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taeescript · 3 years

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29+1 (Part Three - Finale)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (taehyung x reader?!?!)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin (fluff & definite smut)

𝔴𝔠: 10.7k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: 18+ only. descriptions of sex (are you really that surprised after the last part?): including rejected then unrejected condom use (practice safe kids), possible more unprotected drunk sex, one night stands, lots more mentions of sex, slight unrequited love, more sexts, and Seokjin being a downright meanie (redemption arc?!)

𝔞/𝔫: each part just gets longer - sorrynotsorry. but here is the finale. life gets messy, but we only ever really learn from failures, right? feedback and comments are forever welcomed. as always, enjoy (:

part one | part two

The two of you fumble in the darkness into the room. The majority of guests have since returned home, but there is still loud music and the rhythms of its bass punctuating through the ceiling into the floorboards of the upstairs.

You had initially suggested any of the guest rooms but Seokjin had said that if there was going to be sex, it would be done in Junho’s bedroom where the bed is the softest and the pillows the fluffiest.

After a brief and awkward encounter with the security guard who had rejected the two of you away from the staircase leading upstairs, Seokjin had led you up the back entrance where only the occupants of the house could navigate to.

“No, fuck this is weird. Junho is going to sleep here tonight,” Seokjin suddenly says.

Your fingers fumble to undo the buttons of his shirt, but it has been tucked in so tightly it now hangs halfway undone.

“He’s your best friend. He’s probably heard you fucking through the walls when you were university roomies. Can you undo your own buckle? It’s making your shirt get caught,” you say hastily.

The door slams shut behind you, as he pushes you roughly against it. His kisses are heated, making you claw at his bareback as he works on your request.

“Where’s the – ”

“Zipper’s on the side,” you manage to rasp out. The knot in your abdomen tightens when your dress comes loose and falls to the ground.

You do not know how the two of you make it onto the bed. The room swirls with you as he throws you onto the sheets.

From the light casted in through the windows, you find yourself dwarfed by the silhouette of his broad shoulders and muscular torso. You scoot back to make room for him on the bed, the only thought overwhelming your mind is the need to feel this man on you.

He growls, hitting his shin on the jutting edge of the bed. He swears quite loudly (and foully), but it doesn’t stop him from advancing, eyes lusting over the rise and fall of your breasts and the glisten between your legs.

“Fuck,” he says again, coming onto you with a ferocity of an animal in heat. He pins your arms above your head and begins to lower himself down.

“Wait!” you suddenly scream. It makes him balk in his advance. “You might have good genes, but I’m not risky any bratty children even if my eggs are shriveling up by the second.”

He brings his hips closer to you once again.

“Seokjin! Protection? Condom?”

His eyes scan the room wildly. “It’s fine. I don’t want any of your bratty children either,” he brushes aside your concern.

You sit up. “Fuck no. How am I sure that you’re not going to pass on something weird to me? We’re using one.”

He pulls open the drawer next to the bed but comes up empty handed.

“You don’t have one,” you say when it hits you, “Mr. I’m-Prepared-For-Anything was not prepared for this.”

You see him hunker down in the slightest, bringing a hand in front.

“I don’t get how I’m supposed to anticipate when I have sex. But for your information, I do. It’s just the one I have might be old and ineffective.”

Laughing, you push him onto the bed and reach down to where your small purse had been discarded for the night. You wonder if he has comprehended the impact on your sexual drive when telling you that he carries old condoms.

The deep moan escapes from him before he can stop it. Your hand holds his shaft as you slip the protective latex over it. Then before he can say anything more, you lower yourself onto him.

...

Drunk sex can be fun, but for the most part, it is mostly just downright messy.

You hope he does not remember when you had been moving just a little too roughly, ended up sitting on him at an awkward angle and causing him to yelp in pain. You also hope that it had been your imagination in throwing up just a little bit when he had his dick shoved up your mouth.

Right now, however, is pure bliss.

Your fist tightens your hold on his hair and the other hand pushes against the headboard of the bed. Your panting increases as you continue to gyrate against his lips and tongue, his nose burying itself and hitting the bud every so often.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, buckling when he grips your ass.

You have lost track of time. You don’t care if Junho doesn’t make it to his bedroom tonight. All you know is that twenty minutes ago you had tried to fall asleep only to find Seokjin nibbling your ear and hands slipping beneath your pubic line. Not to mention the hardening of his boner against your back.

“Oh god,” you breathe again. The thought of the aforementioned sends you into a deeper lust.

You are torn out from your thoughts when you notice that he is saying something at the moment. Looking down at him, your heart skips a beat in seeing the mess you have made on his face.

The air is sickly with the scent of alcohol mixed with your perfume and his cologne.

“I want to fuck you,” he is saying in nearly a moan, “I need to fuck you.”

He removes himself from under you. On his knees behind you, he pulls your hips towards him and your face falls onto the sweat soaked pillowcase. He is not gentle when widening your stance so he can enter from behind. A hand is firmly pushing on the crook of your back, and the silent ‘o’ of your face reflecting back upon the mirror over the bed sends a painful spasm down. His erection grows impossibly bigger.

He moves at a merciless pace, sending waves of pleasure throughout your entire body and the room fills with lewd sounds of skin slapping and sucking as you take in the length of his shaft. Reaching around so that he can only stretch your walls further and ram into you deeper, his fingers circle your clit to hit it in a way that brings tears into your eyes at the stimulation. He is content when a line of profanities mingled with his name stream out from your mouth.

“Come for me, baby girl. Come for daddy.”

Your words hitch in your throat upon hearing his command. With all your will, you push yourself away from him and turn to face him.

His chest glistens as he kneels erect in front of you. The thoughts that swirl around in your mind right now; the things that you want for him to do; the things that you want to do. The things you are willing to beg to do.

“Let’s get this straight. First things first, I am not your baby girl,” you say, bringing yourself up to your knees. His lips are swollen and he does not hide the way his eyes rake over every inch of your body as you are before him.

“Secondly,” You grab him and pull him down with you so that your back hits the bed first. “You’re going to fuck me like this.”

Your fingers are coated in your arousal when you guide him so that he slides his entire girth between your folds. You watch as his tongue flicks out and swirls around two of your digits before he gorges them to the knuckles. The sound he makes at this moment sends you hurtling towards the edge.

“And third,” you stop yourself short, biting onto his shoulder while he begins to thrust into you again. “You’re going to come first, Daddy.”

You cannot prepare yourself for the impact. He brings your legs above his shoulders, moving at a pace and depth that you did not think he was possible of until now. Your nails rip into the skin of his back, your chanting of his name like a prayer for him to keep going.

He feels you shaking beneath him, and god, you are so incredibly sexy even with your hair plastered across your forehead. He knows that you are about to tip over but he cannot disobey your order. You mewl in displeasure when he stops, his head in you just far enough to stretch the beginnings of your walls.

“Me first, right?” His eyes do not leave your face. Anther few inches deeper.

You meet him with an angry kiss, grasping for him. He slides the entirety of himself in, and the muscles of his glutes tense at the impact. Letting him ride until he has reaches his high, you bring him even closer to you as you feel his warmth spread through you. He dips down, cleaning you with his tongue, and his lips do not leave yours until you have released yourself over the curling of his fingers.

The both of you are panting heavily as you lay side by side on the king-sized mattress with its silk sheets and lavish satiny blanket. There are unceremoniously dumped rubbers on the floor. You pull the sheets over yourself to cover the stark nakedness you feel, and you inhale sharply at the realization that indeed, you just had sex with your boss.

You hiccup, and a loud burp erupts from you filled with the aftertaste of high-end liquour. You giggle, still ever so slightly inebriated from the events of the night.

“You’d better not be this drunk next weekend,” Seokjin says from beside you. He takes a corner of the sheets and covers himself as well. Even his voice electrifies you. You have to hold your breath for a moment to will yourself to not crawl back closer to him.

“Don’t worry. This is why we did this dry run,” you reassure him.

The house has been quiet for a while and somewhere in the distance, you hear the chime of a bell. It indicates that it is very well past midnight at this point. “I really hope that Junho doesn’t sleep in here tonight,” you say, still staring at the ceiling.

“I texted him,” is Seokjin’s reply.

You turn your head and look at him, face stoic. He returns with a look of his own, the dark pupils of his eyes only beginning to ease the previous hunger. Your heart does a painful leap, and you return your gaze back upon the ceiling.

“Did you have a condom on?”

There is no response. You see that his eyes are closed and there is a gentle rhythmic movement of his chest.

You turn your back to Seokjin’s sleeping form and do not wake from your slumber until early the next morning.

Well, shit.

...

It is the day before the Silver Gala. Taehyung had asked you if you wanted to grab dinner with him. You agreed, and went home first to freshen up before meeting him at the restaurant as he had to stay later at the office to finish up some work.

You hadn’t known exactly what to expect on the Monday when you returned to work. The following day after the whole escapade (ahem sexcapade), you had met with Jimin and Taehyung as previously planned. Neither commented on your choice to wear a scarf despite the humid summer weather. Brunch had been pleasant enough, but your mind had been distant throughout the entire afternoon.

You had felt guilty lying to your own brother when asked how your night out had been, and since Taehyung had not brought it up, you had chosen not to speak to him about it either. And that desperately killed you because you had discovered that you did not like keeping secrets from him. You liked being able to talk to him about anything and everything on your mind.

When you dropped Jimin off at the airport a few days after brunch, he had made a small comment about how he’s glad you’ve found someone to talk to. He had been worried that his little sister would be alone throughout her internship. You had reassured him that you are more than capable of handling yourself, but thank him for his concern nonetheless. You even reassure that you have only about a two and a half weeks left of this work contract, and that you may just decide to return home for a while. He had given you a much longer hug than anticipated, then said, “Good people are hard to come by.” You had asked him what he meant by that but all you received was a cryptic smile.

The days had continued to roll by uneventfully. No longer did you have lunch meetings with your boss. Not that you had minded, considering the pile of work that seems to be growing on your desk. And the minor fact that whenever you looked at your boss all you could see was his naked sweaty body.

You have noticed, however, that he has been just a little bit kinder to you. He is a little more courteous; you catch a small “thank you” one morning when you deliver his coffee. You even contemplate on not submitting the Starbucks receipt for reimbursement as a small gesture of gratitude to him for taking care of you (in more ways than one) that night.

All in all, things had been running fine.

Okay, okay. You may have omitted one big thing; let’s do a tiny bit of a rewind.

To begin, your thoughts on the situation are completely valid. The two of you had been consenting adults. Sure, some alcohol may have been involved, but when you break it down, the two of you had an itch that only the other could have satisfied that night. Nothing wrong with that.

So why the night after meeting Jimin and Taehyung in the morning for lunch had you taken a photo exposing more than just your toes. Of course, you hadn’t sent it (you’re not trying that desperately to ruin your own life), but it sits in your gallery a button away from flying.

It is this photo that you stare at while sitting on the toilet, minutes away from leaving the house. Your fingers hover over the trash can icon. You had to admit to yourself that you looked good. The red frilly garter set that sat at the back of your lingerie drawer had not been used since…well, it just hadn’t been used. But seeing yourself all dolled up made you feel sexy and extremely confidant.

“Just delete it,” you whisper into the air. “Why are you keeping it anyways if you’re not planning on sending it. And if you truly want to send it in the future, you could always take a new one. But also: delete it.”

Seriously though. You find yourself extremely frustrated in the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to say goodbye to a photo of yourself. And in all honesty, you felt a little sad if it were to be permanently gone. Like a missed chance to show someone just how good you could look.

Let’s find your name beside the definition of “narcissistic”.

“Fuck it,” you say, pulling your pants up. You zip up the jeans and stick your phone in the back pocket, turned off and conundrum forgotten.

You are putting a final brush of lip gloss when your phone buzzes on your vanity table.

7:48pm “Hey Y/N. Sorry I’m running a little bit late. I just need another five minutes.”

You promptly reply.

7:48pm “No worries. I can go to the restaurant first and get us seats. Pick out a wine or something for us to share?”

Keys, wallet, extra cash. All check. You glance at your phone again and see that Taehyung has yet to reply. Knowing him, he is probably rushing right now trying to finish whatever it is. He hated being late and keeping people waiting.

Buzz.

7:50pm “I need to see you.”

You stare at the text, feet frozen on the ground. Your palms suddenly get strangely clammy and the more you stare at the text, the more the words seem to shift and blur in your eyesight. Your heart is thundering as you type a response.

7:53pm “At the office?”

His text back comes immediately.

7:53pm “No. My house. I’ll send you the address.”

Indeed, the address is shot through, and you recognize the street name as part of an expensive neighbourhood with fancy buildings and bougie restaurants. Surely, it must not be professional for you to go up directly to your boss’ place of personal living. Also, what would he need you for that could not be done at the office, the place of work?

You desperately wish you had somebody to talk this over with, but Jimin knew nothing about you and Seokjin, and neither did Taehyung. Besides, the latter was still at work. Taking a seat on the stairway by the door, you decide to consult the next best thing: Google.

“Booty call (n): someone who receives a text or call by a bastard between the times of 12am – 3am for a hookup. The bastard will usually greet the booty call with a simple ‘hey’ or ‘what’s up?’”

You nervously bite on your fingernail. Technically, it is only 8pm. He also did not greet with “hey” or “what’s up?” but then again, he never texted you before. His direct message may as well have been the equivalent of “hey” or “what’s up?”. Swallowing, you scan through the next part of the text definition.

“The bastard enjoys using the booty call for sex and nothing else. No friendship is involved.”

You set the phone down beside you. Two consenting adults. An itch that only the other could satisfy. No. Seokjin’s lame ass probably wouldn’t even know what a booty call was. It’s always about work with him.

8:00pm “I want you”

8:00pm “Right now.”

You suddenly see yourself in that garter set again with its frills and open hearts in all the wrong/right places.

...

Seokjin drums his fingers on his bar table impatiently. He had sent you the text over half an hour ago and had not received a single response. He ponders if you had even received the text message or if you were already drinking the night away, as you had often told him would be your Friday evening.

Meandering over to his personal shelf of liquor, he uncaps a bottle of whiskey and prepares an iced glass.

He hopes that you will be the answer to his problem. If somebody had asked him only a few weeks ago if he could have ever envisioned himself in this situation, he would have denied it vehemently. However, the weekend with you had had him contemplating things over and over in his head all week.

Most thoughts were often of matters strictly at hand, but sometimes he found himself staring into space after a particularly sinful image of you interrupts his client meeting. It also hadn’t helped that with the incoming heat wave summer brings, the general population elects to wear a little less than usual, and you being in that halter dress had done him zero favours.

Blinking, he realizes he has poured a little more than his usual amount of whiskey. He exhales sharply, duly noting the slight increase in his heartbeat, and clears his throat despite being the only person home. There is the low rumbling of a car engine in the background, and he is reminded of a moan that suspiciously resembles an employee he cannot wipe out of his mind.

He checks his phone once again to see if there had been any missed messages while combing his fingers through his hair. The least you could do would be to at least send some type of message of whether or not you wanted to come. He wouldn’t be offended – it is slightly inappropriate to be seeing you outside of the office (you as his plus one as an exception) – but he knew he would be more offended if you simply left him hanging.

The sip of whiskey helps ease the tension around his neck after sitting in video conferences all day. Without much of a thought, he swipes the barstool beside him and inspects it of dust.

The doorbell rings.

You are tugging at the jacket you have chosen for the occasion: the longest one you own. During your Uber over, you had tried your best not to make eye contact with the driver, but you do not know if that had made him more or less apprehensive of his passenger. You knock this time, the itch building beneath the jacket.

“Did you tour the city?” he says with a drawl when he opens the door.

You meet his eyes shyly. They are regarding you with amusement. There is the smell of robust acidity when you brush past him to enter his penthouse. The lights are dimmed in the space except for a bulb hanging over the enormous kitchen island counters. A wall of expensive bottles line one side of the wall, and you spy the culprit of the previous smell on the bar table.

He continues to watch you with a bemused smile as you stand transfixed at the large space decorated with post-modern furniture. Most of it is a near clinical white, but a splash of pink and greens accent the walls or as a central statement piece.

“Would you like anything to drink?” he asks.

Startled, you glance at his wall. You recognize none of the labels and tell him that you’ll just take whatever it is that he has. You stand in your spot and watch as he rolls back his sleeves to pour you a drink. Your fingers clutch and pull the jacket around your shoulders tighter around your body as you are reminded of the muscles beneath the set of his light tunic and velvet trousers.

He hands the drink to you, noticing how cold your fingertips are when they brush against his. This is the first time he has seen you with your hair fully down and not in the work day ponytail you often sport. He notices the flush of pink blush you have applied and the same scent of perfume he has smelled before. Your legs are bare and he can’t help but wonder where you had been planning to go before he had called you to be dressed up like so. He also notices how often you are picking at your jacket.

“Sit.” He gestures to the couch. “You can take off the jacket if you want. I don’t have a coat hanger so drape it over a chair if you want.”

It may have been his imagination, but you seem to turn an even lighter shade of pink.

“R-Right now? You want me to undress now?”

He crosses his arms across his chest. Even though the tunic is loose-fitted, it does not hide the broadness of his shoulders and the definition of his deltoids. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. The jacket is borderline hideous so maybe keep cover whatever else you’ve got planned underneath there.” He takes a seat across from you and crosses a long leg.

You can feel your entire body heating up as he runs his eyes up and down your body. It should not be possible for someone to look as good as he did simply sitting, swirling his cup lazily with the barely there smirk.

No friendship. Just sex.

You throw back the drink, nearly gagging at the unfamiliar taste. “I haven’t ever really done this before, so I’m just going to go for it,” you say. You stand and inhale deeply. Taking a few steps forward, you walk towards him.

Seokjin watches as you come closer. He sees as you begin to fumble at the buttons of your jacket. In one swift motion, you have suddenly ended up straddled on his lap.

You press your lips against his, gripping the back of his head and interloping your fingers through the soft tendrils of his hair. He tastes like the sweet whiskey you had both shared and an undertone of mint. You press your own heated body against his chest.

“What in the – ” he says, pushing you off him. He is stopped short only when his eyes land on what you had been concealing beneath the jacket.

...

Taehyung had ran as fast as he could from the subway station. Just as he was exiting, he had spied a small flower stand and in the spur of the moment, had decided to purchase a bouquet consisting of magnolias and roses.

He hadn’t meant for the entire thing to have taken that long. He had planned the speech in his mind for days prior, and had even rehearsed it in front of his mirror that morning of. Yet when it came time, and they were standing before one another, his mouth had simply went dry.

He hopes that you haven’t been waiting long, as the five minutes he had texted you about had turned into a solid thirty. He knew there would be raised voices, and he knew that there might even be tears. But he had not anticipated his own feeling of sadness in knowing that there was truly no going back.

“Um, table for two? I think my friend may already be here,” he says to the hostess when he arrives.

Her fingers deftly flip through a few pages of her book. “Do you have a name?”

Taehyung offers yours. “But I don’t think we have a reservation. She may have walked in a while ago?” He proceeds to give a simple description of what you look like. The hostess shakes her head; Taehyung thanks her and shuffles to the side so that the couple behind him could have their turn.

8:42pm “Hey, Y/N. Sorry again. I just arrived. Text me where you’re sitting? I have something that will hopefully make it up to you.”

He leans against the wall, trying his best to catch his breath while ignoring the frantic thumping of his heart. He still does not know if what he did was for the best. He doesn’t know what this could mean for his own future. All he knows is that he needs to speak to you first.

Five minutes pass. Ten. Another fifteen.

He has sent you another text with similar words as the first, but has yet to receive any reply. Calling you has only lead to your voicemail, and knowing that you are not an avid checker of that, he was not able to leave you a message there either. Deciding that maybe you had gone to the bathroom or perhaps you had simply not arrived yet but stuck in traffic elsewhere, he sends you once last text.

9:12pm “Call me when you receive this. I have something important to tell you.”

One incoming text.

Taehyung grips the bouquet harder, missing the vibrations of his phone. His mind is preoccupied with the other speech he has prepared once he is able to see you face to face.

9:13pm “Fuck you, Kim Taehyung. For the record, you’re not the one breaking up with me. I am. I hope the two of you burn in hell together.”

...

Your entire face is burning hotter than your body had been minutes earlier. You have returned to the seat you had been in originally and Seokjin had moved to the further end of the couch across from you. You are no longer only in the bright red lingerie from before, but in a collared shirt that he had thrown to you after he had thrown you off.

Seokjin clears his throat. He keeps his gaze on either your face or somewhere behind you. He does his best not to comment at the fact that he can still see the red of your thong beneath the sheer shirt he had given you. The shirt dwarfs and swallows your smaller body in it. While he might have commented that you looked cute, he shifts himself uncomfortably in his seat after accidentally (?) glancing at your nipples which protrude beneath the thin material. He gropes awkwardly for a throw pillow but notes that it is on the end of the couch closer to you. He crosses his legs instead.

“So what exactly did you think I called you here for?”

Maybe you could just casually fake a stomachache to escape. But it’s a little too late now. Not that you could exactly run outside looking like this. You slide a little lower in the couch, the cheap material of your thong digging into slits that it should not be digging in. You had spied that the heart shaped cut outs of the top were evident through the transparency of the top, so you had elected to take it off when given the privacy to change. Now you wonder if that had been the correct choice as you are nearly certain that the constant rubbing on your boobs on the shirt would make other things evidently pop.

“You were the one who said that you wanted me. Here I quote: “I want you. Right now.” You show him your phone with the receipts.

He barks out a curt laugh, pushing your phone back to you. He ignores the missed button of your shirt that has exposed more of your skin when you had leaned forward with your phone. “I meant I want you here right now. I’ve been stuck at home in international meetings all day, and wanted to speak with you so I could have my dinner in peace after. I didn’t need you to waste any more of my time by waiting by the doorbell until whenever was convenient for you.”

“Well I’m sorry… You could have maybe switched around your words,” you mutter beneath your breath. Peaking beneath your lashes, you can tell that he has pretended not to hear you. He wets his lips with his tongue before sipping again at his drink. When he removes the cup, they glisten with moisture and look delectably soft and plush.

He can see that you are watching him. Your somewhat shy demeanor at the moment throws him off, and he has to adjust the way he sits again. “Hasn’t anyone taught you proper posture?” he chastises you. Your slouching had only drawn the large shirt up your legs. After you adjust the way you are positioned, he reaches over to a folder that had been on the wooden coffee table. He hands the package to you. “This is the reason that I wanted to talk to you.”

There are pages upon pages of the contract. The words with line after line of legal terms and jargon make you blink several times.

“Isn’t this basically what Yerin does?” you ask once you have breezed through it quickly.

He has returned to sipping at his drink. In the light (and your own soberness), you note how quickly he glows under the influence. You swallow the laugh before it can escape, thinking how much he looked like a little chibi character with his over-dramatic blush.

“Yerin’s due for a contract renewal. I also know that your contract is about to expire as well. In all honesty, you have done more work around the office than she or anyone has.”

“I mean, I’m honoured. But look at the two of us right now. I don’t want the rest of the office to think I’ve slept my way into a position. I’ll be fine after my contract expires.” You say the last sentence as consolation to yourself and him.

He shakes his head. “She gave me her resignation letter last week. She’s moving with her fiancée. I now have a vacant position and I need it filled immediately. I believe that you’d be a good fit.”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “A lifestyle of getting Starbucks orders that run into next week? Can’t exactly say it’s all that enticing to be working for a spawn of Satan.”

This time he laughs loudly audibly. “Is that what you think of me? I’d thought you’d at least be more creative when coming up of nicknames.” He stands and walks back to his liquor cabinet. Returning, he refills both of your cups with a new dark liquid.

“I need time to think about it,” you tell him honestly. “As you have probably figured out, I didn’t exactly plan on being offered a job tonight.”

He uncrosses his legs and leans forward. The neck of his shirt falls, opening up to a dangerous black hole to his chest. “I still can’t believe you thought I had texted for a booty call.”

You lean forward and match his stance. “Your text was seriously misleading, okay? Besides, we haven’t exactly talked about what happened last week so I’m sorry for misinterpreting the weird signals you’ve been putting out.”

“I’ve been sending weird signals.”

“Yes. You haven’t spoken to me all week.”

“I told you, I’ve been in a lot of meetings with our new development plan. You’re not exactly a saint yourself by the way; coming in with new outfits everyday and sashaying deliberately in front of my room to the kitchen.”

You hadn’t known that he had picked up on your new wardrobe, let alone your dumb plan of checking in on him while you go get food. “I didn’t know if we were just going to pretend that it never happened or if, I don’t know, there was something.”

“Do you want there to be something?”

“I said I don’t know.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m nearly 30 years old. I’ve worked over a dozen unrelated jobs. I’m currently an intern slash personal assistant slash whatever job position you have just offered me. I live in a tiny apartment and spend my weekends either home alone or at a bar with a singular friends. I don’t think I’m exactly screaming sexy vixen here.”

You do not miss the raise of his eyebrow at your last sentence.

“I don’t believe your age needs to have anything to do with your accomplishments,” he says.

“Says the younger successful CEO of his own company,” you snort.

“I believe in bringing out the best colours for any employee in my company. I started DailyHive off with just an idea and nobody to explain to me what I should be doing. It is people like an experienced intern or a helpful stranger on the street who helped me figure out how to set a company off. The only thing that should be addressed with one’s age is that they’ve got extra years of wisdom. They don’t offer anything less because of a few less letters after their name; they offer so much more.

Even if an individual doesn’t stay at the company, I am content in knowing that I am able to be a part of an individual’s journey to better themselves.”

You draw your legs up beneath you. “You’re damn lucky to have found your own colour in the world. I’m a year-old tube with dry stuck paint at its opening. I don’t know what I want.” It takes you a moment to see that he is looking anywhere else but you, when you feel a breeze shift along your butt. You lower your legs again.

“So many people are fixated on finding their own colour,” he says with a sigh. His gaze lingers outside his windows overlooking the city’s twinkling lights filled with bustling cars and families winding down for the night. “I think life is really about creating your own palette. Nobody is ever created with a singular colour. We’re multidimensional beings with changing goals and motives. We can love one thing and hate it the next moment.”

You bring your legs even closer to you. Damn him for being so freaking attractive while talking about humans being a paint palette.

“Yeah okay. Again, let me think about this,” you grumble.

He turns back to look at your. His eyes are solemn but kind and understanding. He brings out his phone. “Send me your resume. Even if you decide against it, at least I’ll have you on file. I’ll forward it to Yerin before she goes so she can send it off to HR as needed.”

You nod. “I’ll AirDrop it to you right now before I can change my mind. Give me a moment.” You curse him and his words that have now begun to worm its way into your mind. Swiping distractedly at your cluttered gallery, you click the file and send it over to his phone.

“There,” you say once you have completed the task. You look up when he does not respond, noting that he is staring intensely at his phone. “Yeah I get it. Like I said, a lot of random-ass jobs. But I’ll be working on building my palette as you’ve so elegantly put it.”

“I, uh,” He clears his throat. “Could you send it again? I don’t think I got it.”

You roll your eyes. “What are you talking about? Here let me see. You probably don’t know how to access it.” You reach for his phone.

He retracts his hand quickly, immediately clicking the lock button. “No!” he says loudly, “I know how to access it. Just send it again.”

You shake your head, back to scrolling through your phone when it shuts off on you. He pushes you off his lap. “Uh, I can’t. It just died.” You look up and see that he is distracted by his phone again.

“It’s fine,” he says after a moment. “Just send Yerin an email directly, I guess.”

“Okay,” you say. The two of you glance at each other in silence. “So,” you begin, “This is a little awkward but I hadn’t really thought I would be going home. Dead phone means no Uber.”

“I have an extra guest room,” he says before you can finish. “I’ll have someone drive you home tomorrow.”

“Still got some good pillows and sheets though, right?” you say cheekily.

He rolls his eyes and gestures for you to follow him.

...

He tosses and turns in his bed after the two of you have retired into your separate rooms. A particular image cannot be removed from his eyes, and the subject of said image lies only a few walls apart from where he is. He reaches over for his phone.

You know you should have been able to fall asleep quickly, especially with the silk pajamas he has lent you and the extra soft pillows he has prepared on your behalf. Yet, there is an enticing thought that continues to run scenarios through your mind. You need a cup of water or at least some fresh air to clear such thoughts, and remember seeing a balcony by the dining area.

Padding as quiet as you can to the door, you open it as smoothly as you can to not disturb the owner of the house. You are about to walk through when you find a large wall in your way.

Seokjin stands in the doorframe. He looks down at you, a sensual shadow that makes you choke on your breath.

He holds up his phone, the last image he received lighting up your room.

...

“You’re sure this is what you want?” you ask, peeking from behind the door frame. Seokjin lounges on his bed, one leg up and both his arms spread across the back of the headboard. Your toes curl upon laying eyes at his long limbs with that deceiving baby face.

“That was your original plan when you showed up, no? Might as well go through with it.”

You take a deep breath and walk into his room, back into the garter set of the photo you had unintentionally sent him.

He sweeps over you in one movement. He is suddenly ravenous, and you are exactly what he needs to fill his appetite.

“Turn around,” he states.

You do so. He follows the length of the stockings up your thighs, the barely-there thong that opens up with little heart encasing your skin around the side, front and back. Then the frilly top that leaves nothing up to the imagination as they cling onto your skin in one thin strap.

“Come here,” is his next command.

You approach the edge of his bed, then crawl up towards where he has lounged.

“Sit.” He can barely manage the singular word. You had said you were not a vixen before, but that is all he can envision right now. He pats the spot.

Seeing where his hand rests, you lift it and place it on your body. The heat it emanates travels directly to your core. You then sit where you want, and feel a twitch beneath where you have placed your body. This time, he does not push you away when you weave your fingers into his hair and give him a deep kiss. Your tongue sweeps teasingly along the plump lips you had been eyeing earlier that evening, darting in and out without truly meeting his.

He throbs against your thigh. His hands travel from your back to your waist and finally up to your breasts. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and gives it a light squeeze. He feels you hum at his movements. Traveling to a soft spot in your neck, he suckles it gently all while rubbing the hardening bud.

“Let me hear you say it again,” he whispers between a nip on your earlobe and leaving a wet trail to the top of your breasts. He slips lower on his back, creating a wider cradle in which you rest within his lap.

You adjust yourself, sucking his full bottom lip. “Daddy,” you sigh. This time the twitch is aggressive and you know that there is a growing wet spot where you sit. You sit up with a small groan as he cups your entire breast in a hand. He brings his lips to it and he suckles on your nipple this time. His tongue brushes against the sensitive skin. One hand trails down your abdomen and brushes against your folds. He presses a thumb that easily slides between to your bud.

“Oh, you are so wet.” The sentence comes out as a breathy erotic moan. “Daddy will take care of you tonight.”

Lifting you off him, he slides out of his pajamas before crouching above your figure. He shares another heated kiss, all the while tugging at the laces that hold your outfit together. Your nails dig and leave red markings down his forearms and back, while you bite back a growing moan and heated drop in your body.

“Tell me what you need,” he exhales.

You close your eyes as his tip presses against your pelvis. Reaching, you take his member into your hands and begin to tug at it. You bring yourself to meet him, then begin coating yourself over the entirety of his shaft. When his body spasms above yours, you circle his tip with your thumb and rub it against your clit.

His breathing increases until it becomes a staggered sob. You feel him tightening and he grunts. Taking him to you again, you draw his face towards you, opening his mouth with a swipe of your tongue. He battles against your tongue with his own all the while you increase the speed at which you continue to roll your wrist along his length.

He shakes again violently, and you know he is at the start of his climb. The growl fills the room when you grab him and deny him of is orgasm. He bites into your lip, drawing the iron taste of blood.

“That’s for last time,” you say, the feeling of pain barely registered above the sensation of pleasure.

“Let’s call it even now,” he says. He loops a finger through one of the cutout hearts of your bottoms and the buttons holding it together separate with a pop. He presses gentle kisses on the soft part of your abdomen, then the squishy part of your pelvis, drawing closer to the middle of your thighs, and all the while leading up to your drenched core.

You cannot do anything else but writhe and moan beneath his tongue.

“You should wear that more often. In different colours. Different styles like a babydoll.” The vibrations along his lips only drive you closer to the edge. He latches onto your clit and continues to drink in the sounds that come out from your mouth. “Such naughty sounds from such a pretty mouth,” he rumbles. You yelp when he pinches your nipple with a force, and that animalistic noise has him drawing back up to you.

Your own hunger is overwhelmed when you taste yourself in the harsh kiss he has given. He lines himself up and begins to thrust deeply into you; his fingers dipping into your mouth as you begin to suck. Crude incoherent growls arise from him, his pace not slowing. His fingers leave so that he can reposition himself and watch as he enters and exits you each time. There is only the sound of heavy breathing from the both of you and finally.

You bring your hips to meet his at the same time that he releases himself all over you. You follow only seconds later, the orgasm so intense that for a moment you are knocked breathless. You then feel his soft tremoring kisses on your forehead, your nose and finally a long one on your lips.

“I really need to watch what I send you,” you whisper. In the dim light of the room, you see a large grin as he presses his forehead against yours.

....

The first rule in one-night stands is that you are to never fall for the person. Boundaries are to be set up and these boundaries are not meant to be crossed. Yet throughout the next day, you find yourself hurtling towards the other side of these boundaries at a dangerous momentum.

There had been more love-making sessions that you would like to care to admit. It just hadn’t seemed right to send you home without first having some breakfast. Then you couldn’t because your phone was not finished charging. By then it had been lunch. It is the day of the Gala anyways so why don’t you just stay and he’ll have somebody swing by your place to pick up your outfit?

You had never known Seokjin to be particularly sweet, with his no nonsense attitude and extremely picky choices as your supervisor. Yet when he had placed a meticulously curated meal before you, you had to admit that he is an extremely good cook who also happened to remember your food choices from the times you had shared lunches together.

No breakfast meats as too much salt straight off the bat made your stomach complain. You hated citrus, so he opted out of that when making salmon for lunch. He had made some homemade pesto pasta instead, knowing that you had often inquired of if green was actually healthier than the usual red or white. He made sure you were fed, kept warm and content.

There had been a brief few hours of the day when he had to be in his home office to take some calls. But that had not been a problem. You had retired back into the guest room to take some much needed sleep, after not having had much the previous night. Then he had joined you in bed when the call was over.

He was also such a different lover when neither of you were intoxicated.

“The Gala is in three hours. Perhaps we should start to get dressed,” he whispers into your hair.

You straddle him, your head on his wide chest and one leg intertwined between his. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and nip at jaw. “Too early. Another hour,” you murmur, your hand already stroking his half hard cock.

The laugh rumbles like an impending thunderstorm. Seokjin had never anticipated how much he enjoyed having another presence in this large, empty void he occasionally called home. He had often felt a sense of dread leaving the office building knowing that he would be away from people and back alone for the next few hours until he could return to work. He liked the feeling of warmth having you in his arms; having somebody to enjoy his cooking; having somebody to share the mundane tasks of everyday life.

He has to make an effort to remove you from him despite the yearning as aftereffects of your teasing. Brushing your hair away from your eyes, he places a delicate kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I might not need three, but from our dry run I’ll suggest that you utilize all the time you have,” he says.

You roll over onto your stomach all the while watching as he stands up, previous sheets sliding past his lean torso and revealing him in his entirety. He nearly hops back into bed when he meets your dilated pupils filled with carnal hunger. “I’m going to take a shower,” he says with finality.

Groaning loudly to complain at him for leaving a cold pocket of air in the once warm sheets, you flip back onto your back. You grope blindly at the bedside tables until you find one of his shirts to cover yourself with. Your body shivers when your feet hits the icy floors. You pad over to where you had left your phone charging near the kitchen table and turn it on for the first time since it had died last night.

Your heart does a triple flip when you see the amount of missed calls and texts from Taehyung. Shit.

He picks up on the third ring.

“Taehyung,” you gush immediately.

He sounds tired when he answers. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see this until now; my phone had died last night.”

“That’s okay,” he clips the words.

“A-Are you okay?” you return the question. “You said you had something important to talk to me about.” He is not talking to you like he normally does, and that worries you. Something had definitely happened.

“I did. But it’s resolved now. Where were you last night?”

You know that he is genuinely upset at something, whether that something be that you had left him alone for dinner, so you cannot even lie at your whereabouts. You begin to chew at your fingernails as you tell him, “Seokjin called me last night. It was an emergency; he needed me to help him with something. But he’s okay now. And guess what, Tae? He offered me a permanent job! Looks like I’m sticking around just a little bit longer.”

“Huh,” he says. He remains distracted and distant on the call. “Fei is calling me right now. We can talk later.”

“I’ll be at the Silver Gala with Seokjin. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Right. That’s tonight. Have fun.”

“Okay, bye, Tae. Tomorrow, I promise.”

You are met with the end tone of the call. You wince when you hit a sensitive part of your nail bed.

...

There is barely enough time for you to breathe, let alone think about the situation between you and Taehyung, and you and Seokjin.

You are wrapped up in the whirlwind event of the Silver Gala. It passes without a hitch. You act like the perfect arm candy of young playboy (?) worldwide handsome CEO of DailyHive. Despite all the warnings, you are however unprepared to face the hurricane of comments that arise from the night’s events.

Junho had planned for a few reporters to comment on Seokjin’s plain-Jane date. He did not expect the paparazzi to dig into anything deeper and start rumours about the mysterious woman by the side of Kim Seokjin. He did not expect to see blurry photos of the two of them playing golf at his birthday party a week prior.

Nobody expected you to be named his girlfriend.

You hate the attention that it brings. In particular, you hate the whispers from all the coworkers and the stares whenever you enter into the office alone. Just a few days ago, you had walked in on a particularly distasteful conversation in the lunchroom.

“Why would he take her of all people?” you hear someone whisper, oblivious to the fact that you are walking down the hall towards then.

“She tried to fuck my boyfriend.” This voice you do recognize as Fei’s.

“Really? Did you hear she’s got a job offer here? Do you think she’s trying to sleep her way up? You’d better keep an eye out on Taehyung then.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let that slut run her way through here. Not again.”

That last sentence had been said straight to your face. You knew Fei hated you. You just couldn’t be bothered anymore.

You have not spoken to Seokjin since the articles have been released and instead partake in your meals on the roof where not a single soul dares to go in fear of the unrelenting summer sun.

Despite it all, you cannot help but feel a little sorry for him. You were a nobody, and so the dirt that the tabloids had dug up were really quite more like dustballs compared to the information about Seokjin. You know it must be hard for him to have his life scrutinized 24/7. It cannot be easy to have every single action picked apart for some sort of deeper meaning. That daily stress can make even the nicest person a bratty annoying SOB.

It still sucks that you’re a part of it though.

These are the thoughts that occupy your mind and make you unaware of the argument that has unfolded in the conference room.

Having always been looking for your faults, she did not falter when presented with the opportunity to use you as a scapegoat.

“This is extremely unfair. She’s just an intern and she should not have a say in decisions like these,” Fei says, her voice raising, “She’s going to be gone next week anyways.

Your attention snaps up towards them. A few minutes ago, Seokjin had asked for your opinion regarding DailyHive’s upcoming year development plan. You want to correct her in saying that it’s technically the week after that. Additionally, there is the fact that you would return after.

Seokjin sits a little straighter in his chair. “I don’t understand what Y/N has got to do with any of this. The issue I have is with your – ”

Fei does not let him finish. “You’re being prejudiced because the two of you are dating.”

The whole room watches this encounter with their breaths on hold. Taehyung lifts his gaze from his silent spot across from you.

At once, the two of you stand and shout, “No.” and “Oh my god, you’ve got it wrong!’ simultaneously.

Flustered, you begin to explain yourself. It is one to ignore your co-worker’s comments and the nuisance of the tabloids, but you at least wanted to clear any misunderstanding with Seokjin,

“He and I aren’t dating. We’re strictly in a boss and intern level relationship.” Seokjin follows this with, “Exactly. Besides, I’d be doing her and her family a favour if we were.”

This shuts you up.

“She’s old, first of all. She’d be lucky to have a younger, handsome man by her side. Secondly, it’s not like her family’s made of gold. If we were to date, I’d clearly be the one paying for everything. And imagine if we were to eventually become married! She could never afford so anything on her measly salary. Everything would definitely be coming out of my pocket.”

All the words tumble out even as his mind desperately pumps the brakes.

“I’m above that.”

There is silence in the room following the outburst. More eyes are on you than he, and they continue to watch you as you slowly rise from your seat.

“Above that?” you mutter, turning your back to the room after firmly closing your laptop to place in your bag. You hear the sound of the scraping of a chair from somewhere behind.

“She’s just an intern.”

You zip your bag, your fingers shaking with the effort to not big the whole damn thing up to throw it across the table. When you turn around, you see that Taehyung has risen from his seat while Seokjin has sat back down on his own.

“Excuse me,” you say, your voice wobbling, “Might I remind you that she is right here, and she thinks you’re a total jackass, Mr. Kim.” His name hisses from between your teeth like a whistle. “You may have money. You may own a big fancy house with expensive furniture and a whole array of million dollar pieces in your closet. But you are not above me.”

He does not meet your harsh glare.

“You know what? This entire company sucks. I might just be an intern, but I still believe that I should be treated with the same level of respect and courtesy given to any as basic human rights. So screw you. And while I’m at this? Screw you too, Fei. You suck the most. Good fucking riddance to everyone.”

...

You have been wandering the streets, still very much annoyed and heated from your outburst. You have ignored Taehyung’s calls and even Jimin’s who strangely knew to call you.

So now you are jobless (or very likely jobless). And even though you want to feel and live off the anger, the emotion that overwhelms you the most is your guilt. Because you know everything he had said about you is right.

What if you had just tried harder?

He is above you.

Would your life still be this miserable?

God, why had you ever thought that maybe he cared.

You only wanted a simple life. Was that too much to ask for?

Fate played you like a doll with your one act role as Cinderella that night.

You are a nobody.

You plop down at a park bench, blocks away from the office. And you had been so close to finishing that contract too.

Add that to your growing list of failures.

You might as well begin job searching again because you highly doubt that job offer still stands.

Your phone buzzes again with an incoming call.

“I didn’t think you still cared, Tae,” you say without even looking when picking up.

“Jesus, Y/N,” there is obvious relief in his voice, “I thought something had happened you. You’ve been gone for two hours already. And why wouldn’t I care about you?”

“Does it matter? Just pack my things for me. I’ll pick them up from you some time this weekend,” you say. The reality of your actions have finally settled, and the reality is truly devastating.

“Come back. Fei was out of line there. I don’t think even Mr. Kim would let something like that slide.”

You want to tell him that Fei is not the true problem, but you are too tired to make that correction. Instead, you say, “I’m old. I’m also tragically single. And you know what? I haven’t told you this but the flat I live at isn’t even truly mine. My parents are the one paying for it because the best thing I could afford was being roommates with some college kid who I’m sure sold drugs on the side. I think I needed a reality check. It was a harsh one, but if I don’t start achieving something of my own soon. I don’t know.

I’ll be worthless.”

You close your eyes.

“I’m fine. Thanks for checking up on me, Tae,” you say at last, doing your best to sound perkier, “If you’re talking with Jimin apologize on my behalf. I don’t think I will be the next Zuckerberg. He can continue having his information stolen from Facebook instead of me.”

Staring at the blank screen of you phone, you have hung up before you can listen to another attempt at consolation. A big fat droplet of water splashes and smears over your screen. It lights up.

I saw you on the Internet! Are you really dating the CEO of DailyHive?? BTW, this is Kiko!!

You huff.

Another droplet of water falls, hitting your face this time.

As if life couldn’t get any shittier, there is a sudden onset of rain. The sun quickly disappears behind the clouds.

You had wanted a movie. Life gave you a mockery of Cinderella, and now your classic drenched k-drama protagonist in the rain. Hey, Controller of Destiny, would it be too much right now to ask for the male lead to swoop in with an umbrella?

“You look like a drenched rat,” you hear a voice say. His voice sounds distant and muffled.

Looking up, you see a stranger holding an umbrella over your head. In his other hand, he holds out a phone currently connected to a call.

“Seokjin?” you ask into the open.

“You could have picked a further place to run to if you really were trying to run away,” he says over speakerphone. “Come into the car. Your health benefits don’t exactly kick in until later.”

Following Seokjin’s chauffeur to the black limousine parked only a minute’s walk at the park’s entrance to which you had been sitting at, you muse at the turn of events. Even a k-drama metaphor is apparently too good for you.

Seokjin hands you a handkerchief when you finally sit down beside him. “It probably wasn’t in any of our best interest that I said all of those things,” he mutters quietly.

You raise an eyebrow and say with a tilt of your lips, “Huh, you think? Was it also too much work to just come and offer me an umbrella yourself?” You work to dry your rain-soaked hair, but end up looking more and more like a wet dog.

He wrinkles his nose in distaste. “This is a very expensive suit, you know? It shouldn’t really get wet.”

Sighing, you turn to him. “Are you here for a particular reason or should I just get back out into the rain. I’m probably also drenching these leather seats.”

He contemplates something and then reaches into his breast pocket. He hands over a small box to you. It weighs in your palm like a paperweight.

“Is this your version of an apology?”

He snorts. “As if. I’m just saying – and purely stating a fact here – that it probably wouldn’t be that bad if somebody were to date you. You’re somewhat pleasing to the eye; you’re mostly hardworking and you can be useful to have around.”

He does not add that last night, he had dreamt he was that somebody.

“Also,” the next words take a while to form on his lips, “I’m regretful of the things I said earlier at the office.”

You cannot help but feel a smile tug upon hearing the strange words that are coming out of his mouth.

“God help us all if that’s what you think an apology is.”

“Open it.”

You sigh and unravel the string. In the center of the packing is a golf ball, with your initials monogrammed onto it.

“What’s this?” you ask.

He clears his throat. “I had Yerin run the paperwork so we can get started with your onboarding. I saw that today is your birthday.”

“I didn’t know you cared so much about your interns, Kim Seokjin,” you say. The smile refuses to leave your face as you turn the golf ball around in your hands.

“Fine. I saw Taehyung leave something on your desk this morning,” he finally admits.

“We’ll work on your apology. But okay. Consider your regret noted at this moment.”

He gestures to the chauffeur to start the car. From outside the vehicle, the rain dissipates. Once again, there is warmth in the air and a glow from the sun as it emerges from behind the clouds.

“Um, Seokjin. The office is the other way. You might need to hire a new chauffeur,” you say. Your shared office building grows smaller in the distance.

The scene begins to fade like the epilogue of a movie.

Seokjin leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. “I know. I just thought, screw the company. Let’s go play a real game of golf.”

You lean back, holding the golf ball close in your lap.

Maybe, your 29+1 might not be so bad after all.

152 notes · View notes

jingyismom · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Lan Wangji’s uncomfortable position during Sunshot

Rated T, pre-relationship wangxian, cw for harrassment, suggestive language, no other warnings, canon compliant

During the Sunshot campaign, Lan Wangji only had the reputation of being peerless and pure before the fighting began. It is entirely possible that this, plus his position and appearance, could have resulted in jumped-up heirs from lesser sects thinking him easy prey.

He came into it late, too, after leading the Wei Wuxian-finding mission with the Jiangs.

Imagine this beautiful young cultivator in spotless white appearing in a city filled with men primed for war.

Worse, imagine the fragile state of Gusu Lan and their dependence on these alliances.

Lan Wangji is politically aware, even though he's not held to the same standard as his brother. And when these men loom out of dark corners spewing lewd remarks and making even lewder requests, he wants to kill them. If the situation were different, they would come away at least maimed.

But he cannot afford to be rash. Not when the Cloud Recesses is not yet rebuilt. And he is in no real danger - if one of them tried to touch him he would feel no qualms taking a hand in recompense. So he...lives with it. For months.

Lan Xichen has other, more important troubles on his mind, there is no need to make him aware. It is just men indulging their baser instincts. It is nothing.

Except. Over time. It begins to wear on him. Its true he's only the second master of Gusu Lan, an ornament, a bargaining chip. A thing. He begins to feel like a thing. And after weeks, then months, of bloody fighting and unceasing, unseemly comments on his body, his face, his mouth - he begins to feel like a dirty one.

One night, Wei Wuxian is walking between tents during the push for Nightless City. He hears gruff voices, liquor-proud, making obscene offers not far away. He tenses and strides over, resentment rising beneath his skin. How dare anybody in this army treat a fellow soldier this way?

He comes around a corner and freezes. Lan Wangji is there, practically glowing in the black of night. Is he already taking care of the problem?

The voices continue to jeer. Lan Wangji doesn't move.

Is he...with them? It can't be possible that Lan Wangji would...hang around...anyone like this.

Wei Wuxian peers closer at him, still hidden in shadow. His face looks. It looks...weird. Wei Wuxian still has trouble reading Lan Wangji, but he knows this is...not his normal face. It's tense. Like he's angry. That, he's seen before, maybe too often. But there is the slightest furrow to his brow.

Like he's torn. Or...helpless. Which is, well. It's ridiculous. Lan Wangji is incapable of helplessness.

Still, the strangeness of it kicks him into action. He comes out into the firelight ready for a fight.

And pauses once more.

There are four men Wei Wuxian doesn't recognize facing Lan Wangji.

Blocking his path. They're saying things...the things they are saying. Are. Are far worse than any of the hushed, private joking Wei Wuxian has been privy to among friends. The things they are saying are forceful. Joyfully violent.

And they're saying them to Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji's eyes snap to him immediately and go wide, but Wei Wuxian doesn't see it. His vision is bleeding out to tones of red and gray, Chenqing clutched tight in one shaking hand. He points it at the men. They laugh. They don't yet know what he is, what he can do. He's happy to show them.

He raises his flute to his lips, only for a hand to catch his elbow, to drag it back. He shakes it off. He's going to rip these sorry excuses for men into small pieces, and then make their ghosts thank him for it. He's going to--

"Wei Ying."

He looks at Lan Wangji's face, right beside him now. It isn't stern, or reprimanding. It only looks tired.

He stops. Looks back at the men.

"I was just speaking with Nie-zongzhu right over there," he lies, bringing up the only name he can think might strike fear into these animals. "Shall I go and get him, and let him hear what trash is fighting alongside him in his righteous war?"

The men scowl and leave. He turns to Lan Wangji.

"Lan Zhan," he says, confused and still unsteady with rage. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Lan Wangji says. He lets go of Wei Wuxian's arm and turns to go. Wei Wuxian catches his in turn.

"Nothing? Nothing? Lan Zhan, why did they think...why did they think they could say such things to you?" He knows Lan Wangji could have ended their lives with one strike. "Why were you letting them?"

Lan Wangji does not look at him.

"Because they can," he says. He tries to break away, but Wei Wuxian holds on.

"No," he says firmly. "They can't."

Lan Wangji turns to face him at last. "Why not? They may speak as they please to the second son of a broken clan."

Wei Wuxian bridles. "A broken - Lan Zhan-"

"If Gusu Lan is to recover, it cannot afford animosity from any who might give it aid." His voice is hard and sharp as steel. "Their words are of no consequence. Their coin is a different matter."

"No consequence?" Wei Wuxian asks. "Lan Zhan. They were saying..."

"I know very well what they were saying," Lan Wangji says, and pulls away at last. He leaves Wei Wuxian staring after him in open shock.

Lan Wangji is mortified. He tells himself he is merely concerned about what he almost witnessed Wei Wuxian do to those men, but in truth is he is shaken. Scared, and tired, and very much ashamed. That Wei Wuxian has witnessed the way mere strangers could reduce Lan Wangji so easily to nothing. For the first time in his life, Lan Wangji feels uncomfortable in his own skin. And now it is as if Wei Wuxian knows. As if he knows that Lan Wangji is just...just a blank canvas for any passing uncouth fantasy. He both is and isn't the Second Jade of Lan - He is not untouchable, not in mind, in spirit. He is neither peerless nor pure. But he is not human, either. Not real in any way that counts.

And now Wei Wuxian, almost the only person that counts, can see it.

They do not speak of it. The war rages on. They fight, side by side, and protect each other.

Wei Wuxian does his best to protect Lan Wangji off the battlefield, too. Tries to make sure he never walks past strange tents alone at night, without being too obvious about it. He knows Lan Wangji wouldn't thank him for it, and their friendship is tenuous as it is. Still, the expression he'd seen on him that night haunts Wei Wuxian. He doesn't want it to make a home on his beloved face.

After Nightless City, though, things change.

Wei Wuxian isn't respected, exactly. But he is feared. When he speaks, cultivators at least pretend to listen. They've seen now what he's capable of.

He hasn't forgotten those men. Hasn't forgotten the lurid, barbaric pictures they dared to paint over Lan Wangji's undeniable impeccability, nor the unforgivably horrible way they'd managed to make Lan Wangji feel.

But there have been other things to take care of.

Until the banquet.

After the battle, after Wen Ruohan has been killed, liquor is bountiful as cultivators and foot soldiers alike make merry, preparing to feast. Jin Guangshan, now that things are over, has opened his purse to the victors, and none of them intend to waste it.

Once Wei Wuxian has recovered, once Lan Wangji has deemed him well enough not to need healing music any longer, they lose track of each other in the busy work of cleaning out the city, of preparing to celebrate a job well done.

But when the night arrives, Wei Wuxian is hurrying back to the Jiang quarters alone to join their contingent and head to the banquet. He's late, partially because he's him, and partially because he does not want to go. But Lan Wangji will be there, and he hasn't seen him in days.

He hears voices down a parallel street. Rough and loud. Familiar.

He turns and is halfway down the connecting alley before consciously deciding to change course. Dozens of voices whisper in his ears of vengeance, of justice, and black smoke licks his skin.

He sees them, lit harshly by the bright moon, washed out, pale and ugly, leering. He doesn't care what they're doing, who they're talking to. They have to pay.

"Wei Ying."

Lan Wangji's face swims into view, suddenly close. He looks nearly wild with concern. Wei Wuxian realizes Chenqing is already pressed to his lips, the first notes of a fierce melody dying on the air. Lan Wangji is gripping his wrist.

"They are not worth your life," he says."

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to disagree. Lan Wangji's fingers tighten. Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath, and looks away from his steady, grounding eyes.

The men are still there, daring to look at them. Brazen.

"You have nothing better to do than lower the value of this entire street by merely standing on it?" Wei Wuxian calls to them.

They shift uneasily. But one of them lifts his chin, defiant.

"Who are you to discipline us? We're not Jiang or Lan, you can't speak to us this way."

Wei Wuxian angles away from Lan Wangji, faces them fully. Lets the shadows grow longer all around him. Pitches his voice low and calm. "Oh? Can't I?"

Three of them begin to back away, but the mouthy bastard stands firm. "You've no claim on us nor that one. What, is ruining our celebration your idea of fun? He's been acting all high and mighty all the while we've been down in the mud. It's high time he takes a turn on his knees."

Wei Wuxian flinches as if he's been hit. He doesn't look at Lan Wangji. He can't manage it, can't believe he's allowed this to happen again.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji pleads beside him. "The banquet. Your shidi and shijie are waiting for you. Lotus Pier needs you."

Wei Wuxian's breaths have gone erratic and shallow. He cannot kill these men. He should not. It would be...there's a reason. Lan Wangji doesn't want him to. He cannot kill them.

But he cannot leave it be, either. Something dark and animal rears up inside him.

"No claim?" He repeats. "What claim could I or my sect have on miserable refuse such as you? What claim could I possibly need in order to teach you a lesson? Cutting your throats would be

counted as a service to the world. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

The man crosses his arms. One of his companions is pulling frantically at his shoulder. "Give me one good reason why I can't bend that pretty thing over my knee."

A vicious snarl rips out of Wei Wuxian's throat and he lunges forward, but he's held back. Lan Wangji is holding him back.

"Why are you stopping me?" He bites out at him. "Why aren't you ending them yourself?"

Lan Wangji is angry now, enraged, Wei Wuxian can see. Why is he still letting these men breathe?

"Because my duty to my family comes first. As does yours. Wei Ying, think. Alive, they are nothing. Dead, they are an excuse to deal a killing blow to both our sects."

Wei Wuxian clenches his teeth and rips his arm out of Lan Wangji's grasp. He's right. Wei Wuxian hates that he's right.

The resentment is burning him up from the inside with no outlet. But Lan Wangji is looking at him, holding him steady with just his righteously angry gaze.

"Well?" Calls the man, who apparently has a deathwish. "I'm waiting."

"For what?" Wei Wuxian bites out, not looking at him. "Leave if you value your life."

"Waiting for you to give me a reason we can't have him. It's just one night. Who's to know? Who's to care?"

It's a ridiculous question. Beyond ridiculous. There is no single reason - the best one is that Lan Wangji would have the perfect excuse to kill them if they did indeed try. But Wei Wuxian is past thinking clearly. He sees only the worn, tired anger in Lan Wangji's eyes.

The dark, animal thing in his chest strains against his hold, bucking and shaking, trying to get free. Trying to curl around Lan Wangji and protect him from anything that could dream of making him feel so exposed.

"One reason?" Wei Wuxian asks, then turns to look at them again. He lets the resentment free, lets it seep out into the night in curling, questing tendrils. Entirely without thinking, guided by some deep-seated, abhorrent instinct, he wraps his arm around Lan Wangji's waist. "He's mine."

He lets the thick wisps of shadows flick at the cultivators' faces, cold and burning. They claw at their own skin, crying out, and finally, finally, turn and run. The resentment chases them out of the street, and then returns to him, preening.

Once their screams have died out, and the resentment has settled back beneath his skin, Wei Wuxian comes back to himself. With a sickening start he realizes that he is still holding Lan Wangji firmly against his side. He lets go and steps away, heart pounding.

"Sorry," he says. "I'm - sorry."

Lan Wangji is staring at him, expression unreadable. Wei Wuxian cannot believe he's managed to do something so thoughtless, so stupid, so...horrifyingly revealing.

"That was stupid. I didn't mean to...I was just trying to speak a language he'd understand. I'm sorry. You're not - you don't-"

"I understand," Lan Wangji says quietly. His gaze has shifted to Wei Wuxian's shoulder. He looks strangely fragile. Tall, straight, and graceful still, but...

"No," say Wei Wuxian, "no, that was uncalled for. I should have left when you told me to. I'm sorry I made things worse."

The shake of Lan Wangji's head is slight. "No more apologies. I will see you at the banquet."

He leaves then, sword in hand, one arm neatly folded behind his back. Wei Wuxian watches him go, and can't help but feel he's made yet another fatal mistake he can't take back.

He's mine.

Lan Wangji cannot get those words out of his mind. He cannot forget the sound of Wei Wuxian's voice, the certainty in it, the firm, inarguable tone. They echo in his ears almost palpably, an illicit caress that won't let the shiver in his spine die.

He feels the ghosts of Wei Wuxian's fingers on his waist for a week. He finds himself, at random intervals, placing his own hand over them, trying to exert the exact same pressure, to feel - but it is not the same. Not without the warm, hard length of Wei Wuxian's side against him.

The alien mixture of emotions from that moment twist and mix and become ugly parodies of themselves in his dreams. He does not know what he felt, then, anymore. Does not know what he feels now.

The only thing he knows with any confidence is that every time he sees Wei Wuxian thereafter, he aches, and aches.

Aches to simply tell him that he was right.

#my fic #mdzsnet #lan wangji #wei wuxian #the untamed fanfic #imported from twitter and unedited #just thought i'd share here because the concept of lwj experiencing harassment during sunshot is...too real now that i've thought of it #idk this isn't a complete thing with a plot it's just #something that could have happened #easily i think #maybe some day i'll formalize this and use it for the lead up to yllz smut?

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aetherarf · 3 years

Note

When you get the chance... Can you write a ChiLumi story involving hurt/comfort by Lumine after Childe (Ajax) uses Foul Legacy Form and goes too far? Please include trauma of sort.

To make this easier: It’s storming and they are on DragonSpine (I REALLY love this area)

Have fun and Thank you!

I did my best to make it... angsty. Here you go!

@luciana-scarlet

[[ TW: Blood, Violence, Aggressive Behavior ]]

[[ Summary: Lumine wanted to go to Dragonspine, to complete tasks long since forgotten, letting Childe come along to help, only for everything to go wrong.

Word Count: 2'773 ]]

It was just a mission. Lumine had been going through her pack, and... she found a box. An odd box that she... didn't exactly understand. After spending an, admittedly, long time looking through scrambled notes

[ Aether was always better with notes, with keeping track of what was important... ]

She found out it had something to do with Dragonspine. She thought she was done with that gods [or, perhaps, Archons] forsaken place, the chill only just having escaped her bones after so many months...

"Ah, you want a coat?" Childe asked, and Lumine nodded, "Well, my only question is... for what? I'm not the best at fashion, but I know how to keep warm as well as any Snezhnayan. Actually, probably a lot better."

Lumine lifted her hand, and held up two fingers-

"Warmth, then," He had long since understood, "Does Paimon need one?"

Lumine hesitated for a moment, looking over at Paimon, who was bundled up...

Would she need to come?

Lumine shook her head, then shifted her hand to lightly pat on her chest, signifying only she needed one.

"Right. Paimon is going to stay in the Teapot, then?" He asked, looking over at her, and how pleased she seemed in this moment... and Lumine nodded. "Where are you intending on going, anyway?" He leaned forward a little, to be closer to eye level with her, "Anywhere I could come to?"

Lumine thought for a moment, then held her hands in front of her mouth, palms upwards and fingers forward, and curled her fingers up, wiggling them as she moved her hands forward, and blowing over her hands...

Dragon.

She crossed her arms at the wrist, fingers inwards except her index and middle, which curled inwards, she then used one hand to touch the back of her neck, and one hand gestured that she was holding something, and the other signalled that it was trailing down a string.

Spine.

"Dragonspine?" Childe asked, and she nodded, "I thought you hated Dragonspine."

She had reached over to the odd box and showed it to Childe, he lightly dusting it off as he examined the fine design...

"This has something to do with Dragonspine, and... let me guess, your adventurers pride won't let you leave it?"

She nodded, and he chuckled.

"Oh, I'll come with you, then. Can't let you freeze to death... Plus it'd be good conditioning for when you come to Snezhnaya with me." He nodded to himself, as though approving something, "Right, I have a coat, and if it keeps me warm in Snezhnaya, it'll keep me warm in Dragonspine... I think I know a place in Mondstadt that we could get you a custom, fluffy coat..."

He was already thinking about it, and Lumine could only smile. She'd get the best coat for the cold that money could possibly buy, and she didn't have to pay a single mora.

... ... ...

Bundled up tight, Serenitea Pot left at the camp (she never liked bringing it up the bitter mountain), and she had already began to climb the massive beast made of ice and stone, with Childe right beside her.

For some time, besides her stopping and warming her hands at any nearby fire or seelie, it was peaceful, the two taking a few brief moments to look over the ocean of snow resting over the rest of the mountain ...

Then Lumine began to shiver, and they went onward, likely to the next source of heat, or just out of the wind nipping at her nose and cheeks.

"We should come here more often," Childe hummed, as they stopped at a small, abandoned camp, equipped with the bare essentials...

But, when you came prepared, it was just a pleasant head start. Set up in a large, empty cave, there wasn't too much fear of asphyxiation, and it seemed mostly abandoned, other than a few animals.

Lumine was doing her best to start a spark with two stones, until there was a small, promising flame, setting a pot near it--

"Hmm..." Childe looked out the entrance to the cave, "There's a lot of Hilichurls nearby... I'd rather not get disturbed in the middle of a good time by them, you know?"

She was motionless for a second, then looked up at him, staring blankly for a long moment...

"Well?" He asked, a grin on his face, and she just sighed...

They probably have some reasonably fresh food stores there...

Her feelings on Hilichurls were awkward at best, but, at the end of the day, they were openly aggressive against humans, even whose who truly had no ill intentions and did everything in their power to leave them be, so she used that as an excuse to comfort herself.

Lumine nodded, and Childe cheered in excitement, jumping up, "Yeah! Come on, come on, let's do this!" He laughed excitedly to himself, grabbing her hand and hoisting her up to her feet, all but dragging her ahead as she struggled to keep herself from falling face first into the icy ground.

It didn't take long for them to get out of the cave, and... Lumine looked around, there truly wasn't much. She wanted to argue, to insist that the Hilichurls wouldn't bug them, but Childe turned and looked at her, a wild look in his eyes...

... He needs to vent energy.

Despite not really knowing where to go, and plenty of dragging Lumine around until she finally smacked his arm, a single warning before she'd leave him to freeze in the snow, and they found themselves to a camp... Lumine looked at the area, it seemed to try and house itself beside a sharp cliff, to hide from the bitter cold, but...

Avalanche.

She grabbed Childe's hand, tugging at it a little, and as he looked at her, she shook her head with a pouty frown. Sure, there were Hilichurls, but...

"Nah, I got this," he dismissed, not looking at her for a second longer, "You ready?" He asked, and his blades appeared in his hands, and the frost already began to freeze the tips, the blades...

She sighed, and with a single moment, her sword was in her hand. She looked at the guard, the eye-like structure that stared right back at her... Dread filled her gut, but that feeling seemed to become more and more prominent, nowadays...

"Now!" Childe shouted, with a wild laugh, and he had dashed ahead, the Hilichurl's ears popping up from their fluffy heads in their surprise at his volume, and then chanted out their own cries, running towards the both of them, and Lumine could only helplessly chase as Childe seemed content to destroy anything that moved--

And the battle was over quickly. Of course it was, Childe was thorough and quick, and his blades shattered within seconds as soon as he was done, but he was still looking around...

"Is that really it?" He asked, barely panting, "That wasn't anything... Just a dumb few... Hili... Churls..."

Lumine tilted her head to the side, looking up at him, and suddenly... the mild warmth from the sun disappeared, and a shadow loomed over her--

She was only able to turn around just enough to see a massive Mitachurl towering over her, and then with a brutal swing, she was hit right in the stomach, and thrown into the stone cliff face.

"Finally!" Childe snapped out, his blades returning, and he threw himself at the Mitachurl-

Lumine could barely even get herself off the ground as she helplessly looked at the scene before her-- Childe had not even gotten a single strike, his blades trying to hook into the chest of the beast, to rip open its flesh and to watch its innards fall out...

But the cold froze his blades, and they shattered like glass, and he fell to the ground, awkwardly mangled as he was too dazed to realize that he was not fighting, he was...

"Ajax!" Lumine shrieked, shrill enough that the Mitachurl had focused on her again, and with an unsteady grip upon the blade, the agony of its corruption crawling up her hand...

She could only purify herself, and the dread that hangs over her, and fills her lungs like smoke.

As it ran to her, she thrust her blade forward, piercing its face as its blood spewed onto her face, but what she didn't expect was ,just a bit above her own mark, a purple spear thrust out from it, just an inch from her face, the tip of it causing the lightest cut on the tip of her nose, holding her breath in pure terror, but the spear was ripped back out, and the Mitachurl weakly lifted its hand to the hole, before...

It all turned to dust, the bitter wind of Dragonspine whisking it away, and now... all that stood beyond it was the nightmare of Lumine's dreams.

"Oh," he said, spinning his spear of electro in one hand, the Foul Legacy's massive maw opened, but spoke without needing to move it at all, words coming from deeper within, "You know, I kind of like it when you look afraid." He said, idly, "Reminds me of when we met... the only worthwhile fight, beyond my masterrr..." He trailed on the end of the word, letting himself gently fall to the ground, walking closer, and closer, and when Lumine tried to jump out of the way-

The spear shot into the stone wall behind her, any movement in that direction would lead to electrocution...

And in the other direction, a spear of hydro. Touching it would, at best, freeze her hand, at worst, kill her flesh with cold and ice.

And before her, the Foul Legacy stood, staring down at her.

"Why can't you let me have my fun?" He asked, getting down on one knee, and Lumine lifted her hand, her hand hitting the stone wall, but she still held her blade, it twisted, pointing at the Foul Legacy with her iron grip...

He leaned closer, the massive maw widening more, enough that if he so desired, he could crush her head in a single snap, and roaring right into her face, she flinching, closing her eyes tight until he ceased...

And he panted.

"Tell me," he demanded, "Why can't you let me have my fun? Maybe," his head twitched, tilting back and forth rapidly, "Only you can entertain me..."

She knew this wasn't Ajax. She knew, deep down, it wasn't. Perhaps, perhaps the body was his, and he was the host, but as she looked into that single eye...

Holding onto her blade, she thrust it into that blue eye, stabbing it into the Foul Legacy's eye, getting it well over halfway in before it threw its head back in agony, thrashing around, "It-it burns! IT BURNS!" It shrieked out, and she only cursed herself, knowing the burning would fled to Childe's mind as well...

And as it held its own head, it bashed into the cliff, and above--

The rumbling.

The chaos.

And the encompassing darkness as snow had begun to fall,

Avalanche.

She could see, however, as though time slowed, there was a slight overhang, and...

She pressed herself to the cliff, and watched as the Foul Legacy be consumed by an oddly beautiful sheet of white and...

And it was over. She breathed heavily, seeing the mound of snow... A distant thought, she pondered if she should leave, but-

No matter her hatred of the Foul Legacy, that was Childe's body, Ajax's soul within that cursed form.

Not wanting to risk her Anemo to turn the snow to ice and to shred him to pieces, she fell to her knees- and dug.

Her hands- her gloves quickly became wet after digging, the heat of her own body, and she could feel her skin burning with the cold, digging longer and longer, tears falling, and freezing on her cheeks before they could fall to the ground, until--

The handle of her sword appeared, and the eye was fixed forward, before, it jerked to look at her, and the faux eyelids seemed to narrow, amused with the situation...

She let out an animalistic snarl, her hatred to the weapon leading to her grabbing the handle, grabbing it and throwing it off to the side- she knew she couldn't let its disease spread, but in this moment she did not care...

But it meant that he- Ajax, was just below, and a few more moments of digging had shown his face, and blissfully enough... there was no wound. It had not harmed him, thankfully.

She grabbed the sides of his head, and she put hers near his, her forehead and tip of her nose against his...

He was breathing.

She offered herself just a second, a second of knowing he was safe...

Before she continued to dig, and eventually, she had gotten him from the snow and the frost, carrying him back to the little camp they had, only stopping for a second to grab her sword, and a few other things she could quickly shove into her satchel.

... ... ...

Since she dragged him back, she had not left his side, never more than just a little bit aways, and she would keep looking back at him, bundled up, and tucked inside the sleeping bag...

Lumine sighed, and she returned to cooking. She didn't really care what was in there, some frozen vegetables [or, truly, should she say plants in general] she took from the Hilichurl camp, some meat, and a bunch of water [again, she should just say melted snow], so it'd be easier for Childe to just drink and then go back to sleep.

She hated Dragonspine, nothing ever good from this cursed mountain, having slaughtered its people once, and it wanted to slaughter any others who remained.

And right now, that meant her and Ajax.

Looking at the soup, she decided to throw some seasonings in there, just to, hopefully, make it more palatable. Childe wasn't picky, but... She never did like it when anyone would insult her, it was rare, but from time to time a foolish knight would say she ought to be at home, taking care of a man, and there was nothing more she hated than that...

But she did like taking care of one man, maybe just a bit... when he needed her. Not like he said she should do that, in fact, he acted more like a housewife than she did.

.. Miserably, she chuckled.

Childe weakly began to cough, and if she had ears of a dog, they'd be perking up, and she immediately rushed over, moving to her hands and feet to crawl a little closer, and Childe... weakly opened his eyes,

"Hey," cough, "Hey baby... How dead am I?" He asked, and she shook her head, shifting to sit on her knees, and looking over him, her hand resting over his heart... But he rested his hand atop hers, eyes closing, but he smiled in an almost... delirious way.

Childe inhaled... and exhaled.

"I know," he said, "You don't like it when I do it. If I'm honest, I don't like it either... feels like I'm cheating."

She shook her head, not happy at all with his only concern being 'fairness'... but he chuckled.

"I'm kidding... well, about the cheating thing." He inhaled, and exhaled, "I was just... I guess I was scared, but I scared you, too..." He sighed, his head lolling to the side.

Lumine closed her eyes for a moment, and sighed, "I don't want to come back to Dragonspine again."

Childe opened his eyes fully, propping himself on his elbows as he looked at her, "You," he swallowed thickly, "Didn't you have a... uah... Box? Box for Dragonspine?"

She just shook her head, and as Childe tried to sit up, she took the liberty of helping him, pulling him to her, and once he was sitting up, she took a second to hold him, likely excusing it to herself as 'just helping', and not that she wanted to hold him after horror of everything.

"I won't..." cough, "Press it... But I do want to know," Cough, cough, he sounded so miserably weak, "What are you cooking? Smells... good... or maybe I'm just really hungry."

As though on cue, his stomach grumbled, and Lumine could only smile helplessly... How... how silly. How ridiculous. She pressed a kiss to between his eyes--where she plunged her blade before, and got up to go get him some, noting to eat hers as quickly as possible, because knowing him, he'd probably inhale it in the fraction of a second if he had the chance.

#genshin impact #childe #lumine #chilumi #childe x lumine #luciana scarlet #request #bark writes #hurt and comfort #angst #angsty bark

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komfortkiri · 3 years

Text

HELP WANTED (PART 2)

WOLF QUIRK F!READER x HANTA SERO x EIJIRO KIRISHIMA WORD COUNT: 2,997 TW/CW: ABSENT PARENT MENTION (I know some people get really bothered about absent parents)

NOTES: No banner yet. And yes, I posted two parts in one day BECAUSE I’M LIVING FOR THIS. The next part I’ll include things from Kiri and Sero’s POV. I got tired toward the end of this one and wanted to finish and post it before going to sleep.

Your alarm went off at 6:45 AM, allowing you more time to actually get ready and look like a decent human being.. well, sort of. You laid there for a moment, though, thinking that if this really went well, you could be leaving within the next week. You’d have to tell your father and though he’d be hurt, it wasn’t like you wouldn’t come back to visit. With a deep breath, you threw your legs off the side of the bed, holding your arms over your head to stretch. The stretch was so good that you almost fell back into your mattress and went back to sleep but you shook your head and rose to your feet, proceeding to your bathroom to shower.

After you took your shower from Hell, you walked out of your bathroom and back into your room, making your way to your closet to browse over the clothes you had. You realized quickly that you should probably do some upgrading to your wardrobe but you’ll worry about that another day. Your eyes scanned over everything and nothing really stood out to you so you pulled out your phone to check the weather, seeing that it was pretty cold out— roughly 23 degrees. Coffee definitely sounded luxurious right now and that thought alone made you check the time to see that it was now 7:15 AM. You took a little longer in the shower but the scorching water felt like Heaven to you.

You sighed, taking a long-sleeved, burgundy turtleneck half-shirt off of a hanger along with a pair of black high-waisted jeans. You tossed both articles of clothing onto the bed then went to your small dresser in the corner of your room to open the top drawer, pulling out a white colored bra and a matching pair of panties to go with it. You closed that drawer then opened the second drawer, getting some black socks that rose to just under your knee. Once you had everything, you dropped your towel then threw your undergarments on, along with your socks.

During your dressing, you received a text message from the Kiri person so you rushed over to it, hoping they weren’t cancelling the get together. Relief washed over you whenever you read the message.

FROM KIRI: Morning! Wanted to send you a text to tell you that me and my roommate are getting ready and should be at the coffee shop closer to 8:30 AM. We still on?

You replied rather quickly, it was almost creepy.. like you were waiting for a text.

TO KIRI: Good morning! Yes, of course! I’m getting ready right now as well.. I may be there earlier than you both since it’s right around the corner from me!

Once the message delivered, you threw your phone back onto your bed then put on your shirt and pants, which had a special made hole just for your tail, then walked over to your full body mirror hanging on the wall. ��Not bad.. Not bad at all.” It was almost like you were hoping these were men that you were meeting. You scoffed at your thought, nah. You walked back to the bathroom to grab your hair brush, one for the hair on your head and another for the fur on your tail. It was weird in a way.. you had to color coordinate what you used for your tail because the fur wasn’t as soft as your actual hair was. Once you finished grooming yourself, you put on a pair of flat-bottom, over-the-knee, black boots.

Time, what was the— shit! Your damned tail, taking so much time to brush through. It was now 8:05 so you had to rush a little bit if you wanted to be extra early and order what you needed so you grabbed your black trench coat off your coat rack, grabbed your phone then your backpack that held your wallet and other necessities that you may need throughout the day and booked it out of your room and out of your front door. Your dad must have had to work this morning, considering his car wasn’t out front but nonetheless, you expected as much from a police officer.

NO TIME TO THINK, you thought so you turned in the direction of the coffee shop and started walking. Your walking turned into walking fast then into.. running, which doesn’t affect you much considering it’s part of who you are. You thankfully had a bottle of perfume with you, just in case you smelt like a wet dog and you sprayed a few pumps amongst your coat and a few on your neck. You took a minute to catch your breath right outside Camille’s front door then walked in.

“My, my.. Look who it is! If it isn’t my dear Y/N! I haven’t seen you in a few weeks, must be pulling extra shifts at the animal shelter, huh?” Camille practically rushed to you, bringing you into a hug. All you could do was smile and accept her embrace then return it. If you were being honest, you really needed the hug. “Hi, Camille! I’m sorry I haven’t been visiting like I normally do. I have picked up a few more shifts so I can save up for a place of my own.” You took a seat at your usual spot, right up close to where she made most things. There was a small little bar, in which, Camille practically saved your seat every morning when you started coming in. She was like a mom to you, which was nice in its own way considering yours wasn’t worth a shit.

Camille knew just about everything about your life so you felt awful knowing that you hadn’t been around in a few weeks but you had to do what you need to first. “You know, darling, whenever you stopped coming in, these two very handsome boys started coming in every morning. It was almost fate in a way. They kept me company while you were gone, but don’t get me wrong, I’m glad my favorite girl is back.” Boys? Was this elderly woman really trying to hint at hooking you up right now? All you could do was shake your head and laugh as she set your usual in front of you— hot hazelnut coffee, extra sweet. You lifted the glass mug to your lips, speaking from behind it, “Boys, huh? Camille, are you trying to set me up?” A smirk formed along your face as you took a sip of the coffee, humming softly in satisfaction, your ears falling back some. She always did make the best coffee, it never failed.

The older woman laughed then leaned back onto the counter opposite from the one you were at, “Now, you know I wouldn’t meddle into your love life, dear. All I’m saying is, they are complete gentleman.” She leaned forward on her elbow, whispering her next statement. “If I was year and years younger, I’d probably take both of them.” This made you snort then double over in laughter, “Camille! Shame on you!” All she did was shrug then before she could respond, her eyes lit up when she realized who was entering her shop. You noticed this look and raised an eyebrow, sipping your coffee. Camille realized your eyes were on her and she nodded toward the door, mouthing that’s them. You tried your best not to make it obvious but you turned your head just enough to the side to peer over your shoulder and boy, she was not kidding. However, these were definitely not boys.. they were pure men.

You quickly turned your head before they realized you were ogling them, your insides heating up. All you could think of was how the good Lord above took his sweet time crafting both of them. Your heightened sense of hearing allowed you to listen in on what was being said between both of the guys and Camille so you just barely turned your left ear to the side, lifting your coffee again to take another sip.

“My boys! Where have you been? Fighting crime as usual?” Camille greeted both with a big hug each before one of them answered her. “Yes ma’am, you know us. We have to make sure nothing happens to your wonderful coffee shop.” Your heart skipped a beat at that statement. Smooth. “Always such sweethearts, come. I want you to meet another regular of mine.” Please don’t, please don’t, plea— “Y/N?” Your face was probably as red as a beet at this point but you turn anyway with a smile that was semi-forced. You hadn’t much prepared well on talking to… very, very attractive men. “Boys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Eijiro and Hanta.” You shook each of their hands, your insides felt like they were being lit on fire at this point.

The man known as Kirishima smiled, “You can call me either Ei, Eiji or Kiri, though.” The fire was immediately put out by his statement. You were thanking all the Gods that you didn’t have your coffee in your hand because you would have dropped it. “D-Did you say Kiri?” You cleared your throat, scratching the back of your head nervously.

“Yeah, do you know me? I mean, I’m a pro-hero but do you know someone I know or—“ You cut him off, not meaning to, but you had to get it out. “No, I.. I inquired about the roommate ad you had put up. We texted this morning and last night?” Kirishima and Sero’s eyes widened and they looked at each other. Something tells you they really weren’t expecting the person they were meeting to be a woman, but you were in the same boat because you didn’t expect for the two people you were meeting to be two gorgeous piece of asses either.

Sero spoke this time as he looked back at you, “So you are looking to be our roommate?” You blushed a soft shade of pink, not really knowing how to properly answer that but you did anyway. “Well, I-I didn’t really plan on you guys being, well… guys.” Both men laughed then Kirishima sat next to you, Sero sitting next to him on the other side. Camille put their coffees in front of him, Sero’s was partnered with a bagel. She gave you a wink then rushed back to the kitchen, peering out the little window in the door. All you could do was shake your head with a grin. “If it makes you uncomfortable, you definitely don’t have to move in with us but we’d like to be your friend.”

You smiled at that but thought of the trouble you’d get yourself in just by being their friend. It was almost impossible not to yank both by their collars to the bathroom and— “Wolf quirk, eh?” Sero’s voice shook you out of your inappropriate thoughts. It’s almost like he knew where your head was spiraling to. “Y-Yeah. My dad is also part wolf as well.” You nodded, clearing your throat even though you really didn’t need to as there was nothing to clear.

“What about your mom?” Sero pressed, not knowing that talking about your mother was something you hated doing. You sighed quietly, eyes darting in front of you to a blank space on the white wall in front of you. Your ear fell back, tone filled with… hatred when you spoke, which you didn’t intend for, but your burning rage for her was not controllable. “Don’t know her. She left not too long after I was a baby. Just up and left in the middle of the night and nobody has seen her since.”

Kirishima looked at Sero, eyes saying way to go, idiot. He wanted to lighten the mood so he changed the subject quickly, “So, uh.. about your quirk..” You three sat there for what felt like hours just talking, having casual conversation. They asked about your quirk, showing high interest in every aspect of it. You reassured them that you didn’t shed hair so they didn’t need to worry about any of that. You didn’t realize that they were pro-heroes until they told you their hero names and you almost choked on your semi-hot coffee. You had heard of both but you never really are around the action to put a face to the name. They both do a lot of good work around your city, in which, you are thankful for with your father being on the police force. Without them, your dad would probably have been hurt or worse.

Your anger about your mother had withered away and you were really enjoying yourself with the two men next to you. Your tail was moving to-and-fro the entire time, meaning you were happy. It got silent at one point and that prompted to Sero clear his throat then bump his elbow into Kirishima’s own, basically trying to push on this conversation. Kirishima turned his body a little toward you, his tone was soft, “Um.. This roommate thing.. It’s obvious you aren’t a serial killer, unless you’re a really good actor. You don’t have to give us an answ—“ You held your finger up with a smile because it was clear he was about to start rambling on due to nerves and not wanting to overstep. “You don’t have to say anymore. I’m super down for being your roommate.” It seemed like relief washed over the both of them because they smiled at you. “Hell yeah, you can move your stuff in at any time. Just let us know when so we can help you.” Sero nodded in your direction and you nodded back with a smile.

Moving in.. with two insanely attractive men.. What could go wrong, right?

#Hanta Sero x Reader #Sero x Reader #Eijiro Kirishima x Reader #Kirishima x Reader #Hanta Sero #eijiro kirishima #mha x reader

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

A Lack of Color by SisterSpooky1013

2403 words / Rated M / Read it here on AO3

This is a Darkest Timeline fic. No fluff to be found.

Part of my Inspired By Songs series, this work is inspired by A Lack of Color by Deathcab for Cutie.

2010

The phone rang and she checked the time. She’d stopped answering his calls after 8, too heartbroken by the slur in his words and the pain in his voice, knowing that she was the one who caused them. If she could access the purely logical part of her mind she knew that it was his depression that was responsible for the fact that they could no longer be together, and his own actions after she left were the responsibility of no one but him, but when she heard the choked back sobs around his pleas for her to come home, she felt guilt so profound it twisted in her gut like a knife. Even her mother had gently questioned her as to whether leaving him alone was the right thing to do, whether that would really help him get better. She’d tried to explain that the point of leaving wasn’t to make him better, it was to save herself from going down with him, but she often wondered if this life she’d built for herself alone was much better than the one she’d left behind. Was coming home to an empty house devoid of the clatter of his keyboard and tiny piles of sunflower seed shells preferable to living with his ghost? At least when they shared a home she knew he was okay.

Home. Where was her home? Was it this impeccable, modern house just outside the city? Was it her mother’s house, where she’d spent her teenage years? Was it her apartment in Georgetown, long since occupied by someone new who would never know the depth of loss and joy that lived in its walls? Was it apartment 42, where she had loved, lost, and had Mulder returned to her? Was it the unremarkable home in the country she’d shared with him? These places all held meaning and memories, significance and importance in the story of her life, but in the end they were just buildings. Sticks and boards and concrete that housed each tear and yawn and laugh, that made space for her to fall apart and rebuild again, countless times. If home is where your heart is, then Mulder is her home, and he always will be. There is no distance great enough to separate her heart from his, even that of death or divorce, grief, pain, depression. Depression so profound that it snuffed out the spark in his eyes and drained the life from his smile. Depression that robbed him of his passion for everything, including her. Depression that made her feel invisible and unimportant. Depression that destroyed her home.

It was just past 7, so she picked up the phone, hoping that a sober voice would come through from the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hey. How are you?” He sounded good, like he had some energy. She was hopeful.

“I’m okay, just reading. How are you, Mulder?”

“I’m okay. Hanging in there.”

Silence hung between them. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want to ask him why he’d called or he may think she didn’t want to talk to him, so she said nothing. She heard him swallow on the other end of the line.

“I miss you” he breathed, and she could feel the ache forming in her rib cage. She closed her eyes.

“I know. I miss you too.” She fought to keep her voice neutral. She didn’t want to go to the dark place, not tonight.

“Will you come over?” He asked, and she noticed that he didn’t say ‘come home’ just ‘come over,’ which was different than all the other times. He sounded more alert, and she felt something akin to hope tug at her heart.

“Uh, I can, sure, if you need me to.”

“I do need you.” His voice was low and she felt a twinge between her legs. This wasn’t the voice of the Mulder she knew and loved, but she could hear him in there, underneath all the hopelessness. She flashed on the desire in his hooded eyes when he used to hover over her, devouring her body with animal-like urgency. What she wouldn’t give for him to touch her like that again.

“Okay, I’ll be there in about a half hour.”

He sighed, maybe from relief. “Thank you, see you soon.” The line went dead.

She had the urge to shower, to shave, to put on a pair of the sexy panties that were now relegated to the back of her underwear drawer, but she resisted. Too many nights she had paraded around in front of him only to be ignored. Too many times she had reached for him to find him unresponsive, not returning her embrace. Too many times she had slipped her hand into his boxers only to have him push it away, rejecting her advances. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, recalling the ache in her bones as she longed for physical contact. She had gone 7 years without having him in that way, but found that it wasn’t as easy to revert back to a platonic partnership. It was more than just desire, though that was there too. Their physical connection, once established, rooted her to the Earth in a way she never knew was possible. When he was inside her she was more present, more aware of her place in space and time than she had ever been or ever would be again. She hadn’t known that she wasn’t really alive until he breathed his hot, salty breath into her lungs and ignited her. He was her oxygen and without him, she suffocated and slowly faded away. She only barely escaped before she died out for good.

Settling on brushing her teeth as the sole means of preparation, she got in her car and drove to his house, their house, feeling nervous and afraid. Stopping to get out and open the gate at the end of their long driveway, she was reminded of so many nights coming home from work, wondering if today were a good day. If she’d get some shred of the man she loved, or spend the evening staring at his closed office door, eating dinner alone. Going to bed alone. Waking up alone.

“Quelquefois, on est seul chez les hommes;” The quote from Le Petit Prince had never meant so much to her as it did then.

Pulling up in front of the house, she took in the neglected lawn, the porch swing he’d built for her dilapidated, the steps rotting. The house itself seemed to embody their relationship; initially bare and full of potential, blooming into a safe haven with the care of their love, only to collapse under the weight of his demons. She killed the engine but stayed in the car, debating turning around and leaving. Why was she here? What did she stand to gain from answering his call? It was pure hope that drove her. Unrelenting need. As much as she tried she couldn’t give up on him, on them. Would she ever be able to truly walk away from him? Only time would tell. Today, it would seem, was not that day.

As she sat in her turmoil, she saw light escape the front door and his tall shadowy frame appeared, his silhouette gaunt, his hair wild and unkempt. Despite everything, her heart leapt and she felt drawn to him, her true North pulling her magnetically towards home. She exited the car and walked towards him slowly, trying to read his body language and set her expectations realistically. As she maneuvered the steps he came forward, holding out his hand to her.

“Those are getting a little perilous, I keep meaning to fix them” he joked good naturedly, the soft pads of his fingers brushing her palm. Not the hands of someone who was going to hold a hammer anytime soon, she noted. Not the calloused hands of the man who built this porch himself 7 years ago. They stood awash in the light that poured from the open door, hands still clasped. She searched his eyes and all she found was sadness, which was actually an improvement. The last time she’d had occasion to meet his hazel irises, they were empty, devoid of any feeling good or bad. He was gone entirely. Moving from his eyes, she noticed that his cheeks were ruddy and dry without her reminding him to moisturize. It looked like he’d probably shaved recently, though now it was grown into an almost-beard. His lips, though, they were still him. She bit her cheek to keep from crying, wanting more than anything to kiss that mouth, to tug that lip between her teeth. She closed her eyes.

“Thanks for coming over” he said, his voice flat.

“Of course. What did you need?” They’d done this dance before. Where’s my birth certificate? What’s the password for the online banking account? Where is the key to turn off the gas fireplace for the summer? When are you coming home? He always found a way to lure her back in. she could never resist him.

“I just wanted to see you” he replied, and she was surprised to see him roving his eyes over her body, sighing as they came to rest on her cleavage. When was the last time he’d looked at her that way? There was that throb again between her legs. She was afraid to move.

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders in a hug, squeezing her to him. She stiffened at first in surprise, but then melted into him, her arms threading around his waist and her head falling against his chest. Home. He smelled metallic, the signature scent of his sweat. No one else smelled the way he did. It was what she imagined the core of the Earth might smell like. He sighed against her and she felt the rush of air from his nose blast against the crown of her head. What a specific feeling to miss. What a strange loss to understand.

His arms loosened and slid down her sides, grazing the dip of her waist, then her hip, and finally passing over the curve of her ass where he gripped her, lifting her up. She inhaled sharply and moved her hands to his shoulders, allowing him to carry her inside and to their abandoned bedroom like a bride, only this was the end of the romance instead of the beginning. He laid her down on the bed and started to suck at her neck while fumbling with the button of her pants. Her eyes were wide on the ceiling, wanting to stop him and ask what he was doing, what it meant, but she didn’t. Even as her mind raced, her body was opening like a flower, straining towards the sunlight of his touch, desperate for nourishment that had so long been withheld. She could feel that she was dripping wet, and she allowed him to strip her pants from her legs in one fast motion, pushing her shirt up to reveal her breasts as he unbuckled his belt. The animalistic way Mulder wanted her had always been a huge turn on, the lust in his eyes as he tore at her clothes and feasted on her body sending her over the edge.

But that was not what was happening now.

He wasn’t looking at her. He hadn’t kissed her, not once. He didn’t want her, he wanted her body. Freeing his erection from his jeans without even bothering to pull them down, he moved to line himself up with her entrance. He still had his T shirt on, her shirt askew as he grasped one breast in his palm, pushing inside her. She let out a single cry as her long-neglected body accommodated him once more, and he didn’t even look up. Didn’t ask if she was okay, hadn’t checked to see if she was ready. She could admit that it felt good, but not that good. This wasn’t how they made love, or had sex, or even fucked. Never once had he skipped right to pleasing himself. His strict “ladies first” policy was a non-negotiable, a given. So as he barreled into her, his eyes on her breasts, she brought her hand to cover her eyes as hot tears rushed down the sides of her face, collecting in her ears.

He finished within a minute, grunting as he came inside her before collapsing on her chest. Eventually he rolled off of her and pulled up his jeans, then grabbed her by the waist so that she was spooned against him, naked from the waist down.

“I’m sorry, I know that probably wasn’t the greatest for you. I’ll make it up to you next time” he whispered hotly into her ear. He held her until he fell asleep while she lie there, shell shocked, realizing that as bad as this all had been, it could get worse. She thought that being completely ignored was the worst way he could hurt her, but she was wrong. This, being treated like a vessel, was so much worse.

She slipped out of the bed and found her clothes on the floor, leaving him snoring. As she walked out the front door and carefully navigated the porch steps, she vowed to herself that she would not set foot in this house ever again.

It was not a promise she would keep.

*Authors note: “Quelquefois, on est seul chez les hommes” translates to “sometimes, one is alone among men”

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #darkest timeline

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hopekiedokie · 3 years

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The Dreaded First Day of School (single dad!jimin)

SUMMARY: On his son’s first day of school, we learn that the badass, leather jacket wearer, and tattoo clad single dad might not be so tough after all. Or maybe, his soft little son isn’t as pure as he ought to be. (In short, Jimin’s baby is growing up and he’s not prepared for it.)

GENRE: fluff, humour, maybe angst if you squint hard enough

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

NOTES: So Jimin isn’t supposed to be a mean or awful dad here. He’s just still not totally equipped to be one even after five years now. This might become a mini series with Ms. Y/n being Haneul’s teacher in the future. Who knows? Also, the photo is not mine.

POSTED ON: 26th March, 2021

What the actual heck is this??

Jimin has seen a lot of crazy things in his life but this, whatever is happening in front of him, is something he truly cannot believe.

You see, today is his son's, Haneul, dreaded™ first day of school.

The kid was up until 3 in the morning, crying his eyes out. He kept begging Jimin to not let him go, saying things like “I’ve been a good boy.” or “I don’t know those people.” or “Please, daddy, I don’t want to go!”

Half of the time, Jimin didn’t even understand what he was saying because he was crying so much.

The worst part is that Jimin had half the mind to give in to all these excuses and to just let Haneul attend school next year.

Contrary to popular belief though, he’s not entirely an awful example of what a father should be. In general, yes, he’s done a lot of questionable things. But in particular, as a father, he does like allowing his son to eat whatever junk food he wants, watch whatever is on the tv, or letting him up way past his bedtime (as late as 4am).

BUT he still has a smidge of decency left in his being and he actually wants his son to grow up decent.

(Which for the most part, is going along fine since Haneul is probably one of the sweetest and softest kids he’s ever seen. How though? Jimin has no idea.)

So with tired eyes and barely 4 hours of sleep, he dragged his son to school.

Even during the drive, Haneul was still adamant about skipping school and all the while, he kept using his cute crying voice that ALWAYS turns Jimin into mush.

Not this time though.

“It’s gonna be okay. You’ll meet a lot of friends and you’ll play with them! It’s gonna be fun, I promise.” This is one of the many things he said to lift his son’s spirits up.

All his efforts are still not enough to pacify Haneul as the tiny boy kept throwing a tantrum. Jimin even had to carry him after getting out of the car and during the entire walk to the school gymnasium where the assembly is, Haneul held his arms tightly around his neck.

To be completely honest, Jimin thought that it would be embarrassing but actually, he found the entire thing quite endearing.

Maybe it’s the narcissistic prick inside him that’s talking but seeing and hearing his son say that he’d rather spend time with him makes him feel like perhaps he’s not so bad of a dad after all.

Which brings us to the present.

To reiterate, Jimin cannot believe what’s happening.

One moment, his son is clinging to him for his dear life, then in an instant, he watched him grow up right in front of him.

In the worst way possible.

Not to be dramatic, but it was like watching his entire life slip away from his grasp.

The beginning of the end started when Jimin pointed to these three boys and insisted Haneul to introduce himself.

Boy, oh boy, oh boy, BIG mistake on his behalf!

He probably should’ve pushed his son to the “nerdier” looking kids. That would’ve helped him in the long run, as well!

At first, he watched in awe from a far as Haneul progressively turned less tense and more comfortable with those boys. They started with cute small smiles but it quickly turned into wildly animated gestures while comparing their Paw Patrol themed trolley backpacks.

“That’s my boy! Already making friends and it’s only been 5 minutes.” Jimin proudly thought to himself.

Okay, maybe Haneul is going to be fine. All that crying thinking Jimin did the entire night was for nothing! His cute soft son can totally do this.

Now, Jimin’s life altering moment comes. The time to actually say goodbye is here.

A teacher announces that they’re taking the kids to their respective classrooms and even if they cry or make a huge fit about it, the parents or guardians should stay where they are. They should refrain from “babying” their child.

Alright, now’s the time for Haneul to cry again! There’s no way he doesn’t cry even just a tiny bit…....Right?

Jimin makes eye contact with Haneul and, without any second thoughts, proudly mouths “I love you” while pointing to him.

Normally, Haneul is quick to return the gesture. Heck, he even goes as far as drawing a huge heart with his tiny pointer fingers!

But today, he doesn’t do that. No no no no no!

Instead, Haneul discreetly looks around him to check if anyone is watching him then……….

He shakes his head towards his father then faces back to his new friends.

Gasp! What is this???

Jimin has never felt so betrayed in his entire life! Not to mention, by his OWN son too.

This irks him so much.

So much so that he stands and gets close to his son, opposing the teacher’s instruction of letting their kids be.

Bitch, no. He’s getting his “I love you” from his son no matter what.

As he walks towards Haneul, it’s apparent that the kid had somehow done a complete 180 from his mood 10 minutes ago.

How can this be? How is he suddenly so cold towards his own man?

When he finally gets to Haneul, he literally, no joke, had to call his name 4 times to get his attention. The actual audacity of this kid!

“Hey, Haneul. Daddy’s gotta go!” Jimin says with his world famous “no eyes” smile.

Haneul’s face drops.

Bingo!

This kid is about to get a huge reality check or so Jimin thinks he is.

He’s waiting for any signs of despair, a sniff or maybe some glassy eyes but nothing happens.

Come on, where are the water works?? Where are all the hugs and kisses???

Haneul is like (・-・) to Jimin.

O-okay…….

“...”

Nothing???

“There’s a lot of scary strangers here……”

Okay, so that was really mean for Jimin to say bUT HE ONLY WANTS TO SQUEEZE EVEN JUST A DROP OF AFFECTION FROM HIM. Sue him!

Haneul finally opens his mouth.

Jimin quietly anticipates his son to return to his warm and loving self that he still doesn’t quite know where he gets from...

“So what, daddy? I’m a big boy! I don’t need you.”

(´⊙ω⊙`)?！

Uhm exCusE mE, but W H A T??

Needless to say, that statement hurt Jimin like a buttcheek on a stick.

However, he’s not gonna break away from his badass persona in front of all these people, especially around these little shits that they call “children”. He has an ✨𝓪𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬✨ that he strictly abides to, people!

And frankly, he’s not gonna let his son walk all over him.

So without any word, Jimin leans down to give Haneul a kiss. If he’s not gonna receive any affection through words then fine! He’s gonna get it through a different way.

Jimin’s lips are almost in contact with Haneul’s plush cheeks. They are literally a hair away that Jimin can feel the heat emitting from it but all at once, that heat is gone.

You know why?

Because Haneul is quick to do that matrix shit where he bends his back to avoid his father’s lips.

Then he saunters away, leaving Jimin hanging.

(๑´⊙ ₃ ⊙`๑)

Jimin calls him a couple times but again, he did not look back.

S I G H

Alright, then. He doesn’t normally raise his voice towards his son (nor disciplines him tbh) but oh boy, oh boy! This kid is practically asking for it.

He doesn’t give a fuck if he’s five, no son of his is gonna be allowed to treat him like that!

“HANEUL! GET BACK HERE. NOW!”

Well, that got him looking back towards his father.

Jimin points in front of him to which Haneul begrudgingly complies after taking a peek from his new found friends.

Haneul hears the other boys snicker behind him as he trudges towards his slightly pissed father.

When he’s standing right where his father wants him, Jimin leans his cheek down again for him to kiss.

Now, the other boys are blatantly laughing at him.

Maaaaaaaan. He can’t be a laughing stock on his first day of school! He needs to be as cool as his daddy!

As Haneul contemplates his life choices, Jimin patiently waits for his kiss. There’s no way Haneul is gonna reject him for the third time in a row within a span of two minutes!

Within a few seconds, he feels Haneul’s lidol babie hand against his cheek.

O M G

How 😭 cute 😭 is 😭 this 😭 ??

This has got to be one the softest moments they have shared together. AND it’s in front of all these people!

Take that Namjoon hyung for saying I can’t be a gentle and tender loving father!

Jimin is about to place a hand over Haneul’s small one to caress it but then Haneul pushes his face away.

“Just go, daddy!”

Before Jimin is able to process what just transpired, Haneul is already strutting towards the other kids, feeling like a king or a boss for bitch-slapping his own father.

This little fUqer!!!

Who does he think he is to act like this towards Jimin iN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE??

This is what happens when he lets his son spend too much alone time with his Uncle Jungkook and Uncle Taehyung.

But to be fair, Haneul is still Jimin’s son at the end of the day so…..like, maybe he shouldn’t be too surprised??

Yet, still, he truly cannot believe it.

All it took was 5 minutes and a rowdy set of friends, then his kid has grown up.

He apparently “doesn’t need him” anymore, according to the kid.

To think that Jimin got up early to make him those cute bento boxes. He even specifically made them look like various pokemons that Haneul fancies!

Wow. Just. WOW.

Excuse him, but he’s just gonna get in his car and crank up “Slipping Through My Fingers” by ABBA while he ugly sobs.

#bangtan #bts #bts scenarios #jimin #park jimin #jimin x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts humor #bts au #bts drabble #jimin drabble #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff

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mikwrites-archive · 3 years

Text

simple

✧ pairing: lee jihoon x fem!reader ✧ warnings: ✧ genre: hogwarts/magic au, single dad woozi ✧ wc: 2.8k

✧ a/n: happy birthday jihoon <33 !! this was very hastily written and kinda different than what i usually write but i hope u guys like it!!

The owl crashes into Jihoon’s kitchen window, one clear Tuesday morning, with a resonating thunk that shakes the pane, leaving a smudge on the glass.

“You saw that right?” Jihoon turns to Sunhee, his eleven year old daughter, who stares at him with wide eyes and cheeks puffed full with toast. She nods, swallowing. Jihoon debates as to whether he should go outside to check on it, but before he can make a decision, Sunhee squeals, pointing.

“Dad, look!” She rushes to the window where the disheveled bird stood, an envelope clasped in its beak.

“Sunhee, don’t-”

It’s too late, his daughter opening the window excitedly, yet to Jihoon’s surprise as he lunges forwards, the owl simply drops the letter on the sill, and flits away.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the letter is scripted with dark green ink, along with their household address, Sunhee’s name and bedroom.

What kind of joke is this? Jihoon squints, turning over and picking at the wax seal, Sunhee hanging over his shoulder curiously. Do we have a stalker?

He unfolds the contents, heavy parchment and a shiny train ticket, reading through solemnly. Your daughter has magical capabilities, it says. She’s invited to attend the school to better hone her talents.

“Dad, what does this mean?” Sunhee reads the ones he’s finished with, turning the papers over with wide eyes.

“It’s probably just some prank, I mean…” Jihoon suddenly flashes through instances that assure him it most certainly was not a prank.

He looks at his daughter.

Lee Sunhee was a witch.

Sunhee is two when she first exhibits any magical capabilities.

Jihoon hears her babbling in her room when he sends the babysitter off, features pinching together in confusion when he swears the sitter told him she was put to sleep much earlier. Peeking into her room, Jihoon blames it on fatigue when he sees her stuffed animals floating across the room.

Looking back, no amount of magic mishaps (and there were quite a lot), could have prepared Jihoon for this.

Diagon Alley.

It’s bustling with people, animals, and other mythical beings that Jihoon tried not to blatantly stare at in awe. The buildings are almost haphazardly cramped and stacked, large signs hanging off the doorway — Menagerie, Ice Cream, Joke Shop.

“It’s like something from a movie, dad! Like Avengers!” Sunhee whispers to him, clutching his sleeve. The image of Captain America riding a Hippogriff (that’s what Sunhee tells him excitedly when she pores through one of the books she finds while shopping for textbooks previously) calms Jihoon down somewhat.

“Jihoon?”

Turning at the sound of his name, Jihoon blinks at the familiar face in front of him.

“Jeonghan?”

He’s blond now, Jihoon notices, wearing robes like the other witches and wizards, a contrast to his normal style in the studio when they’d record.

“Hi, Uncle Jeonghan!” Sunhee chirps. “What’re you doing here?”

“My little sister is going into her first year, like you I’m assuming.” Jeonghan smiles, ruffling Sunhee’s hair affectionately, introducing her to the young girl standing at his side. “But I didn’t know you were a witch!”

“I didn’t know either!”

Jeonghan laughs, turning to Jihoon, who’s attempting to comprehend it all.

“How’re you holding up?”

“Barely.” Jihoon mumbles, and Jeonghan pats his shoulder sympathetically. Jihoon swallows, lowering his tone. “Did she… Did Sunhee really get her magic from her mom? Will I see her here?”

“Do you want to see her?”

It never occurred to Jihoon that Jeonghan might have known this entire time, and he bites his lip. You and Jeonghan always were close.

“Yeah.”

Jeonghan’s expression is mournful, and Jihoon glares at him.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“It’s not for the reason you think. You’ll find her soon. I’m sure she’s looking for you too.”

Before he can reply, ask more questions, a voice propels itself from behind.

“Yoon Jeonghan. What did I tell you about charming your hair to change colour to many times? You’re gonna go bald, you egghead!”

Jeonghan yelps as someone all too familiar, as if summoned by speech, tugged on his hair.

“Then I’ll just drink a hair grow potion! You know it’s-” suddenly realizing, Jeonghan straightens. The kids suddenly are attentive to what’s going on as well, an awkward blanket falling on the group.

“Have you been to the menagerie yet Sunhee?” Jeonghan quickly diverts attention. “C’mon, I’ll get you an owl. Or a toad. Or a cat. Whatever you want.”

“Let's go somewhere more quiet.” You offer once they disappear into the cacophonous shop of animals, and Jihoon nods, mouth dry.

You end up in a dim pub, too early to have many customers, leaving you both alone and free to talk.

“How have you been?” You ask breathlessly, shaking your head afterwards. “That was a stupid question.”

“It’s the only question you could have asked.” He shrugs.

“I’m sure you have more.”

“Only one. What happened?”

You pick at the grainy wood tabletop anxiously.

“I’m sorry. I want to tell you that before I explain. I know it doesn’t make up for anything, so I’ll just start now.”

You take a breath.

“Jeonghan’s family is a respectable one. Been around for ages; old roots, old money, old beliefs. Mine has been close friends with the Yoons for just as long, with the same kind of standards. Pure blood as some might say. There was even talk of an arranged marriage between me and him, but Jeonghan always did whatever he wanted, and that wasn’t one of them. And it wasn’t what I wanted either.”

Jihoon remembers being intimidated by Jeonghan, gathering the courage to ask him if you two were romantically involved, and Jeonghan had laughed in his face.

“Back then, the wizarding world and the human world were not as cohesive. Jeonghan and I were one of the few who ventured out frequently, back and forth, living outside of magic. Our families didn’t approve. Not that we cared, but then I met you. You remember it I’m sure.”

You smile at the memory, a disheveled Jihoon emerging from the recording studio just as you were entering to see Jeonghan, crashing into him, both your belongings scattering. While picking them up, you ended up sitting on the floor, talking, leaving Jeonghan wondering inside where the hell you both were.

“You were…” you can’t seem to bring yourself to say what’s on your mind. “When I realized I was pregnant, my parents were furious. I was scared. I had no assets, no support, but I wanted to have Sunhee. So I did. And I left her to you. It was only supposed to be until the human and magical tensions died down, and when I could separate myself from my family. But when that happened… I found you. You were at home, outside, playing guitar while Sunhee played in the yard. You didn’t see me. But I realized I couldn’t just barge back into your life. So I left again. I begged Jeonghan to not tell you about me. And in return he fairly won’t say anything about you to Sunhee. Part of me hoped Sunhee wouldn’t be magical. But I was looking all morning for you just in case. And you both look like you’re doing well.”

“We are.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” You hesitate. “Does Sunhee… ask about me?”

“More recently, ever since her Hogwarts letter. I know she got it from you.”

You were always magical, in some special way.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jihoon cracks a small smile, slightly melancholic. “You know I always liked telling people about you.”

“Dad!” Sunhee suddenly bounds up, clutching a domed cage carefully. “Look what Uncle Jeonghan got me!”

“I’m going to name him Horace!” She exclaims proudly at the brown owl who blinks at her slowly. Jeonghan’s little sister holds a fat tabby cat next to her brother at the entrance.

“Horace?” Jihoon wrinkles his nose. Sunhee nods adamantly.

“Horace. Horace and Sunhee!”

“I think Horace is a lovely name. My owl’s name is Winston.” You smile, and Sunhee suddenly realizes her father isn’t alone. “Maybe they can be friends.”

Sunhee nods shyly.

“You’re going into your first year right?”

She nods again.

“I’ll be seeing you around the castle then. I’ll be your Charms professor.” You proffer your hand, and Sunhee takes it.

You murmur a small promise to keep in touch with Jihoon if he wants before he moves to leave, and he nods, too quickly he thinks.

“Bye, Professor!” Sunhee calls, and you wave to her. “See you soon!”

When they walk away, Sunhee comments how pretty you are, and Jihoon’s heart sighs.

You look the same as you did all those years ago.

No matter how many letters Jihoon receives from Sunhee and you, he’ll never get used to the owls.

Their beaks and talons are too sharp for my liking, he writes to you, as your last correspondence teased him for his anxiety.

You’d both reconvened on amicable terms, though still slightly awkward, and he’s glad, lips curving upwards whenever he opens them.

You recount about charms mishaps in your class, ask him about his music and day, and tell him things Sunhee wouldn’t, like a suspected crush she has on a classmate.

Sunhee sends him a letter every week, even packages sometimes with unique sweets and moving photos, and requests of things to send from home like music or clothes or candy.

And a week before Christmas he gets an invite.

Jihoon,

Sunhee has been asking me constantly if you could come visit the school, and since the holiday break is coming up, I’ve received permission to have you come for a few days. We’ve extended it to all non magical families as well to make it fair.

I look forward to seeing you if you want to come!

You sign it naturally, Jihoon traces the signature, before putting it aside and writing his own reply.

Dear

He strikes it out after a momentary pause, thinking it was too formal.

Dear

Hi,

That sounds nice. I'd like to go.

See you then,

Jihoon.

“Merry Christmas Professor!” Sunhee shoves a neatly wrapped present at you, bouncing up to your desk after class, and you look at her with surprise. “Open it!”

Tearing into the paper, you stare at the small CD album that’s revealed. Woozi. His most recent album that was released last month.

“I’m giving it to everyone this year. I’m trying to make my dad famous here too.” She giggles, and you smile at her. “He’s coming later, so if you get the time to listen, make sure to tell him what you think!”

“I’ll do just that.”

You meet him at the lake, where Sunhee is feeding the giant squid pieces of toast, and Jihoon is watching her, hands tucked into his puffy jacket pockets.

“She’s been giving everyone your CDs.” You chuckle, and Jihoon shakes his head embarrassedly.

“I know. She must have asked Jeonghan to get them from the studio knowing I wouldn’t have given them to her.”

“I listened to it. Simple is my favourite.”

“It was for you. If you remember. I wrote it for you.” He confesses, but he’s sure you already know.

“Kind of ironic, considering I made your life more complex in the end.” You snort, and Jihoon laughs.

“But you made it better.”

“Don’t.” You implore him. “Don’t say things like that.”

“What do you want me to say then?”

“I call you baby / Baby’s called my happiness?” You examine the half finished scribbled lyrics on the paper you found lying around, and Jihoon comes up from behind, wrapping his arms around you.

“You’re my baby. My happiness.”

“Say it’s for Sunhee. Your baby. Your happiness.”

“It can be for both.” He adds quietly.

You don’t respond. You don’t think your heart could have handled it.

Jeonghan invites Jihoon and Sunhee to his house in the summer.

It’s his first time using Floo Powder, flinching back when Sunhee throws a pinch in the hearth, roaring green.

“You’re sure it’s safe?”

“Yes, dad.” She responds patiently, hiding her smile as Jihoon cautiously tiptoes into the fire, shouting Jeonghan’s address.

He falls on his butt on the lush carpet, feeling sorry for the ashes he’s scattered on the threads, and the hand he grabs is yours, helping him stand.

“Hello, Professor!” Sunhee chirps, shaking off her clothes as she appears steadfast behind her father a second later.

“Sunhee! You get taller every time I see you.” You pat the girl’s head fondly, and she beams under your casual affection.

Sunhee has shot up like a sprout in the past months, and breezed past her first year classes as a stellar student. You’d confided to Jihoon that all her teachers adored her, and he’d proudly stuck the letter to his corkboard of reminders. You had also been frequenting the Lee household, with Jeonghan most of the time, Sunhee understanding it was a friendship between you three.

And it was. For the most part.

Jihoon clears his throat, his hand still in yours, and you release it hastily, but Sunhee takes no notice, busy with her luggage and Horace.

“Oh, I can do that for you.” You sweep your wand at the bags, suspending them in the air, and move towards the stairs. “Make yourselves comfortable! Jeonghan went out to buy some things for dinner, so he’ll be back soon.”

“Dad?”

“Hm?” Jihoon’s preoccupied by the ornate clock on the mantle, with way more than two hands ticking away.

“Do you like the Professor?”

“Huh?” Jihoon coughs, turning to his daughter with wide eyes.

“I’m okay if you like her. She’s nice. I think she likes you too.”

“It’s complicated, Sunhee.”

“How?”

“I’ll tell you when we get home okay?”

Slightly disappointed, she nods, and Jihoon knows that he has to talk to you.

He doesn’t get a chance to talk to you alone without suspicion until the next evening.

“Where is everyone?” He comes downstairs from his shower, hair still damp as he looks for Jeonghan and Sunhee.

“Next door at Junhui’s.” You hiccup, holding out the bottle of alcohol. “Want some?”

“You’re drunk? Tsk, tsk.” He playfully scolds, and you snort.

“I’ve been thinking too much.” You expel a gusty sigh, flopping down on the sofa. “It’s summer break. I’m not supposed to think about anything.”

“What have you been thinking about so much?”

“You.” You giggle. “I think about your laugh, your smile, the way you used to fall asleep at your laptop working, your touch, your voice.”

He sits next to you, and your head lolls onto his shoulder.

“I keep thinking about how you don’t hate me when you should.”

“You know why I don’t hate you.” His fingers twitch, wanting to rest over yours on your lap, but he resists. You’ve moved to lie on his lap now.

“But you should.” You sigh, and Jihoon smooths your hair tenderly. You lean into his palm.

“I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

“Not handsome?” He grins wryly.

“No, very handsome.”

“Not smart?”

“Everything. You’re everything.” You breathe, and Jihoon sucks in a quick breath.

“C’mon, let’s go upstairs. We can talk more tomorrow.” Jeonghan was taking Sunhee to a match, Jihoon declining after earlier today he rode a broom for the first time, nearly falling off when a Bludger came flying at him. You make grabby hands, clearly signalling you didn’t want to stand, and he carries you gently up the stairs.

“Can you stay with me?” You murmur when he lays you on the bed.

“Of course.”

Jihoon rips the bandaid off immediately, and you and Sunhee stare at him incredulously. Sunhee is still donned in her Quidditch regalia, and your drunken headache is not helped by the sudden confession.

“Wait, what?” Sunhee holds her hands out as if to pause the situation, looking at you. “Is that true?”

You can only nod.

Sunhee sits back, hands folded in her lap, thinking hard.

“Can I talk to dad alone?”

You nod again. You force yourself to walk around the house, and Jeonghan sneakily suggests you eavesdrop. You tell yourself you won’t, yet somehow you end up hovering at the doorway nervously, straining to hear their conversation. Jihoon’s voice floats out of the crack.

“... Life is just simpler with her. And you. My babies.”

“You promised you wouldn’t call me that anymore.” Sunhee whines, and Jihoon laughs.

“So you’re okay with this?”

There's a pause.

“Yeah. I think so. I like the Professor. And I know you like her a lot too. I want to talk to her though.” She hesitates, and although you can’t see it, she’s smiling, and so is Jihoon. “My mom.”

“How’d it go?”

Jihoon stands when you emerge from Sunhee’s room, clearly waiting outside for you to finish.

“Good.” You glow happily. “We talked a lot.”

“Good.” Jihoon smiles, holding you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’m not going to make the same mistake again.” You declare to him affectionately. “I’m keeping you for as long as you’ll have me.”

“What if I say forever?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile, tugging him down gently to meet his lips.

“Then forever it is.”

✧ taglist: @seijoh @soranihimawari @peachy-yabbay

#caratwritersclub #lee jihoon x reader #lee jihoon imagines #woozi imagines #woozi x reader #svt x you #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios

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devendrasbeard · 3 years

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My Body Is My Weapon, So I Keep It Loaded

Prompt: Belly Bulge / Cum Inflation Relationships: Geralt/Eskel Rating: E Content warnings: Belly bulge, Explicit sexual content, Anal Sex, Crack!fic (kinda), but with a happy ending Summary: On his way to Kaer Morhen for winter, Eskel gets cursed by some faes, making his cock too big for any partner to handle.He turns to Geralt for aid, and Geralt is more than willing to lend him a helping hand (and more!)

Also on ao3!

Geralt was on his knees, his lips stretched thin around Eskel's enormous cock. He knew (and experienced himself more than once) that Eskel was well endowed, but this time it was just ridiculously too much. He barely took the head in his mouth and the tip was already bumping against the back of his throat. He looked up at Eskel with shock and amusement, eyes already watering.

Eskel tangled his fists in the bedsheets, using all his willpower to not buck his hips forward and choke Geralt even more. But he was already so desperate to get at least some friction around his cock, after all these long weeks of forced celibacy.

Geralt didn't want to believe him at first, when Eskel had arrived in Kaer Morhen frowning, slightly panicked and with a visibly big bulge in his breeches. "Geralt, you're not gonna believe it, but I need your help."

And so Eskel told him about that one time a few weeks ago, when he had tried to take a shortcut through a deep forest, instead of staying on the Path. He stumbled onto a fae sanctuary and before he could retreat, they've "attacked" him.

"They've put a weird spell on me and, well... My cock's now twice as big as usual," he sighed with a frown.

Geralt couldn't help but burst out laughing. "I don't see how this is a problem."

"You're laughing, but I couldn't get laid in over two months now," Eskel said weakly, shoulders slumping. "I've been in three different brothels on my way here and it all ended up the same - as soon as I undressed, the girls would just give me back my coin and straight up leave. 'No way in hell I'm gonna let you stick that monstrosity in me,' one of them even said."

Geralt threw his head back, muffling his chuckles with a fist. He wiped tears of mirth from the corner of his eye. "I'm so sorry this has happened to you, but at the same time it's the most hilarious thing I've ever heard."

"Geralt," Eskel let out an exasperated huff. "I need you to help me, I have no idea if the spell will wear off by itself. And also, please don't tell Vesemir."

"I am so fucking gonna tell Vesemir," Geralt grinned. "But first of all," he licked his lips, scooting closer to Eskel, "let me take a look at what were dealing with here."

Eskel undid his laces with an embarrassed huff, looking away from Geralt's face. Geralt slid his pants down and gasped. Eskel's cock was resting against his thigh and it was much bigger soft than Geralt's dick has ever been when hard.

"Fuck me," Geralt whispered with a hint of awe in his voice.

"Please don't tease me like that," Eskel whimpered, his cock already stirring under Geralt's hot gaze. "I'm hanging by a thread here, I'm damn sure I would stick it in a tree hollow by now, if it weren't so cold outside."

"No, I'm serious," Geralt replied, voice husky, gaze fixed between Eskel's thighs. "Will be a challenge for sure, but I'm so willing to try."

Geralt released Eskel's cock from his mouth with a loud pop. His lips were already red and swollen, and he wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes. "You're gonna fucking destroy me."

Eskel propped himself on his elbows and looked at Geralt with half-lidded eyes. His expression was pure lust, his fists still tangled in the bedsheets, but he exhaled deeply and forced himself to talk. "You really don't have to do this for me..." He huffed and swallowed thickly. "I will... manage somehow."

Geralt didn't say anything in response. Instead, he stood up and nonchalantly slid his breeches down, freed himself of his shirt and then got on all fours on the bed. He looked at Eskel over his shoulder, taking in the astonished expression on the other Witcher's face. "I want to do this for you. And I also want to see how it feels to be utterly ruined by you," he accentuated his statement by perking his butt up. "But if you want to fuck me, you have to work for it."

Eskel worked him open patiently and steadily, pouring the oils generously over Geralt's hole and his fingers. Geralt took him in eagerly, and he had already three fingers deep inside him. Geralt's heated moans and huffs send shivers down his spine and Eskel stirred with arousal and lust, hoping for his wait to be over soon.

"Can you fit another finger in?" Geralt's voice was dark and hoarse. He stared at Eskel from behind his shoulder, looking already wrecked - skin damp with sweat, eyes half-lidded, his hair a mess. "Open me up good," he stretched that last word out, making it sound so much like a needy growl that sent sparks of lust straight to Eskel's cock.

"Geralt..." Eskel started weakly, his mind going dark with arousal, all of his thoughts focused on the promise of sheathing his cock in Geralt's welcoming heat.

He took his heavy cock in hand and lined it up with Geralt's ass. Geralt shot him a half-angry look from behind his shoulder. "No way I'm gonna let you ram into me like this. I'm gonna ride you."

Eskel laid on his back and propped his head on the many pillows, watching Geralt intently from under his heavy lids. Geralt lined himself with Eskel's cock and started sliding down, excruciatingly slowly. Eskel's hands darted forward to grab on Geralt's hips, the tension almost impossible to bear. Geralt grabbed his wrists firmly and pressed them into the mattress. "Don't you fucking move," he coarsed, his jaw clenched and brows furrowed. "I need to concentrate."

Eskel watched mesmerized as Geralt slid down his shaft, inch by inch, exhaling deeply with every little twitch of his hips. By the time he bottomed out, Geralt was panting heavily, his forehead adorned with beads of sweat, eyes darkened with lust. He hesitantly released Eskel's wrists from his grip.

Geralt has never felt so full in his life, the stretch almost unbearable, stinging pain blurring his vision and causing his breath to hitch. No amount of preparation could make him prepared for this. He felt as if all of his insides have made space for Eskel to fill him out completely. "If you move, I'll die," he whispered, more to himself.

Eskel looked at him, eyes widened, the golden brown of his eyes swallowed by his blown pupils. He reached out with one hand and placed it just above Geralt's hardened cock, completely disregarding the way it was leaking precome onto his stomach. Geralt's abs, usually rock hard and firm, were now unnaturally bulged, his belly round and sticking out. Eskel shuddered with excitement and pure desire - when he pressed his hand more firmly to Geralt's stomach, he could feel his own cock twitch inside of him.

Geralt looked down at him, equally mesmerized and only a little bit worried. He's also noticed the bulged belly and the way he could feel Eskel both directly under his skin and deep on the inside. "Are we doing this?" he asked quietly.

Eskel nodded, licking his lips and placing another hand on Geralt's stomach. "I want to feel it move inside you," he whispered hoarsely. He then looked Geralt in the eyes and added, "At your own pace, I'll leave you in charge."

Geralt swallowed thickly and propped himself on Eskel's chest, the slight change of his angle already causing him to tremble. They both groaned at the new sensation. Having braced himself, Geralt started moving.

He moved so terribly slowly, still trying to get used to the enormous stretch and the feeling of being so incredibly full. Eskel's eyes were constantly fixed at his stomach, and he watched Geralt's belly round up and then turn flat again while he moved up and down. He pressed his hands down more firmly to not only observe, but also to feel how full Geralt was.

With every move of his hips, Geralt moaned and whined and Eskel moaned with him. The sensations were driving him crazy, even though Geralt didn't speed up at all, stretching his every move out to impossible lengths. Eskel looked up at his Witcher's furrowed brow, his forehead wet with sweat, lips twitching with every move, eyes fixed on Eskel's medallion. Geralt was somewhere else entirely, his body moving up and down along Eskel's shaft, but his mind and soul have reached a totally different plane.

Eskel reached out with his hands and skimmed them over the damp skin of Geralt's hips. He so wanted to grab him tightly, to pull him up and then ram back into him; he wanted to be fast, filthy and aggressive, but he didn't want to hurt Geralt nor break off the reverent feeling Geralt was clearly now experiencing.

Then Geralt closed his eyes shut, guiding Eskel's hands to grab his hips, Geralt's own hands resting on his round belly. "Do it," he whispered with a broken moan. "Ruin me, Eskel."

Eskel hesitated just for a few seconds, then sat straight up, pulling Geralt into a heated kiss - the first kiss since they've started - and moved his hips. The sound that left Geralt's lips was definitely not human, he growled like a wild animal, something feral and primal coming deep from within. He grabbed Eskel's hair firmly, pulling at it to expose Eskel's neck. He bit down to muffle the obscene sounds he was making with every move of Eskel's hips, and that send Eskel over the edge.

Eskel bucked his hips up a few last times, making Geralt's stomach bulge unnaturally, his thrusts frantic and unforgiving, every brush of his cock against Geralt's prostate making him leak streaks of precome. Eskel grabbed Geralt's thighs firmly, his fingers digging painfully into Geralt's flesh and he came - the sensation making him see white and shudder with every spurt of spend leaving his cock.

Geralt whined and wailed, his teeth still biting at the crook of Eskel's neck and he trembled under Eskel's touch, finally finding his own release. He kept quivering through the aftershocks, still holding one hand on his stomach, feeling Eskel's cock turn soft inside him, but still stretching him to the fullest.

He moved up very slowly, freeing Eskel's dick from the tight heat, and toppled onto the bed, panting heavily and unable to speak. He felt wrung out and awkwardly empty, but at the same time extremely satisfied.

After a moment, he turned to Eskel, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Do you think we need to tell Vesemir right away?" he asked hesitantly. "Maybe the spell will be lifted after I... dry you out?"

"You're fucking insane," Eskel replied, still unable to move nor open his eyes. "We can try lifting the curse this way, though," he smiled weakly.

"Oh, I think it's definitely more a blessing than a curse." Geralt chuckled, hugging him closer. He would surely not be able to walk straight for a week, but he was more than ready to try again soon.

-----

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

#this was the prompt i was the most scared off #it was supposed to be a crackfic idk what happened #just... hotness happened i guess #enjoy it either way my friends #witcher rarepair summer bingo #geralt x eskel #eskel x geralt #geskel #gereskel

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maddestzoomer · 4 years

Text

peach and strawberry

request from @soggy-enchilada - Hiya!!! Could I please request a Nancy x female reader, where the reader is an Australian exchange student?? Something fluffy, maybe drunkenly confessing feelings at a party or something?? Smut or no smut, doesn’t bother me at all. Thanks !!

warnings - underage drinking, a tiny sprinkle of angst, ya know, the ushe

word count - 1.8k

a.n. - this is such a cute concept like !! my heart :( i didn't realize what absolute trash i was for nancy until now lmao. thank you for requesting this story!! i had a blast writing it! feel free to give me your thoughts & opinions on it :)

It's not the calendar that marks the passage of time for Nancy- rather, it is the subtle shift in the way the air smells. Now, the air smells clean and floral, telling of spring and chirping birds. It was March now, and the party-goers were just beginning to come out of hibernation

Pressure builds on her shoulders, and so she puts on a pastel pink sweater and tries to remember how the actual hell you talked her into going to a party.

Maybe it had to do with the way her name fell from your lips, coated with that lovely accent of yours. Or- maybe it was the smile you flashed her as she agreed to come with.

It had all begun a couple of months ago. Nancy was assigned to show you around the school- to basically be your bud until the week ended.

But your friendship didn't end once the week did. It continued through the two of you hanging out and studying together, through the two of you making inside jokes and helping one another to pick out outfits. It was through those times together that a seed was planted, one that seemed to be growing rapidly.

Throwing on a pair of flats, Nancy prepared herself to see you, and in turn, go to a party she didn't really think she belonged at. You'd agreed to pick her up for a party she truly didn't want to go to. She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment, tilting her head to the side. She looked okay, she felt (kinda) okay, so maybe tonight would be okay.

Looking at her dainty gold watch on her wrist, she realized it was time for her to go- 9 o'clock, sharp. Taking a deep breath in, she sprayed some perfume on her neck that smelled of peaches and strawberries, then walking from her room.

And sure enough, as soon as she walked downstairs, there you were, waiting in your car. She smiled softly to herself, taking one last deep breath before walking out of the door.

Hurridly, she walked to your car, smiling as she got in.

"Hey there, Nancy! You ready to have some fun?" You gladly greeted, smiling brightly at the brunette sitting next to you. Goodness. That smile... It was enough to make Nancy's stomach fill with butterflies

Nancy smiled softly with a small frown as she looked to her feet, feeling something was there- a box, maybe. "Hi, Y/N- Um, what's down here?" She asked

"I probably should've moved that." You say, beginning to drive. "It's just some beer, they wanted me to bring something to the party. You can have one if you want." You tell her with a smile

Nancy softly bit down on her bottom lip, but eventually reached down and slipped a can from it's case. She didn't really like alcohol (the taste, the smell, the way it made her feel hot)- but she did want to have fun tonight. Plus, it's easier to be around a bunch of drunk teens when you, yourself, are a drunk teen.

Pulling at the tab, the can hissed open, filling the surrounding air with the smell of cheap beer. Nancy brought it to her lips, taking a small sip, then a bigger gulp to help it go down a little easier.

"So uhh, what house is the party again?" Nancy asked

"It's at that David guys place, the house on Maplewood." You glance over to her with a small smile "I may need your help in finding the right street."

Nancy smiled and nodded. David's house was a lot further than she'd expected the two of you would be driving- at least thirty-five minutes one way.

You reach over and change the radio's station, turning on some Tears for Fears song.

Softly, Nancy bit the inside flesh of her bottom lip. She felt like she /needed/ to tell you something- but she just couldn't find the words to do so.

How could she express the fact she loves hanging out with you? How can she express the fact simply thinking of you is enough to make butterflies flutter in her ribcage? How could she explain she wanted to hold your hand and kiss your lips? She couldn't. Not while sober, at least.

The two of you drove in silence for a solid ten minutes- silence that wasn't uncomfortable, just a little... unfamiliar. Usually, the two of you were joking and talking all whilst you hung out.

"You okay, Nancy?" You softly asked, noticing the almost troubled look plastered on her face.

Nancy looked to you with an almost saddened look in her eyes. "I just... I don't know if I really want to go to the party. I know it's du-"

"We don't have to go, especially if you don't want to." You say with a soft smile. "I want you to have fun tonight! If fun for you is just hanging out, watching a movie, and feasting on popcorn, then that's fun for me too."

Nancy smiled softly, going quiet for just a moment. "Maybe... Maybe we could do some star gazing? I know it's a bit chilly, but-" She glanced out her window "it looks so beautiful outside."

You smile softly and nod. You weren't at all surprised Nancy would prefer to watch the stars instead of hanging out with drunk people. Hell- you'd prefer that too.

You pulled the car into a parking lot- one that had a small park and a baseball field surrounded by a thick forest of trees. What you felt when with Nancy was hard to describe. You could taste words on the tip of your tongue (happiness. hope. home. love.)- but they always scared a part of you for reasons you couldn't understand.

Parking the car, then turning it off, you and Nancy got out. She carried the case of beers with her already opened one still in her hand. You smiled softly over to her, causing her to return a smile with the tiniest blush- one that couldn't be spotted thanks to the dark atmosphere around you both.

"We can sit on the hood if you want." You say, walking and taking a seat on said hood. Nancy did so as well, setting the case of beer down between the two of you. The two of you still sat close- close enough for your shoulders to occasionally brush against one another.

The air outside didn't feel as chilly when the two of you were together. It felt far closer to pleasant- with fresh forest air swirling softly around and stars dancing in the sky above.

You take a beer, opening the can before bringing it to your lips- /drink, drink, drinking/ until your face feels slightly flushed and the tiniest bit numb.

Nancy chuckled softly as she watched you do so "Careful," She said "I don't want you getting sick."

You smile at this- at her instant concern for your wellbeing. She was too sweet- all strawberries and milk tea.

It was slightly hard to comprehend the fantastic human you had beside you, especially the more you two drank.

Within an hour and a half, between the two of you, you were already down six beers. It was a lot easier for Nancy to drink when around you- especially when it was just the two of you. It was more comfortable that way; safer, even.

Nancy went eventually quiet, just staring at the stars with glossed over eyes. She should tell you...

"Y-Y/N?" She softly asked, keeping her glossy gaze on the stars above. There was a small frown building between her brows, one that made her look unsure of what she was about to say.

"Yeah?" You softly ask, steadily gazing at her.

You saw Nancy bring the beer can to her lips again, take a mouth full, and then swallow down harshly. She still had yet to return your gaze.

"I need to tell you something..." She softly murmurs, finally looking over to you. "But- please, promise me you won't like laugh or-or get freaked out." Her voice broke slightly as she spoke, and the heavy look she was giving you told that this- whatever it was- was serious. That emotions were involved- and that it would hurt if you reacted negatively

"You have my word." You say, suddenly becoming aware of how your heart was beginning to race.

Nancy went quiet, dropping her gaze down to the hood the both of you sat on for a moment. She knew she could trust you. She could /feel/ her stomach turning up and around, could feel her heart beating wildly like a caged animal in her chest.

A soft, trembling hand took yours and held it gently, causing your own heart to begin beating harder. God- if she were sober, she'd probably be having a heart attack right about now.

"I like you, Y/N. Like, really like you. And-" She choked softly on her words, biting down on her lip. "I just... I just thought you should know." She says

You continued your wide-eyed, saucer-like gaze at her. Did she just say what you think she said? O-Or are you somehow misinterpreting this? Fuck- you hope there isn't any misinterpretation.

"Say something, Y/N. You're scaring me." Nancy says, forcing a small, uneasy chuckle with an equally small, uneasy smile

Slowly, you reach over, putting a gentle hand on her cheek. She couldn't help from leaning into it slightly, your thumb tracing over her cheekbone.

You leaned in slightly closer, allowing for your lips to connect. As soon as your lips connected, a jolt of pure, unrefined electricity bolted it's way down your spines. Is this what euphoria felt like? To feel as though a small, perfect eternity was passing between your bodies- where the sky and the ocean mixed on the horizon.

Her lips parted against yours, sweetly deepening the kiss. She would've been glad to continue kissing like this until the mountains fell into the sea- but her-and your- lungs thought otherwise. Breaking away, you both smiled brightly, lips buzzing and heads spinning.

You allowed for your forehead to rest comfortably on hers as you both caught your breath, hand still cupping her certainly crimson cheek, reddened lips softly brushing past one another.

"I really like you too, Nancy."

#nancy wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler x you #stranger things #my writing #my concept #nancy wheeler x fem!reader #gays of stranger things #nico writes

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emptypringlescanister · 4 years

Text

New Perspective: Chapter 1

I told y’all I was gonna post more lol.

Tom Nook x Reader

Slow Burn

Warnings: Spoilers for Animal Crossing: New Horizons

Words: 2.7K

Links: Prologue - Chapter 1 (You are here) - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 1

Dreams could be thought of as like an escape from reality, right? Well then for you, it must be the complete opposite. Stuck in a never-ending loop of trauma really puts a damper on the whole escape thing.

“We’re here! We’re here!” the cries from the small tanuki children roused you from your slumber with a start. Confused with post awakening haze, you looked around the cabin of the plane you were in to see the kids with their faces pressed to the window. Wiping the drool from your face scratches against your skin as you sit up and stretch. “Wake up!” Tommy nudges you excitedly, shy demeanor shoved aside to make way for enthusiasm. “Come look! It’s our new home.”

You smile, their eagerness bleeding into your own as you look out the window as well. Green stretches out, blending in with the pure blue of the ocean below. Fish jump out of the water, speckles of light flying off and glinting in the air. Your gaze fixates upon a small dock breaching out into the ocean from a sandy beach. “Wow” you mutter under your breath.

The speaker in the cabin crackles to life. “Attention passengers, this is Captain Wilbur of Dodo Airlines speaking. Dodo Tower has just informed us that we are due for touchdown November Oscar Whisker, so sit down and buckle up cause this Dodo is coming in for landing!”

Landing was a bit of a bumpy affair, so once the light for the seat belts turned off, both Timmy and Tommy raced out the doors, eager to leave the cramped interior. Resigning yourself to the fate of being the bag carrier, you turned to get your luggage. You were stopped though, as the aviator-wearing pilot entered the cabin. “No need to do that now! My brother Orville will be taking your luggage to the square in just a bit. No need to stress.” Grabbing your one backpack, you thanked him and exited the plane as well. Passing briefly through the airport lobby, you stepped out into the brightness towards your new home.

Timmy and Tommy were standing on the dock, Timmy chatting eagerly to two others while Tommy took his place slightly behind him. Back to his shy ways, you noted to yourself. Turning your attention to the two new faces, you are greeted with a nice-looking penguin talking with Timmy, and on another part of the deck, ignoring everyone, was a hamster lifting weights. Tommy notices your approach and nudges his brother, who turns, abruptly ending his conversation with the penguin. “You’re here!” He turns to address everyone on the dock, his helpful customer service springing into his voice and presence. “Now, I know you must be incredibly excited to explore your new island home, but I have one small request.”

Tommy steps to stand beside him. His small voice loudening briefly, he addresses you all as well. “Would you please join us for a short orientation in the nearby plaza? Our-“

Their voices join together, “-fearless leader,-“

“-is giving a presentation, so I’d hate for everyone to miss it.” Timmy finishes, clasping his hands together. “We’re heading there right now so feel free to follow us!”

They take off , Timmy in the lead, Tommy’s paw wrapped firmly in his as they run towards the middle of the island. Looking over at the others, you all shrug and follow the children who had disappeared over the hill. Lagging behind the others, you walk more slowly, taking in the views from all around you. Soft green grass tickles your ankles as you walk, a light breeze swaying though the trees. Some of them even bear fruit, you notice. They look like peaches, but this is a new land, so it could be some fruit that just looks like peaches. Twigs litter the ground along with copious amounts of floral weeds. You turn in a small circle, taking everything in. It was so... fresh. So pure. It seemed like a new beginning. A new horizon if you will.

Cresting the hill, you come upon a sandy area, occupied by the two newcomers, Timmy and Tommy, and an older tanuki man. A tanuki in a yellow sweater and aqua jacket. ‘Dear lord,’ you think to yourself. ‘Did he pick out his wardrobe blind?’ Despite his odd clothing choices, you study him a little closer. He has vaguely the same markings as the kids, which leads you to believe that he may be related to them in some way. He had a weighted figure, more of a dad-bod, but his eyes were really the factor that drew you in. Tired blue eyes locked onto yours as you entered the area, and your breath stopped. His gaze seemed to rake you up and down, and you bless your luck for a day that was hot so that you could blame the blush staining your face on the heat.

“Alright is that everyone? Let’s see,” He says, his rich voice speaking out. “Is Flo here?” The penguin raises her flipper and smiles. “and Hamlet?” The hamster pauses in his weightlifting and waves over at him. “Good good. Let’s see,” He gazes at the paper a moment before his gaze lifts to yours. “And you must be _____.” Pointedly ignoring the blush on your face, you wave. “That’s me,” you confirm. He smiles, and oh lord you see the way his eyes crinkle at the corners and your heart thuds against your chest.

“Welcome everyone!” His voice snaps you out of your trance and you force yourself to pay attention. “Welcome to your new island. My name is Tom Nook, and I’m the founder and president of Nook Inc. Yes yes!”

“Today is the first day of your new life on this pristine, lovely island. So, congratulations! And this is a package deal, hm? As such, Nook Inc. staff will always be here to support you and ensure your comfort and safety. But first things first, yes? I’d like each of you to choose a spot of your own. It’s the first step to putting down some real roots! I’d like you to dream big – I do have certain connections in construction and real estate, and…” Timmy and Tommy nudge him at the same time, startling him from his rambling. You giggle as he sheepishly rubs his head.

“Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s just get started with a simple tent, shall we? Please collect a tent from either Timmy or Tommy and then choose a spot to place it.” He finishes with a smile, stepping back to allow the boys to pass out the tents. They run up to you afterwards, Tommy handing you your tent as Timmy eagerly asks you about the island. After spending a few minutes with them, they wave you off with your tent. Unbeknownst to you, your interaction with the boys are watched by the older tanuki, who smiles at the sight of them acting so happy with you.

You had only been walking for a few minutes through the trees before you came to a small clearing flanked by a river. Sunlight filtered in through the leaves on the tree, casting a glow onto the spot. ‘This is definitely it...’ you think to yourself. Setting up your text requires an extra level of brainpower that currently seems inaccessible to you, and you are soon sitting on the ground fuming at your failed attempt to put together your temporary home. “This sucks!” You groan out, tossing a pole to the side.

My my, it would seem like you’re having a bit of trouble!” An undignified squeal leaves you as you’re started by a voice from behind you. Scrambling up and turning, you see Tom Nook standing there, hands in his jacket pockets as he observes your failure lying crumpled on the ground. You groan again in embarrassment and bury your face in your hands. “Is it obvious that I’ve never put together a tent before?” Your muffled voice causes him to laugh loudly, his head thrown back and you peek at him through your fingers. “I think it’s possible that you could use some help,” he chuckles, walking over to the mess of fabric and poles on the ground and beginning to untangle everything. “Thanks,” You say, leaning down to help him. With his gentle instruction, the tent goes up in no time.

“Well then, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Tom claps his hands together. You smile gratefully at him. “Thank you, really.” You admit. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d really be sleeping under the stars tonight.” “Now now, I wouldn’t let that happen.” He reassures you. His voice softens slightly, “I see that my boys have taken quite a liking to you! They’ve already blessed me with the details of your trip here, and I would like to thank you for keeping an eye on them.”

“It was really no problem, they’re sweethearts. You’re lucky to have them as your sons.”

“Oh yes,” He smiles at you. “Though we aren’t blood related, they are my sons, and I’m blessed to have them. “

Silence spans between you briefly, and as he opens his mouth to speak again, he is interrupted by Timmy and Tommy running up to both of you through the trees. “Sir!” Timmy exclaims, “The other villagers have finished setting up their tents and are waiting for you in the square!” Tommy stands beside you, leaning against your side and you cradle your hand against the side of his head as Timmy eagerly explains his plans of a celebration to take place later in the evening to celebrate the move in. “Yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea Timmy! Go ahead and start those preparations with Tommy. _____ and I will take care of the food and firewood for you. You look up as your name is mentioned.

“Yes sir!” Timmy salutes, and drags his brother off. “So, a celebration huh?” you ask, walking along with Nook, who had begun to gather twigs from around the area. “A celebration to commemorate all of us on our new beginnings, is what Timmy said, “ He chuckles. “He’s not wrong.” You laugh along with him. Spying some low hanging fruit from a nearby tree, you pick some off the branches. “These are peaches, right?” you ask, inspecting the fruit in your hands. Nook walks over and takes it from you. His fur brushes against you and you marvel silently at how soft it was. He sniffs it and confirms your question with a grin. “They sure are! They’ll make some wonderful drinks and snacks for tonight.” You agree and turn to collect more as Nook finishes his task of collecting firewood.

Reaching things turned out to be within the list of things that were causing you difficulty today, as a peach just out of hands reach hung from its branch, mocking you. You were on your tiptoes, straining as much as you could but reaching didn’t seems to be adding any inches onto your height. Resigning yourself to cruel fate, you gave up. Before you could turn around however, you felt two strong arms wrap around your legs and lift you up, causing you to gasp in alarm and grab onto whatever was lifting you. Which turned out to be Nook. “Um, hi?” You say questioningly. “it seemed like that peach was just out of reach,” Nook teased, hoisting you to sit on his shoulder. Oh. Oh. He was strong. As in, you could feel muscles under there, strong. Be still your little beating heart. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without stuttering. However, after you had gotten the fruit, he didn’t put you down, instead choosing to walk to the main area everyone had been in before, both of you chatting the entire way there.

_______________________________________________________________

“Now then, let us start the festivities!” Nook exclaims, lighting a huge bonfire in the middle of the main area. You clap along with everyone else, reveling in the decisions that led up to this moment. “Now, since this can’t exactly qualify as a deserted island anymore, I feel as if it is our duty to name our new home! Yes, we’ll put it to a vote. Everyone think of a good name for this island!”

As Flo and Hamlet split off to talk together, you stand and think to yourself. Many names came to mind but nothing seemed to fit the best. Until one name came to you.

“Avviare”*

Heads turned to look at you and you flush red as you realize you said it out loud. “We love it!” Flo and Hamlet exclaim, clapping eagerly. Nook smiles, “Well then, if we are all in agreement,” He turns to check with Timmy and Tommy, who nod happily, “Then it seems like we have an overwhelmingly positive response to the name Avviare! How splendid!” Taken aback by the response, you smile and give a small bow. Nook gazes at you, a twinkle in his eye. “_____, since you have proven yourself by naming this island, I’d like to rely on you for other critical decisions we’ll need to make along the way. Yes yes, I hereby name you the Resident Representative of Avviare!” Cheers erupt from the others as Timmy and Tommy rush to hug you. “Say a few words!” Tommy urges you.

“Um well… You can count on me!” you declare, slightly overwhelmed by all of the attention. Ever your savior, Nook hands out drinks to everyone and declares a toast. “A toast!” You all raise your drinks, “To Avviare and the happiness of its residents!”

�� “Cheers!”

The sky has long since grown dark as you all sit around the fire. Crickets chirp in the background and a breeze flows through the air. You lean back while sitting on the log serving as a bench and your gaze wanders over to Nook. The firelight casts shadows across his face, highlighting his features and giving him an air of relaxation. He takes a sip of his drink and your eyes lock yet again. He smiles that all knowing smile and walks over, sitting beside you. “Having a good time?” At your quiet nodding, he chuckles. “This all must be a bit much for you, so if you feel like taking a rest in your tent, by all means, go ahead.”

“You go to deny but a yawn sneaks out, destroying any chance you had for an excuse. “maybe I’ll go do that..” you admit, standing with a sheepish look on your face. Nook stands as well and offers you his arm to take. “Let me walk you back to your tent. You look dead on your feet.”

The walk back to your tent is carried out in comfortable silence, and all to soon the tent comes into view. “Thanks for walking me back Mr. Nook,” your arm is still interlaced with his as you turn to look at him. “Oh please! Call me Tom. There’s no need for such formalities now.” His eyes meet yours. “Well,” He sighs, “We’ve got another big day ahead of us tomorrow, so rest up as much as you can tonight. “ he steps back, and you silently mourn the loss of contact. “Sweet dreams, _____,” He lingers a moment, acting like he wants to say something, but decides otherwise. He gives you a wave as he walks off back through the trees. You watch as he goes.

Stepping inside your tent, you are greeted with a sleeping cot, radio, and lantern. A smaller place that what you were used to, but this was a tent so that was a given. Your suitcase had been delivered as promised so you dug through it to find your pajamas. Laying in bed sounded like a wonderful idea and you plopped down as soon as you had finished changing. You could still hear the wind and crickets outside creating a natural ambiance.

When coming to this island, it was in your plans to just pick a spot and try to live with as few dramatics as possible, but it seemed that life just loved to throw curveballs your way. ‘This one, however,’ you thought as sleep began to take you, ‘doesn’t seem so bad.’.

____________

(*) Avviare- Italian translation of ‘to begin’

________________________________________________________________

And there we have chapter 1! Y’all don’t know how much fun this actually is for me to write haha. Don’t forget to read the prologue if you haven’t already, the link is up at the top.

If you want to be added to a tag list, let me know!

I’m not sure if I’ll have a consistent upload schedule but i’ll try to upload as often as I can now that summer break is coming up.

Aaaand, I think that’s it. Let me know what y’all think!

#animal crossing #new horizons #animal crossing: new horizons #tom nook #tom nook x reader #x reader #timmy and tommy #nook inc

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onyourzeus · 3 years

Text

• the answer | psj

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: the answer pairing: park sungjin (of day6) & you genre: FLUFF, non-idol!au words: 2.7k

author’s note: requested by this anon for a pregnant s/o headcanon with sungjin.

truthfully, this prompt is very new to me and at first, i thought i wouldn’t be able to write something. but i think i tried? i hope it is still enjoyable! (i have been binging sungjin compilation vids recently... i am in deep)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

sungjin is the most animated husband to a pregnant partner you’ve ever seen

and you have a handful of your friends who have gone through the “journey”

way before you did, so seeing the way their significant others react

to the baby bumps and sudden emotional breakdowns during double dates

it’s quite a show, really. they’re either so stunned, so careful due to their partner being more “fragile” than normal

and others who look calm and collected, seeming to have read every book on pregnancy and child bearing they can get from the local library

and of course, their partner admires the dedication and earnest reactions they all have towards this new beginning for the both of them: a life, growing inside their belly. how exciting

(and terrifying. absolutely terrifying)

so when you finally used one (that turned out to be five, just to be sure) pregnancy test you kept hidden in one of the bathroom cabinets

the rush of emotions start falling out: disbelief, pure bubbling joy, adrenaline rush of excitement, and then a few heavy pounds of anxiety

“baby you’re taking too long in the…” you hear sungjin’s concerned voice coming closer to you, and it trails off when the two of you meet eyes for the first time that night

that you realize you’re pregnant

“how many did you take?” is his first question, tone void of anything that you’re suddenly scared he didn’t want this yet

“five,” you reply quietly, sitting on the edge of the bathtub while holding onto the tests strips

“should you take one more just in case?” he asks again, eyes wide and mouth hanging way too open for your liking

whining to him you say, “we might as well go to my doctor to make sure at this point because i think five is overkill already.”

a pregnant pause

you’re getting just a tiny bit annoyed at sungjin’s non-response at this point. he just looks like a fish out of water, and if you just didn’t find out you’re pregnant and are currently registering your own emotions, you’d have slapped him silly right there

but that’s just how sungjin reacts, especially with how important this all is to the trajectory of your shared life

“come here,” he tells you, arms spread out. face still nonchalant, but you swear you heard a hint of joy in that tone

you give in, though, because it’s sungjin and he’s suddenly getting teary eyed and you don’t want him to wait any longer—

“what do you think?” you whisper against his ear, folding into his embrace as he tightens his grip around your waist. the doubts that filled your mind about him not wanting this for any reason disappeared right when his warmth embraced you

“i think you’re gonna be the best parent ever,” he says but the way he’s squeezing you so hard causes you to audibly squirm

he lets go in a flash, apologizing back and forth

“sungjin it’s okay!!” you laugh, tears of joy welling up in your eyes because sungjin is already panicking about hurting the baby in some form due to him hugging you too much “i think the baby will be fine for now!!”

“let’s go,” he states, his hands holding onto yours and his eyes determined

“to where?” you laugh incredulously. sungjin’s switching of emotions in two seconds flat is hilarious to you, but you humor him for a moment

“to the doctor, so we know you’re healthy and the baby is healthy and what else we need to prepare for so that you can—”

it’s 9pm

ok it’s time to shut him up now

kissing his lips softly, you rest your forehead against his and the two of you share the peaceful silence inside your bathroom, in your own house, where your family soon will bloom

“too soon, sungjin,” you remark, smiling as you feel him blush inches away from you

he nods briefly, taking his time to kiss both of your cheeks and you indulge in his genuine love and care

“i’m so happy to do this with you,” he says, “to build our family together”

“i am too”

“should we start planning on the nursery room?” and there he is again, back to going on overdrive it makes you the less crazy one

you calm him down and remind him that it was grocery shopping day tomorrow then you can set up the appointment for your gynecologist. it seems to bring sungjin’s excitement down

by the end of the day, all the scrambling emotions you had accumulated once learning about your pregnancy has dwindled down to the most important one you have: gratefulness for sungjin

so that was just the beginning, right

in the following weeks that you have been confirmed to be pregnant yes, congratulations, a lot of things have changed in the household

from your newly bought maternity clothes, to less hours spent at work, and the empty room in your house finally being given the opportunity to bring it to life

it wasn’t only you doing the renovating, actually sungjin doesn’t want you near any tools or paint brushes at all

he wants the baby safe as well as your physical body

he is overreacting. you are only a month in

“you tell me the color of the walls, where the crib should be, and the paintings you want hung. i’ll do the work. deal?”

“no take backsies?” it sounds like a plan too good to be true

sungjin chuckles at your suspicion, but nods firmly

“fiiiine”

there was definitely a change in atmosphere in your relationship, however. it suddenly became a bit more… intuitive? it boggles your mind because sungjin has always been the perfect husband for you since day 1

but each passing day, he’s becoming so much more careful, gentle, and all-knowing with you

for example the one morning that you just felt the urge to throw up everything you ate the day prior among other things

sungjin had already prepared the bathroom with extra paper towels, a glass of water to gargle with

and even brought awaiting breakfast in bed, just a few fruits maybe an oatmeal and brewed tea (just the way you like it)

he doesn’t take too much time in the bathroom when he showers (and sings loudly) before a gyne appt or just when the two of you were supposed to bond that night

this is kind of a given but grocery shopping is more of a competition than cooperation months before

who brings the most bags and gets to the car the fastest (without spilling anything) will not cook food that day

now, sungjin doesn’t hesitate but almost force you to stand by the entrance of the place, and make you wait there until he finished putting the stuff in the car and drive where you were

“i need exercise too, sungjin” you’d poke him on the side while on the drive home, and sungjin just half-smiles

those days he’d try and order take out instead because, well, sometimes he just doesn’t want to cook

and you’re prepared for this, at least he lets you continue your hobby of being the master chef in the kitchen

it’s a nice way to bond with the baby and your husband. as sungjin plays music in the living room through a speaker or by singing himself

you enjoy trying new healthy recipes

the baby bump is forming shape now, your clothes definitely give out a hint. it’s been a complicated ride of what to feel about it

excited, thrilled, of course, sungjin takes a moment in the morning to really look at you

and his child that you bear so beautifully, and with so much grace

the sun shines somewhat through the curtains, and sunjin wonders how you sleep so amazingly well

his eyes never tire of tearing up with incoming thoughts of the next few months, years with you and your little boy or girl. he doesn’t even have an inch of doubt that you’re going to raise them well, and raise them kindly

on the other hand, as sungjin thumbs over your cheek, admiring your presence in front of him...

synchronized breathing

sungjin is afraid if he will not be enough for his child. there’s so many things that can go wrong in the first three years, let alone the moment they’ll come to this world

what if he gets cold feet? what if he cannot financially support the two of you anymore? what if you become disappointed at how he’s presenting himself as a good father?

it pains sungjin to realize all of these what-ifs. with a few more minutes to spare before he has to go to another day at work, sungjin makes sure to feel the curve of your belly, and transfer over his warmth to you

he closes his eyes, immersing himself with the beat of his heart, knowing that it’s for you and your family

if you’re lucky, you wake up to the whispers of sungjin about the many different things he loves about you, his forever partner, the future super parent of your child

resisting to open your eyes and see his embarrassed face is almost harder than not drinking coffee nowadays

but you get used to it, just barely seeing how shiny his eyes get, how relaxed his features become and how much love leaves his lips

saying your name, singing to the baby a little good morning jingle, telling you both

“i love you so much, more than you can know in this lifetime”

and when sungjin is busy at work, half relegating tasks to his employees and the other burying down the anxiety about leaving you at home all day alone

you do your part to ease his worries, sending him cute texts throughout the day

sometimes he even asks about the belly more than about you

“hows the baby?? can i see?? does it feel different today?? did you feel a kick? do you think it will be twins??”

(god you hope not)

“sungjin you are at work and i can hear your colleagues laughing at your excitement, quiet down!”

he’s so proud, so so proud of you. getting those texts and short calls from you while he’s away does more assurance than you think

he readied himself by asking his family members about parenting, asking his friends about their opinions, and reading so much online that he’d forget to do his share of the workload in the office

being 100% prepared is his mission, and he thinks you’re not taking it seriously. you say it comes with intuition for you because, well, you’re carrying the baby. but there’s one thing the both of you just cannot explain to each other which confuses sungjin all the more

your cravings

it was fairly normal in the beginning, maybe you wanted cheese on everything one day, and then you just had to add peanut butter on your garlic bread… okay, at least sungjin didn’t have to eat it with you

but the times that you didn’t have the ingredients you were specifically asking for, sungjin was at a loss for words

“sungjin…” you whine on the bed with him, sitting up as best as you can with the bump and pushing his shoulders so he gets up. he was lying down but had his back facing you, as he he had tried multiple times to convince you to go back to bed already

it wasn’t successful

“babe it’s too late to go out,” he’d murmur, hugging the pillow close to him as if to block out your voice. this offends you, a little over the top than normal, so you continue shaking him up

“but i neeeed it. the baby neeeeeeds it. you want the best for baby, right? anything baby wants, baby gets, right?” you say with a pout, although futile as he couldn’t see you

sungjin groans lightly, understanding that cravings aren’t even explainable on your end but there must be something in the house that can, well, emulate what your tastebuds desired— or, sorry, the baby

“we have leftover vanilla ice cream in the fridge, sweetheart, will that be okay for now? we’ll get the other flavor tomorrow morning,” sungjin calms you down, turning over to see your face soaked with fresh tears

this gets him to sit up, cuddle mode on, but you refuse

“baby, i’m sorry—”

“no i’m sorry sungjin, i just wanted to eat because i can’t sleep if i don’t but you’re upset and now i feel so lumpy and gross and—”

“hey hey no,” he scolds you softly, never liking the way he hears you call yourself such a word. his arms embrace your from behind, hands secured on your bump as he peppers you with tender kisses on the side of your face, kissing the tears away

“sungjin i don’t look cute right now,” you pout, somehow knowing what you’re saying is ridiculous to a point and irrational, but also the way you’re thinking isn’t logical right now

“that’s a lie,” sungjin tells you. “don’t ever believe that.”

you find his hands caressing your bump, and intertwine them together. sungjin lets you breathe in and out for a minute, as he finds it the best way to help you out when emotions start to overwhelm you

no words, no distractions, just the feel of him and his security

“do you really want strawberry cheesecake ice cream right now, babe?” he finally asks as the tension from your body dissipates. you nod and crane your neck to the side just enough to meet his lips with yours

one kiss, two kisses

sungjin looks at you brightly, smiles and nods once

“okay, i’ll get it for you, you just stay here and rest. okay?”

exhausted from the emotions but still hungry from your cravings, you follow his words. after, he tucks you back in bed, gives your bump a quick peck and goes out the door

“don’t forget the potato chips :c” you text him 5 mins later

“of course love, pickle-dill and strawberry ice cream ready for you soon ;)”

when he came back, he didn’t think to spend the next 20 minutes watching you put the potato chips as a sort of topping for your ice cream

suffice to say, it was a strange night that ended in laughs, you trying to get him to take a bite (which you succeeded), reminiscing on old times, and falling asleep with him fitting right by your side perfectly

it were these moments that you feel more and more in love with sungjin because he doesn’t just care for you

he cares with all of his being, and you make sure he knows how much he’s appreciated with the little things he does, and the big things he shows off to you

the nursery room gets done earlier than expected, and surprisingly enough sungjin let you paint a patch or two of the wall. you spend time off decorating the whole place with pictures of the two of you way back then, pictures of your child’s (favorite) uncles, paintings you have finished that embodied the love you have for your future family, everything that reminded you of home with sungjin

“you think our baby will like it?” sungjin asks you right after hes finished with the last picture frame. it was empty, undecorated, but hung right next to the crib.

“absolutely, appa made it with love.”

“and sweat”

and he holds you right there, the fresh scent of furniture and a new beginning amidst the air

he holds you and your blossoming family in his careful, gentle hands. and you whisk yourself away in the moment and how perfect it was, how grateful you are to live this through with sungjin

a slight kick reverberates within your bump, and sungjin glances at you immediately

another bump, and the two of you slowly form the widest grins

“i guess you got your answer, sungjin.”

his answer has already been in front of him

#day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 au #park sungjin imagines #park sungjin scenarios #day6 x reader #day6 fic #by:jiae

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fang-wolfsbane · 3 years

Text

Transformers Animated: Morning After: Chapter 03: Breathe

“Tyla, table five has been waiting for half an hour already!”

Lie.

“Be right there! Just take care of my table for me!”

Lie.

“Hey, you, you got my order wrong.”

Lie.

“I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to give you a pay cut.”

Lie.

“Hey Tyla, snap out of it.”

Tyla blinked, her attention snapping to the thumb and index finger that appeared out of nowhere, clicking against each other repeatedly. They belonged to one of her co-workers, one whose name she couldn’t bring herself to remember. They remembered hers, so she supposed that she should at least return the courtesy, but their name plate was missing and she didn’t feel like raking her brain until their name popped back into her head.

“Huh? What is it?” Tyla asked, looking to the figure beside her, watching their long fingers popping open the top of a cigarette carton and pulling out one of the small white sticks residing inside of it. Personally, she never understood the reasoning behind smoking, but she didn’t care to find out either. She took a broad step to the side, wanting to limit the disgusting smoke smell sticking to her clothes and invading her lungs without her consent.

She could have stood somewhere else, but she had been standing there first, plus the smoker’s area was inside the building, not outside. Her co-worker must have thought that no one would mind the air being poisoned. She minded though she kept her mouth shut about it. The last thing she needed was to start something and end up getting another pay cut simply because her co-worker was too inconsiderate to take her health into consideration whilst throwing their own away.

“Oh nothing. You just seemed like you were off somewhere better than this,” they smirked, putting the cancer stick to their lips, lighting it up a second later, the smoke curling its corruption against the air, off to poison something in its path. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

Tyla forced herself to smile at the depressive comment, albeit a weak one. If only they were right on their assumption. A daydream would have been nice, if only providing a temporary escape from her workplace. She tilted her head back against the wall of the local Burger Bot, blonde hair sweeping in front of her eyes. She didn’t feel up to moving them out of her eyes, so she let them stay there, blinding her for a couple of seconds of pure sight deprivation.

She wanted to reply with a cocky ‘if only’, but instead she shrugged her shoulders, a meagre gesture, but one her co-worker understood well enough to concentrate on what they were busy with instead. She had taken her fifteen minute lunch break in the hopes of spending some time alone with her thoughts, but that hadn’t gone as planned.

She could have chosen to hide behind the dumpster, but the smell would have chased her away faster than her co-worker’s. Although she had thought of spending the time alone, she supposed that it wasn’t really all that bad if she tolerated the other’s presence for the remainder of her break. Even if the two of them didn’t talk, she found some form of comfort in knowing that someone at least wanted to be within her company. They could have easily avoided her without a care, yet they had chosen to stand beside her instead. Maybe they needed the interaction just as much as she did.

Tyla glanced over towards them, breathing out through her nose to try and keep the smoke’s smell from drifting up through her nostrils. Her own hands were resting in the pockets on her jeans, the only place she could think of to put them instead of having them hanging at her sides with nothing to do.

Her lips parted, then closed. She didn’t know what to say, much less what to do, so she looked ahead of herself once more, brushing the stray strands of hair out of her eyes this time.

“Hey, Tyla?”

Well, it seemed that she wasn’t the only one that had been thinking of striking up a conversation for the sake of drowning out the silence. She looked to her co-worker once more. “Yeah?”

“Do you think we finally did it?” they asked, their blue eyes looking down to the gravel pavement pushed against the side of the building. Tyla’s gaze followed theirs, watching a tiny ant skittering off on its own with a bread crumb someone dropped when they were eating one of the burgers on their way out. She almost smiled at how happy the ant seemed to have found something for its colony. A true provider with nothing more than a simple wish to make those it lived with happy. It was cute, if not a little sad.

“Did what?”

“Reached the pique of humanity?”

Ah, that question. The question everyone living in Detroit seemed to have on their minds at one point or another. The most advanced city in the world, what with its robotic helpers taking over all the roles humans no longer wished to participate in. Window washers, refuge cleaners, even dogwalkers were replaced by those ‘automated helpers’ that the world-renowned Isaac Sumdac earned his fortune from. How he had originally come up with his idea for his robotics company, she didn’t know. She only knew his name because of the TV in the corner of the fast food restaurant she was leaning against like some kind of loiterer.

When she first moved to the city, she’d had to jump out of the way to avoid quite a few of those automated helpers. When it came to applying for the job she had right now, she had been worried about being turned down for not having some kind of robotic part inside her body.

What amused her was the fact that there were still a few humans that worked inside the building, doing the cooking and grilling, and even taking the orders of the customers all too happy to complain when their order took too long despite being prepared beforehand for their waiting convenience to be cut in half. If they had to make it themselves, they would have taken twice as long. She didn’t work behind the griller, but she noticed how stressed the cooks became when the table waiters and waitresses put pressure on them to hurry up before a customer decided they wasted their time simply waiting to be served, have their meal brought to them simply because they had the status and money to afford eating out once in a while.

She wanted to shrug again, not really knowing what her own personal thoughts were on the topic but found herself answering instead. “Probably not. All things considered, humanity could be doing worse.”

“Worse than we already are?” they asked, tilting their head as the ash at the end of their cigarette dribbled to the ground, leaving it for a refuge bot to clean up at a later point. Tyla felt her stomach churn at the sight but tried to ignore it. All things considered, she was surprised that she herself hadn’t turned to smoking as a way to cope with all the thoughts running rampant in her mind at times. That was their usual excuse, wasn’t it? That smoking helped them breathe. She would have laughed at the irony, considering that they wanted to ‘breathe’, yet were more than willing to ignore the obvious fact that they were busy poisoning themselves and those within their current vicinity. Still, she kept her mouth shut about it. If they wanted to rot their lungs, then so be it. Everyone had their coping mechanisms, some were simply more destructive than others.

“We’re humans, aren’t we? There’s always more ways we can screw up,” Tyla said, the unease in her chest lightening some. When was the last time that she had been so honest with her own opinions? She didn’t know, but she was glad to voice that at least.

Her co-worker nodded, seemingly agreeing with her, or at least pretending to. A short while later they dropped the end of their cigarette to the ground and stomped it out, stretching their arms high above their head, the soft snap of bones releasing tension from their shoulders.

“Well, guess it’s time to head back in and earn that money. Gotta make a living somehow right?”

With that, they turned and headed back inside, leaving the smoked butt on the ground to become someone else’s problem later down the road. Tyla found herself frowning, looking to the dumpster barely a few feet away, not to mention the ashtrays that were inside the restaurant for those who found it too inconvenient to dispose of the remains properly.

Tyla sighed, swooped down to pick up what remained of the burnt out stick and tossed it into the nearest ashtray when she walked past the smoker’s area. Luckily, she had gotten the choice of whether she wanted to work within that area or not. Her lungs thanked her for taking the choice to avoid it.

Looking out to the gathered crowd of waiting customers, Tyla took a breath, steadied herself and went back to work. That much needed money wasn’t going to go earning itself, not with her luck.

#Animated #Chapter #Chapter 3 #Fanfiction #MA #Morning After #OC #Original Character #TFA #TFAMA #Transformer #Transformers #Transformers Animated #Transformers Animated Morning After #Tyla

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the-fixation-zone · 4 years

Text

hello hello! @queenspinoodle and i started working on a...well, on what started as a crack piece. it may or may not still be crack. if u like circuses, crime fighting, and zuko and sokka being named zucchini and sock THIS IS FOR YOU! first chapter below, with art from my cowriter! comments appreciated :)

enjoi~

Chapter 1

Zucchini is still thinking about his performance last night. He’d wanted to try something new, but every time he’d attempted to nail the trick in rehearsal, it’d just...fallen flat. So, he hadn’t attempted it last night, which left a bitter taste in his mouth. He’s still swirling it around, trying to spit it out, but no luck. It’s his routine, but he still feels like he failed. His thoughts are interrupted, however, when his foot collides with something hard and he trips. Spectacularly. He looks up, embarrassed and angry in equal measures, to see Sock sitting nearby. He gets angrier when he sees Sock is clearly trying to hold back laughter.

“Sock! Is this your--” Zucchini looks down, “--sandbag that just tripped me?!”

Sock gives him an innocent look. “I think the correct way to say it is, 'is that my sandbag that you just tripped over'? Because yes, it is, and yes, you did. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone’s arms flail like that, Zucchini.”

Zucchini narrows his eyes. “I only tripped over it because someone is incredibly disorganized. Sandbags don’t belong in the middle of the floor!”

Sock narrows his eyes, no longer laughing. “Well, maybe you should look where you’re going! If you were more aware of your surroundings, Mr. Jerk, then maybe you would’ve seen it. It’s a big bag, Zucchini.”

“Yeah, well! Well, you’re--you--ugh, you’re an idiot! Move the stupid bag, Sock!” Zucchini turns away quickly, trying not to dwell on how ridiculous he just sounded. He’s made two strides to the tent’s opening when something collides with the back of his head. He whips back around to see Sock with a smirk on his face.

“Can I help you?” Sock says innocently.

Zucchini looks at him, dumbfounded, then looks at the ground to see a balled up piece of paper. He picks it up. “Seriously? What are you, eight?”

Sock shrugs. “I know you are but what am I.”

Zucchini’s eyes get wide, his anger inadvertently burning the paper in his hands. “Seriously? You’re such a child!”

“Oh, yeah? Well at least I don’t throw my pillow around my tent when I’m mad, and then apologize to it!” Sock’s look of triumph at that statement makes Zucchini grit his teeth.

“I don’t--! How do you know about that?? It was one time, maybe twice at most!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever."

“UGH, you’re impossible to work with! I don’t know why Piandao keeps you around. My little cousin could do better tricks than you.”

"At least I actually have a talent!"

“Oh yeah?” Zucchini takes a menacing step forward. “You wanna try walking the tightrope, then? You think you could handle it?”

"Only if you do flips off the trapeze!"

“Done! I could do that in my sleep!”

“Fine! I bet the moment you get on, you'll fall off immediately. You’ll go running to Piandao like a baby!”

“Don’t you dare call me a baby!”

Sock and Zucchini’s argument brings them right into each other’s faces, snarling like animals. Both of them have their fists balled tight, ready to throw, when the sound of the tent flap opening gets their attention.

“Boys! Boys, what is going on here?” Their boss, Master Piandao, enters the tent, a frown marring his face. “Honestly, you two can’t be civil for five minutes? The show’s about to start, and I will not have either of you knocked out of commission over a petty fight!”

On cue, the announcer’s voice cuts through the tent, his voice amplified by his megaphone. “COME ONE, COME ALL! THE SHOW WILL BE STARTING IN TEN MINUTES! GET YOUR POPCORN AND DRINKS AND JOIN US IN THE MAIN TENT FOR A WONDROUS EVENING!”

Sock and Zucchini pull back from one another, still glaring. Sock turns away first, finishing up his preparations for his act, grumbling. Zucchini leaves the tent for his own, having not started his own prep work. When he gets there, he realizes he’s still very pissed off, thank you very much, and knows he can’t work like this. The last time he tried to work angry, well…. It’s better not to think about it. So, to calm down, he tries to meditate. He sits on a cushion in the middle of the floor, crosses his legs, and breathes. In, out. In, out. Not, thinking. About, Sock. And, his. Stupid, FACE.

It wasn’t going very well.

In a tent nearby, Sock is pulling on his costume, trying to push Zucchini’s attitude from his mind. Honestly, if the guy just looked down from his pedestal every now and then he wouldn’t trip over stuff. A no brainer. But, of course, Sock doesn’t expect Zucchini to understand that. He was so full of himself, just because he could walk on some string. So what? Who cared about that, when Sock worked his butt off doing flips! Ugh.

He walks out still pretty mad, but when he runs into his co-stars his mood picks up. Zucchini may be a dick, but Katt and Baaang weren’t. They were awesome, and together they’d put on a great show. He gives his sister and her boyfriend a hug, trying to keep the anger off his face. He thinks about it for a moment but ultimately decides not to tell them about the stupid fight he had with Zucchini. It’s just not worth it, in the end. His sister would just worry, and Baaang would tell him he should try to work it out. Neither of these are favorable outcomes. Instead, he grabs their hands and they go out on stage to raucous applause. As soon as the whoops and cheers hit his ears, Sock is grinning. Yes, he thinks. This is what it’s all about. As they go through their routine, Sock loses himself in the moves. He loses himself in the trust he has in his team, in the ooohs and aaaahs of the crowd. Nothing else matters.

Zucchini, upon giving up meditation as an impossibility, paces in his tent. Sock’s performance is about to start and, though he mocked his work before, he realizes he’s never...actually seen Sock and his team perform. He’s passed through the practice tent while they were rehearsing, sure, but he never stopped to look, always too busy with something else. He starts feeling bad about insulting Sock without evidence. Maybe, I could check it out...just for a moment.

He goes backstage, opening the flap leading to the main room a bit. Sock, Katt, and Baaang are just coming out to the delight of the crowd. Zucchini scoffs, not knowing what the fuss is all about. The moment they get on the trapeze, he gets it. Boy, does he get it. The three of them work as if they were one, dropping through the air and catching each other with such trust it brings a tear to Zucchini’s eye. And the way they move. It’s like they’re not made of flesh and bone, but cloud. Pure vapor, floating from one rung to the next. Zucchini can’t believe his eyes. He’s especially surprised by Sock.

He’d thought Sock was completely disorganized and never thought he’d be capable of performing something so beautiful. Zucchini’s anger completely leaves him watching the performance, captivated beyond his control. When they finish and the crowd claps them off the stage, Zucchini finds himself clapping too. And then running, because there’s no way he could let Sock find him watching. He’d rather die, he thinks.

Sock leaves the stage feeling like he could take on the world. Katt and Baaang are laughing on either side of him, recapping their favorite parts of their performance to keep the energy going. Sock joins in, making jokes and ruffling his sister’s hair. Zucchini is the furthest thing from his mind. Or, he would be, if his act weren’t up next. Somehow he had forgotten in the rush of his own performance, but the announcer makes sure to remind him in a booming voice. Baaang and Katt are going back to their tents to change into their daywear, but Sock hangs back. Sure, he’d told the guy that he didn’t need talent to do his act, but it’s not as if he’d ever actually seen it. He knew what it was, though. He stood on a rope and juggled some things, right? Might as well pop back over and check it out, so he’d have more material to mock him with next time.

Zucchini stands at the performer entrance of the big tent, his usual pre-show nerves surprisingly absent. He feels more calm than he has all day, if he’s being honest. When the announcer shouts his cue, he steps inside, standing tall and walking with confidence to the ladder leading up to the tightrope. Pepper is already up there, the bag of props by his feet. He gives Zucchini a big grin and a thumbs up, which Zucchini returns. The clown looks taken aback, but pleased. Zucchini then moves to the rope, his music being played by a band on the ground. A deep breath, two and then he steps out.

He hears someone in the crowd scream. His grin grows; there’s always one. He steps out further, footfalls soft and measured, until he’s in the middle of the rope. Arm out to his sides, he bends his knees. Deep breath and….up! He jumps into the air, causing more screams from below. Energized, he does another jump, this time turning in the air so he’s facing his assistant. Pepper claps his hands before reaching into the bag of props, tossing a jar of salt to Zucchini. Zucchini outstretches his hand to grab it and, right before it lands in his palm, he calls his fire.

Sock will admit it. He was one of the people who screamed when Zucchini jumped. He has half a mind to run over to their boss and frantically ask if that’s safe, or even legal! Even thinking about jumping on a thin rope that far up makes Sock queasy, let alone turning around while doing it. And now the clown is throwing things at him? Really?? Sock is unwittingly watching from the same place Zucchini observed him, gripping the cloth tight. What else could Zucchini possibly be up to? He’s not sure why, but he didn’t see the fire coming.

Zucchini feels the runes on the back of his hand crackling. As he calls the fire, it almost feels like it’s happy to come to him, basking in the joy of performing as he does. The jar, coated in flammable oil, lights immediately, bright and hot. Pepper tosses him another object, this time an umbrella, which Zucchini catches with his other hand. The third object Pepper throws is a bowling pin; Zucchini lifts one foot and catches it on the tip of his toe. Now the fun can begin.

Zucchini’s always loved juggling, though it was frowned upon in the house he grew up in. Too many broken dishes, too many dropped heirlooms. He tried his best but he wasn’t very good as a kid. Not anymore. Now, he flips his flaming objects in the air with ease. His control over the fire is superb; the audience doesn’t know this but not a single object is actually burned. That reveal has to be his favorite. Items high in the air, Pepper throws more at him and Zucchini flips them faster. Feeling confident, he tosses a few behind his back as well. The crowd loses their mind and Zucchini loses himself in the sound.

Sock is losing his mind. How is any of this possible? He’s sure those things are on fire, but it doesn’t make sense! How is that umbrella not ash? How is the glass on fire? How has Zucchini not dropped a single object?! He must have six by now! Oh, wait, seven now because that sadistic clown just tossed him another. Sock thinks, maybe, he should just sit back and watch rather than overthinking the specifics. He leans back against one of the tent poles and contents himself with enjoying the show.

When Zucchini finishes by stacking all of the objects in one hand with none of them even scorched, Sock thinks he, maybe, possibly owes the guy an apology. Eventually. He sneaks away, not wanting to be caught watching, and starts heading back to his tent. On the way there, he thinks about whether this changes anything. Like, sure, maybe Zucchini isn’t all hot air (hah!), but he’s still not a nice person. Not even remotely.

Sock is still pondering this when he hears voices around the corner. Usually Sock isn’t the nosy type, regardless of what his sister has to say about it, but something in their tone sounds...off. He doesn’t recognize the voices, either. Sure, they could be patrons taking a smoke or something, but Sock’s gut is telling him it’s something else. He crouches down and peeks around the corner of the tent serving as his hiding spot.

“Should be any moment now, Groff. Master P. will be alone as soon as the show’s over, and that’s when we get him. You got it?”

“Yeah, Lunk, I got it the first million times you told me. Are you sure we should be doing this, though? Like, I get why but...Master P.’s always seemed pretty nice the way I see it.”

A thump. “Ow! Lunk! What was that for, huh?”

“For thinking too hard! We get orders, we carry them out, we get paid. That’s. It. Don’t go getting sentimental on me now, Groff.”

Sock is very glad he hid, now. They couldn’t possibly be talking about what he thinks they are, right? Only one way to find out…

Zucchini, riding the high of his performance, has a spring in his step as he heads back to his tent. Some of the things he’d tried had gone horribly in rehearsal, but somehow he’d landed them! And the crowd loved it! He doesn’t know what did it but something clicked for him up there. He’d be holding onto these feelings for a while. Or, so he thought, before he saw Sock crouched beside a tent looking incredibly shady. Not wanting to startle him, Zucchini carefully walks up behind him and gives his shoulder a tap. Unfortunately, this has the exact opposite effect, causing Sock to jump a mile. Sock turns, looking terrified. Upon seeing Zucchini his expression morphs to annoyed.

“Sorry. What are you--?” The rest of Zucchini’s sentence is muffled by Sock’s hand over his mouth.

“Shh.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Zucchini says in a whisper, once his mouth is free. “What are you doing?”

Sock puts a finger over his lips, then indicates with his head around the corner. Zucchini peeks, seeing two burly men in suits. He frowns until he starts to catch what they’re saying. It sounds like a plot to murder Master Piandao, but...it couldn’t be. Could it?

The two men start walking in their direction. Zucchini’s eyes go wide and he looks to Sock, but Sock has already stood up and is opening the flap to the tent they’re hiding behind. He grabs Zucchini’s arm and drags him in behind him. Once the footsteps fade away, Zucchini turns to Sock.

“Oh my god. Sock...What the hell did we just hear?” he whispers, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Pretty sure it was a murder plot." Sock replies.

Oh. So, it was actually exactly what he thought. Great. “Right. Right. Murder. Of our boss.” Zucchini can feel himself unraveling. “They can’t just kill Piandao! He’s like a father to me, they can’t--we can’t let them--” Zucchini starts pacing the tent, at a loss.

Sock, in contrast, is standing absolutely still, hand on his chin as he stares at the wall of the tent. "I have a plan."

Zucchini perks up, then looks wary. “What kind of plan?”

“They’re planning to use a tent nail as their weapon, right? Those are in the storage tent. That tent also has netting and rope, which we can use to trap them.” Sock’s eyes light up as he describes his plan, his hands moving as he talks. “We’ll use the trapeze mechanics to set the trap, and once they’re in range, BAM!” Sock slams his fist into his palm. “We got em.”

Zucchini isn’t entirely clear on how the trapeze artists do their thing, but he can’t help but trust Sock. The way he explains it is so passionate. So, Zucchini nods. “Okay. That...that could work. Let’s do this.”

Sock is surprised Zucchini agreed to the plan so readily but is not about to complain about it. They’ve got murderers to catch. Sock does a cautious check outside the tent before sneaking out, looking over his shoulder to make sure Zucchini is following. Zucchini is right behind him, looking around to make sure the coast is clear. When they get to the storage tent they both do one more look around before ducking inside.

"Grab that net and bring it here." Sock picks up a rope attached to a sandbag, dragging it towards himself. Zucchini grabs the net and tosses it to Sock, then awaits further instructions while keeping an ear out for company. Sock ties the netting to multiple ropes, then hooks up the ropes and adds a few extra sandbags until the net is pulled up. He crouches beside one of the ropes with a knife, ready to cut it.

Zucchini can’t pretend that he followed any of that, so instead he says, “So, now we wait?”

Sock nods. "Cut that rope when they come in,” he says, indicating a rope on the other side of the room.

“Can do.” Zucchini waits, finding a hiding spot and listening for the sound of the would-be murderers voices or footsteps. Eventually, he sees a shadow cross the tent. He hears those voices again, and then the men from before enter. Zucchini makes eye contact with Sock and then, when the perps are in the right position, cuts his rope while Sock does the same to his own. The criminals scream as the net comes down on them. Zucchini pumps his fist in the air, holding back an exhilarated whoop.

Sock, realizing they could get in trouble for trapping people without hard evidence, grabs Zucchini and flees. Zucchini goes with him, still too excited to really question it. Sock slows down and tries to look casual once they're a bit away from the tent, but makes sure to stop somewhere with the storage tent still in sight.

Once they’ve stopped Zucchini turns to Sock, a confused look on his face. “Why did we run away? We did something good!”

"We're circus workers who just trapped two people, and nobody else knows what they were doing there. It doesn't reflect very well on us."

Zucchini thinks about it, deflating a bit. “Well...I guess that’s true. What now? They might get out, and no one will know what they were going to do. Should we, I dunno, lead someone with some authority towards the tent?"

"I don't think we'll have to worry about that.” A crowd is starting to form around the tent, likely because of the screams. They watch Piandao make his way through the crowd, opening the tent flap wide. "Groff and Lunk! What are you two doing here?" Sock and Zucchini watch as Master Piandao drags the two men out of the tent, still wrapped up in netting. “I told you! You two don’t work for me anymore. I thought I made it perfectly clear I didn’t want to see your faces again.”

The two men talk over each other, the exact words hard to make out over the distance, but Sock thinks he makes out “not over yet!” and Zucchini thinks he hears “our real boss!” and both register the vehemence in the men's tones. Sock and Zucchini look at each other, eyes wide. Probably a good thing those two were tied up. Pretty soon, Pepper comes out to disperse the crowd and the conversation between Groff, Lunk, and Master Piandao grows hushed.

“I see. That certainly does look taken care of.” Zucchini stares at the three men for another moment, before it seems to hit him. That was something big, they stopped a murder. He starts laughing. Giddy, slightly manic laughs. “We really just did that, didn’t we?”

Sock gives Zucchini a strange look when he starts laughing. He isn’t sure what’s funny at first, then it dawns on him too. "Oh my God, we did just do that…"

“Yep! Yeah, wow, we’re...huh. Guess that makes us heroes, doesn’t it?” Zucchini seems floored by this realization. “I don’t think I’ve ever been a hero before.”

Sock watches guards drag the two people away from the tent. They just did that… He has always wanted to be a hero, specifically a warrior. Is this really his chance? They could take responsibility now that it was clear those two were murderers. He could finally have his dream…but, something holds him back. He can’t do it. It wouldn't do him any good, anyway. Better to move on.

“Hey, Sock?” Zucchini is also watching the people be taken away. He’s thinking about how his life so far has been one failure after another, how he’s always run away when the going has gotten tough, but somehow, with the weird trapeze man beside him, he managed to save someone. Really save someone. “Do you think we could do this again?”

"Huh? Which part? Saving people? Building traps? Not killing each other?"

Zucchini breathes out a laugh. “How about all three?” He turns to Sock, looking him in the eye. “I think we could really make a difference.”

Sock looks at Zucchini, really looks at him. Is he really asking to fight crime together? Sock had always thought Zucchini was stuck up and moody. He'd never really liked his aggressiveness before. But maybe there’s more to him. Maybe they can get along and use their talents to help people. He smiles. "I'd like that."

#jdsagjksf #crack #kind of? there's a lot of heart in here okay #zuko #sokka #fanfic #zukka #eventually idk rn theyre just trying to be friends lmao #atla #atla au #prince zuko #sokka of the southern water tribe #the circus au #the title we have right now is #the boys crack open a cold one and it's an underground crime organization #fix talks #fix writes with friends

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