#just roll in a bunch its all good sprinkles
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randomly doodles 1(one) wormy boi
#mog art#artists on tumblr#dragon#bug#centipede#butterfly#velvet worm#just roll in a bunch its all good sprinkles
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Clandestine
pairing: Mr. Ben x fem! reader
rating: Mature (things get a lil heated 👀)
word count: 4.5k
summary: Mr. Ben is daddy, Ms. Jenny is mommy and they’re all a happy family at St. Lawrence High School, no crumbs left. But what happens when the cool aunt moves to town?
warnings: i did my best to leave out specific descriptions of reader except that she does have breasts and wear feminine clothing, infidelity, swearing, alcohol consumption, some heavy making out and implied smut, Ben has a daddy kink (as always, please message me if i missed anything)
a/n: my second submission for @beskarandblasters's Taylor Swift writing challenge! this one is based on "illicit affairs" from her album, folklore. being one of my top 3 albums of hers, i was excited for this prompt but i laughed so hard when Kel paired it with Mr. Ben 🤣 i had a ton of fun sprinkling in references (as well as a few extra swiftie ones too, if you look closely). this is also probably the longest fic i've ever written since i started writing years ago but this story really just took on a life of its own. i hope you all enjoy reading as much as i did writing and PS happy birthday, Pedro 😊
Teaching European History to a bunch of 10th graders is definitely not for the faint of heart, but the aftermath of the pandemic on the public education system only made the calling harder for you to ignore.
That’s why it meant so much to you when you discovered your students making fancams and claiming you as the “cool aunt.” You knew it was just their way of connecting with you and if it helped them pay attention in class and actually enjoy learning, what’s the harm? Some of the other teachers didn’t share your sentiment, but you were never one to much care about others’ opinions.
Until you met him.
Mr. Ben.
He and Ms. Jenny were the students’ absolute favorite teachers at the school, earning them the coveted titles of Mommy and Daddy. Their classrooms were both on the other side of the school in the math hall, so you never really saw them except at the monthly after-school faculty meetings. But one morning a piece of mail intended for Mr. Ben had been left in your mailbox in the front office by mistake, so you made the journey into uncharted territory.
Reading the plaques on each door, you almost thought you were in the wrong hallway when his name finally appeared on the last one at the end. It was slightly cracked so you could hear the scratching of chalk as he wrote on the board. Knocking lightly to announce your presence, you waited to hear him acknowledge you before walking in. His classroom was decorated to feel bright and cozy and welcoming, soft music emanating from the area near his desk. And the man standing in front of the chalkboard certainly fit the vibe. Soft but sturdy, carefully styled curls threatening to break free. You immediately understood why he was your students’ beloved and had them in a chokehold. You felt your cheeks heat for a moment when he cleared his throat to catch your attention, having been staring in silence for a bit too long.
“Can I help you with something?” Even his voice was so father.
“Um, yes. Sorry. I think some of your mail ended up in my box on accident.” You approached him, holding out the thin envelope. “It’s right underneath yours so it’s an easy mistake to make if you’re not careful.”
His thick fingers brushed yours as he took it from you, and you tried to steady your breath as you felt their brief warmth radiate up your arm. “Oh, good catch. Thank you.” He turned to place them on his desk and you were prepared for that to be the end of it, but he focused his attention back on you. “You’re new this year, right? I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Ben.” Extending his hand back out to you, you swallowed hard before taking it and replying with your own name. He repeated it back to you in understanding and you nearly melted at the way it effortlessly rolled off his tongue. The bell indicating the beginning of first period interrupted you before the conversation could continue any further. Bidding him a rushed farewell, you hurried back to the sanctuary of your own classroom across campus.
That was months ago. By the end of the year, the passing gestures became more frequent so that you were thankful for summer break to give yourself some time away from the man who had no idea his foot was always on your neck. Finally, you could breathe.
--
The weeks passed quickly and now you’re hauling boxes of school supplies across the parking lot. It’s the week before classes start anew and all of the teachers are trickling back in to ready their classrooms. You’ve just deposited the cardboard box on your desk when your phone chimes with a reminder about the faculty meeting in 5 minutes. You grab your lanyard, weighed down with your ID and keys, and head for the library.
When you arrive, everyone has already taken their seats so the only one available is next to him. Mr. Ben. Steeling yourself, you try to appear casual as you take your place. Feeling your movement, Ben looks over at you and flashes a captivating smile that you return without a second thought.
“Welcome back, kid. Have a good summer?” He launches into the usual teacher small talk but it’s not at all uncomfortable.
“I did. And yours?”
“Not bad. Nothing special, really.”
You hum in acknowledgement before Principal Owens steps up to the front, signaling the start of the meeting. In that moment, you come to a realization that you can’t shake. Nudging Ben’s elbow with yours, you lean closer and keep your voice low.
“I haven’t seen Jenny around, is she feeling okay?”
He chuckles before picking up on your sincerity. “Oh, you didn’t hear? She transferred over to St. Augustine.”
Your eyes widen in surprise. “Really? Can’t wait to break that to the students.”
“Yeah, you and me both.” He chuckles a little harder, earning a couple of sideways glances from others around you. You shrink into your seat a little as Ben attempts to cover with a cough.
You try to ignore the flutter in your heart, but you just have to know. “So are the two of you still…?” you trail off, hoping he picks up on your meaning so you don’t have to say it out loud.
“Yeah. Yeah, we’re still together. One less heartbreak for the kids,” he jokes.
“Oh, good. That’s good.”
And you mean it. If he’s happy, you’re happy. But a pit has formed in your stomach and you lose yourself in thought until Principal Owens makes his final announcement.
“There has been yet another surge of fancams created over the summer so as part of the first-day assembly, we will be including a segment on responsible technology usage. Ben, since you ate up the last one, would you mind handling it? After all, it was nom nom delish and had them gagged.” A burst of laughter ripples through the room as Ben runs a hand through his hair, amused.
“Yeah, sure. What could possibly go wrong this time?”
“Thank you. And if it’s not too trouble, I’d like to pair you with our newest target,” Owens gestures to you, conveniently sitting in the same vicinity, “so dubbed the ‘cool aunt.’”
You feel the heat begin to creep up your neck as you realize the implications of the proposal. You look over to see Ben nod and shrug as if to say “why not.” Looking back to the front of the room, you smile and nod in acceptance of the project. Inside, you’re trying not to scream. You don’t notice Ben holding his gaze on your profile for the rest of the meeting.
You retreat to your classroom after you’re all dismissed, willingly losing yourself in paperwork and organizing when there’s an all-too-familiar knock on your door. You look up just as Ben steps over the threshold. And closes the door. And crosses to perch on the edge of your desk, giving you an optimal view of the way his jeans stretch over his sculpted thigh and ass.
“So, how are you feeling about this assembly next week?” He leans forward, propping himself up on one arm. You force yourself to not look at the veins winding and disappearing under his shirt sleeve and maintain eye contact, which isn’t much easier.
“Good. I mean, is it supposed to be scary? What happened last time?” You remember the way everyone reacted when Ben received the assignment.
He smiles and huffs a laugh at the memory. “Let’s just say I was in your shoes now. I was just so confused about the whole concept. But it gave Jenny and I the opportunity to officially come out as a couple, so I guess it wasn’t all bad.”
The pit in your stomach widened at the mention of Jenny again. “Well, I’m glad I’m working with someone so experienced then.” You mentally kick yourself at your choice of words. What the hell is that supposed to mean? You try to recover. “Honestly, I’m a little flattered. It means the kids are engaged.”
Ben doesn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, it is kinda nice that they look up to us like that. Even if it is a little…”
“Unorthodox?”
“Right. It took me forever to figure out what it meant to have rizz and be a skinny legend.” He almost can’t get through his sentence as he’s interrupted by his own wheezing laugh. He fights it off long enough to finish his thought. “But it looks like you’re in your assembly era now, so what do you say we meet up here tomorrow and put this presentation together?”
You quickly agree, both in excitement and eagerness to get him out so you can get ahold of yourself. Satisfied, he rises but stops before he fully walks away. “By the way, I really like that perfume you’re wearing. Vanilla?”
“A-and cherry,” you manage to choke out.
“My favorite.” He smirks before raising his hand in goodbye and exiting the room, closing the door behind him.
--
The next week is a blur. You meet the next day to organize the presentation, as promised, but one conversation topic leads to another and before you realize what’s happening, Ben is putting his number into your phone. Then you’re giving him yours.
You keep telling yourself you’re just friends, like a mantra, but you can’t help but feel a sense of pride at the way he thinks you don’t notice how he inhales a little deeper when you lean into his personal space, taking in your scent. His favorite.
Even the assembly goes off without a hitch. Naturally, the students are disgruntled yet again at being reminded that fancams of their biases are banned, no matter how much they munch on it. But they seem to pick up on the friendship between their daddy and cool aunt and that’s enough to appease the juvenile masses.
You’re both dreading and looking forward to your free period. When comparing schedules, you and Ben discovered you had the same block open, so you agreed to make that a regular coffee break together. He’s already there when you walk in, bursting into his signature smile as you approach.
He stands and pulls your chair out to sit at the small table. “So, how’s the first day been?”
Accepting the gesture and trying not to read too much into it, you breathe out, “Pretty good. I can already tell that covering the Bubonic Plague is going to be interesting, but we will cross that bridge when we get to it.”
Once more, the two of you fall into an easy conversation when an ill-timed joke has you spilling your coffee. All over Ben’s tie. You immediately jump up, dashing to wet some paper towels. Ben rises to stop you, laughing at your mortification.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Hey,” he grasps your wrists, forcing you to turn and face him.
“I-I think I have a Tide pen in my room, I can go run and get it.”
“No need. I started keeping a spare in my desk years ago. You wouldn’t believe how often I spill coffee on myself.”
With that, you follow him back to his classroom. He closes the door behind you, crossing to his desk to rifle through the drawers, but you hang back. It’s only when he finally pulls out the replacement tie that you allow yourself to breathe and walk over.
Ben holds it up in jest. “See? Problem solved.” You hope he doesn’t hear the way you swallow hard as you watch him skillfully unwind his soiled tie from around his neck with one hand.
However, he struggles to knot the new tie and you speak up, “Need a hand with that?” You don’t know where the confidence came from.
He looks up at you, eyes a couple shades darker. “Would you?”
You round the desk and try to stop your hands from shaking as you reach up towards his chest. Your knuckles brush his soft button-up but before you can grip the decorative length of fabric, you feel Ben’s hands cradling your elbows. You slowly lock eyes with him, and the rest happens too fast for your brain to process.
Ben swiftly maneuvers you against the edge of his desk and leans in close, his nose to your temple, breathing you in. “You wear this just for me?”
You can’t lie to him. “Yes.”
He travels down to your pulse point where the perfume is applied, ghosting over the delicate skin there. “Good.”
He darts the tip of his tongue over the spot before moving to look you in the eyes once more, his hands journeying experimentally down to your waist. You’re fully trapped now. But you don’t want to escape.
He rests his forehead on yours as your eyes flit down to his mouth and back up. “Ben?”
“That’s not my name.”
You’re taken aback by his response for a moment before he leans in the tiniest bit more so you can feel the tickle of his mustache as he whispers, “What’s my name, baby?”
“Daddy,” you breathe out.
His lips twitch into a smirk before crashing against yours, sealing you to him.
--
Your escapades go on that way for months, innocently meeting in the teachers’ lounge to make your coffees and carrying them back to his classroom where they’re quickly abandoned. You easily get lost in each other, you perched on his desk as he stands between your thighs. You’ve discovered he likes it when you tangle your fingers in his curls, but you have to be careful not to muss them too much lest anyone catch onto your illicit activities.
You know it’s wrong. He and Jenny are still together, despite the different schools. Your mind is a constant whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. What if she finds out? Does she already know about you? Where do you stand?
But Ben is quick to make you forget your inner turmoil. You’re in your usual seat upon your throne of his desk, your blouse unbuttoned halfway to grant him access to your chest. His lips are latched to your collarbone, one hand cupping a breast and the other holding the knee you draped over his hip. You feel his hardness against your clothed core, knowing it must be painful for him. But you can’t cross that line. Not here.
As if rehearsed, Ben slows his movements to a halt, trailing his tongue back up your neck and jaw before reaching his final destination and molding your lips together. Wordlessly, you peel apart and put yourselves back together. You dare to break the silence.
“Ben?”
He looks back at you with those adorable baby browns that everyone at the school loves. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Nothing, exactly. I just-” you cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. “At the risk of sounding like a cliché, what about us?”
“I don’t understand,” he says with a furrowed brow.
“I mean. We’ve been doing…this for a while now. And I can’t deny that I’ve grown to love the thrill of sneaking around with you.” You slide off his desk to plant yourself firmly in front of him. “But…you and Jenny...I guess what I’m trying to figure out is-”
“What do we do?”
“Yeah.”
Ben lets out a sigh and adjusts his watch. Noticing the time, he reaches for your arm and the two of you walk to the door. But he puts his hand on the handle before you have the chance to turn it.
“I promise we’ll talk about this. Tonight? I’ll call you?”
You press your lips into a tight smile. “Yeah. Tonight.”
Ben removes his hand and you exit the room. As if on cue, the bell rings to signal the change of classes and you pick up your pace to make it through the sea of students back to your room in time for your next lesson.
--
He does call. And you do talk. But ultimately you agree not to change anything for now. He needs time to figure out where he and Jenny stand but neither of you can bear to let the other go in the meantime. You try to hide your growing disillusionment at your arrangement, but you can’t tell if you’re truly that good at pretending or if Ben actively ignores it.
It all comes to a head the morning you sleep through your alarm, recovering from your hushed over-the-phone activities the night before, and you forget to wear your perfume. His perfume.
You’ve assumed your position when Ben suddenly recoils.
“Where is it?”
“Where is what?” You wrack your brain trying to interpret the question.
He slowly leans back in, inhaling deeply to make sure he didn’t just miss it. “Vanilla and cherry.”
The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. “Oh, B- Daddy, I’m so sorry.”
He nearly whines in disappointment. “Where is it?”
“I slept through my alarm. I must have been moving so fast this morning that I forgot it.” You twirl your fingers through the curls at the base of his neck. “I’ll wear it tomorrow, I promise.” Ben still doesn’t look at you. You tug a little harder, forcing his attention. “Hey. It was an honest mistake, I-”
“Did I do something wrong?”
The question jars you even more than the first. You want to reassure him but you can’t form the words and your hesitation speaks volumes.
“Baby, why didn’t you say something?” Ben pulls away completely now, leaning up against the chalkboard.
“What could I say, Ben?” You’re emboldened now, matching his stance. “That I’m tired of sneaking around? That I hate being the other woman but I feel this crushing guilt about coming between the two of you?” You pause to think carefully about your next words before just throwing caution to the wind. “That I love you and I want people to know it. Don’t you?”
You can see the hurt bloom in Ben’s eyes. “Kid, I…I don’t know what I want.”
But that hurts worse. “Really?” You reach to fix the few buttons he had managed to undo and walk towards the door but he steps in front of you.
“Hey, hey, don’t- baby, just- just hear me out kid, please, let’s talk-”
“Don’t call me that.” Your voice is tinged with cold.
“Call…call you what?”
“Don’t call me ‘kid.’ Don’t call me ‘baby.’ In fact, don’t call me anything until you figure out what it is you do want.” You swerve past him and yank the door open. “Maybe I’ll still be waiting for you.”
It takes everything in you not to slam the door out of respect for the ongoing classes around you.
--
You’ve mastered the separation of your personal and professional lives so no one can see through your façade for the rest of the day. But the last bell couldn’t ring soon enough. You pack your bag and leave just as quickly as any of your students and book it out to your car. You know you’re going to get stuck in the after-school traffic but it’s better than waiting it out in your classroom where he could find you. You’ve just unlocked your door when you hear your name. You don’t recognize the voice over the din of cars and school buses, so you search for the owner and immediately regret it.
Ben raises his hand at a car that stopped to let him pass and jogs across the pavement. You want nothing more than to scream at him but for the sake of keeping up appearances, you smile and let him approach. Your voice betrays your true feelings.
“I told you, Ben, I’m-”
“I know you’re pissed and you have every right to be. But I have something I need to say and I really don’t want you to misunderstand me, so could I please just get through to the end and then you can say your piece?” He sounds out of breath. “Please?”
You simply nod and lean back against your car, waving at passing students.
“Okay. I’ve thought about what you said. And truth be told, I have not been fully honest with you. But I want to change that. I want to talk about this. About us.” He takes a long pause, collecting himself, and you almost think he’s finished before he launches into it again. “Can I come see you tonight? At your place? Or mine, whichever you’re more comfortable with. I’ll cook and we can really talk. Face to face.”
“What about Jenny? She’s not going to wonder where you are?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m taking care of it.”
You take in his words. It’s not exactly what you hoped when he said he had something to say but you’re also standing in the middle of the high school parking lot. It’s neither the time nor the place to hash out your relationship problems.
“Fine. My place. 7:00. But you’re not staying too late, it’s a school night.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ben lets himself smirk for a moment before switching back into teacher mode and bids you good afternoon, taking off back towards the school.
--
It’s 6:57 and you’re starting to curse yourself for agreeing to let Ben come over. But in a way, this is like a first date. Your first meeting outside of campus. And you can’t lie that the prospect of what could come after intrigues you.
7:00 on the dot and your doorbell rings, so you steel your nerves and open the door. Ben looks almost relieved that you actually answered and you step aside to let him in. In one hand, he holds an insulated bag of what you can only assume is ingredients for the dinner he promised to cook and in the other, a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. You accept those with a small smile and lead him into the kitchen. He begins unpacking the bag to start cooking while you dig through drawers to find a pair of scissors.
“Do you want some wine? You didn’t say what you were planning to cook so I pulled out a red and I also have a white already in the fridge,” you offer as you cut the flower stems at an angle and untie the bundle to arrange them in the vase on the coffee table.
“White sounds perfect, thank you,” Ben accepts as he rolls up his sleeves. You pull out the bottle and pour a little into two glasses, handing him one. You go to take a sip before he holds his out to you. “Cheers.” You clink and then drink, resisting the urge to down half the glass in one go.
You stand off to the side most of the time while Ben takes over your kitchen, falling back into your easy conversations without even realizing it. You have to admit you love watching him, the way his hands grip the knife and the vegetables he’s cutting, the sweat glistening on his forehead and the back of his neck from the hot stove.
The rest of the night feels…natural. Effortless. You almost forget why he came over in the first place.
You’re lounging on the couch with him, dishes washed and kitchen cleaned, wine glasses in hand when you finally cut to the chase.
“So what did you want to say to me?”
Ben’s eyes widen slightly and he leans over to rest his glass on the coffee table. “Say what?”
You need him to get to the point before you lose your nerve again. “In the parking lot, you said you wanted to talk. About us. So let’s talk.”
He lets out a nervous sigh and turns to better face you. “Right.”
You hold eye contact, expecting him to say more, but nothing comes. You sit up, putting your glass down next to his, losing your patience. “Ben, if you’re not going to-”
“I love you, too.”
The four words you’ve been waiting for him to say since the first time you kissed. But followed by more silence.
“That’s it?”
Ben opens and closes his mouth, searching for the words, but you cut him off.
“That’s not enough, Ben. The sneaking around, the stolen stares across the room, it was fun but it’s not enough anymore. You’ve made a fool out of me, but more than that you’ve…I’ve ruined myself for you.”
“You…what do you mean?” He leans in, careful not to intrude too far into your personal space.
“What we have is- is different. I’ve never had something like this and I don’t think I ever will again. You’ve shown me things, taught me things that I can’t ever share with anyone else. But this isn’t going anywhere and I’m not sure you even want it to.”
“I do!”
“And Jenny? You can’t have us both, Ben.”
“I told her.” The only sounds in the room are your individual heavy breaths. “We talked and apparently, she’d been feeling pretty distant, too. She was trying to work up the courage to talk me into counseling but when I told her about you…she let me go.” He curls his hand into a fist, stopping himself from reaching out and touching you. “I am yours and only yours. And I don’t care who knows it anymore.”
“Then prove it.” You feel as if your heart is going to burst from how fast it’s racing.
“I will.”
Ben practically launches himself across the couch, yanking you into his arms and smashing his lips to yours, as if pulled by an invisible string. You react immediately, curling your limbs around him, desperate to hold him closer. You gasp for breath when he breaks apart just enough to mumble against your lips. “Where?”
“Down the hall, last door on the left.”
In a flash, you find yourself deposited on your bed, dress crumpled on the floor, fingers flying to undo the buttons on Ben’s dress shirt. You shift your focus to his slacks, his rock-hard bulge ever prominent as you unzip. You move to pull them down his thighs along with his briefs, but he stops you. His shirt now gone, he nudges you to fall backwards onto your pillows and he follows.
His weight on top of you is intoxicating, finally able to feel all of him. The broadness of his shoulders, the contracting muscles in his back, the softness of his tummy pressed to yours. His mouth finds its home in your cleavage, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh, the scratch of his patchy beard bordering on overstimulating.
“Ben-”
“That’s not my name.” He looks up at you with a devilish grin and emphasizes his point with a hard grind of his hips into yours. “What’s my name?”
“Daddy!”
His tongue soothes each bite as he finally journeys up your chest to your neck. Taking in a deep breath, he releases it with a sinful groan from deep in his chest.
“You wear this just for me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
#my writing#mr ben snl#mr ben x reader#mr ben fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#ppcu#pedrostories
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After eight sessions of Burning Wheel, we decided that it wasn’t clicking for our table. It had a bunch of neat tech baked in, but wielding the system was not a joy for us. It felt like we could either dedicate ourselves absolutely to the infinite Swiss watch design or else abstract down toward the core resolution forever without ever doing more than scratch the surface and in general neither of those felt…y’know, good. So we decided to drop it.
Which kind of sucks. I feel a little defeated by the book. Like, I spent a not inconsiderable amount of time plumbing through the obtuse and confusing self-referential and esoteric prose, trying to get to the heart of why so many of my favorite designers cite it as a seminal work in the TTRPG field, but all I got was the feeling that the inheritors of its ideas did a lot to clean them up, sharpen them, and make them infinitely more fun to engage with.
I’m left with a feeling I’m getting pretty used to. I missed that moment when this thing was “cool.” I missed the Forge, I missed G+, and I missed Burning Wheel.
But also, I’m given to understand the Forge, like Burning Wheel, had problems, so I’m not taking it too hard.
We decided to play Mausritter this Friday. In a complete 180 from the rule-heavy interlocking gears and levers of Burning Wheel, the 300 pages of character creation, we decided to roll 3d6 3 times, and then 1d6 twice and take our little adventurer mice into the great big world to face danger and find treasure.
I’ve been having a recent problem where I play games for the wrong reasons. I’m looking for inspiration, for pilferable game design thoughts, for experiences outside of my comfort zone. I’m running games as work, as research. I’m slavishly adherent to the rules as written because I feel as though I owe that to the designer, because they clearly knew what they were doing and were doing it for a purpose. It’s a mental weight.
So I am attacking Mausritter from an entirely different angle. It’s an OSR game, very light and fast and abstracted. The rules are loose and few. It’s very minimal mental overhead. So I don’t have a lot to worry about getting “wrong” in the way that I’ve been secretly fearing I’ve been doing for Burning Wheel these past eight weeks. I’m playing this one for fun.
I’ve told my table that I need them to keep me honest. This is not work. My Friday night table is often abused as a play test group, often treated as an extension of my job as a game designer. I design games so I must play them. But this one’s just for fun. Don’t let me think to hard about it. Because I’m not in a mental state to do that right now.
We’re going to be mice. It’s going to be fun.
Anyway. I’ve done a thing I haven’t done in forever and prepped for a game. I’ve got a cool hexmap (adorable), have created some factions out in the world (portentous), named some NPCs (wholesome), and home brewed up some interesting spells and items to sprinkle around (fun as hell). I have not sat and just played DM by myself in a while. Still not something I want to do every time, but a welcome break from conducting atop a surfboard in front of a disaster wave.
I’m excited about this game. Can’t wait to report back.
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whats ur challah recipie? for the cinnamon ginger delight concoction? ill trade a recipe if you want, i make a banger lentil pie
oh omg thank you! the recipe is actually my roommate @edens-jorts 's, i just added the cinnamon ginger stuff bc i was feeling adventurous and wanted my apartment to stop! fucking! smelling! like! apple! cider! vinegar!!! (the previous occupants apparently attracted a bunch of flies </3) the challah is (mostly) as follows (i fully eyeballed it today bc eden will be bringing the measuring cups but i've been making it enough that it's still very fluffy and tasty)
Challah:
1 cup warm water - 250 g
2 ¾ tsp yeast / la levadura - 15.5 g
½ cup white sugar - 175 g
½ cup vegetable oil - 175 g
1 tbsp honey - 17 g
2 ½ teaspoon salt - 14 g
2 eggs (room temp) (mine have Never been room temp oops)
4 cups bread flour / la harina de pan - 1 kg
Glaze:
1 egg
~1 tbsp water
Add yeast to water with a little bit of sugar (probably about a tsp) and stir
Add all other ingredients in a separate bowl and then add yeast to that mixture. (i don't do this i just throw everything in with the yeast lmao) Mix until incorporated
Knead dough until it makes a ball and is less sticky—if very sticky or too dry you can add flour/water as needed. Should probably knead for about 5-10 minutes
Cover & put into a warm place for about 1.5 hours. Add or subtract time depending on temp but 1.5 usually is fine
Take out & punch down dough & let sit for 5 mins
Divide into 8 and make 8 strands
Make two braided loaves
Sprinkle w/ water (not too much or else your strands kinda melt together into one beast, just enough to make you feel like you did something), cover, & let rise for 1.5 more hours. Preheat oven to 350ºF/176.7°C
Glaze loaves w/ egg & water mixtures (recommend SOAKING it in this. don't miss a spot)
Bake for about 40 mins, adjust for size. Goal internal temp 190ºF/87.8°C
then for the stuffing stuff i based it off of a recipe (here) for ginger cinnamon rolls i attempted once (and will attempt again now that the air isn't clouded with smoke) but honestly i just went off vibes. i probably could have added more vegetable oil bc it was rather difficult to spread into the strands but eh it did its job. here's the relevant bit:
1/4 cup brown sugar - 56 g
2 tsp cinnamon - 28 g (definitely feel like i used more)
1 tsp flour - 14 g (ngl i think i definitely used less than this. maybe like a third tsp)
1 tsp ginger - 14 g (again feel like i used more, also i used ginger paste)
then i added vegetable oil till it got to a good consistency (it was like moldable and rather damp, again i could have added more to make it more runny and easier to spread but i didn't wanna "water" it down so i just decided to fill each strand with More Stuff)
when you get to the strand step, divide the dough into however many pieces you want (i've been doing six strand braids recently so i divided mine into 12). roll one out to a good length, then use your fingers to kinda spread it out and flatten it. use the back of a spoon and your fingers to spread the Stuff into it, then kinda pinch the strand back shut. you could probably use water to make it stick shut better but i'm not on food network so i gave up after my second strand (plus it made the workplace much stickier and made it harder to braid later on so maybe i'm onto something here). then rinse and repeat! except don't rinse your hands between strands bc the Stuff kinda transfers over onto the next strand when you're rolling and flattenjng and yeah 10/10
anyway my Stuff was a consistency that there was actually surprisingly little mess. when i pulled it out of the oven some of the stuff had like run over and it was all gooey and sticky and genuinely i swear this shit could be candy
if you end up making this lmk send pics and tell me what you think!!! my neighbor told me this is literally the best bread she's had her entire life which made me very happy. i hope you enjoy!!!
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Birthday Spoils
Pairing: Kirishima X f!Reader
Summary: Kiri finds out it’s your birthday on the day of and comes up with some creative methods to get you to tell him what you’d like as a present.
Warnings: Smut | Minors & Ageless Blogs DNI, Somnophilia, Praise Kink, Pleasure Dom
Contains: Established (new) relationship, smut with a sprinkling of plot, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, praise with a little deg. Nicknames Used: Baby, baby girl, pretty girl, love, cutie
W/C: 2.6K
A/N: What a better excuse to write a birthday fic than your own birthday! Hope you all enjoy ❤️
It was true; you and Eijiro hadn’t been dating all that long, just barely a month, actually. But, it always made him unbelievably happy when you decided to stay the night at his place. He’d told you where he kept his spare key, and you’d let yourself in on the nights when he had a late shift. He’d find you in bed by the time he got home, already asleep, and he’d smile to himself because you were wearing his shirt, curled up in his bed, and he’d get to hold you in his arms, and, damn, if he didn’t just sleep better when he was holding you!
Of course, there was also the fact you’d be there when he woke up. The simple domesticity of brushing his teeth by your side and sharing breakfast together, made his heart sing.
You hadn’t been together very long, but Eijiro couldn’t picture his future now without you there in it.
That was why, despite every fiber in his body screaming at him not to go snooping, he couldn’t help himself…
The moment he walked into his bedroom that night your phone had been softly chiming. Not loud enough for you to wake up from, but it drew his attention. As he changed, he couldn’t think what could be so important to be messaging you quite this late. And when more alerts still sounded after he was finished brushing his teeth, he couldn’t take it anymore.
What if it was something urgent? What if a friend needed you? What if someone was in the hospital? If he was dead asleep with his phone going off and you heard it, he’d definitely want you to wake him up!
So, he sucked in a deep breath and typed in your passcode. He’d only make sure it was nothing dire. He wouldn’t actually read them, that was what he told himself, but it was so hard not to when the ten or so texts from various contacts all read the same thing; HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Y/N!
His eyes glanced from your phone to your sleeping body, peacefully resting between his sheets. Your birthday? How could you not share with him that it was your birthday? Eijiro shook his head, he’d get an answer out of you later; right now, he was just worried that he didn’t have anything to give you. What kind of boyfriend didn’t have something to give their significant other on their birthday! He could try to go out and find something, but all the good stores would be closed now since it was past midnight.
You rolled in your sleep, and he held his breath, waiting for you to still again. When you did, the sheets had fallen to your thighs, and his shirt that might as well be a dress on you, was bunched up around your waist, blessing him with a perfect view of your panties, and he grinned only to himself. An idea clawing its way to the front of his mind.
The mattress dipped under his weight, your body angling ever so slightly towards him now. Eijiro pulled the sheet back just a little further and gently nudged your thighs further apart. His fingers trailed over the lace trim of the panties, felt the fabric change to soft cotton over your clothed core, and he bit down on his lip when he felt the tiniest wet patch waiting for him.
It wasn’t the first time he’d played with you like this, or you with him for that matter. A few weeks back, when he’d come home after a late shift all pent up, he’d kissed your neck until you woke up so he could ask, “Don’t gotta ask, Eiji,” You mumbled groggily at him, peeling your shirt away for him with a smirk on your face, “Just fuck me awake next time.”
And that was exactly what he planned to do right now.
He let his fingers continue their work on you, slowly getting between your folds, his thumb lightly rubbing your clit through your panties still. Your legs parted further for him, “That’s my girl,” he looked on as your back arched slightly, hips starting to rock in search of something more. With his free hand, he brought your shirt up over your chest, letting your tits spill out for his tongue to greet.
Just a few tender licks to your pretty nipples had them pebbling enough for him to suck lightly, paying it just the right amount of attention to make you whimper before moving on and giving the other the same treatment. The whole time, his eyes stayed on your face, loving the expressions you’d make. He couldn’t help wondering what exactly was running through your dreams right now.
He started a trail of kisses between the valley of your breasts, laying them down over your tummy, all the way down to your dampened panties, until he was comfortably nestled between your legs. His tongue licked at the fabric, groaning when your arousal hit him and switched to open-mouth kisses getting as much of you as he possibly could.
He was never gonna get sick of how you tasted, so fucking sweet, and he was addicted. “Eiji…”
He looked up, but your eyes were still closed, “Yes, cutie?” No answer.
“Dreamin’ ‘bout me, baby girl?” He coaxed you out of your panties, leaving them looped around just one of your ankles and then propping your legs up on his shoulders. He kissed all along your inner thighs, ignoring you when you tried bucking your hips, “Want somethin’?”
Again you whimpered in your sleep, not yet lucid enough to give him an actual answer. Using two thick fingers to spread you open, he let his tongue flatten and lick you right up to your clit, making sure to flick the very tip of his tongue at the end. “Like that, baby? That what you wanted?”
Your whimpers and moans only grew more desperate the more he devoured you. Mouth not stopping for anything. You were running down his chin, two orgasms down, and still asleep.
He could just make out the sheen of sweat on your brow in the moonlight that poured in through the windows, the way your lips were barely parted, panting in quick breaths as he continued going down on you.
He latched to your sensitive clit while his fingers curled inside you, easily reaching that spongy spot that made you release the prettiest cries he’d ever heard. “Eijiro– oh fuck!” This time when he looked up, your pretty eyes were just barely open, but he showed no signs of slowing down. Around your clit, his lips curled up in a smile as your fingers curled into his hair.
Your grip tightened the better he did, the closer you got, and then your walls were quivering around his fingers again, clamping down around him, trying to pull them inside.
When you finally settled, he pressed a gentle kiss to your clit and made his way up to your lips. “Welcome home.” You mumbled, sleep still thick in your voice.
His thumb brushed your cheek as you kissed him; he really did love it when you called this place home. “Didja just miss me, or…?”
He grinned and kissed you again, longer this time while his cock ran between your soaked folds. “I always miss you.” You sucked in a sharp breath when his tip went over your clit before he drew his hips back to line himself up with your hole.
He pressed forward, “But also,” he grunted while you moaned against his lips, feeling every inch of your warm walls squeeze around him, “I didn’t wanna wait until the morning to wish you a happy birthday.”
Your eyes went wide, and, for once, it wasn’t from the sheer size of him. “How’d you know!”
He pulled back only to thrust in a little harder than he meant to. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He kept the thrusts shallow so you could still speak in between huffed breaths. “We just– we haven’t been t’gether that long– fucking hell– I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to do something for it.”
“But, I really like celebrating people’s birthdays. Your birthday could’ve been the day we met, and I still would’ve done something!”
Your eyes softened at his words, bringing his face down to kiss him again. “I love you, Eijiro.”
He was still getting used to hearing you say those three little words, but he was certain that hearing them from you was always going to bring him an immeasurable amount of joy.
“I love you too, Y/N.”
“Well, at least you know when my birthday is for next year.”
Once again, he picked up the pace, rocking himself in and out of your heat. “You think just because I found out now means I’m not gonna do stuff this year?”
“N–no. I kinda thought this–” a broken moan split your sentence, “wakin’ up to this was doin’ something.”
His rhythm didn’t falter when he gripped your chin, smiling devilishly down at you, “Love, this isn’t your present. This is your punishment f’not telling me.”
Your mouth opened to say something but what it was, he’d never find out. Before you managed to even get a single word past your pretty lips Eijiro was already slamming his cock back into you. He pulled at your thighs so they rested over top his, letting him push deeper still.
Words might’ve been lost on you but moans and cries dripped from your mouth like the sweetest honey and he was gonna consume every drop.
His head dropped to your tits again, nipping and sucking on the buds harder now since you were awake. With each snap of his hips he tugged at them, teeth barely scraping.
Your heels pressed into the mattress, hands clung to the sheets for dear life, except when he brought you to the edge again. The moment you got close your legs wrapped around him, your hands came up and nails anchored into his shoulder blades. “That’s it, baby, gimme another.”
But another didn’t mean the last. Eijiro had a goal and he was going to see it accomplished.
You’d lost count of the number of times Eijiro had made you cum thus far. You just couldn’t have been sure since you woke up already soaked with him hard at work between your thighs.
At first, you swore it was just a dream, even after your eyelids cracked themselves open and you saw him below you, you just weren’t convinced it was real. He looked hungry, like a man starved and craving. Usually you could see his brilliant crimson irises in the moon glow but not tonight. Lust had consumed them, hiding away that pretty red behind inky black pupils.
If it was in fact a dream, you were going to make the most of it. You brought your fingers up to his hair, wrapping the long tendrils around and then tugging at his roots, pulling him deeper into your cunt.
By the time he had his fingers buried in you, you were pretty confident this wasn’t a dream anymore, you were just too close to cumming to care.
Maybe that was the first one, there was no way to be sure, not now at least. Not when you were about to cum on his cock yet again!
Your eyes screwed shut, that cord in your lower belly unbelievably tight and ready to snap. Just a couple more rutting thrusts did you in. Writhing beneath him, his rough hands clamping down on your hips to keep you still meanwhile his kept moving. “That’s it, gods—! So fuckin’ tight!”
How he kept going you never were sure. He’d only cum once so far and he’d just pressed on as if nothing had even happened.
“Just use your words, pretty girl, just tell me what you want for your special day, and then you’ll only have to cum one more time.”
You’d tried answering him, he would slow his pace down to let you speak but pathetic whimpers took the place of actual words. Your head felt so dizzy, brain foggy. You had a problem asking for things when you weren’t cock drunk, thinking of something to tell him now seemed downright impossible!
He seemed to take an ounce of pity on you this round though, slowing to nearly a stop. It was long enough for your brain to settle on a single, three-letter word; “y-you.”
Instantly, you knew by the smile on his handsome face that answer wasn’t going to be enough. “You’ve got me. Can’t ya tell?” He gave you a few particularly hard thrusts that brought tears to your eyes just to prove his point. “I just wanna spoil you. Try again, love.”
He kept his cock warm, buried to the hilt in your abused cunt, his thumb circling your clit like that was supposed to help. “C’mon, Y/N. My cock break that beautiful brain of yours?” His taunts didn’t help anything either!
You weren’t thinking straight. Weren’t thinking about how you’d only been together a couple of weeks. What was appropriate to ask for? You didn’t know anymore, couldn’t even fathom a safe option to say and instead a true desire that you’d been wanting for years slipped out.
And it was an answer he finally accepted. “Now that I can make happen.” He leaned down over you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that held more love than you thought possible.
He drew his hips back, “just one more for me, baby, I promise.”
Slivers of morning light cut through his curtains, splashing Eijiro’s bedroom with golden hues. Your arms stretched out, shoulders popping, and hands feeling cool sheets where your warm boyfriend undoubtedly should’ve been.
He’d gotten home late, fucked you for well over an hour, and he was up before you on a Sunday? That didn’t seem possible.
You noticed his phone wasn’t plugged in on his nightstand, his jeans weren’t tossed over the back of the chair like they usually were. For a moment, your heart dropped, thinking something must’ve happened and he got called back to the agency.
There was no new message on your phone though, nothing from him saying where he might’ve gone.
You found a pair of sleep shorts, put them on over your sore legs with a bit of a smile remembering the night before.
Your hand had been reaching for the door when it opened right in front of you. “What’re you doin’ up?” Eijiro, full dressed for the day ahead, nearly fumbled with the large tray of food in his arms. “Get your butt back in bed.”
You giggled but did exactly what he asked, hopping right back in and pulling the covers over your lap before he set the tray down. It was a wide assortment of all your favorite breakfast foods all artfully laid out before you.
You grabbed his face, feeling his day-off stubble under your fingertips, and kissed him until both of you were smiling and laughing. “Eat up, cutie. We’ve got birthday plans to get to.”
#tw: somnophilia#mha fanfic#bnha fan fic#Kirishima#kirishima smut#kirishima fluff#kirishima x reader#kirishima x y/n#scar’s writing again 📕#scarlett's feeling smutty 💋#best red rock shark ♥️🦈
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Welcome!
Hi! Thanks for stopping by. My name is Navi, and I write some Zelink and do a lot of betaing. If you want to keep up with my work, you can follow me here or on Ao3.
Otherwise, here's a master list of my favorite works:
The Midnight Revelry. (Ch 11/11) A pre!Calamity Age of Calamity or Breath of the Wild Zelink fic. It's got masquerade balls and secret letters <3
Never Been Kissed: A Skyward Sword Zelink story.
Hyrule's First Couples Therapy: a post!totk therapy fic.
What We Thought: A pre!calamity Zelda steals some of Impa’s Sheikah garments to sneak from the castle. What will happen when her appointed knight sees a dark figure stealing away from his princess’s study?
And some of my favorite pieces to beta. Please give the authors all the love:
Long Series:
A Lullaby for a Princess by @wouldyoustilllovemeifiwasawyrm/ (Ch. 26/43) I'm absolutely obsessed with this fic. Link and Zelda marry post!TotK after rapidly getting pregnant. The emotions through this piece are intense, and I absolutely cannot wait to see how it ends up. (This series now also has a bunch of canon Linktober one-shots. Pay close attention to Wild Spirit, Wandering Spirits, Sheep Are Girls, and Brightblooms in the Well)
The Long and Winding Road by @flutefemme. (8/14) A Twilight Princess AU where Zelda is running from her mob boss ex Ganon and finds a home with Link and his son.
Pride and Prejudice by @shameless-fujoshi. (Ch 23/28) Firefighter!Link and Professor!Zelda meet and they don't quite hit it off at first. Can they reconcile their differences?
The Cage by @shameless-fujoshi. (Ch 32/32) Link is a cage fighter, and Zelda is a it is everything I didn't know I needed in a modern AU. Very weak for Link calling Zelda baby.
A Couple of Trials (73/100) by @kenlair. This massive wonderful series has been going on far longer than I even knew Zelink existed, but its a really fascinating telling of what Zelda and Link's life could have realistically looked like post!BotW. The worldbuilding elements are second to none.
One Shots/Short Series:
famous prophets (stars) by @korokposting. Pre!Calamity first kiss. The trans!Link characterization gives me such life.
A Flower Adorned Goddess by @oatmilkdrnkr. Pre!Calamity sweetness and fluff and absolutely adoring Link.
rubies, spicy peppers, and hylian shrooms by @angelicgarnet. Zelda working through her feelings about menstruation with a sprinkle of zelink goodness.
The Couple of Gracemas by @kenlair. It's a pre!Calamity Christmas special yall! Cute sweet moments between a teenaged couple with far too much on their shoulder, which a healthy sprinkle of angst.
silent princess by @korokposting. TotK -- Link's search for Zelda, and the flower that guided him. this piece is so lovely and sweet
you're too far away by @korokposting. Post!OoT, Link doesn't return to his childhood. A Shink story with lots of Sheik gender feels that are just...so phenomenal. Its breathtaking.
if i've lost you for good by @korokposting. Post!TotK, Link and Zelda confront the trauma of being chosen by Hylia. Grab the tissues and settle in. (And then probably read some of these kid fics after, bc it will emotionally destroy you.) Some of the finest writing on depression and mental health issues I've seen.
It Only Takes a Second by @shameless-fujoshi. Baby Zelly locks herself in the bath house while Link is on parent duty.
Swords and Naps by @shameless-fujoshi. It's time for baby Zelly to take a nap -- but not if she has anything to say about it! This adorable fic had me rolling.
Before Our Eyes by @shameless-fujoshi. This slice-of-life fic is a prime example of what she does best as Link coddles baby Zelly during a thunderstorm.
anti-curse by @korokposting. Link and Zelda's first kiss post!Calamity. I love first kiss fics and this one felt so tender, vulnerable and real. I've reread it so many times.
Entanglement by @shameless-fujoshi. Young parents Zelda and Link leave for Lurelin Village for their first vacation since they've had their baby. Zelda doesn't handle it well.
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SPOILERS!
Thoughts on the awakening movie
Ok so I have thoughts, not very organized thoughts but thoughts nonetheless
1) why was Marinette’s voice actress when she was singing SO DIFFERENT from her speaking one??? It took me out of the movie every single time.
2) there were too many songs and the fact that none of them were Ce mur qui nous separe is heartbreaking. At the third Marinette song I was rolling my eyes. Plus they all felt pretty same-y and I didn’t think any of the, were particularly good.
3) the scenes felt SO disjointed! Like they had some cool storyboards but weren’t quite sure how to join them together.
4) the whole story felt kinda like that to me, like they couldn’t quite explore all the elements they wanted to include and relies a lot on the fact that we already know (and love) the characters, like if it was my first approach to the universe I’d feel like the movie was rushed and shallow.
5) on a more positive note the animation was incredibly beautiful, a few characters felt a little too baby faced but the lighting and textures really made this very pretty to look at.
6) what was Gabriel’s villain song? It’s like they had an interesting idea but they just couldn’t deliver (which unfortunately rings true for most of the movie)
7) related to Marinette and her many many songs was her character arc, it felt kinda all over the place, like her whole “gotta face my fears” lesson was learned like three different times and not once in a fulfilling way.
8) Alya was kinda mean at the beginning? Did anyone else feel that way?
9) Tikki’s rap was SO CRINGE and the bit in Hawkmoth’s song where he gets a hat and poses un a rap-y way was so weird as well. Like come to think of it they were probably referencing “friends in the other side” but it only makes this song seem way worse by comparison.
10) the movie had serious issues with its rhythm and pacing, with the whole story but also in every scene.
11) kinda related to that but their mouths sometimes would not move with the dialogue? At first I assumed it was because it was made for French first but I could very clearly read their lips in English just not in sync with the sound.
12) the kwamis (genies in this movie apparently, ugh) were characterized in such a weird way, it was like trying to be Tikki but not quite getting there. I did enjoy when she got all wide eyed and musterious, it kinda goes with her being super old and powerful.
13) Plagg??? Being mostly just a fart joke??? 0/10
14) that and Chat feeling so unimportant.
15) Chat also fell in love way to fast, and like it didn’t feel genuine? Like they barely knew each other and Marinette wasn’t like particularly impressive yet for him to be fawning over her.
16) after the little montage tho? I loved their dynamic and relationship, and I really liked their little fight on the roof
17) the movie was sprinkled with little scenes and moments that were enjoyable and well crafted, but even if they were emotional moments they just didn’t feel earned and were kinda buried under a bunch of mid scenes.
18) I did like that Hawkmoth was dealt with in the spam of one movie, 11/10 much more realistic for his abilities than 5 seasons.
19) most of the jokes didn’t land because the timing of them was so weird, like long pauses or they were delivered too fast.
In general there were some bits that I enjoyed and the animation was obviously gorgeous (even if the pacing brought it back a bit) but maybe I had too much hype but I was disappointed. Still I’m certainly inspired to try some fan art and will save stills from the movie cause they were so beautiful.
I probably didn’t make a lot of sense but I needed to get everything out there!
P.S. HOW COULD THEY CUT JUST BEFORE THE KISS?!! UGHHH!!!
#ml movie spoilers#ml awakening spoilers#ml awakening#ml spoilers#miraculous lb#miraculous ladybug#miraculous spoilers#miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir#awakening movie
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for all the fellow durge x astarion brainrotters out here.
Sooooooo I kind of wanted to throw this out there as an experiment/tentative prelude, but I’ve been considering for a good long while that I’d like to start posting some BG3 writing on here.
Specifically a dark urge x Astarion story that has been rolling around and banging against the bars of its enclosure inside my head. I think I could also make it a mixture of Astarion x reader/Tav and Astarion x OC!durge too. (And a sprinkling of durgetash too).
Please be aware if you read ahead and haven’t played the origin yet, there will be spoilers. So I’ll leave the rest under the cut!
Essentially I have begun to write about the dark urge origin and my character’s journey. Also about Astarion’s and various ways in which their stories parallel one another. Not that the game itself doesn’t already do an incredible job at this. I just have a lot of headcanons that I think could be fun to explore and flesh out and honestly the brain rot is so bad that if I do not put it somewhere, I will absolutely turn into a mindflayer.
I don’t really have anything linear in mind, closer to a cluster of a bunch of different ideas/moments that I just really want to get out of my brain and word vomit them somewhere. It would be a mixture of post-game adventures, moments during the game’s acts, and also quite a bit of pre-amnesia dark urge and some durgetash for good measure because I am a degenerate.
All that being said – I do absolutely want to be inclusive as much as I can. There will be moments where the story can be written in a more neutral way regarding gender and also not include appearance at all if people would like to imagine themselves/their Tavs/OCs instead. Not everything will be just my OC!durge specific and for those particular moments I will tag them as such (including things like content warnings, etc. so people are aware what they’re fulling getting into).
Don’t get me wrong, I still very much want to write about my durge and flesh our their story and really get into the nitty gritty of what I felt their journey was like. Also just their own personal character development in juxtaposition with their relationship with Astarion.
It has been a very very very long time since I’ve posted anything online and I know there’s always a risk with doing so, but I’ve just been honestly so genuinely inspired not only by the writing in the game but the incredible content other people have been creating because of this game and I just want to give a shot. To be a small part of it, even if it truly is just only for me (not to sound presumptuous) and no one notices.
At least, I don’t want to make that the main point but I know there’s a lot of you dark urge enjoyers out here and was essentially just wondering if people would be interested in a story like this?
It’d also most likely be 18+ so I was considering either just making a whole other blog or a side-blog to post there since this account is very very old and I wasn’t sure if it’d be safer and more comfortable for people who might want read this.
Again, I really REALLY don’t want to sound pretentious at all. Just thought it might be cool to share and honestly, I’d love to have people to talk about this game with. Especially about the dark urge, I just have so many feelings about it and I enjoy getting to read all the interesting and insightful meta/thoughts/headcanons people have come up.
To quote our favorite fanged boy, “Honestly, I have no idea what we’re I'm doing. Or what comes next.”
#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#bg3 writing#durgetash#astarion fic#bg3 fanfiction#durge#astarion x durge
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Prompt idea: Belly motorboating/kissing. Bonus if that belly is painfully full after being stuffed to the gills lol
It felt like an enormous bowling ball was resting on his midsection, pressing down on his frame as he lay on the berth. His frame felt so heavy. Every move felt damn near impossible! It was as if he was trapped in the stickiest glue that refused to give up its hold. Thankfully, the berth was soft and cozy. Silk sheets definitely added luxurious comfort.
Just how did he end up in this predicament?
Swer/ve groaned. He knew the answer: his big mouth. This time, he didn’t talk himself into trouble but ate himself into trouble. All because of some stupid bet. And his pride. The bet: a bunch of ‘B/ots at the bar claimed that one of his advertised dishes was a scam. You know, if you can eat this whole meal, it’s on the house! Now, why would the minicon offer something he didn’t stand behind?
The meal can be consumed in one sitting.
And the bets were made. Credits slammed on the table, and mechs jeeringly told the barkeep to put his mouth to good use then and prove it.
Usually, he’d talk his way out of it, but upon seeing Blu/rr place his bet, the red and white bot changed his mind.
Blu/rr was betting in his favor, claiming he could devour this whole meal in one sitting.
How could he back out now that his crush was cheering him on?
So, Swer/ve gobbled up the large turkey feast, which consisted of an extra-large portion of cyber turkey, twice-baked lithium potatoes, creamy mac and cheese with little slivers of bacon sprinkled on top, stuffing, and, of course, two generously sized dinner rolls.
It was a struggle to get that smorgasbord of a meal down his throat, and he had the food sweats to prove it as he set the silverware down on the empty plate. He was about to gloat when a large slice of cherry pie sat before him. Suddenly, he remembered this menu item included dessert.
No one knew who groaned louder: Swer/ve of his belly.
But now he lay, painfully stuffed belly up on a silky-smooth berth. He was a richer mech tonight! But that’s not what revved his engines the most. The fact that he laid in Blu/rr’s berth was the best reward possible.
All throughout the feast, his idol was the only mech rooting for him, giving him encouraging words and adoring smiles as his optics raked up and down his rounding frame. Pri/mus, it looked like Blu/rr would rather use his servos to touch and fondle his flab!
Swer/ve wouldn’t have objected, but he did have a bet to win.
He felt the berth shift around him. Peeking up, he received a wondrous sight! Blu/rr was crawling over him like a cybercat, engines purring as a trail of kisses traveled down his chest and onto the belly’s crest.
Swer/ve couldn’t stop staring. Seeing those lips pursed as they kissed at the taunt paunch was ever so alluring! Seeing those doe-like optics stare up at him just ground his gears! Feeling that tongue dart out to have a taste of that bloated belly nearly fried his circuits. Soon that mouth sucked gently at protoform- licking where it was taunt and sucking where adipose accumulated.
And for good measure, a few bites were added in.
And those servos? They kneaded at the soft, dough-like flab along his sides. Fingers dug in and gently pinched, slapped, and groped at love handles as if they were stress-relief toys. Thick thighs were tickled and traced. Swer/ve’s cooling fans whirled to life. This touch sent electric-like pulses to surge throughout his scorching frame, causing him to wiggle and squirm. Suddenly, the minicon felt so alive… and on fire!
Pri/mus, when was the last time the barkeep felt so cherished? No one ever paid him any attention- aside from demanding another drink. Yet here he was, laying in his crush's berth, getting all the compliments his spark could desire. Hearing Blu/rr gently moan as his mouth worshiped the now grumbling beast while hands lavished was just too much! And seeing a sly smile appear on the racer’s face was too good.
However, that should have been a clue. The other’s helm dropped out of view as the servos smooshed the flabby underside of the tummy together. Swer/ve squealed in laughter (and a few burps) when that face shook within his tummy flab.
Pri/mus. He can now say he had his tummy motorboated
…….
sorry I didn’t get into more detail about the painful aspect. I’ll have to make sure I copy the prompt to my laptop when I write. Hope you like! I had to take this down a bit for tumblr. lol.
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Me age 13: "omg, this is the best book ever I love it so much!"
Me age 20: "ugh, this is the worst book I've ever read, I hate it."
Me age 36: "this is a DnD campaign."
So I made it through the second book of the Icewind Dale trilogy, Streams of Silver, in my nostalgia trip.
And yeah. It's a game of DnD.
Specifically, it's a bunch of Tolkien fan boys having fun playing a fantasy fighting game and being awesome, and, yeah, it does its job.
It's still lacking in things I like in stories, but I can see where this is coming from. I prefer characters with more emotional depth and them having more natural feeling interactions, and deeper world building. But this is a game for people who like feeling awesome in a traditionally heroic way, and experience similar stuff as with their favourite books.
The characters are more archetype-ish/stereotypey, because they're written as player characters instead of complex people. There are A LOT of bad guys and evil creatures that the heroes have to fight, because DnD is a game built around a fighting mechanism, and campaigns are built with Random Encounters so the players can engage with the mechanics of the game they're playing. So this area has orcs in it, that will fight you. This bit here has human barbarian tribes that will fight you (and have some Unfortunate Implications about "noble savages" and their belief system being built aroud this monster creature from another plane of existence and other fun eighties tropes, but it's not like they get mentioned again after the encounter.) You failed a persuation roll to let this one town's guards let you pass because your elf hails from an evil elf race even if he himself is a good individual, and him having black skin marks him as dangerous to people (no wonder many modern depictions of drow have them more purple or gray than flat out black), so you are forced to take a detour through this swamp area that's full of trolls that will all attack you. And there's a giant snake that will attack you. And so forth.
And the Tolkien really shows! You could probably make a drinking game out of spotting all the Tolkien references, just the amount of times the word "mithril" gets thrown around could be one on its own.
So one of the main characters is a dwarf king of a lost underground dwarf kingdom, the Mithril Halls, who's ancient home got taken over by a shadow dragon which drove them to exile, and the Main Quest is to go find it and take it back (Hobbit). (None of his other clan mates from the Icewind Dale seem to remember or care enough to join their king in his search, but that's not the point, because you only got four players and they all picked different races. It's a game, your supposed to build it for them to play, that's the whole point.) Once they get to the place, there's a kinda "Mines of Moria" feeling scene of them wondering how to open the door, though the solution to it is more DnD feeling than that of Lord of the Rings. Though, speaking of Moria, remember how awesome the Gandalf vs Balrog scene was? Good news! We liked it too, so much so that we did the whole "beloved hero falls to a 'certain death' in the depths of the mine while fighting a bad guy/evil being" thing TWICE! Oh, and did your players like Galadriel? You have a nice GM who gives you a magical queen NPC (who's name even rhymes with her), who comes to the heroes' aid by giving advice and helpful items, except even better, because what if she also had a crush on your favourite character?
Sprinkle in a group of evil rivals, with a nemesis for the favourite character ("narrative foil" kinda feels like an understatement, though, as Entreri gets introduced as a dark mirror for Drizzt with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer), couple evil wizards, a fun and quirky family of good wizards for a fun interlude for your players, and few other fun and magical encounters, some cool loot, and a classic damsel in distress (though I do give credit for Catti-Brie actually having a role in this book. I hated the way she got kidnapped and damselled when I read the book last time, but on a re-read now, I do see her being clever and using her situation to sabotage her kidnappers, even if teenage me was very disappionted in how she didn't pick up a sword and do the awesome battle stuff herself).
(Okay, so this is just me theorizing, and I don't really have any factual basis for this, but I kinda get the feeling like Wulfgar was originally planned as the "young hero protagonist" of these books, but Drizzt ended up a lot more interesting of a character, and the stories just gravitated to focus on him instead as the author's fave. Not that a similar thing would have ever happened to me or anything, haha...)
Like. This book still isn't my thing, really. I very much prefer deeper and more rounded character writing and more thought out worldbuilding, but I must admit, realizing that this book was basically a game of Dungeons and Dragons kinda made the whole experience so much more enjoyable. Even if I spent the entire time reading thinking about the players of the characters instead of the characters themselves as people, but still.
You made the story out of reshuffled Tolkien tropes but edgier, put in some whimsy nonsense that makes no logical sense, and had tons and tons of really flat enemies that kept spawning and aggroing your party like video game mooks. Aww, sounds like a fun campaign, your players must have had great time!
... I should probably re-read Lord of the Rings one of these days.
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Crushed
Hiii, I always love your fics, you always write my blorbo so well. Just— Hngh they're all such good bois. Anyways, please don't feel rushed about getting to this request, but I would love to see your take on a fic where the other sides try to matchmake (either subtly or not, dealer's choice!) Virgil with someone of your choice :D preferably with hurt/comf sprinkled in with all the shenanigans that they can get into when they try and push Virgil and Other Side together :'D thanks sm! – anon
Read on Ao3 Part 1
Warnings: none!
Pairings: prinxiety, perceived anxceit but not really
Word Count: 3349
Takes place in an AU where the Sides' roles are switched: Logan is Morality, Roman is Anxiety, Virgil and Patton are Creativity, Remus is Deceit, Janus is Logic.
Roman sees Janus kiss Virgil on the cheek. Oh, well, that means that they must be in love, right?
If only he knew that Janus isn't the side that Virgil's actually crushing on…
Roman fiddles with his hands as the meeting goes on. This one's about what to do this weekend and he's not sure any of them sound like good ideas. Going to the new pop-up store by themselves seems like trouble; what if they get overwhelmed and then none of their friends know how to come yet them? And the new restaurant might be worse, what if they don't like their food and then they have to tell the waitstaff that? They're just doing their job, it's not their fault if Thomas doesn't like the food! And what if Thomas's car gets a flat on the way there? They don't know that area, they don't know how far the nearest place is going to be, what if they can't drive home and they have to be out there for hours and hours and hours?
It was better just to stay home.
"Roman?"
Roman jumps as a hand comes to rest on his shoulder. He looks up to see Logan watching him, concerned.
"Are you quite alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."
"Bullshit!" Remus waggles his fingers in a wave when Roman glares at him. "You're freaking out, aren't you?"
"Don't be unkind," Janus scolds, giving Remus a gentle push to the shoulder. "I'm sure if Roman is upset about something, he would tell us."
"That's also bullshit."
Patton rolls his eyes, scoffing at the two of them beginning to squabble, looking back at Logan. "All I'm saying is I don't think we should be going out there! That place has no standards of health clearly available, they don't even have vegan options, and who knows what that horrid chicken logo is actually from? We're much better off going somewhere safe and reasonable, that's probably what Roman is so upset about, right?"
"Uh—I—"
"Thomas isn't vegan," Janus says smoothly, "the restaurant wouldn't be open if it hadn't passed its health and safety inspections, and the logo is irrelevant."
"Excuse you?" Patton draws himself up. "The logo is a reflection of the restaurant's values! If they're going to blatantly display something so vulgar, I don't think that's a place that's very family friendly!"
"You say that as if it's a negative," Remus huffs, "I don't want to eat around a bunch of screaming kids. And what's with the whole 'vulgar' thing? It's a chicken holding a platter."
"Wearing nothing but underwear!"
"It's a bikini."
"Exactly!"
"There is nothing wrong with a cartoon depiction of an animal in a bathing suit," Logan says with infinite patience, his hand still on Roman's shoulder, "now, are there any other objections?"
Patton fumes and grumbles for a moment. Roman bites his lip. He doesn't actually want to make Patton upset anymore and it seems like everyone else has already agreed…
"Roman?"
"Um—"
"Don't lie," Remus says, "I'll know."
Oh. Oh, god, everyone's looking at him, oh, no—
"Hey."
Roman turns to look at Virgil, who had previously been quiet. He leans forward, propping his weight on his elbows.
"What's bothering you, Princey?"
"I—um—it's just we've never been here before. We don't—we don't know the area, we don't know how to get there, we don't even know if we'll like the food."
Virgil nods. "Okay. Well, Joan is the one who recommended the place, and we know Joan knows our taste in food. It's close enough to the bus that if something really bad happens, we can still get home. And we'll have J—" he gestures to Janus who nods— "on directions, so we know we won't get lost."
"All true," Janus adds quietly, "thank you for speaking up, Roman, did that help?"
"Y-yeah." Well, now I feel like an idiot for being so upset.
"Then it's settled." Logan pats his shoulder once more. "I am excited to try this place."
"Me too!"
As the conversation winds to a close and the others start to sink out, Roman finds himself watching Janus and Virgil. The two of them have their heads together, speaking quietly. There's an intimacy to the way their shoulders keep brushing, the way they keep smiling, even the way they trade off the ends of their questions. Part of him thinks he shouldn't be watching this, this is clearly a private moment, but he can't stop.
His eyes widen when he sees Janus lean in to kiss Virgil's cheek.
With a squeak and a scramble, he sinks out too, appearing back in his room and curling up into a ball. Janus kissed Virgil. Janus kissed Virgil. Oh my god, Janus just kissed Virgil.
He definitely wasn't supposed to see that. Wait, did that mean they were—together? Maybe it was a secret? Or maybe they were just in the beginning stages of being together, or maybe one of them was waiting to ask the other out? Was that why they both wanted to go to the restaurant? Was it their date?
He puts his chin on his knees. It had felt really nice when Virgil asked him what was wrong. He should try and make Virgil feel nice too.
…yeah. Yeah, he can help Virgil with Janus.
***
"Logan?"
Logan turns as Virgil jogs over to him, adjusting his glasses. "Yes?"
"Is Roman okay?"
"I've not seen much of him lately, which is a little worrying, but…yes, I would presume so." He frowns. "Why, do you think something's wrong?"
"He's avoiding me, I think."
"Avoiding you?"
"Yeah, he keeps saying no to things we planned a while ago, and he won't really look at me during the meetings anymore. I tried to ask him if he was alright and he just got really red and mumbled something before he left."
"Well, that is worrying. Is there anything else in common, or that you've noticed?"
"…he keeps suggesting I hang out with J."
"Janus? Perhaps he knows that you two have been wanting to work together for a while."
"Maybe."
"Look," Logan says, resting his hand on Virgil's shoulder, "you know Roman thinks the world of you. I'm sure if you spoke to him about what's troubling you, he would understand."
Virgil sighs. "God, I hope so."
***
No, no, no, no, this is all wrong, this is very wrong, oh, no, I messed up—
Roman forces a smile to his face as Virgil finishes talking, looking at him in that way that makes him feel special. "So…yeah, Princey. Are we—are we good?"
"Yeah, we're good!" Virgil blinks at the force of his shout. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to yell, it's just—yeah. Yeah, we're good."
"Are you gonna…stop avoiding me?"
"I didn't mean to avoid you—okay, maybe," he concedes when Virgil raises an eyebrow, "but—I thought you'd—well, I mean—I just thought—"
"You can say it, it's okay."
"I thought you'd rather spend more time with Janus."
Virgil frowns. "Janus? Why?"
"W-well, you…you…um," Roman mumbles, twisting his fingers together, "I didn't…I know I've tried to hog a lot of your free time in the past and I'm not really good at the stuff you—that you enjoy doing with people and…Janus is?"
Understanding crosses Virgil's face and he chuckles. "Yeah, he's pretty great, huh?"
"Mhm." Don't let him see that, don't let him see that, just be happy for them, just be happy for them. "I just…I just want the two of you to be happy."
"That's really sweet of you, Princey," Virgil says, reaching out and lightly tapping the tip of his nose, "but I like hanging out with you too, okay?"
"O-okay."
"Wanna sit next to me for movie night again?"
"Yes," Roman says way too quickly, "I mean, yeah, yeah, sure, if that's…something you want too."
Virgil chuckles. "Yeah, that sounds good. See you then?"
"Y-yeah."
Virgil ruffles his hair and heads out of his room, leaving Roman to wait until the door is properly shut to fall on the bed, bury his face in a pillow, and groan.
It was hard enough when Virgil came and asked him softly if they could talk, it was hard enough to hear him be all concerned over Roman, but then he had to listen to Virgil say that Janus was great in that soft and fond voice and then ask him to sit next to him at movie night—
Oh, why is this so hard?
He just needs to stop freaking out about it. He can still be Virgil's friend and help Virgil get with Janus. He can do this. This is what he wants. This will make everyone happy.
…right?
***
It's one of those days, Virgil's in a playful mood, and yes, he is about to make that everyone's problem.
A few of them know better, rolling their eyes and making themselves scarce or proudly displaying the fact that it rolls right off of them. He caught Janus texting a group chat saying that he's in a mood, best steer clear if you don't want any part of it, and chuckled to himself as he made his way back upstairs.
As if that would do anything to deter him.
He's about to go and track down Remus when he walks past the den and pauses. A smile crawls across his face when he sees Roman there, curled up on the couch, writing in his notebook.
Perfect.
He approaches slowly, giving Roman more than enough time to look up and flee—or at least try—but he doesn't, buried in his notebook until Virgil reaches the corner of the couch. Then he startles, glancing up and curling a little tighter.
"Hi."
"Hello, sweetheart."
Bingo. Roman turns pink, ears flushing red as he blinks up at Virgil. He shuffles a little bit, glancing away before looking back up. "Did—did you need something?"
Virgil hums, tilting his head and just gazing at him. Then he smiles. "May I join you?"
"Um, yeah—yeah, sure, go ahead."
"Thanks, sweetheart."
Another muffled noise as Virgil walks over. Roman shifts, clearly expecting Virgil to sit next to him on the couch—tempting, but not quite what he's going for—and visibly startles like a little kitten when he takes a seat on the coffee table, right in front of him.
He makes himself comfortable, elbows on his legs, and tilts his head as if he's surprised by Roman's confusion.
"Hi, cutie."
He doesn't bother to hide his smirk as Roman looks away, fruitlessly flipping pages in his notebook until the flush subsides a tiny bit. He rests his chin on his hand and just stares, loving the way Roman keeps pointedly not looking at him and trying to sneak glances only to find out that Virgil's still just watching him.
"What," he blurts out eventually, ears back to blushing roses again, "do you want something?"
"Maybe I just want to spend time with you."
Roman looks up, disbelief written all over his features, only for it to dissolve right back into a downright adorable fluster when he winks.
"Aww, come on," he coos when Roman tries to hide his face in the notebook, "don't hide from me, sweetheart, you're too cute."
"I am not!"
Trap laid and baited, Roman steps neatly into it as Virgil leans forward. "Of course you are, Princey. That's why you're hiding your little red face. It's so I can't see how cute it is and tease you about it."
A truly wonderful smattering of flustered noises leaves him and Virgil chuckles.
"Don't worry, cutie, I won't hold it against you."
"Oh my god, what do you want?"
"Don't pout, cutie, I told you. I want to spend time with you." He laughs as Roman glares at him—or tries to, because it keeps going back to that pouty face and he covers it with his hands. "You hiding a smile under there?"
"No," he lies, pulling his leg up to hide it. Thankfully Remus doesn't catch it.
"This isn't proving me wrong, you know, about how cute you are."
Roman peeks one eye out to glare at him but he twiddles his fingers in a wave and oops, he's all flustered again.
"Aww, you're too easy, cutie."
"What do you want?"
"If you keep asking me that, sweetheart, you'll make me think you like hearing how much I want to spend time with you," he chuckles, "but I'll be nice."
"This is you being nice?"
"I did want you to do something for me," he continues, watching as Roman slowly looks up, face sobering as he calms down, sitting up on the couch, "hm?"
"What is it?"
Oh, you poor thing…He holds eye contact, shifting closer, until his face is right up next to Roman's. He lowers his voice to a rumble and smirks.
"Blush for me, Princey."
The poor dear does as bid, turning bright red in shock. He chuckles and tilts his head.
"Isn't that precious," he murmurs, "I wonder…if I ask you to squee for me, would you do that too?"
Roman splutters and Virgil's smile widens, leaning up to whisper in his ear.
"Squee, cutie," he whispers, "squee for me, Princey."
Roman covers his face, pulling himself up to curl into a little ball, letting out the most adorable little squeal he's ever heard.
"Maybe I should save that as your ringtone," he teases, before humming when Roman doesn't move at all, "don't get all shy on me now, cutie."
He doesn't react and Virgil frowns.
"Don't make me come and get you," he warns, before tugging on Roman's sleeve, "alright, you asked for it."
Sure enough, Roman yelps when one of Virgil's hands slides over his tummy and around to his side, hands flying down in an attempt to stop it. But by the time he realizes it's a trap, Virgil's settled on the couch next to him and pulled his legs into his lap, reaching out to cradle his face.
"There you are, cutie," he murmurs, "aren't you precious?"
Roman's eyes are wide and brimming with tears, sparkling in the light. Virgil hums and coos, bringing him closer and ruffling his hair.
"Hey, hey," he says softly as Roman tries to pull away and hide again, "don't run away from me. None of that, little dragon, you're adorable. No, no, shh-shh-shh, you are."
He brushes a thumb underneath Roman's eye to catch the tears that do manage to escape.
"Don't let all those mean voices tell you otherwise," he scolds gently, "do I need to shut them up for you?"
His hands twitch and clutch at Virgil's sleeve and he smiles, brushing a thumb over the other cheek.
"Aww, it's okay, little dragon," he coos, letting Roman wrap his arms around him, "it's okay. Was I being too mean and teasy?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I can't help it, you're so cute."
"Stop," Roman whines, lightly pushing at his chest, still pouting, "why aren't you doing this to Janus?"
Virgil frowns. "Okay, what's up with you thinking about me and Janus? This is the second time we've had to talk about this."
"You know!"
"I don't know, Roman, that's why I'm asking."
Roman lets out a frustrated noise, his hands flapping. "You know! You two—you're—you're—!"
"We're what?"
"I saw him kiss you!"
"You saw what?" When the fuck did Janus kiss me? Why don't I remember that?
"A-after the meeting about the restaurant, you two were talking and I didn't mean to eavesdrop, really, I didn't, I didn't know it was going to be such a private moment but I did and I saw—I saw him kiss you and I thought—I just thought—"
"Whoa, whoa, easy," Virgil says before Roman works himself up, rubbing his back, "you saw J kiss me on the cheek, yeah?"
"I'm sorry—"
"I'm not mad at you, Princey, look at me—" he cups Roman's little pouty face in his hands— "I'm not mad, okay? J kisses everybody on the cheek, he does it to Remus, he does it to Logan, he even does it to Patton when Patton lets him get close enough."
"He doesn't do it to me."
"Because he doesn't know if you're comfy with it, little dragon, that's all." Roman's face screws up into this frustrated little pout and goddamnit, it should be illegal to be this adorable. "Hey, you thought I had a crush on Janus, right? Or that Janus had a crush on me?"
His chest twinges when Roman looks up at him with those big sad eyes and he has to reach out and cuddle him.
"We're just friends," he murmurs, "I promise, little dragon, we're just friends. It's okay."
"…know that now."
"You just trying to help get us together, hm?" He feels Roman nod. "That's really sweet of you, little dragon."
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry, you were trying to look out for us, that's okay." Roman mumbles something. "What's that?"
"Was trying to look out for you."
"For me?"
Roman refuses to let him pull back, instead burying his chin into his shoulder. "You're always so nice to me. So I wanted…I thought…"
Oh. "You wanted to be nice to me too?"
"Mhm."
Fuck. Fuck, he's too cute. He's too cute, this should be outlawed, how am I supposed to deal with him being so fucking cute?
Before he can think better of it, he kisses Roman's shoulder.
Roman goes still.
"V-Virgil?"
"Yeah, little dragon?"
"Did you just—did you just…kiss me?"
"Yeah, I did," Virgil says softly, "was that okay?"
"Are—are we still just friends?"
"Do you want to be?" When Roman goes quiet, he carefully shifts them so he can see Roman's face. "Do you want to be just friends, Roman, or do you want more?"
"M-more is an option?"
"Yeah, sweetheart, more's an option, but we don't have to talk about it right now," he says quickly when the poor thing looks like he's about to explode, "we can do this later when you've cried a bit of this out, okay?"
"C-can we still cuddle?"
"Of course we can, Princey, c'mere." Roman tucks himself right back into Virgil's arms and he hums, nuzzling the crook of Roman's neck. "It's all gonna be okay, sweetheart, I promise."
"Don't," Roman croaks out, "don't give me hope."
"But I'm Hopes and Dreams, baby, that's my job. Okay, okay, that was mean, I'm sorry, I'll stop, I'm done, I promise."
"Virgil!"
"I know, I know. I'm finished, I swear." He gives Roman a proper squeeze to make up for it. "Just—I'm not giving you false hope, little dragon. We can talk about this, I promise."
"You better stay right here until we do," Roman orders in his little pouty voice, "or else I'll never forgive you."
"I won't move," he vows, lying down so Roman's on top of him, "see? You got me, little dragon."
"You're my horde now. No moving."
"No moving," he agrees, letting Roman shift until he's more comfortable, "you got it."
It takes a little longer than he'd like, but eventually Roman sags into him, lying down and letting himself actually breathe. Virgil keeps running his hands up and down, up and down, trying to coax him to sleep if he needs it. He's worn the poor thing out, he knows, and he only feels a little bad about it.
Okay, that's not true; he feels bad about making poor Roman worry and fret, he doesn't really feel bad for flustering him that much.
He's too adorable.
After a moment, though, he feels Roman tense again and he's about to soothe it away, say it's alright, he's not going anywhere, when he feels a little kiss on the side of his shoulder. He grins.
Yeah, they're gonna be just fine.
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#fic#sanders sides#roman sanders#virgil sanders#remus sanders#sympathetic remus#janus sanders#deceit sanders#sympathetic deceit#patton sanders#logan sanders#dragonbabbles
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Ohh! But wat if! like! the cult au Y/N had the biggest 'burned out ex child actor who was dragged into this' energy?
Like they once adored the stage as a child. It greatly helped them get over the sadness of moving away from their childhood home. It was always fun to get lost in a character, in a role, with the effort you put in, the praise they recieved from their teachers and peers was it's own reward. And with small roles at their local theater, they had their fun well into adulthood before "retiring" for good in pursuit of a job that could help pay for things arounnd around them.
But then they recieved the news from their frantic mom/parent, and really only came to this town out of moral obligation, and morbid curiosity.
No use puttin mom/other parent in danger. But this place is soo behind in ...well...a bunch of things. Guess they can put this new title to good use, and see if they can suggest some changes to make a nice walkable community, in a more, modern town.
Hell maybe something even better, with solar panels on every building, and carbon neutral packaging! The God wouldnt care about the Millennials' Solarpunk Socialist reality if its in a bumfuck town in the middle of nowhere, right?? And maybe a modified iPad for the new Savior...right????
Oh but of course everything's tinted with this 'Prophet Savior' nonsense. And ofc YN rolls their eyes at first and plays along, 'oh yes my magical powers said that...God said...that installing a bike lane would be soo cool and maybe some...Non-cult edited renditions of some magazines to read while I take a shit in my new bathroom would be cool too~'
It's nice to be doted on, and a bit amusing, by handsome boys and friendly townsfolk alike, so of course you agree to attend a special church sermon as the guest of honor. Hey! You can see some of your new "friends" in the crowd, Nick, Shaun, Ian, Jean--Bo's even here up on stage with them too! but he seems to be ina mood, maybe you'll talk to him after this silly ceremonial thing.
And then someone is brought from the crowd. The person confess their sins and it's a bit personal, and uncomfortable..but they just shift in their seat and play their role well. They can't even remember the words that leave their lips, fully expecting to sprinkle water on this person's forehead and all would be forgiven.... right?
It's kind of hard to remember anything else once Bo rips their throat out.
Between the shock as several beats of silence pass, and the horrified throat wrenching scream from them, I don't think YN remembers much after that, waking up in the founder's house surrounded by their concerned new "harem" of housemates
And YN, having had years of practice, schools their expression as best they can, even as their blood runs cold beneath their skin and their knuckles bleed white as they clench the bedsheet to avoid from lurching away from the hands of those tending to them. Like being cornered by wild animals.
Bo stands off to the side, more guilty for having offended them in some way than he was for the person he murdered in cold blood. Jean tsks slightly and says they all should've better prepared them instead honestly.
I don't think YN would remember the next few days as they're coddled and tended to, their panic rising as the reality settles in that this is a Cult..a Genuine, Bonafide Cult, and like a fool, they walked right to death's door.
They should've listened to their mom/other parent and ran.But they didn't. And now they're tended to gingerly by a cluster of different strangers daily, and a loyal gaurd dog who growls a warning at the overly friendly. It once made them snicker but now makes them stumble at the sight of his sharp teeth once coated in the blood of another.
They're paraded around town, casting flickering glances to Barry every once and a while, who follows behind the group like a shadow during their .."recovery" period...who sports a knowing look, and a small smile. They know there's nothing they can do to escape this hell.The longer they stay, the worse it gets.
This sleepy little town full of flower gardens and bordered by thick Woodlands, both kept rich and vibrant by the corpses that thrive in its soil.The casual demeanors of those who remain unaffected and blissful despite knowing so.Those that chatter excitedly about what new prophecies YN had in store next sermon.
The sinking gut-wrenching feeling that these peaceful town folk wouldn't bat an eye at murdering a false prophet, and if they are to survive, they have to play their role with efficiency.
It doesn't take much really, just keep constructing new things, and living a care-free life with your new lovers, and communing with a God you once didnt believe in.
well, that is until the 10th day, when it started to whisper things into their head at the dead of night. Laughing coldly at their attempts to rake their nails through the flesh of their scalp, to prevent themself from bashing their head in. As the ones who surround them, celebrate it, when they plea for help.
Smother the fear, smother the exhaustion, smother the feeling that you may be losing your mind, and maybe it won't even feel like pretending
____________
I apologize for any mistakes Im two steps away from falling asleep, but i hope it wasnt too out of character, cult nonny! I honestly even believed it was supposed to be an open ended question to both you and threadsun but i think i got a bit carried away, sorry! I'd love to hear u guys' thoughts!
🌌🐹
Ooooooh idk about Cult Anon but I definitely think the idea of the founder's child going along with things and not taking it seriously until Something Happens is definitely interesting!
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Playlist to Set the Moods
a long and sudden conversation about this story with my good friend (yuri, if you’re reading this, ily <3) made me realize just how many songs have inspired me to write certain details, have influenced my decisions in the creaiton of this project and/or have set me in the right mood for whatever scene i was coming up with or describing.
so, obviously, i compiled them all in a playlist! :D originally it was simply meant to be shared with my friend, since it was a subject we discussed, but then inspiration took over and ... well ... this is the labor of it.
i have yet to familiarize myself with spotify, so the playlist can be found on youtube right here! i wish everybody a pleasant time listening! ^^
ahead i will list all the songs in their respective order (+links) and offer a small explanation as to what mood they’re meant to represent - both for myself, so i won’t forget, and for you, dear readers <3
1. Curses - The Crane Wives: funky and jazzy song that sets the ambience of the world - light fantasy/medieval with a sprinkling of magic. it could also fit the positive feel of the witches, as well as offer a slight description of their habitat.
2. Afterglow - Ed Sheeran: how Filip is seen through Kaji’s eyes, when the pining is at its peak and after he has come to terms with his romantic feelings. could also be called Kaji’s pining theme song.
3. Heaven Knows - Five For Fighting: this song determined me to have Filip die at the end of the final battle for justice. however, i’m a weak-hearted person that has gotten way too attached to these characters. he won’t be dying, but he will be on the brick of death for the sake of Milo’s character arc apex. it’ll also help Kaji figure out his feelings run deeper than he thought! :D tldr; this song fits Filip’s almost death scene.
4. Queen of Nothing - The Crane Wives: Phala’s self-doubts and uncertainties about herself as a goddess and her (very important) role of the mender. this only applies to the beginning of their adventures - as the apostles train and begin being more in sync with their powers, Phala grows significantly more confident in her abilities and the subteam’s potential.
6. Sunshine - OneRepublic: Milo’s feel good theme song ^w^
5. The Moon Will Sing - The Crane Wives: Shreya and Maple’s relationship theme song. can especially be seen from Shreya’s view - she has been a merenary her whole life; somebody that has no home and is only appreciated for her prowess in battle, but Maple has chosen and loved her for herself.
after main6 get detected as magic users by the upper class elders, 2 of the best fighters across all A.G hqs get sent after them to hunt down their source or magic - if external, then to be destroyed, if internal, then detainment and further actions would be decided. one man and one woman; of which the man will be Phala’s love interest towards the end of the series. they’re not necessarily villains, but have been brought up with the conception that all magic wielders are evil. those 2 (currently still unnamed) have been in a relationship at some points, but broke off and remained partners in combat - they can;t really stand eachother though.
7. A Little Wicked - Valerie Broussard: brief explanation needed for this and some other songs ahead. read below then return. welcome back! this song has the perfect vibes for the woman. (ugh, i hate having unnamed characters)
8. Running with the Wolves (WolfWalkers Version) - AURORA: the official Main6 theme song! :D they’re a happy bunch of strangers turned friends that are loyal to eachother; similar to wolves! the song also feels adventurous, which is exactly the genre of my story ^^
9. Touch The Sky (From "Brave"/Soundtrack) - Julie Fowlis - perfect theme song for a training montage in which the apostles learn to use their powers. featuring lots of hilarious fails, endearing bonding moments between the protagonists and emotion-filled hugs of success.
10. Queendom (Harp Version) - AURORA: roll credits song in which ‘queendom’ refers to the Kingdom. presents the outcome of every character we’ve become aquainted with and their respective character arc’s resolution. must be noted that Filip will get a dedicated moment at minute 2:50 of the song in which he will kneel before his brother’s grave as the new king of his region.
12. Far From Home (The Raven) - Sam Tinnesz: Kaji’s theme song - more specifically his way of viewing the world before Filip saved him from himself. as an orphan, he never really had a home. that is, until Filip took him under his wing and became his brother (brotherhood was Kaji’s initial way of perceiving their relationship, way before he realized that his feelings run way deeper than a familial bond).
11. Sleeping Giants - The Crane Wives: the overall song represents the adventure theme of this story. the chorus (specifically the last one where "i feel something calling me" is repeated 4 times) depicts the 4 apostles each hearing their amulet for the first time and obtaining it! kudos to the crane wives for making up almost half my list. :D
13. Killing Butterflies - Lewis Blissett: the vibe-setting song of the man from the enemy duo (bruh, calling them ‘the man’ and ‘the woman is so flippin weird urghhhhhhh. let’s call them EW and EM as in enemy woman and enemy man). he might seem a bit of a psycho, but he’s mentally stable, i swear. ... well ... yeah, i don’t and won’t apologize for anything related to this man. i’ll make sure he deserves Phala by the end though, since Phala deserves only the best <3
14. Natural - ImagineDragons: Shreya’s theme baby! she’s a natural fighter, wanderer and -surprise- apostle! imagine dragons does her justice so well, my god.
15. Hell's Comin' with Me - PoorMansPoison: Main6 fighting song :D they might be a childish and bubbly squad in their leisure time, but when it’s time to get serious, i can assure you that they are professionals - at least, after they recieve their training ^^”.
16. HUSHH - AViVA: bit of a surprise with this one. Maple’s not a villainous character, being Piper’s sister and Shreya’s eventual lover and all, but don’t forget that she is a witch and has been on the run from humans her whole life. she has lost her sister to their hands and plenty of other witches from her colony. this turned her into a slightly cunning character, with (some) moments of dubious morality. feel like this song encapsulates her devious side pretty well.
18. High Horse - The Crane Wives: Filip’s song. he’s a high horse - a prince!, but he has a ‘heavy crown’ with all the burdens he must carry as a 2nd son to the throne and all the prejudices thrown his way for his seer nature. “we get what we deserve” just sounds like Filip a lot, also. poor man’s used to all those mistreatments, so bless Kaji’s soul for being the temperamental one in their relationship and not standing for others bullshit. (potty language, sorry!)
17. It Took Me By Surprise - Maria Mena: defines the toxic relationship between EW and EM, while it was a thing. it could also give a feel of their current team dynamic - they detest eachother but have eachother’s backs, hence they are a good combo on the battlefield.
19. Cosmic Love - florencemachine: not exactly sure what this might represent, but it gives me such a good feeling that i couldn’t not include it. it could be about a relationship. it could also be about Phala’s role as the mender of the subteam. kinda leaning towards it being Phala’s battle song, honestly, since she does kind of adore the galaxy, and it sounds celestial enough to fit a goddess.
20. Colors of the Wind - Judy Kuhn: Maple’s theme song. it mostly sums up her ordinary persona, as well as her witch nature and the aesthetics of it and the wilderness. the savage mention at the beginning refers to the humans’ preconceptions of witches.
(more to come)
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29+1 (Part One)
𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.
𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (taehyung x reader if you squint real hard)
𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin (diva!seokjin)
𝔴𝔠: 3.6k
𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: heavy use of alcohol as a coping mechanism, a plethora of sarcasm (please don’t be offended) and a sprinkle of softness (is that a warning?).
𝔞/𝔫: this sat in my unwritten folder since 2017 no lie. I wrote the premise and a singular paragraph at that time, then just gave up. I opened it a few days ago, got inspired again and this word vomit came out (heavily influenced by a midnight Zoom call with my friends). Ngl this was so much fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. This will probably be in three parts.
𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: I did not know that DailyHive is an actual online news source when writing. This work is purely fictional and has absolutely nothing to do with the real DailyHive.
part two
Your friends have a saying: After 29, nobody shares their age until they’ve accomplished something.
In the past, you didn’t understand it. What’s so bad about saying you’re 30 or you’re 32? That’s still a young age! Sure, you’re not exactly in your prime anymore but you’re not old, right?
So, you continue in your own wondrous world of naïveté until that fateful day at your class reunion. You had simply been walking around, minding your own business when you had been stopped by an old colleague.
“Hey, Y/N, right?” she waves you down.
You smile kindly, not even bothering to try and remember her name (you sucked at names, what could you say).
“Hey…you!” you chuckle lightly, “How have you been doing?”
An everyday question leading to catastrophic effects.
“Oh you know,” she says and rolls her eyes as if you truly did know, “I’ve just been out and about. Did I tell you though? I got married last year!” She holds out her hand in which a giant diamond adorns her finger.
“Wow!” you gasp, feigning interest. It’s not that you aren’t happy for her, but you are reminded of just how single you are currently. When was the last time you felt another human’s touch? Does kissing come back as easily as riding a bicycle?
“Hey!” she says suddenly, “I’m actually meeting with a couple of friends from our class. You should come join! I’m sure they’d be happy to see you again!”
You want to wave her off, but against your better judgment, you find yourself following in her footsteps and listening to her speak about wedding venues and honeymoon destinations.
“Oh my god!” another female voice filters in.
The “couple of friends” this old classmate had mentioned is in fact a fairly impressive size of twenty. This is also the third time the wedding announcement has been made.
“Last year?” the female continues, “Weren’t you young?”
Yes, you want to respond. Yes she was young. A full 365 days younger than she is now.
Your classmate, Sooyoung (or Kiko as she insists going by now) titters in front of you. “I mean, you can sort of say I’m a late bloomer. I got married when I was 31.”
Her words unintentionally cut into you. Here you are at 29 without a beau in sight. You take a fast swig of your beer and end up hitting the empty glass with a clink to your teeth. Nobody notices.
“Enough about me, however, how about you?”
“I started my own business actually. It’s been doing really well and it’s been a crazy mind. Imagine me, my own boss at only 33!”
You nervously join them when they suddenly laugh together.
“Hi, can I get another pint please? Actually add a tequila shot to that,” you whisper the last part to the waitress you had just stopped.
And that was how the rest of the night went. People asking one another what they had accomplished. Any moment in time after 30 would not be mentioned until somebody travelled to Uganda to build houses at 31 or another gave birth at the same age. Below 30, anything would be attributed to luck or in your case…
“What are you doing currently?” somebody asks you, “The little baby of our class.”
Swallowing your third tequila shot of the night, you wonder for the umpteenth time how you had become a part of this giant sharing circle. You wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse that you had graduated a little early and thus was younger than most of your peers.
“Well,” you start, “I’m currently working at DailyHive.”
“Ohh!” a man gushes. You recognize him as the once-upon-a-time science partner you used to cheat notes off of. “I use DailyHive nearly as much as Instagram these days. You guys cover everything from news to sports to fashion.”
You shrug. “Yeah. It’s, uh… it’s a pretty big company!”
“What are you doing there?”
Kiko-ex-Sooyoung hits the man teasingly on the shoulder. “Y/N is probably the Director of Marketing or something. Remember how she used to spend all class doodling in her notebook?”
“Or sleeping!” someone quips.
You don’t join in when they all laugh.
“I’m…an intern,” you say with as much pride as you can in a group of established professionals ranging from dermatologists to that one guy who had flown around the world as a TedTalk guest speaker.
A hushed silence befalls everyone.
“That’s…cool!” the same man encourages you, “Interns are totally rad! Everyone wants an intern spot these days.”
His girlfriend pats your arm, almost empathetically. “Yeah. I know a bunch of people who first start off as interns and then they shoot up the ladder quick enough. As long as you’re no longer an intern at 30, you’re golden!”
Once again, the entire group laughs as if she has said the most hilarious of jokes.
She composes herself and says to you, “Because after that, you should have accomplished something.”
Her words still ring in your ears as you sit at your desk this morning.
Yeah…something. All you need to do is accomplish something in the next three months before you are officially, 29 + 1.
Your fingers tap against your thighs silently while you observe the current debate that is occurring in the conference room. You barely have time to sweep the falling hair back behind your ear as your fingers ferociously fly across the keyboard to keep in track with the meeting.
Fei is arguing that the implement of a new search word system would boost users while Daniel says that it is a waste of resources. Instead, everything should be put into updating the entire system as a whole. You have long since lost track of their words as neither pertain to what you do as an intern.
“Enough,” the CEO of DailyHive holds up a hand. His one word causes the entire room to hush over – truly, the words of a god.
And that might as well be what he is. With his hair swept back and a lone tendril curling perfectly above his brow, Kim Seokjin is legitimately a walking god. Off his broad shoulders hang an expensive white linen suit bought with his pocket change and your yearly salary. A pair of sunglasses hangs in the V of the collared shirt dipping low enough to blur the lines between being fashionably professional and just downright sexy.
The snap of his fingers brings you back to the present.
He dramatically rolls his eyes and accepts that you are an incompetent minute-taker.
“I have to remember that the world just doesn’t move as fast as I do.”
- Quote: Rolling Stones 2019 Kim Seokjin.
Now if only he’d remember he had once said that.
He points at each of them with one finger, then swipes to the left. “Both of you, solve this outside. I don’t want to hear your voices any longer. You two from the marketing team, Ungroomed Stache and Acne Chin, create me a report if we are to implement Ms. Song’s idea. The two of you from…” he takes a pause here clearly having forgotten who his employees are, “The two of you do the same thing but for Mr. Hwang.”
The pair from accounting open their mouth to protest that they are in charge of only numbers, but they are ignored.
“All of you out now. Except you,” he points his finger directly at you, “Stay.”
Nobody utters a single word until they have all left and you are left alone with him. Standing before him with your hands folded nicely in front of you, you blink and wait.
He stares right back at you, picks up his coffee mug and drops it. The clatter of ceramic smashing against the ground causes a pause in the loud buzz outside the room. You know everybody’s focus has been shifted into the room.
“Do you want to kill me?” he drawls.
You take a long inhale. “No,” you say.
“No?” he repeats the word, “Well I think you do. Did you check this coffee before you brought it to me? I tasted cinnamon in it. You know how I’m allergic to cinnamon. Get me a new cup. And this mess, get somebody to clean it. I don’t want the smell of coffee in this room when I have my next meeting here in twenty. I’m taking a smoke a break.”
He stands up and brushes past you without saying anything else.
Nobody can be allergic to cinnamon. Besides if he had actually tasted cinnamon and was that sensitive, he would be dead. And good riddance to that.
Of course, you say none of this and wordlessly begin to pick up the broken ceramic pieces of the dead mug. The bustling outside the meeting room has returned back to its normal state of chaos. Seeing the ugly stain of coffee on the once pristine carpet causes you to swear beneath your breath.
“Who the fuck is allergic to cinnamon?” a new voice says, sliding up beside you.
The second god in DailyHive; the much nicer and evidently preferred Kim; Taehyung takes the mug pieces from you and drops it into the garbage bin.
Blessed with not only intelligence but devilishly model-like features, he is your desk buddy in the small space allotted for interns and your sole friend in the company.
“Tae,” you sigh with exasperation upon seeing your lifesaver, “What am I going to do about this stain? He’s going to return in fifteen and there’s no way I can get a coffee stain out of this expensive-ass carpet.”
Taehyung taps a long finger to his lips, leaves the room briefly, and returns with a roll of Bounty sheets and a can of Febreze. He promptly blots as much of the coffee off from the carpet then proceeds to pull the meeting table.
“C’mon, Y/N, don’t just stand there. Help me! Time is of the essence!”
You laugh and join him in moving the table so that one of the legs cover the stain 80% of the way. Once he is satisfied, he takes the Febreze and sprays until the whole room smells like “Hawaiian Aloha”.
“You’re welcome.” He gives an extravagant bow, the motion popping open the top button of his shirt to expose a surprisingly chiseled chest.
Fei returns back into the room holding a phone to her ear and a clipboard in her left hand. “What the hell? It smells like a Bath & Body Works in here. Intern, aren’t you supposed to be filing or something? Stop standing around and be useful.” She grips Taehyung’s arm and drags him out of the room. “Button up. This is a professional workplace.”
You give him a tiny wave as Taehyung is steered away by his girlfriend and back to the cubicles.
Taehyung may be your saviour at work, but outside, it cannot be denied that your brother is the true Fountain of Life.
A week has passed since the coffee incident (you suspect a cleaning personnel had found the stain and cleaned up after your improv as aforementioned stain can no longer be found), but Jimin still brings it up.
“I still can’t believe that he said he was allergic to cinnamon. I’ve never heard of such bullshit before,” your brother says over the phone. You can practically hear his eyeroll from across the world.
As a renowned ophthalmologist, you have not seen Jimin for close to a year as he has been initiating his new clinic, a flying eye hospital.
“You should hear his Starbucks order. I always feel like I’m ready to launch my next EP whenever I’m at the counter,” you say.
Jimin laughs. There is the muffled sounds of voices as his never-ending flow of patients have arrived for the day.
“I shouldn’t keep you,” you say upon hearing that, “You’re probably really busy.”
“No,” he says, “I’ve got a few minutes if you’ve got a few. I miss talking to my baby sister.”
“I’m not a baby anymore, Jiminie,” you say using the nickname he hated.
“Oh that’s right. Your birthday’s in a little under three months, right? My baby sister is turning the big three-oh.”
“God, don’t remind me.”
“Want me to come visit you?”
You contemplate the idea once, having not seen Jimin in quite a while.
“Only if you have time. But I feel like Mom and Dad would probably want to see you more. Speaking of which, um… How are Mom and Dad?”
“They’re good. I hear Dad is finally going to retire this year. He’s giving his practice to Kibum, you remember him? Mom will probably start pestering us about what to do for his retirement party.”
There is a pause.
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to say hi to them once in a while.”
You sigh. “And say what? Hey, it’s me. The child that ran away from home at 18? Yeah, I’m not a doctor like everybody else in the family but a 29 year old intern at a popular app company. Whassuuup?”
“Y/N, that’s not what I – ”
“It’s okay, Jimin. I’ve come to accept that not everybody is cut out to be a doctor. I just wish Mom and Dad could realize that.”
Jimin sighs on your behalf. There is the sound of a crying child coming through the earphone. “Well, your contract expires a few weeks after your birthday, right? Who knows, you might be the next Mark Zuckerberg.”
He has never explicitly inquired about your life plan and you know this is as much as he is willing to push without asking, “What’s next after this intern hiccup?” At least he had the decency to compare you to a controversial Internet entrepreneur.
The child is crying much louder now.
“Again with my birthday. But I’ll let you know,” is the only reply you can come up with at the moment. “Okay, brother, go forth and heal the blind. I bless thee in the name of the Holy Spirit, Son and Ghost.”
There is true laughter that rings from Jimin as he ends the call. “It’s Father, Son and Holy Ghost you dweeb. I love you sis.”
“You too.” You hang up first before he can add anything else.
With that, you enter into the 7am Starbucks queue and prepare yourself in running the first single of your long overdue EP.
Seokjin leans back in his chair, watching you from inside his office. Today he has chosen a black turtleneck and a brazen maroon-nearly purple suit jacket to complete the outfit. For once, there is an empty mug of coffee beside him and his morning headache has been appeased.
He knew he had given you an impossible task.
“Compile all the troubleshooting errors we have received since the launch of DailyHive. Organize it in a manner that allows me to identify the most prominent problem. Run it through whomever you please before giving it to me. I don’t need to waste my time correcting your mistakes.”
There is an amused smile that bubbles beneath his otherwise stoic features. He cannot deny that there is, might he dare say, a cute quality about you as you manually scan through the received concerns on your laptop dating back to the initial beta tests – the ones that were lost in a data crash and only backed up with unintelligible scribblings of previous interns.
The moment you had been introduced as the new intern, you had caught his eye. You are exquisitely mundane, and perhaps the reason you had even caught him the first time was due to solely to the fact that you were older than most interns – himself even. Nevertheless, you continue to present him small surprises in your tenacity and capability to tackle challenges.
“Mr. Kim.”
His intercom comes alive with the voice of his secretary.
Seokjin’s eyes do not leave you as he answers.
“Mr. Hwang is on line two. Would you like me to defer him to a later time if you are currently busy?”
Seokjin cannot help but sigh. Hwang Junho, his co-founder, while a genius in international business is also a notorious chatterbox and gossip. There is seldom a reason for Junho to call him except to relay the cover titles of E!Magazine.
“Did he mention a reason for calling?” Seokjin inquires.
His secretary seems to be reading from a note. “He says it’s to do with the company. Something he read from Cosmopolitan this morning.”
So not E! but another sister celebrity gossip blog. He checks his watch and duly notes that he certainly has no meetings scheduled until later in the afternoon where your report would be needed to run a preliminary analysis.
“Sir?”
“Yes, put him through. But tell him I’ve got only five minutes, so he’s better give me the Cliffnotes version,” Seokjin sighs again.
Before he can be connected, Seokjin quickly says, “What’s the name of that intern again?”
“Who?” his secretary asks, “We’ve hired four since the beginning of the year.”
“The one who keeps wanting to poison me.”
“I’m sorry, Sir?” she sounds concerned.
“The one who keeps forgetting that I despise cinnamon.”
There is no response.
“The older one. Spilled coffee a while ago but still has enough coordination to pull together a decent report.”
“Ah,” she says.
He waits patiently as she searches through the database, eventually giving him your name. He gives a slight pause and then says, “Good. Now patch me with Junho.”
There is a momentary buzz as the call becomes connected in which Seokjin turns over the syllables of your name wordlessly.
“Mr. Kim. The man of the hour. How are you, my brother?” Junho’s baritone fills the office in a manner of seconds.
Despite the little annoying quirks, Seokjin cannot help but smile when hearing the voice of his best friend.
“You’ve got three minutes, Junho.”
Junho grumbles. “That’s not my fault. You were the one still on the line with your secretary. Is it still Yerin? ‘Cuz I won’t blame you if that’s the case. Did I catch you doing some naughty phone sex during office hours?”
“Two.”
“Holy hell. Fine. It’s always business with you. That’s why the tabloids are always writing you as an uptight asshole.”
This shifts Seokjin’s attention to the phone. His name is seldomly mentioned except for the features in business columns. He prefers to stay out of the limelight.
“What?”
“Put your name on Google.”
Seokjin does as he is told.
There are millions of results, but the first few pages share the same headline. He clicks on the first one with a grimace.
“Kim Seokjin. Mr. Worldwide Handsome as noted by his fans, has recently sparked Internet outrage.”
A quick skim of the otherwise trashy article brought to the surface a summary: his last dating scandal had ended badly and the repercussions of blowing off a famous celebrity’s daughter had finally caught up with him. The Internet was calling him arrogant, narrow-minded, and even greedy.
“The young Chief Executive Officer of booming social media app DailyHive has been accused of using his relationship with actress XYZ to further his own business. Once he gained recognition from aforementioned relationship, he has cold-heartedly cast her away to pursue his next.”
“You’re calling me for this bullshit?” Seokjin scoffs.
Junho tuts his tongue loudly. “This is not bullshit. It’s affecting the image of your company. Do you think people want to download and support an app that is run by somebody who is being called cruel and dishonest? You’ve got to address this soon before it gets out of control. You’re lucky I have alerts set for these type of things. I caught it for you just in the nick of time.”
Seokjin inhales deeply.
“You’re also lucky that I’ve got the perfect solution in mind.”
“That is?”
“The Silver Gala,” Junho references the prestigious event.
The Silver Gala is hosted annually and attended by the largest celebrities as well as other wealthy investors and guests. Those in the social circle shared between Seokjin and Junho often yearned for tickets to attend events such as this, as they serve as excellent networking opportunities. Besides the above, such events are circled by reporters and writers of gossip columns to get the exclusive scoop on any eyebrow-raising rumours.
“The solution lies in such an event,” Junho continues, “You know how many people will be there. All you’ve got to do is show up with your average girl-next-door type and it’ll show how you’re actually really humble and down to earth. Kim Seokjin is perfectly capable of dating like any regular human being. He doesn’t use “love” or whatever to further his business. Love is the connection between two souls; two individuals who – ”
“Beep. Your time has run out Junho. I’ve got another meeting scheduled right this moment,” Seokjin interrupts.
“Dude, seriously. Think about it. You could bring Yerin. Everbody loves a good CEO and his secretary affair. And if that’s too juicy for you, I can introduce you to some girls. Or maybe we could go back to our university days and hit a bar, y’know?” Junho tries his best to persuade.
“Fuck!” you swear beneath your breath right as you walk into Kim Seokjin’s office. His door had been open and, in your excitement to show your completed report, you had dropped all the loose papers on the ground. Four hours of organization gone, just like that. You hope that at least Seokjin hasn’t heard or noticed you as he had been engrossed in his phone call.
Seokjin had in fact noticed you. He can’t help himself but follow the curvature of your bare shoulder as your bangs escape the hold of your scrunchie and sweep across your skin.
“Don’t worry, Junho, I’ve just thought about it,” he says with a smile.
#bts fanfic#kim seokjin#seokjin#jin#bts jin#bts seokjin#seokjin fanfic#bts imagine#bts scenario#seokjin imagine#seokjin scenario#ceo!seokjin#seokjin x reader#jin x reader#bts x reader#bts fluff#seokjin fluff#taehyung#jimin#hoseok#jungkook#yoongi#namjoon#fluff
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐫𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐫
a/n: she's backkkkkk with another fic for yelena. don't look at me y'all. also i went a little overboard with this one, but i love it so much and hope all of you do as well! seriously i'm super proud of this one. only tagging those who might be interested!
this is for @agirllovespancakes seven days no smut week (altho i'm probably late with this)! enjoy some soft love with a sprinkle of poetic bullshit.
this isn't fully edited or beta read so if there are mistakes then my bad.
playlist
summary: you met her at a bar. an enigma of a woman that held so much power in a single smile and in an instant you were captured. happily giving yourself over into a romance she offered.
word count: 5.6k
pairing: yelena belova x fem!reader
warnings: not explicit, cussing, angst, so much fluff its ridiculous, mentions of grief, kissing scandalous i know, cuddling, thievery of a motorcycle.
Go to a bar, they said.
It’ll be fun, they said.
What a bunch of fucking liars. You trusted your friends this time, let them know that you were bored with the mundane rituals of life and that you wanted to have fun. Yet there you were. An hour in, wearing your best outfit in your opinion, a glass of vodka in your hand - having been half finished already - and you were still alone. Utterly bored out of your mind.
The questions of going up to someone and talking to them had crossed your mind, but in all honesty you weren’t the best at actually making conversation. It’s not like you didn’t attempt it. Starting here and there with a stranger, only for it to fall short. The remnants of what could have been now left to hang over you like a cloud brewing for a storm.
So, for your safety you remained standing where you were. Trying to avoid the urge to sprint out of the building as fast as humanly possible. Listening as they played an odd song from what you guessed to be the seventies. Of course the bar had a rustic feel to it; the wooden bar top beneath you matched with the tables and booths, old pictures placed strategically on the walls. To give it a vintage feel.
Only in all the times you had been there you never actually heard them play music from the era they based the bar on. Never heard anything other than modern songs. The difference was nice, giving you a chance to focus on something else other than the fact that you were still alone. Psyching yourself for yet another failure.
“You look antsy.” The bartender set another glass in front of you - a second vodka that you didn’t need, but who were you to turn it down.
Smiling, you pushed the first, now empty glass towards him. “Just bored.”
“Ah. Well I would suggest you talk to me, but I don’t make good conversation.”
“Funny,” you replied, fighting the urge to pull a face when you sipped at the vodka. “I suck at it too.”
He shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect.” Pushing a martini across the bar towards a woman in blue, he turned back to you quickly. “I recommend dancing, but it’s an odd song to dance to.”
You couldn’t even recall the name of the song except you knew every word of it. One of the old ones that would play on every rock station nonstop until the stations were positive it was ingrained in everyone’s minds. Apparently it had worked. Denying the quality of the song was to go against all of rock ‘n’ roll, and so you enjoyed it as it played. The name of it however was still lost to you.
“American Pie,” he said, finally lighting up your brain until a look of recognition crossed your face.
“I couldn’t remember the name.”
Grabbing an empty wine glass he began to pour for someone standing beside you. “Apparently it was specially requested. Lady paid me fifty dollars for it.”
“No way!” you exclaimed, nearly choking on your vodka.
Who in their right mind would pay for this song to play? Except the real question wasn’t who it was, why.
It seemed that you would get your answer soon enough, because as soon as you asked he was pointing in their direction. A part of you didn’t wish to know; wondering if maybe you would be better off going home. Yet there was another part - smaller albeit and less wary - that wished to know. That hoped something would happen if you were to actually turn around and face them.
Curiosity got the best of you, and you turned fully expecting to see someone else. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting to see; what kind of person would pay to listen to this song. Only then you came to see her. A woman who could only be described as an enigma, someone who perfectly stood out amongst the crowd while also blending in. Almost as if you had to focus on her lest she disappear before your very eyes.
A ghost amongst the living, with enough life in her to keep others alive.
Blonde hair was tied in a slightly messy ponytail, green dress far too nice for this place, but that didn’t seem to matter. Not when she wore boots that looked to be straight off the shelves of an army surplus store. For all you knew they actually were. She seemed like the person to do just that, and you smiled at the thought of her stopping at an army store in that dress before coming here.
You wanted to call her beautiful, compliment her immediately on how she looked, yet you couldn’t find the motivation to actually go up to her. Couldn’t seem to move your legs, because they had gone immobile.
Only that didn’t matter. Not when her eyes roved the bar - a wary expression on her face - until they landed on you. Keeping you frozen in place as the song continued to play. The last parts coming to its final conclusion, bringing a smile to her face. And if you believed her to be beautiful before, you were awestruck at the sight before you. A woman so powerful that she seemed to radiate warmth; bring life to a room filled with people.
Forcing you to see her and nothing else.
“Why are you still standing here?” The bartender’s voice had you jumping slightly as you remembered he was still there.
Now it was your turn to shrug, the vodka a distraction from the way your body had lit up with joy at the sight of her smiling at you. “What are you talking about?”
“Her. The woman. She obviously wants to talk to you.”
“I-I don’t think so.” Another sip helped the buzz in your body spread. Similar to the warmth she brought forth in a way. “I can barely even start a conversation tonight, let alone keep one going.”
“But you like her.”
Opening your mouth you found yourself shutting it seconds later, because you had no response. Nothing to deny the way you couldn’t find any reason as to why you shouldn’t talk to her. After all she had smiled directly at you - hadn’t she? How could you turn down the opportunity to meet such a woman? To find out why she chose American Pie of all songs to listen to. And in a rush of confidence or utter stupidity, whichever one actually prompted you forward, you downed your drink. Feeling the burn sting all the way down to your stomach.
A small cheer came from the bartender as you began to walk through the crowd of people, fully aware that she had yet to look away from you. The smile, still in place. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was the drinks, or maybe it was simply her. This stranger in all her smiling beauty, a look that offered a memorable time as you continued on your way. The sounds of Don McLean keeping you from turning tail and running.
Years might have passed since you stepped away from that bar, because time slowed. One second stretching on endlessly until all that remained was you and her and the song that never ended. Except it eventually did end and by that time you were standing directly in front of her; a matching smile spreading across your lips.
The words were caught in your throat, an extreme inconvenience at a time like this, and a part of you wished for her to talk first. To say something to you, because maybe then there was a chance it would restore your speaking capabilities. Although with your track record tonight it didn’t seem like there was a chance.
That is until you opened your mouth.
“Why did you pay to listen to American Pie?” The question spilled out before you could even process the words, and suddenly you wished you could sink into the floor. Forget that you were a person who was let loose into the world to interact with humans as pretty as she was.
She laughed, throwing you off completely.
Was she laughing at you? Or maybe she just liked the question. At this point you couldn’t discern between the two anymore.
“It’s one of my favorites,” she replied, a thick accent accentuating her words. One you couldn’t recognize, but figured it would come to you eventually. If you could get your head out of the clouds for a moment.
“I like it too.” A realization you hadn’t come to until that moment.
She gestured behind you, eyes fixated on the bartender and for a second your heart stopped in your chest. Doubts filling your mind as you wondered if she had actually wanted to talk to you. She wouldn’t have smiled at you if she didn’t want to, but then again life had a way of knocking you down a few pegs every night.
“What did he say?” A look of confusion must have crossed your face. “To get you to come here. What did he say to convince you?”
To convince-
Oh.
The doubt was immediately pulled from your body. She actually wanted to talk to you and a sense of ease came over you. A feeling that had vanished the second you walked through the bar doors, and yet there was. Giving it back to you with only a few words.
“He told me that I should go for it,” you replied, trying not to fidget with your hands. You had no glass to hold onto, nothing to keep your mind from going a mile a minute.
“I would like to thank him.”
You liked her. Less than a minute of conversation and you immediately knew that she was someone who’d turn your life upside down. Who’d have you asking for as much as she would give you, because you wanted to know her. Wanted to know what made her tick, what made her smile. And maybe that was the rush of alcohol, the pull strangers had on one another at bars - an unknown mystery.
“I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”
Her laughter hit your ears and you had to resist the urge to fall in love with the sound, when in actuality you’d do anything to hear that sound again. It’s how you knew you were too far gone to return to a place before her. To forget she existed in the first place. Somehow within those few minutes she’d set her mark on your heart and nothing would be able to get rid of it.
Except you liked it.
“You looked bored.”
An absolute understatement. “I suck at talking to people tonight.”
“I don’t know about that.” She sipped at her drink, eyes lighting up with something you couldn’t quite make out. “You’re doing pretty well with me.”
“So far,” you said, the hint of a smile within your words. An offering of more than just this; more than two strangers in a bar.
Your heart fluttered when she seemed to catch onto what you meant. Her mind was sharper than even yours at this moment, because she was setting her drink down at a random table. Taking your hand in hers, she began to wordlessly lead you out of the crowded bar, determination in her step. It seemed that her presence alone had people shifting out of the way unconsciously. Giving her room to move wherever she pleased.
Powerful in her own special way that seemed to have you yearning to know more.
“Where are we going?” you asked, glancing behind you at the bar you had left behind. The music fading in the background as you finally stood outside with her, the night air refreshing compared to the smells in there.
She shrugged, never letting go of your hand. “It’s hard to talk there. Too loud. And you looked bored before you came up to me.”
“I was,” you replied softly, trying not to stare at her in the lowlight of the streetlight. Her eyes seemed to catch the yellowed light perfectly, until they nearly glowed.
The thought of her being an ethereal being had crossed your mind before even talking to her.
“So let’s find something fun to do.” She didn’t wait for a response, because she could already tell you on board. That you wanted to have fun rather than stand at a bar for who knows how many hours until resigning to go home. The unfulfilled hole in your chest only growing with every passing hour.
Maybe she was here to save you from that. Your own personal hero.
“What kind of fun?” you asked, trying not to trip over your feet with how fast she was walking. The echo of her boots hitting the cement below was the only sound you could hear in the night air.
Odd for a city that never sleeps.
She turned sharply, leading you into the empty street until you were no longer walking on the sidewalk. Normally you’d pull back, head where it was safe, but you couldn’t move away from her. Didn’t want to. In this case you wanted to know where she was taking you, what she found fun other than a semi crowded bar that played one of her favorite songs. The only thing you seemed to know about her.
You hadn’t even gotten her name, and yet that wasn’t something you needed to know. Not a time like this.
“Where are you from?” you asked when she slowed her walk. Giving you a chance to fall next to her, hand clasped tightly within hers.
“Russia.”
That helped answer your questions about her accent earlier, and suddenly you knew one more thing about her.
“That’s really far from New York,” you replied.
Another shrug, another small moment of silence until she opened her mouth. Almost as if she had to contemplate how much she was willing to give you about herself. How far she was willing to open herself up to a stranger. Except that was just it - you were a stranger and nothing else.
“My sister used to live here.”
You began to ask where she lived, if she liked it here, but a car horn cut you off. The blaring sound enough to have you yelping in shock as she yanked you out of the way and back onto the sidewalk. A shout of words spilling from her lips that you assumed weren’t the nicest once translated.
“Are you okay?”
Nodding you quickly recovered from the sudden jolt in your system. “I didn’t get hit so I’m good.”
You attempted to keep the situation light, not wanting to make a big deal out of nearly being hit. After all, it was New York. You were bound to nearly get hit by a car more times than you could count whilst living in this city. Which is why you were thankful she laughed, the dark humor something she clearly enjoyed.
“Definitely not the fun I talked about,” she replied.
“I would hope not.”
She turned, glancing at the place behind you. A small coffee shop that was surprisingly still open at two in the morning. “Caffeine?”
You were nodding even before she opened the door. The smells of coffee, suddenly far more delicious than you remember them being. That might have just been from the rush of adrenaline coursing through your system, but you still could go for a hot cup of coffee. And it seemed that she was the same way. Choosing a table near the window she sat in the chair, draping her black jacket over the back of it and making herself comfortable.
A sight you could get used to.
“What can I get you two?” The waitress seemed to have come out of nowhere, pulling you away from your own thoughts.
“One coffee and a warm brownie please.”
She nodded, gesturing towards you. “I’ll have the same.”
It took a moment for the silence to settle over the both of you. Comforting in it’s own way, because there was no uncomfortable need to speak to one another. You found it strange that it happened this quickly. That you wanted to remain in her company - an unknown feeling beginning to stir in your chest the longer she watched you. Her eyes almost reflected the light of the shop.
“So what’s your story?” you asked, leaning forward until your chin was propped on a hand - giving her your full attention.
Yet another smile flashed across her lips, eyes cast down at the table before they met yours once more. It made you wonder - would she tell you the truth? Reveal another part of herself for you, or would she continue on. Simply give you a story that she had created in her mind to tell strangers that would walk out of her life once the sun came up over the city skyline.
“My parents live - well lived - in Ohio,” she replied. “My sister…” she paused, glancing out the window at the empty street, now darkened by a broken street lamp. “She’s - she’s not with me anymore.”
Your heart twisted violently in your chest - the feeling not unfamiliar to you, but still prominent because you saw the way her eyes shifted. How the light from before was pushed back, only to be replaced by an overwhelming amount of pain. Enough to have you wondering what happened to her. What caused her to hold this much agony in her body? But most of all - how could you help her take it away?
Help her find the light again.
“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, reaching a hand out to cover hers, intertwining your fingers together to hopefully convey that you were there for her. That you weren’t there to hurt her.
“Why are you apologizing?”
You froze, glancing at her to see if there was any malice in her eyes. Nothing but the same pain - the same look that had you ready to drag her into your arms for comfort.
“Because she was important to you - and - I get the feeling that - no one’s ever said sorry for your loss to you before.”
Now it was her turn to freeze, her other hand clenching into a fist. Face showing an expression that you didn’t think you’d ever see a person like her wear. Almost as if she’d been caught like a deer in the headlights, because you could see the pain she tried to keep beneath the surface. Could see through her façade of falsity she presented to the rest of the world. A mask she placed over her face every morning - hoping that it was indestructible.
“Thank you,” she replied - voice thick with the tears she refused to let fall.
You didn’t say anything else, didn’t pressure her to tell you more than what you already knew, and instead rubbed your thumb across her palm. A small show of how you felt - how fast she had you gripped in her palms and you’d have it no other way. Would rather have this than the boring routine that had awaited you once you stepped foot out of the bar.
“Here’s your coffee.”
Thanking the waitress you began to sip at the drink, feeling as the warmth spread through you slowly. Keeping you from shivering against the cold air conditioning of the shop - something you found that you didn’t mind all that much. Although you had a feeling the warmth felt similar to the way she made you feel. Safe.
“This isn’t quite the fun I was promising,” she said, stirring sugar into her coffee.
You shook your head. “It’s still fun.”
“I don’t think you’re sure.”
Really it was the most fun you’d had in quite some time. Talking to someone who you felt a connection with, someone who didn’t mind that you couldn’t hold a conversation as well as you thought. A person like her. Only it got you wondering - what was her version of fun? What did she wish to do if this wasn’t it?
“What did you have in mind?” you asked, taking a bite of your brownie.
The answer was far more than you realized, but you couldn’t deny the pull she had over you. A power that had you already having the word yes on the tip of your tongue, even as a smile - that could only be described as the epitome of mischief - spread across her lips. You were in for a night of trouble with this woman, but something told you to stay in your seat. To stick around for the inevitable fun that you’d never forget.
A rev of an engine outside had your head swiveling to stare out the window beside you. Eyes latching onto the sight of a man getting off a bike that you’d call a monster; only to swing his leg off and head across the street. Leaving the machine behind him; a mistake on his part, but he wouldn’t have known that. Unless he was looking into the eyes of her - watching as an even bigger smile showed up. The light slowly seeped back into her face until she was practically jumping out of her chair.
“Want to go for a ride?”
You spluttered out something incoherent, coming to the realization that she wasn’t joking. “Are you serious?” you asked.
She simply nodded, getting up quickly and tossing down money for the waitress. A tip that was even larger than the bill itself. Except you didn’t have time to comprehend that, because she was already outside - tossing her jacket back on as she knelt to take a look at the bike.
Had you accidentally gotten yourself into something that was far over your head? Something that would lead to you being arrested immediately for what was about to take place. You thought about remaining in the shop. Finishing your coffee as she followed through with her plan, but you couldn’t stop the flutter of adrenaline. Couldn’t ignore the curiosity.
“Fuck it,” you mumbled - throwing a thank you towards the waitress as you pushed out the door. Standing beside the bike that was now rumbling under her. “How did you do that?”
She shrugged, seeming to toss the question away from her. Perhaps she actually was. “Practice with my job.”
What kind of job allowed her the opportunity to hotwire vehicles?
The question was never asked, because you were already on the back of the bike, arms wrapped tightly around her as she brought up the kickstand. A laugh echoing in the night air the second she began to drive forward. Meanwhile you were ready to scream, never having been on a motorcycle before. It wasn’t too bad. The feeling was a lot like how you thought it would be.
Only it was the fact that you were with her doing this. You were holding onto her in order not to fall off - your own laughter beginning to bounce off the buildings. A feeling of freedom unlike any other now held in the palm of your hands, causing you to wonder if it was merely from her or the action of doing this with her.
No answer was given to you, because she made a sharp turn, heading onto a street filled with people, skidding to a stop when she hit traffic.
“Fuck,” you shouted, trying not to fall of the bike as it slid to the side a bit.
“Are you okay?” she asked over her shoulder, foot planted on the ground - the bike tilting slightly and forcing you to put your foot beside hers.
You nodded, ridding yourself of the nerves that had begun to make you shake. “Didn’t expect that.”
“We have to go around.”
The bike was set back into place before you could catch yourself. The scrambling of movement as you tried to right your body had her laughing under her breath - as if this happened all the time. You couldn’t quite comprehend how this was so natural. How you felt like you spent more time with her than you actually did, knew her for far longer than this. And who knows. Maybe you did.
Perhaps your souls had known each other for years. Eons even. Perhaps that was the reason why you felt okay resting your head against her shoulder, the rumbling of the bike a calming lull to the situation at hand. Maybe it was this natural, because it was meant to happen.
You were meant to meet - one way or another.
The notion was ridiculous to you - knowing someone before meeting them. Yet there it was. The visceral image of this reality, of how you physically reacted to her. Far more than the pull of lust, far more than friendship. More than - anything.
And that’s the thought that terrified you. Scared you to your fucking core, because you didn’t know how to react to that if it was true. You didn’t even know her name yet and here you were, riding on the back of a bike she stole, experiencing the lights and sounds of New York City in the morning hours where the sun had yet to peek it’s head out from the other side of the world.
You didn’t know what time it was, couldn’t tell if the morning was coming sooner than either of you wanted, but you didn’t care. Didn’t wish for any of this to end. So, you let her continue to drive until you were too far to keep going - forcing her to turn back. The ending of the drive, now coming to a close.
Everything in you wished you could keep going. Willed the sun to remain as far as away as possible, only there was a limited amount of time left. Because even you knew this would be it. You could imagine however many scenarios you wanted, but it would never be reality, would never come true.
She had her life and you had yours, and you figured that no matter how hard you tried to mix the two, they were water and oil.
Complete opposites in every way.
“You can stop here,” you said softly, seeing your apartment building in the distance. It would be easier to stop it here and now, say your goodbyes while the night still lasted.
Only as you got off the bike - searching for your keys - she joined you. Took your hand in hers once more and began to follow you up to your home. To the place you didn’t think she’d ever enter; yet who were you to deny her? Who were you to say no to this woman who had turned your world on its axis within a few hours.
She glanced around the living room, taking in the sight of this small place you called home, before following you to the bedroom. A feeling of comfort washing over you at seeing her standing there. Watching you as you began to shift about and make room for her to do what she wished. Spend the night. Talk until the sun comes up. You’d take whatever she’d give you in a heartbeat - just to spend a little more time with her.
“I don’t mean to intrude,” she mumbled, relenting to the way you tugged off her jacket, seeing you lay it gently on the chair in the corner of your room.
“You’re not.”
And now it was your turn to take her hand - pulling her lightly towards the bed. Crawling underneath the covers as he began to strip off her boots, joining you soon after. A look of disbelief on her face; her hands gripping onto yours, because this was new for her. Being welcomed into a bed that gave way to comfort. That held a person like you in it - someone she wished she hadn’t grown so attached to in such a short span of time.
“So.” You shifted, letting her move closer until her forehead nearly pressed against yours. “Have you been back to Ohio yet?”
A huffed out laugh left her lips, eyes shutting as she ran her nose against yours. “I have.”
“And how did it go?” you whispered.
“I said hello to my sister.” You heard the break in her voice, saw the heartbreak cross her features before it was gone again. Replaced by that mask she loved to wear. A way to block out the world from her grief, from her anguish.
Drawing her closer, you pressed a kiss to her cheek, feeling the familiar twist of your heart at seeing her this way. So, you attempted to bring her back into the light. Tried to lighten her heart a bit with the last bit of joy that the night held within its grasp. Offering it to the both of you for one final moment.
“We stole a motorcycle,” you mumbled against her skin, smiling at the memories.
She laughed, cupping your cheek and bringing your forehead back to hers. “I’ll return it in the morning.”
“I’d leave an apology note.”
Her eyebrow raised, until she was back to smiling; back to being the woman you’d met at the bar. “You’re something else,” she whispered.
“I hope that’s a good thing.”
Nodding she pressed her lips against yours in a kiss that had the breath leaving your lungs. Had you clutching her closer, eyes falling shut at the feeling of her so close. Of how soft her lips were, how she dug her fingers slightly into your cheek to keep you in place. You wanted to scream at the universe for bringing her to you so late and taking her just as quickly. Wanted to beg anyone who’d listen to keep her with you - to keep your heart intact, because one night wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
Her tongue swiped at your bottom lip, nose nudging yours as he kissed you deeper. Tasting the coffee on your tongue and feeling her heart stutter in her chest. Something she didn’t think she’d ever have. It threw her off her axis, had her reeling and dragging you closer for more. Kissing you longer to hopefully prolong this feeling of euphoria, of feeling safer than she had in years.
“Wow,” you breathed out when she pulled away, running her thumb along your bottom lip.
“It’s a very good thing.”
Smiling you felt her arms wrap around you, until it was hard to tell where you began and she ended. A hug that had you falling into her body heat - giving yourself over to the drowsy feeling that began to tug at the corners of your mind. Only there was one more thing you needed to know about her. A final fact that would cement the memory of her in your mind.
An era of a woman that only lasted for one night.
“What’s your name?” you asked softly, running your fingers through her hair that she’d let out of the ponytail.
Her eyes fell to your other hand that was twisted with hers, pressed unconsciously to her heart, and that seemed to be the answer for her. The certainty she needed to open another door.
“Yelena,” she whispered.
A kiss was pressed to her lips again, eyes falling shut due to the exhaustion. Something you tried to fight off for as long as possible.
“That’s a beautiful name.” You felt it - the shift in your body as it sunk into the confines of sleep, your mind giving way to it’s pull. “Yelena,” you whispered one last time, pressing your nose into her neck before you fell asleep.
You knew she’d be gone before you woke up; could feel the emptiness in your room before you opened your eyes. Yet that didn’t make you any less disappointed. One night. That’s all you managed to steal and while it had been enough at the time - it wasn’t enough now. You wished for more. Wanted to see her again, but that’s not the reality you were living in.
So, you got out of bed and stumbled your way to the kitchen. Finding a cup of coffee from the shop earlier set on your kitchen table. A note placed directly under it that you knew immediately to be from her. The curved writing, delicate in it’s own way - matching perfectly to the woman who had strength that would put steel to shame.
I wish there was more time. I’m sorry.
You smiled through the sting of tears, feeling your heart give way to the pain that had overcome you the second you realized she had left. Gone down her own path just as you would do, and maybe one day she’d find her way back here. Find herself back in the warmth of your arms.
It wasn’t much to hold onto, but nevertheless you did it. Clutched onto the apology note like it was her as you turned to get dressed. Preparing to return back to your job - back to a life that didn’t include Yelena in it. Only she would always be there. Buried underneath your skin - deep in your heart - forever marked in your soul.
Without thinking you switched on the old fashioned radio that sat on a shelf near your couch, hearing the sounds of a song that would never remain the same. Coincidental in every way - shifting the darkened cloud that hung over you to pure sunlight. You hummed to the tune, dancing softly to the kitchen where you would make breakfast, drink the coffee she left you, and remember how her lips felt on yours.
Remembering her.
The woman who had asked for American Pie out of all the songs in the world.
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬:
@ezrasarm @the-purity-pen @cap-n-stuff @littlebopper96
#yelena belova x fem!reader#yelena belova x you#yelena belova x y/n#yelena belova#yelena belova fluff#yelena belova angst#yelena belova one shot#marvel fic#black widow#my writing#y'allllllll#this is so heartbreaking#but also just the right amount of fluff#i hope you enjoy it!
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Love Has a Learning Curve: Part IV (x reader)
Summary: Reader visits Spencer at the university and finds that her old insecurities aren’t as dead as she thought.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Category: hurt/comfort, fluff
Warnings/Includes: implied smut, jealous!reader, insecure!reader, vague mentions of previous emotional/mental abuse (Owen), mentions of cheating (Owen)
Word count: 3.2k
a/n: Owen’s really a piece of shit, huh?
Series Masterlist
———
“Could I come see you teach?”
Spencer looked up from his desk, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It might be kind of boring. It’s a 100 level Intro to Profiling course.”
She peered over the side of the couch, closing her book. “Well, I don’t know anything about profiling, so an intro course would be right up my alley, don’t you think? And if you’re teaching it, I can guarantee it won’t be boring.”
He scrunched his nose in the way he sometimes did and clicked the cap on his pen once, twice, three times. “If you, um— if you really want to.”
She considered him for a moment before pushing herself up off the couch, coming around it to cross to his desk, perching herself on the corner. “You’ve seen me teach a bunch of times,” she said, knocking their knees together. “It’s only fair.”
He set his pen down and leaned back in his office chair, avoiding her eyes. She pulled her leg back, regretting her decision to ask. “It was just an idea. I don’t have to if you don’t want.”
As she moved to stand, he stopped her with a hand on her knee. “It’s not that. I don’t not want you to,” he clarified. He turned his chair to face her fully, peering up at her with a flush on his cheeks. “I just— I don’t know. You’re such a natural. I’m… awkward. Sometimes they just— stare at me.”
Y/N scoffed. “I’m sure you’re not awkward.” She twirled one of the curls falling into his face around her finger, releasing it into a soft ringlet. “But seriously, if you don’t want me to come, it’s fine.”
He rolled his chair closer and ran his hands up the tops of her thighs. “I do want you to. Really.”
He sat up straighter, craning his neck up towards her, and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She leaned down to meet his lips, and his hands wandered up to grasp at her hips. She laughed as he pulled her off the desk and practically into his lap, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She let him take it a little further, his hands traveling under her shirt and up over her back.
When she pulled back to catch her breath, his dazed expression had her heart pounding. Any insecurity that managed to weasel its way into her psyche evaporated every time he looked at her. She ran a soft finger over the bridge of his nose. “Can you take a break?”
“Mhm,” he hummed, standing up and dragging her toward the bedroom with only a little too much enthusiasm.
…
“Okay, can I help you with anything?” Y/N asked, setting her bag down on the lecture podium.
“Actually, yeah. Could you, um— write these topic notes,” he pulled out his notebook and flipped it open, “on that half of the board?”
“You got it, professor.” She accepted the notebook, turning to the board and uncapping the dry erase marker.
They worked quietly together, scrawling his notes across the white board, shoulders brushing comfortably together every so often. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him finish his side, capping the marker and stepping back to watch her.
“This is much faster with two people. I should hire you.”
“You couldn’t afford my hourly rate,” she teased, leaning down a bit to copy the last bullet point.
“Is there a boyfriend discount?” he asked, a soft fingertip tracing down her spine.
She laughed as she capped the marker and set it in the tray, turning to face him and tilting her head in consideration. “Maybe we could work something out.”
He brought his hands to her hips, dug his fingers in, and pulled her closer. “Yeah?” He brushed his lips over hers and stepped forward, nearly pressing her back against the board.
“Mmhmm,” she agreed, pressing a slow kiss to his mouth. She used her hands on his tummy to push him back a little. “But I charge double if you smudge it.”
“Fair.” He smiled and kissed her again, this time bringing his hands up to cradle her face.
“As much as I’d love to kiss you forever,” she mumbled against his lips, “your students are going to be here any minute.”
He groaned and leaned his forehead against hers, and she laughed at his petulance. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, and then I’ll sit up in the back. You won’t even know I’m here.”
He pulled back with a sigh. “You being here is all I’m going to think about.”
She kissed his nose and stepped around him to grab her bag. “I’ll try my best not to distract you.” She made her way off the lecture platform and up the aisle, turning back to ask, “Oh, office hours are right after class?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed, leaning against the lecture podium. “1:00 to 2:00. The quad is beautiful this time of year, and there’s a coffee shop if you wanted to hang out there.”
…
After her bathroom break, she re-entered the lecture hall as quietly as possible, slipping into the last row of seats and setting her bag down on the desk in front of her. The room was more than two thirds full, with students crammed into the first few rows and then sparsely sprinkled throughout the back half of the room. But she only had eyes for him.
She’d seen him, kissed him less than ten minutes ago, and yet here she was— blushing like a schoolgirl and resisting the urge to pull at her collar.
Even from the back row, she could see the way his suit coat stretched across his broad shoulders, the way the button at the bottom of his cardigan didn’t quite reach, the way his pants pulled taut across his thighs. She’d seen him pick the outfit out of his closet this morning, watched him put it on, even helped him with the knot of the tie. She shouldn’t realistically be this rattled by the sight of him.
But something about the way he set his shoulders back a little, the way his arm moved underneath the fabric as he scrawled an additional note across the board, the way he turned and put his hands in his pockets and waited quietly for the class to settle— felt different.
“We’ve got a lot to cover today. Let’s get started.”
She didn’t pull her collar, but she did remove her jacket— she was suddenly so, so hot, practically sweating— and draped it across the back of the chair. He caught her eye, gave her a small smile, and then launched into a lecture about the foundations of building victimology.
Just as she suspected, he was an absolute natural. Unbelievably knowledgeable of course, but also incredibly enthusiastic and positively captivating. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
And neither, it seemed, could the class. She scolded herself for the train of thought— of course they’re looking at him, he’s their professor. But he was right when he’d said that they... stare at him. The class was mostly young women, although the ogling seemed to cross gender lines.
She couldn’t blame them. He answered questions with ease and gave witty responses to the devil’s advocate types. His enthusiasm was endearing and charming as hell. And, of course, he looked damn good doing it.
With just over ten minutes left of class, she gathered her jacket and bag, standing quietly and moving into the aisle. She caught his eye as she headed for the door, slightly reassured when she saw a flash of concern in his eyes. She smiled and made a sipping gesture, and he nodded minutely and continued with his lecture.
…
Fifteen minutes later, she was on her way back down the hallway toward his office, a coffee in each hand. When she turned the corner at 12:57, she was stunned to see that a line was already forming.
“You gotta be kidding me,” she muttered, approaching the crowd of undergraduates.
One particularly perky coed stood directly in front of his door, and Y/N cleared her throat. When the girl turned, she held up the coffees and gestured to the door. “I’m so sorry. I— I’m just gonna drop this off. I’ll just be one minute.”
The girl took a small step back, barely allowing Y/N to squeeze through the door left slightly ajar. It creaked slightly as she stepped through it, and Spencer’s head lifted from where he was hunched over his desk.
“Hey!” He stood and shuffled around the side of the desk.
“Hi.” She forced a smile. “Sorry, I won’t keep you, I just— thought you might like a pick-me-up,” she said, holding out the cup to him.
He sighed with relief. “You’re a mind reader.” He accepted the coffee cup with a grateful smile. She moved to leave, and he lightly snagged her wrist. “Hey.” He slowly pulled her back toward the desk, his eyes darting down to her mouth.
She hummed, and he leaned forward to kiss her, moved his hand up to cup her cheek in his warm palm. He sighed into her mouth and gently tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth before pressing a quick peck to it. “Thank you.” He pressed a final kiss to her mouth with chapstick-soft lips. “I’ll see you in an hour?”
“Mhm,” she smiled again, a little more genuinely. “See you then, professor.”
She slipped back through the door, avoiding the curious eyes of the crowd. The hallway felt tight and constricting, and she was grateful for the way the fresh air hit her as she pushed through the door back out into the quad.
She found an empty seat on a bench and set her coffee and bag down, shuffling through the latter to find her book. She flipped open to her bookmark, sure that she could finish at least two chapters during his office hour. As she attempted to read, however, her mind could not stop turning over the image of Spencer being admired by fifty young, attractive coeds.
She read the same sentence five times before closing her book with a huff. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, focusing on a deep inhalation and a long exhale. She carefully packed her book back into her bag, opting instead to sip her coffee and watch the bustle of the quad.
It wasn’t that she was jealous, exactly. Jealousy wasn’t the right word. She trusted Spencer wholeheartedly. He was honest and kind, and he made it abundantly clear how much he was attracted to her.
She sighed shakily and closed her eyes against the unexpected tears that she could feel brimming just below the surface. It wasn’t jealousy. It was simply the insecurity that had always been there. Well, not always, she supposed, but long enough. Ten years. Owen had been out of her life for nearly half that time, but the mental scars he’d left her with would probably never fully heal.
She was twenty one years old when they first started dating, and twenty six by the time he ended it. Five years of her life spent with a man who had conditioned her to believe that she had nothing to offer. Her work was insignificant. Her family was low-class. Her friends were irritating. Her laugh was obnoxious. She was immature and loud and annoying and daft. She should be grateful that he was interested in her despite these flaws.
As if he hadn’t made all of that clear enough, he’d ended their relationship by cheating on her— not once, not twice, but consistently for nearly a year. And it seemed that almost everyone had known about it… except for her. That had been the most humiliating part; he’d had this woman in their bed, and she’d been completely unaware. She had cooked for him, attended his work events, slept beside him, subjected herself to his wrath, and never even considered that he could be with someone else.
It took years for her to recover and rebuild. Years before she was ready to date again. It required her to construct a foundation of independence and self-love that she’d never had. And nearly five years later, she finally felt beautiful and strong and worthy.
So why was her mind suddenly replaying every horrid thing Owen had ever said to her? Spencer was nothing like Owen. Spencer was kind, loving, and supportive. He was brilliant, talented, and accomplished.
She pressed her lips together and swiped a hand under her eye, catching the lone tear that had managed to escape. That was exactly the problem. Spencer was all those wonderful things, and suddenly she couldn’t understand why he wanted her.
She pulled out her phone to check the time, huffing out a breath as she realized she’d spent nearly an hour dredging up old wounds. She closed her eyes and repeated her daily affirmation. I am powerful, and I am capable. I respect and honor my mind and my body. I am worthy, and I am enough. I love myself fully, just as I am.
Now she just needed to believe it.
She gathered her things, finishing up the last sips of her coffee before scoping out a garbage can. She tossed her empty cup in the bin on her way back to the building. As she opened the door, the blast of air conditioning cooled her sweaty skin. She stopped by the bathroom to splash her face with cool water, taking barely a moment to look at herself under the harsh fluorescent lights.
She made her way down the hallway, turning the corner to see that there were still three students in line outside Spencer’s office. She checked the time to see that it was technically five minutes past office hours. She dropped quietly into one of the two chairs across the hallway from his door.
The other chair was occupied by a student, quite clearly waiting for Spencer, judging by the heavy sigh that accompanied his glance up at the office door. Y/N almost laughed at the way he aggressively checked his watch, tapping his foot rapidly on the floor.
“Is it— um. Is it always like this?” She gestured to Spencer’s door.
The tapping stopped, and the kid turned to her with another sigh. “Every. Goddamn. Time.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, I get it. I do. But, man. I’m just trying to ask about the structure of the final. This is the third week in a row that I’ve been here and I still haven’t seen him.” He checked his watch again and then ran a hand over his face. “And now I gotta get to my next class. I’m gonna have to leave early next week to camp out,” he joked.
He stood and gathered his things, and Y/N did laugh a little then. “Good luck.”
He waved and headed off down the hallway, and Y/N turned back to see a girl leaving out through Spencer’s half-open door, looking positively dreamy. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes as the next girl stepped through the door.
She waited another twenty minutes for the final two students to finish their visits. When the last student made her way out the door and down the hall, Y/N stood and smoothed down the skirt of her dress. She crossed the hallway and peered into his office, knocking on the door frame.
Spencer raised his head with a panicked look, his face softening into relief when he saw it was her. “Hey. Close the door,” he begged.
Y/N stepped into his office and closed the door quietly behind her. She finally took a look around the space— fairly small but tastefully decorated. The wall across from her was one enormous bookcase, filled to capacity, of course. Light filtered in from a single window, and his mahogany desk sat on the far wall, accompanied by a wing back leather office chair. Behind his desk was a low shelf lined with a globe, some other trinkets, and a plethora of picture frames.
“Sorry that took so long.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know why my office hours are always so busy.”
She hummed, crossing to the gigantic bookshelf. “No?”
“No,” he confirmed exasperatedly. “No one else has that many students at their office hours. I asked.”
She laughed a little. “You asked?”
“Well, yeah.” He drew his brows together. “I don’t know if my syllabus is confusing, or if I’m— not clear enough in my lectures, maybe?” He dragged both hands through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “But there are always so many questions, and I mean— there are no stupid questions, but…” He sighed. “Sometimes the questions are stupid.”
She did laugh at that, full and loud. “Well, if my professors looked like Dr. Spencer Reid, I imagine I’d come up with a litany of questions, too. Stupid or otherwise.”
He was quiet, and she ran her finger along the book she was studying rather intently. She felt him moving toward her more than heard it, felt his eyes on her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, instead pretending to peruse the titles in front of her, books full of theories that she’d never be able to understand.
“Are you— are you jealous?” he asked incredulously.
“No,” she defended, a little too quickly and voice a little too high.
“It’s okay if you are. Jealousy is— it’s a very normal human emotion.” He cleared his throat. “It’s, um— it’s kind of hot, actually.”
She rolled her eyes, but his confession made her feel a little bit better. He put a hand on her waist to turn her to face him, and she could feel her cheeks burning— hoped he couldn’t see it. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes, instead staring at a spot on the wall behind his head.
“But you know you have no reason to be, right?” He cupped a gentle hand under her chin, finally brought her eyes to his. “Why would I be interested in girls when I already have a woman?”
When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “A woman who brings me coffee, and buys gifts for my fish, and helps me make PowerPoints, and goes to fancy dinners at Le Chateau LaMontagne.”
Her lips twitched into the start of a smile, and he brought his hands down to lace their fingers together. “Who forgives me when I mess up, and lets me cry on her shoulder at 3:00am, and helps me be a better person.”
She sniffed but tried to lighten the mood. “She sounds pretty great.”
“She is great. She’s remarkable.” He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I love you.”
And there was that look again. Spencer looked at her like she’d hung the moon and the stars and every single celestial body in the galaxy. Like the answer to every question was contained within her atoms. It was almost enough to have her believing it, too. Maybe someday she would.
She squeezed his hand. “I love you, too.” For now, that was enough.
———
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