, barely awake and still rumpled from sleeping, with even his minimal feathers resembling some kind of bedhead.

“Awh, look at you, all drowsy,” you coo.

He grumbles halfheartedly, bumbling over to where you stand to kiss your cheek. He wraps his arms around your waist and sets his chin on your shoulder, peering down at the wide array of food you’re making.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks.

You hum a little and shrug. “I dunno. Figured you’d need a good meal after what happened yesterday? It might help your feathers grow back faster.”

You stay like that for a few minutes, until it comes time to flip the eggs. You shoo him to the breakfast table, and follow shortly after with your arms full of plates.

He starts heaping things onto his dish the moment you sit down, and you hide a laugh. Your mother always said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.

“So what do you wanna do today?” you ask, shoveling a piece of egg into your mouth.

Keigo shrugs, giving your question little consideration. “I thought movies on the couch sounded okay?”

You wonder when the last time he had a day off was, and even more so when he last did something fun. “You said we’d go out and do stuff together, Kei,” you tell him, “that’s why I agreed to take time off. Remember?”

He smiles at your nickname, his cheeks glowing a soft pink. “Fair enough. What did you have in mind?”

“I dunno...what kind of stuff haven’t you done before?”

“A lot, actually,” he chuckles dryly, “you’d think I would have seen more of the country I grew up in.”

Your heart twists a little, silently mourning for his lost childhood. You hoped he’d open up about that to you sometime in the future, even though you already had a pretty good idea of what he went through. You hoped you could be somewhere safe for him to come home to.

“How about we start with the big things you haven’t done,” you suggest around a mouthful of food, “like, things you always wanted to do?”

He thinks for a moment.

“I’ve never been to the zoo,” he says, matter-of-factly. “Or a butterfly sanctuary. I’ve never had a beach day, either, despite the fact that I have a summer home. Uh...movie theatres. Amusement parks. All that stuff.”

He pulls some pancakes onto his plate and douses them thoroughly in syrup. You smile and shake your head.

“Well, we don’t want to get swarmed by fans, as much as I love them. Maybe we could do something like the beach?”

“Yeah?” you can hear the excitement in his voice.

“Yeah. We could spend a few days in that summer house of yours.”

Keigo finishes his food quickly after that, rushing to make a few phonecalls and arrange for a ride. You remind him to also get someone to come in and stock the place with food, so the two of you won’t have to deal with the grocery store. It would be a nice, relaxing weekend. No fans invited.

----

You start packing your suitcase while he makes his calls. You have most of what you’ll need for the trip; clothes, toiletries, the like. You wonder if you should pack a set of sheets, too, but you decide against it. This was Keigo’s house you were talking about, after all. You’d bet your left arm you’d walk into the place and it would be fully furnished.

Said boyfriend wanders into the room while you’re tossing things into a duffel bag, and leans against the wall to watch you.

“What?” you ask, “do I have something on my face?”

He smiles sweetly at you, shaking his head. “Nah, you’re just really pretty. It’s gonna be nice to have some time for just us.”

You fluster slightly, warmth creeping onto your face. “Y-you can’t just say things like that!” you scold, but it’s half hearted.

“Why not? Am I not allowed to compliment my girlfriend?”

The warmth spreads down your neck, and you think for a moment that he is a smug, smug oversized chicken.

“So I’m your girlfriend, huh?” you tease, zipping your bag up and throwing it over your shoulder.

He meanders towards you and takes your face in his hands. “Yeah, you’re my girlfriend, and I plan on keeping you for a long time.” The kiss he then gives you is gentle and sweet, maybe from the syrup on his pancakes, maybe from the affection he pours into it. You sigh happily against his lips and snake your arms around his waist.

He’s warm and solid, pressed against you, lithe body holding an unexpected amount of strength. His hands travel downwards, slowly, fingertips ghosting over your neck, collarbones, stopping and hesitating at the tops of your breasts.

Ah. Ever the gentleman.

You arch against him and bite his bottom lip, and his hands continue. His grip is gentle on your chest, nimble fingers caressing soft flesh through your shirt. He groans, low in the back of his throat, and squeezes a little harder.

His kisses grow sloppier, until he’s mouthing down your neck to nip and suck at your skin.

“Keigo…” you whine, shivering at his touch, “I...I want-”

He slips a thigh between yours, and pulls you against him by the hips. You have no choice but to grind down on him, delicious friction sending pleasant shocks throughout your body.

You continue like that for a couple minutes, hands grabbing and groping at each other, slipping under shirts for better access and more sensation. You’re in heaven, wet and hot on his thigh, and you can feel that he’s in no better a condition.

But it’s not enough. Enough to drive you crazy, sure, but hardly enough to bring you over the edge. You’re about to beg him for more, for as much as he’s willing to give, when suddenly his phone starts chirping in the distance.

Keigo groans in irritation, his head dropping onto your shoulder. He slows him ministrations, touches regretfully receding from your body, and gives you a final apologetic kiss.

“Sorry, chickadee, but that would be our ride.”

You grumble at the loss of contact, mind foggy and nerves buzzing, muttering about how you’d like a different ‘ride’. “S’okay…” you say, though the disappointment is evident in your tone. “We can try again later though, right?”

He lights up like a christmas tree.

----

The drive is uneventful, peaceful even, and it’s late afternoon by the time you arrive at the beach house.

“You know, when you said ‘summer home’, I don’t know why I thought ‘cottage’.” You stare up at the building in front of you, which has to be at least three times the size of your apartment. It’s two, maybe two and a half, storeys tall, with dozens of huge windows, and an enormous front porch. The garden is meticulously maintained, filled with exotic plants, and palm trees you’re pretty sure have been imported.

It’s very over the top, and you know you should have expected it; Keigo worked hard, flew fast, and earned more money than he knew what to do with.

You wander into the front foyer together, kicking your shoes off before proceeding to the rest of the house.

From the main living area, you had a clear view and access to the backyard, and beyond that a private spit of beach and ocean. You weren’t sure how such a huge property could be as secluded as it was, but it certainly made it happen.

“Kei, why is there a pool?”

He wanders over to you, following your gaze to the aforementioned structure.

“Huh,” he says, “I didn’t know that was there.”

You close your eyes and sigh deeply. It’s fine, you’re fine, and it’s none of your business to question why there was a pool on the property when the ocean was a hundred feet from the back deck.

“You really never stayed here, have you?” you’re exasperated. “Like, did you even look at the place before you bought it?”

He at least has the decency to look sheepish. “I never had time? Even when I lose my feathers, I usually have to stay in the office and do paperwork.”

“Do you not have paperwork this time?”

“Oh, no, I do!” he smiles cheekily, “I’d just rather be here with you.”

“Keigo!”

----

You both unpack quickly, setting your clothes up in the wardrobe in your shared room. He’s packed entirely too much for a three day vacation, but you suppose he doesn’t have much experience with that. You’re also fairly certain you did the same…

Despite your overall reservation about the rich and slightly entitled atmosphere of the house, you were excited to be there. It’s been years since you’d last had a vacation, the last time possibly being your senior graduation event, and you could feel that you desperately needed time off.

Keigo sits on the edge of the bed, clad in comfortable shorts and a T-shirt, watching you sort your things out and set them in drawers.

“So...what now?” he asks.

You hang your final sun dress up, and turn to him. “Now we do whatever we want. Lounge on the beach, or the patio -though it looks like it might rain-, go swimming, decide what to make for dinner…speaking of, did you have someone stock the pantry?”

“Yeah. Fridge, too.”

“Perfect! How about you pick what to make, and help me with it?”

----

Keigo, in his chicken-loving fashion, decides on ‘fancy chicken nuggets’. You’re not exactly sure how to make that, or what would go well with it, but you’re giving it your best shot, mixing fresh spices and herbs into the floury breading.

Your boyfriend sits at the island a few feet away, watching you flit between appliances and bowls and chopping boards. He had tried to help you briefly, but proved himself rather inept at preparing food, so you’d kindly banished him out from under your feet.

“You’re a woman after my own heart,” he sighs, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand.

You peek at him over your shoulder and smile. “I swear, you’re such a dude. A nice plate of food in front of you, and you swoon.”

Mischief sparkles in his eyes. “That’s not true! I like a pretty face, too!”

“Then why the heck did you choose me?” you snicker.

Keigo doesn’t laugh. Quite the opposite, in fact. He grows unusually serious, and slides off the barstool to come stand beside you.

“You’re beautiful. You know that, right?” he asks.

You roll your eyes. “It was just a joke, Kei…”

“Self deprecating jokes have an element of personal truth to them.”

“Keigo seriously-”

“Say you’re beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Y/N, you know what I mean. Say you’re beautiful.”

You sigh. “I’m...pretty.”

“Beautiful.”

“Good! Now, all together.”

“I’m...I’m…” you hesitate on the word, fidgeting while you try to say it. You don’t know why a single self compliment is proving so tricky. It might be the way he looks at you, so intense and focused. It’s making you nervous.

You avert your gaze and turn away. “I should check the nuggets-”

But he captures you in his arms, pulling you back against his chest. “We’re not done here yet.”

You squirm a little, but your heart isn’t in it. When you finally still, he speaks again.

“Who made you believe you aren’t beautiful?” he wonders softly, resting his chin on your shoulder. You shiver at his warm breaths on your neck, and let yourself lean back into him.

“Why does it matter?”

“I need to know who to punch.”

You laugh at that, but it’s dry and humourless. “I’m afraid it’s no one in particular,” you tell him, “It’s just kind of a behaviour that everyone picks up over the years, y’know? It’s not a big deal, in my case, it’s not like I hate myself.”

Keigo squeezes you a little. “You just don’t think you’re beautiful.”

“The definition of beauty changes from person to person, anyways. I’m sure there are people I find beautiful that don’t see it, too.”

“Doesn’t that make you sad, though?”

Your shoulders sag in defeat. It does make you sad, when the people you love and cherish would choose to change so much about themselves, if they could. When they don’t see the life and personality and kindness behind their smiles and dimples and blemishes.

“I guess,” you mumble.

Keigo lays a kiss against your shoulder, lips lingering against your bare shoulder. He presses another, closer to your neck this time, and another after that. “I’ll say it every day until you believe it, sweetheart,” he tells you, voice low and silken, “you’re beautiful. Your wings are beautiful, too. So strong and graceful. They give away your feelings sometimes, y’know? They get fluffy when you’re excited, or mad, or scared…”

“Keigo…”

He continues his journey across your shoulder, while his hands roam slowly up your sides. “You smile could light up a room, and your laugh? Don’t even get me started. I’ve never heard something so close to perfection, it makes my stomach twist up in knots.”

You tremble in his arms, the familiar warmth of arousal beginning to course through your veins. Still, he doesn’t stop.

“You work so hard, and you take your job seriously, and you’re good at it, too. Yet you’ve never cared about popularity, even though you’re kind to your fans. You just want to help people, and make a difference where you can. It’s admirable, and noble, and the world needs more heroes like you.”

You squirm in place, turning carefully around in his arms. At this distance, you can see all the freckles and scars on his face, and feel his short breaths fan across your cheeks.

“You...really have feelings for me, don’t you?” you whisper, as though you can’t quite believe it.

“Of course I do,” his tone is low, “I wouldn’t have tried so hard to befriend you if I wasn’t at least a little bit interested. And you turned out to be so much better than I expected.”

You lock your fingers behind his neck, the soft hairs there tickling your skin. His eyes flutter ever so slightly, and his next breath is shaky.

“Y/N, I…”

You lean forward and kiss him.

It’s messy, and heated, and he responds to your touches with soft moans and gasps. He pulls you as close as he can, your bodies flush together, and you can feel him hard against your thigh. He’s certainly easy to rile up, but you don’t particularly mind.

His hands roam your form, grabbing and squeezing wherever you let him venture. He breaks your kiss to start sucking a bruise onto your neck, biting down on your skin when his actions earn a gentle whine from you.

“The things you do to me,” he sighs, stilling his hands from a brief second. “I wanted you the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

Your press your foreheads together, staring into his golden eyes.

“Would you let me have you, chickadee?” he asks, begs, “would you let me keep you?”

“Yes,” you whisper without a second thought, reconnecting your lips.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #winged reader au

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deja-you · 3 years

Note

Girl can you please write either a Laf or Jefferson fix based off of Tis the Damn season?!?! Miss Swift has me all in my feelings 🥰😭

drabble masterlist

this took me a while to get around to, but this is definitely one of my favorite drabbles :)

You distinctly remember Thomas saying it’s never too late, but you can’t imagine he still means it.

The last time you saw him – it hurts to think about the last time – was years ago. It was only a few days after his graduation party, you remembered this because there were still photos of Thomas covering the walls in his family’s home and confetti was still tucked into the corners. You kept a small piece of green and gold confetti tucked away in your heart.

His room was a safe haven from the hurricane that was graduation, moving trucks, and you. For a minute, it was your safe haven. You felt out of place in his bedroom, where, when the shelves were filled, books spilled out onto the hardwood floors. Where signed baseballs sat like trophies on the desk. Where a radio always played upbeat songs.

Everything was so damn americana.

You realize that the fact that you felt out of place was part of the appeal. There was a part of you that was ignited when he moved around the furniture so the two of you could dance. An addictive part of your personality that adored the fact that he would rearrange his nostalgic world for you (the knowledge that he would do anything for you made you glow a little brighter, and he liked seeing you glow).

You’re older now, but you don’t think you were any smarter than you were at eighteen. While you’re aware that everything has changed, it’s becoming increasingly more apparent that nothing has changed. Your childhood home hasn’t changed much (although your mom is excited to show you her new dishwasher). Even though you’ve flown across the country to be where you are now – you can’t really call it home anymore – it hardly takes you any time to adjust back to your old habits.

Grocery shopping. You can’t remember the last time you bought your own groceries, but you figure it’s a small enough town that you won’t be swarmed by adoring fans. Maybe just classmates who never spoke to you in high school pretending to be your best friend, but you could live with that.

It’s an in-and-out trip. You’ve been given a short list, and unsalted butter and whole milk aren’t exactly difficult groceries to find. You keep your hood on and go through self-checkout. You can’t tell if you hate or love just how mundane this activity is for you, but you’re at least aware it’s a change of pace. You have a plastic bag of groceries in hand and are nearly back to your car when you spot it.

The very same car that drove you home from Friday night football games parked in the lot, mud staining the tires. You’re reminded again that nothing has changed when your pulse quickens by just a few beats (but it’s enough for you to know that you’re not over it, never will be, really). You can’t hear the engine running and there’s no one in the front seat, so you breathe a sigh of relief that you didn’t run into him today.

“Hey, I like your flannel.”

Of course fate (if that’s what you’re going to call it) won’t let you off that easy. You could pretend you hadn’t heard him and sprint to your car, that was always an option. But it wouldn’t be a good look, and your heart desperately wanted to see him again.

“I’m sure you would,” you turn to face him, grocery bag swinging violently in your hand, “you picked it out for me.”

He looks absolutely brilliant. Your closet is exclusively an eternal summer collection due to the unrelenting L.A. sun; you don’t even know how to wear winter. Your best attempt was a flannel from high school. But Thomas. He may very well be the definition of December, because you are convinced the midnight thread of his sweater was invented with his very being in mind. Somehow his smile is fresh like April and his eyes are warm like July, and – damn, he’s all twelve months, isn’t he?

Thomas is much more beautiful than you could have remembered, and you’re drowning in the familiarity of it all. You feel like less of yourself, like you could be absorbed by his presence just by being near him. You’re reminded why you left and you’re reminded why it was so hard to leave. You still haven’t decided if you had made the right choice.

“I nearly forgot you were back in town,” he says, and you don’t believe him. You’ve thought about him every time you thought about coming home. It would be rude of him not to return the same courtesy to you.

“Your mom told me you were coming back for the holidays,” Thomas adds on, feeling the need for an explanation.

You cock your head to the side slightly. There are dozens of questions that you want to ask him, but you don’t. “You talked to my mom?”

It’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone. It’s a stupid question, but you can’t help but wonder how often they talk about you.

“Last week at church,” he replies.

You nod once finding the answer less than satisfactory. He’s really made this town his home, and you don’t know if you’re relieved or feeling remorseful at the thought that that could have been you.

“I’m not really here for the holidays,” you say. It’s not an important fact, but maybe he cares. You hope he cares. “Just for the weekend. I’m headed back to L.A. on Monday.”

You wait for emotions to flash over his face, but he just gives you a friendly smile. It hurts worse than a fucking knife.

“Too bad. I’m sure the town wishes you’d stay longer,” he says.

You’re not sure if he means it. You’re not sure what he means by it. Does he wish you’d stay longer? Or was it his passive aggressive way of wishing you had never come back by hiding bitter resentment behind kind words? You decide against the last part. You wouldn’t put it past Thomas to wield his words like weapons, but he would never do that with you.

“Maybe I’ll stay longer when I’m not so busy.” You shrug and shift the bag of groceries from one hand to the other.

He laughs, not in a scornful way, mostly it’s disbelief. “I highly doubt that.”

You don’t even have to ask him what he means by that; the both of you are well-versed in your habits of leaving. The two of you exchange a few more pleasantries before saying goodbye. Thomas says something along the lines of I hope to see you around, and you’re left wondering once again if he means any of it.

Thomas has the same phone number from high school. You’re not surprised, he’s always been a traditionalist, and from your experience, you know he’s never taken well to change.

You’re only home for the weekend, so you don’t have time to play the who’s-going-to-contact-who-first game. You call him, and an hour later you’re meeting him in the parking lot in front of your old school. You’ve told your mom you’re meeting up with an old friend (it’s not exactly a lie) and she’s glad that you’re reconnecting with your high school friends. You don’t care to elaborate any more on the subject.

Thomas holds the passenger-side door open for you, and you climb into his car just like you’ve done hundreds of times before. You’ve probably spent hours and hours wasting your time just thinking about him, so now that he’s right in front of you, neither of you want to waste any more time. You fall into easy conversation as if nothing has changed (nothing is the same anymore, both of you know this), careful not to address the elephant in the small town.

The two of you spend hours talking, and it easily turns into an entire day. You talk about everything until there’s nothing left to talk about, and then both of you are content to use your mouths for the things between you that can’t be said.

He has a house now that’s very much him. Thomas’s bedroom in his new house has furniture you’re unaccustomed to, but the space itself is a memory. They may be new titles, but there are still books overflowing onto the floor. You’re not even surprised. In fact, you find it all very comforting.

His touch on your skin is familiar, and you relive every moment with him from the first to the last (even though that part still stings). Thomas is your past and your present, and you don’t even dare to think about your future when he’s got his arms wrapped around your torso. Nothing feels like home the way he does.

You’ve nearly spent half the day in his touch, something you must’ve done plenty of times before. You want him to ask you to stay, and not just for another hour and not just for another day and not just for another month and not just for another year. But you know he won’t, because he doesn’t think you want him to (you want him to). Thomas doesn’t ask you to stay because he doesn’t think you’ll forgive him if he asks this of you.

As if forgiveness is something we choose to do.

When you finally detangle your limbs from his, you find your discarded sweatshirt quickly in an attempt to replace his warmth with something artificial. It doesn’t work. It’s not really fair that you get to be the one who leaves him twice, but you don’t exactly feel like you’ve won anything.

It should be better than this, you think to yourself. But you know the heart that’s really breaking is your own.

#Kitty's drabbles #i could write thom angst all day #happy late christmas lol #thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader

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welcometotheocverse · 3 years

Text

Gilmore Girls OC

Name: Henry Mariano

Story: Once Upon A Time ( In New York City)

Faceclaim: Gattlin Griffith

Summary: Henry grew up with his flaky mother and his shithead troublemaker older brother in New York. He’s gotten pretty good at fending for himself. He’s gotten pretty good at being quiet around his mom’s less favorable boyfriends. He’s gotten pretty good at predicting when his brother’s and his mother’s moods will fluctuate and when they’ll collide. And he knows how to heat up soup. Overall, he thinks he’s doing pretty well. And at least his brother brings him back books sometimes when he goes....wherever it is he goes off to all day.

Then Henry gets sent to Stars Hollow along with his brother because his uncle Luke can “keep them out of trouble” according to his mom ( though Jess thinks it has more to do with how much less money it is to feed one person and how much easier it is to keep a boyfriend around without two kids) and he finds out he’s gonna have to learn to adapt to a very different environment.

*warnings: can be Lorelai critical. Story talks of child neglect, child abuse, and trauma responses. Angst with happy ending tho.

Henry’s Tag!

Henry!Verse Playlist ( routinely updated)

Name: Elliot -El- Gilmore

Story: Follow The Light

Faceclaim: Tom Holland

Summary: For as long as there’s been The Gilmore Girls there’s also been The Gilmore Twins. Elliot and Rory Gilmore. The Kids That Read A Lot. They don’t have a lot of friends growing up but that’s fine for Elliot. It’s fine for him that their dad is a flake and that his grandparents appear only every holiday like clockwork through their first 16 years of life. He has his twin sister, and they have their mom, and they have a town that while full of nosy and a bit wacky characters who all take a hand in ensuring the single teenage mom and her twin wunderkids are okay. They have a home and a family and a dream; both he and Rory plan to go the Ivy League School route and spread their wings.

Except that to do that, they have to go to Chilton. Except that to do that, they have to reconnect with their estranged grandparents. And the twin’s world is about to get a lot bigger.

Elliot’s Tag!

Elliot!Verse Playlist ( routinely updated)

Name: Amelia Victory Gilmore Danes

Story: Forever Young.

Faceclaim: Melissa Benoist

Summary: Amelia Gilmore Danes is the product of a night of passion. Her parents after falling for each other had a short lived fling before they panicked decided they weren’t ready for a committed relationship ( though if you ask both Amelia and the entire town of Stars Hollow they’re still pining for each other) Lorelai had a small daughter, lived in a shed, and still had CP dropping in on her so Luke was the one to take custody of their daughter. Lorelai however stayed involved in the child’s life.

For Amelia this suits her just fine. She spends days with her mom and sister, and days with her dad. Movie Nights and Fishing Trips, Rumi games after the dinner closes, and shopping trips before every school year. She has the typical small town girl life and she loves it.

Then her older sister gets into Chilton, and Amelia couldn’t be prouder. Except it also means that her mother’s family, who she’s never seen before and who don’t even know about her are a lot closer to her world.

Amelia’s Tag!

Amelia!Verse playlist. ( routinely updated)

Name: Hope Louise Gilmore

Story: Above All

Faceclaim: Sandra Bullock

Summary: The first born of Emily and Richard Gilmore, Hope is her parents pride and joy. She was named after Emily’s sister. Richard shows her off to his friends. Emily dresses her up like a doll and lines the walls with pictures of her in enough ensembles people start suspecting there’s a clothing store in their house. In short, she’s their perfect firstborn child.

At least until she’s not, at least until she starts wanting more than DAR meetings and socialite training and it’s met with derision. At least until she comes of age and suddenly the trust fund money her grandmother left her for virtue of being the first born is at her beck and call and in her control. At least until she steals into the night after dropping a kiss on her younger sister’s head and cuts contact with her family as much as she’s able to.

Lorelai Gilmore is brought up in the shadow of her elder sister, her parents control stemming from the fact that they will not lose another child.

Except that they do, because of course they do. Their child has no air. Lorelai never stops hearing about how she must never be like her older sister. How any indication that she might be must be met with swift retribution “for her own good.” They were too lenient with Hope. They let it go too far. They won’t do that again. ( there is no trust fund money for her. Nothing for her to fashion into an escape they won’t let it happen again) And contact between the two Gilmore Girls is not something Emily and Richard allow, lest Lorelai becomes influenced by her wayward sister. ( “and if Hope really wanted to talk to you, she’d come by the house any of the many times we’ve told her to Lorelai. Do you see her anywhere?”)

And so the story goes: The balcony’s her sanctuary ( “in all it’s wonderful away from themness” and Christopher Hayden is her closest friend.

And so the story goes: Lorelai becomes pregnant, has her daughter and runs away.

When Hope finds out about it she’s desperate to connect with her sister, something her parents waste no time in using it to get her to open up contact with them by saying they’ll give her Lorelai’s contact information if she returns to the fold. ( she’s not surprised. She’s pissed, but not surprised.)

And so the story goes; except that when Lorelai reaches out to seek help for her child the Gilmores have one more way to bring Hope back. “Lorelai and Rory are going to be coming to dinner every Friday Night Hope.” Emily says into the phone “if you’re so desperate to reconnect with them maybe you should come this time.”

And so the story goes.

“Honk if Emily Gilmore sees your mind as her personal playground”

Hope’s tag

Hope!Verse Playlist!

*Warnings: can be Emily and Richard critical.

Less developed OCs

#Gilmore Girls ocs #my ocs #ocappreciation #ocapp

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hypnomicimagines · 4 years

Text

❣️Camping Trip❣️[Jinguji Jakurai]❣️

You had never thought you’d go on a camping trip with your doctor boyfriend.

It just didn’t seem like the type of thing Jakurai would be interested in though you did know he enjoyed fishing immensely, and his two Matenrō teammates had also tagged along upon your boyfriends invitation. You didn’t really mind hanging out with them since they were rather amusing to listen to, Doppo especially leaving you entertained even if you feel sympathetic towards the poor mans work woes. Much of the trip was spent talking animatedly with him, listening to him curse his boss as his poor luck caused him to only fish up boots while the blonde one, Hifumi, continued to reel them in like he was Poseidon himself. Casting quick glances over at Jakurai as you improve your own fishing game reveals he looks quite content with everyone getting along, and you knew how happy it made him that you’d agreed to come with despite your aversion to being out in the wilderness.

Your favorite part of the night was approaching, the time when the two of you would finally have the chance to be alone.

He’d packed quite a bit of blankets for the two of you to make a wonderful love nest, knowing you hated sacrificing your creature comforts for camping. You hadn’t wanted to go in the first place but the chance to spend time with him was far too tempting, especially since you got to see him very sparingly during the week. You had known what you were signing up for when you’d started to date a doctor, of all professions, but you still missed him every night you had to go to sleep without him. You knew it made his heart ache to think of how lonely you were without him around which is why days off were so often spent together, but ever since Matenrō had been formed, he had to split his attention in a few different ways. Luckily, you got along splendidly with his teammates (as he knew you would) so it made it a little less strenuous to find the bonding time for all three of you, and you couldn’t say you disliked being considered part of his squad.

“Comfortable enough?” Jakurai broke you from your thoughts as he crawled into the tent, having to bend comically low in the entrance due to his height; you’d seen him slam his head into a doorframe at least twice as he seemed to forget how tall he truly was from time to time, an endearing trait that made you love him all the more. It didn’t stop him from being embarrassed when you asked to kiss his bruise better, giggling about how you enjoyed being the one to take care of him when he allowed it.

“I am.” You sunk deeper under the covers, looking over at the spot laid out for him. “The boys settled in? I heard a lot of yelling as they tried to set their tent up.”

“…They worked it out.” Jakurai is wearing a fond, amused smile that just makes you want to kiss him, and you needily hold out your arms to signal you’d like him to do so. He does so without you having to ask twice, quite happy to have had such a full day that ended with him in the arms of his beloved. The only time he ever felt like he got a truly restful sleep is when he fell asleep next to you, his dreams pleasant, as if he was living in a world where he had no worries. He would have continued on with his romantic thoughts, thinking about how much your presence had improved his life, thinking about how hard his heart beats every time he thinks of getting down on one knee for you, but it seemed you had other things on your mind.

“Jakurai,” You hummed out to break him from his reverie, lips gliding against his collar bone, an area you knew he liked you to pay attention to, “You looked so pretty out at the fire tonight. How can I resist you when we’re pressed up so close to each other?”

Jakurai generally managed to keep his cool but when you were being bold like this he felt something else taking over, his body suddenly becoming more sensitive to your touch as your fingers trail down the thin nightshirt he was wearing. You hear his sharp intake of breath as you lift up the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing against his happy trail as you slowly slid your hand into his pants. You’re all too aware that any loud noises would likely awaken Hifumi and Doppo but you quickly push those thoughts aside knowing your boyfriend would do his best to keep his noises between the two of you. You would drink in every moan or groan he offered you, licking your lips at the very thought of him falling apart just for you.

Jakurai whispered your name in your ear in a fashion unlike him, breathy, needy, asking for more; he had moved so that you had easier access and you were surprised he didn’t put up more of a fight. It seemed he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him, embarrassment be damned if the two of you were to be caught in the act. His eyes fluttered shut as you wrapped your hand around his hardening length, mouth starting to leave an array of hickeys on his neck as you set a deliberately slow pace. He had more self-control than you gave him credit for, taking the teasing pace you set without complaint, stilling his hips so he didn’t give you the exact reaction you wanted by bucking into your hands.

“You’re so beautiful,” He mumbled, kissing the top of your head; he lets out a deep groan when you squeeze his dick a little tighter, thumb running over the tip to smear pre-cum over the entirety of his length.

“I’ve got my hand down your pants, I’m ravishing you, and you think ‘beautiful’?”

“Of course,” He’s not sure what point you’re trying to make, “Everything about you is beautiful but if you’d like to me to use the term ‘sexy’, it fits as well.”

“Hearing sexy come out of your mouth is oddly satisfying if not a bit weird.”

Jakurai let out another strangled moan when you started to move your hand faster, turning on his side and pressing a finger under your chin to get you to look up at him. You can barely make out his face in the dark tent but you know he’s hungrily looking at your lips, wanting nothing more than for you to kiss him while you continue to jerk him off. He wiggled out of his pajama shorts and removed the covers so he didn’t make a mess of them, sighing softly as you cuddled up even closer to him before your lips reconnected. He wanted more, more than what your hand could offer him though he debated on how selfish it’d be to stop your pleasurable actions now; he knew you enjoyed it when he let you take care of him but it wasn’t in his nature to do so without giving back, and when it was an activity that the two of you could easily enjoy…

“My love,” Jakurai removed your hand from his dick, ignoring the confused noise you let out and crashing his lips against yours again. “Let me…!”

“Listen here, Dr. Jinguji!” You hadn’t meant to raise your voice so loud and you were partly worried you’d woken the other two up, listening carefully and only hearing the sound of the nearby lake, bugs, and distant snoring. You had rolled over to straddle Jakurai, your warmth rubbing against him; you had only worn a long nightshirt to bed and having decided to seduce him early that day, you hadn’t bothered to put on a pair of underwear. “You’re gonna lay there and take it. You give to me all the time, so let me be in control for once.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.” Jakurai placed his hands on your hips, rubbing slow circles into your soft skin, once again exercising his self-control so he didn’t buck his hips up to create the friction he was desperate for. “I am at your mercy.”

That was like music to your ears, and you were sure to show the good doctor how good he could feel when he just let you take the reins.

#Jinguji Jakurai #Jakurai Jinguji #Hypnosis Microphone #Hypnosis Mic #Hypnomic #Hypnosis Mic Imagines #Hypnosis Microphone Imagines #Hypnomic Imagines #Hypnomic x Reader #Hypnosis Microphone x Reader #Hypnosis Mic x Reader #Jakurai Jinguji x Reader #Jinguji Jakurai x Reader #Scenario #Smut

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rainbowshawn · 4 years

Text

Steam

Summary: You were asleep when Shawn came home from tour so the two of you make up for lost time in the shower.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, language

Word Count: 4.2k

Rolling out of bed was the last thing you wanted to do while you had the man you loved back home for the first time in months, lying beside you. You eye the stray eyelash resting on his rosy cheek and his plump, slightly chapped lips. He has the sheet draped carelessly over his lower half, a result of his warm body temperature in the night. He looked so peaceful like this, and you wanted nothing more than to embrace his first morning back home by cuddling up to him, but the shower was calling your name. You figure you won’t want to do it later anyway. With a huff, you stretch and stumble out of the warm bed and into the luxurious bathroom.

After a long week at work, you had accidentally fallen asleep before Shawn got home from his tour. You had been telling him about your less than wonderful week over facetime and he decided he would skip some studio days and catch a last minute flight home to you. Despite your protests, he was dead set on his plan; wanting nothing more than to be home to baby you.

After your hellish day at work yesterday, you were in desperate need of a shower. You feel the soreness in your legs from being on your feet for hours as you walk towards the mirror. You blink in disbelief as you took in your messy figure in the reflection. Makeup was smudged underneath your eyes, accompanied by your tangled up hair. A small snort leaves your lips as you eye the purple mark on your neck that Shawn so kindly left you last night after he had woken you up when he stumbled into your room, tripping over a shoe.

You were only awake for a few moments, sharing some sweet, sleepy kisses with the beautiful boy you got to call yours before slipping back into blissful sleep. Shawn frowned down at your sleeping face for a moment and he contemplated bugging you until you woke back up, but he ultimately decided that you really needed the sleep. He just curled up to you and embraced the feeling of you in his arms for the first time in months.

Once you finish brushing through your matted hair, you strip your clothes off and make your way into the shower, starting it up for a minute so it could reach your desired temperature. While you wait, you decide to grab one of the makeup wipes you had stored in one of your drawers and wipe the excess mascara off of your eyes to avoid feeling the stinging of it getting in your eyes in the water.

The glass door slides shut behind you as you hop in the shower and you sigh as you step into the steaming hot water. You crane your neck back as you shut your sleepy eyes, embracing the new-found warmth in the water. You thread your fingers through your hair, making sure your unruly locks were all saturated before grabbing your shampoo bottle and squirting some into your palm.

You breathe in the soft scent as your fingers start to spread the sudsy liquid through your tresses. The sound of the shower was just loud enough for you to be oblivious of the sleepy boy stumbling into the bathroom. Shawn eyes your silhouette through the fogged up glass and bites back a groan as he stretches before sliding the glass door to the side and stepping in behind you.

You jump a bit at the sound of him slipping in and peek behind you, sighing in relief once you see his gorgeous face peering down at you with a sleepy grin.

“Baaabe,” you whine, still working the shampoo into your hair, “you scared me.”

Shawn hums behind you, stepping closer to you before moving his hands to rest on your shoulders. His hands feel cold against your hot skin and you hiss a bit as you adjust to his temperature. You sigh as his strong hands begin to rub your tight muscles and his lips ghost across your ear.

“You weren’t in bed when I woke up,” he murmurs lowly in your ear, sending chills down your spine. His tone is still sleepy, but so damn sexy, and your stomach flutters at the sound. You bite your lip when you feel his lips start to work against your neck, sucking and nipping at your steamed skin.

His head pops up after a moment, taking notice to your still sudsy hair; and he shifts to start massaging your scalp himself. His fingertips slide tenderly through your wet locks and you hum at the sensation. He loves washing your hair for some reason; frequently begging to do it so you didn’t have to. Not that you ever put up much of a fight to that.

“M’sorry, I needed a shower” you whisper, tilting your head as he rubbed the nape of your neck, “Miss me?”

He wordlessly presses into you and you suddenly take notice to his painfully hard member pressing against your ass. Your head falls back against his shoulder with a gasp and his lips press against your damp cheek.

“What do you think?” he hums, teasingly.

You giggle bashfully, feeling the simmer from the blush creeping up your cheeks and bite at your lip as you lean into his embrace.

“Don’t like waking up without you next to me,” he murmurs into your ear before moving your body to stand under the stream of water and running his fingers through your hair to rinse the suds out.

“No?”

“Mm mm,” he shakes his head, gazing down at you with nothing but adoration swimming in them. “Especially not when it’s my first morning home.”

Your lip sneaks back between your teeth under his intense stare. His honey pot eyes are soft but somehow lustful. He wants to fall to his knees at the sight of your slick skin glistening in the light. Hungry eyes scan your delicate features before moving down to admire your body under the water. You gaze back, observing the water dripping from that one stubborn curl that always hung in front of his pretty face. His cheekbones are accentuated in the early morning light and his lean torso looks as tempting as ever. Your eyes drift lower, making your breath hitch as you admire his hard member standing at attention.

Subconscious hands move to ghost over his toned abdomen and your mouth drops open when his strong hands grip your hips and tug you into his firm body. His head drops to lean your foreheads together and you feel his lips tease yours.

“Now where’s my good morning kiss?” he whispers, toying with you.

You’re eager to give it to him, easily giving in to his plump, pink lips. The kiss is hungry, a burning passion igniting between you. His large hands trail greedily down to your ass, squeezing firmly. His member is pressed into your tummy and your small hand moves to graze against it. He nips at your bottom lip a bit, groaning at the contact in a feeble attempt to center himself.

Your hand wraps around him, beginning to pump teasingly slow before he turns and backs you up, pressing your back into the cold tile wall. A hiss escapes from your teeth as you adjust to the frigid temperature. His hands snake up your back, bringing warmth back into your skin and you moan against his lips.

“So fucking sexy,” he grunts as he moves down to nip at your neck, just below your ear. “Need you, lovey,”

Shawn’s hands graze up your sides quickly before landing on your tits. He palms you greedily before rolling your sensitive buds between his fingers. A groan tumbles from your lips at his teasing and your chest pushes out against him. His sloppy kisses trail lower and lower until his mouth latches onto your right nipple.

He sucks lightly, pulling sighs from you before letting it pop out of his mouth and moving to the other side. Your fingers tangle in his wet locks and tug as his hand trails to wrap your leg around his hip. His lips reconnect with yours, swallowing the gasp that leaves them as his long fingers trail your slit.

“This okay?” he searches for your consent, ghosting his fingertips across your heat.

“Mhmmm,” you whine, squirming under his stimulating touch.

“So fucking wet and I haven’t even gotten started with you,”

Shawn’s fingers dip just a little further inside, gathering your wetness on the tips of his fingers before swirling them over your swollen nub. Your whimpers escape your mouth haphazardly and he grins against your lips.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he whispers coyly in your ear, adding more pressure against your core. Your knees wobble a bit as your breath hitches in your lungs. Shawn wraps a strong arm around you, holding you in place, “I got you, love,”

Your heart thumps in your chest and you breathe deeply as you stare into his warm eyes that somehow look darker in this heated moment. His eyes fall to your swollen bottom lip tucked in between your teeth and his mind wanders off to devious places. He thinks of those pretty lips wrapped around him and he feels his aching cock twitch against you. A giggle escapes your chest when you take notice of his drifting mind and you shift to wrap your small hand around him once again.

You balance on the ball of your foot as his fingers work against you. Shawn’s mouth drops open slightly at the feeling of your small hand wrapped tightly around his thick shaft and a faint whimper escapes his lips.

Electricity is pumping through your limbs and you feel a lustful daze overwhelm your body as Shawn swirls his fingers directly on your sensitive nub. A gasp leaves your chest as he takes you by surprise, slipping two fingers inside of your dripping heat.

“Oh fuck,” you groan, gripping onto his waist for stability.

Shawn feels his member throb against your stomach but he’s far too wrapped up in your pleasure to care. All he wants is to please you; to remind you that the wait is worth it. He plans on making up for every single second he was gone.

“Gotta stretch my little love out,” he murmurs seductively into your ear, pumping you until he’s knuckles deep, “been a minute since you’ve taken my cock, hm?”

“Fuck, Shawn,” you whimper, biting down onto his shoulder, “please.”

“M’gonna make you feel so good, baby. Gonna make you cum all over me.”

Your knees wobble as his fingers dig into your spongy spot. Your whimpers are muffled into the crook of his neck and a shiver runs down his spine as he feels your shaking breath dance across his wet skin. A steady thump occupies your chest as you take ragged breaths in. Your eyes flutter shut, head falling back as you approach your blissful high.

“I can feel you getting tighter baby love,” he whispers, pressing sloppy kisses down your cheek and neck, “You close?”

“Mhm,” you whine, staring up at him with teary eyes.

“Wanna feel you cum on my cock,” he grunts, slipping his fingers out of you. You whimper at the empty feeling and your core throbs around nothing. He feels bad for edging you but he’s beyond eager to feel you after months of being gone.

“Fuck, Shawn p-please just give it to me,” you whisper tugging his hips closer to yours.

His grip on your leg tightens as his other hand takes hold of his aching length. He brushes it up and down your soaked heat, making sure you’re wet enough so he can slip in without hurting you. Once his cock is wet enough, he slips inside of you with a little pop.

You gasp, looking up at him with wide eyes as you feel the burning stretch of him sinking inside of you. You whimper for a moment, wrapping your arms around his shoulders for support.

“I know, honey, he soothes, “not used to it anymore, hm? M’not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

You know he wouldn’t. Every action reminded you of that.

Shawn’s fingertips brush a stray strand of wet hair behind your ear, blushing at the sight of your beautiful face. His mind goes blank, forgetting the rest of the world as he takes in this moment with you. His heart thrums in his chest at the thought of being the one to make you feel this good.

His daydream is interrupted when you wiggle a bit, silently giving him the ‘ok’ to move. He eases out of you slowly before sinking back in with a snap. You yelp as you feel him bottom out deep inside of your core. Every inch of him is buried inside of you and you’re shocked he hasn’t broken you.

“Oh my fucking god,” you gasp as he starts to pick up his pace, snapping his hips into yours.

He practically chews off his lip holding back choked groans as he feels your velvety walls tug him. Your slickness slides down his cock, dripping from his balls onto the wet tile floor. You’re so wet he’s almost having a hard time staying inside of you.

He fits perfectly inside of you, hitting every sensitive spot your body has. You feel perfect around him, warm and sopping. His mind stumbles to think straight, completely zoned in on your bliss. He lost in you and he doesn’t want to be found.

“Fucking christ,” he groans, holding you by your hips, “You’re so fucking tight around me, kitten. I barely even fit.”

No words seem to leave your lips, just incoherent blabbering as his pace quickens. You feel him deep in your core and you throb around him. Your nails dig little crescent moons into his skin, marking his back up. In return his teeth sink into the skin dressing your neck, sucking and leaving little patchy marks.

“You’re so fucking big Shawn, holy fuck,” you whimper and hang on tight to his figure. You’re in disbelief at his size every time you fuck after some time away from each other. You felt so full; so stuffed.

“What, did that pretty little pussy forget how to take my cock while I was gone?” he teases, beginning to draw circles on your clit as he feels you getting closer to the edge again.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you whimper, suddenly overwhelmed with the stimulation, “Don’t fucking stop.”

Your body shakes against the wall as your body coils and snaps suddenly, cumming all over his length. You moans have turned to little screams as you swim through your bliss. Huffs escape your chest and Shawn watches in wonder, feeling you throb tightly around him.

“So fuckin’ beautiful, love,” he whispers sweet words of endearment into your ear, pumping you through your intense high. “Missed this so much.”

Your senses are on overdrive, turning your brain to static. Your pulse pounds through your veins and you take deep breaths as you come

down from your high.

“Love you,” he smacks against your neck, kissing little stamps of love into your skin.

“Love you so much,” you blurt out with your eyes still screwed shut.

He gives you a moment to calm down, rubbing your sides soothingly. He continues to press kisses to your face before speaking softly,

“Think I can get you in bed? M’not done with you yet.”

And neither are you.

He shifts, turning the water off and opening the glass door of the shower. A small snack lands on your ass and you jump before stumbling out of the shower. He beats you to the towel rack, pulling the white cloth from the wall and draping it around your now shivering body. His hands move the towel around, soaking up the excess water dripping from your skin. Your bottom lip slots between your teeth as he crouches down and rubs the towel up and down your thighs, taking his time where he knows your skin is extra sensitive.

Once he pats you dry, his eyes catch yours and you watch as he leans in to press a kiss to your mound. You giggle and he smiles softly before raising himself back up to his feet. He wraps the towel around your soaking wet hair and squeezes some moisture out before tapping your bum and pointing to your bedroom.

He’s hot on your trail as you wobble over to the bed and once you’re at the edge, you spin to face him. He chuckles as your hands graze over his strong chest and he shoves you down gently, making you fall back onto the plush bed. You pull your knees up to your chest, keeping them tight together and wiggling back and forth on the bed while you giggle up at him.

“Spread those pretty legs for me, princess.” he murmurs, watching your every move with his hungry eyes.

Shawn feels his member ache at the sight of you spreading yourself open for him. His eyes trail up your slit, taking note of just how wet you really were. He really missed this.

He kneels at the edge of the bed and slowly crawls up your body, keeping his eyes focused on yours as he kisses up your thighs. You feel like prey underneath it’s predator's gaze and your pulse quickens. He watches your stomach clench as he gets closer and closer to your aching center.

“Just need a little taste,” he whispers, ghosting his lips across your slit. Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel his tongue poke out and trail up your core. He swirls it around your sensitive nub momentarily before sucking it up between his lips and releasing you with a quiet pop. He moans at the taste of you, wanting to absolutely devour all you had to offer him. But the aching in his member was proving to be rather distracting.

He presses a few more wet kisses to your center, watching as you writhe underneath him. Your head is tossed back in ecstasy and you’re so far gone you don’t even notice him trailing kisses back up to your lips.

“Gonna take me like a good girl?” he murmurs, lowering his weight onto you.

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes still closed as his lips work against your neck.

Your fingers tangle in his curls as you feel him line himself up with you, rubbing his tip up and down your wet slit before sinking back inside. You whine momentarily as your tummy cramps, still tight after your first orgasm.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll be gentle,” he whispers, petting your hair and kissing your forehead. He gives you a moment to adjust once again before picking up his pace again.

Your legs are settled around his torso, holding him to your body. The two of you are occupied in a kiss, searing and passionate as he rocks in and out of you, rhythmically. The feeling of his weight on top of you is comforting and his body seeps warmth into yours. The push and pull of his length inside of you stirs butterflies in your tummy.

“Missed you so fuckin much, angel,” he whispers quickly, huffing out the words, “Don’t ever wanna go that long without you again.”

You cup his face, looking longingly into his hazel eyes and watching his curls bounce in front of his forehead. Your thumbs swipe across his rosy cheeks as you eye the beads of sweat rolling down his face.

“Love you so much, Shawny,” you whisper, bouncing on the bed as he collides into you.

“Love you more, princess,” he replies as he presses a sloppy kiss your lips before nuzzling his face into your neck and picking up speed.

Your body bounces on the bed from the force of his hips meeting yours, making your core meet his deep thrusts.

“This pussy was fuckin made for me,” he grunts; overwhelmed by your tight walls clenching on him.

He leans up, resting back on his heels as he presses your ankles apart, spreading you nice and wide for him. You moan loudly as he thrusts back in, impossibly deeper.

“God, you’re so fucking deep like this,” you whine, feeling every inch of his aching member slamming into you.

He feels himself twitch inside of you, divulging in the sight of your core wrapped around him. Memorizing what it feels like to store it away for a lonely tour night. A night when all he needed to de-stress was to be in you.

Your eyes screw shut and you drape your arm over your face as he pounds into you, effectively hiding from him. His hand moves to grab ahold of your jaw and move your head to face him.

“Look at me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip, “Wanna see that beautiful face I missed so much.”

You blush under his loving gaze and tears prick at the corners of your eyes when you realize how deeply his affection runs for you. His love is patient; waiting weeks just to be with you. Never getting frustrated with your ever-changing moods. Never pushing you to do anything you don’t want. His love is kind; always being present and supportive, no matter the occasion or endeavor. Always giving you the assurance and reminders you need. His love for you runs to the deepest pit of his soul. It never falters.

“So good for me, lovey,” he whispers, beginning to rub your sensitive clit.

His fingers swirled against your nub, silently urging you closer to the edge for the second time this morning. Your walls instantly clench under his touch, squeezing him even tighter as he thrusts into you. The noises dripping from your mouth are sinful, bordering on unintelligible as your body shakes under him.

“Missed being in my girl. You feel so fuckin’ good wrapped around my big cock,” his hips quicken, ruthlessly slamming into you, “always take me so well.”

“S-Shawn I’m gonna cum,” you whine, grabbing onto him and pulling him to lean over you. Your arms wrap around his neck and your hands settle into his wet chocolate locks and tug as he digs deep inside of you. Your head spins as you feel your body winding up again.

“Hold it.” he asserts while continuing his brutal assault on your sensitive body.

“I can’t Shawn, please,” you beg, feeling the familiar build in your tummy.

“You can and you will.”

You whimper loudly, squirming underneath him as you grab at the bedsheets aimlessly. His calloused fingers rub at your slick nub and you clench down on his length even harder, trying to get him to cum with you.

His neck rolls as a deep moan rolls out of his pretty mouth.

“Ohhh my fucking god,” you whine, tugging on his hair so hard you’re sure you ripped some of it out.

His hips snap even harder, driving into you fervently. His fingers swirl around for another moment before he’s grunting, “Cum baby girl, cum for me.”

You scream out his name, digging your nails into his back as he rides out your euphoric highs. You see white as you throb around him, feeling him spurt his cum deep inside of you.

His jaw is slack, eyebrows knitted together as his eyes roll into the back of his head. He pulls out after a few moments of bliss before sinking back inside with a sharp thrust; pushing his cum in deeper.

“Good girl, that’s my good girl” he mumbles aimlessly as he lays on top of you, body completely worn out.

He props himself up on his elbows, leaning down to pepper kisses to your sweaty face. You giggle as he hums against your face, kissing you as many times as he possibly can. Little bits of love are left behind in his lips trail. Your smile only grows as he goes on.

“Missed you more than you know,” he whispers between kisses.

“Mmm not as much as I missed you,” you reply, petting his hair with your shaking hands.

“Not possible,” he mumbles into your neck where he had nuzzled into.

His weight was comfortable on top of you and you laid in silence for a few moments before you picked up the conversation again.

“Sorry I was asleep when you got home, I was excited to see you,” you whisper, feeling disappointed with yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, lovey. You had a long week,” he shifts up to look at you, brushing the stray hairs off your face, “I was just happy to be in the same bed as you again.”

You smile, humming as he pecks your lips.

“Now, I get you all to myself,” you giggle excitedly, pinching his rosy cheeks.

“All yours. Always.” he whispers, staring down at you with an introspective, loving gaze.

“All mine.”

You stare into his sweet eyes only for a moment before he flips you over unexpectedly, making a yelp jump from your lips.

“That was great and all,” he hums, pulling your face down to his as you straddle him, “but I think we still have a few months of kisses to make up for.”

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