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#inconceivable literally like a week ago
praeluxius · 6 months
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Trouble - NMIXX Haewon
male reader x nmixx haewon
5.5k words - [commissioned work]
masterlist - this is a follow-up to studious
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There’s this thing about trouble. You don’t look for it. It finds you. 
Haewon is most certainly trouble. The best kind of trouble. The kind of trouble that, while you know the possible consequences, she makes it all worth it. Anyone could have walked in on her riding you in that classroom, but at the time, you couldn’t have cared less.
***
Not a week later, you find yourself staring down trouble once again. What should have been a normal day at the beach with your friends became a chance encounter with the person you somehow wanted to see both the most and the least right now. 
There’s no denying the perks—some of them you spent the past hour admiring. But you can’t shake off the fear that she’s about to cause a scene. After all, you still haven’t found the right words to text her since that evening. Luckily, you had done a successful job of avoiding her until now.
As each minute of the past hour had passed, the tension seemed only to build as you waited for the girl sat only a few meters ahead of you to cause a scene. Your friends passed through a series of conversations you don’t really recall amidst the distraction. There was something about classes, someone’s brother, oh, and a brief mention of the rumour of two unnamed students getting it on in Mr Choi’s classroom—avoiding that conversation was for the best.
Haewon continues rotating through her repetitions. Picking up her phone and scrolling through social media for a while. Taking a drink from her bottle, with her usual habit of taking one small sip before a mouthful. And occasionally taking a short walk around.
You shouldn’t care, but you do. You can’t fight the frustration that she hasn’t spoken to you yet. Yes, you dread her confronting you, but it can’t be worse than being left in the cold. Not even a smile or a customary glance in your direction. It’s inconceivable that she simply hasn’t noticed you. Not even moments ago, she strutted right by where you are sitting. Her short jean shorts sitting at the very top of her thigh passed at eye level. Each step was accompanied by a sway of her hips and a ripple sent down her thighs.
Fuck. Just thinking about it again made your own shorts uncomfortable. Again.
It’s impossible to look away. Haewon has returned to relaxing on her lounger now. Although it looks like she changed the angle of it now and suddenly, as she sits with one leg outstretched and the other bent slightly, she gives you a perfect show.
It could all be a coincidence. Maybe she really hasn’t noticed you. She just happened to walk right by you, she just happened to adjust the angle of her lounger.
However, there is one thing you can be sure of with Haewon; everything she does has a purpose. 
You plant your feet into the burning sand and immediately pull them back, recoiling in pain. Better put your sliders on first, idiot. The way Haewon messed with your mind is dangerous, literally.
Aimlessly walking. Salty sea breeze against your face and through your hair. Uneasy footing on the soft sand. Eyes wandering. Down the length of the beach, then out to sea. The crashing waves—rhythmic chaos.
Contrasting the other chaos—that which has no rhythm and is completely unpredictable. That which is right behind you, her strides just a little longer than your own, closing the distance by which she tails you. You couldn’t even get a minute without this woman in your mind today.
“Need a moment to yourself?” It wasn’t a real question, nor an offer to give you one. Moreso a taunt from the lips of Haewon as she places herself by your side. 
“I’m just going to, um…” You look ahead and spot the public bathroom, which you are getting close to walking by. “The bathroom.”
“No… You’re just walking away because staring at me for the past hour is getting you a little hot under the collar.”
Haewon has a read on you like no other, and it’s far too uncomfortable. You don’t have a response to her unexpected intuition, instead choosing to grunt and continue walking, picking up the pace a little. 
Haewon catches up to you with a little skip in her step. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m sure no one noticed you getting hard. Putting your bag on your lap really helped cover it up.”
With sarcasm in her tone, she mocks you.
You take a moment to swallow that lump in your throat before replying, “that’s not what happened. I just wanted to—”
“Please. You’re going to pretend you haven’t been staring at me for the past hour?” 
“No—”
“So, someone else?” Haewon cuts you off again. “It’s that why you never texted me? You must be some kind of player.”
“There’s no one else, Haewon.”
“I knew it was me.”
She’s good. It’s like a chess game, and she’s moving all the right pieces—always putting you in check. There’s no surprise, though; it’s what she does. It’s what she has done to you before—the note in your locker, the timing, the place, her confident words.
“I’m gonna go to the toilet now, Haewon.” You turn away and divert into the thankfully empty single public toilet. You didn’t even need to use it, but it’s impossible to be played if you take all your pieces off the board.
You open the door and slip inside, not looking back at the girl you left on the sand. You pull the door closed behind you but come to a sudden stop when an arm reaches into the gap and stops you. Haewon’s head flicks left and right, scanning the immediate area, her shiny brunette locks flowing as they’re thrown side-to-side.
She slips into the small room with you, slamming the door shut and flicking the lock. Haewon hesitates to turn around, still facing the door. Silence fills the room for a few seconds, and you can’t help but explore her body with your eyes. Following her flowing hair down to her white crop top. One that you mentally praise heavily for the way it reveals her lower back. 
Head cocked back. Shoulders shifting. Her chest heaves as she forcefully expels a full breath. 
Haewon spins. Her back against the door. Palms open against it too. And behind the loose locks on her face are eyes shining with intent.
Maybe she feels like she’s winning—or already won. This could be checkmate and all that’s left is for you to knock over your king and concede. But you know the truth, and the sense of accomplishment can’t help but force a smile onto your lips. All the avoidance, the refusal to text her, and the distant admiring. The acting like the fool—the flustered young man—who dipped into a bathroom to escape her. Perfect bait.
Haewon steps away from the wall and moves a little closer to you. Okay, maybe all your avoidance wasn’t acting—she does have a way of throwing you off kilter—but at least some of it was. Now locked in this room with Haewon, the result couldn’t have been closer to what you wanted.
Last time it was all her plan. Actions she set in motion and entirely dictated.
However, now as Haewon pushes her slim fingers under the hem of her top and pulls it slowly overhead, she does so on neutral ground. Ground that gratefully accepts the item of clothing as she drops her shirt to the floor.
Your smile becomes a grin as you admire what she revealed. It’s almost a talent in its own right how she had perfectly constructed the scene under her top. She picked a piece of lingerie that was designed with a sole purpose; to show as much as possible without showing everything. The smallest patch of lace possible is placed directly over the nipple, and that was it bar the straps. Cleavage. Side-boob. Under-boob. The whole fucking boob on show.
Haewon takes another step forward. There are maybe two more until she’s up against you, and she seems intent on making each one count. Haewon slips her thumbs under the waistband of her short—really short—shorts.
“Tell me to stop.”
It’s a dare.
Another test.
One of many where she thinks the only acceptable answer is silent awe. 
“Don’t stop.” Contradictory. Stern. Not a voice, in tone or content, that you’ve used with Haewon before.
Could be that, given the headstrong young woman she is, she hides it well, but your answer doesn’t break her composure and she forces her shorts away from her hips, letting them hit the floor in a similar fashion to her top. 
Although she has no smart remark to return, her actions do the talking as her structured performance continues. Another step, her hands snaking behind her back toward the clasp of her bra. As she plants her left foot, she pops it open—the fabric giving way to the two bundles beneath. Haewon brings her hands to her side, allowing the bra to fall from her body. It lands atop her shorts, still attached to her back foot. With one swift flick, both her shorts and her bra are sent into the corner of the room.
"You should smile like that more." 
Unknowingly, unwittingly, Haewon’s exposed body has drawn a smile across your face. You catch yourself and attempt to rein it in a little. However, it's easier said than done while you admire her porcelain skin, which looks so soft to the touch. The line of her waist and how her underwear perfectly accentuates the curve of her hips. And how her two perfect tits still held a perky fullness—looking like a perfect match for the cupped palm of your hands.
Haewon continues, “As much as I appreciate the brewing mystery behind your often blank face, that confident smile is much more exciting. It’s much more you.”
It was sudden, then. Caught off balance, even with your natural charm and wit—the initiative was never yours to take. But Haewon’s right. This time you’re honing in on something. Unearthing a side to you which can take the lead with confidence and a smile. A worthy opponent to her bravado.
"Then keep giving me reasons to smile."
"I'm giving you a reason to do a lot more right now." Haewon reaches out, places her hands on your shoulders and then runs one of them down to your chest. Her soft tones and slow movement contrast how she digs her nails into your skin through your shirt.
She's right. And it's outright foolish to even still be clothed right now. It's easily fixed. You pull the hem of your shirt upwards, and Haewon raises her hands to let it go by before planting them down—now against your bare skin.
"Better," Haewon whispers as she runs her eyes down your upper body. “Now. How about I…” She lets the words roll slowly off her tongue as she buckles one knee and slowly falls to the other.
“Wait.” Determined to have your own say on the pace of this encounter, you halt Haewon. A word accompanied by a hand wrapped around her nape. You pull back as you lean forward, taking her heart-shaped lips with your own. Capturing them with audible assertion, you engage her with gumption. It only lasts a moment before Haewon twists free and captures her breath. 
Inches apart, yet connected by a fine silk string of saliva. Lips not touching but still kissed with the heat of each other’s breath. Her eyes holding you in a grasp that her hands couldn’t manage. There’s no guarantee. This could be one of many times, or it could never happen again, so you can forgive yourself for enjoying the heat of this moment for a little.
“No more waiting,” Haewon snaps. Keeping her waiting almost feels criminal—though that’s nothing compared to what will come next.
She slips your grasp and retakes hold of the wheel, driving her way inside your shorts. In the blink of an eye, they’re by your ankles, and her delicate touch meets your delicate parts. Her fingers find their way over every part of your growing cock. She tickles, pulls, tugs and rolls it around in her touch.
“I missed this,” Haewon says under hot breath as she pulls her hands away, admiring your length with only her eyes.
“I missed you,” you confess. And not a word of a lie. How could anyone not miss this pretty girl with her perfect touch?
“Really?” Her expression half one of happiness and half unsure of your honesty.
“Really.” Your answer triggers Haewon’s next move. She positions herself dangerously close to your semi-erect cock, such that each breath kisses it with heat and forces a small twitch. With parted lips, Haewon’s tongue slips from her mouth and hooks it underneath the tip. But she doesn’t rest on her laurels, instead, she pulls her head upwards, her tongue lifting your cock upwards. She holds it there for a second, suspended in the air.
Haewon presses forwards, pursing her lips into a snug fit for the head of your cock. Retracting her tongue to guide you into her. It’s a swift move, one of elegance and precision that ends with most of your cock nestled into her mouth.
You’d be forgiven for thinking that her tongue has done its job, got you where you needed to be and then would take a rest. Alas, it simply begins the second part of its performance. It slides. It swirls. It wraps around your cock in patterns that seemed impossible. You glance down, Haewon has her eyes closed in pure concentration. 
She’s giving her everything, her whole fucking soul to one thing—
Your pleasure. 
What could be a minute—or could be more—passes. Time is a concept beyond your current comprehension. The whole world could be in reverse right now and Haewon’s swirling tongue would make you none the wiser. 
Haewon’s cheeks hollow as she sucks hard on your dick, accompanied by a backward movement of her head. With just her mouth, she pulls your hips forward until you’re forced to pull back to maintain balance. What went in is nothing compared to what came out. Haewon wipes away the spit running from her lips and admires it. Your cock stands stiff, smothered and dripping with saliva that reflects the light above.
“I really fucking missed it,” Haewon says, wrapping her hand around the shaft. “I need it.” She gives you every reason to be confident in yourself, and given how fixated her eyes are; you have every reason to believe her.
“What about you?” Haewon continues. “Did you miss this?”
Haewon keeps hold of you for balance, throwing her other hand behind her head and leaning backwards. Her knees on the floor, legs slightly open, with her thighs pressing down against her calves, accentuating their softness. 
"I really fucking missed it. I need it," You copy her, word for word, with the same playful tone.
“Of course you did. That’s so obvious.” Haewon speaks as she climbs to her feet. “So when are you going to stop fucking around?” 
With a wave of hair washing over your face, Haewon spins and steps back into you, then nestles her head back into your shoulder and her ass against your bare crotch.
“Do I have to keep throwing myself at you or are you going to take me?” She brings her hand to her face while she speaks and once she stops, drops a pool of saliva into her palm. 
“You’re such a red flag, Haewon.”
“That so?" She pauses for a moment to allow a pool of saliva to fall from her lips into the palm of her hand. "I guess I see it.” Haewon continues a conversation in parallel, yet unrelated, to her actions. Her hand finds your length again, adding to the copious fluids before placing it between her plump cheeks where just a thin piece of fabric prevents a happy accident. “What kind of girl just throws herself at someone in a classroom, then follows him into a toilet, right? What, do you think I do this to everyone?”
“I don’t know what to think, and that’s the red flag. What happened to a nice dinner and getting to know eachother?” 
She’s pushing down on your hips, making you lower your body, your cock sliding down against her pants until you go low enough for it to slip between her legs. A small nudge back and you’re stuck. Trapped on three sides, the tops of her thighs on either side and the sticky warmth in her underwear above.
“I think we're a little bit past that already, this is the real test of chemistry. Why waste time at dinner if you’re just going to disappoint after?”
“So that’s what this is, an evaluation? Should I expect a score after?” The words are difficult to force past your throat when your breath is hitching. All because she’s rocking now, with her hips. Slowly backwards before snapping forward again. Engulfed in her soft flesh, there’s a gentle pressure on your cock. Enabled by her spit, you are parting her thighs and pressing against her warmth each time she sets back.
“Satisfactory.” Blunt. Almost offensive. Effective. A challenge has been set. Haewon twists her neck, peering over her shoulder.
“Satisfactory?”
“What, you’re going to get all upset now?” Haewon grins and picks up her pace, sliding her pillowy thighs over your cock, and throwing her body against yours. The thin film of sweat on her back is a little sticky against your chest.
“Not exactly.” You bring your hands into the action, a firm grip on one of her hips, burying your fingers into her flesh and the other guiding your arm around her upper body—pacifying her movements. You unbend your knees and un-sink your hips.
You continue, “why don’t you tell me what it takes to excel?” All the while pushing yourself away from the wall, and you guide Haewon forward before directing her to the right-hand wall. You manipulate her like a puppet suspended from strings—if the strings were your arms and your stiff cock jammed against her soaked panties.
“I like someone who knows when to take—” Haewon is cut off as she braces herself for a collision against the sink and the mirror behind it. 
“—control.”
With a hand in the centre of her back, you create momentary separation. Enough to slide down to your knees. You face her milky ass, divided in the middle by jet-black fabric. It’s mostly easy to slide the soft lace away from her hips and down her legs. The bit between her legs is the last to give way, the sticky mix of her wet pussy and your saliva needing it to be peeled away from her smoothly-shaven skin.
“And?” you ask, looking up and her glistening eyes, which yet again peer over her shoulder.
“Someone who knows what they want and how to take it.” You know exactly what you want. It’s destiny. Destiny is a funny name for the lips of her cunt peeking through the gap at the top of her thighs.
"Ah!" Haewon yelps as her glistening, fair skin accepts you—engulfs you—as you dive face-first into her. A hold on her hips enables you to dig deeper, propelling your mouth toward her delectable pussy. You'll make her wait for your verbal response as your mouth gets to work, lapping up any moisture you can find on her plump lips. 
"F-fffuck." Haewon curses under her breath as your tongue pierces into the tight folds of her cunt. Her thick thighs and voluminous ass don't make it easy on you to bury your tongue into her. An impossible combination of firm and soft which would send any man into spiralling wonderment.
Haewon fights. Struggles. Doing so verbally. Uttering instructions which fall upon deaf ears. Physically. Reaching out behind her in desperate attempts to grasp your hair. Each time she has a hold, there’s a moment of pain before another wave of pleasure numbs her grip, and her digits fall helplessly through your locks.
It's clear that she's scrambling for answers, for as much as she baited—even gaslit—this response from you, she didn't really expect it. Not like this. Maybe in a way that she could easily wrestle back control. But likely not in a way that would result in her being subdued against a sink. 
Yet here you are. With hands exploring all the parts of her body you fantasise about. Eating her cunt with ravenous intent. You're giving her your all. Really fucking giving her it. 
Looking up past her plump cheeks that fill most of your vision, the result is clear to see. Long gone is the fight, the resistance, even that intense stare she gave you. Her arms don't reach for you but instead look to support her trembling body. Her head is thrown forward as it spills out utter gibberish via her mouth. Half-words and full-truths. You're so good. You manage to piece that one together from the three attempts she took at it. 
Pointless words really. All the vindication you need runs from your chin and drips to the tiled floor.
Time stood still, or it sped up—one of them. Either way, the concept of linearity is lost on you. Lost somewhere in the time you spent eating her cunt. Lost somewhere among the myriad of curves her body presents, admired with a caress of your gaze and rhythmic touch.
It's both a vindication of your efforts and a desperate plea for more, the way she uses her hands on the wall, the mirror, the sink, and anything she can grab to force herself back against your mouth. She's absolutely insatiable, but, so are you.
A moment later and you’re back up to your feet, prying Haewon from the sink and twisting her, so her shoulders press against the wall. Your body pressed against hers. Lips pressed against another pair, your face soaked in liquid does nothing to prevent Haewon from kissing you. She looks different now. Bright red and flustered, the heat radiating from her face burns at your cheeks like you got a little too close to a fire. 
Somewhere shuffled into a series of kisses are Haewon’s breathy words, “I’m going to fuck you now.” followed by a push on your shoulders, planting you against the wall. While Haewon wraps her arms over your shoulders and around your neck, her legs around your hips and to your back, your mind calls back her earlier words. Someone who knows what they want, and how to take it.
Haewon clings to you. Your frame is her only support, with both your hands on her ass, holding her just one swift movement away from your cock. She said she was going to fuck you, and she is trying. Really fucking trying. But it’s about what you want, and how you take it.
“No, baby girl. I’m going to fuck you now.”
Another moment passes and the pendulum swings again in your favour. She has nothing to fight back with and you easily propel yourself away from the wall and send the two of you crashing into the wall opposite, narrowly missing the hand dryer and thankfully doing no damage to the mirror you plant her against. You figure that it's inevitable, that you'll pay in some form for today's actions, but a fine for damaging a public restroom is at the bottom of the preferred list.
"Tell me Haewon, who's going to fuck who?" you query, but it's rhetorical. You aren't open to negotiation or delay. You take ownership of the moment, pressing yourself up against her. Your face buried in the crook of her neck, licking along her chin and grinding your body against hers. With an arm wrapped around her waist, you pull her close, feeling the warmth from her bare cunt against your thigh. Your lips quickly find hers and you take her in a brief but passionate kiss, then her neck again—ravaging what skin she has exposed with kisses, nibbles, and licks, driving her wild as she grinds against your leg.
"Look at you, Haewon. I'm gonna fuck you so good. You want that, don't you baby?" She can't answer, she's already so overwhelmed, so you continue, "I need to hear you say it," you mumble to her between kisses.
"Y-yes," she barely croaks out. "F-fuck me..."
And that was your cue. There's a certain energy surging through your veins as you practically pry Haewon from the wall. Legs still hooked around your waist, arms thrown over your shoulders, forehead to forehead. With your own strength and aid from gravity, she sinks.
As does your cock. Inside her warm cunt. Wrapped in the tightness, feeling her warmth surround you. Haewon leans her head back, pressing her head against the wall and exposing her neck to you, which you use as an invitation to assault with your tongue and your teeth. You start slowly thrusting upwards into her, forcing small thrusts, each one pushing your body up onto the tips of your toes before settling again. Each forward push causing her body to tense, back arching into your chest.
"G-g-god," is about all you get from Haewon while her face rolls forward, eyelids fluttering open for a moment. Hair now a tangled mess across her face, her lips remain parted. The breaths she lets out through them are hot, dry, and barely audible.
Rather than allow the wave of pleasure rolling down her body to subside, you pick up the pace. Feet almost stomping up into her now. Her head is empty, save for a few select words; my cunt, your dick, so big, fuck me, and finally, the all-too-expected, why'd you stop?
While moments before you were doing all the work and she was little more than a fleshlight hooked on your waist, you want more. Re-situating yourself, slipping an arm under her left leg, so it lays in the crux of your elbow. And the same with the right. It doesn't take long to step away from the wall, the added support from your arms ensuring she doesn't fall to the floor. But now the power really is in your hands and you pivot the two of you around.
On this edge, Haewon is both your burden and your liberation. Feet adjusting on the floor and back sliding against the slick tiles, an arm on the sink and a hand digging itself against your shoulder. Dangling from your lap, thrusting wildly against her pussy. Squeezing your cock.
A silent taunt, a threat, a promise.
Any of the above, or all of the above. It doesn't matter which one, what matters is how you feel.
Feeling words can't describe—well, words probably can, but you're incapable of stringing them together right now. With a grip like steel on the soft padding of her ass, you whisper, "gonna make you cum."
"I can't—not like this."
You don't take the bait. You never did, and you never will. Always something she needs, always something you have to put in or give up. Fuck that. It's your time to put all the effort in and pull some satisfaction out of her.
"Like this," you say sternly and she shoots you a look and you fire one right back.
Haewon bites her lip, then her body slackens, her arms relax, and the tension dissipates. A nod for you to proceed as you wish. Which you will.
You grip her, hands clasped behind her back. Haewon reaches out, a hand on the sink, a forearm on the dryer. It's far from elegant but it's damn sure effective as you redden her thighs with the rhythmic slap of your hips.
Her moans are stifled by the drool pooling down her chin as her eyes roll backwards. Climactic gurgles and pained breaths fill the room, which is only half covered by the rush of water from the sink's faucet. Somehow, someway, Haewon's helplessly suspended foot had hit it. Not that either of you care.
"Cum for me." Your hips show her no mercy as you slow and hold each thrust with deliberate depth. With every inch you have to offer penetrating her sweet cunt as your final bid to achieve victory in this battle of wills.
"Ugh! Fuck!"
You didn't think she could tighten any more, but she does. As a shudder washes down her body from head to toe, Haewon lets loose, coating your cock with fluid as she goes limp in your grasp. With her still in your arms, you sink, bringing her down with you. Your bare ass hits the tiled floor and it bucks your hips into her still-tense cunt. The friction of her hot, soaked inner walls rubbing up against your length causes a low groan to erupt from you.
There's a short span, a transient moment, where the two of you are just there. Quiet. Close. Eye-to-eye. Both are naked and one still coming down from a high while the other is still on the cusp of achieving it. Both are completely vulnerable, no cover or modesty. Just flesh and her impending words.
Your silence prompts her.
"W-what about you?"
"What about me?" You answer with a question, a smirk on your lips as you feel her loosening her tight grip on your cock.
"Ugh, do I have to tell you to cum?"
"Don't worry, Haewon." Your assurance has little weight behind it. It's a preface. A statement, yet unfinished. Your eyes stare longingly at her. A well-placed pause allows your mind to linger on the lusty gaze, parted lips, and complete ease with the proximity. It's a moment worth taking advantage of and savouring. And that's just what you do. You let time tick past a second. Another. Another. And then it's a sentence completed as you finish with the actual words, "I was going to cum whether you tell me or not."
Another sudden move. Pushing your thighs upward, so her rear is supported, and a firm grip on her shoulders pulls her face towards yours. She gets it. Or at least she complies enough to lift herself a little and free your stiff cock. You hold her in a kiss as she takes hold of your cock. Haewon firmly squeezes you in her palm and begins to stroke, almost clinically as she concentrates fully. Her wetness lubricated your shaft. She doesn't linger. Her touch is swift and not lacking in determination or precision. You're all hers, and you have been this whole time.
The truth is simple enough; the act is no different from the countless times you've thought about her after last time, and how many times you've helped yourself to sweet thoughts. It's all the same. She's a blurry mess in your memories; all of the little moments when she lingered in your mind. And it's all the same now. So easy, the motions her fingers force you through. Her touch is unchanging and full of vigour. You're more than confident she would be the same, regardless of what position or state the two of you were in. It's perfect and she's perfect and—
"Fuck," you curse under your breath, so taken aback by what just happened. It took over you, gripping every fibre of your being in a way that even now, it feels foreign and a little numbing. Your chest rises and falls, desperately trying to get as much air into your lungs.
Haewon flashes a smile, she knew. How could she not know? That's why it wasn't necessary to utter the word. Haewon lets herself sink back, lying between your legs. You look down at her. That flushed and sticky face. The tangled locks of her hair. The playful tongue perched on her lower lips and the grin behind it. Those eyes full of satisfaction observing her own body and the mess you made on her stomach.
That fucking smile.
She's all yours, and she has been this whole time.
***
You knew they were talking about it. Everyone in the whole damn building knew and it had only been a week.
The whispers of everyone you walked past tainted your ears. The eyes of passers-by and the stifled giggles of the stationary huddles. Word got out somehow and it was the next big thing. Sure it would pass in a week, but for now its was your name and Haewon's on everyone's lips.
If only they knew. If only they knew that right now you were heading to the locked library that Haewon had stolen the key for so you could fuck each other senseless while you skipped a class. Then they would really have something to talk about. Maybe she was the bad influence and not you. Or maybe you were a bad influence too.
Or maybe you were a good influence. That's the one that appealed to you. You have to admit, you were more attentive now. You found her more beautiful now than you had previously. You really did have an attraction. An affinity with her. It wasn't purely physical and that had to mean something. You didn't plan for this, but you're in it now.
That's the thing about trouble. You don’t look for it. It finds you. 
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andypantsx3 · 9 months
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all in a day's quirk | sero hanta
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pairing: Sero Hanta / Fem Reader
length: 5.3k
summary: Sero gets hit with a quirk that makes others see him as the person they are most attracted to. Which you really wish you had known before you opened your mouth and gave him your usual, “Hey, Sero!”
tags/warnings: pro hero au, fluff, misunderstandings, quirk accident, not actually unrequited feelings, smut, thigh riding, fem reader (no pronouns but AFAB genitalia terms used), aged up characters
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It was approximately four thirty-three p.m. when Sero Hanta returned from patrol and blew your peaceful day to bits.
Before his arrival, the Todoroki Agency had been relatively quiet, as it usually was around this time, everyone but the on-call staff winding down for the day. You’d been hearing the telltale rustling of jackets and scuffle of feet in the office behind you since the clock ticked past four.
Not long after, a couple of your friends from the analytics department had wandered over to your desk, clearly deciding they were not going to get anything else done, gossiping and stealing the candies you kept in a glass bowl on the reception counter.
“I heard Shouto’s manager is considering signing him up for a shirtless charity calendar,” Mari told you immediately, wiggling her eyebrows. “Hana from brand management said she was asked to do research on the impact the calendar had on other pros’ careers, so I think this is serious.”
She looked beyond pleased, her cheeks pink and her ears tipped red, the way they always were when she contemplated her massive crush on your agency head, Todoroki Shouto.
You couldn’t fault her–Shouto was incredibly handsome and kind, if a bit spacey–but you’d always been drawn to a different pro hero on the agency roster. Someone just a little bit taller, with dark hair and a half-moon grin, a razor sharp sense of humor, and the most inconceivably mouth-watering thighs in the pro hero business.
Not that you had been giving them attention. Much.
You suppressed the urge to ask if anyone else from the agency was being considered for the calendar, wiggling your eyebrows back. “Well I know you’ll be the first in line.”
Mari’s blush deepened, and Kimiko laughed around an orange-flavored candy, which you stocked for many reasons other than a certain tape-themed hero’s predilection for oranges, thank you very much.
“I just hope they include Uravity-san,” Kimiko said. “I mean–not shirtless shirtless, but like, god would I kill for her in a little sports bra.”
Kimiko sounded unaffected, but you’d literally hidden her beneath your desk the time pro heroes Uravity and Deku visited for an agency team-up with the Todoroki office. She’d spent the entire time peering out with big eyes, muttering under her breath, “I am so gay. So very very gay.”
You didn’t doubt if Uravity were included in the spread, Kimiko might even beat Mari out for the first spot in line.
“You both have such kind hearts,” you laughed. “So eager to give to charity.”
“I’m a lifelong philanthropist,” Mari agreed, picking up your pen and doodling hearts all over your office stationery. You noticed she colored in only the left side, and suppressed another laugh.
Whatever. You knew what it was to be that whipped, even if you’d never do anything about it.
As huge as your thing was for Sero, there wasn’t a chance in hell he returned your affections. He was incredibly friendly, but over the past few years, he’d never even given a hint that he was into you like that. He’d treated you with the same easy cheer and subjected you to the same good-natured roasting he did everyone else in the agency.
And now was not the time to go looking for more, anyway. You’d recently become close enough to see Sero outside of work and you were not about to endanger that–you’d been invited to a house party of his a couple months ago, gone to drinks with him and a couple of agency people after work, and even grabbed dinner alone a few times over the past few weeks. You’d been texting memes practically nonstop this entire week alone.
He was so much fun, always quick with a joke, a wink, or an interesting story, and he wasn’t afraid to tell things like they were. You forgot time was passing when you were with him, and sometimes when you went out, you stayed out long enough that you thought he might, too.
So you were finally reaching a stage in your friendship where Sero clearly felt close and comfortable—you would not press for more.
It was just, sometimes, when he smiled down at you with that clever, mischievous grin, your heart felt like it was experiencing some sort of medical event. Sometimes, when he put his dark hair up into a messy half-bun, those biceps cording as he did so, it felt like someone had just vacuumed all the oxygen straight out of your lungs. Sometimes, when he leaned down to whisper something to you in his most conspiratorial tones, it felt like someone had spiked your brain into a blender and pureed it into mush.
But it was cool.
You knew how to play it cool.
Mari pulled you back to earth with the promise of more gossip—this time, about her arch nemesis in accounting—and Kimiko leaned in, offering her own commentary over the unwrapping of another of your candies.
And then the clock struck four thirty-three, and Sero Hanta returned from patrol.
You heard the telltale mechanic ping of an agency badge passing checkpoint, and peeked around Kimiko to see Sero trudging through the doorway, looking strangely contemplative. He was covered in dirt and his uniform was slashed in several places, including a great deal of shredding about the thighs, which you would have been happier about if he didn’t look so unusually subdued.
He didn’t look hurt at any rate, so that was good. But you couldn’t help but call out to him.
“Hey Sero!” you said, curious about his demeanor. “How’d patrol go? Something happen?”
Kimiko and Mari turned around, and you watched as both of them seemed to freeze up. Kimiko’s hand slapped against the reception counter, the sound echoing through the room, gripping tightly as though she’d suddenly seen a ghost.
“Ur–Uravity-san,” she said, dipping into the most formal bow you’d ever seen her make. “What’s brought you here?”
You felt your mouth pull into a frown, staring at the back of her head in absolute bamboozlement. Was she seeing things? The only person in the doorway was Sero, and he was very much unaccompanied.
His helmet was propped between his hip and his elbow, so his face was clear too–so Kimiko didn’t even have the excuse of not being able to see his face, different though his costume was from Uravity’s.
Sero blinked, his mouth pulling into a semi-puzzled grin. “Uravity?”
Mari was slapping Kimiko before you could inquire the same thing, hissing, “Are you losing it? That’s fucking Shouto.” She turned back to pin you with something between a glare and a concerned, assessing gaze, as if you too had lost your marbles.
You frowned back, your own concern deepening. “I’m sorry–are you guys seriously telling me that Shouto and Uravity are here with Sero?” You peered back around Mari at Sero, quirking a brow at him. “Did they get hit with some kind of invisibility quirk or are these two experiencing some kind of hallucination?”
Maybe too much shirtless calendar talk had gotten them too hot and bothered.
Sero’s dark gaze pinned you, and he quickly came tromping over, his boots echoing on the stone flooring. He leaned over the reception counter, pointing to his face with one long, pretty finger. “Wait, you can tell it’s me?”
He smelled like cement and sweat and dust, and something vaguely minty, like he’d been chewing gum recently. You tried not to let your expression show how much you liked the look of him up close, those hooded dark eyes, his wide, charming mouth.
“Um, yes? I have eyeballs?” you wondered.
Sero blinked, leaning in closer. Your heartbeat ticked up. “You’re sure?”
“Should I not be…sure?” you asked. “Are Shouto and Uravity really with you and I’m the only one who can’t see them?”
Sero shook his head, “Nah–it’s just me.”
You frowned up at him, curious. “Then why are they calling you Shouto and Uravity…?”
Sero shook his dark head. His hair was pulled into that half-bun you loved, the way it usually was under his helmet on patrol, and all mussed from whatever run in he’d had. You tried not to think about what other activities might get his hair all mussed like that.
He smiled, something wide and conspiratorial. “Got hit with some kinda illusion quirk. People have stopped me like a thousand times on my way in to ask for All Might’s autograph, or Hawks’, and even Bakugou’s. They’re lucky it was just me, he’d have thrown a shit fit getting cut off in the street like that.”
Sero’s features shifted into something slightly more contemplative again. “But you’re somehow immune, huh?”
You frowned. “Shouldn’t you get checked out at medical, then?”
His eyes softened, and another grin made its way onto his mouth. “Yeah yeah, I’ll head right there.”
Kimiko and Mari were still gaping over at him like he was a miracle, and some strange feeling came over you, a concerned little squeeze of your heart. You grabbed Mari, plonking her down into your seat in your stead. “Cover me for a couple minutes? Just say people are unavailable and take notes and I’ll figure it out when I get back. I’m gonna run down to medical with Sero for a second.”
Mari nodded dumbly.
You pulled Sero’s helmet out of his grip, resting it in the crook of your own elbow, and gestured him down the hall with you. Sero fell into step beside you, keeping up easily with his long stride. He grinned down at you, seemingly unperturbed that he’d gotten hit with a quirk that had all but erased his identity in the eyes of others.
It was something you admired in him, his inherent good-naturedness.
You wondered why you were the only one who could tell it was him.
“Any good gossip while I was gone?” he asked, like he really couldn’t be fussed about his predicament. “I was starting to hear shirtless calendar talk before I had to head out on patrol.”
You suppressed a flush and fought down the urge to ask if he’d been asked to be in it too.
You did not need to know.
“Whatever the hell is going on with you is the spiciest bit of gossip all day,” you told him, rounding a corner and badging into the stairwell down to the medical floor. You clung to the railing carefully and most definitely did not watch his thighs bunch as he took the stairs. “Want a drink after work? It seems like you could use one, after this.”
Sero smiled, an eyebrow raising. “Trying to get me drunk, huh?”
You wrinkled your nose. “As if I’d need to be so underhanded.”
You did. You did need to be so underhanded.
Sero had to angle himself carefully through the door, his shoulder pieces liable to snag on the doorway with the breadth of those pro hero shoulders. The medic on staff took one look at him and flushed, mumbling out a name you didn’t know.
You piped in before she could say more. “Cellophane’s been hit with a quirk that makes him appear like someone else. It’s not whoever you think!”
She blinked curiously, but then nodded, probably having seen much weirder things in her time as a hero agency staffer. She gestured Sero to a cot on the side of the room. “Alright, please sit down, Cellophane. We’ll do a couple quick tests and then get you sorted with the right quirk cancellation.” Her cheeks seemed to heat again as she spoke, but she made good on her promise, disappearing down the hall, calling to someone for quirk testing strips.
Sero hopped up on the cot, swinging those long legs, grinning at you from eye-level, now. “Think I should prank a couple people before they cancel it?”
You rolled your eyes. “Only you would be having fun with this. No one in the world knows who you are!”
The corner of Sero’s mouth pulled wryly. “You do.”
“You don’t know if that could change, dude. Better get it over with before you get stuck as like, Endeavor forever.”
Sero laughed, light and airy. “Shouto wouldn’t hang with me anymore.”
You nodded. “Exactly, and none of the rest of us read the same weird manga you guys are into so you’d be all alone with no one to fanboy about it to.”
The medic returned with a thick silvery strip, pulling on blue nitrile gloves as she did so. Sero held his arm out obligingly, the lean muscle flexing in the fluorescence of the office lighting. She peeled off the backing of the strip, pressing it to Sero’s forearm, pushing it down firmly.
She attached a cable to some screened device, and you listened to the beep of various buttons. Sero watched you over her shoulder, his easy smile still in place.
Finally, the device in the medic’s hand beeped, and she pulled back, announcing somewhat shyly, “An attraction-type quirk.”
You blinked, mystified. A what?
Sero’s grin seemed to freeze on his face, and his thin brows furrowed the tiniest bit.
The medic continued, oblivious. “This quirk creates an illusion. External parties will perceive the affectee with the traits or as the person they are most attracted to.”
Sero’s dark eyes snapped to yours, widening, and you fumbled a step back, almost tripping over yourself. You threw out a hand, barely catching yourself on the counter.
No.
Oh fuck no.
If people were seeing who they were most attracted to…and you had just seen Sero the whole time…
That would mean—that would mean—and he had heard you say—
“Oh my god, I just remembered I have to get back to Mari,” you said, offering Sero a wave of your suddenly numb hand. “Can’t, um, strand her at the desk for too long. I’ll leave you guys to it. Uh, yeah. Thanks–bye!”
You quickly threw yourself out through the door, leaving Sero alone with the medic. You dashed back up the stairwell, your heartbeat shooting into your mouth.
How could this be happening? How unbelievably embarrassing was that? You’d worked so hard to play it cool in front of Sero for all this time, for years, really, and you’d finally just made it to a comfortable place as friends.
And then—and then—some attraction-illusion quirk goes and blows your cover, just like that? For real?
And he’d heard you, too. Heard you say, “Hey, Sero!” as soon as he’d come through the door, before anyone had revealed anything about who else they thought he might be instead. Before you could have possibly had any clue that he’d been quirked.
You could die of mortification.
You shooed Mari and Kimiko away from the desk when you got back, quickly readying your things to get the hell out of the office as soon as your night replacement arrived. You cleaned up all the bi-colored hearts Mari had doodled on every available surface of your desk and refilled the candy bowl Kimiko had apparently seen fit to devastate in your absence, your ears heating with the thought that Sero could catch on now, why you stocked orange candies.
God, could your replacement hurry the fuck up before Sero got back here?
But the night receptionist was predictably late, of course, and by the time you finally saw him badge through the front entrance you could hear quick, booted steps across the tile behind you.
Sero’s voice sounded over the back of your chair, just as a long-fingered hand closed around your wrist.
“Y/N,” he said, his voice more careful than you’d ever heard it. “Still up for that drink? I think maybe we could talk over it.”
The night receptionist nodded at you and Sero as he made his way over, and you gave up your chair to him, collecting your bag with Sero’s warm fingers still clutching your wrist. You slowly worked up the courage to look up at him, face heating as you took in his uncharacteristically intent expression. His face had been cleaned and it looked like some antibiotic had been applied to some of the scrapes along his jaw.
You knew then you’d trapped yourself. Though it was probably also better to get things over with now than avoid the subject forever.
“Okay,” you said, trying to keep your voice normal. “Yeah, let’s talk.”
Sero was the nicest dude ever, you had to remember that. Even when it came down to a rejection, he would still be completely kind and friendly. Probably not too much would change on his end afterwards either. You couldn’t imagine him avoiding you or treating you any differently.
“My place okay?” Sero asked as you shrugged on your bag.
You nodded, and he smiled, nearly as wide and silly as he normally did, tinged with only the slightest bit of shyness.
You’d originally planned to take him out somewhere fun, but this conversation was probably best had in private. And Sero’s place was close, an apartment only a couple blocks’ walk, in a charming little neighborhood fringed by a park and a variety of interesting bars and cafes. Sero chatted away with his usual friendly ease as you walked, still in his shredded hero costume, waving to the couple people that recognized him as you did so.
Your stomach flipped as he opened his front door, gesturing you inside under his arm. He was tall and lanky enough that you fit easily, and you caught a whiff of that minty scent again under all the dust that coated his uniform. You tried not to look too closely at the lines of his bicep as you passed under it.
His apartment was just as you’d remembered it; spacious, casually decorated in neutral tones with splashes of interesting patterns spread across the rug, throw pillows, and his collection of wall hangings. It smelled cottony and clean, and Sero gestured you to his couch as he dumped his helmet and boots in the doorway, shrugging off his shoulder pieces.
“A beer cool?” he asked as he made his way into the kitchen. “I’ve got a couple of good ones.”
“Sounds great,” you told him, listening to the sounds of him cracking the caps.
To your surprise he plopped down on the couch next to you as he came back in, handing you a bottle. It was cold, and your fingers made little prints in the condensation where you touched it.
“So,” he said, turning to you, a sly look in his dark eyes. “You wanna talk about what just happened?”
Your face flamed, and you took a quick sip of your beer to give you time to recover yourself. It was sour on your tongue, a hint of orange peel in its profile.
“No,” you told him honestly, giving him a self-conscious smile, which he returned. “I think it’s pretty clear, actually. You got hit by a quirk that shows people the person they’re most attracted to and I, uh, obviously saw, um, you.”
Sero’s grin pulled wider at the edges, surprising you. If you didn’t know better, you would think he liked hearing that. Although maybe it was a little bit of an ego stroke to hear you were someone’s fantasy man, even if you didn’t return their feelings.
“Not All Might and not Bakugou,” he said, something pleased in his tone.
You blinked at him, disturbed by those insinuations. “Definitely not,” you sniffed. “I am a paragon of taste.”
Sero laughed, his fingers flexing on the side of his beer. Then he took a sip, seeming to contemplate something as he did, and you drew yourself together, preparing for the inevitable. That was definitely a look that said he was thinking hard, probably about the best way to let you down.
But then Sero grinned back down at you, leaning in collusively. “You wanna know something?”
You could feel your brows raise curiously, even as your heartbeat picked up with his proximity. You looked down, then accidentally spied the strips of tanned thigh where his costume had torn, and had to quickly reroute your gaze for fear of staring. “That depends.”
Sero’s grin went even more sly. “I think if you’d been hit with that quirk, I’d have known it was you too.”
Your heartbeat slammed to a halt in your chest. It was only when Sero threw a hand out that you realized you’d lost your grip on your beer, his quick reflexes the only thing saving his carpet. You startled at the sudden move, making a weird arm-flinging motion somewhere between grabbing for your beer and grabbing onto him, ending up accidentally smacking him in the chest instead.
“Fuck, I—sorry!” you garbled out, stunned by his sudden proximity and the fistful of his costume you’d taken. His skin was warm against the side of your hand.
Sero blinked, looking taken aback for a moment. Then he shifted, and you heard the clink of two beers being deposited on his coffee table. You swallowed, unable to look away from him, and you watched his dark eyes rove over your face, before dipping down to stare at something just under your nose.
A shiver prickled up your spine.
“So when you—with the quirk—” you tried, but your brain had gone offline, and the right set of words were not coming to you. “Um, when you say—you would have known—?”
Sero’s grin crept back across his mouth. “I mean that I’d have seen you, because I’ve been wanting to ask you out and trying to figure out if you're into me for months.”
It had to be the shock of this admission that registered you so stupid. “You—months? Try years.”
Sero’s laugh beat back the instant wave of mortification that overcame you in the next second, when you realized what'd you'd just said. You could only smile back helplessly, equally pleased and embarrassed. He looked so good right then, too, grinning toothily, his hair a mess, his costume torn to shreds. He really was the most gorgeous guy you had ever seen, that quirk had totally had your number.
It suddenly dawned on you that you had little else to lose now, with everything out in the open. And when Sero looked like that—sly, pleased, and a little bit of a mess—you thought you were done trying to bury things.
A thrill zinging down your spine, you leaned in and pressed your mouth to his.
He’d been laughing, and you only caught the edge of his mouth, but Sero quickly corrected. You could feel his lips go slack in surprise for a second, and then he was schooling himself and returning your kiss with abandon.
Long fingers came up to take your chin, holding you firmly in place. It was so unexpectedly bold that you shuddered, kissing him harder. Your hand tangled further in the fabric of his costume, gripping onto him for dear life as his tongue met yours, twisting and teasing. It was so like him, the way he kissed. Teasing, playful, easy. Your head spun with how much you liked it.
“Aw fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Sero said, when he finally pulled away far enough to enunciate the words. He shifted against you, putting a large palm against your back, pulling you to him. You followed his guidance, climbing into his lap, chasing his mouth again. You wanted more—more now that you thought you could have it.
“I’ve been wanting—for years—” you said, squeaking in surprise when Sero guided you down onto a strong thigh. It was hard and thick and way too muscular to be allowed, and your breath left you in a harsh hiss. And because this was the most embarrassing day of your life, Sero clocked it immediately, leaning forward in interest.
“You—like that? My—thigh?” he asked curiously.
You could feel your face burning, like someone had just dunked it in a bucket of hot coals. “I–yes. I like everything about you. Including your thighs,” you admitted.
Sero’s hand guided you back down against him, pressing his knee up experimentally. A thrill sang through your veins at the feeling of a piece of him so warm and firm right up against your core. You barely bit back the noise you wanted to make.
“Fuck, this is weirdly hot,” Sero said, leaning in to take your mouth again. You could feel him growing hard against your knee through the fabric of his costume, as his tongue flicked against yours, making your brain go a little woozy.
His arms came around you, holding your waist as he ground his leg up into you, sending a wave of pleasure striking through you like lightning. The moan you’d been trying to hold in finally broke free of you. “Ah—Hanta!”
The sound seem to spark something in him. Sero surged up, his hands making quick work of your shirt as he kissed you, still rocking you against his thigh in a way that made you see stars. You had the wild thought that everything about him was more than you’d ever imagined it would be, from the delicate press of his fingers to the warmth of his thigh to the way the strands of his hair that had escaped brushed across your forehead. Embarrassingly fast, like he knew exactly how to play you, he worked you up to the crest of your pleasure.
You had to put a hand to his chest to stop him.
“Hanta, if you—I’m going to cum if we don’t stop—” you said.
“Oh my god please,” was his only answer, and he pulled you down onto his thigh with renewed vigor. Sparks of pleasure pricked all over your body as he kissed you again, his hands roaming every inch of exposed skin. He left bruising kisses down the side of your throat, fingers playing with your nipples.
Another few rocks into his thigh sent you right over the edge, and he held you against him as you rode it out, squirming against his thigh.
“This is the hottest thing that has ever happened to me,” he said, something in his tone making it clear he was not done with you yet.
He helped you wiggle out of your pants, freeing himself of his own costume, and laid you out over his couch, grinning. He was golden with a fading summer tan, and his smile was so wide and charming and white against the dimming light from the windows. He was gloriously lean, hard with dense, compact stretches of muscle, every single inch of him honed from years of hero work. He was perfect—so stupidly, handsomely, perfect.
Between his thighs, his cock was just as long and lean, heavy and flush with arousal. It made you dizzy to think that this man, who you’d crushed on for so long, wanted you like this—wanted you back in the same way you’d always wanted him. You motioned him closer, too eager now to be self-conscious about it.
Sero laughed, a happy noise. “Fuck, you’re so pretty though.” He stretched out over you, sliding in between your thighs and guiding himself into you. His chest pressed to yours, hot and slick with a light sheen of sweat already, and you hissed with the feeling of him slipping inside you.
You felt drunk with arousal, crazy with want. You clutched him to you as he moved, thrusting carefully at first, as if testing the feeling of you, and then more firmly. You let out soft noises you hadn't meant to, which Sero seemed to appreciate.
“God, look at you. Listen to you,” he said, grinning down at you, his dark eyes tracing over you. “I can’t believe I got hit with that quirk. This is the luckiest day of my life—you’re so cute. So—fuck—so perfect.”
He slid into a frustratingly sedate pace, strokes long and languid, stretching out almost teasingly. You wrapped your legs more tightly around his hips, trying to press him into you, but his smile just widened. He moved leisurely, setting his own pace, just on the wrong side of too slow.
It drove you insane, somehow working you up even faster than if he’d been doing what you wanted. You muffled the sounds of your own moans against his lips, gripping onto those broad shoulders. Sero’s own fingers slid down to your clit, playing with you just as lightly and teasingly as his thrusts.
You could have killed him, but all you could do was hold onto him, slurring his name appreciatively.
He worked you like that for a while, bringing you close but never too close, drawing out the feeling into something warm and fizzy, like soda left in the sun. But eventually the band of his control seemed to snap, and he began thrusting into you harder, faster. Those long, lovely fingers circled your clit with more intent as he did, murmuring a steady stream of praise.
“Please—cum with me,” he panted into your mouth, as his fingers drew ever-tightening circles over you. “I want you to come with me, Y/N. Can you—can you do that?”
You nodded frantically as his thrusts grew faster, sloppier. He was so good inside you, so good over you, his fingers such a delicious pressure against your clit. It only took a few thrusts more, a few strokes of those careful fingers, and then you were squirming against him in earnest, your veins going molten with pleasure.
“Hanta—I’m going to—!”
“Yessss,” he hissed, and then he was orgasming too, spilling out his pleasure inside of you. His hips slapped yours in a stuttering pattern, half-crazed, and you shook against him, gasping. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you crested the wave, until finally—finally you went limp against him, just as his own body relaxed over you.
“I want to be hit with a quirk all the time,” he said, ridiculously.
You couldn’t help but laugh, smiling into his shoulder. “Don’t make a habit of it.”
Sero hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. If this is what I get every time, then…” he trailed off, smirking down at you.
“I’m not going to bang you if you’re going to be irresponsible,” you told him.
He perked up, however, those dark eyes peering at you hopefully. “But you’ll bang me otherwise?”
You laughed again, pinching him lightly on the arm where you held him. “What do you think having a crush on you for years means?”
His grin went all sly and pleased again. “Then I’ll have to lock it down, of course. I haven’t spent months wondering just to let you get away. Starting with dinner this evening, maybe. Do you—would dinner be okay?” he asked. The sound of genuine, eager hope in his voice was so gratifying it made you want to kick your legs in the air.
You settled for nodding instead. “Dinner sounds amazing.”
“Then I’ll arrange the finest takeout just for you,” he said, which you knew from experience meant the empanadas place around the corner. You laughed again, feeling full already with the promise of an easy meal, and a relationship to come.
“Whatever you want sounds good to me,” you said, even as he began to slide off of you, helping you up alongside him. “You’ve had a crazy day today, empanadas sound like the perfect cap.”
Sero leaned in, his expression as mischievous and charming as always. “It’s nothing,” he said, even as he carefully held out your shirt to you again, guiding you into it in an unexpectedly gentlemanly move. You let him stuff you into it, laughing, smiling into the kiss he gave you as you emerged.
He winked at you as he found his phone and dialed, smiling as you heard the call connect. “After all, I'm a hero," he said. "And it’s all in a day’s work.”
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uchihaharlot · 1 month
Text
Happy Smutty Shisui Sunday! I didn’t forget about my man.
This week I went to hell and back and back and back some more. Hardly had any Shisui or Uchiha simpy time for myself. 😩😭 Completely missed my ovulation horny thirst week!! I hope this makes up for it, to you and to me.
Ovulating or not, I’m still unbearably horny for this man.
NSFW; Shisui has been busting fat loads of his cum inside of you. In hopes that you’d end up pregnant & yes, I know Shisui’s birthday has passed. Consider this some sort of retroactive celebration on top of Shisui smutty Sundays.
WC: an ungodly amount of horny brain goes brrrr; mostly edited. My eye started to twitch so yea.
Well. Obviously after about six months he starts to think something is wrong with him or you. He wasn’t entirely shy when it came to making sure he thrusted his warm cum deep at your cervix. And even so far as to repeatedly fucking one load after another into you. You just sort of figured it was that Uchiha breeding kink and let him have his way to sate the desire. That maybe he couldn’t help it and that might be why you ended up beneath him for hours, folded like a pretzel and flipped over to be taken any which way.
Certainly the breeding was partial to it. Shisui really was and at some point admits to hoping you’d grow round with his baby. “…can we talk?”
Was there something wrong with the swim team? Last he checked; or well the yearly physical. They were in prime condition to root and grow inside your womb. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with him. And maybe he peeped your file and saw everything was in working order for you as well.
“Shisui-kun.” You sit with him at the table; the concern that spreads his face is immaculate. “What’s wrong?”
How does he say this without coming off as weird and maybe even a bit creepy. “I’ve been trying to get you pregnant for the better half of a year and …” full stop when you grab his hand and squeeze.
“Oh, Shisui.” That soft smile he loves so much stretches your lips. “It’s severely impossible at this time.”
Severely?
Well how in the nine circles to hell was that? ‘At this time?’ So it could or had been possible before. “Explain this, please?” It sounded so desperate when he didn’t mean it to. The words wrapped around his larynx and dried his throat, and barely sounded normal as they scratched their way out.
“It’s called birth control.” You try not to laugh, how was he unaware of this? You’ve mentioned it in the past. Maybe long ago.
“No, I would have seen you take the pill. I figured you had stopped since…well, since things are more serious.” How cute was Shisui when he struggled to express his doubts, second guessing if he was full of it or not. Certainly he knew there were other forms of contraception. The look on his face as you explain what an intrauterine device was had you almost in tears of laughter. Even someone like Obito was aware of this.
To think that a measly piece of plastic wrapped in copper was interfering with his family planning!? This was inconceivable—literally! He was an Uchiha for fucks sake. How could something with no substance other than metal and plastic prevent such powerful genes from taking root. This simply did not sit well, but eventually passed as Shisui went through the phases of realization. It almost felt wasteful to think how many times he’s tirelessly laid you down, had you cramped beneath him. Talking filth of spilling into you and milking himself bone dry.
Hot and sweaty; orgasm after orgasm. Even a silent prayer to the gods that he would be blessed with a next of kin. The sour look on his face before he sheepishly smiles said it all as you speak. “I am sorry this disappoints you.”
In reality, couples talked before they had children. Shisui was an entirely different breed of man. He didn’t operate on reckless abandon but to say that the shock value of your uterus not being at his disposal was not something he counted on when he was purposely trying to fuck a baby in you. He almost looks pitiful.
Shrugs it off. Patching up his wounded ego, “it’s fine.” When it didn’t really feel fine. A small part of you felt guilty seeing him so forlorn over it.
And another deplorably sick part of you revels in it, how desperate was Shisui to make your body his in more ways than one. “We can talk about it sometime? Typically…this is a group decision.” With what little words he could manage now, Shisui deliberated the ordeal wasn’t in his favor.
That stung a bit. His irrational need to pump you full of his own personal brand of Uchiha specimen completely outweighed the rational sense of procreation. It was a dual effort and Shisui, too, felt a twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry.”
Yes, he was. You can see it, feel it. How adorably cute he looked with puppy dog reds. So caught in his emotions that the forehead kiss you planted took a beat for it to register. “No harm, no foul.” Your forgiveness was much appreciated. You took it far better than he anticipated in this instance.
From that day forward, a new idea populated in your mind. It was stupid as all hell, but what a better birthday gift than the very thing that tormented his ability to impregnate you. It crossed your doctor as weird when you asked if you could take it with you. Usually it was a firm no, this was a biological hazard. But having the privilege of dating one of the most influential men of all times, from the most prestigious clans the Hidden Village ever produced. The only time you would ever pull that sort of weight over your head. Shisui would surely not appreciate you using the Uchiha name to get what you wanted.
Much less to instill fear into the doctor with no recourse to back it up.
But it works in your favor. Wrapped up cute, the device rests in a small box. Of course this wasn’t a real gift, it was a gag. The real gift was some specially designed and crafted ninja tools, a subscription to that expensive ass hair care he bought throughout the year and well. Your undying love and affection of course. What better way to bring a man to his knees when he came home from a long mission than to tell him that your womb was for the taking? It was hardly romantic, how were you supposed to know this man would froth at the mouth as he entered the kitchen.
Well, you should have known. The skimpy crotchless lingerie you are wearing was a welcome surprise. Then bending over into the oven as if you hadn’t noticed he was there, I mean you did. Looking over your shoulder told you all you needed to see. That thousand yard stare as the kaleidoscope behind his eyes wound tight and instantaneously bled red. Even further widening to elicit what most would call formidable. It was a treat for you when Shisui salaciously threatened you with his Mangekyō. This was a special occasion.
There wasn’t any part of you that his eyes mapped out and took in as you approached him.
“Happy birthday.” You whisper, leaning up to pepper a soft kiss on either cheek before his eagerly opening lips nip at you. “Hungry?”
How easily she looked into the Mangekyō as if it wasn’t a loaded gun. “That’s an understatement.” His hands have been running up and down your sides already, thumbing at the lacy material that did fuck all for the imagination. It literally wrote the entire thing for him. “What’s this?”
Shisui obviously knew it was his birthday, though he hadn’t expected this display of affection. Ok; that’s a blatant lie. He did expect some sort of celebration but this was on an entirely different realm than what he considered.
The opener gag gift. That little wrapped box was easy tore through in swift fashion. Though, its contents perplexed him further. Looking to you again, red silk pearls spin wildly. “That was the baby inhibitor.”
Oh. This was the thing. “Was?” Mission lag had not been kind to Shisui, it was a rough few days. Too many stalled attempts before it was accomplished. But being a genius didn’t leave him entirely ignorant. “Oh.” Like, now it clicks. That this—this exact tiny thing was the actual thing. Which meant, “you’ve been liberated.”
It was a funny way to put it, but to Shisui it meant everything. It meant that he could actually move forward with you. Not that you hadn’t already been moving forward, but this was the sort of progression he desired most.
“…has it?” He asked again, your silence only made him reconsider, and as you held his face with both palms. You gave Shisui the most tender kiss, full-mouthed and deep, he whispered through broken kisses. “Are you truly prepared for this?”
Those words alone send a heat to pool in your lower stomach. That and Shisui’s hands gripping you tightly as they trembled at the curve of your waist. Whether it be excitement or lack of sleep. Probably lack of an actual meal too. He didn’t quite feel like eating dinner in this moment.
“The situation has been rectified.” Those simple yet effective words had more of a profound impact on Shisui. Had you not realized this was something he desperately needed? “It will take a few cycles—”
Words were futile for a man in Shisui’s position. This exact moment found you backwards walked in a series of scorching katon kisses. He nearly singed the back of your throat when he kissed you this way. Maddening him further was the soft touch to his belt as you unclamp it and untucked his cock. Searing more the same kisses your jaw, throat and chest when you stroked his flaming erection. How deliciously sweet but spicy that Uchiha katon tasted as it sat in the back of your esophagus.
Your dainty bodice was left somewhere in between the hall bathroom and the master bedroom door. You were already squirming on two fingers knuckle deep before your head hit the bed. Scoffed at the loss of his cock in your hand. That crotchless little thing had Shisui spreading your slick and tonguing at your clit before you put on whatever act you had planned.
“Your…gifts.” A hopeless mewl when you came on his mouth the first time, Shisui was far too gone.
“…fuck the gifts.” This was more precious than any gift, that you were fully capable of doing him the honors of taking his genetic material and making it into something so valuable and beautiful. “…I don’t care if you take to my seed today, tomorrow or next month. This right here is for practice.”
It wasn’t any sort of sex that you and Shisui had before. Sure, sex was sex when you looked at it from any angle. But this? This was being caged under a man who had little resolve left with his actions. By no means did he hurt or leave a mark that wasn’t planted with the utmost respect for you and your body. Red marks on either side of your neck, chest and thighs. Once Shisui determines you were properly worked out enough for him.
The twitch in his cock as he luridly strokes himself before you, wild eyed and tinted. As he divides you over his length, he shucks both your knees with his arms and full on dips the entirety of his hips into the padding of your ass. It’s almost painful when he presses into you this way.
Only then did he fuck you mercilessly. The consistent deep thrusts are the first to make your eyes roll shut. Hardly ever did he use his teeth, but when you moaned out his name like that. Needy and wanting. There wasn’t anything else he thought of than to bite every inch of skin his mouth came across. You were cramped up so snug beneath him, completely immobilized and at his mercy. The subtle touch of his testicles on a full cock length thrust every now and then. His rhythm unrelenting. Shisui attentively listens to every soft mewl and whimper out of your precious mouth when his lips and fingers don’t have it preoccupied.
But damn did he love the sound of you moaning around his fingers. Choked out on three of them, as your ‘cute little pussy’—or so he called it. Fluttered and milked another deeply buried load into you, at this point he was merely tap to release. Bottoming out into a seemingly bottomless pool of his own cum. It seeped and spilled on to the nice silk sheets you intricately place earlier today.
The dull pulse of another orgasm as he continued to pump so slow, but incredulously deep. As if he purposely never fully fucked his cock into you; which was a far stretch. The many times Shisui inundated the swell of your cunt with his ever throbbing need and used it as a dump was more than you could ever count. How effortlessly he coaxed three more orgasms out of you, each one spasms and threatens another deposit out of him.
This was undoubtedly breeding. No way to describe it overwise. If you hadn’t of guess it by now, the things he said to you were more than an indication of the long night ahead of you. Powerless, but pleased to no end. You didn’t think however many orgasms he worked out of you were possible. You lay almost limp and useless. Along for the ride. Not to mention how sticky and nasty your legs felt. The amount of pain this man’s testicles would bear tomorrow morning was worth while. As if continuing to thrust into you would make his cum leak out less, Shisui was operating on what you assumed was less than half a brain cell. His eyes were lost, distant. Even with the Mangekyō boring into you this way his foresight that he was thoroughly finished hadn’t caught up.
You patted his cheek lovingly. It took a real special woman such as yourself to understand a man like Shisui.
“…Shisui-kun. You can stop now.” It wasn’t a plea, more of a distraction. There hadn’t been any warmth filling you from with in. Just whatever he managed to slosh around inside of you. It caked your insides.
But your seeet voice thrummed through his ears and his heart sank, “…oh …gods.” It was that moment he regained some semblance of control. Having fucked you on autopilot. The apologies flood as the kisses peppered your cheeks.
Here you lie, plugged. Stuffed to the brim of your cunt with his cum. Whatever didn’t manage to leak out still ever present inside you. The viscosity of it only thickens as it sits. So gentle when he slips out, the massive bubbles as his cum fully empties out of you. Shisui didn’t realize the reach of his own body. Scooping you up, he plops you into the tub.
The clock reads three hours that dinner had been sitting on the counter. The warmth of the water soothes your aching legs and back. Shisui hardly used his full strength to outmaneuver you, but this time he hadn’t the slightest how far he took it.
“I’m fine.” You smile, wholly fucked and tired. “…it was just for practice right?”
Shisui ran both hands through damp curls. He had forgotten all that was said. “It won’t be anything like that again.”
But what if you had liked it? “I’m partial to it…” dipping just below the water, up to your nose and not averting your gaze from his. “It was hot.” There you said it.
Shisui smiles the width of his mouth. Hot, you thought it was hot to be fucked like a cocksleeve? “Is that so?”
“…yes.” There wasn’t any way around it. “Just maybe, we take turns?” This was something Shisui could work with.
Slipping into the tub with you, behind you. Shisui leans you against his chest. “I can manage that.” When you mentioned it was rather endearing aside from being mostly prone. He remembers, “about those gifts?”
“After you reheat dinner.” The soft white of the foamy bath water is washed over you by Shisui with a loofah.
He could do that. He would do anything you ask of him. Especially knowing that from this moment forward, he would be undoubtedly indebted to you once that beautiful body of yours was swollen for him.
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asachuu · 6 months
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A lot of people are talking about Arthur’s age right now to the point even I know about it from under my rock, but instead of stating the obvious and simply assuming everyone is in on everything already, I’ll just ask this: what is actually so unbelievable about him being 27? I’ve heard folks say that it would mean he would be 15-16 at the time of joining his organization, which is indeed correct, but somehow, this comes as a surprise or something unacceptable, and I don’t understand why? The two literal fandom favorites, Dazai and Chuuya, met at fifteen years old when one was a mafia member already and the other joined at the same age, and no one seems to find that unbelievable?
Anyway, since I have my two cents on this matter, I have to shove the rest of this under the cut, but please bear with me here.
I presume people are mostly shocked for that reason, though do correct me if I’m wrong— I do see how it could be inconceivable to think of his whole entire background, memories, memoir and so on as being attributed to a 15-19 year old instead of someone far older, but if that’s due to any other reason than it simply not meeting expectations thanks to some former headcanons, I’m not too sure why. Obvious Fifteen parallels aside, it’s not as if BSD is some light-hearted series where characters going through incredibly harsh events we cannot even imagine have to be of legal age and in perfect circumstances to be able to handle it— I suppose some could be wondering about that aspect, but it would match up with the whole feel and plot of the story, and no part of it feels out of place. I’ll admit I used to believe Arthur was 36-37 at the time of his death as I didn’t know of his age either, but upon seeing he was a decade younger, I didn’t exactly think it to be nonsense for the sake of him being “too young”, and not to mention, this would also mirror his IRL counterpart, being 16 at the time of meeting Verlaine— which you absolutely could say is too young, considering the entire story between them, but it did happen, and BSD is based on the real-life authors after all— so I don’t see any argument against this which truly makes sense, all things considered.
That aside, I will say that Arthur’s canonical age specifically matters to me, unlike some other characters’ ages, and perhaps my reasoning could be a shared one that contributes to some of this confusion, and that is because it does change the perspective of Fifteen/Stormbringer to quite an extent. I had a whole post drafted about this already a week ago, but it seems to be even more relevant now, so I’ll just throw a part of it here and the rest in a reblog to not derail too much.
In my opinion, if one is to read Arthur’s memoir from Stormbringer, it feels much different to think of it as written by an adult as opposed to a teenager, purely because of its content— the character who has no family to return to, no loved ones or friends or even personal feelings he is allowed to have due to his job, the one who is overjoyed to finally have a partner whom he could make any difference to and who is already prepared to be forgotten after his death anyway, is not actually fully grown up, which maybe some are having a hard time accepting, I’m not too certain.
To me, this view on the story is indeed a lot sadder, especially if one is to consider his only partner betrayed him at 19 instead of whatever other theory could be in place, alongside all else I won’t be mentioning here as I believe I wrote a long enough essay about those two as is, but I don’t think any of it is strange or odd-sounding. If I may, in my personal opinion, I actually believe it makes far more sense, and not because it once again would align with his IRL counterpart even here— no, rather considering his behavior in Fifteen of desperately trying to find a way to remember his best yet only friend, likely because he hadn’t had anyone by his side from such a young age and clearly latched onto the first person he could have had alongside him, which could be a fully applicable theory even if you hadn’t seen the pair in any unrequited romantic contexts that could have been his motive. Does it make the story far more sorrowful? Yes. But does it make the story nonsense and unbelievable? Absolutely not. At this point, I would be so much more surprised if he wound up actually being 37 as I and what I suspect is a decent amount of others guessed at first, because in that case, I would somewhat understand the other side to my arguments— I still wouldn’t agree with them as I never did, even in the past when I didn’t have any extra information, but I could potentially see where they’re coming from at the very least.
I’ll just briefly acknowledge that perhaps some saw the memoir implying Arthur being more of Paul’s mentor at the time, being much older and wiser than him as would be expected, but I don’t think this was ever anyhow highlighted in the novels to make it clear that Arthur could be considered as such entirely— it was only said he would be the one to raise him, which I admit would not leave me assuming the given character is 15, but all things considered, it still aligns with everything above. I also have to acknowledge that in Fifteen, he is referred to as an “older” member of the Port Mafia, but I believe that refers to the eight years he spent in it, and was not meant to be an indicator of his actual age at the time, although compared to Chuuya and Dazai back then, perhaps 27 could indeed be seen as older in a very relative sense. Still, neither of these things are a direct contradiction to his supposed age, and while I’m not here to “prove” he’s 27 or 37 or whatever else one could assume, since I don’t have any other source of information other than the S3 guidebook and don’t have any reason to come up with alternative theories, hence why I choose to trust it unless official sources state otherwise, I’m only here because it surprises me how many people are shocked by this, as if many other characters in BSD weren’t in the same exact age range at the time of drastic or serious events happening around them/to them. I assume that, for some, this is merely something which goes against their personal headcanons or is just wholly unexpected, with nothing more in-depth sitting behind it, at whom this post is not aimed whatsoever, but I saw some saying it doesn’t even fit into canon at all, which…how, exactly? Because I don’t see it at all.
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shoko-komi · 9 months
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Weekly Komi Report - 12th of July 2023
Ahoy hoy! In addition to my usual new chapter reactions, I have some news to report. There's been goings on and I've done some... investigating (very minor)!!!!! If you're bored by this info (fair cop) skip to the green text below for the usual chapter reactions!
So long story short - about 2 months ago, Viz Media started simulpublishing new chapters of KCC on their official website (only in the U.S. and Canada U_U, and partially behind a paywall 😤) which led to Church of Potetto - the scanlation group working on Komi at the time - to drop the series and encourage readers to support the official release. No more scanlations of Komi...
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Until! Yesterday, a person or persons from the group Mylene Scans uploaded a scanlation of this weeks chapter to Mangadex ahead, not only of it's release by Viz, but of it's release in Japan! A snipe!! An act that is very much against the site's rules. The scanlation was taken down by site admins until it could safely be restored.
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So here's the little bit of investigating I did: I have entered and perused the Mylene Scans discord. It seems that they were initially unaware of the reasons the series was dropped by CoP. They're also small fries. In my personal opinion they seem somewhat irregular and disreputable. I have inquired as to whether they intend to continue the series. The Viz release is blocked behind both a region lock and a paywall, so scanlators picking up the series again would make it more accessible to readers. I'll update you if they respond to me.
Now, with that out of the way...
Chapter 411 - Summer Festival for Two!
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You can read Komi Can't Communicate on the Viz Media website, Mangakakalot, or, with the complications descibed above, on Mangadex. or elsewhere!
So right away that first image is a callback to Komi and Tadano's first summer festival together. Back then they were alone together at the festival by circumstance. This time they're alone together by intention... ooh là là
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🎵she. is. wearing. that! dress!!🎶She is wearing. that dress🎵she. is wearing that dress. the dress🎶the Ta-da-no's choice. dress 🎶
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Yipeeeeeeee!!!!! I'm certain that Kato was extremely happy to have Komi around to borrow a yukata from her mum. It's a major dose of love action to fuel her shogi powers.
Everything goes wrong in progressively terrible ways...
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Komi has to change from the beautiful yukata into her (admittedly also beautiful) regular dress.
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🎵He. is. covered in mess 🎵
This... actually was for the best. T-shirt and shorts?? C'mon man. His face here is a depth of emotion we don't often see from Tadano. His life is flashing before his eyes...
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Like I said - for the best. He changes into a nice button up and slacks. Much better.
To bad literally every inconceivable thing goes wrong at the festival asndjasd
Including but not limited to back pain
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very funny that this old lady having back pain is included in their date going badly.
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literally the saddest image ever ever produced. They're so blindsided they haven't even reacted yet.
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this is a new face for her aksjdnajsda
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NEW FACES omg. This chapter gives us so much. I WILL be using this Komi face as a reaction pic
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Literally!! Peace on MOTHER Earth!!! This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life
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she hee hees......
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computer, enhance
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smooching??? That's smooching, babey!!!!!!!!!!! aw hell yes!!!! This is such a tasteful and romantic way to handle it. The climax of the chapter is that big beautiful shot of them sharing a moment of laughter and joy in the rain, then their first (proper) kiss happens in a quiet and intimate moment. Being so far away from them is like giving them some privacy. It's beautiful. I am healed and restored 💞💞💞💞💞
Until next week!!
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scenetocause · 2 years
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i only started down the lando/max rabbit hole like 2 weeks ago (quitee some summer holiday content that was), and i'm so confused because they're just out here Being Like That and it doesn't feel like 'shipping' so much as just Live Slug Reacting?? i'm just so confused i've never had a ship like this and i regret it deeply? am i doing it wrong?
(also would appreciate being directed to any mando primers or foundational materials! thanks!)
one of the single most derangement-inducing things about max and lando is that they have been like this for!!!! ever!!!! like not assuming they'e dating feels like gal palling them. they literally announce they nap together and live together and spend every moment together and lando just wants to look after max and max loves and supports his "papaya man" (sic) and they have had special soft voices and shared experiences and it's absolutely inconceivable they haven't made out a few times and it's maxy and bob and buddy and you know, way back at the start of lockdown people would be confused by max on streams and call him the wrong max because he wasn't verstappen and lando would get Big Mad in that 'kitten having a hissy fit' way he does and be like he's not the wrong max he's my max and i'm losing my fucking mind
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snidercollier92 · 2 years
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replica birkin bag 28
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discoblocks · 2 years
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Had to finish this before it’s inevitably refuted by canon tomorrow!
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I’m have a question about Gem language, if you don’t mind answering. So Gems communicate non-verbally with each other, that I understand, but what I can’t seem to wrap my head around is how human characters can understand them and communicate with them as if they were speaking the same language. Like, how was Blue Diamond able to have a conversation with Greg, or how was Aquamarine able to ask people if they were “My Dad”? I mean, realistically speaking there would be some sort of language barrier, correct?
Great question!
Sure, there absolutely would be a language barrier, but there are automatic translation algorithms at the gems' disposal. How does anyone on Star Trek speak with aliens? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Universal Translators!
Gems are SUPER advanced in terms of tech - they've conquered light speed travel! (Maybe easier when you're literally made of light, but regardless) They have teleportation devices! Building what is essentially a universal translator would not be difficult.
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Humans, as a civilization that has barely peeked out of the crib of our own star system, already have automatic translations available to us en masse. I can go to Google translate, speak a phrase in English, and, within seconds, receive a relatively passable translation into literally hundreds of earth languages.
Now, don't get me wrong - machine translation is in it's infancy, and it's still inaccurate and human translation will be necessary for any amount of nuance, but still! That's a whole lotta advancement and convenience for a colony of organisms that barely understood computers a century ago.
For gems, I imagine building a universal translator - or a blueprint translation algorithm which would be able to take a sample of a language and create a GoogleTranslate equivalent - is child's play.
And to update this database, all one would need is, upon their approach to earth, grab some signals from the satellites hanging in our orbit (literally the amount of language data in, say, Wikipedia would be more than sufficient), analyze them for input, and then create a file for "Earth's languages".
I'm personally one of the people who REALLY like the "gems are AI" hypothesis. I imagine this sort of thing is child's play for them, similar to how we can hop in a plane and, on our way to the airport, go "hey, let me just go on the World Wide Web on my tiny computer inside my smartphone and download some local maps and a language app for this country I'm visiting." The process would be inconceivable to anyone living 50 years ago, for whom it would have taken literal days if not weeks to amass the same amount of information we can have at our fingertips by simply unlocking our home screen. By comparison, gem tech is literal millennia ahead of us.
Blue Diamond, Rubies and Aquamarine were all going to earth with goals, and those goals involved the possibility of needing to communicate with locals. I think they would have spared a second to unlock their home screen and tap the 'download Earth language patch' auto-alert before landing.
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Thanks for asking and I hope that made sense!
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Dying Clothes Black With Monster Blood; How it Might Actually Work
So a bit ago I realized that black monster blood being used to dye Witchers clothes was something that existed in fanon fairly heavily, and so me being me, I started doing some research. See, in medieval times, while a halfway decent black dye was readily available, by dying it in common dyes, first blue, then red or yellow, it heavily effected the lifespan of the garment. See, the longer a garment spent in the dye, the more it would degrade, and the shorter the lifespan of the garment. Add that to the amount of wear and tear a Witchers clothes go through and constant mending, it would last significantly shorter than any other clothes, and be far more expensive in the long run. For leather, it was far easier to dye black, needing to just soak the leather with iron and an acid (and tannins, which would have already been in there from the leather being tanned). However, it takes about two weeks of soaking to get a deep black, so it could be quite expensive. So black clothes on a Witcher would be highly unlikely and expensive, from either a long term or a short term perspective. So monster blood being black dye was by far the most logical solution. That could even make it seem like Witchers have more money than they do, to constantly have so much black cloth and leather on them, which could make people think that they profit heavily off monsters and destruction, making them less likely to pay them reasonably. Unfortunately, from the wiki, it seemed that no monsters had black blood. Unfortunate, but that wasn't going to stop me.
I started to think that maybe vampires and necrophages would have black blood. They eat blood and rotting bodies respectively, which would require some specialized ways of dealing with the higher risk factor of that kind of diet versus the fresh, raw meat that most other monsters eat. I assumed that they might have a specialized protein or enzyme that would protect from that, which might make their blood black. The enzyme would have to be able to grab onto both cells not of the body they were created in and poisonous compounds, which sounds highly inconceivable, but maybe it would bind to and deactivate poisons and tag cells that aren't of that body for destruction? It would be very hard to explain how it can tell foreign cells from ones of that body, and I honestly don't know enough cellular biology to explain that part, but there is magic in the Witcher universe, so if it isn't possible, I'll just say it's magic.
Then, I remembered that the potion Black Blood exists, so I looked it up. The whole point of it is that it poisons your blood, so if any necrophages or vampires try to take a bite out of you, they get poisoned. The thing is, one of the main ingredients in Black Blood in the third Witcher game is four units of ghouls blood. So I started to think, maybe whatever makes their blood black, also makes them mildly poisonous to others of their kind, so they don't go after each other. The process of brewing the potion would concentrate it of course, especially with the addition of potentially poisonous mushrooms, but the base of it is in the blood. And then, I saw that Black Blood has high toxicity (in the first game, in the third game it has low toxicity, which makes no sense to me, it's literally poisoning their blood!) And I remembered that high toxicity turns Witcher's blood black. (The veins around their eyes are black, so I'm assuming that the rest of their blood is black.) I was thinking that maybe Witchers have some of that enzyme too, and when their livers are overwhelmed, that stuff starts to bind to the toxins in their blood, turning it black.
I figure that this enzyme would grab onto toxic compounds, bind to them and deactivate them, turning black in the process, making them harmless, and easy to flush out of the body by peeing. (Which would mean after going toxic, Witchers would probably pee black. I can only imagine how concerning that would be for someone to see a Witcher pee black.) Of course, with those enzymes made by their bodies already, Witchers could get black blood if they ingested enough of any common poison, but without any of the good effects of potions. These enzymes would probably be an essential part of a Witcher's immune system and poison resistance, and part of why their body can handle poisons and sicknesses so much easier than humans.
Now, in Black Blood, that concentrated amount of enzymes that attack unknown cells would in itself do some damage to monsters, but it would also quickly attack Geralt too, because he isn't the creature that made those enzymes, but it would be more effective if some of those enzymes were bound to a poison that keeps working after it was bound, possibly from the mushrooms also in the recipe. That way some of it wouldn't bind to the Witchers cells, and stay floating around in their blood for the enemy to grab a mouthful of. It would also make sure that any monster closely related enough to the monster that gave the blood in the potion to not be effected would still be hurt by it.
This would likely mean that Black Blood would take longer to subside, and be a lot more dangerous than most other potions, because the poison is already bound, so that enzyme in their own blood wouldn't bind it, so it still does damage to them as their body flushes it out. That would make the poison in those specific mushrooms a highly effective way to poison Witchers, because it can bypass a very important part of their poison resistance, so it would be incredibly important that non-Witchers don't find out.
But, if that enzyme only turns black after grabbing onto an compound not made by the body or tagging a cell for destruction, then it would make sense why vampires and necrophages don't have black blood normally, making ignoring the wiki saying that no monsters have black blood completely unnecessary. (Though maybe their blood would get darker after a meal, when it has stuff to attach to, which would make it easy for Witchers could tell how recently they had fed.) Of course, because it binds to organic materials, Witchers would only be able to collect it in glass or metal, as anything it came in contact with that was organic would easily stain black. Cotton, leather, wood, bone, even turtle shells! However, the shells of sea creatures wouldn't be effected, mostly being made of calcium carbonate.
To further this theory, I looked through the entire Witcher wiki for things related to blood, and found some interesting things. So in the games, when you kill monsters, you can loot their corpses for materials from that monster. I would assume that Witchers would only normally pick up parts that are useful for something, so I'm assuming that the parts Geralt can pick up in the games are only the important ones. Almost all the materials in all three games that are a kind of blood that you can get from monsters is from vampires or necrophages, implying that there is something about those kinds of blood that's unique and important. The only exceptions are blood from bloedzuigers in the first game, which are like leeches in that they drink blood, the same food as vampires, so they would likely have the same compound in their blood, quest items (often used in highly specific circumstances and is human blood fairly regularly) and monster blood from the third game, which can be crafted from almost any monster part, and is used to craft a wide variety of different things. Because of this, I'm taking it as purely a game mechanic, so the developers didn't have to code it so that any monster part could work for every single one of the 55 recipes that require monster blood. And yes, I counted them. So there wouldn't be anything special about the fact that it's blood, making blood from vampires and necrophages the only important and unique blood from monsters that a Witcher could use.
Another odd thing I found in the wiki is a material called Abomination lymph, which is only obtained from vampires, necrophages, and bloedzuigers. Lymph isn't blood, though it does have similarities, which only makes it a weird coincidence, but I thought it was some very interesting information.
This whole research hole was very interesting, and though I don't know enough about cellular biology to produce a theory about this that fits real world biology well, (if you have any info that connects to this I would gladly hear it) I connected a lot of interesting pieces, and have some very interesting ideas that will definitely be incorporated into my stories from now on. Hope you enjoyed!
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ukrfeminism · 3 years
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One year of lockdown: Women reveal uniquely devastating ways pandemic has ravaged their lives
From surging domestic abuse to women being more likely to lose jobs, Maya Oppenheim speaks to women across the UK on how the last year has changed their lives
A year ago this week, when the UK was catapulted headfirst into a national lockdown, few bar the occasional naysayer and epidemiologist envisaged how much their lives would be turned upside down, perhaps forever.
And it now appears clear that women have borne the brunt or the repercussions of the Covid chaos.
From soaring rates of domestic abuse to giving birth alone, there are a plethora of ways women have been hard hit by the crisis. They have also been more likely to lose jobs or be furloughed due to being over-represented in low-paid precarious jobs and sectors hit hardest by the pandemic, such as hospitality, retail, leisure, tourism and the arts.
The Independent has spoken to some of those women who have struggled as our lives have changed in ways that would have appeared inconceivable before the pandemic.
The unplanned pregnancy
The public health crisis has massively disrupted the NHS as services that provide contraception for women have been profoundly affected by Covid upheaval.
Sexual health clinics have been forced to shut or run reduced services while staff are transferred to work with Covid patients or have to self-isolate, with the disruption leaving many women unable to access their usual methods of contraception.
Many women are struggling to get the most effective long-acting contraceptive choices of a coil or an implant due to these needing in-person appointments which have largely been suspended as consultations are conducted via phone or video call to stop coronavirus spreading.
The Independent previously reported thousands of women have had abortions after falling pregnant while having difficulties accessing contraception during the pandemic.
Megan Davenport, a 22-year-old who lives in Sheffield, had to have an abortion after getting pregnant in the middle of the pandemic. Her unexpected pregnancy came amid concerns that she would be able to secure contraception during the ongoing pandemic, she said.
Ms Davenport, who studies science communications, said: “I was quite paranoid about wanting to take pressure off the NHS. I also had heard a lot of stories about contraception during lockdown.
“Friends talked about paying for pills online. I am a student, so I don’t have a lot of money. I didn’t want to pay for something I’d previously got for free. I now know you can obviously get them for free on the NHS. At the time I thought I can’t be bothered trying just in case these services aren’t up and running.
“To cut a long story short, I had an after lockdown hook up with a good friend of mine. It was one hook up and I accidentally got pregnant. I had a freak out. I got in touch with the British Pregnancy Advisory Service and they sent me abortion pills through the post.”
Ms Davenport said it was overwhelming discovering she was pregnant and then having an abortion in the middle of a pandemic, but noted the British Pregnancy Advisory Service made her feel “safe and supported”.
She added: “It felt kind of scary. A lot happened at once. The actual abortion was very painful. It was literally the worst pain of my life. It is excruciating stomach pain. Kind of like extreme period pains. It feels like a big build-up of pain which you need to release but can’t.
“I don’t want to sound unemotional, but the abortion wasn’t a traumatic thing. It just felt like any medical care really. It would have been very traumatic having to have a baby.”
She said she had heard of women struggling to get contraceptive coils fitted at the start of the coronavirus crisis due to them requiring face-to-face appointments – adding that she has currently been on the waiting list to have a coil fitted for roughly six months.
The stalking victim
In the same way, domestic abuse has soared in the lockdown, stalking has also surged The Independent recently revealed calls to the National Stalking Helpline increased by 11 per cent in the public health emergency, with the Suzy Lamplugh Trust, which runs the helpline, warning stalkers appear to have ramped up frequency and intensity.
Callers dealt with almost 18,000 calls from March 2020 until February this year, up from the just over 16,000 calls the stalking helpline received in the same period a year earlier.
“It has been three years of stalking,” Lucy*, a stalking victim whose situation has been compounded by the pandemic tells The Independent. “He vandalised my friend’s car.”
The 59-year-old, who cannot have her identity revealed to protect her safety, says her stalker was not able to vandalise her own home as she lives in a flat in a gated community with heavy CCTV presence.
Lucy, who is taking legal proceedings against her stalker, adds: “He would spend his entire time waiting at the bottom of my road and circle my place of work. I would see him several times a day.
“It’s everybody's nightmare to experience that level of malice and hostility and fixation from someone. He has got absolutely nothing in his life apart from me. Nothing apart from his rage and hatred against me.
“I saw him yesterday while I was driving. I thought with the pandemic he’d be off the streets, but every single day for the last year he’s parked in this area and walked about.
“He sent me a death threat saying he knew exactly which flat I lived in. Previously he had a routine but lockdown has certainly isolated him. But he is not capable of staying home. Legally, he can’t go out, which adds to his aggravation. He has more energy to fixate on me.”
The woman hit by financial fallout
Numerous studies have suggested the Covid crisis is on course to reverse progress on gender equality due to women being hardest hit by the financial repercussions of the pandemic as they are more likely to work in locked down sectors.
While a recent report found women are twice as likely to need time off work with no pay to look after children due to schools closing under lockdown measures, other studies have revealed women have shouldered the burden of childcare, household chores and homeschooling.
Gemma Hirst, who lost the retail job she had been in for six years in the summer, has first-hand experiences of the recession.
The 26-year-old, who lives in Northumberland, says: “I got promoted just before lockdown happened. Things were definitely going up. There was nothing to worry about until Covid.
“At first I felt okay because I was on furlough. In the summer – June or July time – there were rumours, emails and phone calls about the risk of job losses. I was offered a job at another store but it was considerably less money.
“It was a different job with a different contract so I had to take redundancy. We had a conference video call. I cried. It was rather embarrassing. I did not expect I’d be affected because I’d worked there for six years at management level.
“I went on Universal Credit. Still on it now. It is not enough money. I’m lucky I live with my family. It is not nice not earning your own keep. I did have a good couple of weeks where I felt rubbish and really low. You feel worthless.
“The fact more women than men have lost their jobs in the pandemic infuriates me, especially in 2021, we should be treated equally. The government should be doing more help to women but why would they? It doesn’t affect them. They're not bothered.”
The woman who escaped domestic abuse in lockdown
Domestic violence has surged during the Covid emergency – in May, it emerged calls to the UK’s national domestic abuse helpline had risen by 66 per cent and visits to the sister website soared by 950 per cent since the nation locked down.
A report released by MPs at the end of April last year revealed domestic abuse killings in the first 21 days of the first lockdown were double the total of an average period in the past decade. On top of this, previous research by leading domestic abuse charity Women’s Aid found one in seven victims currently enduring abuse at the hands of their partners said it had got worse in the wake of the health emergency.
Daisy* has direct experience of pre-existing patterns of domestic abuse escalating in lockdown – and said being cooped up at home with her perpetrator exacerbated an already dangerous situation.
The 30-year-old, whose name has been changed to protect her safety, said: “He perpetrated essentially any type of abuse you can imagine. Sexual, physical, mental, financial. All of it. I think it is rare for someone to be abused in only one way.
“Lockdown increased all of the issues that were already there. After lockdown, I became the only person my ex was physically around. Previously, I had been able to escape in the hours we spent away from each other; now he could always reach me.”
Daisy, who previously lived in the Midlands but escaped from her ex-partner by moving abroad last spring, said the abuse she has suffered has had a damaging impact on her mental health.
“The abuse increased the terrible self-image I already had. Gaslighting and manipulation were everyday occurrences. I believed my ex, that I was not worth anything more than what I was getting,” she said.
“I have had to work harder than I ever have in my life to overcome that belief. I think there will be issues I may always have to cope with, like PTSD, but due to some incredibly hard work in therapy and being on my own now, the coping is not as difficult. I am grateful for the life I have now, every day.”
Daisy, who was helped by Women's Aid, said she still has nightmares about her ex but less than she did before and her role in the dreams has now changed.
“Dream-me handles herself better than before,” Daisy said. “But I would not be surprised if the nightmares stayed forever”.
*Names have been changed to protect identities
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First light, last love
Summary: a lazy, fluffy morning in bed with your love, Santiago Garcia.
Author’s note: Very quick blurb in response to an ask- not my best but hope you like it! You can decide whether he means literal breakfast or “breakfast” *wink wink* at the end, depending on how you wanna be woken up.
Warnings: language, it’s Santi.
Word count: short and sweet. 
Tagging: @phoenixhalliwell​ @lostgirlheather​ @justrunamok​ @aellynera​ @damerondjarin​ @blushingwueen​ @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall​ @holybatflapexpert​ @himbopoes​ @arabellathorne​ @yourbucky084​ @mandoplease​ @mylifeliterally​ @arkofblake​ @multifandomlife22​ @yougottakeeponkeepinon​ @aisling-beatha​ @stardust-galaxies​ 
GIF by @twillight
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The morning sun is the first caress on your skin, gently easing you awake. Santi’s hands are the second, pulling you from the warm embrace of slumber and into the warm embrace of him.
As you stir, you feel the sturdiness and familiar shape of Santi’s body pressed firmly to your back as he forms a big spoon around you. You absorb the texture of bare skin on skin as his nose nuzzles into the back of your neck, and his hand languidly wanders over your belly and your thighs. His fingertips trace symbols on to your flesh, which only those fluent in the language of love might hope to ever decipher, easing your consciousness into the waking world and to a place where you feel completely safe and content and held; in his arms.
You hum softly to signal to him you’re awake, and a blissed out smile eases over your lips, the joy that comes from waking up next to your love and enjoying this closeness spilling visibly out of you.
“Morning, Princesa,” he breathes, hot air and the deep rumble of his voice fanning over your neck. Santi presses a gentle kiss to your neck, propping himself up onto his elbow to allow his kisses to journey along your jawline, and you turn your head to greet his lips with yours, giggling into the kiss.
Every time you kiss him it feels like arriving home. Each moment with him holding you feels like breaking dawn. Warm, fresh yet familiar, and an inconceivable blessing.
You peel your eyelids open, failing to quell the happy smile which beams out of you as soon as your gaze greets his, those warm, coffee eyes the only wake-up call you need.
You love waking up slow with him like this. No alarms; no place to be, except beside each other.
“Morning, handsome,” you say softly, as his broad hand comes to gently cup your cheek.
Those hands of his. You love them so. Those hands which were trained to be lethal, but which felt like they were made to love you. When they feel so good against you, what other purpose could they possibly have?
Instead of craning your neck, you swivel until you are flat on your back, Santi’s prone body still tesselated neatly into your side. He smiles back at you, his eyes skimming over your face and hair as if he is seeing you afresh with the start of the new day; even though he has looked at you so often, you sometimes question how he could possibly still wonder at the sight of you. Even when you’re like this, still shaking off the dregs of sleep, face and hair still fresh from the pillow, Santi’s eyes are glowing with adoration.
Santi runs his hand over your contours, fingertips guiding his gaze and sweeping languidly over your chest and stomach and legs. The callouses of him rub against the smoothness of your skin as he cups handfuls of your soft parts in his palms as if you are his daily bread. As if he might bring you to his lips to sustain him. After all, how could he live without you?
As you enjoy his touch, light filters intermittently through the curtains, hazy and half-cocked, ocassionally finding its aim on your face or throwing bars of gold daybreak over Santi’s chest, sun glinting off his dog tags. 
“Holy shit, baby,” Santi breathes as he studies you. “Once again you’re even more beautiful to me than yesterday, and less beautiful to me than you will be tomorrow.” Santi’s lips quirk up playfully, as his fingertips continue to wander the planes of you. He’s never lost when he’s touching you. He’s never lost, like he has been so often in dense jungle, tunred around and scared for his life. His fingers always know their path. His lips always know thier route to your lips, even in the dark. And yet, although he knows you so well, he never tires of you.
“Fuck, Santi,” you say, rubbing your eyes and adjusting to the light, feeling out your limbs and emerging gradually from the heaviness of sleep. “Just when I think you’ve run out of ways to charm me, you come out with something like that. Before you’ve even had coffee.”
You turn your body towards him and Santi lowers himself back to the pillow. You shuffle until you lie nose to nose with each other, shimmying the blankets down until they rest across your hips and tangling your thighs with the meat of his.
“I fuckin’ hope I never run out of ways to charm you, preciosa,” Santi says in earnest.
A lazy grin inches over his face, and you enjoy the creases which form around his eyes and mouth. Then, muffling his confession, Santi dips his head forward to nuzzle kisses into your neck. “Plus... alright, I confess to raiding the greeting card aisle yesterday while I was waiting for ‘Fish to checkout the beers.”
Your fingers filter into his grizzled curls as a soft chuckle shakes your chest up against him, and you absorb all the textures of him possible as his stubble grazes pleasantly along your collarbone and your breasts, soothed by lazy caresses of his lips and tongue. “That one made me think of you, cariño,” he whispers, his voice entirely earnest again as he tips his chin to look up at you from beneath his lashes and heavy brows with sincere eyes. 
You snicker softly as you nose into his curls, planting a loving kiss to the top of his head and lingering there to inhale the unique scent of him. Wrapping your arms around him more tightly, you tug him into your chest, and Santi hums contentedly, thoroughly dissolving into your embrace as you bring him closer and tangle limbs with him.
You feel so happy you might float to the ceiling, if you weren’t tethered by the blankets and by his embrace.
You both tug in a deep, steadying breath and exhale it together, enjoying nothing but the silence and the presence of each other for a few, extended moments.
“How is it-” Santi eventually begins to wonder idly as your arms encase him “-that I spend most of my time surrounded by a trained squad of killers, but I never feel safer than when you hold me like this?”
“Hmm. You didn’t get that from a Hallmark card, did you?” you tease, deflecting some of the raw emotion in his tone with humour, as it almost feels too overwhelming to handle, sometimes, Santi’s love. “That one was all you, you charmer?”
His words have a happiness blooming right from the core of you, and, you hope, suffusing back into him as you share this moment of loving each other, transmitting love back and forth through every touch and brush of lips and fingers and skin.
It is moments and mornings like this which you love the most. Not the grand gestures of love. Not the greeting card moments or the surprises or the special ocassions. The mundaness of love is everything to you. The simple, small joys with Santi are the ones you treasure the most.
“Yeah,” he jokes. “The rest said: everyone knows not to fuck with you, mi Reina, because they saw you tear Will a new one when he was a dick at our housewarming, and now cartels and drug lords cower in fear. Happy Thanksgiving.”
You laugh, a lilting sound which draws Santi’s eyes back to your lips, and you flop back on to the mattress, your arms raised above you on the pillow. Santi takes the opportunity to roll on top of you, craving even more contact. He boxes you in securely with his arms, and nudges your knees apart so he can lie in between your legs, hips pressing up against you. The weight of him against you, the feel of the solid mass of him on top of you is such a comfort, grounding you entirely when only moments ago you were lost to your dreams; still, moments like this with your love seem beyond your wildest dreams.
The chain of Santi’s dog tags jangle and pool on to your chest as he settles over you, the cool metal a pleasing contrast against your warm skin and the body heat emanating off of him. You regard them warily, ever since that time they chipped your tooth during a particularly vigorous embrace, but you have grown to love the familiar extension of him, and the reminder that although he is lethal, he is nothing but soft for you.
You follow the bobbles of the chain up and over his smooth chest, corded neck. To his face. God, he’s handsome. All over and at all times, but especially in the mornings like this, when he’s in nothing but his boxers and his watch and that chain. When his skin is bare and warm against you except for these shocks of cool metal. When he is still slightly grogged and unguarded, fresh from sleep. You love seeing his mussed mop of curls and the overnight sprouting of his stubble. Love having him all to yourself.
Santi swoops his soft lips down to kiss you again, and as he pulls back up you admire the happy glow in his heavy-lidded eyes. Admire the flexed muscles in his shoulders as he holds himself above you, and the soft curve of his belly pressing against yours. You drink him in, and you know he’s doing the same with you. 
While enjoying this moment, the like of which seems so rare these days, it suddenly strikes you how long you have gone uninterrupted.
“Santi, the house is quiet. What did you do to the boys?”
Santi grins down at you like the handsome devil he is and greedily kisses almost every inch of your face, bit by bit. “Sent the boys off to lake. Wanted you all to myself today.”
You smile broadly and gratefully at your thoughtful, adoring man. You were really enjoying the week out at the lake with the squad, but the boys could be a lot, and you did agree; you wanted Santi all to yourself for a little bit too. Ok, a lot.
“Thought we could have a lazy morning then take a picnic up to the coast? Found a good place you can do some reading while I lie in your lap and gaze longingly at you?”
You look at him adoringly and Santi takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue languidly along your lower lip, humming into the cave of your mouth as you grant him access and slowly mingle your lips and tongue with his like you have all the time in the world. 
You wind your arms lovingly around his neck, and pucker your lips to plant a delicate kiss to the tip of his strong, perfect nose. “You’re a genius, Santi. In fact, you know what? I love you more than I did yesterday, and less than I will tomorrow.”
Santi doesn’t smile at your words, despite the playful grin on your own face. He simply looks at you in wonderment again.  As if he’s seeing you fresh. Like every moment with you is a breaking dawn. “Fuck, Princesa. Who’s the charmer now?” Santi looks at you as though he’s the luckiest man in the world, and that never fails to floor you.
Yes, these were without doubt your favourite kind of mornings. You treasure these small moments together, where you have all the time in the world to adore each other. And you did; you do. You adore each other more and more every single day.
Sometimes, perhaps, waking is a sweeter dream than slumber, when your love makes every moment like a new day. Makes each feeling cheesy enough to write in a greeting card.
You smile conspiratorially, fluttering your eyelashes at Santi. Pushing your luck, even though you’re already the luckiest woman in the world. “Have I charmed you enough for you to make breakfast, my love?”
“Breakfast, mi Reina?” Santi purrs, pumping his eyebrows. “You just lie back and I’ll take care of breakfast. I’ll take care of you, ‘cause, fuck, do I love you too.”
Yes, this is it. This is definitely what dreams are made of.
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reinerispretty · 3 years
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rotations. bonus! y/n is in labor
 Hey hun. So sorry for asking for a rotations thing bc idk if you still wanna do those. Anyways y’n going into labor with her first child and Zuko loosing his shit bc we all know he would. And the rest of the gaang having to wait with a literally insane Zuko while they just hear y/n screaming in the distance birthing a child. Thanks
happy weekend everyone :) i thought it would be fun to do a rotations request!! tysm for requesting ily <3 
(Y/N) laughed, but as she tossed her head back she felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She leaned forward, cradling her bump as she hissed in a breath of pain. Katara grabbed her arm. “(Y/N), are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just um, a cramp or something.” (Y/N) gave her friend a reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay.”
“I thought you were impulsive when we were kids,” Katara said as she walked by (Y/N’s) side. “But flying halfway across the world in the middle of night while pregnant just to have me make you sea prunes really takes the cake.” 
(Y/N) hummed as she waddled, using chopsticks to shove sea prunes into her mouth. Her distaste for them had been clear for years, but she had woken up last night with an insufferable craving. She could have ordered the servants to whip up the traditional Water Tribe dish, but she was craving both Katara’s cooking and her companionship. 
“I’m the Fire Queen,” (Y/N) said. “I’ve gotta give the people something to gossip about.” Katara laughed and rolled her eyes. 
“You’re just lucky I was still here. We’ve been traveling so much lately.” (Y/N) had taken a stab in the dark by flying to Republic City. Katara’s last letter, dated almost three weeks ago, had said that she and Aang would be traveling there to see to some building projects. He, Zuko, and Sokka had been taking turns overseeing the development of the cultural epicenter of the four nations. It was coming together rather nicely. A few housing developments had been erected here and there, and the city hall was nearly finished. 
(Y/N) stopped as they walked down the sidewalk to inhale a few deep breaths. Constantly carrying a child in her stomach had proven to get more challenging as the pregnancy continued. Katara looked at her with a worried frown. “You shouldn’t be traveling so close to your due date.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes. 
“You sound like Zuko.” (Y/N) had been traveling all over the world lately. When she woke up with a craving, she sought to satisfy it. Since reaching the ninth month of her pregnancy, her doctors and Zuko had urged her to relax her duties as queen for the time being. 
“Maybe he can be right sometimes.” (Y/N) gave her friend an exaggerated gasp. 
“Blasphemy!” Katara giggled, taking (Y/N) by the arm as they continued their walk to the center of the city. Aang stood in front of city hall with his hands on his hips as the construction workers did their jobs. Katara called out to him and he turned around, a wide smile on his face. 
“(Y/N)!” Aang cheered, walking over to them to give her a big hug. “What are you doing here? You look great! Are those sea prunes?” 
“I had a craving,” (Y/N) said with a shrug, eating another prune. Aang’s face contorted in amused disgust. 
“She took an air balloon and left the Fire Nation in the middle of the night.” Aang shook his head. 
“(Y/N)-”
“No one can scold me!” (Y/N) insisted. “I’m pregnant, I’m pulling the pregnancy card.” 
“How about we fly Appa back to the Fire Nation? It’ll be nice to see Zuko,” Aang’s smile was bright and hopeful.
“That would be amazing! We haven’t had visitors in so long.” She looked to Katara. “You’ll come right?” Katara had been so busy these past few months. Between traveling with Aang and building up her own tribe, she and (Y/N) hadn’t spent proper time together in ages. 
“Of course.” 
Getting on Appa’s saddle with large belly had proved to be almost impossible, but with a little of Aang’s airbending, (Y/N) was able to roll onto the sky bison. “I’ve missed Appa so much,” (Y/N) sighed as she tilted her head back. It was nice, to feel the wind on her face and blow back her hair. Being on Appa, she felt young again. 
“I’ve missed you so much,” Katara said, nudging (Y/N) with her elbow. She smiled. 
“I’ve missed you too!” Aang called back. “In case anyone’s wondering about me.” 
(Y/N) laughed, but as she tossed her head back she felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She leaned forward, cradling her bump as she hissed in a breath of pain. Katara grabbed her arm. “(Y/N), are you alright?” 
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just um, a cramp or something.” (Y/N) gave her friend a reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay.” 
But minutes later, the feeling returned, lasting for a much longer amount of time. Katara stared down at (Y/N) in shock. “I think you’re going into labor!” 
“That’s ridiculous,” (Y/N) muttered. 
“Is it? You’re practically about to burst.” 
“You said I looked great for being nine months pregnant!” 
“You do! But your baby’s coming, whether or not you’d like it.” Katara turned to her husband. “Aang! Is there any way we can land Appa?” 
“We’re over open water, there isn’t anywhere to land!” 
“Alright, then we’re going to have to go faster! The baby’s coming.” 
And (Y/N) had never seen Aang become so serious and determined, not even when he was about to fight the old Fire Lord. 
Aang and Appa had managed to cut the travel time by nearly half. The poor sky bison was panting by the time they landed in the courtyard of the Fire Nation Palace, but even as her contractions were occurring, (Y/N) was shouting at servants to get him hay and water. Aang was attempting to airbend (Y/N) off of Appa when Zuko arrived. 
“What’s going on?” He demanded, a light smile on his face. “I arrive in the morning to find my wife missing and then walk out here to find the Avatar practicing his airbending on her?” Katara hopped to the ground, her face grave. 
“She’s going into labor. Where are your doctors?” 
The smile instantly faded from Zuko’s face. “I-I sent them into town if the citizens needed anything. Should I send for them?” Katara sighed. 
“There’s not enough time. Have the servants bring hot water and towels into one of the guest bedrooms.” 
“The guest bedrooms? But the master bedroom is bigger.” 
“Do you want blood all over your sheets?” Katara questioned. Zuko was too stunned to answer. “That’s what I thought.” 
Aang helped (Y/N) land on her feet, but she cried out and doubled over as another contraction formed. Zuko rushed to her side and lifted her into his arms. “I can’t believe you, (Y/N)! You’re so--so--” 
“Insufferable?” She asked, grinning sleeping up at him. Sweat beaded on her brow, but she still lifted her hand to pat his cheek. Zuko shook his head, but a smile still crinkled at the edges of his lips. 
Servants were ordered around as Zuko set laid (Y/N) into bed. Katara immediately went to work. (Y/N’s) contractions were becoming increasingly more painful as she lay in bed. Zuko flinched as he heard his wife shout. He and Aang hung toward the back of the room, watching Katara. She whirled around on them. 
“If you’re going to stay, you’re going to help. Otherwise, stand outside.” Aang ducked out immediately, giving Zuko a quick pat on the back. The Fire Lord had a decision to make. 
“I’ll stay,” He decided, but his voice was shaky. (Y/N) smiled at him from her position on the bed. 
“Alright, grab some towels.” 
The birth of their child was proving to be more difficult than (Y/N) had expected. The pain that tore through her body was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head, laying back on the pillows and sobbing. “I can’t do it, it’s too much!” 
“You can, (Y/N), you can do this.” And while she loved Zuko very much, he had never been very good with words. She sobbed again. 
“What if I won’t be a good mom? I can’t do it! I don’t want to do it!” Katara came round to the side of the bed and took (Y/N’s) hand. 
“You are the strongest person I know. You are brave, kind, and inconceivably wonderful. You will be an amazing mother, (Y/N). I don’t have any doubts about it.” 
“You’re just saying that because you’re my friend,” (Y/N) said as she calmed down. 
“We’re not friends, we’re family. And I would never lie to you.” She stroked (Y/N’s) sweaty hair. “You are more than capable of doing this.” 
(Y/N) looked up at Katara and saw the honesty in her eyes. Silently, she nodded, and Katara moved back down to the bottom of the bed. “Alright, now push!” 
And in just three more pushes, a beautiful, healthy baby girl was born. The room was filled with her wails and (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. She had done it. She and Zuko were parents. 
Katara cleaned up the child to the best of her ability and handed her to (Y/N). She took the baby in her arms and cradled her close to her chest, smiling up at Zuko as she beamed down at her. He kissed his wife and then kissed the baby girl’s head ever so gently. 
Katara stepped out of the room to give them a moment of privacy and met an eager-looking Aang waiting in the hallway. “How is she?” He asked. Katara smiled. 
“She’s great. They have a healthy baby girl.” Aang grinned and took Katara into his arms to hug her.
She and Aang reentered the room to find Zuko and (Y/N) still cooing at their baby girl. “She’s beautiful!” Aang breathed as he rushed over to (Y/N’s) bedside. 
“She looks just like Zuko, I think,” (Y/N) said. Zuko shook his head. 
“No way, she’s way too pretty. She looks just like you.” 
“Have you decided on a name?” Katara asked as she joined Aang’s side. (Y/N) nodded. 
“We both decided to name her Izumi,” (Y/N) said, and Katara inhaled a sharp breath and her eyes glistened with tears. “It means spring of water.” 
---
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bffsoobin · 4 years
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Windflower
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↳ after a heartbreak you find yourself in a small town looking for purpose. you find employment with Choi Soobin and his impressive ancestral home. when you start to fall in love again, there’s no way for you to predict what you find in the depths of the home and Soobin’s mind.
➤ hanahaki au, angst, slight fluff, dark themes
Word Count:6,881
Warnings: swearing, descriptions of sickness and feeling generally unwell, mentions of doctors/medical treatments, deception, descriptions of anxiety/panic, horror, pain, major character death, general dark themes! Please proceed with caution if you’re sensitive! (also I did not proof read)
A/N:excuse my language; but holy fuck. I cannot believe this is the end of Windflower. This is insane. Windflower is my passion project, and the desire to write it is half the reason I opened my account on here. While it hasn’t been the most popular writing on my blog, I have been really really proud of it. Thank you to everyone who has been reading and supporting this since the beginning! I love you all!
•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•
Soobin sat with his head dipped toward the dark wooden dining table. He was scrolling through what appeared to be a website for a plant nursery; as if he needed more within the home. You were sitting opposite of him, peeking over the top of your laptop where you were pretending to read an article on the ten best shows coming to Netflix this fall. Following the night of your drunken rage, the two of you had patched up your relationship as well as you possibly could. You’d traded apologies, talked it out over a store-bought cheesecake and moved on. 
At least, you assumed he had. He acted as if you hadn’t accused him of being some type of fraud and proclaimed that you could no longer trust him. Everything was eerily the same, despite Soobin’s increased caution around you in certain settings. Gone were the days of him laying a hand on your back as you cooked or resting his head on your shoulder while you both dozed off on the couch. 
You should have been grateful for his physical distance. Happy that he was giving you the room you had hinted at needing on that night a few weeks ago. Instead you were annoyed. Frustrated at the way you craved to feel his comforting touch even though you knew it would only bring you more pain in the end. For a while, you worried that his avoidance meant he had seen the evidence of your stupidity floating within the toilet bowl, but you knew Soobin well enough to know that he would have talked to you about it. Right? He would have brought it up; although slowly and with extreme caution, and asked you what he could do to help. He had proven himself to be mature and thoughtful, even after you’d tried to push him away. 
He finally stirred in his seat across the table. You could actually hear a few of his bones crack with the movement and you stifled a laugh. 
“What’s so funny?” He tried to sound intimidating, but his voice was so inherently soft around the edges that you couldn’t hold back the laugh. 
“You’re just an old man,” you were poking at him, you knew, but it felt good. You felt normal. Almost like you were back to the time when the two of you were truly just friends. He planted both of his large, vascular hands flat on the table and leaned his weight forward. 
“I’m an old man? You do know we’re the same age, Y/N. So if I’m so old...” he paused for dramatic affect as you stared up at him in amused awe. “Then you must be ancient.”
An offended gasp, obviously feigned, slipped between your lips; which you now noticed you’d chewed raw as you were thinking earlier. 
“How dare you? I am the epitome of youth! My hair is flowing, my skin is flawless,” you pointed to a blemish on your chin you knew for a fact you’d had for days. “My youthful beauty is unmatched, can’t you tell?” You weren’t sure where your sudden good mood had come from but you basked in it. Even as Soobin used his hands as leverage to lean closer to your face, you didn’t budge. You couldn’t. This close up, you could spot every single little freckle on his face. The dynamic shades of his irises became more and more distinct until he finally stopped advancing toward you. It was easily the closest the two of you had been in weeks. 
“Hm, you’re right. I can tell. There’s something about you...” he squinted his eyes as if he were scrutinizing your every feature. “You are beautiful, Y/N.” 
The sentence brought an unwanted visceral reaction through your body. It was too much like a confession, too close to the exact words you needed to hear from him. A shooting pain rippled through your heart. You shuddered out an exhale, shutting your eyes tight as if that would stave away the pain. In a blind panic, you pushed away from the solid table and made to put as much distance between yourself and Soobin as possible. Then your migraine hit, the feeling like someone had stuck a red hot iron rod behind both of your eyes. Fuck. On top of that pain, a cough worked its way up your throat, producing a petal into your mouth that was slimy and bitter.
You only made it two and a half steps before your knees gave out, sending you hurtling toward the floor in a free fall. Sticking your hands out just before the impact, you accepted the fact that you were about to get a concussion out of your own inability to properly distance yourself from an unrequited love. But the sensitive skin of your face never bounced off of the original hardwood flooring you had once drooled over. 
“Y/N?” Soobin was panicked, stooped down  next to you as he had managed to barely break your fall and turn you around to lay on your back. Your vision was still swimming, but you cracked open your eyes very slowly. 
‘What’s wrong? Do you need to go to a doctor?” 
“No,” you croaked out, “was just a migraine.” Soobin scoffed. 
“I’ve never seen anyone nearly pass out from just a migraine, Y/N. And in all the months I’ve known you, you’ve never-”
“I’m fine.” You asserted, sitting up as well as you could with his arms wrapped protectively around your shoulders. “They used to happen the last time I- uh, when I was in college. It’s okay, they’ll pass.” You were lying right through your teeth. The last time you had a migraine this badly, your then roommate had rushed you to the emergency room and discovered that you had hanahaki. There was no doubt that history was repeating itself. 
 “Okay.” He was frowning, obviously unconvinced as he pushed a hand against your lower back. “At least let me help you upstairs.” 
----
The migraine either dissipates or you simply become accustomed to it. The petal you had coughed into a tissue when you first reached your room had dried, sitting on your bedside table in its perfect little form to mock you. You were so disgusted that you couldn’t even bring yourself to throw it away. No longer sensitive to light, you shrugged out from underneath your sheets and stretched your limbs until they cracked. A dull thumping was still present at the base of your skull; a reminder of what you’d just suffered. A sickly feeling of anxiety passed through you like a breeze, making the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention. Soobin was clearly not convinced by your insistence that your sudden ailment was nothing of concern. And he was right. In all the time you’d been around him, you never once experienced a spell quite like that, so how was he supposed to not be suspicious?
Although, you had to hold onto hope that he truly didn’t know any better. It seemed as though he was blissfully ignorant to the truth behind your sickness, and you’d like to keep it that way. For as long as you possibly could, anyway. 
You hadn’t even noticed that you were pacing across the floor until you landed your weight onto a particularly squeaky board that sounded ridiculous in the otherwise quiet room. Freezing on the spot, you held your breath for some reason you truly couldn’t explain. Of course, there was no logical reason to do so, and the action only resulted in your lungs contracting violently. Your upper body shuddered as you opened your mouth instantly. Holding your breath for just a few seconds should have been a simple task, but to your weakened heart and lungs it felt like running a whole marathon uphill. 
Buckling over, you heaved in mouthfuls of oxygen until your heart rate dropped back down to a normal rate. Add shortness of breath to your growing list of signs that should send you running for the nearest clinic. If you weren’t so foolishly attached to the man who was probably worrying about you downstairs, you would have already been booking yourself an appointment. 
It just seemed totally inconceivable, even in your predicament, to leave Soobin behind within his ancestral house that surely felt horridly empty being lived in alone. You would sooner walk over lava barefoot than put him through that. It was stupid. So incredibly stupid, but you were literally willing to put your life on the line just to look after Soobin. He had really weaseled himself deep into your psyche. But you knew you were to blame for holding the door wide open. He had done so much for you, surely you could do him to kindness of sticking around as long as you possibly could.
So you trudged down the steps like you did every day, expecting to come face to face with an overly worried and doting young man standing in the kitchen or living room awaiting your arrival. But the lower level of the house was oddly silent when you descended the steps. The low hum of the washer and dryer running were the only indications that someone beside yourself was even there. Curiosity spiking, you made your way to the vacant living room to peer out of the windows. It was a bit hard to see him from this angle, but you spotted Soobin lounging on the back deck, skin browning in the sun and eyes closed in content. His arms were tucked behind his head, effectively lengthening his torso and giving you a full view of the sliver of skin that was peeking out between the top of his waistband and the bottom of the white cotton t-shirt  You noticed that he was once again wearing the outfit he was donning when you first arrived at the front gate weeks ago. Although the outfit was simple and generally unremarkable, you would never forget the way your heart lurched at the sight of his lithe body the first time. The warm pull of nostalgia nagged at the back of your mind, so you selfishly let yourself sink into its embrace and recall the trepidation you had once approached the grounds with. 
Soobin had charmed you so easily with his windswept hair and boyish charm that it was a shock you didn’t begin to grow flowers for him the first time you met. To be fair, the version of you who had rolled into town almost two months prior was much more cautious than the version you were now familiar with. Part of you missed that version of you; who was simply drifting through life, unattached to anyone and looking for a new spot to plant her roots. But you knew you weren’t built to live like that, as your attachment to Soobin had proven wholeheartedly. 
Suddenly, you felt a lurching in your chest that didn’t necessarily hurt you; but urged you to go outside and talk to Soobin. A subconscious pull that reminded you that your body craved his attention just as much as your mind did. The weather was beautiful today, a pleasant temperature that made your skin feel like it was glowing as soon as you were under the sun. As soon as you stepped onto the porch, Soobin whipped his head around in your direction. Cutely, he scrambled to sit up, hair frizzy from the static of the Adirondack chair he had been lounging on. 
“Are you feeling better?” A warm hand encased the left side of your face, Soobin’s sloped nose just inches away from yours as his speckled eyes studied every single pore and line on your face. 
“Uh- I’m-” his proximity was making your jittery, heart rate spiking as you tried to collect your thoughts. “I feel better. The migraine is gone.” You ignored the way the same dull ache from earlier was beginning to seep into the edges of your brain. 
“Oh, good!” A rush of his breath blew over your sensitive skin, sending your eyelids into a flutter. When he removed his hand, you felt oddly cold and empty despite the heat of the atmosphere. “Look, I don’t want you to do any work around the house until you’re feeling better. And I can call my doctor to get you in for a-”
“No!” The word jumped off of your tongue before you could reign it in; rudely cutting Soobin off as his eyes widened in shock. He shifted his weight as his eyebrows knit together in worry. You licked your lips- suddenly dry- and tried to collect the thoughts that were running laps in your mind. How could you possibly explain that going to the doctor would be a grave mistake and mark the end of your companionship. 
“You don’t want to go to the doctor? I promise he’s really nice, Y/N, and he can get you medicine for your migraines.” His perfect lips were pulled into a worried pout, a thin sheen of sweat glazing his skin only exemplifying his perfect complexion. 
“No, it’s just that...when I had them before they ran a bunch of tests,” you were hedging the truth and you knew it, but hopefully Soobin couldn’t tell the difference, “and there was nothing they could give me to help them. So a doctor would just be, ya know, a waste of time.” The skin on the back of your neck was heated in worry as you shot Soobin what you hoped was a convincing grin. 
“Okay.” He was still frowning but he seemed to believe you. “Just please let me know if you want to go. I don’t want you to be miserable. And you’re still not doing any yard work,” he grasped your bicep and led you over to the chair he had just been lying in. His grip was strong as he gave you no choice but to sit down and relax. The plastic was heated from the sunshine and the heat of his body as you settled in and looked up at him, blinking slowly. 
“I’m not gonna break, Soobin. I can handle watering the plants and doing some cleaning inside. You are not going to wait on me hand and foot.” You put some fire in your tone, hoping to edge away the anxiety you were feeling creep up the back of your throat. Having the exact person who sent your body on a fight against itself watching over you like a mother cat watches its kittens would surely put you six feet under. 
Soobin’s eyes steeled as he crossed his arms over his broad, defined chest. “No, Y/N. I am going to wait on you, because you’ve spent so much time waiting on me, and you deserve to have someone take care of you. Please let me take care of you, bub.” You were speechless at the strength of his voice coupled with the nickname he had only used in a teasing manner prior to this moment. The longer you stared at the toned muscle of his arms crossed over the widest part of his torso, the more your throat began to tickle with the insistence of soft, red petals that were looking for an escape. Panicked, you looked away quickly, coughing as softly as you can to hopefully pass the action off as simply swallowing down the wrong pipe. Just when you think the moment has passed, an unwavering push at the back of your throat had you involuntarily gagging. Soobin sprung into action, patting a large hand between your shoulder blades as if he were burping an infant. He was calling your name, pulling some strands of your hair away from your face in a bid to get your attention; but you ignored him. Your stomach rolled, the pressure in your lungs and heart only increasing at his touch that you tried to shrug off. 
Eventually the muscles of your esophagus stopped constricting and fresh oxygen could flow back into your crowded lungs. Hot tears slipped down your cheeks and you wiped at them in embarrassment, hiding your face from Soobin’s intensified gaze. You could only imagine what he was thinking right now; as you’d just went from insisting you had no need for a doctor to dry heaving over the side of his deck furniture. The thought had you shrinking into yourself even more. He was going to catch on eventually, wasn’t he? Fuck. You couldn’t avoid this much longer. The evidence of your disease was only mounting and Soobin was more observant than ever before. 
“Y/N.” The call of your name brought you, slowly, out of your own mind. “Look at me.” The words could not have been any clearer, yet you shook your head like a petulant child. He sighed. “Please, I’m worried about you. Please let me take care of you. I can’t,” he stopped and you could hear him swallow clearly. Was that a sniffle? Your heart clenched in response. “I can’t sit here and watch you hurt.” 
Still ashamed, you raised your head from your hands and stared out over the yard instead of facing him. You didn’t think your stuttering heart would survive seeing his expression in this supercharged moment. You’d sooner drop dead than see Soobin crying over you.
“Okay,” you acquiesced, mind already running in the direction of a backup plan, “I’m sorry, Soobin. You’re right. I do need you to look after me. Just please.” you swallowed, tasting the oddly earthy tang of flower petals on your tongue. “No doctors. You have to promise me.” Finally turning your body to face his, your earlier suspicions were confirmed. 
Your heart constricted painfully at the sight of him, eyes rimmed red and watery with unshed tears and a line of worry creasing the soft skin of his forehead harshly. “Fine.” He huffed, clearly displeased with your stipulation but willing to make the sacrifice. 
“Thank you,” the words were whispered, caught in a sudden gust of wind, but he heard them nonetheless and sent you a small nod. 
“Of course.”
----
Soft sunlight filtered through the flowy white curtains hanging over the windows of the library. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t spent much time in this little haven since you moved in. Soobin’s cousin had filled it with plush armchairs laden with soft fleece blankets and the most comfortable throw pillows you’d ever felt. The books were certainly outdated, but you found some classics that satisfied the itch for escape you had begun to cultivate. Currently, you were flipping through a vintage illustrated coffee table book- the front page tells you it was made in 1962- that gave diagrams and names of all types of flowers. You shouldn’t have been surprised to find this type of literature here, as Soobin himself had admitted to learning the meanings of flowers in his free time. 
The pages were delicate, so you flipped them carefully, fingers tracing over the edges that felt like they might melt between the oil of your skin. As you turned onto a new page a brightly colored sticky note, not unlike the ones you used to mark up textbooks, drew your attention toward the flower it was attached to. You recognized the flower as jasmine immediately, familiar with the patch of it that weaved among its neighbors in the garden. Brushing the sticky note aside, you read the delicate cursive underneath it: eternal and unconditional love. Cute. The image of a younger Soobin thumbing through the book, tongue pushed out in concentration as he researched warmed your heart. 
A tremor of weakness passed through your arm, making your hand shake. A feeling of dread- which you desperately tried to push down- reminded you of just how much worse your condition had become. You had noticed it lately, the way you felt much more faint than normal, how much more often you had to take a moment to catch your breath, the way your whole body would shake when you cough up a mix of blood and petals into the sink. 
But for now, you chose to lose yourself in this book and the newfound hunt for Soobin’s sticky notes of interest. You had to skip a few pages before you found the next ones; two bundled together in the upper left corner of the page marked off forget-me-nots and begonias. Gently lifting the sticky notes revealed the meanings behind these flowers, also featured in the backyard, to be true love and deep compassion and communication or connection, respectively. Curiosity mounting, you continued to flip through the weighty book. At first, you began to think that maybe the three notes you’d already found were all that lived within the forgotten book. As you neared the end, your eyes caught on two more, this time on opposite ends of the page. One partially covered an illustration of a snapdragon, the other highlighting the small flowers of a buttercup. Your nails caught on the edge of the blue paper as you lifted it. Buttercups: neatness and innocence. The definition made sense, calling back to memory the way your former best friend had coughed up a handful of the pale yellow flowers when you were just children. She was easily the most pure and innocent person you’d ever met, and given the matching nature of the boy who’d also been secretly pining over her; you couldn’t think of a more perfect example of the type of flower representing the relationship. 
You wondered if Soobin had chosen and planted these flowers with the image of the relationships they’re indicative of in mind. The snapdragon’s description was totally covered by the sticky note; so you nearly had to pry the whole thing off before you could see the cursive. Deception. The word stared back at you. It seemed very out of place among the other markings that Soobin had made. You knew for a fact that a tall, thick patch of snapdragons were growing proudly in the garden, among all the other flowers with soft, beautiful meanings. Interesting. You would consider the fact that Soobin was only drawn to their aesthetics, but the way the drawing was marked with the same enthusiasm as the others was certainly curious. 
You decided that you were thinking way too far into this. For all you knew, the snapdragons were simply planted by someone in his family and he had gone looking for their meaning. Nearing the end of the book, you were simply skimming over the book. Your eyes were starting to get tired, fatigue dancing under your skin as you considered taking a nap right there. On the final, yellowed page of the flower identification book, you spotted something alarmingly familiar. A red flower whose petals fade into a pure white near the stem. The exact same petals that had been crawling up your throat and ruining the little bit of safety you’d found within Soobin’s home. 
Suddenly on high alert, you sat up straight, eyes watering as you finally focused enough to comprehend the definition. The red windflower. Death and forsaken love. Your throat went completely dry, heart dropping down to your stomach. The petals pushed against the soft flesh of the inside of your throat, scratching at the back of your tongue as a harsh reinforcement of what you were reading. Death? Surely you had joked with yourself that you felt as if you were dying, but was that not just because you hadn’t seen a doctor? 
A new gagging cough slipped past your lips, consuming your senses totally as you focused on not spewing a mix of blood, spit and flower petals onto the surely expensive leather chair. Finally, you collapsed back in the chair, chest heaving, book laid open on your lap. Fresh tears brimmed your eyes. You needed to leave. As much as you desired to stay around Soobin and bask in his company, you were becoming increasingly worried for your life. You had to find a way to get him out of the house long enough for you to pack up the essentials and flee the house. It would hurt. It would hurt so bad, but nothing could be worse than the message of doom that your body was giving you. Loving Soobin would literally put you in an early grave. 
“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” Soobin’s voice came cautiously from somewhere behind you and you jumped, clasping the book shut quickly. 
“I’m-” you tried, voice too wrecked from coughing to continue. You cleared your throat, ignoring the painful pinch that created and tried again. “I’m okay. But I was wondering if you’d do me a favor?” Thinking on your feet had your head spinning, and you hoped he couldn’t sense the waver in your voice as you spoke. 
He approached slowly, sitting himself on an armchair opposite of you. The knees of his jeans were stained brown with dirt, a sight not uncommon after his time in the garden. He pushed a hand through his mussed up hair. It was a nervous tick, you knew, and you felt awful for worrying him. Maybe it was better if you left after all. 
“Could you go out to Hank’s and get me a Smore’s sundae? I would drive myself but...” a vague gesture over your generally unwell body made the point clear. “I know it’s pretty far out of town but I’ve been craving one since the first time we went.” 
“Of course. I’m done outside, I can go. Are you sure you’ll be okay alone? I’ll be out for probably like 40 minutes to get all the way there and back.”
“Yes, Soobin. I can still handle myself alone. I’m not that sick.” The irony of the statement was not lost on you, but it seemed to have placated him enough for him to slip on his shoes and leave the house. As soon as he was gone, you threw yourself off of the chair. Your heart rate had been in a constant state of increase for weeks, but you just had to just push through it for now. 
In a flurry of packing that was all too familiar to the way you left your college apartment,  you began to gather your things. You felt a twinge of guilt for leaving behind some of your things for Soobin to contend with, but you had to push it aside in favor of working quickly. All of your personal items, chargers, enough clothing for two weeks, toiletries and any money you’d brought along with you were stuffed into your trusty tote bag. You took one last sweeping look around the room, anxiety licking at the back of your neck as you feared you were running out of time. Many of your dressers were still full and you had left the bed a mess but your most important items were tucked underneath your arm securely; and that was enough for you. 
As you descended the stairs, you tried to ignore the way you wobbled dangerously down them until you finally got to the bottom level of the house. A bittersweet feeling rose in your chest as you surveyed the kitchen where you’d cooked and baked so many times. The living room beckoned you with similar memories of taking naps in the sunshine and watching your favorite films. A stray tear you didn’t know was welling up made a hot streak down your face before dripping off of your skin. No matter how much it hurt, you had to keep moving. The floor creaked familiarly under your feet as you approached the front door. The handle was cold under your fingers as you twisted, but the satisfying creak and rush of fresh air that you were expecting never came. You tried again, but the door didn’t budge. Locked. Okay, that made sense. Neither of you really used the front door, so of course it was locked up. Leaning down to inspect the doorknob, you realized that the age of the home meant that you would need a skeleton key to slip into the door and crack it open. 
Slightly annoyed, you took a deep, steadying breath and headed for the backdoor. You would have to walk further to get to your car; but the back door should be unlocked, considering Soobin had just left out of it. With more fervor, you gripped the door knob and twisted, just to be met with the same resistance the front door gave. A flash of hot panic consumed you as you jiggled the handle again, just in case it would make any difference. Soobin must have locked it out of habit when he left, and you knew for a fact that he had the only key-as far as you knew- with him out at Hank’s. Blindly, you grabbed for your cellphone before realizing how useless that would truly be. No one knew you were here. You didn’t have any other friends in town, and it’s not like you could call the police to come help you without Soobin finding out. Sweaty palms made your phone nearly slip from your grip as your mind worked in overdrive. 
“Okay.” you whispered to yourself, “where would he keep spare keys?” Rifling through a mental list of all the nooks and crannies of the home, a sudden realization hit you. That room upstairs where you had hit your head! That would explain why the room seemed oddly clean, and it was feasible to believe that what you mistook for an AC unit was actually a safe of some kind. Back up the steps you went, heart thumping in a rhythm that was surely unhealthy for someone as young as yourself. 
When you finally got to the room, you found the mismatched furniture exactly where you left it. Soobin had clearly made no effort to move back the dresser or the table that you’d begun to slide out of the way; only making your mission so much easier. 
For the first time today, you had luck when you pulled at the handle of something. Up close, you seemed to be clearly looking at some kind of built in storage compartment, made of a light metal and easily accessed by a small pull lever. Your fingers slipped as you swung the door open, excitement rising at the prospect of being correct about the keeping place of the keys. 
As fast as the excitement and relief had risen, they were quelled and buried deep underneath a wash of confusion. Within the confines of the compartment, you were faced with... flowers. In the middle, acting as some sort of centerpiece, was a pressed snapdragon stem. An entire cluster of flowers, attached firmly to a greened stem was propped up on a small stand; shrink wrapped in protective plastic. Something about the sight was oddly familiar. The stem was cut so perfectly across, completely unlike the way a garden sheer or someone breaking off the plant would present. A memory surfaced to the top of your mind, recalling the first time you’d had your flowers removed. It was cut in the exact same manner; with the precision only a surgical tool could make. Although you’d tried to bury the whole process in a dusty corner of your mind, you did remember your doctor offering the option to take the removed flower home. It had appalled and confused you, but it was clear that that was the source of this exact flower. 
“What the fuck?” you whispered, catching sight of an almost unrecognizable sharpie scribbled on the corner. CS. Initials? Oh god. CS. Choi Soobin. Your hand recoiled as if you’d been burned, the feeling of bile raising toward your tongue. He had told you that he never grew flowers, so what the hell was this? Why would he keep this a secret? Hurt and panic joined hands and wreaked havoc on your nervous system. You could barely think straight. Was this his...trophy case? 
When you shifted on your feet, you spotted a small envelope resting behind the stand. A sick feeling of curiosity had you reaching for it. At this point, you had no idea what to expect as your fingers stick to the material thanks to the sweat permeating your body. It takes a few tries, but once you finally get the envelope slipped open, you can’t tell what you’re looking at. The lighting was too awkward, so you dumped the contents out onto the surface of the compartment. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see; but it certainly wasn’t this. Dozens of flower petals, dried and shrink wrapped in the same fashion as the haunting centerpiece spilled out in front of you. The smooth metal surface sent them all skidding, so it took you a second to get the whole picture. The first one to catch your eye was a white, pointed petal that you could easily identify as jasmine with the same handwritten pair of letters on one corner. YJ. Another protected petal, this one the tell tale purple-blue of a forget me not bore the letters SA. In fact, you could match every single one of these petals to a flower you had been fawning over in the garden since your arrival. 
One that had scattered toward the back of the case seemed to compel you even though you couldn’t quite see it. You reached for it blindly, bringing a few, clearly much older flowers forward with it. Sifting through them only struck more and more fear into you. Every instinct you had was telling you to run, scream, pound on a window until you could bust out. Soobin was clearly not all he had claimed to be. But a dark, twisted side of yourself you didn’t know existed wanted to sift through all of the petals and match them up with the garden you’d cared for. Resting at the bottom of the pile in your hand, you finally came across the petal you’d initially reached for. 
It was about the size of a penny; red, fading into a simple white at the bottom. This was it. This was the exact petal that you’d spit out onto your bedside table after your first awful migraine. Now that you thought about it, you never did throw it out. You were too disgusted to even face the flora that haunted you. 
Your heart stopped. The sharpie on this flower was smudged, as if he had been in too much of a hurry to let it dry. Your initials were there, clear as day. He had collected your flower for his sick collection. He had collected...you. 
The little happy world you had built yourself came crashing down like a ton of bricks. If he had done this to you, then surely all of these other petals came from others who had come to work and live with him. You recalled an early discussion about family tradition as you thumbed over a group of much more withered looking flowers. 
This was the family tradition. 
Alarms blared in your mind. Get out, your mind urged faster than your feet could move. Tripping over yourself, you hoped that Soobin wasn’t home yet, as you had no idea how to get out of the home. Your feet pounded noisily on the hardwood but that was the very least of your worries. Skidding into the kitchen, your blood ran cold.
Soobin. 
“Hey,” his voice was smooth, unwavering as he leaned against the sink nursing a bottle of water. On the island there was a brown paper bag with Hank’s logo printed on the front. “There’s your ice cream.” 
You didn’t know what to do. Clearly, you had been caught red handed with a tote bag in hand and anxious sweat rolling down your face. 
“Oh, uh. Thanks.” The room sat creepily still as Soobin’s eyes, devoid of any clear emotion, roved over you. He quirked an eyebrow as he pushed himself off of the counter. You couldn’t move, even as he stalked closer. 
“What happened to you resting? You’re sick.” He had asked a question but it seemed clear we really wasn’t looking for an answer. 
“I just-” your words turned into a gasp as Soobin gripped your shoulder so hard that it hurt. Gone were the usually careful caresses of his fingers as he pushed you backwards. With your body already weak it only took one wrong step for you to be sent flying toward the floor. On instinct, you tried to grab onto Soobin’s solid body for support, but he stepped back and watched you fall, bouncing the back of your head off of the floor hard enough to go limp. Consciousness came and went as you struggled to do anything in the name of self defense. Your lungs and heart were too compromised to acquire and pump the nutrients your body needed. Soobin crouched over you, studying you with a passive look on his face. 
“Ya know,” he sighed, pulling the tote bag away from your body. “I really did like you. I hoped to have spent some more time with you, but you’re just,” he clicked his tongue, grabbing you firmly by the ankles and giving an experimental tug. You slid along the floor easily. “So. Nosy. Too nosy for your own good.” 
“Soobin, you’re not- this isn’t-” a dark chuckle passed between his lips. The ones you once dreamed of. 
“You don’t know me. This is exactly who I am, Y/N. This is who my whole family is.” He dropped your ankles harshly, secure in the fact that you were too weak to get up. A shroud of darkness filled your head as you grayed out from the panic. When you awoke again, it was to the sound of birds chirping. It hurt to open your eyes but you did it anyway, spotting Soobin just above you, wielding a shovel. 
He smiled down at you, deceivingly handsome, as he stuck the shovel into the pliant ground just to your side. Looking to your left, you spotted a freshly dug shallow grave and your blood ran cold at the recognition that he must have been digging this earlier in the day when you were reading. 
“Please, don’t do this.” you begged with the last of your energy. “Soobin, please. I- I love you.” Desperation had you spitting out your deepest secrets in a bid to catch his attention and change his behavior. 
“Awe,” he crooned, grabbing onto your wrists with a grip that would certainly bruise your delicate skin. “I know.” One sharp movement had you landing on your back in the dirt, several feet below ground level. The impact pushed all the air out of your compromised lungs and you didn’t even have the semblance to lift your head and scream to anyone listening. Soobin stood above you, blocking the sun from your view as he dropped something onto you. It took you a few moments, but you soon realized he had dropped a handful of red windflower petals and seeds onto your front. You shuddered. This is surely what had happened to all the other people who carried the flowers you’d found. This was how Soobin kept his beautiful garden. Sacrifice. 
Wordlessly, he piled shovel fulls of dirt on top of your body. With your eyes slipping shut, all you could do was feel the weight of being buried alive consume you. 
----
Soobin hated the winter. It was too long, too cold, too boring. He usually spent the whole time holed up in his home, dreaming of the day the weather warms. 
Finally, finally, after months of waiting the time had come. An early summer breeze pushed his hair out of his face. This season he had decided to go for a purple color that seemed to suit his complexion well. Sitting on his favorite deck chair, he gazed out at the beginnings of his blooming garden. All of the usuals had cropped up, but it was with great pride and delight that Soobin regarded the patch of red windflowers that had begun to grow. For their first season, they were going strong, covering almost the entire plot of land he had allowed them. For a while, he had been worried that the new plants wouldn’t perform well, since he’d never dealt with them before. But he was quite proud. 
As he sipped from a frosty glass of lemonade, he heard the distant crunch of his driveway gravel. It had been almost a year since the last time he heard it, but his heart jumped in excitement. Stretching his limbs, he began a lazy meander toward the front gate; already making out the slight static of the speaker as someone spoke into it, introducing themselves and asking if they were in the right place. Clearing his throat, he rounds to corner to the great iron gate surrounded by his guarding trees and glances back at his garden. Then he advanced, opening the gate as he came and beckoning his new guest inside the boundaries of his property.
“Hi! I’m Soobin. This house belonged to my great-great-uncle and his wife. Well, wives.”
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tag list: @unlocktxt @magicisland9-34 @givethnofucketh @yeonjjuniverse​ 
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falindrith · 2 years
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[long post, all text]
i was gonna put this on the ad/vent twitter but then i remembered this is going to be fucking long and i have a tumblr that none of my family reads lmao
thanksgiving is a fun time where you get to learn which cousins are gonna turn out to be the future conservative uncles. and you find that out by learning that the cousin who went into financial shit idolizes elon musk. to preface this, i like my family and at least on my end there are no hard feelings, and i guess he probably saw this as an argument but for me it was just a tiring discussion lmao. (also this is like one out of a lot of cousins rn)
i think out of all the wild shit his view that it's the business man in the inventor/business partnership who should get all the credit is quite possibly the Worst. elon made smart investments, he clearly deserves to have an actually inconceivable amount of wealth. in dissecting this, it became clear that not only is he ok with worker exploitation, he believes "well anyone can share in that all you [me in this context] had to do was invest all your money years ago in tesla" which ok first of all if i had done that I would've been evicted??? "it's liquid" ok but like... my rent can't be paid in tesla stock and i'd cycle through it way too fast to build any meaningfully sized investment you do finance you talk to me about short/mid/long-term goals.
in attempting to explain how "it's much easier to make money when you already have money and actually it's much easier to just Do Things when you have money already" to him, it became clear that he doesn't understand what systematic inequality means. his example was the classic american dream argument that anyone can make a billion dollar idea, his friends quit their jobs last week and raised like two bajillion dollars in their series-D(eez nuts) venture capital round or whatever the fuck. i think the exact statement was like they "quit their job they had for three years and just started programming in their bedroom"
which ok let's unpack that one huh?
"quit their job they held for 3 years" - aight so in tech you often get a massive signing bonus and a big-ass salary so you've got 3 years to save for a startup runway
"just started programming in their bedroom" - ok sure but they also graduated from a top-tier university and had 7 years to build skills for this
furthermore, they graduated debt free! of course they can quit! they're not paying off literal mountains of debt.
i also almost guarantee they also had the right connections for venture capitalist funding from this experience
you guys all see the problem here right i don't have to explain that here or keep going.
it turns out it's really hard to get an upper-middle class jewish white kid who has never experienced actual consequences to recognize what privilege means.
like i kinda get how that view forms now. of course anyone can start a business and raise billions of zollars in venture capital, and of course you can do this because you went to a good school and graduated with 0 debt. his friends did that like last week, and he's basically never had to worry about that stuff either. everyone else? just work! it's that easy (l m a and i can't stress this enough o).
the kicker is that he's ok with this system because "it's just the way it works now" and furthermore he doesn't care to change it. actually maybe that part hurts more. every day i see how the systems we (people) have set up fail friends that i love and artists and creators that i respect. i've got friends who work absurd shifts and get home too burnt out to actually work on projects the like, i've got friends still paying off debt and struggling to make rent every month and we're almost all 30. and this guy is just walking around thinking "oh yeah it's totally fine that elon has a fuck-jillion dollars he deserves it :)" like no!!!!!! do you hear yourself????? you're suck here too bitch! you're not even in the 1%! you just don't have any lower-income friends and it shows your whole ass.
...
ok i think this post makes it seem like i'm mad but i'm really just tired. i am so tired of living in a system that values accumulation of "wealth" over people, and i benefit from this system! i'm relying on the fuckin made up "numbers get big" stock market to fund an eventual down payment on a house. and it still sucks shit i think i actually actively resent how this stuff works. i don't even know what to do to be honest, and im sure as hell not perfect, but at least I try y'know by supporting artists i like and voting (lol) i guess.
aaaaaaanyway this way of thinking honestly sucks so fucking much i don't know how he lives with himself it just sounds like such a joyless existence. sure dude you have a great time getting high in your dad's hot tub, partying it up with your bros, making money (i guess?), and generally just keep thinking "this is fine."
despite all this i really do wish him the best. that's what family is for. but given the nearest opportunity i would absolutely take all of his assets, liquidate them, and give them to my friends to pay off their loans. and then just tell him, "what? you can just make another business :)" and be on my way
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everything's honestly kinda really fucking good right now. going on 2 days of radio silence on the jessica front and like. maybe this is naive given my experience with her and will end up severely emotionally backfiring but i decided that im just gonna let myself believe that its over and that im like finally actually free in the way that I set out to be when I told her off last week. like im literally about to have my first abuse free week in I dont even know how long man (inshallah) thats something that sounded totally inconceivable to me even a few days ago. as a result im FINALLY feeling all of the excitement I should've 6 months ago when I realized so many lifelong dreams all at once (ie leaving Florida for good moving to washington getting to live with all my friends etc) but couldn't because I was totally preoccupied being a depressed battered husk until always waiting for the next bomb to drop until basically this exact moment. there will be roadblocks like with all things in life but 1000 years of cain begins today
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