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the-slasher-madame · 2 years

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Hi! I came across your blog today and I love it! I have a scenario type thing for Brahms I just thought of

So, only hours after the events of the movie, reader somehow someway finds the manor and decides to take refuge in there for a bit. They explore around a bit and the only reason Brahms hasn't attacked or anything is because he's simply too weak, so he retreats into the walls. Reader finds the doll, and just so happens to have owned a lot of glass/ceramic dolls in their past, so they know how to fix them up. As reader is fixing up the dolls head the best they can, they hear a loud thump from inside the walls, queue Brahms passing out. And you can take creative liberty from there LMAO

Sorry if that was a lot and you can change up anything you see fit! Thanks!

Awww HI!!!!! I'm glad you like it here <3333

LOL I love this because it just seems funny, random person is caring for the doll and Brahms just passes tf out and reader just goes "hmmm yes into the walls, let us care for the strange man." Ain't me, I get heart palpitations just playing phasmophobia lol, I'd die first in a horror movie (but hopefully I'd get my dying wish of a kiss from the handsome villain 👀.) Onwards!!

Warnings/Notes: mentions of violence, injuries, mentions of age regression (reader has friends who do), GN reader, poor Brahmsy :(,

ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ᵐᵉ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉⁿ'ᵗ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᵐᵒᵛᶦᵉˢ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵉᵗᵗᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᴵ ᵖʳᵒᵐᶦˢᵉ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ᵐᵉ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ >_<

I had to get that off my chest >_< anyways enjoy for real this time<3

Brahms had finally retreated to the walls, having patched himself up to the best of his abilities. It wasn't much, but it was something; he wouldn't die without saying he tried, he thought. It wasn't just his body hurting, but his heart, his mind. He really cared for Greta, had killed to protect her, and she betrayed him. She left him to die in the same house he'd been trapped in, alone, for his most of his life. Brahms thought he was about as bitter and angry at the world as he could get, yet here he was. If he could've moved he thinks he would have torn the mansion apart by now, or perhaps even left (he knew he'd never do that, he was as stuck with this broken home as he was with his broken face). He had just settled into a comfort spot in the walls when he heard the unmistakable creaking of the front door. This terrified him, thinking that Greta may have come back to make sure he was dead or had brought the cops to take him away. He groaned and gathered his strength to start towards the front of the house, stopping near one of the fireplaces to grab another weapon. He slowed as he reached the front, both due to exhaustion from his injuries and an attempt to be covert. Brahms, expecting to see Greta or unfamiliar men busting through the house, was properly surprised when he saw you instead. You had closed the front door while he made his way to this part of the house, and had stopped when you reached the shards of the doll. He rested a moment to see what you would do, as well as to catch his breath from the mad dash through his wall labyrinth.

“I think I can fix you little guy, hm? You know where I can find some superglue or porcelain? Why don’t we go looking around,” you hummed to the doll, having gathered all the pieces of its poor head. Brahms was shocked for the second time tonight, seeing you interact with the doll. He hadn’t interacted with many people, but he was certain that most wouldn’t stop for something that simple. They wouldn’t bother to even think of fixing it. He wanted so badly to go to you, to beg for some sort of help or comfort, but the recent betrayals kept him in the walls to watch as you started to wander through the halls of the house. Brahms passed by the mirror he burst through earlier, but his head started to spin. He tried so hard to stay upright, but the combination of emotional and mental turmoil of the night and his injuries made it impossible; he felt like he was watching himself crash to the floor before his sight finally faded to blackness.

You, on the other hand, jumped when you heard the noise. You had thought you were alone in the house; you had seen no cars out front or lights on in any of the windows. You carefully set the doll down and started back towards where you thought you heard the thump come from. As you cautiously rounded the corner, alert for possible assailants, you spot a large humanoid shape on the ground. The mirror was broken, like the person had fallen through it. You were quite properly terrified, but unfortunately for you, you had a kind heart. You could see the blood and bandages on what you determined to be a man, and you knew you had to help him. You slowly crept towards him and slid the fire poker out of the way, deciding you could pick that up in a moment. You rolled the man over onto his back, catching sight of some poorly applied bandages and plenty of blood smeared around his chest. It seemed pretty apparent to you that the man before you had no clear knowledge of first aid, or at least not enough to deal with whatever had happened to him. You had also noticed the cracked porcelain mask adorning his face, which was admittedly a little weird, but who were you to judge? I mean you had technically broken in and invaded his home, so you were certainly in no position to critique anyone.

You decided to look for some supplies before messing with the injury underneath all those bandages, You went back towards the kitchen, grabbing the fire poker before you went (no sense in giving him a way to hurt you when you just wanted to help. You riffled around in the kitchen cabinets, trying to find anything that looked like a first aid kit, or hell even some bandages. You found nothing, huffing as you arose from your knees and started walking back towards where you left the man. You rounded the corner just as the man shot up. His breathing was ragged as he whipped his head over to you, his eyes boring into you through his mask. You slowly set the fire poker on the ground, raising your hands above your head to show you meant no harm. The man flinched backwards anyways, starting to look around wildly for an exit. His current state was unstable as it is, and you didn’t want him to further hurt himself.

“Hey! Hey hey hey I won’t hurt you. Let’s calm down a little alright? I’m sorry to startle you,” you said, keeping your voice low and not moving. He started staring at you again, still heaving with heavy breaths. It wasn’t a lot, but you took it as a positive move. “My name’s Y/N, what about you?” He continued staring at you, thinking over whether to tell you. He was scared, he was unsure, and he was hesitant to trust anyone right now. You were going to start talking again, figuring he didn’t feel comfortable telling you any information. Just as you opened your mouth, the man before you opened his.

“My name is Brahms, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The man before you spoke softly, his voice closer to a child’s than an adult’s. His manners stuck with him, despite his fear. Your heart melted, seeing him deflate with fear and defaulting back to politeness. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Brahms. Is this your house?” you said, trying your best to be gentle. The child-like voice also didn’t phase you much, either, as you had friends that would age regress. You were also more of a ‘go-with-the-flow’ sort of person, figuring to let people do what they wanted as long as it didn’t hurt themselves or anyone else.

“Yes, I’ve lived here my whole life,” Brahms responded to your question, surprised yet again by you. Most people were terrified when they saw him and heard him, their posture stiffening while they tried to back away. But he didn’t notice any of that with you; your breathing didn’t even change.

“Well Brahms, it’s a lovely house from what I’ve seen. I’m sorry to intrude, I didn’t know this house was occupied. I couldn’t help but notice you were hurt, can I help you with that?” Oh, you were so genuinely concerned for him. His eyes were tearing up, he didn’t think anyone could genuinely care for him, let alone a stranger. Meanwhile, you swear you could hear your heart break as he answered, “Please,” in such a scared, tired voice.

“Alright, thank you Brahms. Do you know where I can find some supplies? A blanket, some washcloths, a first aid kit?” You had lowered your hands by this point, kneeling down but still keeping a good distance away from your new friend, because you didn’t want to overwhelm him. You could tell this was a lot for him to handle at the moment. Brahms pointed to the broken remains of the mirror as he informed you, “There’s a first aid kit in the walls, just go straight left until you see it.” While you were a bit surprised to hear him telling you to walk in the walls, you figured it wasn’t the strangest part of your evening thus far. You promised him you would be right back and climbed up through the frame of the mirror, starting left just as he told you. You reached the kit in just a few minutes, glancing at the blood wiped along the walls. Why was there not a single soul to help this man when he clearly needed it? What had even happened in the first place? You filed these questions away for later as you slunk back the way you came. You had one hand on the wall, careful to go straight ahead through the darkened halls. You quickly came back to where the lights from the living room cast through the broken mirror, and you just as carefully made your way back out of the walls.

Brahms was dragging himself towards the couch about two [yards/meters] away, and it made you feel in your bones that this man was full of bad ideas and stubbornness. You hustled over to help him, saying to him, “Brahms! I could’ve helped you. Oh please be careful-” He’d made it to the couch, and only then did he turn to you and ask if you could help him onto the furniture. You let him use your body as a crutch as he lifted himself onto the cushions. He released you and sunk back into the softness of the couch, closing his eyes for a moment to regain his breathe. You briefly moved to the kitchen to find some sort of cloth to wet and clean up the mysterious man with. Brahms’ eyes were open by the time you returned.

You gently settled into the cushions beside him, opening the first aid kit to see what you had to work with: gauze, painkillers, medical tape, suturing equipment, a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, butterfly strips, and some antibiotics. You prepared yourself, and decided you should probably warn Brahms. You mumbled, “I have to clean it, and I might have to put some stiches in. Is that okay, Brahms?” Another surprise, being asked if it was alright for you to touch him. He had a feeling that you were just one big string of surprises, but interestingly enough he wanted to see what you would do next. He nodded his assent, and you set to carefully removing the dressing he had applied earlier. It was a relatively small hole compared to what you were expecting, but it still looked rather deep. You started by lightly scrubbing at the dried blood, cleaning up his skin before moving on to the wound itself. You found some cotton pads in the kit and dabbed some of the hydrogen peroxide on to it. “It may sting a little, Brahms, I’m sorry. But It’ll help keep it clean and healthy okay?” you informed him, your brow furrowed slightly. “It’s alright, I understand. I’ll be a good boy,” he whispered back to you, his tired mind and body aching to be good, to be taken care of. You nodded and returned to the task at hand, carefully pressing the cotton bad to the hole in his chest. He hissed as it burned, but he stayed still like a good boy. You winced with him, knowing it felt awful. Finally you pulled the pad away, blotchy with watery pink spots. The man next to you breathed a sigh of relief once you pulled the pad away. You examined the wound closer, trying to determine if it needed stitches. It was a pretty small surface area, but it seemed deep enough. It’s also important to mention that you weren’t a certified medical professional, and you had no idea what qualified for stitches.

You remembered the butterfly strips, deciding that would be a good compromise. You grabbed the antibiotic tubes, using your (thoroughly sterilized) finger to smooth the jelly over Brahms’ wound. After that was taken care of, you used a single butterfly strip to hold the wound closed, then covered it with a bandage. You stood up and stepped back to critique your work, deciding to deem it passible. “Alright Brahms, I think that’s the best I can do for now. Good job for sitting through that,” you praised him, and it certainly helped him to feel better. “Thank you, Y/N,” he offered, his voice still high but not quite as high as it was before. You sat back down next to him, and he turned to watch you. A few moments later, your broke the silence to ask, “Do you mind telling me what happened here?”

//Finite. Squeeee I hope y’all like it!! Looking at the gifs of Brahms getting stabbed made me sad, but also made me remember how attractive he is. I really want him to kiss me :((((

Sorry if there are any plot holes, or inaccuracies in either how the events happened compared to the movie or in the medical care. I plan on going into forensics and homicide investigation, and that usually involves more dead bodies than live ones. Also sorry it took me so long, I wanted to make sure it was good!! I gotta put that whole slashussy in there. <333

#slashers #slasher fucker #slasher x reader #slasher fluff #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelsire fluff #brahmsy #brahms heelshire the boy #brahms the boy #the boy 2016 #brahms needs some love #give him a hug for fucks sake #babie #<3333

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etrangersvoyageant · 1 year

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Rewire, day 3

Third and final day, head’s still a little weird, but I set out to catch a few more performances.

First off Tim Hecker & Vincent De Belleval. I came in late, just off the train, so I found myself in the back with other latecomers and people who needed to their phone to either communicate with another or update their social media profile, because either way they were making and sharing pictures of the performance.

Now describing said performance is a little tricky, I think mood plays a big role in this. Imagine a dark room, a beam of blue light appears, smoke follows and engulfs the first 5-7 rows. Over time the beam changes patterns, then characters and finally colours. At some point, I expected the words Los Angeles 2019 to appear, but alas no words materialized in the string of code.

Music wise, there’s noise, it builds up. Following the smoke, it engulfs the audience, this time the whole audience. It may sound boring, yes. Even if nothing happens, something happens. I’d say this performance borders between music and art in a minimalist sense. Like I said it’s about mood, it’s an experience. Hecker is great at turning/elevating noise into art.

That also means to me that if you commit to sit down, you’re committing for the whole thing. Of course, this is a festival, so people did leave, but generally speaking: the only way out is through. If I’d have left halfway, I might still wonder what would have happened…

After about an hour I and many with me emerged from the temporal tomb with a story, more of sound than of actual words.

Next up: Patrick Belaga, Asma Maroof & Tapiwa Svosve. This performance was the coming together of saxophone and flute player (Svosve), a cellist (Belaga) and electronic producer (Maroof, of Nuzunguzu fame). There were no visuals, but all wore red in their own respective styles (Belaga had wooden clogs on), with white, yellow and red light shining down upon them. It was a great collaboration to witness and listen to. The lack of visuals weren’t the problem, but some people in the back valuing their conversation over the performance were.

(Free suggestion: have something to share in a moment like this? Either leave or send each other messages with the notification sound off. Thank you!)

Fortunately, at times, the music was intense enough, that by concentrating on it, you could to dive in deep. When they were done, the players were visibly relieved and happy, especially Maroof appeared glad to have pulled it off.

With an empty hour, Sunday’s programme was rather weak, ahead of me, I decided, I wanted to check out a venue I hadn’t visited until now. By accident, I ended up at a séance with a dead rainforest in the catacombs of a church (-insert whippy comment here, if you like-). The attendees were witness of Vivian Caccuri & Thiago Lanis creating a rainforest in sound (and occasionally light). Especially Lanis was impressive, creating animal sounds with his voice: mosquitoes, various monkeys, a tiger already passed us… Yeah, a bit odd, but not bad. After the applause, they briefly spoke about their project, mentioning spending a month to create the project from scratch.

Then, I wanted to check if I could see Ana Roxanne, but the queue was long. It went through the venue’s lounge and into the street. Thus, I walked around, letting my thoughts wander, the night air was good for the head anyway.

After a while, I went to the last venue and caught the end of Zebra ‘And what the fuck do you know about that?!’ Katz’ performance and it seemed like a lot of fun, people were cheering a lot.

About 40 mins waiting and presided by a group cheer backstage, Kelela appeared upon a stage. It was just her and 4 units/pillars of light.

Beforehand I wondered if she’d fit at a festival like this, in my mind she’s a pretty big rnb star… I imagine she graces larger stages. And offence to Rewire, but no venue is exceptionally big. Funnily enough, a few songs in Kelela remarked how intimate the room was. Anyway, more importantly, she was great. Opening with ‘Washed Away’, followed by more off ‘Raven’ and calling her show a dance party with live vocals, brought cheers and applause. But there was more, ever so often she stopped to talk about things that matter to her. Nothing sermon-like, she led her songs do the talking, but just addressing male stoicism, emotional stuntedness and being emotionally available was important. Though, as an introvert, I’m not sure I can comment. Really though, I thought it was great, she said she felt the world is unkind enough already.

She also did some older songs, which was great. To watch her sing ‘Rewind’(?) under 2 white spotlights while being engulfed in smoke was simple yet outstanding. Plus, hearing the ‘Bank Head’ brought me back to the time I listened to Hallucinogen and a few select Boiler Room sets, while editing my thesis.

Finally, because all things must come to an end, she did ‘All the Way Down’ in a flurry of light and sound. (Testing my vampire eyes once more, I’ve been working inside too much.) Making her performance a great closing act to a solid festival.

It’s a shame it was over, but I wouldn’t have it any other way: Friday should be good, Saturday amazing and Sunday ends alright. That way you get closure. If Sunday ends with a bang, you may end up wandering for more while the festival has nothing left to give.

#live music diary #rewire #Kelela #Asma Maroof #Patrick Belaga #Tapiwa Svosve #Vincent De Belleval #Tim Hecker

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himbohood · 3 years

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facedown - @himbohood

a repost from my previous blog! i’ll be putting my old writings in my queue just so i can get them back on my blog. wanna be added to my tag list? click here!

paring: calum hood / female reader

about: this is based off of an experience i had with an ex-boyfriend and i started thinking about how this would be if i put calum in that memory instead. thus this was created. uni!sos

warnings: smut.

word count: 1688

The days she wasn’t bombarded with work or classes, she usually took up residency on her boyfriend's couch. Calum Hood split rent with three other guys and at this point in their relationship, she had meshed in well with the group. The atmosphere of the small three-bedroom house was more relaxing than any home Y/N had previously been in. With guitars hanging haphazardly on the wall and concert posters pinned up wherever the boys could fit them— this tiny house had become hers as well.

She sunk comfortably in the soft cushions of the couch, her legs lying lazily across Calum’s lap. Michael, one of the aforementioned roommates, took control of the TV. He switched back and forth between YouTube channels before landing on a let's player of some sort. Y/N briefly overheard something about Overwatch but then quickly tuned out after that. She didn’t entirely know if it was just how Calum looked with the LCD screen shining back on his strong features— but the urge to crawl into his lap got harder to resist.

Scooting closer each time he laughed along with his friend, Y/N let her hand brush against his chest. She figured Calum knew what she was hinting at because his hand moved dangerously close to the bottom of her fleece shorts. Y/N cursed herself for not just getting up and texting him to follow her back to his room. Though, she figured this was much more fun. Michael was seemingly oblivious of their silent sexual tension. If she wasn’t in such a haze of arousal, she might have joined in. Her mind just kept drifting away from the reality of the moment. The absolute need to be fucked by her boyfriend was the only thing that was important. Flashes of dirty memories ran through her brain and just the thought was enough for Y/N to fill a flutter in her stomach. She would have done anything at this moment for Calum to bend her over the back of this couch and fuck her senselessly. Maybe if she asked nicely, he’d pull her hair or spank her.

The thoughts her heavily amplified by his beautiful voice booming about whatever the fuck he and Michael were talking about. She didn’t understand how he could be so subtle at rubbing the soft skin of her thigh. How could Calum not break concentration on his conversation as he gave Y/N the smallest amount of stimulation for her problem? She knew he didn’t want to seem rude, but she could tell by the bulge against her legs that he was just as interested.

“ I think that I’m gonna go and pick up some food— you guys want to come with?” Michael said, finally getting up and heading towards the exit.

“Nah, we‘ll pick up something later. Thanks, though.” Y/N finally spoke after Calum did, “Yeah, I’m not really that hungry right now.”

Whenever that door shut, the two of them had the entire house to themselves. She didn’t have any time to blink before Calum snatched her up and pulled her in his lap. Y/N gasped at the sudden sensation and didn’t wait to roughly grind her hips down onto him. He made the prettiest noises and that only made her problem worse. She was sure that at this point he could just kiss her and she would cum.

Her voice became a sort of wine as she spoke, “ Cal, please touch me.” It was most definitely a beg because she didn’t have time to take things slow. Michael would be back soon and she really wanted the opportunity to ruin her vocal cords screaming Calums name.

There was a chuckle and then his lips made contact with her skin. They landed on her collarbone, teeth grazing the soft skin and vibrating it as he spoke. “ What’s gotten into you? Thought you were gonna fuck me in front of Mikey or somthin’” As he spoke he made quick work at pushing her shirt just over her breasts. Y/N let out a soft laugh, at his comment— moaning loudly when he bit the skin right above her breasts. “If we don’t hurry up I might have to fuck you while Mikey watches.”

Calum let out a low groan and quickly wrapped his arms around her midsection. Lifting Y/N he supported her by placing his hands firmly on her ass. He made quick work at getting them back to his room. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Y/N crawled on the bed. Caum watched in awe as she lay on her back and shimmied off her shorts and underwear. With her legs wide open, she was at full display for him. “You expect me not to eat you out when you look that good?” He teased, walking towards her as he pulled off his clothes. “We’ve got plenty of time for that later,” Y/N promised, discarding her shirt and bra. “If you fuck me well enough, I might sit on your face.” Her face was bright pink after speaking, half distracted by Calum hovering over her.

“I think I can do that.”

His hands explored everywhere they could. He saved the best for last. He didn’t tease her, figuring that she had already edged herself just from sitting on the couch earlier. His thumb came in contact with her clit and Y/N let out an almost painfully loud moan. She was slick before he even touched her. That didn’t entirely surprise Calum but god was it pride boosting. “You don’t even need me to get you ready, do you?” His words were a soft mumble, catching her lips in a very much needed kiss. He pulled away just for a moment, getting ready to angle himself in— but before he could she spoke. “Cal, fuck me from behind. I want you deep.”

Y/N didn’t have to ask twice because before she knew it Cal was directing her to turn around. She rested her head on his pillows, eagerly shaking her ass up at him. “Please fuck me, Cal.”

He lined himself up with her entrance, hand moving to brush down her spine as a sort of warning before he pushed in. She let out a loud, gasping-for-air type of breath when he bottomed out inside of her. “Fuck— Cal, baby you’re so big.” She moaned out, pressing back onto him as if to say more. She put her hands behind her back, asking Cal to hold them without even speaking. She didn’t know if it was her previous begging, but Y/N brought that same energy as he pulled her back against his chest. With one hand gripped tightly on her hip and the other grasped around her breast, Calum made quick work in starting his agonizingly slow pace.

At the mere thought of friction, Y/N’s knees were weak— but now that she was finally getting what she wanted the idea of being quiet was a joke. The slow thrusts of his hips didn’t last long. Y/N figured he was just getting his balance because soon enough both of his calloused hands landed on her hips. He gave her a kiss that almost read farewell before pushing her face down into the pillows.

“ Mmph— fuck you look so good like this baby,” his voice filled the room with soft, pleasure-filled mumbles. Y/N could only respond in incoherent gasps and mewls, eagerly bouncing back on his cock in desperation. One hand left her hip and the loss of it almost stung, but it went away when that hand traced up her spine and tangled in her hair. The loud noise of his hips snapping against Y/N ass practically filled the tiny house.

Her knees were weak and her forehead was covered in sweat. She tried so hard to tell him that she was close, but whenever her words failed her, she was happy that he just knew. Calum fucked her mercilessly into the bed, his hand now finding her clit and rubbing firm calculated circles against it.

His name was the only thing that she could think as she fell apart. Screaming his name in praise, in thanks, in rejoice as she came around him. She fell from an unbelievable high and only felt it coming back as he focused on his orgasm.

She could only imagine how his face looked as he fucked her. His soft grunts were perhaps the most beautiful sound in the world, but what was even prettier was what he said next,

“ Baby— fuck, I’m about to cum.”

She hated that he had to pull out, but the empty feeling was almost made better by the warm ropes decorating her back.

She relaxed on her stomach as Calum lazily brushed a finger through the mess on her back and pressed a firm kiss to her shoulder.

“Let me get a towel, yeah?” and with that, he wandered into his ensuite and wasted no time in cleaning Y/N up. Falling to warm up space beside her, Calum eagerly pulled her on his chest.

They sat for a moment, relaxing in the post-sex high. His hand brushed through her hair, lips leaving kisses across her forehead. She sighed, nuzzling her face against his chest before doing the same to him. Her fingers ran through his hair and her lips littered his skin. It was quiet for a bit— the world didn’t exist… until, well until Micheal made it known that he had been back for around 15 minutes.

“ Are you guys done fucking yet? I bought you food, so if you’re not done I’m eating it!” His highly annoyed voice boomed through the house which elicited a laugh from both Calum and Y/N.

“Fuck,” she laughed, “Guess we lost track of time?”

“I’m gonna be real honest with you, I forgot he was even coming back.” and with that, the only important thing the two laughed together and rolled out of their haze to get dressed and eat the food Micheal had so graciously got them.

#calum hood fic #calum hood smut #calum smut #calum hood x reader #calum hood one shot

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spicyspencerreid · 4 years

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A Little Funny

Fem!Reader; BAU!Reader// A whole 1,688 words :)

Warnings// Swearing!! Very very unproofread and I wrote it in one sitting. Okay this gets pretty steamy, it’s like almost smut, I got pretty carried away. FLUFF.

Key// Y/n- your name Y/n/n- your nickname Y/l/n- your last name.

From Anon// can you write something where Spencer and the reader are in a secret relationship and Hotch walks in on them at work. could you also add that the reader is super bubbly and laughs a lot. thank you! p.s. i love your writing.

To Anon// Ty & I love this idea :)))) I tried to include all of it, hope you like it!

Summary// It’s short and sweet, pretty much the request down to a T :)

He had to know what he was doing. He had to. Him and Derek were having a casual conversation, but there was absolutely nothing casual about the way his tongue traced over his lower lip. You were staring, but to be honest, you couldn’t help it. The way his tongue moved when he spoke. The focused look on his face was making you melt. You repeatedly crossed and uncrossed your legs, trying to stay sane as you watch the way he moved.

“Y/n,” Emily snapped her fingers at your face with a smile as she returned to your seat, “You’re practically drooling,” you ignored her teasing, more focused on the fact that she’d gotten in the way of your view. She was the only member of the team who knew about you and Spencer’s secret relationship. You liked to think Emily knowing about you two was a good thing. You were always giggling and smiling, even with this job you’d managed to keep up your happy spirit. So there were times when Spencer would call you his light in the darkness, or his sunshine, and you were happy you two could be happy around her.

She almost lost her shit when you told her, well told is an exaggeration. You were having a girls night and she saw one of Spencer’s favorite socks on the carpet next to your bag. You’d begged her not to say a single word to anyone else, claiming you and Spencer were waiting for the right moment to tell the team, and while she’d been great about that, the teasing was relentless.

“Oh stop,” you sneered, “...and can you move just a little bit to the left.”

“Pathetic, Y/n, pathetic,” you smiled at her and she did as you asked, positioning herself so that she wasn’t obstructing your view of Spencer. You returned to staring, slowly dragging the pen in your hand on your lower lip, before lightly chewing it, you needed something to occupy your mouth more than anything. And then the hand motioning started, he was trying to explain something to Derek. You watched his hands, your mind wandering to other places, other places you definitely shouldn’t have been thinking about during work. Derek went back to his seat, and Spencer looked over you. You took a second to register the fact he was looking at you, still dragging your pen along your teeth. Spencer raised his eyebrows at you and you snapped out of it, immediately blushing and looking down at your paperwork. Emily asked you a question and you snapped back into work mode. The both of you started to look at a document when you felt Spencer’s presence approach your desk.

“Ahem, Agent Y/l/n,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“What could I do for you Dr. Reid?” You bit down on your pen, trying to stop yourself from giggling at the formality as you stared down at the paper, teasing him by refusing to make eye contact.

“I need to find some old case files and was wondering if you could help me out?” He bit his lip, clearly also trying to hold back a smile as well. You looked up to meet his eyes, instantly melting even more.

“I guess I could be of service,” you looked over at Emily, who was fake gagging across the desk from you. You glared at her before following Spencer down the hall into the file room. He shut the door behind you and you grabbed one of his hands.

“So, which boxes should I start looking through first?” You smiled as you loosely played with the fingers that had been on your mind.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Y/n/n,” he smiled as he pulled you into him, connecting his lips with yours. His hands immediately went to your waist, yours making their way up to his neck. You played with the little hairs on the back of his neck, slowly threading your fingers through his chocolate brown locks. He lightly bit your lower lip in response. You let out a breathy laugh and playfully tugged on his hair, a groan escaping from his lips as you did so.

“Mmn S-spence?” You pulled away, earning a frown from him at the loss of contact.

“Mhm,” he moved your hair out of the way of your neck, and used the opportunity to pepper kisses on it. He quickly found the spot right under your ear, and sucked lightly. You let out a small moan, cursing under your breath. You could feel him smirk against your skin. You winced at his cold hands as they stroked your lower back under your shirt, leaving goosebumps along the way. He knew all of your weaknesses, and he knew them well.

“Anybody could walk in,” it came out breathy as you struggled to form coherent sentences. A little voice in the back of your head was screaming at you to think with your very capable brain instead of your...but how could you listen with Spencer’s lips on your neck and his hands making their way under your shirt.

“Guess you better be quiet then,” he whispered in your ear, ending his assault on his neck and pulling you back into his lips from under your shirt, kissing you deeply. His tongue lightly swiped against your lips, his way of asking you for entrance. You quickly obliged, and your tongues danced together in motion. His hands roamed all over your body, stroking your back from under your shirt and lightly gripping you through your bra. He moved his hands, reaching under your skirt, his fingers lightly tracing over where you needed him most. He groaned when he felt how wet you were, knowing it was all because of him, assuming you’d been this wet since before you entered the file room, and his assumption was correct. You started to loosen his tie and his fingers lightly traced over the outline of your underwear. He pulled away from your lips, awaiting your okay. You nodded and he reached up to your skirt buckle, desperate to get it off, but instantly pushed back when he heard the doorknob turning. Your heart stopped for a second before you went into profiler mode. You had quick reflexes, it was part of the job, but you weren’t sure if you could fake out anyone else on your team. You turned to face one of the file cabinets, opening it and pretending to look for something, and Spencer did the same, trying to cover the bulge in his pants.

“Reid I need-” his eyes didn’t even widen, he just stared.

“Oh, hey Hotch,” you desperately tried to sound confident, but your voice cracked just a little bit because you never had a moment to catch your breath. You only turned your head towards him in an effort to hide your body before staring back at the files you knew nothing about.

He looked at you, then back at Spencer, then back at you. You did your best to avoid eye contact, but Hotch maintained it with Reid. Then, a smile broke out on his face. You looked up to see his smile and a huge hearty laugh. You and Spencer looked at each other before looking out at him, completely mindfucked with what was happening. He turned around and walked out, still laughing.

“What just-” you could barely form words.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Spencer closed the cabinet in front of him.

“Okay, now we should definitely go,” you turned back to face Spencer, smiling at his flushed face.

“You go first, I’m gonna need,” he cleared his throat, “a couple seconds,” you looked down at his pants, then nodded, covering your face with your hand in an effort to stifle your laughter, “it’s not funny,” he said with a shit-eating grin, completely contradicting himself.

“Oh it’s very funny....” you giggled.

“Okay it’s a little funny,” he laughed with you as you adjusted your skirt, trying to look presentable, “You look fine, now go, you being here isn’t exactly helping my...problem,” you giggled even louder at him and leaned in to peck his lips. You gave him a teasing wave as you shut the door behind you. You went back to sit at your desk and Emily raised her eyebrows at you.

“Hotch walked in,” you whispered as you bit back a laugh.

“No!” She gasped. Right on queue Spencer walked back into the bullpen. You went back to work for a couple seconds, looking up at Spencer every so often and laughing to yourself.

“Y/l/n, Reid, can I see you two in my office,” your eyes snapped up to meet Spencer’s as you stood up. You heard a laugh come from Emily and made a mental note to get back at her later. You and Spencer walked up together, entering Hotch’s office.

“Reid did you ever grab those files I asked for?” He didn’t look up from his desk, still scribbling on some papers.

“I-I um didn’t get a chance to get those,” it took everything in you to hold in a laugh as Spencer stuttered over his words.

“Well, if you could grab those in a minute, that would be great,” he looked up to both of you, “and if you could also keep your personal relationship at home that would also be great.” Heat rose to your cheeks.

“Yes Sir,” you nodded.

“That will be all,” he spoke, and you and Spencer made your way to the door, “if one of you could tell Rossi he owes me $20 that would also be great,” you looked back at Hotch, he was smiling as he wrote on his papers. You and Spencer walked out as fast as you could.

“You should’ve told me there were actual files,” you playfully poked his side, “I thought you were just trying to get me alone.”

“I don’t need to make up a story to get you in bed, Y/n/n,” he shot back, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Hm okay, we’ll see about that Dr. Reid,” you smiled as you made your way back to your desk.

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rosheendubh · 3 years

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WIP...art-manipulation as visual inspiration for The Elegy of Dead Kingdoms...(crossover of StarWars/revamped Thrawn trilogy, FireFly/Serenity, and the Keltiad...also, spoof SpaceOpera-RockOpera featuring anyone from David Bowie, to LED Zepplin, NewOrder, U2, Ah-Ha...etc)...

~Background

~ At the impetus of River Tam, and the Operative, the Serenity’s renegade crew defies transit laws prohibiting unauthorized access to the wormhole connecting Terran space with the quadrant of the Republic Alliance and the Galactic Empire. Having only a fragmented record mentioning a lone survivor from a planetary massacre, the crew track rumors of a psionically gifted orphan said to have come from the Terran Fringe system of New Celtica, possessing the ability of manipulating the molecular structure of organic matter. An exile once in the service of Palpatine, whose skill of biokinesis Thrawn covets to stabilize the unpredictable violence of his cloned hybrids. A woman with adversaries on both sides of the wormhole, winning a Jedi to her cause, and determined to discover the key to a secret kept hidden for a thousand years. A buried legend of Old Terra, Earth That Was, that may be the last defense between the ancient darkness wakened by Thrawn‘s pursuit of absolute dominion, and the destruction of all life throughout the galaxy...(queue *cinematic drama music*)...

Somewhere between the battle of the Dark Force fleet, and Wayland, MonMontha offers a last ditch effort at negotiation with Thrawn. Imperial forces victorious in recent campaigns, have pushed back the RepublicAlliance to their InnerPlanetary systems. Rogue genetic scientists from the Terran quadrant, refusing to abandon their research after the PAX Hydrochlorate failure on Miranda, found a ready market amid trans-conduit Imperial war-profiteers, for their newest discovery. An archaic protogenome derived from dark-matter structures, endowing hybridized Reaver clones with real-time tissue regenerative capacity. These clones now render Thrawn’s army nearly indestructible. The scene above is merely my toying with a concept of the ethereal, and formidable River Tam crossing paths with the illustrious brilliance embodied in the GrandAdmiral Thrawn...

~scene~

On Coruscant, during Monmontha’s attempt at negotiating a peace, Rhyanon ferch Garowen (alluded to above) blatantly rejects Thrawn‘s coercive effort at bringing her to his side during a dinner banquet. B/c of this act of arrogance, Thrawn vows no mercy in the progression of his campaign, conquering and converting sector upon sector into a dark matter/anti-matter morass which becomes dubbed The Dimensional Rift, despite the valiant efforts of the Republic Alliance squadrons, directed by LukeSkywalker, and allies, to fend off the onslaught of Thrawn’s Dreadnaught fleet.

Before all that though, with the evening following the dinner still at hand, Thrawn abides by the Old Republic etiquette of host and guest, honoring civil diplomacy amongst enemies. A requisite social diversion-music or a dance-ensuing in the Palace reception hall holds no interest to him in Rhyanon’s absence. Preferring solitude, he meanders out to a balcony overlooking Coruscant’s expanse of lights, twinkling ladders of motion, reaching up to the lower atmosphere. And here, she follows after him minutes later, floating between shadows, a specter of innocence and dangerous beauty.

She pauses beneath a statue of some nameless goddess, a figure of Victory or Life, a pretension of lesser cultures. Weaker nations seeking hope in empty icons. The girl, young woman really, by the standards of human chronology, offers an entirely different contemplation.

From the sofa where he’s seated, viewing her from across the fountain, Thrawn appreciates the lithe symmetry of her form, a subtle disguise of strength and grace. Dangerous beauty. “You’re very like her, River Tam. A work of art, a living masterpiece,” he comments.

For as young as she is, not more than 20 years surely, she carries herself with a remarkable serenity. Stepping lightly around the other sofa, she leans her hip against the cushioned neck rest. Barely flickering an eyelid, she focuses luminous dark eyes on him, shining through the mottled patterns of light scattered between them.

Her voice resembles her figure, light and flowing. “A failed experiment, you mean, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” Flawlessly, she speaks his name, though he knows they weren’t introduced at any point previous to this moment. ”I was supposed to be like them—the researchers were trying to make me like them. One of your chimeric hybrids.”

“Ah, the one who got away,“ he muses. Something at that stirs a flicker in her dark gaze. “Yes, little Albatross, I read the classified reports of your Core Parliament. About your brother, the escape. An elegant devising. And a lesson as to the deficiencies of private-contract security.“

Tension firms a line between her brows, hardens her expression as she glances away from him for a moment. “It wouldn’t have mattered.“

His derision comes out as a short, barking laugh. “Why? Because your escape resulted more from the incompetence of poorly trained guards than the alleged skill of your brigand crew mates?

Her attention swings back to him, conviction firm in her words. “No. Because my brother watches out for me. He protects me. And he loves me.”

Thrawn says nothing, stoic against her emotion, such a human flaw. Rubbing his thumb and middle finger together, of the hand draped eloquently off the arm-wrest, he continues sizing up this most intriguing amalgam of softness and mettle.

”Love is a weakness,” satisfaction grim in his tone, picking at a piece of this puzzle embodied by River Tam. Toying with it, testing how she’ll react. “It causes distraction from the warrior’s path. Makes them vulnerable to fear. And you, little Albatross, were foremost, molded as a weapon. A living masterpiece of perfection.”

Her lids slant, head tipped to the side slightly. “I dream about them still. The other test subjects. The Reavers. The dreams used to frighten me. They were worse when the scientists would be administering some new cocktail. They’re not as bad as they used to be, since Miranda. But their voices—I...hear them-“a frown ghosting over her features”-though I’ve learned to hush them.”

”I think you hear a lot more than that, River Tam.”

Challenge broods in a strange magnetism between them. ”So do you,” she says mildly, sending a wary shiver over his skin. How she knows about inoculating himself with the protogenome he can’t begin—

-of course he can. She’s a mind-reader, a telepath. What can’t she pick out of the whirl of thought composing humanoid psyches if she’s so determined?

His awareness smolders like embers in a breeze, open to the Shadow’s primordial sequences merged into his own cells. Enhancing perception, layers of reality peeled back when he channels this infernal heat coursing through his blood. Vision, smell, sound, his mind branching like light off a faceted diamond, reflecting images in a 1000 different plains. And Thrawn, glorying in the draught of fractured darkness.

River’s eyes glint in guarded scrutiny, attuned, perhaps to the whisper of power subsumed by Thrawn’s cultivated urbanity. Wandering over to where he’s seated, she lowers herself next to him on the couch. Her mind brushes against his like leaves floating upon a watery surface, remaining on the periphery without venturing into the depths.

“Chiis physiology-Stamina, strength, resilience against extremes of physical exposure. Superior reflexes and intellect inherent to your species, allowing adaptive advantages over the millennia. A robust psychology keeping you from succumbing to the deterioration of sensory assimilation, the way your clones eventually will. A perfect medium for channeling the Shadow.”

Thrawn wonders where she’s going with her exposition. She bears the full weight of his scorching gaze with nary a flinch. The fey-like curiosity alive across her youthful grace causes a rare unease, unused to be so unabashedly studied. He holds himself still, tensing at the light pressure of her hand taking his out of his lap, wrapping delicate fingers over a wrist corded by muscle.

”Everyone has a weakness,” she says. “Even you.”

Anger snarls beneath the surface of his poise, a broiling red froth that must have blazed up in his gaze. ”Whatever you think you see child, you take liberties of interpretation,” speaking in cold, controlled wrath before which she pales, breathing deep to collect herself. The pressure of her touch on his wrist, though, remains steady.

Her hand, slender fingers resting atop his own, no suggestion of anything other than gentleness. His own hand, larger, stronger, a grip that could crack her bones with minimal exertion. Strangle the air from her lungs, twist her fragile neck like silken twine. Tangling the rich brown waves of her hair in his grasp, forcing her head back till her spine might snap, plundering her mouth as he would plunder her body. Raze her mind till she was left a weeping pile of bruised limbs and torn clothes, cowering on the chill marble floor, her thighs bleeding like the rags of her mind.

Unperturbed, she shares every image coalesced in his thoughts. Each portrait of violence fading into the recess of darkness where the Shadow brews and twists like smoke above the infernal hells. As well, he’s viewed the record of her encounter with the Reavers after Miranda. Like Rhyanon, she would fight him with a skill capable of delaying the ultimate conquest. This wisp of a child, scarcely into womanhood, moving like sand and water, a song of death captured in every leap and twist. Every dive and slash as she wound a choreography of slaughter against an entire pack of beastial invaders. The outcome inevitably in his favor, if for no other reason than the greater strength of his sheer physicality would overwhelm, exhaust her eventually, compared to human anatomic inadequacy.

“A matter of minutes, to take you. An act of utility, really--to break you. Make you beg for a mercy that would never come.“

Her eyebrow crooks up, scolding or skepticism. “But you wouldn’t do that, any of those things.”

Her patient humoring isn’t what he anticipated. ”What makes you think so?” he asks out of mere speculation, momentarily forgetting the antagonizing subtlety guiding their conversation.

”Because you‘ve seen what I am. The weapon, not the woman. And,“ she says, sighing with an almost child-like assurance, looking out to the far horizon, “because seduction isn’t your weakness. She is.”

Damn the girl, for gut-punching through his composure with such guileless effort. His gaze follows hers, tracking the aerial traffic dotting Coruscant’s night skies in a flickering menagerie. He concentrates on keeping his breathing even, stilling his mind, as he considers his reply. The silhouettes of soaring towers outlined by shimmering lights blot out the sky, the glow which would normally be visible on a less metropolitan planet, of satellites in orbit, and stars far beyond.

”One word,” he says finally. “She could have changed the tide of this war for the Republic with one word.“

She turns, a searching intensity in her deep gaze. Seeing too much within him. “So could you, change the tide of this war for Republic,” she says softly, giving a gentle squeeze of his wrist.

Impatient and irritated with the poignancy in her tone, Thrawn shakes her hand off. “She has no idea, the fate to which she’s condemned the galaxy,” he tells her with a hard look, rising off the sofa. He looms over her, eyes burning across her face, so that for the first time, she shudders away from the brewing wrath. He marvels again, the steel disguised beneath the seeming delicacy of her body. Her sandeled feet tucked beneath her on the sofa, the fabric of her dress, simple design of polyfiber cotton, drapes fine curves of breast, hip, and thigh.

Despite her attention fastened upon the night horizon, nothing of intimidation colors her posture, but sadness tinges the turned-down line of her lips. He bows his head to her before heading back to the reception hall lying through a corridor adjoined to the balcony. A salute, a parting to conceal his remorse of the lost fate she chooses with her friends and allies.

“And you, little Albatross,“ he rasps in dire promise, the epithet snaring her surprised glance up at him. “You have no idea what’s coming. None of you do.”

A wasted masterpiece of living art, dangerous beauty.

—

Watching him stride away into the dim hall, the Grand Admiral’s disappointment aches like an overstrained joint. Bothersome, but eventually fading unless exacerbated. In his absence, the darkness hovers about her, the balcony esconsed, now, in transient quiet. Illusory peace.

Alive, so alive, the hum of myriad thoughts, voices, hopes, griefs—the gambit composing sentient life throughout the city. The planet. Her mind-reading truly can’t extend with any precision beyond the palace, but a general hum always persists in the background of her consciousness. The sound of living beings. A vibration silenced forever upon Miranda.

That silence had almost broken her sanity more than any experimentation. As scientists sought to harness innate hyper-sensory perception with neurochemical alterations, subjecting her to an intensive programming, molding her mind-body duplex into prime mental and physical conditioning. In the process, she was often torn, battered, abused, and tortured, her mind confused, shifting between lucidity and dissociation and nightmare. But never breaking.

The sound of death, of nothing. Emptiness like a vacuum, no thought, or feeling. Miranda had almost broken her. Miranda, it turned out, opened the road to a recovery of herself. What she is, what she’s meant to be? No one seems to know. At least not since Simon rescued her from the illicit lab which had been her prison. Hyper-awareness, sensory adepts, psychic traits expressed amongst humans were hardly uncommon through the Terran quadrant, both Core and Fringe systems. Posited by some scientists as a natural development of sentient consciousness, induced by interstellar travel over the centuries.

Among these foreign systems across the wormhole, peoples attributed such gifts to some metaphysical energy field. The Force. Light and Dark. The association, to River’s thinking, paradoxical for a property endemic to all beings, carrying no inherent morality until determined by the intent of the wielder. Perhaps she just didn’t quite grasp its intricacies as yet, conceding that nuances of intuition, emotion, passive reception, meditation still often eluded her. The Force embedded such concepts, rather than the more actualized focus of psychic traits held by the majority of systems native to the Terran quadrant.

What she is. What she‘s meant to be—*a weapon, a work of art*. *No*, she answers her own query, the feeling of defiance liberating. *A failed experiment. The one who got away.*

”And you forget,“ she whispers to the attentive night. “I can still hear them in my head. All the time. Just like you do, Mitt’raw’nuruodo.”

Miranda is not what Thrawn has in mind, that sort of emptiness. He wants something more. Under Imperium’s auspices, subjugating and assimilating one star system after another, spreading this corruption of time and reality, bleeding the Dark Entity’s ravenous, primordial substance like an oil-slick settling into the sinkholes of what had been viable Star-systems. Seeding these tortured hybrids cloned of Reavers, and whatever other mutated derangements of horror will fuse and divide in an incubator. With his enhanced soldiers, their minds a racket of incessant savagery, submission to Thrawn throughout the galaxy seems inevitable. Especially now that Intel, and Republic specialists working with Rhyanon, recently confirmed the adaptive capacity of certain hybrids to infect other living creatures with their intracellular genetic material.

They’ll never be completely hushed, even in the deepest caverns of her own mind. Reavers. The chimeric hybrids. They howl, writhe, snarl, and scream in agony beyond their comprehension. But the havoc of their consciouses, keeping the hybrids contained as a utilizable resource requires increasing concentrations of sedatives, hyponotics, and psychogenic pharmaceuticals.

She can feel their echo within Thrawn, too. Not of the violence, but his craving the Shadow’s power. It’s why he covets Rhyanon-her abilities of biologic manipulation, transforming the very backbone molecules of life. Healing, rejuvenating, reconstructing, restoring from disease, infection, deterioration and decay. Thirsting for the surcease she could provide, balancing the Dark Entity’s immersion of his own constitution. A living masterpiece, the kind of gifted elegance Thrawn desired, Rhyanon, like River, was another one who’d gotten away. Another failed experiment. Another dangerous beauty.

Rhyanon loathes him. Holding her captive on his flagship under the influence of cortical inhibitors, and hallucinogens. Trying to force her into stabilizing the synaptic connections of higher brain function in his hybrids. Dampening their insanity as the cloned offspring reached maturity. Coercing her in other ways as well, while she resisted the influence of intoxicants deluging her system. That was why she rejected his play at truce earlier during the dinner, an offer to join him voluntarily. That. And the fact she and the Jedi were patently lovers. A circumstance exacerbating the already furious enmity between the Grand Admiral and Luke.

Rhyanon would use those same graces of biokinesis to tear him apart one atom at a time, despite the danger of inducing her own body’s destruction. The price of biopsionic talents, a check limiting the potential for abuse of that power over life and death. Unfortunate, in that Rhyanon’s ability, synergized with the particular strengths shared between their small group of Force-wielders and sensory adepts, offers the only potential counter against Thrawn’s growing influence.

Finding some way of battling this Dark Matter entity. This Abaddon, commanding elemental forces dating from the universe’s origins. A being capable of destroying multiple star-systems if they resist its Seeding. They’d all seen what happened on Namsonis 4 in the aftermath of losing the majority of Dreadnaughts. A desperate evacuation. A world wrenched apart like a ball of mud crushed in a fist. A solar system facing a monstrous dehiscence of time and space, heart of chaos, blowing a hole through the core of a sun, and incinerating the other 6 planets spared Namsonis’s fate. Hours later, a festering wound across the void of black, rocky debris and ionized gas discharges the last traces of a star system no longer existing between tomorrows.

Contrary to the stillness in which she sits, River’s thoughts spin countless strands in the spreading web of her mind, her fingers running absently along the ridge of her collarbone. Picturing simultaneous star-maps, envisioning parallel scenarios of navigation vectors, battle engagements, the stratified calculations worked in trans-dimensional matrices. Always hearing the Reavers seething in the recess of her soul.

Finally, arriving at some conclusion, she reveals to the passing night, ”I do know exactly what’s to come.” And maybe, maybe there’s a chance. One distant, improbable-verging on impossible-chance they have of subverting this menace before it reaches the Terran quadrant.

#Star Wars #firefly serenity #grand admiral thrawn #River Tam #Rhyanon ferch Garowen #Luke Skywalker #Lattice of Infinity

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cheri-translates · 4 years

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[CN] Shaw’s Exorcism Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Note: This date was translated by @redqueenschoice! It’s on my blog because she doesn’t want to put individual translations on hers...

Shaw’s Qixi Collection: Date ♡ / Call 1 / Call 2 / Event / Special Call

Check out Victor’s date (by @lucienism) and Kiro’s date (by @skyholders) too! A lot of effort has been put in by these three lovely humans T^T💕 Do send them lots of love!!

On the night of Qixi, I had a terrible encounter and happened to be saved by Shaw. In order to repay the favour afterwards, I promised to run errands for him for seven days. Very soon, the seven days are coming to an end…

The crescent moon reminiscent of a bow hangs in the sky, the canopy of the heavens are painted pitch black. The little starlight that filters through the dense canopy of the forest scatters, and a line of men make their way through the mountain’s forest in a hurry, the swords on their waists still red with fresh blood.

A drop of blood falls onto the surface of a leaf, before it is trodden underfoot all of a sudden.

MC: Ahh…

Bandit Leader: Tell me the truth!

My head was harshly hit, and I let out a weak, muffled cry through the cloth stuffed in my mouth.

The image of my family’s pitiful state right before the moments of their deaths surface in my mind again, and my throat tightens, both my heart and mind unable to move on from the tumultuous upheaval in my life.

It was only supposed to be a trip to the neighbouring village to visit some relatives. How had it come to this?

Bandit Leader: The ones we’ve gone after the last few days weren’t lacking in anything, huh? Hiding so many goods…

Bandit Underling: That’s right. Especially this young girl here, she’s still young and healthy.

Bandit Underling One: Boss, before we sell her off, how about we… ehehe.

Upon hearing his perverted words and laughter, I start thrashing about in a panic, but the ropes wound tightly around my wrists and ankles just won’t budge no matter how hard I pull. Tears stain the blindfold over my eyes and I stretch my hands towards my waist, getting ready to put up a fight with everything I have - I’d rather die than be disgraced in such a way.

At this moment, however, he is interrupted by another low voice.

Bandit Underling Two: That’s enough. You can make merry anytime you like, but in this instance, it’s better for us to hurry and get on our way. I heard these woods aren’t to be trusted at night, and there are rumours that monsters come out at night.

Bandit Underling One: Big Brother, aren’t you a little too believing of these old folk tales? Where on earth would there be demons, and even if there were, I’m not scared of them!

Note from Red: and here, ladies and gentlemen, is the beginning to every horror movie ever

A cocky laugh leaves his lips, but the second he does, the surroundings in all four directions abruptly fall silent.

All of a sudden, a long, piercing cry rips the still night in two.

The sound is delightful to the ears, yet it is striking enough to tear through the haze - upon hearing it once, it would be irreversibly carved into one’s heart.

I only feel my body sway for a moment, but in the blink of an eye, I find myself shoved down onto the ground. The second my shoulder collides with the wet, slippery dirt, I hear the bandits’ terrified shouts flying to and fro above my head.

Bandits: Mon… Monster!!!

The snarl of a predator beast, the metallic hiss of a blade being unsheathed, frantic and hurried footsteps… followed by bloodcurdling screams.

The chaos and what I experienced a few hours ago are far too similar, the same sounds echoing inside my head until they slowly fade away to nothing.

I cannot see anything in front of me, and can only smell the faint scent of blood mixed with that of the cool forest suffusing my nose.

At this moment, footsteps gradually approach me.

I hold my breath, and feel cold sweat slowly trickling down my back.

Who is it? Did one of the bandits survive?

Or is it… the monster?

The owner of those footsteps stop before me, and a strong hand pulls me up from the ground.

The person lifts up my bangs and a fingertip meets my forehead, the ice cold sensation making me shiver.

Mystery Man: Hah.

He seems to have no intention of loosening my bindings, a peculiar silence filling the space between me and the nameless man before me. With the blindfold over my eyes, my senses of hearing and touch are my only links with the external world.

His breathing is very light, but with each exhale that leaves his mouth, I sense undeniable danger in the air. I can feel his gaze, like that of a wild predator surveying its prey, as if he would sink his fangs into me in the next second.

MC: Mmn!

Terrified, I duck my head away from him, trying to avoid his touch. Instead, I hear a short laugh coming from the person in front of me.

Mystery Man: Fine. Since you don’t want me to save you, just wait here on your own, then.

With these words, the heated breaths across my cheeks vanish and the man seems to disappear into thin air, leaving no trace. My surroundings are completely silent once again.

He left?

I don’t dare to confirm it myself, waiting where he left me for a moment. Once the sound of birds and chirping of crickets returns to the area, I let out a breath of relief and begin to move once again.

Since I was under constant scrutiny of the bandits, I didn’t dare to do this earlier. Now that there’s no one in the vicinity, I can finally reach for the small knife I had secretly strapped to my waist.

This is the last thing my parents, who died earlier this year, left me to defend myself with.

I carefully feel around for the handle of the blade, wrapping my fingers around it. Because I can’t see and my movements are restricted, the tip of the blade ends up nicking my skin a few times. Gritting my teeth, I bear the pain and work on severing my bindings.

Note from Red: guys this is the mc we need but don’t deserve-

When I finally pull off the blindfold around my eyes, I see that the moon has already moved considerably towards the west.

Apart from the goods the bandits had been carrying with them earlier, I don’t see anyone else when I glance about.

MC: Did those people… really get eaten?

At the thought of the danger I experienced earlier, and might still be in, I couldn’t care less about the injuries littering my body, and force myself to my feet with the support of a tree branch, preparing to leave the forest as fast as I can.

The mountain paths are confusing and complicated, and I feel like I’ve been wandering around in circles for awhile when I finally hear the sound of running water coming from nearby.

MC: That’s great! If there’s water, that means I can clean my wounds!

I hobble towards the source of the sound slowly, but just as I’m pushing through the underbrush, a sound suddenly rings out through the air, causing me to freeze where I stand in fear.

Mystery Man: Don’t panic, everyone has a share.

It’s the voice of that man from earlier!

Before I can react, there’s the sound of flapping wings in the distance, taking my attention with it. Several strangely shaped skeletal birds flap over, and from their shrill, clamorous cries, it sounds as if they’re begging for food from someone.

I turn my head, only to see a young man casually lounging in a rowboat on the surface of a pool, next to a grove of trees. In his hand is a bunch of evening primroses. Under the light of the night sky, their petals give off a gentle glow.

The young man’s long legs are crossed, golden eyes half narrowed lazily as he looks at me. His expression is leisurely and indolent, and I see the petal of an evening primrose held casually between his teeth.

If I hadn’t encountered him in such an unusual circumstance, in the depths of a mountain forest, perhaps I would have thought he was the pampered young master of a rich merchant or businessman.

Mystery Man: Oh, that sentence wasn’t quite right. It should have been ‘every bird has a share’.

As if the skeletal birds can understand what he’s saying, they let out noisy chirps before obediently taking the petals from his hand one by one. The second the petals leave his palm, they dissolve into puffs of black smoke being swallowed up instantly by the skeletal birds.

Mystery Man: Today’s haul wasn’t too bad, there’s so much evil energy about, there’s enough for all of you to gorge yourselves on for a long time…

Mystery Man: Oi, you little idiot at the back, I caught you! Be a bit more honest, you’re not allowed to cut the queue…

Skeletal Bird: Squawk squawk?

Mystery Man: What did you say? Why didn’t I swallow up that little lady from earlier?

Mystery Man: Come on, do I really seem like a scoundrel who doesn’t take proper care of women… yeah, I am.

Trivia from Red: The word ‘scoundrel’ was translated from is the negative of a Chinese idiom 怜香惜玉, meaning a gentleman who takes care of the fairer sex. Shaw referred to himself as someone unlike a gentleman, so that’s how I translated it.

Skeletal Bird: Squawk!

Mystery Man: [clicks his tongue] I was just playing around a little. After I feed the lot of you, I’ll go back and save her, is that cool with you?

At hearing his words, I secretly make a face in his direction, muttering under my breath.

MC: I didn’t need you to save me… I got out on my own...

A skeletal bird suddenly caws in my direction. The young man’s eyes narrow instantly, the light in his eyes intensifying to something swift and fierce, before he turns his gaze right in my direction.

Mystery Man: Whoever’s there, come out.

I’ve been found out!

Note from Red: She, in fact, had been found out.

I subconsciously take a step back, but all of a sudden, the injury on my leg flares up with immense pain. My body loses balance all at once, and I find myself pitching backwards before I know what’s happening.

MC: Ah!

Note from Red: MC then proceeds to black out in typical otome heroine fashion… but let’s cut her some slack she was cool here T^T

I drift in the darkness, countless strange dreams blending together and surfacing before my eyes. One moment it’s the leering grin of the bandits, the next it’s the cawing of the skeletal birds I saw earlier. But the final thing is the long, piercing cry I heard in the forest.

When my eyes blink open, I find myself in an unfamiliar room.

It’s a perfectly normal looking bedroom, and the sheets under me are fresh and clean. Somewhere, I can hear the sounds of a vendor selling his goods and the voices of kids peddling flowers drifting in from outside the window.

Everything is so peaceful, it’s as if everything I experienced before has just been nothing but a dream.

MC: Where exactly am I…

Mystery Man: You finally decided to wake up.

A young man dressed in purple appears at the door in the blink of an eye. Startled, I sit up as fast as possible in shock.

MC: Who are you!?

At my question, he leans against the doorframe casually, and after seeing my expression, the corner of his lips turn up in a smirk.

Mystery Man: What are you being so on edge for? I’m the benefactor who saved your life, you know.

MC: What benefactor, I clearly saw you on that lake earlier…

Mystery Man: You’ve had some entertaining dreams.

Note from Red: o k a y shaw

MC: Huh?

Mystery Man: You, little lady, fainted in the wilderness in the nearby mountains. If I hadn’t just happened to be passing by and decided to do a good deed, there’s no guarantee you wouldn’t have been eaten up by a demon.

What he’s saying doesn’t match up with what I remember, but the way he speaks so smoothly with absolute confidence makes it hard for me to doubt his words, and for a moment I question my own memories.

Could the glowing primroses I saw by the lake… and the skeletal birds… all been some sort of strange dream?

Mystery Man: It seems like you’ve slept yourself silly.

The young man runs a hand through his hair before straightening up once more, and I watch as he steps towards me until he’s right next to the bed, bending down to look at me more clearly.

His golden eyes flash with sly amusement.

Mystery Man: Since you’re awake, remember this clearly: you’re on my territory.

Mystery Man: The name’s Shaw, and I’m your benefactor.

Mystery Man: As for what you should do now, you should carefully think… about just how you’re going to repay me for saving your life.

Carrying a bucket filled with water, I stagger into the garden, out of breath.

The only other person in the garden is currently lounging next to a flower bed, legs casually swinging back and forth, the picture of idleness.

MC: May. I. Please. Ask. If. Sir. Benefactor. Has. Any. Other. Instructions.

Since the day I woke, in return for Shaw safely bringing me out of the mountain, I agreed to run errands for him for seven days. Today is already the seventh day.

Upon seeing me puffing and panting, his brow lifts in an amused arch.

Shaw: Hmm, go water those flowers over there while you’re at it, then.

MC: Shaw, don’t take your bullying too far!

Shaw: How am I bullying you? Weren’t you the one who said that you wanted to repay me by running errands? Or perhaps you want to do it by offering your body instead?

Trivia from Red: ‘Offering your body’ is translated from the Chinese idiom 以身相许, which means 1) pledge to marry or 2) have sex with a man of her own will.

I stare at him in horrified shock for a moment, face burning red from embarrassment. Grabbing the gourd dipper, I scoop up a full ladle of water and fling it at him with all my might.

Shaw ducks out of the way at lightning speed, and the spray of water splashes onto the flowerbed he had been lounging next to earlier, catching the light of the afternoon sun and forming a rainbow. Shaw’s laughter rings out clearly.

Shaw: I asked you to water the flowers, not water people. Or is your eyesight so bad you can’t tell a human clearly from a flowerbed?

MC: ...You!

These last few days, whenever we’ve had banters like this, I’ve never won even once. Determined not to fall into the same trap again, I ignore his words and instead ask a question.

MC: The seven days are almost up. Can I leave tomorrow?

Shaw’s smile turns teasing.

Shaw: Your house is opposite this mountain, isn’t it? Are you sure you won’t faint halfway on your journey back again?

MC: I definitely won’t!

Upon seeing my determined face, Shaw grins, opening his mouth to say something again. All of a sudden, however, the smile fades from his face.

MC: What’s the matter?

Shaw: Nothing’s up, I’m just heading out for a moment.

Shaw: If you want to go home, I’m not stopping you.

Shaw: But you’re not allowed to leave tomorrow. Stay put in my house, don’t take a step out of the compound.

MC: Why not?

Shaw doesn’t reply my question, and with a few strides of his long legs, he’s vanished from the garden.

MC: Shaw, wait a moment, you haven’t explained yourself-

MC: He’s gone?

This isn’t the first time he’s simply disappeared like this. With a shake of the head, I shrug off his warning. Besides, after tomorrow, I’ll have repaid my debt to him in full, and we’ll have nothing more to do with each other.

On the morning of the next day, Shaw still hasn’t returned.

I chew on my lip, looking at the doors for the seventh time, slightly hesitant to leave without bidding him goodbye.

MC: Well, it’s not like that rascal is going to bother about it anyway…

Trivia from Red: MC quite constantly refers to Shaw as 那家伙, which is a casual way of referring to a mischievous, rascally guy, and can be interpreted as ‘that guy’, or ‘that little punk’.

Even though I say those words, I find my footsteps slowing on the way out of the front courtyard.

MC: Perhaps I should leave him a letter.

I write him a letter and leave it on his table. Just when I’m about to leave, a painting hanging on the wall catches my eye.

MC: This is…

Taking a step closer to look at it more clearly, I realise that it’s a mythical beast that I’ve never seen before.

On the beast’s lower back are five tails, and on its forehead is a single horn. Just from the painting, I can sense a strong aura of pride and arrogance.

MC: This painting… it kind of resembles that guy.

Curiously, I reach out and touch a corner of the painting. All of a sudden, however, the sound of thunder rumbles outside the window.

I look out of the window, and am surprised to see that the sky, that was sunny just moments ago, is now blanketed with thick grey clouds, looking like it’s about to start pouring anytime soon.

MC: If I don’t leave now, it’ll be bad if I’m caught in the rain.

I fasten my cloak, pick up an umbrella and leave Shaw’s house.

Even thought it’s well into the afternoon, the little town is completely covered in a thick fog, as if it has been completely blanketed by a layer of grey. The little river that runs through the town has little lotus lamps dotting the surface, all of them floating along silently.

Just as I’m about to leave the little town, my mind gradually begins to calm.

MC: This feels a little strange…

The town that Shaw resides in might not have too many people, but on a normal day, it would usually be bustling with activity, the smell of firework smoke in the air.

Yet today, there isn’t a single person on the streets.

Note from Red: gee, i wonder why, mc-

The further I go from Shaw’s house, the faster the sky seems to darken and unease wells up in my heart.

MC: Maybe I should go back and wait for him…

[thunder rumbles]

The clouds seem to descend, and the sky darkens even further. I don’t know whether it’s just my imagination, but the mist seems to suffuse and thicken in the tunnel before me, and I can see the outline of dark shapes moving about inside.

Before I can look more closely at them, there’s a sound behind me, and I turn around. The moment I do, I can’t help but feel shock race through me.

It’s the skeletal bird I saw that night on the mountain!

The bird hops onto the side of the bridge, cocking its head at me. When it opens its beak to speak, what comes out isn’t the shrill squawk of a bird, but the familiar cool and clear voice of a man.

Bird!Shaw: Finally found you… what are you doing here?

MC: Shaw!?

MC: How are you… this bird is-

In typical Shaw fashion, the bird does not answer my question. Instead, it turns its head to look at the tunnel, and lets out a clicking sound even though it doesn’t have a tongue to do so.

Bird!Shaw: Come with me.

With that, it flies to me, taking my sleeve between its beak and tugging me in the opposite direction. Being pulled along into a run with it, all my words come out garbled.

MC: Wait a moment… What, what exactly is going on? Just now, what was that? And you, what are you?

Bird!Shaw: You have so many questions.

MC: It’s not me who has too many questions! It’s just that you’ve hidden too much from me!

Bird!Shaw: ……

Bird!Shaw: It’s the Ghost Festival today.

MC: Ghost Festival… Hungry Ghost Festival!?

Trivia from Red: The Ghost Festival, also known as the Hungry Ghost Festival, is a traditional Buddhist and Taoist festival held in certain East Asian countries. According to the Chinese calendar (a lunisolar calendar), the Ghost Festival is on the 15th night of the seventh month.

In Chinese culture, the fifteenth day of the seventh month in the lunar calendar is called Ghost Day and the seventh month in general is regarded as the Ghost Month (鬼月), in which ghosts and spirits, including those of deceased ancestors, come out from the lower realm. The deceased are believed to visit the living as the realms of Heaven and Hell and the realm of the living are open and both Taoists and Buddhists would perform rituals to transmute and absolve the sufferings of the deceased.

Bird!Shaw: That's right. This is when the nine yin converges, and evil grows easily. It is the day when the Ghost Gate opens, and evil and living souls intersect. It will be more troublesome than a typical day.

Bird!Shaw: I distinctly remember telling you to stay put in my house, who would have thought you’d actually dare to leave and make trouble for me.

As the bird says this, it turns back to eye me. Even though it has no eyes, I can clearly see the words ‘annoyance’ written in its eye sockets.

At that moment, a feeling of unhappiness washes over me, and I can’t help but open my mouth to speak.

MC: All these things… you could have just told me earlier. You made me wait for you for the entirety of yesterday… without so much as an explanation.

MC: Shaw, am I really not worthy of your trust? Am I a burden to you?

The bird stops fluttering its wings for a second before it turns its head, not saying another word.

For a moment, I wonder if Shaw is angry with what I said, but after a while, a small snort of laughter leaves the bird’s mouth, ringing in my ears.

The sound is so clean and clear, it seems like Shaw is standing right next to me.

Bird!Shaw: I don’t think of you as a burden.

Bird!Shaw: I can tell you my true identity, it’s just that at that moment, you can’t be afraid and you’re not allowed to regret it.

MC: I won’t be scared, and I wouldn’t regret it.

Bird!Shaw: Then follow me closely.

The clouds close in on us, and the first drops of rain begin to fall.

It’s going to rain.

I follow after the bird closely, and each time, I narrowly manage to escape every encounter with a dark shape. Just as we’re about to leave the small town, however, it’s as if all the spirits suddenly sense me, and they all turn and start rushing towards me!

Bird!Shaw: Don’t bother about them! Just run towards the exit of the town!

The second it finishes those words, it lets out a caw. As if rallied, a hundred of the skeletal birds suddenly fly over from behind the wall. Like arrows loosed from a bow, they descend on the mass of black spirits and attack them with their sharp beaks and wings, keeping them tightly packed together.

But there is a limit to the number of birds, and the pitch black spirits can’t be stopped.

Understanding that the birds can’t buy me all the time in the world, I grit my teeth and run as hard as I can for the exit of the town.

Even before I can take two steps, pain runs up my leg, as if I’m being yanked back by something. I fall painfully to the ground.

Withstanding the pain, I look down to see a skeletal person grabbing tight onto my ankle, refusing to let go!

No matter how hard I struggle, the person refuses to let go, and only holds on tighter and tighter. Watching the rest of the dark shapes slowly approaching, I yank out something I have tucked in my waist, and bring it down as hard as I can on the person.

Shiing!

A loud wail rings through the air, but the grip loosens enough for me to pry it off. Looking down in my hand, I clasp the dagger that had saved me seven days ago, I’ve never let it leave me even once.

But in the time it took for me to do all that, it’s too late for me to escape the town.

I grip the dagger tight.

The dark shapes draw closer, before they finally rush at me ferociously.

[thunder rumbles intensely]

Thunder rumbles throughout the sky, like the beating of a thousand drums, the galloping of a hundred thousand horses, unceasing. In that second, hundreds of white hot lightning bolts flash through the air before me, bathing the entire sky in bright white light.

Note from Red: that can’t be good for your eyes...

A large hand covers my eyes from behind.

Note from Red: who needs sunglasses when we have shaw’s big hands T^T

Shaw: You idiot, why are you just standing there for? Do you want to keep your eyes or not?

His tone is teasing and lighthearted, but it makes me feel safer than any promise or vow in the world.

MC: Shaw…

Shaw: I didn’t think you’d be able to save yourself, not bad.

Shaw: No wonder I-

The rest of his words are cut off by the rumble of thunder, the flash of lightning. I feel raindrops land pitter patter on my nose and cheeks.

In order to let me hear his words clearly, he leans down and puts his lips right next to my ear when he speaks, breath hot against the shell of my ear.

Shaw: Turn around, open up your umbrella and count to ten in your head before you open your eyes. Got it?

I nod with all my strength.

Shaw releases me and I obey his instructions, opening the umbrella and beginning to count.

MC: One, two, three…

The strikingly familiar cry I heard that night in the forest rings out from behind me, leaving yet another deep impression in my heart.

MC: Four, five, six…

The rain slows to a gentle drizzle, and the oppressive air hanging over the town seems to be slowly fading.

MC: Seven, eight, nine…

Shaw… Shaw…

MC: Ten.

I turn around.

Within the bright flashes of light, I catch sight of a silhouette of the five tailed mythical beast.

Evil spirits dealt with and the dark clouds gone, it seems like the town has finally gone back to normal.

Because I injured my foot, Shaw takes me to a small boat, and the two of us drift along slowly on the river. As the boat is slowly carried along beneath a bridge, Shaw, who is lazily sitting at the front, plucks a flower from the side to play with.

The lotus lamps bobbing alongside us glow softly, and what was initially supposed to be a gloomy Hungry Ghost Festival resembles more of a pleasant evening of a wedding night.

Shaw’s purple robes flutter in the wind, and under the light of the lamps hanging from the boat, the horn on his forehead seems to be softened with a soft glow.

The scenery before me reminds me of the time we first met on the lake back in that forest, the only differences being that he’s now missing a few birds, and that I am here with him.

MC: Right, why haven’t I seen any of the other town residents today?

Shaw: You think everyone is like you? I already warned them beforehand not to leave their houses, it’d make way for the souls and I can do what I need to do.

MC: Hahahaha…

Shaw: What are you laughing about?

MC: I’m laughing at you - with that image and disposition, who would have guessed that you’re actually a great immortal?

After hearing my words, Shaw lifts an eyebrow, looking slightly miffed.

Shaw: Then what did you think I was, a monster?

MC: I think that you’re Shaw, that’s all.

Shaw stares blankly at me for a moment.

MC: Shaw, on the day of Qixi, when you brought me out of the mountain, was it you who rescued me from those bandits as well?

Even though my words are phrased as a question, my tone is sure and certain. There’s a flash of surprise in Shaw’s eyes, but he doesn’t reply. He casts his eyes downwards, manner insipid.

Shaw: That isn’t a good memory to have for the Qixi Festival. Just forget it.

MC: I won’t forget it.

What he says is true. The Qixi festival is deserving of good and happy memories, and being by bandits certainly isn’t that, but still…

I look earnestly at Shaw.

MC: But on that day, you also appeared.

All around us, the lotus lamps flicker softly in the night, jade green smoke curling up faintly, the cool sounds of running water in my ears.

MC: I feel like this is the most memorable, and also the most treasured Qixi I have ever experienced.

This world’s thousands of relationships cannot be clearly defined by these dates, but on this Ghost Festival, my heart soars more than it did on the day of the Qixi Festival.

Shaw watches me silently, before he puts down the flower in his hand and leans forward, closer to me.

His hands carry with them the body temperature of one that is not human, fingertips lifting up my bangs once again.

Inch by inch, his finger trails down, as if mapping out my face.

His golden eyes are locked firmly on me, gaze intense and captivating like that of a wild beast, not letting my eyes deviate from him in the least.

This time, I don’t shy away from him.

Shaw: The last time, didn’t you ask for my true self?

Shaw: I’m Zheng, and I consume evil energy as sustenance.

Shaw: I’ve never felt like I’ve done this to help humans, and I’ve never considered myself to be an auspicious sign like the legends say.

Shaw: When I’m hungry, I eat.

Suddenly, my hand is grasped tightly in his, and he lifts it to his mouth.

He bites down slowly on my index finger, sharpened teeth scraping over delicate skin, and slight pain radiates out from where his lips are wrapped around my fingertip.

Shaw: Even if that’s what I am, you’re not going to be afraid of me?

Even though he’s clearly giving off a sense of hidden danger and his words are meant to provoke me into giving him a response, my heart skips a beat at the smile on his face.

MC: I…

Shaw: I… what? Speak louder.

With a self satisfied smirk that looks reminiscent of a cat that got the canary, he nips on my finger again.

MC: I said, I won’t be-

Before the word ‘scared’ can leave my mouth, my finger suddenly slips free of Shaw’s mouth to land on his lower lip. My fingertip softly runs against his lips, breath warm and eyes shining.

It’s clearly… a kiss.

Note from Red: yes mc you get flustered NOW when your finger was on his lips but not when he was literally biting on it priorities on point we stan

In a moment, my entire face burns bright red and I hurriedly pull back my finger.

MC: Shaw!

Shaw grins at me as he releases my hand, his gaze on me filled with an emotion I can’t quite recognise. Having fallen for his tricks yet again, my heart races and I desperately look for something to say, but didn’t expect that Shaw would beat me to it.

Shaw: Shouldn’t you be heading home?

The second he says that, I’m reminded of my original purpose: to bid my farewells to him before leaving for home.

I nod at him for a moment, before I shake my head energetically.

MC: Shaw, I…

Shaw: But today, haven’t I saved you once again?

MC: ...Eh?

Shaw: The timing’s just right. I’ve polished off all the evil energies and spirits here completely, it’s time for a change in scenery.

Shaw: The town near your home… is there anything entertaining?

He speaks so quickly that I have no time to think.

MC: Entertaining… well, not really, but there’s a lot of good food there! Recently it’s been chestnut and lotus seed season, so there should be a lot of confections sold on the streets…

MC: Wait a second, you’re not thinking of following me home, are you?

Shaw: Of course I am. How else are you going to repay this huge favour you owe me for saving you?

His words are bold and upright, but the grin on his face is that of a satisfied hunter.

Shaw: Before you fully repay the favour… don’t even think about escaping from me.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc shaw #redqueenschoice translated this

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calpops · 4 years

Text

falling facade | c.h.

part six: falling feelings

part one: falling flowers | part two: falling freedom | part three: falling fears | part four: falling failures | part five: falling fame

5k words

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“What’s this?”

Calum’s attention swiftly turned from cleaning his house and getting it ready for his parents arrival to Arden. She stood in the kitchen, facing the fridge with a timid hand outreached to the door. He knew exactly what caught her attention and prompted the question. He bit back a smirk as he left the throw blanket he was folding in favor of sidling up to her, hip pressing into the cabinets and a nonchalant hand finding the cool marble of the countertops. Her fingers lingered on familiar paper and she turned to face him with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your own work,” Calum teased and let his smirk come back full force.

She let out a small giggle through her interrogation and shook her head. “Okay wise guy. Why is it on display on your fridge door?”

The paper placemat Arden had quickly drawn Calum in in red crayon and sharp lines laid under a magnet on the face of his fridge. He had fished it out of his wallet the night before, not having forgotten it in the folds but keeping it around in an attempt to remind himself of what was real. Their time at the diner was the first of many escapes. It was a comfort to know something honest and authentic stayed with him when he was forced to lie through his teeth; to fabricate stories during interviews, to pose for social media and paparazzi. It was of him and drawn by her in a moment that no one else got to share. It was theirs and theirs alone.

“Because I’m still waiting for a painting to put on the wall. I thought that’d be a good place holder and reminder,” he said and shot a pointed look at the blank living room wall; the empty space above the fireplace begging for life of lively colors and loose waves created by Arden’s hands. It was front and center. A place Calum would be able to see it from almost any position in the living area of his home. He continued in a teasing tone, “you should really get to it.”

Their conversation on the beach about the Clifford house hallway once being lined with Arden’s art only to be replaced by band accolades hadn’t escaped Calum. His request of a painting reminiscent of sunset on the beach wouldn’t go forgotten or be replaced. Arden nodded, the motion was slow and her gaze was indecisive, fingers abandoning the placemat to curl at her sides. A forced shrug lifted her shoulders.

“You know painting is just a hobby for me, right? They’re nothing special,” she said, her voice became meek and her eyes averted his gaze.

Calum was picking up on subtle queues. Her usual ability to hold eye contact faltered when anything about her life was in question. The strength of her words felt weak and weary as if there was a weight crushing her; taking away her usual eloquent articulation and animation. Calum eyed her for a moment, took a peek at the drawing on the fridge and turned back to her.

“Just a hobby,” he replied to the first half of her statement. “That you enjoy and are really good at.”

She smirked, finally looked directly at him once more and raised an eyebrow in challenge. “I also enjoy dancing while I clean and singing in the shower but I assure you I have no rhythm and am not the Clifford sibling blessed with vocal abilities. Sometimes we just do things; whether we’re good at them or not.”

Calum didn’t know if he had the ability to challenge her further, to push her and make the strength in her voice falter again. So he changed the subject and took her mind away from replaced paintings and feelings of inadequacy and back to lighthearted teasing tones that lifted weight off the reality they were living. Just like moments in the car where their situation became a joke, Calum changed gears in hopes it would make her smile and quip back at him.

“So you won’t be singing at our wedding then,” he said with an over dramatic sigh and side eye; found that his plan rewarded him with a smile and a laugh.

“No, I’ll save that for you,” she replied and twisted the ring that Calum was becoming accustomed to seeing on her finger. The diamond was still much too gaudy and unlike her but it felt familiar and Calum was unable to picture her without it. “If you’re lucky maybe I’ll show you my dancing on our honeymoon.”

Now Calum’s cheeks were warm and tinting with a blush that spoke of the implications her words held; watched as she skipped away from him with a sarcastic laugh following her to the living room where she finished folding the abandoned throw blanket. Calum didn’t have a comeback or rebuttal though his thoughts were filled and alarm bells tried their best to ring through the haze. He shook himself, tried to blow those thoughts away and nearly jumped at the sudden knock on the door. For a moment he feared it was their parents arriving early, interrupting their plan to work out what details they would and would not share with them during their suspected inquisition. But he rationalized and realized it was Michael, he was to arrive early to be in on the details. He wasn’t sure if Michael’s arrival was better or worse.

***

Calum’s arm found its way around Arden’s shoulder in an all too natural sense. It fit a little too perfectly, was a little too easy and normal. Eyes were on them, parents and siblings; eyes that questioned and eyes that knew but had inklings of wonder clouding them. Michael had agreed to keep up the charade though he made a point that he wouldn’t like it and they both owed him big time. Calum’s arm around Arden was all part of the act but Calum could tell Michael was pondering why it was so easy for them to pull off. He could also see the doubt in his sister’s frown and hoped the panic wasn’t so clearly written on his face. He knew he wasn’t standing with his usual confidence, posture a bit slumped and weight bearing into the cabinet behind him. But Arden eased into his side and loosely held his hand; helped to settle the nerves that simmered and sparked with their families arrival.

“What’s this?” His sister Mali asked, repeating Arden’s earlier words verbatim, touching the same place mat secured to the fridge in the same exact way.

A small grin captured the corners of Calum’s mouth. There were a lot of things he felt he wasn’t prepared to answer or could have thought out more, but Arden’s art wasn’t among them. He knew exactly what to say.

“Arden drew it. On our first date,” he offered and felt the shift of Arden moving to look up at him.

“First date?” She wondered aloud, eyes meeting and holding gazes as she arched her eyebrow in question and amusement.

“At the diner,” Calum began and blew out a breath, hand gliding down her arm as he got lost in the role; caught up in a new game where control really did land in their own hands. He offered truths veiled with something more and something less. He shifted his gaze back to Mali who was eyeing them both; sizing them and their story up. “She told me to sit still and hid it from me until it was done. I’m keeping it up until she gives me a real painting.”

Mali nodded but her eyes squinted and lips pursed for a moment. She took a few seconds to accept the truth and offer a smile before wandering off in search of Duke; past their parents congregated in the dining area. Calum let out a deep breath, all the nerves that felt on the edge of exploding calmed at his sister’s acceptance. Neither Calum or Arden moved from their position, his arm still held her close and her hand didn’t drop from its hold. If asked by Michael later it would be out of necessity. If Calum was honest with himself it’d be a source of comfort.

“Here I thought our first date was the wedding,” Arden whispered, nose twitching as she blushed a timid pink. She stayed quiet so no one else could hear her words but her eyes were wide and told Calum truths no one else would understand. “Your way we got engaged before we even started dating.”

She let out a small giggle and the sound was enough to collide with Calum’s nerves and make the slight alteration of the truth come to life and feel real. Maybe their first date was the wedding, maybe it was an escape in a run down diner, maybe it was a night under the stars during a dying party where inhibitions roamed free. Maybe they hadn’t been on a date at all. What Calum knew was whether the scenarios were real or fake there was something building within him that he couldn’t control or deny.

“We didn’t need to date before we got engaged,” Calum whispered back, eyes averting to the dining room for a split second to ensure their privacy. Their parents still lingered and made small talk; Michael did his best to act as the host. “It was love at first sight, right?”

Arden shook her head, tendrils of hair fell into her face that Calum felt comfortable enough to push back behind her ear this time. She bit her lip and pushed away from the counter their backs were pressed against; Calum worrying for a moment she was also pushing away from him, but she stayed under his arm and her hand firmly held his.

“I’ve known you most my life. I don’t think we fell in love when we were six.”

“Love at second first sight then,” he amended with a laugh; wondering if there might be some validity to that statement.

During their time in the face of the facade Calum often found himself thinking of the first night he had seen Arden again. The house party was ingrained in his memory and the subtleties of her under moonlight stayed with him in vivid flashes and familiar words. He hadn’t known it upon second first sight, not in that split second when their eyes met across the yard and she offered a recognized head nod, but it started to become apparent with backs pressed to the siding, drinks gone empty and pouty lips begging for a favor.

Calum let Arden lead him into the dining area where they were met with an unexpected outcome. Mali’s slight doubt and questioning was drowned out by the belief of their parents. The stories they fed them seemed to win them over; made them excited at the prospect of their children finding each other and falling in love. Though it was quick and unprecedented—with phone calls and circumstances that felt nothing short of suspicious—their parents were blinded by what they assumed was their children’s happiness. Happy. Proud. Excited. All of those words floated around them in a barrage of parental chatter. Calum felt the shift in Arden before he saw it; the way she stiffened against his side, her hold loosening on his hand and the shift of weight from one foot to the other and back again in a rhythmic sway of uncertainty. He wondered if it was anxiety, if the situation wasn’t okay, if there was underlying guilt brimming to the surface.

They made it through dinner, most of the time was spent in a haze that passed over Calum’s thoughts as he drifted from checking the rigid posture that captured Arden and the beaming smiles that their parents graced them with. Every intone of excitement, every near teary eyed admission of pride and pitch of happiness in their voices had Arden lurching. It was minimal and went past the others but Calum caught the subtleties; the slight twitch of her arm or the purse of her lips, the downcast gazes of shiny eyes. His own nerves had calmed but he worried for Arden. It was her want to keep up the charade but he had to wonder if her mind was changing and what that meant for the rest of the visit.

It wasn’t until after dinner when the dishes were done and everyone had split up into smaller groups that Calum sensed something was completely amiss. Arden was in the living room with Mali and her mom—he’d heard her voice just moments ago—but when he rounded the corner she was gone. Before he could ask, before he could even form the thought to ask, Mali was answering for him.

“She took Duke out,” Mali said as she stood and gestured to the sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard. Calum was quick to head over but his sister stopped him short with a low murmur and hand on his wrist. “I know management has a hand in this.”

Calum knew his surprise showed; jaw slackening and an air of disbelief leaving him at the unexpected cornering. Mali could read Calum like a book and they’d never been ones to keep secrets. She was a bit more comfortable reaching and pushing for answers than Calum was but knew when to let up. Her touch fell and she nodded out the door.

“But I know you’re doing what you think is best.”

Calum swallowed down a lump in his throat and exited the house with Mali’s parting words ringing through his mind. The yard was empty, the sun was setting low on the horizon and casting glimmering specks of light against the water in the pool. It reminded him of the sunset dancing along the beach. Of Arden in the water and his towel. Of moments that were too real to be part of the farce. She was nowhere in sight and the usual jingle of the tags on Duke's collar couldn’t be heard. He figured she must have gone to the front yard or up the street to give the old dog a good stretch and walk after dinner. He rounded the side of the house and stopped short. She sat in a familiar position; back pressed to the siding and face turned to the sky. Duke was settled in her lap and nosing his concern into her stomach. Her hands slowly pet him and Calum came to see the glint of a fallen tear tracking down her cheek.

“Arden,” he said her name softly, his own worries etched into his voice. He didn’t want to startle her but she turned to him quickly and wiped at the tear, tried to pretend it wasn’t there or that he hadn’t seen it. She was making to get up but Calum settled down beside her and she stilled. “What’s going on?”

She sighed and he heard the brokenness of her breath. The fracture between the inhale and exhale. “Pretending is just a lot harder than I thought.”

Calum’s chest tightened and his fingers curled into his palms at her response. Her voice was shaky and her hazel eyes were distant. He didn’t understand what she meant. It all seemed to be going well—their parents weren’t as probing as they thought they’d be, they weren’t disappointed in their rash decision or the way they painted the engagement; with glints of the truth and softened edges of drunken escapades.

“Why? They’re all okay with it. Happy even,” Calum offered in an attempt to soothe whatever was bothering her.

Pretending for their parents had been her idea; a request so as not to disappoint her parents with a drunken story and fake relationship. They curated pieces of the truth together and kept to their guns. It was working. But she was cracking and Calum didn’t know why.

“Did you hear them?” She asked and shook her head as Duke nuzzled in even closer, feeling her distress and wanting to offer comfort as well. “They said they’re happy… and proud. The only thing they can be proud of me for is something that’s not even real.”

Calum blanched at that statement. He felt the wind knock out of him and suddenly all the subtleties of Arden at the table began to make sense. It was his turn to shake his head, not able to grasp why she would feel that way. But the shine of her eyes and the bite of her lip spoke volumes of the sorrows she was feeling.

“They didn’t say that’s all they have to be proud of,” Calum reasoned, knowing her parents and the love and pride they had for both of their children and all of their accomplishments.

“I know,” she seemingly agreed and let out another breath. “But they didn’t say they were proud of anything else. Because there’s nothing else.”

“That’s not true,” Calum denied and knew he shouldn’t tell her her feelings were wrong or invalid but they sounded like intrusive thoughts and self doubt; something he’d struggled with himself and would’ve liked to have someone to put them into a new perspective. “You went to university, you travelled, made amazing art—there’s plenty more than us for them to be proud of.”

Arden didn’t say anything for a moment, content to take comfort in the affection Duke was showing her. Calum saw the wavering of her jaw and contemplation cut across her face. She took another few seconds to pull her thoughts together before turning to look him full on, familiar eye contact bringing her fully back to him. He preferred when their gazes didn’t break—liked the strength he could find in hazel even when the subject was delicate and breakable.

“Michael never told you why I really came to visit, did he?” She inquired and Calum realized he hadn’t even asked.

He was too caught up in getting to know her and playing the game that he forgot it all started with a visit. He forgot she had been dodgy in answering that first night at the party. He was sure there was more reasoning than missing Michael for her sudden appearance in a place she so vehemently avoided and seemingly despised.

“No,” Calum answered. “I didn’t ask either. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

Her shoulders slumped as if the weight of the story was bearing down on her at the prospect of telling the truth. Eye contact was steady as she opened up and revealed pieces of her past Calum had only been left to wonder about.

“I was supposed to be figuring things out here. Trying to get my life together and make decisions. Michael was trying to help.”

Calum nodded his understanding. There was a time when he had decisions he needed to make too; two paths unwound at the same time and no right or wrong answer had seemingly been in sight. He’d done the same, sought out his family and then listened to what was inside of him. It took time and then it was sudden, the band was the path he followed and it was a choice he had never regretted. He wanted Arden to follow a path like that too, to wherever she was seeking and find whatever she wanted in life.

“I get it. I know how difficult that can be,” he said and watched as a look of disbelief cut across her features and settled in the way she stared blankly back at him.

“How would you know?” She asked and though the question may have seemed accusatory or like he could never understand, her tone verged on begging to know if he really did and how it was possible. “You had the band. Isn’t that what you always wanted? Didn’t you just… know?”

Calum let out a small and almost sarcastic laugh and quieted when he realized Arden was serious. He realized she didn’t know the choices he faced. They weren’t exactly close during their teenage years; the formation and come up of the band had divided their worlds even more so. It was hard to think of those times, after the weeks Calum had spent with her and all the bits and pieces of their pasts coming back it pained him to think they had been so close yet so very distant from each other for years.

“I had the band and I had football. I had to choose,” he explained and caught her attention as he noted the arch of her eyebrow and the stall of her hand petting Duke.

“But you had options,” she mumbled. “Either would have been something to be proud of.”

“Neither had that certainty, the band might not have succeeded, my football career could have burnt out before it really began. I had to make a choice and then I had to take a chance.”

A breeze passed between them as Arden contemplated his honesty. The situations weren’t carbon copies of each other but they were similar enough Calum felt empathy rattling his ribcage and putting a pang of pain through his heart. The crumple of her face and the stray tear she didn’t bother to brush away left Calum breathless and wanting to reach out. He was hyper aware of everything; their parents in the house, Michael, alarm bells ringing so clearly in his mind, but drowned them out in favor of following his initial instinct. The pad of his thumb was gentle across her cheek, she didn’t say anything, didn’t flinch or question the action. His hand and heart fell as she slightly pulled away and abandoned his gaze to stare up at the night sky. She shifted and settled, sighed once more and geared up to voice her thoughts and struggles by sinking into the comfort Duke provided.

“I wish I had something more solid, something I want. All I have is half a degree and no fucking idea what I want to do with my life. I dropped out of university and travelled to ‘find myself’ but really just ran away. I have nothing that I’m good at.”

Calum was about to interject and remind her of paintings that once hung in the hallway and a place mat posted on the fridge. Her hand finding its way to his knee stopped the words from coming out and he had to wonder if that was her intention. One breath and it was gone.

“At least, nothing that I’m so passionate about that I know it’s what I want,” she said in one fell swoop and surprised Calum. “I don’t have a dream that I'm chasing. If anything I’m only trying to move out of someone’s shadow and doing a bang up job of it. Now I’m caught behind two and stuck in lies that will never end. That’s nothing to be proud of.”

Calum’s throat tightened at the unexpected honesty and turn the night had taken. Only minutes before they were surrounded by family and mindless small talk—or so Calum thought. It was about the engagement and the band and in that moment Calum realized anything to do with Arden outside of their situation hadn’t been brought up. He couldn’t imagine feeling casted into the shadows. His heart ached for her and the struggles she felt she was facing alone.

“I’m sorry for asking you to pretend with our families,” she added, head shaking slightly. “That wasn’t fair. I should just toughen up and tell them the truth. And don’t worry, I’ll tell them it’s my fault and I asked you to go along with it. You shouldn’t have to take the fall for my lies.”

She made to move as if to get up but Calum was quick to stop her; just a light touch and slight shift stalling her intent and bringing them closer. Duke was in her arms but found his way to the ground and stalked off back into the house. A belated moment and skipped heart beat gathered courage for Calum and helped words come out that he had been thinking for weeks. Words that settled in the back of his throat and burned sugary sweet.

“What if it’s not all pretend?”

“What?” Arden was quick to respond and panic—the fear that captured her eyes was unsettling. “Calum, what do you mean?”

She was poised and waiting for his answer as his mind went into chaos. He wasn’t sure he was ready to face everything that came with his own truth but the words came out too soon to stop them. His thoughts were tangled now, fleeting visions of real moments dancing around his mind.

“That we’ve been real… with each other. All those moments away from it all. Those were real. Weren’t they?”

They were real to him—and so were the feelings that followed and defined those moments. The alarm bells rang in full force as she tilted her head and the minimal distance between them felt craterous and minuscule all at once. Peaches invaded his senses and the taste of sugar was just a breath away but it was blown away by approaching footsteps. Arden moved away on instinct and Calum wondered if alarm bells rang in her mind as well. She settled back on the grass just in time for Michael to round the corner and come into view with his arms crossed and a ghost of a smirk disappearing from his face. Calum and Arden both looked up at him in silence and waited for him to speak first.

“Everyone was wondering where you guys wandered off to,” he began and then shot a pointed look at his sister. “Mum and Joy are talking about wedding dresses. Told them I’d find you, they thought you wouldn’t want to miss it.”

“Right, thanks for the heads up,” Arden said around a sigh and began to stand.

She shot Calum a glance as Michael began to lead her back to the house. Calum was quick to get up and follow her into the conversation of possible bridal styles and centerpieces. Duke had found his way to his usual perch on the couch and perked up when Calum and Arden walked in. Calum took up Arden’s side as she broke into the discussion by clearing her throat to announce her presence. The mothers turned to look at her; eyes alight with wedding wonder and idle chit chat being broken.

“I don’t know how to say this,” Arden began and Calum’s stomach sank as he realized the truth was verging on her lips. His hand reached out for hers, in solidarity, to show that he would stand beside her no matter what she decided. They could weather the storm better together than stranded and alone. “But Calum and I aren’t getting married.”

Instant regret flooded Arden’s eyes as the room fell silent and shock hung thick within the air. She tensed against his side and turned to look at him with a pleading expression that Calum could only interpret as reversing the statement and making the visible disappointment and heartache vanish from the room. He hoped it was what she wanted.

“Not yet, anyway. We rushed the engagement, clearly. We don’t want to rush the wedding too. We want to enjoy some time together without the pressure of planning. We’ll let you guys know when we’re ready for that,” Calum jumped in smoothly as he watched the panic disperse from Arden’s eyes and felt the appreciative squeeze of his hand—a signal and a thank you that reassured him his hope was correct.

Everyone simmered at his explanation; they called Arden’s statement complete theatrics and not a funny joke though they were laughing, Calum guessed it was more so in relief than in good jest. Michael was the only one who didn’t wear a reaction so clearly on his face, just an arch of a questioning eyebrow at the initial honesty of Arden he hadn’t been privy to. Calum knew some explaining to Michael was due—and that Mali wouldn’t be so easily satiated with the on the fly explanation he had come up with.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur of nerves that kept both Calum and Arden on their toes. They tried their bests to remember the odds and ends of what had already been said. Mali pulled Calum aside for a moment as the night was dying down and a bite of fear coursed through him as he knew her suspicions were sharp and came with merit.

“I still don’t know what’s really going on,” she began and offered a sympathetic smile that helped to calm his nerves. “But I can tell there’s something real there. Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to see either of you ending up hurt. Especially not by each other.”

Calum took her words for all they were worth but only slightly nodded to show he had been listening. He still couldn’t manage to give her the answers she was seeking but the nod acted as much more than a method to show he was listening. He understood. He confirmed. He agreed. The last thing he wanted was for this entire situation to end with hurting hearts.

The hole of lies and half truths they were falling into was being dug deeper and deeper; no landing was in sight. He swept the room as everyone prepared to leave or settle in for the night and his stare landed back on Arden who hadn’t peeled her eyes away from him since his saving moment. It took one look to realize that falling was okay, as long as it was with her. As long as it was real. Calum had started to speak his truth to her and now he could only hope that all of the falling feelings that consumed him were somewhere within her as well.

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avionvadion · 3 years

Text

I’m making progress you guys I swear 😭 Here’s some little snippets.

Inuyasha: Forest Deep: Chapter 24 Preview (WIP)

“I’m not sure.” Shippō stated, furrowing his brows. He pat Kirara on the neck. “Do you smell ‘em anywhere?”

She opened her mouth and let out a tiny roar of what I could only assume was confirmation, because she eventually made her way to the front of the hut and then pushed her way passed the hanging door. I instantly flinched at the sunlight that invaded my eyelids, having been locked up for so long, and I hissed- bringing a hand over my eyes. “Eugh, I hate it…”

Shippō made a face. “You have been inside all week…”

“Oi, kid!” Huh? Oh, that voice… I recognize it. Blinking a few times and squinting as my eyes tried to adjust to the sunlight, I turned to see Kōga wandering over with a wave of his hand. Kirara walked over to meet him halfway and then came to a stop, and I stared in confusion when he leaned over with his hands on his hips, a scowl on his face. “Why didn’t you say Maria was your sister? I could have brought you two together sooner!”

Ah… I mean…

“I… tried… I think?” When was that conversation? We were both on Kirara at that point of time, weren’t we? Oh! “It was when Inuyasha had turned… y-you know…”

Kōga scrunched his nose up. He straightened his back and folded his arms across his chest. “Really? I don’t remember you doing that.”

Yeah, I know. You stopped listening midway through my sentence because we were chasing Kagura. I hung my head to the side and yawned, sleepy.

“That’s fair. So, um…” I looked up at him, a little awkward and a tiny bit grateful. “You’ve been looking after her… all this time?”

“Hm? Yeah.” He nodded, flashing a grin. A couple wolves started to make their way over and I tensed, but did my best not to be too scared. Kirara and Shippō weren’t reacting in fear, so why should I? It’s fine. I’m fine. “According to two of my men, she fed some of the wolves when she first met them. They brought her back to the mountain since she was injured.”

Kōga then scratched the back of his head, thinking about everything that’s happened and appearing a little sheepish.

“We… also thought she might have done something to Kagome at the time because of her strange clothes. We didn’t hurt her, though, so don’t bother getting mad at me.” He scowled. “She’s a proper member of the Wolf Demon Tribe now. She’s even taught my men a thing or two about swords.”

Wait, really? My heart simultaneously warmed and ached at the thought, and I gave a small laugh- breathy and pained and weak. I was so glad. She’s had people looking out for her. Heck, she was even whipping them into shape. Maria truly was a force of her own. “That sounds like her.”

“Yeah. Oh, hey- here comes the others.”

I followed the direction he was staring and saw Maria making her way over with Inuyasha, Sango, Kagome, Miroku, Maria, and… Tōran? I guess they were discussing what the panther demons plans were now that they had been defeated. Or maybe not. I had no idea. The half-demon’s ear twitched and I held up a hand, waving lazily at them with a grin.

“Morning…!”

“You’re so loud.” Inuyasha scowled.

“You say that like it’s new.” I countered. He hmph’d, folding his hands into his sleeves in the way he always does, and then glared when he saw Kōga standing there. “You again.”

“Hey there, mutt.” Kōga greeted, smirking, giving a sarcastic wave. “How’s it going? Wash out those fleas of yours yet?”

“Funny you should ask.” He snarked. “I was just wondering the same thing about you.”

“Okay, kids!” Kagome exclaimed, clapping her hands in front of her and stepping between the boys. Inuyasha and Kōga jumped, startled by her intervention. “Let’s not have this escalate any farther! Irene still isn’t feeling well, and it’s time we all discussed our plans for moving forward. Got it? Good.”

“Hmph.” Inuyasha was not happy at all with this. His face had twisted into a begrudging pout, head turned to the side to avoid looking at her. “He started it.”

“And I’m ending it.” Kagome stated, hands on her hips as she leaned over and glared up at him. “No fighting!”

“Whatever you say, Kagome.” Kōga said, voice taking on a much softer tone than before. He held his chin up, as if priding himself on something. “Unlike him, I actually listen to the woman I’m in love with.”

That lit another fire under Inuyasha, because his amber gaze snapped up with a rage. “You little-!”

“Sit, boy!”

I flinched when the beads around the half-demon’s neck lit up, and he screeched as his face was violently forced to meet the ground. Maria let out a whistle- strangely enough not surprised by what just happened. I guess Kagome used the incantation against Inuyasha sometime while I was asleep. Him and Kōga together was a recipe for disaster, after all, though I didn’t really approve of the beads of subjugation.

Miroku shook his head with a sigh, staff held to his side. “You’d think he’d learn by now.”

Sango raised her brows. “Bold of you to assume he knows how.”

“Agreed.” Shippō stated bluntly. I made a face.

“You’re not… wrong…”

Kagome let out a huff, then turned to me with a bright smile. “So, now that that’s settled! Let’s get down to business.”

Twisted Wonderland: Once Upon A Dream Chapter 35 Preview (WIP)

“Fufu~ you’re most welcome, dear.” Lilia chuckled, sitting up and leaning over, bringing his fingers to my hair and playing with my bangs again. “How are you feeling? I wasn’t expecting to find both you and Silver passed out on the furniture when I returned.”

Frick! Silver! Oh my gods!

Lilia quickly retracted his hand when I hurriedly sat up, the man watching as I looked around in a panic. Locating the sleepy teen within seconds, I caught the jacket as it fell off my lap and stumbled off the sofa, pain momentarily shooting through my wounded knee before I grabbed onto the sofa’s armrest.

“A-Are you okay!?” Aurora-colored eyes met mine and slowly blinked, observing the way I was acting and tilting his head just slightly. “You- earlier- you just…! I-I found you on the ground and you wouldn’t wake up, and-!”

I whirled around to face Lilia, all the worse-case scenarios rushing to mind.

“Poma! You should take him to Poma! The nurse! Nurse Salvador.” Crap. A wave of dizziness washes over me and I pressed a hand to my head, jacket draped over my arm. “He can… help…”

“I’m alright, Lady Eleanora.” Silver spoke quietly, pressing a hand to his chest and bowing his head. “I… apologize for troubling you.”

“What? No, no-“ Gods, my head is spinning. “-that's fine, I’m fine; are you fine!? You were literally collapsed and-“

“I’m afraid that’s normal for Silver.” Lilia quickly informed, floating up off the sofa and plopping on the armrest instead.

Pokémon: Time Lapse: Reluctant Hero Chapter 16 Preview (WIP)

This was such a ridiculous situation. Was Brock done cooking yet? I really want to talk to him. Basil and Belladonna waddled over to Blue, unable to join the group cuddle because of the room Umbreon took up, and the former pōkemon trainer raised a brow in amusement.

He gladly welcomed them over, petting them and gently scratching the side of Belladona’s face. “Compared to you, they’re pretty well behaved. I guess that’s because Brock is helping you train them.”

“Hey, now!” Brock suddenly said, entering the room with two bowls of soup in his hands. A light-hearted grin was on his face. “I’ll have you know she’s an excellent trainer! She beat me first try.”

“I think that says more about you than her.” Blue joked, and yelped when Basil headbutted his leg. “Whoa! Okay. Someone’s a little protective.”

Brock laughed. The boy’s smile only grew when he saw the way I was bombarded with pōkemon, and he calmly walked over- handing a bowl over to me. Umbreon took that as her queue to leave my lap and hop onto the floor, brushing her trainer’s legs.

“Here.” Brock said, watching as I set the bowl down in my lap. “Eat this. We’ll leave once you’ve both finished breakfast, seeing as everyone is in such a good mood.”

“What about Nugget Bridge?” Blue inquired, frowning. He set the bowl on the armrest of the couch, blowing on it before picking up the spoon. “Team Rocket has tons of their goons there.”

“Not anymore.” Brock smirked, placing his hands on his hips with a proud air about him. “I took care of them. I had Basil and Belladonna knock em out and drag ‘em to the police center. After that, I told them about the underground hideout- so they’re pretty much emptying the place out. Team Rocket isn’t going to be camping out in this city any longer.”

Oh.

Taking note of my silence, both boys turned to look at me. Sensing both the negative and conflicted emotions within me, Ansem let out a small mew and Basil and Belladonna moved off of Blue’s lap and closer to Machamp and me.

I lowered my head, eyebrows furrowed as I tried to decipher what it was I was feeling and how I was supposed to react. I was pleased, I guess, to hear that the underground base was being removed and the goons inside and out of it were arrested. I was also bothered by it.

Not because I cared about Team Rocket, but… because Brock took care of it all on his own. He didn’t take me along. He could have gotten severely hurt, captured and beaten the same way Blue had been. I don’t like that. I don’t like him being in danger.

“Hey…” The older, brown-skinned teen in question spoke up softly, stepping forward and kneeling down on the floor to look up and catch my gaze. I blinked, seeing his face in front of mine. Brock was frowning. “Are you mad at me?”

What?

“I know… you like to do things on your own. I also know that you don’t want to put me in harm's way. But…”

Brock reached forward, resting his hands on my arms gently- careful not to disturb any of my wounds or burns. He looked so sad, so heartbroken and concerned, and something inside me ached at seeing that. I wanted him to go back to how he was before- smiling the way he had been when he was cooking.

“I don’t like you getting hurt either.”

I…

“You need to start relying on me more. We’re not helpless or weak. We’re just as strong as you are. We can help you. There’s no reason for you to go tackling so many problems alone, especially if it’s just going to break you in the end. Grunt, I-“

Brock cringed, realizing his mistake the second he saw my flinch.

“I’m sorry. I just… want you to realize we’re here. I went out on my own with Basil and Belladonna because I wanted you to know this. We’re your friends, and we want to help you. But you have to let us.”

“That’s…”

I blinked a few times, feeling a familiar sting in my eyes, and suddenly Machamp’s grip loosened. My pokémon huddled around us, worried. I tried to speak, to get the words out and defend myself, to protest against him doing something like this again, only to find that I couldn’t.

He had made a good point.

#twisted wonderland #twst #eleanora quince #Inuyasha #Irene #Inuyasha fanfic #Pokémon #pokémon let’s go eevee #pokemon oras #fanfiction wip

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forgottenpasta · 5 years

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Baby, You’re Bad | 01

Summary: A drunken, pre-debut mistake comes back to haunt Yoongi when years later you turn up pregnant from the sperm he donated when he was a broke, underground rapper. idol!au, pregnant!reader.

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, Taehyung x Reader

Word count: 9.5k

Warnings: overuse of the word sperm lol; graphic depiction of artificial insemination; this is an asshole!Yoongi au; Suga when he was Gloss; use of real-life instances for plot purposes; idk some people might not like that.

“Are you ready, Miss___?

No. Yes. No.

Maybe the fertility medication they had you on was making you illogically sentimental, but you felt like bawling your eyes out.

The thin pen-shaped catheter in the doctor’s gloved hands epitomized everything you’d ever wanted. Third time’s the charm, they say. God, you hoped so.

You nodded a little too vigorously. “Yes, please.”

The kind nurse who’d been assigned to you since the beginning of your treatment chuckled from beside the ultrasound machine. If the doctor was amused at your enthusiasm, she didn’t let it show. She bent her head between your stirruped legs.

You were beyond any kind of embarrassment now, no stranger to a doctor tinkering with your vagina to get you pregnant. This was your third IUI. If you could, you’d shout it from the rooftops. If climbing the Everest and planting a flag at the summit that said “I want a fucking child!” got you pregnant, you would. If could just blast off to space—

“This might feel a little uncomfortable.”, the doctor, Kim Yeri, warned, adjusting the speculum wedged down there.

“I know.”

The nurse gave you an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up as she mouthed “Fighting!”. Feebly, you smiled back. In a moment of weakness, you’d spilled all your world woes to her when you’d come for the initial check-up. After two previous failed Intra Uterine Insemination attempts at two different clinics, you had been feeling like the most barren woman on the planet, despite the doctors assuring you that it wasn’t your uterus that was the problem, but “you know sometimes these things just don’t work, it’s all luck and probability.”

Your bank balance wasn’t surviving on luck and probability though, it was suffering. Your money wasted on absolutely nothing, nada, nothing coming out of your vagina in the next nine months except more periods. You’d started to hate the sight of your own blood, associating with it the feeling of disappointment at your empty womb.

You twitched slightly as the catheter entered you, willing yourself to not clench your pelvic muscles as the doctor had instructed.

Ever since you could remember, you had wanted to be a mother. You absolutely adored children, lived for them. Literally. Your job as a children’s fiction writer wasn’t something that just happened, you had decided what you wanted to be during the summer vacation of junior year in high school, when all your aunts would leave you with their children as they went off golfing. That’s when you discovered that you had a special talent with mini people. You could spin intricate, sometimes nonsensical stories that put them in a trance and into a deep sleep in record time. Stories about princesses who turned into pirates, a little mouse’s adventures on other planets, a talking pebble who wanted to be a diamond and so much more. Kids loved you, even days old infants seemed to like being in your presence (their mothers’ words not yours).

But as much as you couldn’t even dream about being anything else, writing children’s stories was hardly as lucrative as being a doctor or a lawyer. You did good enough for yourself but your job couldn’t support repeated attempts at artificially induced pregnancy.

As the catheter breached your cervix, you closed your eyes and relaxed back into the examination chair. This was it. If it didn’t work out this time, you didn’t know what you’d do.

Try the traditional method like everyone else.

Internally, you snorted at the thought. One side effect of wanting your own child in your mid to late twenties, no potential partner ever saw eye to eye with you. Men didn’t want to be saddled down with a child this early. Your own pickiness with partners could also be blamed. You weren’t into men who weren’t good with children. One of your ex-boyfriends once scolded a 11-year-old kid for loitering around his new bike, checking it out. The next day you’d dumped him via text.

Suffice it to say, at twenty-seven you were painfully single and the prospects of a serious relationship in your near future looked as microscopic as the sperm being currently inserted inside you.

Looking down your hospital gown-clad body, you noted the transparent tube pumping “washed” cryopreserved and thawed semen into you. The clinic where you’d went for your first IUI had explained the procedure. The preserved donor sperm was “washed” off any impurities and chemicals to ensure maximum sperm count per mL.

As the cloudy liquid travelled down the tube, you briefly wondered about it’s origins. When you were filling the form for donor specificities, Dr. Kim had presented you with the options of having sperm that could result in potential desired characteristics for your child. Such as a donor with green eyes or dimples or tall height or even a specific race. The whole talk had left a weird taste in your mouth and you had quickly dismissed it, writing only ‘healthy’ on the form. This wasn’t a pre-order and you’d love your child no matter how they turned out.

Now, you let your mind wander off to the unknown person who’s child you would potentially (hopefully) bear. What were they doing right now? What did they look like? Did they have any idea they were likely about to have a biological child out there? You shook your head, anonymous donors sold their semen for money, they probably already had many children out there from women like you or infertile couples. You could never understand how a parent was comfortable knowing there was a child out there who would never know them, but you weren’t about to criticise someone you were directly profiting off of.

“All done.” Dr. Kim smiled as she sat up straight, slowly pulling the tube out of you and placing it on the tray the nurse held out.

“Do you think this might be it?” There was a slight wobble in your words.

Damn hormonal drugs.

Dr. Kim gave you the signature neutral yet evasive and unintentionally condescending smile all doctors seemed to master when their patients asked hopeful questions with no right answers.

“If everything goes well from here on out, I can’t imagine why this shouldn’t be it. You have to take care of yourself and keep us informed about any changes in your body. I’m scheduling a check-up in two weeks. But you can take an at-home pregnancy test before that if you miss your period and feel like you might be pregnant.”, she explained, pulling out the speculum as well.

You stayed put, knowing from previous experience that keeping your pelvis horizontal for a few minutes was recommended after insemination.

“Okay, thank you, Dr. Kim.” You smiled your gratitude at the cheerful nurse too.

“Good luck, Miss __. I’ll see you soon, hopefully with good news.”

Afterward, when you slowly made your way to your car in the clinic’s parking lot, you couldn’t help but caress your stomach. A tender, optimistic gesture. This had to be it. Having a child of your own was everything you’d ever wanted, the dream of being a mother one of the goals you had always been steadfast on. A dream which might finally be coming true.

~•~•~

“What a nightmare.”

Yoongi’s hushed words seemed loud in the silent SUV. A complete contrast to the din and clamour outside. The car was inching at a snail’s pace, wading through a mob of fans gathered outside Charles De Gaulle. After landing, their private jet had taxied close to the VIP exit and they had left feeling like this might be a rare hassle-free entry into another country. But somehow, someone had been tipped about the cars they were leaving in and a horde of fans had greeted them as soon as they merged into the main exit outside the airport.

“Shut up, they’re endearing.”, Taehyung griped, peering out the window when some armys started doing fanchants. “A little cringy, yeah, but cute.”

A loud thud against Yoongi’s side of the car made Taehyung and Hoseok flinch, snapping their gazes towards their hyung. In the push and pull outside, someone had toppled against Yoongi’s car door.

The rapper cursed under his breath, immediately switching to an expression of indifference when phone cameras flashed too close, making him squint. He had thrown his face mask in his handbag and shoved it in the trunk and now he regretted it. The damn car didn’t even have tinted windows. Their jet lagged, irritated faces were going to be headlines in a matter of minutes.

Ahead of them, the SUV Jeongguk, Namjoon, Seokjin and Jimin were in wasn’t faring any better, a swarm of fans surrounding it like bees to honey.

Yoongi turned away from the window so they couldn’t read his mouth. “Cute, my ass. Where the fuck is the airport security? Someone’s gonna get hurt out there.”

As if on cue, three blue cars with the words Gendarmerie and flashing sirens atop haul in on the side road in a queue, the officers jumping out to contain the mob. As the fans start to disperse under harshly shouted commands, one girl pressed her hand to Yoongi’s window, gawking down at him with tears in her eyes, showing no signs of moving.

Yoongi gave her a small smile, reaching up to align his palm with hers through the glass. Cameras flash wildly as he observed the girl hyperventilate. Soon enough the officers clad in dark blue manage to push back the crowd and the cars surge forward. The girl’s hand slipped away from the window and the rapper didn’t look back as he sighed deeply, leaning his head back against the headrest.

Their motorcade sped down the freeway in a line, heading to the Peninsula, Paris.

His phone buzzed once in his pocket, but Yoongi didn’t care to check it, didn’t even open his eyes.

“You shouldn’t nap right now, hyung. You’ll feel more tired when we leave for the magazine shoot as soon as we reach the hotel.”, Hoseok advised, not looking up from his own phone.

“I don’t care. I’ll nap at the shoot too, they can take my photos with my eyes fucking closed. Nobody told them to schedule the shoot as soon we step foot in Paris.”

“Our management did.”, Taehyung supplied helpfully.

Yoongi snorted. “Of course they did. When do they ever let us breathe.”

Their manager in the front seat cleared his throat. “I’ll be sure to relay that to the higher ups.”

“Thanks.”, Yoongi replied dryly.

When they reach their hotel, the SUVs parked in the basement. Their keycards were quickly handed to them as they bypassed the front reception, to the private elevators straight to their rooms. Two master suites with connecting doors, four bedrooms in total. As usual, they Rock Paper Scissor it and Yoongi got to room with Namjoon. And as usual the lucky maknae won, sauntering to his room with a smug grin on his face.

“You have half an hour to freshen up, we have to reach the magazine’s studio at 3 sharp.”, Sejin informed after them.

Namjoon sprawled on the king sized bed when Yoongi called dibs on the shower, shucking his clothes haphazardly and placing his phone on the ornate bedside cabinet.

His mind was blissfully blank when he stepped inside the walk-in shower, the control panel allowing him to set the perfect temperature and pressure. Because this was routine, getting to the hotel just to jet off somewhere else, his mind was on autopilot, his body long since adapted to the requirements of someone always on the move. Although he complained and grouched, he knew he wouldn’t change a thing. Couldn’t. This was what kept them at the top.

He was out of the shower in five minutes, toweling his hair dry as he stepped inside the room naked. Namjoon didn’t even blink at him, they had been living together for the better part of a decade now, they’d seen all there was to see of each other.

The leader stretched out his long limbs languidly, getting up sluggishly to head to the en-suite. “Your phone’s been buzzing.”

Yoongi wrapped the towel around his waist, snatching up his phone to rove a cursory glance over the notifications. He was about to throw his phone atop the bed, dismissing the vague emails, when something stops him short. He peers down at the sender’s address.

Ajeevan Fertility & Gyne Centre.

What?

He unlocks his phone, thoroughly confused. This was his personal phone and he only got personal emails on it.

When the email expanded to full screen, he realised something. It wasn’t send to his current email address, but the one he used to use pre-debut, the one he’d made in high school. The one which fell into disuse after they had to change all their contact information due to privacy reasons. He didn’t even remember it syncing up through all his phone changes over the years, he never got notifications from it anymore. And sure enough, the last email of import send to him on this address was from five years ago. The spam folder was full though.

He opened the weird email again, finally deeming to read it. It was succinct, to the point.

Dear donor,

Thank you for your donation dated 2011/03/09. It has been successfully utilised to make our client’s parenthood dreams come true. You are eligible for another donation, please contact us if interested.

Regards

Sperm Bank Office

Ajeevan Fertility & Gyne Centre

**This is an automated message, please do not reply.**

Yoongi’s eyes burned a hole where the phone displayed the date. 2011/03/09. His eighteenth birthday. He took in a shuddering breath.

No no no no no.

Without conscious thought, he plopped down on the bed, his knees going weak. His heart beat spiked to triathlon levels. Putting the phone face down on the table, he rested his elbows on his towel draped thighs, head in his hands.

He had to think. But there was nothing but static in his jumbled brain, which was still trying to catch up to the implications of the email.

They made a mistake. They must have. I refunded the money. I told them I didn’t want it used.

But the date.

“You’re still not dressed. It’s almost time.”

Yoongi almost had a heart attack at Namjoon’s abrupt voice. “Fuck, dude. Why are you sneaking up on me?”

Namjoon’s frowned. He took out a pair of jeans from his bag, pulling them on as he eyed the other rapper. “I’ve been out here for a few minutes. What’s got you so lost?”

Yoongi didn’t answer. He wasn’t lost, he was on the verge of a full blown panic attack at even the minuscule possibility of a stupid teenage mistake coming full circle to end his life as he knows it.

“Hyung.” Namjoon came forward, now genuinely worried, jeans riding low on his shirtless torso. “What is wrong? Are you okay?”

Yoongi had only told one person about the time when he’d hit rock bottom in his life. Namjoon was not him.

“Can you get Jin hyung for me, Namjoon-ah?”, he asked, his words clear and coherent despite the chaos inside his mind.

The leader didn’t question it, just got up to do as asked, plucking out a shirt along the way.

A few minutes later, Jin poked his head inside, immediately entering and closing door at Yoongi’s pensive countenance. He raised a brow at the younger.

Yoongi held out his phone.

Jin took it, seating himself on the bed as well.

A few beats passed.

Jin exploded. “What the hell?! Yoongi?! Is this saying what I think it’s saying?!”

Yoongi ran a tired hand down his face. “ I gave them their money back. Explicitly told them I wanted my sperm thrown in the trash.” The anger which had been slowly simmering, now bubbles to the surface. “What the fuck is this, hyung? I don’t even recognise the name of the clinic. What the fuck did they do with it?”

Jin bit his lip, confused. “What was the name of the place you donated to?”

“I don’t even remember, but it definitely wasn’t that. I should have known they were shady as fuck when they refused to return my sample.”

Jin was surprised. “Yeah, that should have raised several red flags, Yoongi.”

“I was eighteen.”, Yoongi growled. “I was stupid as fuck. Shit, I agreed to donate sperm because my bank balance was riding the negatives, what does that tell you?”

“That you were desperate.”, Jin shrugged.

“Yes but not knowingly-having-a-kid-out-in-the-world desperate!”, Yoongi was freaking out. “I realised I didn’t have the moral consonance to have a kid I didn’t know and have estranged parents I despised at the same time. It was a stupid drunken whim, which I regretted the minute after and it has been one of the most shameful moments of my life since.”

“Wait.”, Jin scowled. “You were drunk when you donated and they let you?”

Yoongi sniffed. “I was tipsy, yeah. I needed liquid courage to go through with it.”

“That isn’t just red flags, Yoongi, thats red blaring fucking sirens. What kinda third rate, illicit place did you donate to?”

There was a knock on the door before Taehyung pushed it open. Behind him, the rest of the members looked ready to leave.

Sejin also came into view, frowning at Yoongi.

“Why aren’t you dressed?”

Jin and Yoongi exchanged a glance. Here goes fucking nothing.

~•~•~

“What a fucking liar.”

Yoongi’s glazed eyes drifted over to his roommate, Jaehyun.

“Who?”

He didn’t particularly want to know, but if he didn’t give Jaehyun some sort of verbal response he would likely keep pestering him about “liars who lied about lying”.

The blonde man took a deep inhale from his cigarette, blowing the smoke towards Yoongi. “That lying rat, Hyungwon. Did you see him strut in here decked head to toe in designer shit I can’t even pronounce the name of.”

Slowly, Yoongi turned around on his barstool, scanning the packed club with lazy eyes. He spotted Hyungwon among a gaggle of scantily clad girls feeling up his biceps.

Yoongi squinted. “Hyungwon? Wasn’t he asking you to set up a gig for him last month?”

“Asking? No, the bastard was begging.”, Jaehyun sneered. “Said he didn’t even have enough for his next meal. Now, look at him. The lying fucker.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Don’t tell me you actually took pity on him.”

“He was pretty fucking convincing.” Jaehyung signaled for two shots, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray atop the bar. “I even introduced him to our underground regulars, told them to give him a chance.”

“Is he any good?”

Jaehyun snorted. “Raps like a bubblegum pop princess.”

Laughing, Yoongi glanced back at the man in question, doing a double-take when he saw Hyungwon making his way towards them. “Ah shit. He’s coming here.”

Jaehyun blanched. “Hide me, quick.”

Too late.

“Hey, guys!”

Hyungwon hopped on the empty stool beside Yoongi, ordering a whiskey on the rocks, before turning towards the two men. “How have you been doing, Jay-T?” He wiggled his eyebrows a little. “And you, Gloss?”

Yoongi threw up in his mouth a little.

Jaehyun groaned. “I told you not to call me that if I’m not on stage.”

Hyungwon grinned.

Yoongi perused his attire. A gaudy jacket with square prints made up of the letter F, leather jeans that didn’t look like it came from a discount store where Yoongi got his from, ugly spiky sneakers with red soles. Although the outfit was hideous, he did seem to appear loaded all of a sudden. Usually, Yoongi wasn’t one to pry, but this bastard made him uncomfortable so he guessed he could return the favour.

“Weren’t you broke last month? Did you rob a bank or something?”

Hyungwon smirked. “Nothing that extreme. I just happened to get lucky overnight.”

“So you won a couple games of poker, then?”, Jaehyun questioned.

“Nah. Not that kind of luck.”

Both Yoongi and Jaehyun stared at him expectantly. The smug fucker just laughed.

“I paid off all my back rent, plus two months advance. Got presents for my three girlfriends and made the first deposit on my Royal Enfield.”

“You wanna rub it in?” Jaehyun scowled, his middle finger saluting him as he picked up his shot and downed it.

“Jaehyun helped set up your first gig.” Yoongi guilt-tripped. Normally he wouldn’t care about some random fucker’s get-rich-quick schemes but these were desperate circumstances. “You owe him.”

The bartender brought Hyungwon’s drink. He paid for it in cash, noticing for the first time that Yoongi was neither drinking nor smoking. “Ah, why don’t you just admit it out loud? You need money. Can’t even afford a drink, can you?”

Yoongi flushed, squirming in his seat.

Hyungwon raised a brow, feigning surprise. “Aren’t you one of the best underground rappers out there? The next big star?”, he snickered. “Dreams not quite panning out?”

“Shut up, loser.”, Jaehyun snapped. “He’s got a big audition coming up in a few months. When he gets in, we’ll see who’s laughing.”

“With what company? SM, YG?”

Jaehyun grit his teeth to stop himself from strangling the man. “Bighit.”

“Never even heard of it.”

Yoongi cut in, not liking the two men talking about him as if he wasn’t there. “Not your concern. Just tell us how you made so much in a month.”

Hyungwon took a small sip of the whiskey, swallowing leisurely. He eyed the two men down as if they didn’t quite hold up to whatever judgments he was imparting in his mind. “It doesn’t matter anyway, you both are a bunch of pussies.

Jaehyun, infamous for his short temper, bristled. “What the fuck did you say, you cumstain?”

Yoongi held his arm, halting him before he stood up.

If they had put up with the asshole for so long, he was going to damn well make sure they got something out of it. Besides, he NEEDED to know how to get some quick cash. Jaehyun wasn’t aware of the extent of Yoongi’s destitution. What little money he made doing odd jobs and occasional gigs went to school fees and rent, whatever was leftover, if anything, went towards his music. Pretty soon even his daily diet of ramen was gonna go out of his budget.

“What do you mean a bunch of pussies? Are you selling your organs or something?”, Yoongi pressed.

Hyungwon snorted. “Close enough.”

Okay. Yoongi wasn’t that desperate. “What the fuck, dude!”

Jaehyun’s eyes went wide and sorrowful. A complete 180 from his ire two minutes ago. “Bro. You don’t have to do that, there are always other options. Selling your body isn’t the answer. Let me set up something for you, spare your kidneys, please—

“Shut up.” Hyungwon scowled. “I’m not selling my internal organs.”

Yoongi was confused. “What are you selling then?”

Hyungwon took an unconcerned sip. “My sperm.”

Yoongi was shocked into silence, while Jaehyun scrunched up his face like he’d just tasted the sourest lemon. “That’s equally as fucked up.”

“It’s not. It’s just cum.”, Hyungwon defended. “I’m getting paid handsomely to cum in a plastic cup. If that’s not the easiest money, I don’t know what is.”

“Yeah and that cum is probably in some middle-aged woman’s oven, baking your fucking babies.”

Hyungwon shrugged, not in the least bit concerned. “They’re not mine. Biologically maybe, but I got nothing to do with them apart from that. I’m not an idiot, I read all the terms and clauses. Legally, I’m not gonna be a father until I fuck a baby into someone.”

Jaehyun shook his head, not convinced. “That’s still fucked up.”

“Whatever.” Hyungwon rolled his eyes, finishing his drink. “As I said, a bunch of fucking pussies.”

Yoongi was in deep thought as he listened to the two argue intently. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing out his opinion, “That’s gonna be on your head forever, always at the back of your mind. That you’ve got kids out there who don’t even know you exist.”

“They’re not my kids.”, Hyungwon reiterated, done with the conversation as he spotted a busty bottle blonde leaning across the bar seductively. “Now if you pussies are done, I gotta go dole out my thousand dollar cum for free tonight. Charity turns me on.”

Jaehyun watched him approach the blonde with a grimace. “What a sleazy asshole.”

“He is.”, Yoongi agreed. “But I hadn’t ever thought you could make so much selling semen.”

“I don’t think the government recognised sperm banks offer so much. He must be going to some back alley place.”

Yoongi hummed. “Must be.”

A month after the encounter with Hyungwon at the club, Yoongi had never felt more downtrodden in his life. If he had sinned in his previous life, karma was working overtime. His pity party had been going on for a week now. Right from when he’d been kicked out of his apartment for nonpayment of three months’ rent, to when he’d turned up at his usual hangout with the underground scene just to find out his upcoming gigs had been given to a new rapper he hadn’t even heard the name of, to his bank calling him for payment of pending bills, to here. In a line with the homeless for some free food at a soup kitchen and shelter.

When he’d left home to chase his dreams, he’d never imagined that the road would be easy. He’d been prepared for ups and downs. But these weren’t just downs, these were never ending canyons that seemed to stretch on forever. He’d long since sold the music equipment he’d bought with his hard earned money to pay for school. With graduation so close, he hadn’t wanted to be expelled on top of being homeless. Jaehyun had offered to pay either his rent or tuition but Yoongi knew the guy was barely hanging on by a thread himself. He couldn’t ask for money from someone who barely had any to spare.

He heaved a sigh when the line finally moved. The woman in front of him, who looked like she’d been on crack for decades, gave him a glare for the impatient noise. He wanted to flip her off. He hadn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday when the kind acquaintance who’s sofa he’d been crashing on had offered him a sandwich. Moreover, in about half an hour he had an interview with a pizzeria for a delivery guy position. He didn’t wanna pass out in front of his potential employers, his ticket out of homelessness. But if this line didn’t hurry up, he’d have to forego a meal, he didn’t want to be late.

Which was exactly what happened. Twenty minutes and the line barely moved a few feet, the bored volunteers taking their time serving the cold soup and stale bread.

After a few more minutes Yoongi cursed, his old wristwatch told him it was 3:56 pm. If he didn’t hightail it out of there he could kiss the job goodbye.

Fuck it.

Breaking the line, he sprinted out. The pizzeria was just two blocks away, he could make it in time if he ran. He didn’t have the money to catch a taxi anyway. And if he jaywalked a little, he could even have a few minutes to spare to change into the button down in his backpack. It was just a delivery position, but for him everything depended on it. He wanted to make a good impression.

And jaywalked he did. Right into the bumper of a speeding car.

The first few seconds, the lights were knocked out of him. When he came to, he did a mental survey of his body as he lay there on the pavement, a crowd forming around him. He didn’t feel any wetness, no blood then. Not a lot of excruciating pain either. Could it be that his stupidity had been spared or was he in hell already?

The murmurs of the crowd registered. A kind elderly man’s voice spoke somewhere above him. “Young man, are you okay? The ambulance is on its way. We don’t wanna touch you in case anything’s broken.”

Ambulance.

A sudden electricity zinged through his body, and Yoongi sat up, flinching when his shoulder screamed. There’s the pain.

“No ambulance.”, he grit out. He couldn’t have medical bills on top of everything right now.

As he reached up to push back the hair in his eyes, his watch gleamed. 4:09pm.

His shoulders sagged in defeat.

That night he sat with Jaehyun in his former apartment, drinking cheap soju his friend had scrapped together for him somehow. He’d told himself he deserved it after the day he’d had. Hell, the week he’d had. But somewhere inside him was a feeling of self loathing for wasting precious seconds not actively seeking to remedy his situation and stop relying on others.

Jaehyun had picked him up that afternoon when he’d refused any medical help. So now his arm was in a makeshift sling, painkillers and alcohol doing the job doctors were supposed to. He was pretty sure he’d torn a ligament or something. He didn’t know, he slept through all his biology classes.

On top of it all, it was his birthday tomorrow. He was turning 18, a legal adult. Not that it mattered, he’d been on his own since 15. Why did his life feel like it was ending when it had barely just begun?

“What if I do it?”, he hypothesised out of the blue. “Its gonna be quick and I just need to forget afterwards.”

Jaehyun frowned. “What are you talking about, my man?”

“Sperm donation.”

Jaehyun choked on his drink. “Yoongi! No, what the fuck!”

“Why not?”, Yoongi asked, his mind working overtime to justify something he’d never thought he’d need to. It was a given. “Its not like anybody would know. Well apart from you and me.”

“That’s not the point. You wanna have kids so young?”

Yoongi scowled into his glass. “I’m not the one who’s going to be having them.”

“Look, man. I think its just the alcohol talking—

“I’m not drunk.”

“—but I’m not gonna stop you if you think this is the only way out. Just know that you’re gonna regret it later.”

“Later.”, Yoongi muttered softly. “How I wish it’d be later already.”

Later that night, he dialed Hyungwon.

~•~•~

“Jaehyun was right. I regretted it the second the hangover dissipated. That was one of the worst days of my life, not counting the string of shit shows preceding it. I rushed back to the place as soon as I could. I returned the money, I hadn’t even taken it out of the envelope. They said the sample couldn’t be returned to me, but they’ll make sure it was out of the system.”

“Well, they lied.”, Sejin deadpanned, eyes narrowed as if figuring out a thousand ways around this situation already.

The rest of the boys, barring Seokjin, stared at Yoongi in awe. They sat around him on the living room couches, while he stood by the window, gazing at the Parisian skyline.

A far cry from the broken pavement, busted in windows and dilapidated buildings, the landscape of his late teens.

The boys had known the rapper had struggled a lot before joining bighit, but for it to be laid out in so much detail. A new respect for him shone in their eyes.

When Yoongi turned to face them, he was surprised to see no judgment on their faces, but he shouldn’t have been.

“So,”, Jin straightened up, clapping his hands. “Let’s lay this down, shall we? Yoongi donated sperm to a shady place in 2011, but returned the money and demanded it not be used. Since this sperm bank was likely illegal in the first place, they didn’t care to actually go through with his request. Then it somehow ended up in the fertility clinic he got the mail from. Which leads us to now, according to the mail, someone is probably pregnant with Yoongi’s child.”

“No, don’t say that.”, Yoongi shook his head, refusing to come to the obvious conclusion. “Don’t even imply it. I don’t have a kid out there but I do want all traces of my sperm out of any kind of bank.”

Namjoon peered at Yoongi with sympathy. “Hyung, they’re saying you’re eligible for another donation. Your previous sample was used already. According to my guesstimates, there’s 50% chance the woman they put it in, is pregnant.”

“Fuck your guesstimates.”

Jeongguk scratched his head. “But it’s been years since Hyung was 18. How is it getting used just now?”

Sejin answered him, not glancing up from his phone. “Google says preserved sperm can be used for upto 20 years after donation.”

Yoongi cursed.

Jeongguk was still confused, brows scrunched. “How? Won’t the baby be—“

“Don’t say it.”, Yoongi groaned.

“—20 years old then?”

A slap to the back of the youngest’s head sounded. Yoongi didn’t look to see who’d done the public service.

“What are you going to do, hyung?”, Jimin asked worriedly. “You could just let it be. Ignorance is bliss and all.”

Taehyung gasped in outrage. “How can you even suggest such a thing, Jimin? It’s his kid we’re talking about! He could be a parent!”

Yoongi growled. “Don’t say that.”

But Taehyung wasn’t finished with his sermon. “Even if there’s a minuscule chance of this actually being true, it’s his duty to care and provide for his offspring. Even if he or she is unwanted.”

Yoongi gazed at the darkening sky for divine intervention.

“Hold your horses, Taehyung-ah.”, Sejin stood up. “I messaged the magazine studio about a reschedule. The photoshoot will be before the concert tomorrow.”

No one said a word, everyone too preoccupied to be focusing on trifling things like photoshoots.

“As for this problem.”, Sejin continued, giving Yoongi a reassuring look. “Let me handle it. I’ll run a check on the place you mentioned and the fertility clinic. We can’t publicly sue anyone because one, donating to an illegal place would incriminate Yoongi as well and two, we can’t afford to have a word of this get out. But an anonymous tip to the police should do the job.”

“What about...”, Taehyung trailed off, not knowing how to mention the person who might be carrying Yoongi’s child.

“I’ll pull some strings, find out who it is. First, we need to know if they’re pregnant or not. We’ll go from there.”

Yoongi sighed, nodding. He supposed he could only hope and pray now.

~•~•~

“I can’t believe it. All your hopes and prayers came true. I’m so happy for you, noona.”

Taeyong gushed as he arranged his Staedtler coloured pencils on your desk, lining them on the upper edge of his sketch book perfectly. The illustrator was obsessive about having all his stationary in perfectly designated places before drawing.

“It still feels like a dream. When the doctor confirmed it yesterday, I almost passed out.”, you grinned, lovingly flipping through your manuscripts to the scenes you wanted illustrated.

Your friend turned to face you with a pout, his ethereal face glowing from the sunlight streaming through your windows. “You should have taken me with you, noona. I don’t like that you went alone.”

“It’s alright, Ty.”, you addressed him with the nickname he loved so much. On cue, his cheeks flushed adorably. “I was fine, just jittery with excitement.”

Taeyong grinned, mischief in his eyes. His boyish youthfulness struck you and not for the first time you thought about basing a playful character on him. He was a college student, an art major. You hired him because you loved his whimsical sketching style and his watercolour realism. Also, because you didn’t have the money or the patience to get more “professional” artists. From your previous experience, they often turned their noses at any extra input from the author. Taeyong, on the other hand, loved to have you by his side as he set about bringing your characters to life.

Most importantly, you hired him because he was kind of your muse, though you never let him know that. He teased you enough as it is.

“I will let you off the hook if you declare me his or her godfather.”

And you loved to tease him back.

“You’re 19 years old, you’re a kid yourself, Ty.” You giggled as he flew off into an outraged rant.

“Noona, I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m not a kid! You’re not that much older than me, I don’t know why you gotta put on motherly airs already. It’s been a day since you found out you’re pregnant. Pump the breaks. And don’t you dare try to experiment your parenting skills on me, I’m warning you—“

The ringing of your phone from your bedside table cut him off. You stretched to reach for it, still guffawing lightly at your friend.

It was an unknown number. You picked it up.

“Hello.”

A man’s voice answered you. “Hello, is this __?”

“Speaking.”

“Good afternoon, Miss.__. I’m Park Beomgyu from Tangent Publications. You might have heard of us. We are a graphic novel and manhwa publishing company, but we’re starting to venture into children’s fiction as well. Your work has caught our attention and we’d like to partner up with you for your next project. That is, if you’re interested.”

You stared wide eyed at Taeyong, who was starting to look worried at your dumbstruck expression.

Work had never come to your doorstep. You’d always had to go chasing for it.

“Miss, are you there?”

“Y-yes! I’m here. And yes, I accept.”

The man chuckled. “Not so fast, Miss. Let’s discuss it first. If you’re free tomorrow morning, can I set up a meeting with our editor at 10 am?”

You spoke before he could properly finish. “Yeah, totally. I’m free. Just let me know the address.”

“I’ll message it. Looking forward to meeting you.”

“Yeah, same here.”, you said lamely as he hung up, your heart beating crazily in your chest.

“Who was it?”, Taeyong questioned, coming to sit beside you.

You launched yourself at him with a squeal.

~•~•~

You weren’t surprised when the address led you to Gangnam’s busiest area, office buildings and corporate suits abound. Though you did feel nervous in your light blue tea-length chequered dress. You didn’t own any suits or even pencil skirts, always feeling a little insecure with figure-hugging attire.

You had done your research last night, having never heard of Tangent Publications before. Sprawled on your couch with your all-time favourite animation, Finding Nemo playing on your tv in the background, you had set up your laptop on a cushion. Not perching it on your stomach like you usually did, paranoid about harmful rays reaching your baby.

You were surprised at the search results. As the man on the phone mentioned, they did only publish manhwas and even webtoons, but these were about idols. Their most widely sold comics being about BTS’ concept storylines.

A little further digging revealed that the company was partially owned by Bighit entertainment and STIC investments, which also had stakes in the entertainment sector.

What mattered to you was that they were successful, which looking at their net profit, they were and they had good editors, which your searches confirmed.

You were feeling extremely lucky and happy that they chose you for their next venture. At the right time too, the first installment in your new series was almost done.

The friendly receptionist greeted you with a smile, immediately telling you the right floor when you gave her your name. You checked your appearance in the elevator mirror, making sure there was no food stuck in your teeth or wrinkle in your dress.

You alighted on the eighth floor, where another lady at the front pointed you to the right door. You knocked at exactly 10 am, feeling satisfied at your timing.

The heavy oak door opened, startling you. You thought someone would call you in.

A tall man in glasses smiled at you, opening the door wide. You stepped in as he introduced himself.

“Good morning,__-ssi. My name is Sejin.”

“Oh, good morning.” Not the editor google mentioned, but of course, there would be others in a big publishing company. “Are you one of the editors?”

Sejin closed the door, motioning you to the seat in front of his desk, answering you only when you both had sat down. “Yeah.”

You smiled. “Thank you so much for offering me this opportunity. I’m so flattered you chose me for your first foray into children’s literature.”

“Your work speaks for you, __-ssi. You’re incredibly talented.”, Sejin praised, leaning forward to set his elbows on the table and interlace his fingers. You interpreted the body language easily, he was all business.

“We’d like to offer you a 5 book deal. A complete series if you will. You can negotiate for more if you feel like 5 won’t be enough. We will leave the story’s concept, art and every other creative decision to you, except of course the editing and research help you’d require. As well as get you the illustrator of your choice.”

“I already have an illustrator, I’d like to retain him.”, you interjected though everything he said left you reeling. Was this a daydream?

Sejin nodded. “No problem. As a starting point, we’d like to offer you 100 million won per book, negotiable down the line and not including sales profits.”

Your jaw dropped. “Is this a prank?” You turned in your chair, looking for cameras. “Am I being pranked? If so, I don’t appreciate it.”

Sejin gave you a calm smile. “No, ma’am. You are not being pranked. You heard me correctly. 100 million won per book, not including profits.”

You laughed. A disbelieving sound. “I’m sorry but either you don’t know how to do business or you’re really sure these books are gonna sell like hot cakes. And although I do think I’m really good at what I do, children’s literature is no fantasy or science fiction. It doesn’t have a fanbase readership to buoy every new installment that comes out. I have learned this the hard way.”

“You didn’t have us before. With the right marketing, anything can sell well.”, he simply replied, dismissing your concerns.

“Okay.”, you took a deep breath, a sudden pressure on your shoulders, something nagging at your brain you were too preoccupied to figure out. “I’d like to see the contract first.”

“Sure.” Sejin produced a thick document from the desk drawer, flipping through it as he casually spoke. “You can take it home, mull it over, take your time coming to a decision. You’re pregnant, so I wouldn’t like to keep you here for long.”

You froze, blood leaving your face.

“What did you say?”, you whispered.

Calmly, Sejin looked up from the papers, briefly glancing behind you before meeting your eyes. He didn’t repeat himself, showing absolutely no reaction.

Goosebumps raised on your arms, your voice fearful as you asked, “How did you know that I’m having a baby?”

“Because it’s mine.”

Jumping out of the chair in fright, you spun around.

A stunningly attractive and familiar face was leaning against the closed door. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

Glancing back at Sejin, who’d stood up as well, you slowly extricated yourself from the tangle of chair legs, moving to the middle of the room to have direct access to the door, but the newcomer was blocking your exit.

Sejin approached him, whispering something you couldn’t hear. The man nodded, not breaking the critical gaze with which he regarded you.

He let Sejin leave, locking the door behind him.

“Is there a reason why I’m alone in a room with you? I will bring this whole building down with my screams if you don’t unlock that door and step away from it right now!”, you threatened.

He rolled his eyes. “The room’s soundproof.”

“You—”, you paused your scathing diatribe before it had even begun, cogs whirring, memory catching up. “You’re Min Yoongi.”

“Congratulations.”

Bewilderment swamped you. What the hell was going on? “What do you want from me?

“Absolutely nothing.” Yoongi ambled towards you with indolent grace, his eyes never leaving your befuddled ones. “You have something of mine, unwillingly given.”

“I have never even met you before. I don’t even like your music.”

Maybe that add-on wasn’t necessary, but you were feeling caged and on the defensive.

Yoongi pursed his lips, his censorious gaze roving up and down your form. “Yeah, we don’t make music for the likes of you.”

You bristled. What the heck did that mean? You didn’t want to ask. “Thanks for sparing me. I still don’t see how I could possibly have anything of yours.”

“You’re pregnant and it’s mine.”

“I’m pregnant, yes, but what’s yours?”

Yoongi scowled. “You’re gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Say what?”

“I’m the father. You’re carrying..”, he seemed reluctant to continue but did, scowl deepening. “..my child.”

You faked a laugh, amused but more concerned for the unhinged man in front of you. “No, I’m not. Maybe you have amnesia or something, this is the first time I’m seeing you in person. Usually, your tetchy self only greets me from magazines and subway ads.”

“Don’t try to sound smart.__. You don’t.”, he parried. “The thing with artificial insemination is that the lonely women who get it, often don’t know who’s baby they’re carrying.”

For the second time, you tensed with trepidation. They had entirely too personal information on you. It didn’t make any sense, none of what he was saying did. “Why do you know that?”

You glared at him when he smirked.

“Ran a background check on you. Single, 27-year-old, children’s fiction writer, who’s been trying for pregnancy at different clinics for a year now. Bank balance is at an all-time low, the previous publisher isn’t picking up any of your new work. A string of failed relationships behind you because of your desire to have a child so early. Most of the time you hang around some college-aged kid who also does artwork for you, apart from that you don’t have many close friends. You stay at—”

“Shut up!”, you fumed, feeling really violated. The nerve of this man. He didn’t look the slightest bit bothered with his words. “You’re a celebrity, aren’t you? Don’t you guys scream privacy at every unsolicited photo, every personal detail revealed to the public? Your hypocrisy is alarming.”

“I will let you know one thing. Guilt is not an emotion I feel. The two situations aren’t even remotely comparable.” He stepped closer, his all-black attire striking against the white of the room. He looked like an irritated bat who’d been disturbed from his hibernation.

“Don’t interrupt me.”, he commanded. “I had to know what type of person my sperm had been,” he coughed, gaze drifting away for a second. “..used on.”

“Your...?”, you trailed off, still not connecting the dots. What he was implying was preposterous, it couldn’t possibly be that.

It was exactly that.

His voice was dispassionate when he explained, his countenance inscrutable, he was a master at masking every emotion. “A sample of my semen which was sent for regular health checkups was misplaced by a lab technician, accidentally labeled for donation to a sperm bank. I got to know about it when your fertility clinic sent me an email.”

You swallowed harshly. “They put it in me?”

Yoongi scrunched his nose. “Unfortunately.”

Did he have to sound so repulsed? You stepped back, only speaking when you’d somewhat processed your predicament.

You gave him a sympathetic frown. Best to go with understanding, you didn’t want a confrontation. It was a delicate situation which, if you wanted to weasel out of, you’d need some tact.

“That is unfortunate. I’m sure you must feel very frustrated. But I signed very hefty paperwork, before going in for treatment. And it said that the donor would have no legal right over the child, unless there’s a mutual agreement. I’m sorry but I have no obligation towards you and this is my child only.”

Yoongi’s gaze flickered to the hand you placed on your belly. He bit the inside of his cheek and you had the sneaking suspicion he didn’t give a flying fuck what your obligations were.

“I’m going to make myself very clear ___. I don’t want your apology. The people responsible for this mess are paying for it, don’t worry. But if you think that I’m gonna roll over politely and let you scamper off with what’s mine, you have another thing coming.”

Your blood boiled and you hurled towards him. He didn’t show any surprise when you poked his hoodie-clad chest angrily.

Fuck tact.

“I didn’t ask for this, you asshole. I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire fucking life and no dickwipe with a huge ego just because he can spit some words is gonna fuck it up for me.”

Yoongi blinked. “You swear too much for a children’s author, no wonder your sales are tanking.”

“Shut the fuck up!” You dug the pointer finger deeper in his chest.

He winced, clasping your wrist. “Okay, is this the right time to tell you that I was gonna suggest an abortion in exchange for the book deal?”

Panic swamped you, anger disappearing for a huge dose of terror. You clutched the fabric covering your tummy, a clawing need to run and protect your baby blanketing you. No one was going to take him or her away from you, not when you’d toiled your last penny and pinned your every hope on this baby.

“Hey.” Suddenly Yoongi crowded you, gently grasping your shoulders. “Hey, breathe please.”

His words made you aware of your lungs screaming for air, short, staccato breaths making you lightheaded.

“Breathe in for me.”, he guided and you obeyed, looking into his worried eyes to ground yourself. “And breathe out. Again. Just like that. You’re alright.”

A hand at your back guided you to the chair you’d previously occupied and you flopped down on it gratefully. Yoongi hunched over you, roving his searching eyes over your face for more signs of panic.

“I was joking. Partially.”, he bit his bottom lip, and strangely you found the action alluring. “I knew someone who worked so hard to reach this point, wouldn’t even entertain the notion.”

You glowered at him, annoyance dimming for surprise when you noted how close he was, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. He didn’t seem to notice it though.

“It’s very highhanded of you to even think about such a thing. No amount of money can replace a life.”

His eyes softened, the first genuine smile from him peeking through. If you didn’t know how much of an asshole he was, you’d think he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

“You’d be surprised how many people would disagree.”

“I’m sure you would.”

He nodded, having no problem admitting it. “Can you blame me? I’m at the peak of my career right now, this has all the makings of my fall from grace. Besides, I didn’t want children, ever.”

“Didn’t?”, you questioned his use of past tense.

He shrugged, straightening up and letting you relax a little from his heady presence. “You gotta roll with the punches.”

You hadn’t unclasped your hand from your dress, the fabric covering your stomach wrinkling horribly. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You dreaded it, but what he said wasn’t unexpected.

“I want shared custody.”

Never.

“No.” You brought down the hammer.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“I’m not gonna be an absent father, __”

“That’s alright.”, you threw back, absolutely done with this conversation. “You don’t have to be any kind of father.”

Slowly, so gracefully you didn’t even notice it at first, Yoongi hunched back over you, now impossibly closer. You leaned back as far as possible but you could tell two things, that his cologne was expensive and it smelled delicious as fuck.

“Then who’s gonna be the father?”, he asked quietly. You gulped.

“I- the- I mean no one. Single moms do just fine.” And because he started to move off of you and you were secretly a glutton for punishment, as well as for men who smelled mouth-watering, you added, “My future husband...”

You trailed off at the tick in his jaw.

He raised a brow. “How fucking cute. Too bad your domestic dreams are never coming true,__. What’s mine is mine. No other man is going to be the father of my child. Over my fucking dead body.”

You almost said, “then perish”, but he stood up, grasping your upper arm to help you up as well. He was incredibly gentle with you, a stark contrast to the verbal barbs he inflicted every time he opened his mouth.

For example:

“We’re also going to have to get a DNA test done.”

Before you could implode in his face, he interlocked your fingers with his, tenderly releasing your death grip on your dress. His other hand came up to push a strand of your hair behind your ear and hook your chin up.

You were blindsided. Rage and fluttering heart palpitations a weird combo.

“Don’t lose a fuse over it now. I think you’ve got enough on your mind already. Go home, sleep it off, we’ll talk when you’re feeling more level headed.”

It really shouldn’t have surprised you that he’d turn this into some sort of reverse psychology “I’m only looking out for you” situation, making you the unreasonable one for feeling, very justifiably, enraged at his imperiousness.

But you did really want to sleep it off, your newly changing body demanded you recharge from this draining encounter already. You sagged in his arms, letting him support you.

Yoongi smirked at your body’s compliance and you wanted to slap it off.

“How did you get here? Did you drive?”

You shook your head. “Took the subway, then walked.”

Yoongi peered at the heels on your feet, irritation flaring on his face. “For someone so adamant on having a baby, you’re already putting your health on the line, huh?”

There he fucking goes again.

“It’s none of your business.”, you said curtly.

He raised a challenging brow. “The baby you’re carrying is my business.”

His high handedness knew no bounds.

He pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call a driver to take you home.”

“No need.”

“It wasn’t a question.”

You grit your teeth, biting your tongue as he led you to the door. Just a few more seconds in his presence, then TO FREEDOM.

He opened the door.

And three men tumbled inside on top of each other, the momentum making them fall on the floor in a heap.

You winced.

“What the fuck?!”, Yoongi growled, his resting death scowl back with a vengeance. “Were you three fuckheads eavesdropping?”

The men immediately stood up, fixing their clothing. The one at the bottom of the heap winced when the one above him used him as support.

You recognised all of them. His bandmates. Although you weren’t their fan, you were still a little starstruck. The cameras didn’t do their faces justice. You shrunk behind Yoongi, a little intimidated at so much testosterone surrounding you. Prime specimen of the male species too. If you weren’t already pregnant, your ovaries would be tingling with primordial urges.

Then they all spoke at the same time.

“You wouldn’t let us come with you!” Taehyung.

“It’s all Taehyung’s doing hyung, we just wanted to make sure he didn’t get in any trouble.” Jeongguk.

“We?! What the fuck, don’t include me in your schemes. You guys dragged me here!” Jimin.

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose and you prepared for another of his already infamous searing rebukes. You wanted popcorn to watch these three guys get thoroughly chastened.

Taehyung just held up his hand, stopping the elder even before he began. “Calm down, hyung. We’re not here for you.”

Your jaw dropped. He shut Yoongi up with a hand. You wanted to worship at this guy’s shrine.

Then he peered around Yoongi to look at you, giving you a shy smile. “Hello,__. I’m Taehyung.”

Wow, Yoongi and his bandmates were night and day. This guy reminded you of Winnie The Pooh while Yoongi was Cruella de Vil personified.

When you didn’t say anything, Taehyung frowned with worry, turning accusing eyes at Yoongi.

“Hyung, you upset her.”

Yes, he did, Pooh.

Yoongi raised an unconcerned brow. “And? Why the fuck are you here again?”

“Would you stop with the swearing, there’s a child in the room.”, Taehyung reprimanded and your worshipful impulses grew.

Jeongguk scowled.

Jimin nudged him. “Not you, idiot.”

Taehyung came towards you with a placating smile, likely sensing the damage Yoongi had done. “I can drop you home. There’s a really good gelato shop a block from here. If you want we can stop there. Ice cream fixes everything.”

You nodded immediately, letting your guardian angel lead you out of the room with a hand at your back.

You didn’t spare Yoongi’s disbelieving face another look.

A/n: Taehyung will make a more proper appearace in the next chapter. Do let me know what you thougt, feeback keeps me writing.

#bts smut #bts imagines #bts fic #yoongi smut #taehyung smut #yoongi angst #taehyung angst #pregnant reader #young x pregnant reader #taehyung x pregnant reader #sperm donation #baby you're bad #Indian readers did you get the shoutouts?#back from hiatus #writing is a little rusty

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ocallypse · 1 year

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yet another starter call ,

♡ this post if you’d like a song based starter!

Please specify which muse(s) of mine ( && yours if multi ) are going to be used . If we already have over 2 threads going on please note i didnt forget about those!! Replies take me a while.

#˚ ᜔ ࣪ ✧ sit down darling lets talk . ┊ ooc #˚ ᜔ ࣪ ✧ . my mind is weak and now it's wandered off .. ┊queue

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anakin-danvers · 4 years

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night in 79′s

Anakin Skywalker x fem!reader

gif credit to owner!

Request: “Congrats on 100 again!!! Look at you 🤧🤧 im so proud, a queen getting the recognition she deserves :') I was wondering, could I get #59 from prompt list #1 w/ Anakin por favor? 🥺❤” as requested by @anakinswhore

Description: After accepting an invitation to unwind at 79’s from his men, Anakin meets the person who will show him love like no other.

Word count: ~1.8k

Warnings: some alcohol consumption, some mention of physical illness, sprinkle of spicyness 🌶, unapologetic fluff attack

A/N: this is a prequel to sun, but it can be read on its own! I love sun so much, especially because it was one of my first fics, so I wanted to show how reader and Anakin met for that fic! Since the other fic was somewhat sad, I wanted to give the two some fluff 💞 Also, Julia, I know you liked sun a lot as well, so I thought it’d be fitting to make this the prequel 🥰 If y’all want to listen to the song I had on repeat when writing both sun and this, go ahead and listen to My Father’s Favorite by Patrick Doyle from the Sense and Sensibility soundtrack. It’s from writing sun with that song that it now reminds me so much of Anakin (it’s my theme for him tbh).

P.S. Y/L/N indicates “your last name” :)

Tags: @acnini @roseofalderaan @ohhellokenobi @goldenkenobi @snips-n-skyguy0501 @cherieboba @sacred-things @nobie @obirain

join my taglist!

——

Anakin is confident. Or at least, he likes to think he is. He easily takes command on the battlefield, sure of himself when giving orders to his men. So why is it that he’s hesitating now?

It might be because he’s in a new setting, one that he never expected to be in after a battle-filled week: 79’s. Yes, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and general of the 501st battalion is in the clone bar surrounded by his men.

It’d been Fives’s idea, in a way. He’d been talking to a few of the other clone troopers about how much he was looking forward to unwinding in 79's after ‘this Maker-forsaken week’, when Anakin walked in on the conversation. Surprised by his entrance, Fives blurted out an invitation to the general, not expecting him to accept. Only, he did. And now Anakin is starting to wish he hadn’t.

He’s sitting in a booth, handling a Bloody Rancor, as recommended by Jesse. Sitting next to him is Rex, Anakin’s right hand man both on and off the field. Rex can sense his general’s uneasiness, indicated by his lack of talking and wandering gaze.

“General Skywalker, are you feeling okay?”

Anakin turns to look at Rex, nodding. “Yes, Rex, I’m fine. I’m just getting used to being in a cantina again. The last time I was in one was on a mission with Obi-Wan in my Padawan days.”

Rex chuckles lightly at the response, turning back to resume his conversation with his brothers on the table.

Anakin, on the other hand, keeps looking around. What for, he’s not sure. But his eyes keep traveling, mindlessly. He’s taking a sip of the Bloody Rancor when his eyes stop. He nearly spits out his drink.

He’s looking at you. You’re sitting with some friends, a similar drink to his nestled between your hands. You’re laughing, your face radiant under the cantina lights, and Anakin can’t help but stare.

Fives is the first to notice Anakin’s staring. He nudges Echo, motioning over to Anakin. Rex catches the two’s conversation, and his eyes follow their own, seeing the look of curiosity on Anakin’s face.

“You should ask her for a dance,” Fives says.

Echo looks at Fives in disbelief, shocked that he’d suggest that. “Fives, Jedi can’t—“

“I know, I know,” Fives interrupts his mumbling brother. “That doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy a dance, does it?”

At Fives’s suggestion, Anakin is hesitant again. He wants to go talk to you, he really does, but he’s not sure if he should. But then you turn, the feeling of his eyes on you prompting you to look at him. The smile on your face widens, and now Anakin is convinced he has to go talk to you.

He takes a large gulp of the Bloody Rancor, prompting a small cheer from the clones on the table (except Rex, who doesn’t want to pressure Anakin). He stands, smoothing his Jedi robes before making his way over to the table you and your friends are sitting at.

When he reaches your table, he clears his throat. Your eyes lock with his own again, and the way your eyes themselves are smiling at him make Anakin feel like a youngling again.

As if on queue, a new song starts, a slower song that has couples flocking to dance.

“Hello, I don’t mean to interrupt. I was wondering if you wanted to dance?” He’s extending his hand to you, and though he looks sure of himself, inside his heart is beating like a drum.

“I’d love to,” you say, and Maker the sound of your voice alone has him weak at the knees.

“Y/N, are you sure?” The woman sitting next to you tries to ask you discreetly, but Anakin picks up what she says. Looking over at her, he sees similarities between you and her, and he’s sure you’re related.

“I’m fine, Lani, it’s a slower song.” The woman, Lani, nods, though she doesn’t look fully convinced.

You take a hold of Anakin’s hand, skin coming to contact with his own. He leads you to where other couples are dancing, and places his gloved hand on the small of your back, making sure not to go too low. Your free hand takes a hold of his shoulder, and, following his lead, you begin to sway to the music.

At first, neither of you speak. You just move with the music, a small, content smile on your face. Then Anakin breaks the silence.

“Your name is Y/N.” It’s more of a statement than a question, having heard what Lani called you.

“Yes, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. And who do I have the pleasure of dancing with tonight?” You’re uncommonly bold tonight, unbeknownst to Anakin.

“Anakin Skywalker,” he says.

“Anakin.” You say his name. You enjoy the way it feels to say it, and Anakin knows he could hear you saying his name over and over again.

“Lani, is she your...”

“My sister. She’s my older sister.”

Anakin nods, the similarities in looks making sense. “She didn’t seem to want you to come dance.”

“It’s nothing against you, trust me. She’s just worried because I’m sick.”

Anakin’s eyebrows raise lightly. “Sick?”

You nod, a bashful look crossing your face and causing you to look down. “I can be prone to getting sick often, more often than most, and my body isn’t the strongest to fight it off. Lani can be protective because of that. I don’t usually tell people right away, but I guess I should give you a chance to run before anything.”

Anakin frowns lightly. Run? Who said anything about running? He takes his hand away from your back to slightly lift your chin, prompting you to look at him.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Your face instantly lights up with a smile, one that Anakin knows he wants to always keep on your face.

The two of you are seemingly stuck to each other the rest of the night, dancing and talking non stop. When it’s time to go home, Anakin walks you to your place, already making plans for when to see you again. Your meetings multiply over the days, the months, and soon, you’re seeing each other every chance you get.

It’s right before an assignment he’s sent on that he realizes he loves you. He’s known for some time now, arguably he’s known since the moment he laid eyes on you that night in 79’s. But there’s something about today, about the thought of not seeing you for Maker knows how many rotations, that pushes the thought to the front of his mind.

He loves you, and he needs to let you know.

Anakin is standing outside the door of your home, waiting for you to answer the door. He should be back at the Jedi temple, ready to depart with Rex, but he’s not.

You open the door, a surprised look on your face at the sight of him. Meanwhile, Anakin is smiling, the usual smile his face adapts every time he sees you.

“Ani, I thought you were off to Naboo today.”

“I am, but I wanted to see you first.”

Your mouth curls up to a smile, and you open the door wider to let him in. Once inside, you hug him and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“I love that you came, but aren’t you going to be late? You said Rex and you were set to leave at,” you look over at the clock on your wall. “Now!”

Anakin laughs lightly, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you into him. You’re not sure how he’s so calm about being late for his assignment; in all your time knowing him, he’s never been late.

“It’s alright, my love. I told Rex to expect delays.”

At his nonchalant manner, you can’t help but join in and laugh. You take a hold of his face, bringing it down so that you can kiss him. When your lips meet, they mold perfectly, as always. Anakin moves to deepen the kiss, his brows furrowed in concentration. His eagerness reminds you of your first kiss together.

You’d been sick, and Anakin had stopped to check up on you. After helping feed you some soup, much to your protest, you were wiping your mouth. His eyes focused on your lips, and in a bash of boldness, he’d leaned in to take your lips with his. The two of you were left breathless, much like now.

Your need for air causes you to pull back, to Anakin’s dismay. He could kiss you forever, the taste of your lips doing more at keeping him alive than oxygen itself.

Without hesitating, Anakin speaks. “I love you.”

You pull his face down to yours again, literal electricity sparking when your lips meet. You’ve kissed him just seconds ago, but this kiss, it’s different.

Anakin’s arms around you tighten, mouth exploring your own, as if it holds hidden treasures. Your hands entangle in his locks, tugging lightly and earning a groan from him. You take a small nip at his lip before pulling back, taking in the look of a closed eyed, drunken-like Anakin.

“Wow.”

His response elicits a giggle from you, the sound making Anakin open his eyes.

“I love you, sun of my life. I always will,” you say.

He leans in to kiss you for a third time, this time trading your lips for the top of your head. It’s soft and tender, one that evokes a content sigh from you.

“Come to Naboo with me.” His lips are still on top of your head, his invitation mumbled.

You pull back to look up at him. You’ve never been anywhere but Coruscant, Anakin knows that. He’d always promised you that he’d take you to experience the different worlds within the galaxy. You’d always assumed he’d meant after the war. Anakin, on the other hand, saw no better time than now.

“I’m sure guests aren’t allowed on assignments related to Jedi business,” you say, cocking a brow.

Anakin gives you a lopsided grin, moving a strand of hair from your face.

“Nobody has to know.” The look of confusion on your face causes him to laugh. “I could sneak you on the transport. It’ll just be Rex, a few of my men, and I. It shouldn’t be difficult.”

“Ani, I don’t want to get you into any trouble.”

“You won’t, don’t you worry about that. Plus, the Festival of Light will be tomorrow. I’d love for you to see it.”

Anakin sees and senses your hesitation. When you let out a sigh, he knows he’s won.

You finally agree, and Anakin envelopes you in a hug. It’s the first of many assignments and low risk missions he sneaks you into. He makes it his mission to show you the galaxy, to show you the beauties that, for him, will never compare to you.

Every time you land on a new planet, a smile of pure fascination paints your face. And every time Anakin sees it, he knows there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you smiling.

#i love how this turned out!#chasity reaches 100!🥳#userkarina #usernobie #userlilylils #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker reader insert #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars reader insert #star wars imagine #fem reader #anakin-danvers work

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varls · 4 years

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Title: About Courage Chapter: Two Characters: Reader and Blake Pairing: Blake x female Reader Request: Find it here. Summary: Two of your brothers already died during the Great War and you could see your mother getting sadder and more desperate every day. When your youngest brother is referred to as missing, you make the decision to go to France as well, to find him and bring him back home. But when you arrive, you soon realise you may have not thought it through. Acting like a man isn’t as easy as it sounds and Lance Corporal Blake is a lot smarter than most other men. Chapter Summary: After taking your cousin’s place you finally reach France and until now nobody realised you’re actually a girl. You decide it’s best to talk as little as possible. Unfortunately, there’s one young soldier who notices your silence and decides it’d be a good idea to keep you company, so you wouldn’t end up feeling alone. Warnings: none Word Count: 3.373 Special Thanks To @rubinstein1798

France looked like a place straight out of a nightmare. You already expected it to be bad, but this was far worse than you imagined. Your mind could run wild with thoughts about what the war looked like. You could make up the most horrifying pictures in your head and yet, as someone who had never walked through an actual war zone, you could never understand it’s true impact. It wasn’t really about what you’ve seen while you were led through the country, sitting in the back of a truck between two boys who looked just as dejected as you. You could tell they were expecting something different, though you couldn’t tell exactly what it was since none of you spoke a single word. And that was exactly what was awful. Not walking or driving past a meadow with dead cows lying in the grass, or houses which were destroyed or simply just abandoned, or even the corpses of men scattered around your feet. What really made you feel quite frightful was the strange feeling in your chest. It was very hard to explain, but it sure was tormenting. It was like a combination of every bad feeling you ever experienced — fear, uncertainty, blame and an odd kind of queasiness. But they all blended together at once, making you feel something inexplicably new. And you sure weren’t the only one going through this painful process of puzzling together thoughts and feelings. It was so very quiet around you.

On the other hand, that was good for you. You needed the others to believe you were a boy and to this point, everything was going well. Besides the fact that right now everybody was still too busy with their own minds, they still believed you were Private Charlie Thompson. The first time someone called out your cousin’s name to reach out to you, you found yourself reacting just a little too late. You were lucky the Sergeant just assumed you were just deep in thought. He only gave you a quick warning to stay attentive and walked on. You had to be careful here, more than anybody else. The boys surrounding you at least had a little training at the barracks before they were sent here, but you? You were scared to accidentally shoot someone with that rifle in your hand, which was a lot heavier than you had imagined. You knew your idea was foolish from the start, but dear lord, you really had no idea what you’d gotten yourself into when you stepped into Charlie’s uniform. And your poor mother, what was she doing right now? Were they going to tell anybody? No, they couldn’t. They must’ve known how much trouble the truth would cause you. There was no going back. You were in France now. And you were going to stay. But to keep up your cover you decided it was best if you talk as little as possible. You weren’t sure if you could make your voice sound deep enough to make it sound like a man’s. Though most boys you’ve met until this point were so young, they didn’t even have their change of voice yet. Still, you decided to keep quiet. Better safe than sorry. And you had a lot to lose.

It was six in the morning. You and the other new soldiers had reached the camp the day before. All you did yesterday was to grab some food and find a comfortable spot to sleep — neither proved to have been easy. It took you some time to find a nice place underneath a tree near the camp. Another Private came along a few minutes later, asking you if he could lay down next to you. He didn’t seem comfortable as he looked back to the camp, so you agreed and he lied down at the other side of the tree. “You’re Charlie, aye? My name’s Henry.” Those were the only words spoken between the two of you. Neither of you were very eager to start a proper conversation. Now it was time for you to get up. You didn’t wake up by yourself. It was Henry who leaned over you, softly touching your arm. He was probably afraid you might get angry at him for waking you up. “Charlie, c’mon, get up. You forgot our command for this morning?” Of course, you didn’t. The General wanted to greet the recruits and he seemed to have more than one appointment today given the fact that you and the others seemed to be his first stop today. “We’ll be late, mate. Now c’mon.” Henry’s hand appeared in front of your face and you took it. He pulled you up and you grabbed your helmet. It was the first time you took a moment to eye up the boy who was now walking next to you. He seemed to be terribly young. You knew he was probably eighteen, but he looked closer to fourteen. It was scary. His eyes were bright blue and there was a little mud on his rosy cheeks, but he didn’t seem to care. A smile appeared on his lips as he turned to look at you. “I saw you actually slept tonight,” he said before laughing softly. “I wanted to talk to you, ‘cause I didn’t sleep at all. But I thought it’d be better to not wake you up.”

“SELLARS, THOMPSON! YOU’RE LATE!” The booming voice of your Captain made you jump. “Shit,” you heard Henry say before he sped up a little. You followed and nearly bumped into him as he stopped at the end of the perfectly ordered queue of soldiers, who were already waiting for the two of you. Great. There were other soldiers around you, who were just grabbing food or having quiet conversations. But some of them were watching you and you could hear them giggle. Good job, (y/n), you thought to yourself as you stood up straight, finally joining the others in their routine. Your Captain seemed to be angry as he stepped closer to you and Henry. “This is your first day,” he raised his voice. “So I’m letting this slip. But next time your tardiness will have consequences. Understood?” “Yes, Sir!” you spoke in unison with Henry. This was your first day and it already felt like a nightmare. You would probably still be asleep if it wouldn’t be for Henry’s courtesy. If you didn’t want to attract any further attention, you needed to put much more effort into it. Right now you studied your fellow recruits to make sure your posture was according to the specifications.

General Erinmore’s visit was short. He gave you a speech about how thankful he was that you’re all here to serve your country, but also to warn you about the dangers and painful sides of war which were ahead of you. He was also talking to some of you personally, but you tried to avoid him as best as possible. Which meant you looked away. Anywhere but in his direction. You should have known better. If there’s one thing that’ll attract attention, it’s trying to avoid it. The older man stepped to the end of the line where you stood and still looked ahead of you, focusing on two boys who were playing chess. But you know you couldn’t just ignore your General, at the latest when he started to speak: “You seem to be nervous, Private. What’s your name?” You gulped. “Thompson, Sir. Charlie Thompson.” Your voice was as low as possible and it seemed to be enough. Well, at least you hoped so. Erinmore showed little reaction to your words. “Well, Thompson, let me give you some advice: you should always look at your superiors. Just like you should always look at your enemies. To look away always makes you seem weak in one way or the other. And you don’t want that, do you? Especially in front of the enemy.” He waited until you shook your head, mumbling a quiet “No, Sir,” under your breath. “Find your courage and find your tongue. You have to be stronger if you want to make it through this hell.” “Of course, General,” you answered fully and finally looked at him. He took your helmet off and sighed. “Those things are likely not going to save you from bullets. This uniform is not going to save you. It’s just you who can keep you safe. The others are counting on you to do that. They need you just as much as you need them. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” Stay alive. Keep others alive as well. Have courage. “Yes, General.” “Good.” Erinmore gave back your helmet, but his gaze wandered to your hair and you couldn’t help but look a little confused as a soft laugh escaped his lips. “Who cut your hair, boy?” he asked, but again you didn’t answer. It didn’t seem to bother him. “I can’t let you walk around like this. Your next command is to go to the hairdresser, alright?” You nodded. Did it really look that bad? You thought you had done quite a good job, but you heard a giggle from Henry which meant he agreed with Erinmore. Damn. The General left and you were searching for your Sergeant’s eyes. As you met them he gave you a slight nod. “Go follow your order, Thompson. Come back to me when you’re done. There are sandbags which have to be filled.” Filling sandbags didn’t sound like an exciting task, but you weren’t complaining. You wouldn’t even if you could. You still had no idea how to use a gun and definitely had to learn it before it was too late. The General told you to stay alive. That’d be an even harder task if you didn’t know how to defend yourself. And just asking the Germans to stop shooting at you for sure wouldn’t do you any good.

You had no idea where to find a hairdresser, so you spend the next minutes aimlessly walking around the camp. You were ready to just give up and ask someone for the way when you finally found the open tend you were searching for. There were three seats. One of them was taken already. Sitting on the right side was a boy who looked like he was close to falling asleep while the older man behind him was cutting his hair with a more than bored expression on his face. You sighed, pretty sure that both of them wouldn’t try to talk to you as long as they didn’t have to. “Sit down, son. I’ll take care of you when I’m done with this one,” was the only thing the hairdresser would probably say to you. You followed his instruction, took off your helmet, your bag and the heavy leather equipment before sitting down on the seat next to the other boy, who didn’t even look at you. Just like you assumed, none of you spoke a word. You let your mind wander as your eyes were scouting the camp. Most people here seemed to be so young. Those weren’t the great and strong men as shown by the advertisement at home. Those were boys. Like the ones from your neighbourhood, the kids you used to play with before the war started. They didn’t belong here. Finley didn’t belong here. You didn’t belong here. You had no idea how you should ever find your brother. All you could do was keep your eyes and ears open. Maybe, just maybe, you would find some clues which would lead you to Finley. Or at least to the truth about his whereabouts.

You were so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even notice the other boy who entered the tent, although he tossed his things right next to yours. It wasn’t until he sat down on the chair next to you that you finally looked at him. You were looking him straight in the eye. It was as if he wanted you to look at him the moment he sat down. Or even before, when he entered the tent. There was a huge grin on his lips. One which irritated you. It looked like he was up to something. But what could he possibly want other than getting his hair done? He surely didn’t come here for you. Perhaps he always looked at others like this. He looked like the only one in the entire camp to be in a good mood. It was probably not easy to keep that up. “Hello,” he finally said while leaning over to you just a little. You backed away. Did he have to come this close? “You were the one coming too late to the General’s visit today, right?” Ah, great. So he did come here to make fun of you. “Sellars or Thompson?” “Thompson,” you answered quietly. He seemed to notice you felt a little uneasy because he leaned back again and nodded. “Happened to me, too, on my first day,” he admitted. “At least you weren’t alone. I was the only one late and I was running through the camp like a madman, I’m telling you. You should have seen. I probably looked like a fool.” “You did.” It was the boy on your left who finally raised his voice. You turned to him and found a slight smile on his face. His eyes were still closed. “Thanks, Dolan. I was just trying to cheer our new friend up. Didn’t need your consent.” “You’re gettin’ it anyway. And for free, Blake.” You couldn’t help but smile. This whole conversation reminded you of your brothers. Blake shook his head, but he was laughing. He didn’t take Dolan’s raillery too seriously. Instead, he leaned back, relaxing his body and finally looked away from you. “Was I right, though?” It took you a moment to realise he was talking to you. “Uhm… what?” “Was I right? Assuming you need someone to cheer you up?” You kept quiet for a moment. He wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t right. You didn’t need anybody to cheer you up. What you did need whatsoever was someone to help you. Someone who could teach you how to use a gun and all that. There was so much more to being a soldier than you thought. But you couldn’t be honest about it now, could you? You were afraid this might blow your cover. You couldn’t be honest. Especially now, while two other people were listening. “You’re done”, you heard the older man speak. Silently you watched Dolan getting up and leaving the tent with a quick ‘thank you’. He didn’t bother looking into the mirror. Why would he? The hairdresser cleaned his seat a little before moving on to you. He clicked his tongue while his fingers ran through your hair. “What kind of idiot cut your hair, boy?” You felt your cheeks heating up. Me. I’m the idiot. But you didn’t tell him. You didn’t even bother to lie about it. You could have said it was your mother, but you didn’t. You kept quiet again.

“You don’t talk a lot, do you?” It was Blake who raised his voice again. You would’ve looked at him, but the older men behind you stopped your head from moving before you even tried. You could feel Blake was looking at you. “Is it because you’re afraid? Because you don’t feel comfortable? Or are you just shy?” He seemed genuinely curious, but he was asking way too many questions. You thought if you didn’t speak you would stay unnoticed, but it seemed it was your silence which attracted Blake’s attention. “I just don’t like talking,” you finally answered. “But that’s not good, you know?” Blake leaned in closer again. This guy didn’t seem to care about personal space too much. It made you nervous. “I mean, maybe this whole thing works out for you at home, but it won’t help you here. You need friends and you won’t find them if you don’t talk to anybody.” You had the chance to shoot him one sceptical look before your head got turned again by the strong hand working on your hair. “What are you? The camp’s motivational coach?” Blake laughed and you could hear a soft snicker from behind you as well. “No. I’m just trying to help,” he stated, suddenly sounding very serious. But it was just for a short moment before he loosened up again. “But I’d be a good motivational coach, don’t you think?” The hairdresser walked around you, now standing right in front of you. You tried to look at Blake and he must have noticed because he leaned forward to appear in your field of vision. His cheeky grin was back again and this time you began to smile as well. “You’re probably a little too intrusive for this job.” “What?!” His voice sounded sorely shocked and it fulfilled his purpose in making you laugh, although you were trying to hide it. “I’m sorry,” you said, still with a bright smile on your face. He narrowed his eyes, watching you closely. Suddenly you felt uneasy again. You didn’t like him looking at you like this. What if he sees? He already noticed you being too quiet. You could tell he was very smart, even though he wasn’t bragging with it. “Well, okay,” he finally spoke as he disappeared out of sight. “I trust your honest opinion, mate. Though I don’t even know your full name.” “It’s Charlie. Charlie Thompson.” “Is it really Charlie? Or is it Charles?” You honestly had to think about his question for a second. “It’s Charles. But nobody calls me that.” “Okay, Charlie. Well, my name’s Tom. Actually, it’s Thomas. But nobody calls me that.” You knew he was grinning again without having to look at him. You could hear it in his voice. “Except for my mom when she’s angry at me.” You smiled, softly shaking your head. It was at this moment, the hairdresser stepped back and took a long look at you. “We’re done as well. Looking much better now, son.” “Thank you very much, Sir,” you said as you got up from your seat. You could feel Tom’s eyes follow your every movement. Was it possible he already figured out the truth? Either way he made you very nervous, even though he probably didn’t even mean to make you feel this way. He was just trying to be nice. To make you feel less alone perhaps? You grabbed your things, taking on your leather equipment as the hairdresser stepped over to Blake. But the boy stood up, waving his hand in refusal. “You know what, Steven? I changed my mind. My hair is perfectly fine.” “No, it isn’t,” Steven stated. “It’s way too long.” Blake’s hair wasn’t actually too long. Not in your opinion at least. You had no idea about army standards, but you could imagine him always walking around looking like this when he was at home. “What? You don’t like my curls?” he asked Steven with a smirk. Said curls were falling onto his forehead. He actually looked kind of cute. You nearly jumped when Tom turned to look at you. Oh God, you were staring. A little too fast you grabbed your back and threw it over your shoulder. Blake stepped closer to take his things as well. “Where are you going now?” “Going to look for the Sarge. Seems like my duty for today is filling sandbags.” “Mine, too!” he exclaimed in excitement. You raised your brows, not sure if he was telling the truth or just said that so he could join you to… Whatever his intentions were. You could not read this boy at all. “No, it’s not the most interesting job. But there are worse, believe me. You’ll know soon enough.” You didn’t react to his words. It seemed like you were not getting rid of this boy so easily. All you could do was to hope he wouldn’t find out about you. You weren’t sure how he’d react and you couldn’t risk getting into trouble just because he couldn’t keep a secret.

#about courage #*#writing #1917 fic #tom blake x reader #1917 #1917 writing #tom blake imagine #tom blake fic #tom blake #there seems to be missing a cut on mobile #whops

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lemonietrinket · 4 years

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The Code ||| Doyoung x Barista!Reader

Part One

Summary: Doyoung has a thing for a barista at the best cafe in town, and after finding out the boss there is super strict, he counts his chances out. However, a bizarre set of events lead to an opening for someone clever enough to take it, and luckily his heart has chosen well. Genre: weak Fluff, Mystery? Drama? Angst Warning(s): Some bad language (1x sh*t, 1x f**k), rejection Word Count: 4271 AN: Thank you so much for 200 followers! I didn’t know what you guys wanted so I decided to write something I promised myself I would never write... a coffee shop au well its actually a cafe but yeah Non-IdolAU too

~~~

The sweet scent of vanilla and coffee engulfed Doyoung as soon as he opened the door of the Averley cafe. Joining the queue, he felt himself leaning round the numerous bodies, his eyes scouring for the main reason why he went out of his way to be a regular there. The cafe was hardly on his main route to work at all, and though it may serve the most divine tasting drinks this argument in itself came into conflict with how popular Averleys was, meaning it was thus always teaming with people—this day being no different. Searching the tables crowded with laughing students, a few families and other workers on their lunch breaks, he put his rocking on his heels to a stop as soon as he noticed he was doing it. The way that the thought of you could make him return to a schoolboy filled with sweet nerves unnerved him, to say the least. Still, within moments he was back at it again, his attention turning to the tills where you had to be serving by deduction alone.

Moving further in the queue, he tried to subtly peer over to the furthest end of the counter after not finding you at the closest end. And, as one more person slipped through the throng with their beautifully fresh smoothie, he was finally able to rest his eyes on you. The low chatter of people died away like it always did when he saw you across the room, with your small but bright smile and swift hands. He thought he would never develop a crush on a barista, or any service worker for that matter, that he met during their shift. He was ninety-percent sure he’d chastised one of the others for even considering asking a waitress out, since it would only add to their troubles. And because that usually they entered a different mode when interacting with customers—their smiles were out of civility and politeness, for example, and it made the whole situation extremely difficult to navigate. And yet here he was, proving himself quite the hypocrite.

However, every time he had the moral tussle of what to do with the jump of his heart he was brought back to the single encounter he’d had with you that could not be accounted for.

It hadn’t been the first time he’d visited, far from it, but it was the first time he’d sat in and ordered a small snack to eat. It was late in the day, not overly near to closing time yet the cafe was surprisingly empty nevertheless. Taeyong had sat opposite him, describing the strange encounter he’d had with Donghyuck no doubt—as this was before his friend had even twigged his developing ‘butterflies’ as he called it, or whatever other saccharine fluff he imagined Doyoung was going through. The younger of the two had barely been listening, mind wandering in an effort to keep his eyes focused away from the counter instead. It was at that moment when their order arrived. Doyoung didn’t even have to look up to know who it was, seeing your fingers out of the corner of his eye as you handed Taeyong’s little muffin to him. He was struck with shame as soon as he acknowledged that he recognised you by your presence alone, but the encounter didn’t end there.

Handing him his drink and food you asked with a gentle lilt (that fit perfectly with the quiet golden sun of the afternoon—not that he would ever admit that to Taeyong) if there was anything else the two were after. It was a customary phrase, he knew, but he managed to glance upwards nonetheless to reply to you.

“We’re good, thank you.” He didn’t like how monotone and disinterested his tone sounded.

He’d met your gaze and was abruptly put at a loss for words again. He couldn’t stop the words forming in his head, ‘so beautiful’. Your smile received a similar reaction too, not that you knew, as you offered him one. It dipped however as you broke his stare quickly and looked out of the crystal clear window. You seemed enraptured by the gold that basked the street, and it wasn’t long before Doyoung followed suit.

“Beautiful afternoon,” you began out of the blue, and it was Taeyong that responded—just as well, Doyoung wasn’t sure he would have even been able to.

“Sure is! Driving in it must be a hell though.”

You nodded, and Doyoung turned back to look at you as you spoke. But this time you didn’t, not right away. You continued to look into the street and watch as a couple walked past, their laughter echoing through the concrete with their arms interlinked. “Just as well I don’t drive then.” It slowly dawned on him that there was a small sadness in your voice.

He spoke up without thinking about it, words spilling from his mouth robotically. “At least you’ll get to walk home in it then.”

Once again your attention settled onto him, and much akin to the first time he didn’t know what the hell to do about it. “Ah, it will be long gone by then,” you explained with a shake of your head, “my shift always does, unfortunately.”

Was this the point of no return for his feelings? Maybe some would argue so. It was certain to Doyoung though that in that moment he wanted you to see and walk in all the sun you wanted, and he hated that your job was timed just so you couldn’t even have a momentary relief. He cut his mental tirade short, confused by just how quickly it all erupted.

Taeyong meanwhile piped up, a frown forming on his features when she wasn’t looking, both he and his friend discerning a similar train of thought, “Could you ask to maybe leave a bit early? It’s pretty empty.”

You clutched at your small tray and thanked him, “But, even though it’s quite empty now, doesn’t mean it won’t be later. Lots of office workers with their shifts finishing in only a little bit, you know?”

Doyoung’s eyes narrowed as he peered round your body to the counter. Seeing no one there he felt a surprisingly sly smile form on his lips. “Or you could just go outside real quick right now?”

You stared at him dumbfoundedly. “I-I can’t! I’m working!”

“Say you’re taking a call!” Taeyong suggested, smile bright.

You looked sheepish for a few moments, glancing over your shoulder before leaning in to them both. “I really want to, really! But I don’t have my phone. It’s in my bag and...”

Within seconds and with his subconscious yelling at him as to what he was doing, Doyoung procured his own phone and held it out to the person that made his heart pound, no less. “Use mine, just pretend.”

You glanced at him, then the phone, then out of the window and back to him. He couldn’t begin to imagine the confusion whirling through your head, because only a shade of it appeared in your widened eyes.

“We’ll cover for you if anyone comes back,” he said with a shrug. He couldn’t believe how nonchalant was being.

It wasn’t long before you accepted the phone with a laugh. You stifled it immediately, before ducking in one last time to whisper, “I promise I won’t touch it. And trust me, no one is coming back for a while.” And with that and a knowing look, you skipped off outside, the phone rather prematurely by your ear and your back turned to the glass so anyone who wasn’t aware would be none the wiser.

The way you stepped into the sun and instantly relaxed in posture made pride swell in Doyoung’s already bursting heart. As you turned ever so slightly to face the light like a sunflower he caught the sight of a truly radiant smile. He was just satisfied to make you smile and feel even the slightest bit relieved of stress. When you smiled, he let himself smile, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from you has you trotted along the pavement with a stretch. Now that he thought about it, this was probably the moment that Taeyong realised something was up. He’d probably been looking at you with adoration written all over his face, and the realisation of such made it heat up even now.

He supposed that the memory of helping a girl who peculiarly just really wanted to take some time in the sun would have stuck with him in normal circumstances, but since it was you it carried so much more weight. Especially when you returned after a humble five minutes, his phone carefully in hand and still no other staff member in sight.

“Thank you so much!” you murmured as you came over to their tableside again. “I really needed that.”

It was this part of the memory that struck him so clearly and made his breath hitch, no matter how many times he scoured over it in his head.

You cradled his phone in your hands shyly, and through your words you only glanced up at them both. Your eyes were instead mainly focused upon the phone, and after a momentary silence, you turned to him more specifically. Doyoung had stiffened in his seat, praying you didn’t notice, just as you hoped he didn’t notice how your lips opened and closed, words failing to formulate.

“You’re very sweet,” you eventually said, hastily adding, “for letting me to use your phone,” before you handed it back simply.

There was no accidental brush of fingers as you returned it to him, no meeting of eyes or any further discussion on the matter. Doyoung was just overwhelmed with an inclination that you hadn’t said all you’d wanted to say. It was this feeling that trickled into his plan now, and was his only real crest of hope.

Sinking back into reality, he found he’d moved forward exponentially, and he could finally see you through the mildly thinned bundle of people.

You looked no different to that day two weeks ago, your eyes still glimmering and your gentler charisma easing small talk out of even the shyest of customers. On this occasion it was a young high school student that you were smiling at. She was reeling off a particularly specific order, he could tell by how she got her hands involved, but you nodded simply and began to prepare it. Doyoung was always in a state of awestruck when he saw you just doing your job. Averley’s was the best cafe in the city hands down but the finesse really showed in you. You seemed to have a genuine love for your job, or if it wasn’t that then it was definitely the determination to do it properly and to do it well. [maybe some more here]

He was brought back to reality by a shove on his back. Doyoung couldn’t hide the irritation in his face; the queue had moved forward, sure, but there was no need to get pushy. That expression quickly turned to one of masked guilt as he realised the person who had reminded him to nudge up was actually his closest friend, Taeyong. That he’d totally forgotten was there. He cursed his trembling heart.

He was squashed right into him because a burly man that could easily have been a bodybuilder right behind and taking up quite the portion of space in the frighteningly small shop and it meant neither were impressed by how out of it he was.

“Stay with us, Romeo,” Taeyong teased, poking his ribcage and chuckling at the scowl that followed the judder he received. “You know I’m the least of your worries right? Look.” He jerked his head across the counter. Doyoung immediately glanced up, only to be admonished for not waiting and making it subtle, but nevertheless spotting the subject that easily made him despair. Because, despite the memory he held fondly of you and all his awe, it was still tarnished by how your boss was right there watching you and your colleagues at pretty much all times. You’d risen to perfection because you’d had to. He meanwhile hoped that the pay was worth it, and interrogated himself as to how he managed to not notice the stone-faced woman before.

She was right there! Stood rigid by the doorway into the kitchen, her service-smile on full display but her hawk eyes entrained on her workers at every stray moment. She made brief eye contact with him as her stare lifted away from his accidental crush and Doyoung felt himself wither in confidence.

“I mean, we thought Manager Park was bad but, get a load of that,” Taeyong murmured as soon as he’d looked away again.

Doyoung only frowned distastefully. “Don’t…” he trailed off, his little plan faltering in his head. He didn’t want to hear any more. He already was fully aware of the odds stacked against him anyway, ignoring Averleys’ strict work policy. He didn’t want to hear it so much that he opted to just zone out again from his friend’s words as Taeyong began to mention another bunch of potholes. He gazed over to you as you finished up the student’s drink.

To his surprise, he watched you take a glance over your shoulder towards your hawk of a boss. As soon as she was distracted—talking to an older man who she clearly knew and welcoming him to the shop from over the counter—you moved even more swiftly than you had done just moments before, slipping an extra chocolate swirl into the drink’s whipped cream and passing it over to the client with a quick finger to your lips.

“On the house,” you appeared to say, though that was what he assumed through lip reading, before—right in front of his eyes—you returned to being the perfect barista just as your manager returned her eyes to the front lines.

Caught up in his own head again about how kind you were, he didn’t register how the student in front was the only customer between him and you. And how it was his turn.

“Hi, what can I do you for?”

Your voice brought him back again, though much more abruptly than before. He stood dumbly as he regained his wits, only really being able to focus upon the recognition in your eyes and the pretty curls of your lips and how your hair graced the slope of your—

The time was upon him, there would be plenty of time to stare in wonder later. If he didn’t get a restraining order and booted from the cafe entirely, that is.

He nervously regarded the lurking boss in his peripheral and panicked, even though she wasn’t looking in his direction at that moment. This was going to go badly, he could feel it in his bones. He’d imagined all of those extra details, exaggerated her pauses, saw only what he wanted to see—

“Can I have a matcha tea, please?” his mouth said for him, and he was just grateful to not look as much of an idiot as he could have done.

“Of course, the usual,” you affirmed with a grin, turning your back to head to the machines.

‘It’s now or never,’ he thought to himself carefully.

He took a deep breath, ignoring the barrage of thoughts that at that moment all argued that there would be plenty of other times that would follow, and cleared his throat.

“Hey, I don’t want to cause you any trouble,” he began, as soon as you turned round with his undecorated drink in hand. Seeing your widened eyes searching his he very nearly crumbled; somehow though, he persevered, “I was just wondering if I could get your number?”

You placed his drink onto the counter with an unusual weight, and in his moment of nerves Doyoung couldn’t decipher a single one of the mix of emotions that slipped through your polite facade.

You blinked at him, your breath hitching in your throat as you ducked your head unsteadily towards the till. Ringing up his order with feather-light fingers, he realised—and with little surprise—that the result was not in the realms of success.

Desperate to try and make you feel less uncomfortable and also save any mess that would follow, he scrambled to cover, “It’s ok if you don’t want to! It’s your decision, I would never...” It was at that moment that his eyes trailed back across to where your boss lurked, and he immediately regretted giving into the anxious urge to check because of course she was now watching like a hawk, a stony glare centred on his face.

Doyoung wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

“I-I’m sorry,” you eventually said, a sigh in your voice and an apologetic expression on your features, “I... I can’t, it wouldn’t...”

The need to escape grew too heavy for him to bear, and he couldn’t stand the sight of the mess he’d caused—he hated how upset he’d made you, he hated how he may get you in trouble with your boss, and he hated how he knew that even after all this, he still wouldn’t be able to get over you for quite some time. He wished he didn’t fall as hard.

“It’s ok, I’m sorry for causing you trouble,” he rushed, handing over probably what was way too much money and accepted his drink carefully, “keep the change, and... have a good day!”

And with that he scarpered, the gaze of everyone in the room burning into his already searing skin. He tried to keep himself cool, smiling politely at the elderly lady who passed through as he held the door open for her, before finally reaching the fresh air of the outside world. However he could still smell the vanilla over the air from behind him, and so he began to walk aimlessly away from the shop. He had a while left before he had to get to work, but with the embarrassment of before he was more than willing to head in strangely early.

Truth be told, his prevailing thoughts were surrounding the guilt he felt of causing you problems. He had kind of expected a rejection anyway, after all you didn’t know him and really neither did he know you. He wanted to learn more about you, yes, to explore why and how you enraptured his attentions so easily, and to see if there could be even more in store for you and him. But he never wanted to do that at your expense. You were a good worker, and he loathed the fact he may have just put your job on the line out of a single act of selfishness on his behalf. He should have took Taeyong’s words into more account, because that boss would never let anything slip through like that at the very least.

“Shit.”

His legs brought him to a public bench which he immediately perched on the edge of, too wracked with left over anxiety and guilt to even consider being comfortable. He really hoped he hadn’t walked too wildly far in his thought-riddled stupor, and he cursed again when he remembered how he’d basically abandoned Taeyong.

Just as he was about to fish out his phone to text him, the man in question turned up, skipping down the pavement in some strange half-jog half-run.

“There you are!” he cried as he spotted him, coming to a shuffled stop in an effort to preserve his drink. “I called out to you in there but you blanked me.”

“I’m sorry,” Doyoung sighed, genuinely meaning it but more so to the image of you that preoccupied his head.

Plopping down on the cold wrung iron, Taeyong shuddered as he joined him on the bench. Sipping his drink as he analysed his friend’s frown gingerly, he finally spoke up, “Well, I don’t think you did too badly in the circumstances.”

Doyoung groaned, “Don’t, I really messed up. She’s going to lose her job because of me. I should have just left it—”

“That’s the garbage your spiral was fuelling this time?” he sputtered a laugh. “Ah, Doie you’re so melodramatic.”

“How am I being dramatic?! You said her boss was crazy!”

“She is, but she’s not stupid—your precious Juliet is a valuable asset at her job no doubt, so she wouldn’t fire her over something so trivial,” Taeyong explained, nodding as if it would help prove his point, “besides she followed workplace policy and carried on working perfectly pretty much right after so what can the woman say?”

Doyoung shook his head wordlessly.

“Don’t give me that look, Doie, sometimes a bit of optimism doesn’t hurt,” he continued to explain despite the disbelief in his friend’s eyes, “you’ve got to have faith in the world sometimes, you know? Like...” Taeyong suddenly shifted across the bench, wincing as he left his warm spot, to murmur in Doyoung’s scarlet-tipped ear, “...how Juliet only began to pretend as if nothing happened after a few seconds of watching you leave with the saddest eyes I’ve seen not on you...!”

The younger of the two sighed, though he couldn’t deny the tiny spark that illuminated in his chest at the words. Maybe there was a chance you’d only said no because of your boss after all? Still, it remained that nothing could change either way. You’d turned him down, the respectful thing to do would be to keep his distance, and let you be. Besides, the situation was so sticky to manoeuvre, the likelihood of there being a happy ending were so slim.

Doyoung suddenly realised these words were the exact same ones he’d said to another. While wracking his brain for who he’d said them to, he nudged Taeyong away with his shoulder. “You do know that Romeo and Juliet die at the end, right?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s still a great love story.”

“Are you insinuating that this is going to end as catastrophically?”

“Would you rather Bella and Edward?”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

It was then that Doyoung remembered. It had been the new intern that had confided in his feelings for a waitress, Mark. Taeyong had referred to the two of them in the same way, and had encouraged him to be careful but maybe take the chance. It had seemed likely that she liked him back, to him, so it was worth a shot. And then he’d turned around and warned him about the dangers of it.

“It would only add to her troubles,” he’d said, “working in the service industry is hard, and because of the emotion work required, it makes it really hard to identify if either side is being genuine. It can become so sticky to manoeuvre, and the likelihood of there being a happy ending is so slim.”

He hadn’t thought too much of how Mark’s youthful face fell at the time. The boy had nodded, and so he figured he understood and though it was painful, it was a lesson he had to learn. Now he himself was on the experiencing end, Doyoung regretted how easily he’d brushed him aside. He should have managed his tone more, at least tried to be comforting.

Still, the situation didn’t change his mind. In fact, it just strengthened his argument. These things never ended well, and it was best to let them go. Though that was the hard part.

He took a sip of his matcha, and didn’t even wince at the heat as he stared at the wall of the shop opposite. Mark’s internship had finished a while ago, as he’d had a change of heart—or is parents had—and he’d been able to work in music like he’d wanted to. Maybe it was time to check in and see how he was doing.

Meanwhile, with your back turned to the winding queue, your head dipped into being completely vacant before flipping back to being filled with bundles of thoughts.

You’d barely been able to get any words out over the sound of your heart that continued to beat impatiently. And the man’s request some time before remained lodged in your heart. Never had you thought you would be able to feel so elated and yet so torn apart at once. It had meant he was as intrigued by you as you were by him, and deciding to pass over the considerations of whether he’d caught you staring, you decorated the hot chocolate with marshmallows and handed it to your colleague to serve.

But there was no way you could have accepted his offer so blatantly like that. It made you wonder if he had been completely unaware of your predicament, and that in itself led to a spiral of doubt. Perhaps he wasn’t what you’d first thought and concluded. Maybe you’d made up the intelligent and witty glint in his eyes because it was what you were after. Maybe you’d misinterpreted his kindness and missed a number of red flags, just blinded by how damn beautiful he was.

“Hi, welcome to Averleys, what can I get for you?” Your voice was distant and so was your smile, you were too busy indulging yourself with the picture in your head of his. His gummy smile was so sweet, so soft, and you’d immediately wanted to be the reason behind it once you saw it for the first time. Maybe that was all this was, Y/N L/N, blinded by the idealisation of a stranger.

You hoped it didn’t have to end here.

~~~

AN: ok so this was supposed to just be posted in one go but as its taking some time ive decided to split it into two parts (maybe three but im not convinced i guess we’ll see)

Part Two — coming soon

Masterlist

#doyoung nct #doyoung x reader #doyoung fluff #doyoung x reader fluff #doyoung x reader coffee shop au #coffee shop au #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct x reader coffee shop #doyoung coffee shop au #doyoung angst #doyoung mystery #doyoung x barista!reader #doyoung fanfic #nct fanfic #doyoung x reader angst #nct angst #nct x reader angst

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johannstutt413 · 4 years

Text

(Requested by anonymous) - Meant to queue this but I’m on my phone so...oh well!

The Doctor was going through a stack of reports when a familiar-as-of-late face stepped through his door. “Excuse me, Doctor, but...I was informed I need to complete my regular medical examination today.”

“Today?” He looked at the calendar and clock behind him. “Time has gone by a lot faster than I expected, then. Alright, well, that certainly takes priority over the busywork in front of me right now. Care to walk to the exam room together?”

“Yes...They won’t ask to speak with me if we go together.” Reed waited for him outside his door, her tail gliding along the ground and her heart-stone glowing in time with her breathing. Once he’d gathered the few things he couldn’t leave in his office, the Doctor stepped out and walked with her to the exam room slightly ahead of her.

All things told, Reed hadn’t been with RI for very long - a couple of months at most by this point - but as the Doctor was the only physician she trusted outside of Sussurro, who performed her initial examination and was available when the Doctor himself wasn’t, he’d gotten to know her rather quickly from a medical standpoint. More than anyone else in RI, he could relate to the experience of being plucked from a battlefield into the test-tube that was Rhodes Island’s treatment facilities, and he was more than willing to help her adapt to her new environment...Unfortunately, she’d been rather reluctant to do so. Whatever secrets she couldn’t reveal to the others, Reed was adamant - or at least as adamant as her natural soft-spokenness would allow - that she be left alone by most other Operators.

Which only made his position something to cherish all the more.

Once they were in the exam room, the Doctor locked the door behind him and started a recording. “July 25th, 1213 pm. Regular physical examination of Operator Reed. Good afternoon, Miss Reed.”

“Good afternoon.” Her heart-stone’s pulse was accelerating, but that was normal. Whenever she was alone with someone, from his observations, she was more nervous, and the necessity of recording worsened it.

“Alright, let’s start with the simple things.” He looked over his checklist. “You’ve kept up with the self-care treatments?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

The Doctor smiled. He could tell she had. “You haven’t been in the field for some time, but have you used your Arts in a training setting?”

“Monday, yes, but no other point in the week.”

“Good, good,” he nodded. “Have you noticed any strong crystal growth in a particular area?”

Reed blushed. “Um...I have, actually. My back feels tougher than last week.”

“Okay, so we’ll start there. Anything else you’ve noticed?”

“Some of the crystals seem to be receding.” She took a deep breath in and out. “The ones that were forming in my chest are gone - I haven’t had any issues breathing since my last exam.”

The Doctor frowned. “That’s rather strange, but your case has never been completely straightforward. Is there anything else you want to mention, Oripathy-related or otherwise, regarding your current physical health?”

“Not at this time?”

“I’ll accept that.” He set down his checklist and put on a pair of tear-resistant gloves. “Alright, now for the exam proper...Before we begin, are you sure you don’t want Sussurro to do this part? I’m legally required to ask if you want a same-sex doctor to perform this procedure.”

Reed looked him in the eye. “I prefer when you do it, Doctor.”

“Alright...” She always insisted on that, which, well, if the Doctor was honest with himself, it complicated things rather massively. There were portions of the exam he simply couldn’t perform as well because of the awkwardness he felt, no matter how much of him insisted it was entirely clinical.

“Can I make a request regarding today’s exam?” She asked, breaking him out of his thoughts as she disrobed. “Well, I have a request and several questions.”

The Doctor nodded; he wasn’t quite mentally prepared to start yet. “Sure.”

“Before I do, though...I need you to stop the recording.”

“Um, I’m not sure I can do that.” He knew he shouldn’t, actually. “Legal concerns, you understand.”

Reed sighed. “Never mind, then.”

“...Pause recording.” The machine stopped itself. “Reed, why do you need to ask this off the record?”

“It’s not completely about the examination...Doctor, why do you try not to look at me while examining me?”

Shit. “I...I have a duty to perform as a medical professional, but I’m still not used to caring for female patients the same way I might, say, Flamebringer, if her ever came into the clinic...”

“Would it help if you had my consent?” Reed’s heart-stone was beginning to smoke.

“Your consent?” His brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”

She sat up straight, taking on a strangely regal character even with most of her attire thrown into a chair next to the examination table. “My body temperature doesn’t hurt you, and I...I like when you touch me. There have been times I wondered...if I could ask you to do it outside of an examination.”

“As a medical professional, that violates the ethical agreement I made-”

“Then I ask you directly.” Reed stepped off the table. “I know it makes your work more difficult to not be able to approach me...but you have nothing to fear from me, Doctor. If your mind wanders, if your heart skips a beat, or even if you find me...my condition repulsive...”

He sighed, setting his head in his hands. “This company, I swear...Reed, you are impossibly beautiful, and I can’t focus on my work if I look at you for too long. I also don’t think your insistence about your giving me consent justifies me using work hours for more personal interaction...But.”

“But?” She watched him carefully, waiting for him to restore her hope. He had called her beautiful, after all.

“Tell me one thing, before I follow this line of thought any further.” The Doctor looked back at her, all of her, ignoring his more polite notions but not giving into anything more immediate. “If I can no longer act as your primary physician because of this change in our relationship, and the only way for me to continue seeing you is something more legally binding, will you agree to it?”

Reed smiled. “Doctor, if you had a ring, I would ask for it right now.”

“I...I suppose that answers that question.” Now he knew the universe was out to get him.

“So, Doctor?” She took a tentative step towards him, then another, and a third more confident than the other two as she felt his gaze on her. “Will you be able to look at me during our exams?”

The Doctor wiped the sweat from his brow before nodding. “Yes.”

“And later today, after work...will you let me return the favor?”

“Ahhh...” If you could actually get a nose bleed from being aroused, he’d certainly be in danger of one. “Um...You know what? I’m sick of pretending at this point. Why not right now?”

Reed closed the distance. “You mean it?”

“The room’s reserved, and we both seem to have reached a breaking point...And if we do get in trouble, it won’t be for me taking advantage of you in a moment of weakness or whatever other accusations might be leveled at me...”

“Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around him, his chin resting on her breast. “I won’t have to worry about your being gentle, but rest assured...I will not be so forceful with you again. I just...”

He let his hands do as they willed, which meant settling below her waist, as he let go of the last holdout of his willpower and kissed her mid-thought. This was a dangerous game they were playing, but the Doctor was not one to lose a gambit...and for the chance to show Reed the affection she so clearly craved, any risk was fair.

#arknights #reed (arknights)#so like i said #reed is super pretty #and her whole thing is super tragic #part of me connected her and Blue #cuz one’s got rumors about being untouchable #and the other might actually be #and then there’s her third pre-trust/promo dialogue #so...yeah #apparently we do actually doctor #never saw that coming #arknights fic

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infinitum-imaginaerum · 5 years

Note

S.17 for Mingyu thanks :)

Mingyu | S.17 “Oh, my god. Do that again.”

Words | 7,100

Warnings | Dom!Mingyu, Daddy!Mingyu, slight choking, over-stimulation, slight rough play, idk what else to tag this I went hard okay.

Notes | Probably one of the kinkier things I’ve written to date??? He jumped out at me I don’t know okay??? I really don’t. It’s 5:26 am and I’m queueing this. Just… I surprised myself. Please check the status of the game in the description of my blog!

Send a bias, a section, and a number and I’ll write you a thing!

Typically, a girls-night-out was a good time when you hit up the bar you and your friends normally went to. The bartenders and most of the wait-staff knew all of you by name since back in the day you made it a weekly thing—a pact amongst the four of you that you would take a break from your busy lives to go out every Friday night. It had been a while since your group last went out, but most of you had gotten new jobs and new boyfriends and new responsibilities that needed more attention than getting buzzed and partying.

It was pretty common around this place for girls to be dancing on girls, and a lot of guys kind of liked that, especially once they knew that all of you were mostly straight. It never stopped any one of you from protecting a sister in trouble by pretending to be her lesbian lover in order to try and get guys to leave you alone—it worked for the most part. But that didn’t stop the four of you from gathering your drinks and heading to the dance floor, squished tightly together as you all danced to the beat.

You were one of the two in the middle of your four-person grind-line, laughing and hollering, overall just having a good time while you sipped your drinks, splitting up before long to continue in your own personal bubble before one of your friends had mentioned a pair of eyes on you that had been peeping you the whole night.

Discreetly, you followed the end of her pinky finger, pointed off her glass as she took a sip, targeting a tall, broad man who was, perhaps, rather familiar to you.

“I think that’s Mingyu? From high school? Damn, he’s filled out nicely,” she commented. There was a rumor going around back then that the two of you were sleeping together, but in all honesty, you barely even talked to him back then. Sure, you were acquaintances, but you definitely weren’t sleeping with him.

He sat at the bar by himself, in a particularly revealing medium gray suit sipping an old fashioned. The friend who had pointed you out caught you from staring too long, eyes captivated particularly around his exposed clavicle, a sterling silver choker around his neck. His eyes were definitely on you as you gave him a pretty quick once over, turning around with the coaxing, “You’re staring.”

One of your other friends had joined you, barely looking over your shoulder to look at him inconspicuously.

“Didn’t you guys used to sleep together?”

Your eyes almost rolled out of your head, shifting your weight from both legs to your right, swinging your hips.

“How many times do I have to say that was just—”

“Shut! Up!” the friend who asked you interrupted; the shut up sarcastic and not directed at you, but it definitely got you to shut up. “Sorry, not you. He’s definitely checking you out.”

“I’ve been telling her that all night, but it seems like you’ve got some confirmation?” your other friend asked. She nodded in response, slowly.“Shift to your other leg,” she said.

“What?”

“Shift. To. Your. Other. Leg,” she demanded, raising her eyebrows with every word. “Sassily, like you just did rolling your eyes at me? Hello?” she explained, but not very well—either way, it got the point across and you shifted your weight from your right leg to your left.

“Oh, girl! He’s liking the look of that ass in that dress!” the first friend squealed, having noticed the way Mingyu’s teeth abused his full bottom lip when you shifted from one leg to the other. Though the distance was far, he had a straight shot to you and your group.

“You may have not slept with him back then, but he’s wishing you had!”

“Oh, look at that, your drink is gone” the second friend commented, taking your quarter full gin and tonic from your hand to smoothly dance away with it. Your mouth fell open, agape at her totally ludicrous actions—intentionally stealing your drink with the sole intent of making you walk up to the bar to order another right in front of Mingyu.

With a hard swallow, you tugged at the high hem of your spaghetti strap silver cocktail dress. You were definitely dressed to be looked at, strappy silver heels to match your glittering sequin dress, a low neckline which clasped as a loop in the front at you’re the hollow of your neck, a dangling chain trailing down with the intention of drawing eyes to your cleavage and suddenly you were feeling very self-conscious. Despite that, you weren’t about to stand out there without a drink and let them continue to tease you, so you gathered your confidence and began your route to the bar.

“Ooh, get him, girl!” one of your friends encouraged to herself, but the others were supportive as they sunk into the crowd to watch you.You stepped right in front of him, your heels almost silently clicking against the hardwood floor, pretending as if you didn’t recognize him from the get-go.

“Excuse me,” you asked politely, squeezing between Mingyu and the man in the stool next to him as you leaned to the bar to order another drink. The bartender, a close friend of yours and your friends, looked at you skeptically. “She stole it, so I have to get another,” you laughed comfortably as she began pouring your drink.

Mingyu’s eyes were drinking you in, the curves of your body he could see as you stretched a bit to lean to the bar. The curve of your back was almost in his lap, your right leg grazing his knee as he hadn’t turned far enough to give you enough room. You could feel his eyes burning your skin anywhere he looked, so you turned your head just a bit to check his face until he was looking at your face again, and immediately your gaze shot away.

“Her drink is on me,” he offered, alerting the bartender.

“You don’t have to do that,” you replied, turning to face him.

“I don’t have to, but if it will keep you around for a little bit, I don’t mind,” he purred. You were impressed, your entire outfit was geared to have eyes running all over your body, but his gaze was fixed on your face.

“The same Mingyu I always knew you were,” you laughed, turning back to the bar to take your drink.

“Ahh, I knew I recognized you from somewhere,” he replied, adding your name on the end which had you nodding. “You certainly have come into your own since high school.”

“I could say the same about you,” you replied, teasingly reaching forward to softly touch against his left thigh with your right hand, your eyes grazing back down his face and to the openness of his suit jacket which dipped low on his torso, the tanned sliver of skin teasing you relentlessly before turning your gaze back to him, giving him a sultry look.

He drew the corner of his lip between his teeth, abusing it a little more as he let his eyes wander down your slender throat to the necklace that took his eyes down, but he made sure to not stare too long as he pinpointed the spot on your hip his fingers hesitated to touch. His legs spread a little wider in your direction, a typical move to try and bring you in.

“I’m not going to lie, I was definitely copping a peek, before I knew who you were,” he admitted. At least he was the honest type. But you had the intention—since you were already here—of teasing him even further.

“What? Now that you know who I am, I’m not good enough for you?” you asked, stepping into his spread legs to put you right where he wanted you. A grin tugged at his lips.

“I didn’t say that. I just know your friends sent you over here because they caught me red-handed,” he replied, a little huskily, his previously tentative left hand gaining enough courage to take your right hip, which you pushed into. Because you had pushed your hip forward into his grip, the outside of your leg grazed the inside of his; he was shifting in his seat.

“How can you not stare at someone you previously slept with, right?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink. Your index finger traced the line of his chest down the cut of his jacket.

He laughed nervously, letting you flood his mind with the memory of the torture that came with that rumor. It wasn’t that either of you were undeserving of each other back then, but it was back then, and the two of you hardly knew each other. How the rumor came up, neither of you really knew, but neither of you ever lived it down.

“I’d give you a much better time now than I would have back then,” he replied, having shaken the nervousness to regain some confidence as his hand slipped around to your back, tugging you further between his legs by the small of it.

“Got a little experience under your belt, now?” you teased.

“Ha, ha, that’s so funny,” he mocked, rolling his eyes, his right hand leaving his drink to trace your necklace, taking the solitary chain to run it between his fingers, sliding the back of his fingers down the cut of your dress, drawing goosebumps out onto your skin.

“Maybe I just have a good idea what makes you tick.”

You granted him a gentle sigh, his words honestly getting to you just a little bit. You couldn’t blame the booze-goggles on making you think Mingyu was attractive, because hot damn, he was. You were hardly inebriated, one and three quarter drinks in over three hours.

“You must think I’m really easy,” you fired back, turning your tactic to play hard to get, even while teasing him with your gentle touches. Maybe you just wanted him begging for you to take him home. Maybe you just wanted to have a little fun, but maybe you really did want him to put his body on yours and see how weak he could make you.

“Not at all. The way I see this going, if it goes, is I’m going to say or do something that gets you asking me to come dance with you. That’s when I’ll find out what really drives you crazy. You’re much more of a puzzle, I don’t doubt it will take a bit of experimenting,” he told you, sliding that left hand down over the curve of your rear to pull you in even further. His hot breath was on your collar, your hand flat against that teasing sliver of tanned skin.

“I think you’re a sucker for guys in dress pants, first of all,” he uttered, his lips almost against your neck and your head was slightly lulling for him. “That, or you’re trying to judge how big I am.”

You could feel the blush tinge your cheeks. He’d caught you periodically looking down at his crotch when you thought you were being sneaky. He reeled back from your neck to look at you, his hand back up to the small of your back.

“Then, I hope you’re a grower, because even though the entire point of dress pants is to make you look flat, I haven’t seen anything impressive, yet.”

“I would agree with you, if your hands and eyes weren’t begging to get this jacket off me,” he teased further, his right hand having slithered back to his drink to take a swig.

“I don’t know how it’s even fair when you don’t even wear a shirt underneath, and wear a shimmering silver chain around your neck, you’re begging for eyes to be all over your chest.”

“The choker gets you hot, doesn’t it?” he growled. “I’d love for those pretty little lips to be all over my neck.”

You hated the way he was getting to you. This was supposed to be about you being in control, about you pulling him around, about you deciding where this was going to go, not him. But his words, his directness was making you so hot between the legs. If you were any less in your right mind, the two of you were sitting perfectly for you to slip right over his thigh.

The hazy look in his eyes when he looked at you after teasing your lips had a growl bubbling in your throat. His head lulled back, revealing all of that slender neck to you. Your jaw clenched, pheromones swirling around you, your right hand gripping the top of his left thigh as you tried to restrain sinking your teeth into his gorgeous skin and the veins and tendons that lined it.

“Ooh, you’re getting desperate,” he whispered to you, lifting his head back upright to catch your eyes.

“You want to play, Kim Mingyu?” you asked.

“More than anything, darling,” he teasingly begged you, brow drawing together as if you were denying him basic human needs.

“Then let’s play,” you dared, stepping out from between his legs to take yourself and your drink back into the crowd, turning to slither between people, pleading him to chase after you.

Mingyu chuckled, finishing the rest of his drink and the cherry garnish before he left the bar, his tall frame on your path. The thrill of this game was pumping adrenaline through him, the chase was on. It was even more exhilarating that you could be literally anywhere. It couldn’t have been too hard to find you since you were wearing a beacon of a dress, silver sequins reflecting every light imaginable.

It was proving to be more difficult than he thought, but it was easy for you as you kept eyes on his back, following a few feet behind him. He would never find you if you were behind him at all times. The broadness of his shoulders in his suit jacket looked absolutely delightful, the fit of his dress pants teasingly sinful as they fit tight over his strong thighs. His head of light brown hair called for your hands as you stared at the back of it. You were so distracted by him that you didn’t have enough time to hide by the time he turned around, trapping you in his sights like a deer in headlights.

The whimper that fell from your mouth the way he looked at you was almost embarrassing. His eyes weren’t lust-filled, but like he had just spotted the target of his hunt. You stood there, unable to move until he was basically in front of you, and only then did you turn to try and dash away—a bit too late.

You sighed when his large hands took your hips to pull you back into him and your right arm rose to take the back of his neck as he leaned over your shoulder. Instead of saying what you thought he was going to say, about catching you, he didn’t say anything. He just let his warm breath beat against your neck as he moved the two of you to the rhythm, your drink circling in your left hand. His hips were pushed tightly into yours, hands sliding down the front of your thighs to the hem of your dress, fingertips teasing the soft skin beyond its boundary.

“Mingyu,” you sighed.

“Calling my name, already?” he uttered back, teasing your neck with his soft, warm lips as he spoke. “I would have thought that I would have to get you home for that reward.”

It was torture enough that you couldn’t see him, but you were well aware of his presence, his entire front pressed against your back, hands all over your hips and legs—anything he could touch, he did. A soft sigh fell from his lips when your fingers furled in his hair, tugging it gently when he was getting you too good. You were dying to turn around, to have your hands all over him, to feel the slip of his thigh between your legs. Even further, you were getting to the point where you wanted to be hotly lip-locked with him, to be headed home with him, to be pushing his jacket onto your bedroom floor.

“Do you want me to turn you around?” he rasped into your ear, as if he was able to read your mind.

“Please,” you begged.

For a fraction of a second, his hands left your hips to spin you around to face him, and just like you anticipated, he slipped his warm, muscular thigh between your legs, coaxing your drink from your hand while his other hand entertaining your hip, thumb tracing your hipbone to drive you wild. Your right hand rested on his shoulder, the other against his hot chest even as you leaned away from each other.

Now that you were able to look into his eyes, you didn’t want to look anywhere else. They were hazy, dark brown, and half-lidded, looking at you almost as if you were torturing him. You were sure that your eyes were much the same, barely able to feel his hot breath against your face while you looked at him almost desperately. His hand slipped away from your hip and around to your back, tracing his finger up your spine from tailbone to shoulders to bring your body into his. He’d found one of your ticks, the area from tailbone to the small of your back. At least now, you were about on the same playing field. You were getting to him; you only knew because you could feel him pressing into your abdomen.

Hot, it was so hot. You could hardly breathe, your skin breaking with a slight sheen of sweat as you danced with Mingyu. His lips looked so soft, so supple, and you could imagine how glorious they felt on your skin, the fantasy getting to you as your head lulled back.

You half expected him to ask, but Mingyu struck you as the type to just take what he wanted—his lips were soft on your neck peppering it with hot, open-mouthed kisses, coaxing your hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck. The scent of your perfume filled his airways, driving him even wilder than he already was. His right hand almost dropped your drink, his left reeling you in tightly, the grinding becoming a little sloppy, but you couldn’t have worried too much about that anymore.

“This tiny dress would look so nice on your bedroom floor,” he growled to you, kissing down your neck, over your collar and lower to follow the cut of the neckline. You were a panting mess for him already, hand carding through his hair.

“Right there next to your jacket and your pants,” you sighed back to him, eliciting a hungry hum into your skin.

He pulled away for a moment. You wanted to protest, but his gentle fingers on your chin shut you up just a moment before his lips were on yours. He groaned into your mouth, as if he had been waiting for this for such a long time, his body melting into yours. You were jelly in his hands, his warm tongue velvet against yours. He kissed you hard, cupping your jaw to direct the kiss to his advantage, only to kiss you again and again before you were protesting with a hand against his searing chest.

“Take me home before we don’t make it,” you breathed, your eyes on his mouth until his lips met yours again, an eager swipe of his tongue against yours before he grabbed your hand to take you to the bar to pay the bills before he whisked you out into the parking lot and into the passengers’ seat of his car. When he plopped into the driver’s side, he took your lips again. Your right hand was in his hair, the other tugging at his jacket while his pulled at your hips and legs.

“Focus, baby boy,” you breathed, but didn’t want him to stop as his lips trailed back down your neck, over all of the exposed skin he could reach, his panting breaths against your body as he groaned, trying to pull away despite how much he didn’t want to. But he situated himself in his seat and threw his seat belt on, starting the car. The engine roared to life as he punched in your address.

It was a ways away, and Mingyu was getting impatient. His touch against your thigh was getting rougher and higher.

“Damn, I want you so bad,” he laughed, fingers teasing the inside of your thigh as he looked over to you for a moment, watching you drag his hand up your leg, pushing your dress up with it. He hissed, turning his attention back to the road before taking your hand to rub it over the straining in his pants. His mouth fell open, a strangled moan falling from it, your ministrations on its own as you rubbed over him, watching the painfully pleasured look on his face until you thought it was getting unsafe—impressed with yourself that you could even judge that. You tugged his hand back over to your legs, teasing his hand closer and closer to your heat while your head pressed back into the headrest of his car.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he cursed, fingers teasing your underwear, the heat radiating through the thin and narrow satin. You pushed one of your shoes off to bring your leg up onto the seat, turning yourself enough to get his whole palm to cover your center. You gave him a quiet moan, eliciting one from him as he throbbed in his pants. So close, you were so close to your house and he almost couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled into a parking spot for your apartment building sloppily, but he didn’t care. He tugged you out of the car, praising that your apartment was on the ground floor as your shoes dangled in your hand. He was the one who fumbled through your purse for your keys, a little too hot for his own good, as he unlocked the door to your place and took your lips as he guided you inside.

The door slammed with your back up against it, your hips hiked up onto his waist as he assaulted your lips. The suctioning sound of your aggressive kisses filled the room, occasionally drowned out by the pleasured noise you gave him when he rolled his hips into yours, pressing his thick manhood right between your legs.

“Bedroom,” you begged nearly incoherently. “Through the frame to the right,” you directed, letting him turn you around as he carried you to your bedroom, shutting the door behind the two of you even though you lived alone. He placed your feet on the floor in the middle of the room, pushing at the straps of your dress, his lips hardly able to part from yours for a moment long enough to even breathe, but when they did, he could hardly catch it. Your dress fell around your ankles, dawned in a matching set of black lingerie.

His eyes worshipped your body, looking it over, hands touching here and there as he caught his breath. He shook his head, blinking hard, “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he told you. You all but ignored him, flicking the buttons on his jacket open to push it to the floor, next to your dress just like you said, before you pushed him back to the bed, his rear hitting the mattress.

“Go,” you demanded with the flick of your head, directing him to the middle of the bed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, pushing onto his hands to maneuver himself to the middle of the bed. You crawled over him, catching your lips on his erection for a second before you kissed below his navel. His eyes were rolling back, your hot kisses up his body and over the expanse of his torso. You straddled him when you got high enough, many spots on his chest on the verge of hickeys, a light purple or dark pink up to his neck until you sat up, sitting softly on his manhood and he moaned, loudly, into the space of your room.

“Do you like being choked, Mingyu?” you asked him, fiddling with the choker around his neck. His mouth fell open, feeling even dirtier under you than he already did as you sat atop him, half naked, your hot womanhood over his needing erection.

“Only if it’s by you,” he replied, feeling your gentle fingers wrap around as much of his neck as you could.

“You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you?” you asked him, squeezing around his neck softly at first as you rolled your hips, grinding over his manhood.

“Yes, baby, I’m a naughty boy for you,” he replied, the pressure on his neck distorting his voice, you ground over him with another sweet stroke.

“Oh, my god. Do that again,” he begged, his right hand coming up to cup over your wrist of the hand around his neck, the other finding the hipbone of your right hip to rub it, to try and soften you to take control. He was going to let you have your way for now, but it wouldn’t last long. He was aching to be over you, to be holding you down, to be between your legs.

Patiently, he waited while your hand left his neck, letting him breath properly again as you trailed kisses over his neck. His hand threaded through your hair—you weren’t dominant enough that all of the rules were your way, but you did take pleasure in having a man underneath you. Your lips were all over his neck, just the way he spoke of earlier, and he made sure you knew he loved it, sighing and moaning into your ear. You shimmied down his body, trailing kisses back over his hot torso until you came to his pants, roughly tugging them off.

“Easy, darling,” he pleaded, taking your chin to make you look at him. “You might break me,” he laughed gently, helping you tug his pants off a moment after that. He tugged the band of his underwear, adjusting himself to let his erection lay against his abdomen, but you were adamant about taking those off, too. He wasn’t having any of it, though. He sat up, taking your lips in a searing kiss as his skilled fingers undid the clasps on the back of your strapless, letting it fall into his hands so he could discard it to the side.

You broke the kiss, allowing him to follow your necklace down between the valley of your breasts. He took your waist, holding you still to pepper that new skin with kisses. “So gorgeous,” he reminded you, kissing through that valley and softly against the inside of each of them before kissing your sternum. You were still straddling his lap, and only then was he frustrated that both of your underwear was still on.

“I could sit you down on me right now,” he growled, looking between the two of you at that godforsaken fabric. “But first,” he started, taking your hips to turn you over and put you into the mattress. He kissed all over your body, some sweet and short, some long and passionate, some rough and full of teeth and tongue all the way down to your underwear. Before you even knew it, he tugged them off, down to your knees and your calves, letting you kick them off the rest of the way. “I want these legs around my neck,” he uttered to you, shifting your legs over his shoulders.

Your mouth was watering as you looked down at him, feeling yourself tighten around nothing while one of your fists furled in the comforter of your bed in anticipation. He peered up at you, kissing the inside of your thighs and around your heat, never once breaking gaze with you. Both of his hands held your hips down tight, and you were about to say his name—

“Fuck, Mingyu!” you called, throwing your head back into the pillows when his mouth covered your center. His tongue was skilled, sinking between your wet folds to give you firm, generous licks from bottom to top. His hum had your hips wiggling, convulsing already against the bed every time that sinful tongue teased your sensitive button. Your free hand weaved through his hair, not that he had any intention of giving up so soon.

He suctioned that sensitive button between his lips to suck softly, listening to your cries for him, the sear on his scalp from you pulling his hair. His tongue and lips were gone in an instant, kissing at the inside of your thighs again. You were panting hard, chest heaving for air as you calmed down a little, but he wasn’t going to let you go that far. His tongue was at your entrance, burying his nose against your crux, as he tasted just inside your walls.

A shaky moan fell from your abused lips, kiss swollen by Mingyu as his tongue traveled back up to circle your nub, and you cried when he pushed a finger through your folds and into your entrance. The tightening in your stomach came a lot sooner than you thought, a lot sooner than you were ready, especially when he curved that finger up to rub against the top inside wall while his lips continued to assault that tingling nub, pushing another finger in.

Before you knew it, you were coming undone, a moaning mess for him as you tugged his hair, stroking through it. Never had you met a man who could make you come that quickly and so simply. He let you grind on his fingers as you rode your first high, shuttering against the bed as he kissed your legs, leaving a hickey on the inside of your right leg, sucking the skin as the capillaries broke to leave a dark love-bite.

“Yeah, baby? You feel good?” he asked you.

“Oh, my god, Mingyu,” you called back to him, panting into the stale air of your room wafting with sex as you looked at the ceiling. His lips were on your jaw, gently kissing you through the aftermath of your ride. His kisses were gentle and soft, nothing like they were before. His left hand was on your side, rubbing you down as you felt the bed quake. You looked down; the sinful fight of Mingyu’s fist around his throbbing arousal sparked the fire in you again.

He kissed your lips, another gentle kiss that lingered for a moment before he was sliding off the bed, ruffling through his pants for a foil packet. He ripped it open, discarding the packaging onto the desk as he rolled the rubber down his erection. He climbed back on the bed and ripped a squeak out of you when he took your legs, flipping you onto your side to pin a leg underneath him, straddling it as he poised at your entrance.

“If you need me to stop, tell me you can’t take it anymore,” he told you, reaching down to caress your jaw, waiting for your compliant nod. He poised at your entrance, wasting no time in giving you all of him. You were sufficiently prepped, so it wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be, but you’d be lying if it didn’t sting. He was thick and big, definitely a grower, deep between your legs as he let your other leg coil around his waist.

He leaned over, planting both of his hands into the mattress, the burn of your stretching leg adding to the snapping thrusts of his hips, though the pace was slow at first. His lip was between his teeth, eyes locked onto yours as he had his way with you. His hips snapped against yours, the lewd sound of his flesh on yours rivaled both of your noises. Mingyu was a lot more vocal than you initially took him for, moaning hard any time you involuntarily clenched around him.

“Mm, you feel so good, baby,” he praised you, his pace picking up a little more, crushing into your hips at a speed you could hardly keep up with. You tried to reply, but by this point, after your first high, your brain was mushy, words were hard, your eyes could hardly stay open as you reached out to put a hand against his chest, the other over your face and tugging your hair back.

Mingyu clutched your hand to his chest, lungs heaving for air as he laid you into your bed. His broad shoulders looked so sexy hunched over, his body rocking with his thrusts. The second he felt you clenching around him, the second your moans started getting ragged again, ready to chase your second high, he tugged out of you.

“Mingyu!” you screamed but he leaned over to roughly take your jaw in the cup of his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“You’re mine,” he growled, “and I’ll do with you what I please, understood?” he asked you.

“Yes,” you squeaked back.

“Yes, what? What does a baby girl call her man?”

“Yes, daddy,” you corrected and his grip softened on your jaw, leaning over to kiss your lips tenderly once, twice, thrice and kissed your cheek and forehead before he turned you over, facedown into the bed and pulled your hips up to meet his. Your hands braced against the bed as he entered you from the back, your legs pinned between his knees to keep you tight. Mingyu took your left arm, pulling it behind your back to pin it there.

You were soaking wet with the denial of your orgasm and he slipped effortlessly in and out of you. His hips crushed into your rear, his free hand holding your hips as steady as he could, listening to you moan for him until he snapped into you, halting there to wiggle his hips.

“Oh, my god, fuck!” you cried, free hand tearing at the comforter underneath you. You cursed quietly, panting when he stopped. His hand rubbed over your rear, totally adoring the way he looked hilt-deep inside you. You could feel his hot pants against your back until his head lulled back, starting a pace agonizingly slow, but damn it felt so good.

Hypersensitive to ever crease on him, every protruding vein, every ridge that had you unraveling, your center pulsed around him, ready for the second high. His pace picked up a little bit, his hand slack around your wrist, the other smoothing over your back.

“Come on, baby girl,” he pleaded, ready to take you over. His thrusts were coming in hot now, slamming your headboard against the wall of your bedroom. You were mewling for him, your hands wanting to be on any part of him.

“Daddy, please; please take me over,” you begged, face rubbing against your comforter as he relentlessly took you.

He almost felt sorry for you when he felt you so, so, so close to the end, pulling out just before you were finished. Mingyu choked your protest, wrapped a hand around your neck to pull you back against him, pinning his erection between the two of you.

“You’ve been such a good girl,” he praised you, kissing your cheek as his hand released your neck, “taking everything I have for you, huh princess?”

“Mingyu,” you whined, the tears pricking your eyes, your abused core aching for a release. It was no wonder he got you off once so early.

“I promise, baby, this time I’ll take you to paradise. You’ve been so good for me,” he continued, kissing your cheek and your lips with the turn of your head. “Do you want anything from me, baby?” he asked you, ready to lay you down any way you wanted.

“I want to look into your eyes, I want to kiss you, I want to touch you, I want you to be sweet with me,” you begged; the roughness was enough, you just wanted to some sensuality, some intimacy. He nodded, kissing your cheek and down your neck, turning you around to gently lay you under him. He kissed over your body, touching anything he didn’t kiss with soft palms sliding across sweaty skin. He kissed up your neck, cupping the back of it when his lips finally met yours. His kiss was soft, so intimate, caressing your lips with his velvet tongue before it was allowed to see yours. His free hand softly parted your legs, sneaking between them to wrap them around his waist as he slowly pushed in again.Your brow drew together with the burn, your core beyond abused as your hands clawed at his back. His pace was tender, a forgiving rocking of his body into yours as he kissed at your lips before pulling away, looking deep into your eyes as he pushed your hair away from your face until he nuzzled his face back into your neck. Your quiet moans and soft sighs instead of the loud and ragged ones had his heart ablaze. He dug his arms underneath your shoulders, cradling your body against his even as you raked at his back and through his hair.

His lips were on your skin, kissing it all away, praising you for taking him the way he was until he reared back, planting his hands on both sides of you again, and ready to reach his own high after the abuse himself. You reached up to cup his cheek, requesting a chaste kiss before your hand slid down his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat against his ribcage. You watched his neck as he swallowed hard, his eyes on your incessantly as he could feel the bubbling within himself.

Slowly, he rocked, the hand not cupping yours over his chest found your sensitive nub, now sensitive beyond belief. When your legs slid off his hips, they were quivering, tightening around him from time to time. Your cries were getting more adamant, your breath hitching—this is what he loved to see, you coming so far unraveled there was no doubt you wouldn’t be able to stand until morning.

“Come on, baby; you’re right there,” he pleaded—he was right there, too.His head hung forward, his light brown hair barely long enough to shield his closed eyes, panting against your torso, his pace a little faster in long, rough strokes, thumb relentless on you. You called for him, multiple times, the bubbling in your abdomen finally able to spill over. You would have screamed his name if he didn’t lean over to swallow it right off your lips, a muffled moan against his mouth that he returned, pulsing as he emptied into the condom, your walls tightly around him, clenching to milk him dry.

Mingyu’s eyes were closed tightly; yours as well as you rode it out together, slow, short thrusts until he was done. He did his best to wait for you to release him, but apologized when you cried out quietly, pulling out much too prematurely. Delicately, he settled onto you, laying his head against your chest where your hands came up to cradle him. You could feel him heave for air, your own lungs rising and falling with his head. Your legs were around his middle, fully settled between them still as the sheen of sweat started to turn sticky.

After a few moments, and after your breathing had calmed a bit, he removed himself from you, peeling off the condom to trash it and cleaned himself up a bit before he cleaned you. He rubbed your thighs down, pushing blood back into them with no expectation of you walking, as they were still quivering with every movement, weak and unable to lift on their own.

“Come here,” he uttered, pulling the backs of your knees until your legs were around his waist again. He leaned over, prompting for your arms to wrap around his neck for just a moment while he lifted you long enough to tug the covers out from underneath you to delicately place you in them. He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, your jaw, your neck and your lips again before he rummaged through your drawers for a fresh pair of underwear, which he helped on you. When he put his own back on, he began gathering his clothes and there was a pit in you that you didn’t like.

“Mingyu?” you asked.

“Hmm?” he hummed in response.

“Are you leaving?”

He looked down at his clothes, gathered in his hands before looking at you.

“It doesn’t feel right, does it?” he asked, shaking his head with his brow drawn. You shook your head—at least he was feeling the same way. “It probably wouldn’t even feel right to leave in the morning, at least not without showering you and cooking you breakfast,” he added.

“Such a gentleman,” you commented as he dropped his clothes, crawling into bed with you to pull you into his body, resting your head against his sweaty chest. It didn’t matter, his fingers through your hair was soothing enough to have you forgetting about it.

“I just… I don’t think my life will ever feel right without you again. Maybe we should have slept together in high school.”

“What are you saying?” you asked, laughing at what you thought was a joke.

“I mean; maybe this is the start of new beginnings,” he said, looking down at you, waiting for you to look up at him. “Maybe you were meant to be mine all along,” he added, leaning in to kiss your lips. “Maybe my heart feels funny when you kiss me, but not the one-night-stand kind of funny. Like the I want your kisses daily kind of funny. Like the I want to meet you for breakfast and have movie marathons and cook you dinner kind of funny.”

“Mingyu?” you asked.

“Maybe I want to try to be serious with you.”

“Maybe that makes me tick,” you replied.

“Like, in what way?”

“Like, the I want your kisses daily, too, way.”

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