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pheonixgrave · 10 months

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Try Me (18+)

Since people seemed to dig my last one, heres another AstarionxTav fic!!

Warnings: Smut with feeling, shy Tav, first times, corruption, mildly sex repulsed Astarion, smut because that's how I cope

Rest was desperately needed. They were all exhausted. The day's activities had left them dirty, spent, and bloodied. They even set up their tents in silence, silently trudging along. Tav laid out her bedroll, barely managing to shrug off her leather armour before collapsing face first onto her pillow. Maybe she shouldn’t have let Astarion feed off her the night before. It always took a lot out of her but nothing a good night's rest couldn’t fix. Besides, it does feel rather good. Well, in the moment at least. It might not be the romance she always dreamed about but it was…nice.

He wasn’t exactly nice. But he took care of her. They were both new to this. And after having the conversation about “wanting this to be real,” they had been taking their time. A kiss goodnight here. Soft whispers about ‘later’ there. Tav wouldn’t lie, she missed him. She missed being wrapped around him. She missed the magic in his fingers. She groaned and turned on her side. Being patient is the worst. She knew she wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. Her body was in desperate need of some kind of release.

But out here? She had to sit and wait until everyone else went to sleep before even thinking about anything like that. She pulled her blanket over her shoulders and tried to rest with her mind focusing squarely on the vampire spawn and his, how did he say it? Full portfolio?

Astarion watched the elf from a distance. He sighed before heading into his tent. He wasn’t used to taking things slow. Hells, he wasn’t even sure what slow meant. He only knew she wasn’t a target. He didn’t have it in him to use her. And now? Now he was scared. Scared of what might happen. Scared of the tadpoles. Scared of what happens after. This feeling, this fear of losing her scared him almost as much as the idea of Cazador did. Regardless, he asked to slow things down. To not just be a sexual relationship. To be something more.

But Gods, he missed her.

Tav seemed okay with a gentle touch here and again. But it wasn’t as satisfying as having her tighten around him. He sighed, realizing how quickly his mind turned to more unbecoming thoughts. But that’s who he is, right? A creature of hedonistic pleasure. Might as well make himself comfortable.

It didn’t take long for everyone else to fall asleep. Tav quietly undid the knots in her trousers before snaking her hand southward. She’s never done this before. She hadn’t really known what felt good until Astarion showed her. Before the nautiloid, she had been in her ivory tower for so long that she’d never had a chance to be seen in such a way. Her fingers were inexperienced and clumsy. Sure, it felt nice. But no matter how gently she circled her clit, it didn’t get her anywhere. All she felt was more frustration. And the more frustrated she got, the less nice it felt.

“By the Gods above,” she muttered before fixing her trousers and sitting up. It pained her that the solution to her problem was less than a few meters away. With a newfound resolve-and not knowing entirely what she was going to do when she got there-she marched her way towards Astarion’s tent. Once she reached the opening, she froze. Didn’t he say he wanted to take things slow? What in the Hells is she doing here? So he could get her off? Gods, maybe she wasn’t cut out for this.

In the midst of her overthinking, the rogue inside heard her shifting on her feet. He had already cleaned up. The tension in his shoulders wasn’t nearly as bad and the feelings of self hatred were only minimal this time. Truly a win for him. He got out of his bedroll to see what brought her here.

The moment they made eye contact, he could see she was near tears. “Darling?” He didn’t know if he should reach for her or brush her off. “Whatever is the matter?”

Tav looked at the ground, “I have to ask you something.”

“What is it?” She didn’t flinch at the harshness of his words. She was, after all, in the wrong.

“May I come in?” She wasn’t making eye contact and her hands were in front of her. Astarion wasn’t sure if he had ever seen her like this before. She was confident, cocky even. But this? This wasn’t like anything he had seen from her before. She sounded so…small.

“O-of course,” he stuttered, ushering her inside.

She walked in, quickly but somehow still dragging her feet. Once inside, she stood on the opposite side of the tent, quickly pacing back and forth. “Astarion,” her voice was calmer than her actions, “I’ve never-we haven’t…” She sighed before standing still to face him.

“Darling? You’re acting rather odd at the moment. Is everything all right?”

“No!” She gasped out, “I mean, everything is never fine what with everything else going on. But it is fine at the current moment.”

“Then why are you running about like a lunatic?” The vampire spawn was more concerned now, The tension in his back had returned. Had someone hurt her?

She sighed, “Let me start over.”

“By all means,” he gestured towards her.

“You’ve told me quite a bit about your history. Because of that, you thought it best to take things easy. Courting essentially.” A pit of dread filled his stomach. This is where she tells him it’s over. This is where she tells him she wants nothing to do with him because of it. “And I am enjoying it! Do not, for a moment, think that I am not loving every second of it. But when we started, it was just us rolling around in the grass, right?” He nodded, praying to whomever was listening that this wasn’t going where he thought it was. “Right, well, you’re amazing at it.”

“Did you come here in the middle of the night simply to tell me how good I am in bed?”

“No! Not quite,” She ran her hands through her hair. “Before you, I had never done anything like that before. I had never even thought of doing anything like that before.”

“Alright,” he stood with his arms crossed. He wasn’t entirely sure where she was going with all of this but the feeling of dread was spreading through the rest of his body.

“And that means that I had also never done anything like that to myself, either.” She swallowed, looking at the ground. “And I’ve tried so hard recently. I didn’t want to say anything, truly. Because I don’t want you to think that I only think of you in that way because I do love you.”

His world stopped for a moment. She loved him? The vampire spawn with a master in Baldur’s Gate? The feeling of dread didn’t necessarily go away. A part of him tried to deny what she had just said as incessant rambling. But, a part of him hoped and prayed that it was true.

That someone as incredible as Tav could love him.

“And I would never want to push you into something you would be less than comfortable with. But I need help. I don’t know how to do that on my own. Astarion, I need your help. I don’t know who else I could ask or even trust with this.”

Astarion shook his thoughts from his head. The fact that she did say she loves him was not something she realized she said. He cleared his throat, “Are you asking me how to play with yourself?”

Tav looked up at him with those glossy eyes and nodded. Sheepish was not a word anyone would use to describe her. But it did warm his cold heart just a little that she was trusting him to see this side of her. He took a moment to just look at her. She had taken her hair down. Those blonde waves only came to her shoulders. The scar on her lip that she wouldn’t speak about was trembling ever so slightly. Her arms were crossed under her chest, unknowingly pushing her breasts up. The freckles on her face were almost hidden by the blush in her cheeks. Tears were welling up in her eyes. She looked beautiful.

Astarion didn’t say anything. He simply walked over to his bedroll and sat. He grabbed her hand, enjoying the new calluses on them. They weren’t like this when they met. They were soft and oh so delicate. He pulled her onto his lap and settled her between his legs. Pulling her back to him, he gently untied the knots in her trousers.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Of course I don’t have to, my dear. But how can I stand idly by while you’re struggling so much? Take them off.” He truly didn’t mind. He does sometimes forget that she is more inexperienced than most virgins. He’s surprised she lasted this long before cracking just a little.

She managed to shimmy off her trousers and her underclothes before settling back against him. He spread her legs over his, keeping his touches gentle this time.

“Give me your hands,” he reached for hers. He put his hands over hers, laying his chin on her shoulder. “You have to be patient.” He used her own hands to massage her breasts underneath her tunic. Her little gasps made him smirk. “When you’re by yourself, you’ll have to be quiet. You wouldn’t want Wyll or Halsin to hear you, would you?” He slowly dragged her hands down her navel towards that sweet spot between her legs.

She shakes her head, “No, I-I don’t think I would.” Her breathing was already getting heavy.

“Wouldn’t want to make them jealous, would you?” He used her fingers to gather some of the wetness of her cunt. “I imagine Gale would be rather upset if he knew how much you enjoyed this.”

“W-what do you mean?” He was tracing patterns now. Lazily enjoying how easy it was to feel her tremble in his arms.

“Oh, my love, it’s hard not to notice how they look at you. How everyone looks at you. They already want you. Dear, sweet Tav. If only they knew.” He practically purred, sending chills down her spine.

“Astarion-”

“If only they knew how desperate for release you are. So needy and willing. I wonder what depravity goes on in your head all day to get you this wet before anyone’s touched you.”

She came so easily for him. Head thrown back on his shoulder, body shaking against his. He then did something he had never done before. He just held her. Wrapping his arms around her, he let her ride out the aftershocks of her release.

Her words played on repeat in his head. “I do love you.” Something so small, so inconsequential. At least, it used to be. Love had always been a trick. A death trap. Fake.

“Astarion?” She whispered, barely loud enough to hear.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Can I help-” she swallowed, “can I take care of you?” He let her wiggle out of his grip. She turned to face him. “I want to take care of you.”

“How do you intend to do so?” Tav loved how his voice dropped when they were like this. It made her feel like she had the same effect on him that he had on her. With shaky hands, she put them on his chest and kissed him. It was a gentle kiss, one that held far more than just passion. With her hands still shaking, she undid the ties on his blouse. Opening it just a bit more. She wanted to see him. To see all of him.

She looked at him with those big blue eyes, unsure of herself. With a deep breath, she went to the ties on his trousers. “I think-” another swallow, “With my mouth?”

If he wasn’t so hard, he might have laughed at her uncertainty. He might have teased her for her innocence. But once she took his cock into her hand, all those thoughts went out the window. She was on her knees before him, gently starting to stroke him. WIthout any instruction, she started licking the tip. He groaned, “You found one of Shadowheart’s books, I take it?”

Her movements stalled, her ears going red. “Possibly.” Before he could think of a response, she took the head into her mouth. She tried sucking gently before he laced his hands in her hair. He wasn’t pushing, just simply holding.

“Relax, my love. I know you can take me deeper.” His voice was deeper. Turning her eyes towards his face, she saw how enraptured he was. She tried relaxing her throat. She wanted to take him deeper. Wanted him to feel good. She managed about halfway before gagging. “Slowly, don’t try to take more than you can.”

She was drooling. The book she read didn’t mention drooling. She was worried it might be gross but he didn’t seem to mind. “That’s it, darling, make a mess for me.” She moaned and took him out of her mouth for a moment to look up at him and breathe. He smiled at her. “You look so sweet like this.” He was out of breath. It’s never felt like this before. He’s never enjoyed it this much before.

She went right back to it. Trying to take whatever she could in her mouth and getting the rest with her hands. Her jaw was starting to ache but his moans were music to her ears. “If you keep going like this, I won’t last much longer.”

She went just a little faster. “Darling-” the grip on her hair tightened. She could feel him pulse on her tongue. With a gasp, he finished. She swallowed him down to his base, just letting him use her mouth. She stayed there for a moment before Astarion gave a gentle tug of her hair. His cum tasted strange. The book described it as salty and heady. But his had an almost metallic tang to it. She swallowed as much as she could. She raised her head to meet his.

Gods above, she was beautiful. Astarion saw the tear tracks on her face, the cum sitting on the corner of her mouth. It took his breath away. She was truly something else.

“Was that okay?” She practically whispered to him.

He let out a breathy laugh, “You did wonderfully, my love.” He pulled her up, tucking himself back in his trousers. He reached and handed her hers.

She grabbed them and stood. Slipping them back on, she turned to face him, “Can I-”

“Of course,” he reached for her. Pulling her back down next to him. He started to adjust so she was next to him but she shook her head. “What is it?”

“I want to hold you, if that’s alright.” He was taken aback by this. He was still barely used to holding her hand by the fire. He didn’t say anything but rolled to his side. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. “Goodnight, Astarion.” She placed a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

“Goodnight, darling.”

#astarion #astarion smut #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #fem!tav #not my gif

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she-who-the-river-could-not-hold · 1 year

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Rambling March Updates

A little bit of a fun update for this month and moving forward, since I’ve been feeling a shift in how I approach my creative work (and well, everything else too) and I feel like organizing my thoughts somewhere. It’s technically the 2nd of March, but after a mini vacation post half-marathon, I definitely feel like it’s a valid bookend to semi start at. I’m in my usual “time to overhaul my life and plans” mood so it’s fitting for that as well, like a spring cleaning for the mind!

Writing Updates:

I’m about halfway through my celebration oneshot, which is a Bellarke AU based on the winning tropes from my survey that I ran during my follower celebration. So in a sense it’s a collaborative fic which is pretty fun! I’m liking it so far, though I do feel a bit rusty writing the Bellarke again after taking a bit of a break.

If you somehow missed my excessive reblogs, I finished my longest fic ever last month (hence another writing break)! It was for Stranger Things/Hellcheer (Eddie x Chrissy) and ended up clocking in at just under 80k words. Pretty astounding and I haven’t really processed how long it is. I feel like I need to reread it just to bask in the accomplishment and to also remember what I wrote lol.

Organizing the new month means updating my word count calendar, and with it I’ll probably spend some time reworking some outlining and WIP plans. I still like most of my WIPs that are unfinished, though one or two might get axed and abandoned. But the ones I want to finish deserve a polishing up and fixed outlines so I feel more confident getting back into them! And of course, organizing some new fic ideas I have and seeing if I can prep myself into making them shorter, easier projects for the main reason I’m about to share!

The biggest reason I want to spend time narrowing down my approach and what I want to write in terms of fanfic is that I’ve finally confirmed to myself that I want to write my own original novel. The idea started bouncing around in my head and I tried to ignore. Thought about it a little longer, told my husband about it, and he enthusiastically insisted that I legitimately consider writing it. And now I can’t stop thinking about it, so I’m going to give it a go! I can’t let myself think about any goals beyond writing it, but I am excited to see how that goal can fit and how I can push myself with it and hopefully actually write it.

Design/Visual Creative Updates:

I do want to eventually finish my Stranger Things episode gif sets. I find them incredibly relaxing to make and a nice little visual stimulation break!

More episode posters such as this one are also something on the back burner. Mainly because I’m also considering expanding my efforts in an online shop and I think it would be cool to include them! A part of that is organizing the categories of work I want to do, as well as the very tedious element of figuring out a name for the shop so that I feel comfortable sharing it across platforms. Hopefully updates on that will come down the line by the summer!

In non-fandom thoughts, I desperately need to update my graphic design portfolio and take new headshots. It’s driving me bananas at how much I’ve stalled on that so that needs to be a priority

I’m determined to learn how to book bind this year and turn my own fics into physical copies (also a nice tie in for my own potential novel). We’ll see how that goes––it’ll be added to my long list of physical creative projects I want to get into this year!

I’ve negotiated my current contract to being a four day work week, so I’m excited to see my schedule start to form in a way that I can maximize my time and work on more personal projects!

However all of this comes on the back of that my husband and I are officially looking to move to a new state and city! Which means there’s a buzzing amount of stress just consistently in my mind right now, which will most definitely multiple over time as we actually have to complete the process. That means I’ll probably put a lot of this all on pause later this month and into April, but I also think that moving to a bit of a slower paced lifestyle is also going to be really good for both of our goals moving forward. Very exciting and very scary at the same time as we look to start a new chapter in our lives!

Onward to updating Notion and hopefully getting some good work in today! Happy almost spring!

#kathryn chats

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innocentlymacabre · 1 year

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In the Eye of the Beholder

Part 4/5 • Part 3

Aditya Singh and his husband are killed. Writhing in the pain from his own wound and his husband’s screams, Aditya melts into death’s welcoming embrace, desperate to never have to tolerate anything that vile ever again. Unfortunately, powerful people have something else in mind. Aditya saw something he wasn’t meant to - something no one was meant to. Wrong place, wrong time, but missteps cannot go unpunished.

DAY 3 (continued)

Twelve-fifteen rolled around, and Aditya saw Matthew head for King’s Cross. His thoughts during the journey were predictable – a muddle of confusion, a hint of fright, and a heavy helping of curiosity. But amidst it all, was something else. Something that confused Aditya, something he couldn’t quite make sense of. Yet there it was all the same – a thin, streaking line of golden hope, cutting through the rest of the jumble. It fantastically punctuated his view of the tube seat opposite Matthew, ironically highlighting a skull scrawled in black sharpie.

He reliably arrived at Yellowfield in thirty minutes and Matthew got off. A ten-minute walk later, Matthew had made it to Number 4 Hogback Lane, but things weren’t as either one of Aditya or Matthew had expected. The house clearly hadn’t been used for a number of years. Creepers had taken over the front walls and the sides were damp and crumbling. Aditya was confused and felt it in Matthew too. The former’s field of view became entirely tainted a dark purple.

Matthew walked up to the front door nonetheless and immediately saw that something was amiss. Aditya didn’t understand it himself, but he felt Matthew think it. He watched Matthew look all around the porch for that little something that bothered him. When he found nothing by simply examining it, he dipped into the inner pocket of his coat and put on some gloves. He moved his hand steadily across the door, looking for anything out of the ordinary. When it came up clean, he moved on to the rest of the front wall. He repeated with the right side and the window on it and then finally found what he was looking for on the left. A lose brick, ever so slightly too small for the gap. Aditya would never have seen it for himself and even now had trouble differentiating it from its neighbours.

Matthew got a pocketknife out and opened its flattest edge. He slid it under the brick and pressed down, sliding it out simultaneously. A piece of paper, just as nondescript as the one that came in the post, fell to the floor.

THERE’S A SCRAPYARD TWO BLOCKS TO THE RIGHT. MEET ME THERE, MR MUNNERLYN.

If Aditya wasn’t already interested, this would have done the trick.

As promised, Matthew came upon a scrapyard two blocks later. The scene in front of them was a bit like something out of a movie or a book, perhaps even one that Aditya would have written himself. The scrapyard was littered with broken down cars, rusty metal tubes, and other small bits of metal. An old XJ stood a little way off – some might have called it a vintage. Aditya himself never understood what made something “vintage”.

A man in a black suit leaned on the side of the car. He seemed wholly relaxed, and even a little bit bored. Another man stood off the back of the car looking every bit as tense as the first was relaxed. Aditya guessed he was the guard, which would make the man leaning on the car the one who sent the letter.

Aditya was impressed and, admittedly, a little scared – even though he knew he himself wasn’t in any danger. He didn’t recognise the man at all, but it was clear he was looking at the man who had ordered his death. He wondered if he wanted to recognise him at all, feeling as though that would have only scared him even more.

“Hello, Mr Munnerlyn. I see you figured out my little puzzle.”

Matthew nodded. “What was the point of all of that, by the way?” He tried to affect a similarly unconcerned tone, but Aditya knew better.

“It’s simple, Mr Munnerlyn. I need someone who, along with the rest of your portfolio (which we’ll be getting to in a moment), can notice the small things. Can figure out, just by looking at someone, if there’s something off about them. Can find a brick just a little smaller than all the others in a wall covered with moss.”

Matthew chuckled curtly. “There’s one thing bothering me though. You keep calling me Mr Munnerlyn and that’s all well and good, but I can’t help but feel as if this is a bit lopsided.”

“You can call me Finney. Sebastian Finney.”

“That’s not your real name, is it?”

“It’s real enough. Besides, what is of concern here, is you, Matthew. You’re ex-MI6. Don’t bother trying to figure out who told me. I can assure you it’s none of the names on that list I can all but see you crossing people off of.” Finney stopped leaning on the car and started pacing. “You were doing well there, Matthew. Several commendations and not a single infraction on your record. But then a dishonourable discharge?”

(Wow, he told me he left the service because he needed a change of scenery. Had enough of all that for one lifetime. Even had a reference and everything.)

(I suppose that was forged though. Easy enough to fix that sort of thing up, really.)

“That’s not of concern, Sebastian.” Matthew laced his name with a tinge of provocation, and Finney got the message and backed off.

“Well played. But I must ask – why do you work as a driver, Matthew?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s a bit hard finding a job in this country when the only recognition the government will give you would make things worse.” Matthew then put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the card that Finney had sent him in the mail. He held it up for him to see.

“You said you wanted to talk. I’m assuming it wasn’t just about the circumstances of my employment.”

“We could talk about your niece and nephew, if you like. Wouldn’t you like them home more often than just in between terms? Anne would be starting college soon too, wouldn’t she?”

Matthew ran forward and grabbed Finney by the collar, determined to punch the smug grin off his face, but the guard intervened and pulled him off. Aditya felt the anger coursing through Matthew’s thoughts and his view of the world was suddenly soaked in a deep red.

Still struggling in the guard’s arms, Matthew spat out, “What the fuck do you know about those kids? You so much as glance at them and I’ll put you through so much fucking pain you’ll be begging for death.”

Aditya’s world became darker, as if blood had already been drawn. He had never seen Matthew like this and was getting scared even though there was no threat to him. Finney though, looked calm as ever. He readjusted his tie and dusted off his suit, then spoke in a voice just as collected as before.

“I assure you, Mr Munnerlyn, no harm will come to those children. My particular line of work may not care much for the law, but I do have principles. I was merely showing my hand.”

Matthew eased up a bit and the guard let him go. He straightened up and Finney continued talking. “You see, I am in the business of information. It’s my job to know everything about everyone I meet. Now, coming to the subject of this particular meeting. I didn’t call upon the circumstances of your current employment in vain, Mr Munnerlyn. They are, in fact, the subject of this meeting. As you may or may not know, one of your employers, Aditya Singh, has been shadowing one of the officers on the local police force as a part of his research for his next book. Unfortunately, he was present when the police discovered something rather damning about someone very powerful. Naturally, he wants Aditya – and his husband – removed immediately.”

(Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. They assured me nothing would happen to me. They made me sign NDAs. KURT DOESN’T EVEN KNOW ANYTHING.)

“Who might this someone be?”

“That’s none of your concern, Mr Munnerlyn. You only have to concern yourself with the offer I’m presenting you with. Eight thousand more on top of the two I’ve already given you – you can keep that irrespective of your decision, by the way; do with it what you like – and, if all works out, a job in my organisation. Put that government training to some use.”

“And what organisation might that be?”

“You ask a lot of questions, Mr Munnerlyn. That could get a man killed in my line of work.”

“I prefer to know who I’d be working for.”

Finney clicked his tongue before replying. “Hoffman Tressler’s. Now, that will be all, Mr Munnerlyn. You have twenty-four hours to reply to my offer. I hope you choose wisely.” Finny handed Matthew his card, then drove off with his guard, leaving Matthew to debate the matter for himself.

Over the next twenty-four hours Aditya couldn’t make any sense of his thoughts whatsoever. There were no discernible emotions and the world was permanently tinted some strange mashup of every colour there was. Not that it mattered – Aditya knew his final decision. So, it came as no surprise to him when he bought a burner phone from Freddie the same night and texted Finney’s number two words.

I'm in

He got a reply almost immediately.

Good. Bring the bodies where we met once the job is done.

Matthew didn’t bother replying. He clicked the phone shut and went to sleep. Aditya wasn’t tired, but he felt compelled to sleep too so he obliged.

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foxymoxynoona · 3 years

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Ashtoreth

Ok, I had told Tae_ree on ao3 that I was inspired by her story Cam Girl back in the day to barf out a little cam girl story of my own, which I then immediately abandoned. I looked and I wrote this on July 20, 2020. It's not a full story arc or anything, just a little snippet I abandoned BUT I had forgotten that actually this was a stepping stone to writing Amended and Meadow, as you'll see from some themes I repurposed. I thought I'd share even though this isn't really a complete story because I think it can be interesting to see how inspiration and ideas morph over time into something completely different.

Content warnings for this: nsfw, 18+ , cam girl, voyeurism, masturbation, I don't actually know anything about cam girls and I didn't bother to learn since this was just a little writing exercise, so there ya go...

Tattoo Artist!JK x Camgirl!Reader

He didn’t watch much. Well, he watched plenty of porn, but Jungkook didn’t follow live camgirls because seeing the show live made him feel… awkward. Nervous. It felt so intimate, to have a girl talking live to the camera, to be able to type in the chat and have her notice your comment. It made it feel too much like a living, breathing person --not that he didn’t think women in porn were real! But… it was an image he was watching. Something a woman had cultivated, edited, decided to share. A live camgirl was performing in a different way and…

Well, he just felt guiltier watching camgirls. So he didn’t watch them much. Maybe he’d tune in if there was one on, and then he’d feel too ashamed of his own… earnestness. Live cam girls were a level of intimacy that… that was cruel. That he wanted. Camgirls reminded him too clearly of what he didn’t have in real life, and that made him feel ashamed and pathetic and broken. And so he’d leave almost as soon as he started watching and go find some safe, static porn.

But there was one. Ashtoreth. He couldn’t resist her. He was pathetic, weak for this woman, and wound up making an account --which he never did-- just so he could subscribe and get alerts whenever she scheduled a show. Even just the act of getting an alert made him stiffen, made the blood start to trickle south, because he knew what was coming.

He didn’t know what Ashtoreth’s face looked like. And she often wore colored wigs, so whatever he did see wasn't identifiable She had a pretty average body, neither the fit nor voluptuous extremes that tended to dominate the suggested videos. She had a somewhat soft belly and hips and thighs. She had those stripes on the inside of her thighs, too. And a beautiful tattoo along her hip that he desperately wanted to see in closer detail. Her tits weren’t huge, but soft and squeezable and real. Sometimes she presented herself bare to the camera, other times tidy, and sometimes fully grown out. She said she felt like it was a matter of principle to create videos with natural hair growth, even if she preferred to be better kept because she often got horny and juicy throughout the day and it was easier for her to keep clean. That had fucked Jungkook up for a little while. It didn’t help that she had the prettiest pussy he had ever seen, beautifully shaped and colored, and even just tuning in to see how much he’d be able to see was worth the effort. And he liked the idea that she had principles like that.

In fact, he liked all the things she talked about. She was very personable, in a way that was horribly endearing. She played video games, which had actually been what struck him first; that was how he’d found her, because he’d seen that a camgirl was playing Overwatch with a vibrating egg in, and so he’d tuned in, and she was good, and it meant the next time he’d played, it had made him too hard to concentrate, remembering the way she’d whined and moaned and cum just after she’d won her match. Fucking dream girl.

She took suggestions of things to do from high donors, within reason. He wasn’t the only one that liked when she got sort of passionate and fixated on something interesting she’d learned and wanted to share. She spoke several languages and alternated between them --English and Spanish. She claimed to speak more Korean, but never spoke that on her cams, and Jungkook was far too shy to ask her to. It would do him in, but it was also his fucking dream. Did she really speak Korean? It seemed so unusual for a foreigner.

So he liked the things she spoke about too, he liked when she shared her interests, even though it made him feel guiltier because he knew he was looking for the wrong sorts of connections in porn. A cam girl was just performing. It was possible everything she talked about was fake. She was trying to earn money, after all. It funded the toys she bought, the pretty lingerie. People funded those things, all the men and women who tuned in to watch her tease herself into a whining mess and then cum all over the sheets. She’d taught herself to squirt on camera, even giggling at how unreliable it was. She’d just started doing some anal and admitted it made her nervous. She was just so sweet and sexy at the same time, and it all fed into this horrible, horrible fixation Jungkook had that she was his dream girl, even though he knew it wasn’t true and it wasn’t real.

And then at the end of a live, she’d curled up on her side, flushed, panting a little, hand lazily stroking her hip, and said in Korean, “By the way, I thought I’d mention here because my stats say I have a lot of viewers from Asia, but I’m looking for a tattoo artist and it’s hard to find. So if anyone knows a good one in Korea, let me know!”

Jungkook came on his hand. He hunched forward, spluttering and frozen. It had ruined his good orgasm, the shock --he always had good orgasms when he jerked himself off to watching her. He particularly loved after she came, the way she lay there and giggled sort of breathily and talked about the random things that came to mind. But he had not expected her to speak Korean for the first time. And he had not expected her to ask for tattoo artist recommendations.

He froze. He stared at the screen, grunting a little as his cock twitched. Should he-- no. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. That would be stupid. And weird. And creepy. But like… what the fuck? Did she actually live in Korea?? Her profile didn’t give a location, but he’d always assumed the States since she spoke English primarily. Did… what… and she needed a tattoo artist…

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” he grumbled, grabbing a tissue and wiping his hand off. He couldn’t say anything. He shouldn’t.

But if he didn’t, her other followers would, right? Why was she asking for recs? She was setting herself up for harassment! She couldn’t just ask people who watched her pleasure herself for IRL recommendations!

Frantic with a need to protect her, it was perhaps the only thing that could have led him to message her.

GKtat97: hello. Are you sure it’s a good idea to ask for suggestions here? You could get bad guys answering

Ashtoreth: hello. Are you saying you’re a bad guy? ;)

GKtat97: no! I’m very serious! Be safe! But if you need a place my friend does really good tattoos in seoul. I don’t know where you are looking but I didn’t know you were in Korea

Ashtoreth: oh really? Yes I have moved a few times but I’m currently in Korea. Does your friend work in a parlor somewhere?

GKtat97: yes. Byeolbit Tattoo downtown. Whole studio of great artists

Ashtoreth: awesome, thank you! Have you had work done there?

GKtat97: yeah

Ashtoreth: cool I will definitely take a look. Thank you for the recommendation! What’s your friend’s name?

GKtat97: anyone there is good but my friend is jjk. If you ask for him, he’ll hook you up

Ashtoreth: excellent, I’ll check out his portfolio on their website. Thanks babe :*

Fuck fuck fuck, what was he doing? If anything, he should have suggested her to one of his friends there. Because what if she actually did follow up? What if she made an appointment and came in for a tattoo by him and he got to touch her… fuck, that was entirely unprofessional. He couldn’t do it. Maybe if she knew he was the one watching her, then he wouldn’t feel so morally conflicted, but there was no way he could tell this woman to her face oh yeah, that was me messaging you, I watch you finger yourself to get off. Fuck.

Well. It was highly unlikely she’d be following up, anyway. He comforted himself with that. Probably a dozen guys were messaging her now, trying to get her business so they could tattoo her body.

Ugh. She’d called him babe. He groaned and felt his cock twitch in pleasure just at that reality. She’d called him babe, this faceless woman with the beautiful voice and body. Fuck.

As far as he could tell, no one unusual had reached out to the tattoo parlor, though it was hard to really guess what that would mean. He’d idly flipped through the appointment calendar but of course it wasn’t like she’d make an appointment under Ashtoreth. No one had requested him out of the ordinary. And she’d done a couple more lives in the past couple weeks, so he figured that meant she’d decided to go with someone else. Which hurt a bit, sure, but he was trying to be an adult about it. After all, it was for the best.

And then during lunch, Mina popped her head back and asked, “Hey, there’s a woman who came by to see if you can do a consult…”

“Is she in the schedule?” Jungkook asked.

Mina made a face but admitted, “No… but that’s my fault. I’ve been trying to get something scheduled for her for a couple weeks now and forgot to write it down-- I’m sorry!”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and teased, “Mina, it’s the whole point of your job to write it down…”

“I know. I feel so bad. I’ll buy your lunch tomorrow. Can you meet with her now?”

“Fine.”

He shoved one final bite of food into his mouth, then went to wash his hands and rinse his mouth out so he wouldn’t risk sauce or broccoli in his teeth for a consult. He was still hungry but maybe if this went quickly he’d have time to scarf down the rest of it.

He stepped out to the front area where a woman sat in one of the chairs, looking a little uncomfortable actually. He thought it must be her first tattoo and that she was nervous; he got a lot of young women in for their first tattoo, a little butterfly or hummingbird on their ankle or wrist. She stood when he approached and gave him a rather dubious smile.

“Are you Jeon Jungkook?” she asked. In Korean, which was unusual but not unheard of for a foreigner. A young woman had probably come here to teach or something and learned the language, but she had a good grasp of it.

“Yes. Hello.”

“I’m Y/N,” she answered, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you. Sorry about the mix up--”

“It’s my fault!” Mina sighed dramatically.

“I’m sorry I’m interrupting your lunch. Should I come back another day?”

“No, it’s fine. What are you looking for?”

“Well, I um, I need one covered up and I was hoping to get something custom to cover it. I saw your portfolio and it looks like you’ve done that kind of thing before.”

He nodded, “Yeah, it’s not a problem. Do you have ideas?”

“Yeah… but I’m also kind of open… I’m not an artist, so…”

“Can you show me what you’re wanting covered up?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“We can step back here,” Jungkook offered when she seemed a little shy. She followed him back to one of the pods and leaned her hip against the table as if for strength, then lifted her shirt to show him a man’s name scrawled across her ribs.

“Is it ok if I examine it?” he asked her. She nodded and he sat on a stool to lean in close and look. It was not well done; if it was the man’s copied signature, he had an ugly hand, but the tattoos itself was also uneven, too shallow in some places, too deep in others. However the scratchy and loopiness of it would be pretty easy to design a pattern over.

“I can see by your face it’s ugly. I know. It was… complicated,” she admitted. “I keep it covered with make up usually but I want it gone.”

“That’s easy to cover,” he assured her. “What do you want over it?”

“Well, I thought-- I have this tattoo,” she told him, lifting the other side of her shirt to expose the flower design crawling out of the waistband of her pants over her hip.

Jungkook froze. She was talking but he didn’t hear anything she said because he knew that tattoo. This was Ashtoreth. He looked up at her face, frozen with shock. This was Ashtoreth’s face. How had he not recognized her voice? But she was speaking Korean and he’d only heard her speak it that once and he hadn’t expected this

“Will that work?” she asked.

“Sorry… could you repeat?” Fuck.

“If it can match this?” she asked him. “Except adding in some violets.”

“Oh. Yes. That’s not a problem,” he assured her. “Um, how big are you thinking?”

She motioned with her hands, then asked, “Am I going to die? I know rib tattoos are supposed to be pretty bad… But I’ve had a baby and I got this thing so I’m not a total baby…”

“You have a kid?” he repeated, then immediately cursed himself. Why did that matter? But it was a real thing about her and it was not what he’d expected.

“Um, yeah. Do you have kids?”

“No,” he said simply. And then because apparently he couldn’t stop himself, he pointed, “I guess he wasn’t a very good father, huh?”

She gave him a small laugh and a crooked grin that made his heart actually flutter and agreed, “No, he wasn’t. But I did get something good out of it, so that’s what I want to cover his name with.”

“Flowers?”

“Violets. My daughter with him is called Violet.”

“Ah. That’s… sweet.” He looked away from her, sliding over to the counter to get his camera. “Can I take a picture? I’ll draw a design and you can leave your email with Mina. Once we get that, we’ll make an appointment.”

“Ok. Yes.” She turned to the side and held her shirt steady for him to take a picture of the names, a couple so he’d be able to recreate it flat.

“Mind if I get one of that too, so I can remember it?”

“Do you want the whole thing?”

“No, just the top is fine, if this has all the style elements you want.” So turned and posed for him to get this second one, and he tried to ignore that he was sweating a little to now have personal photos of Ashtoreth. This wasn’t ok. It wasn’t ok. It was unethical. It was ok for him to tattoo her if she knew he knew, but otherwise it was unethical, right?

But he didn’t tell her. Because he was stupid and struck a little dumb by her. He couldn’t comprehend that he was seeing her in person right now, that he was seeing the tattoo up close that had factored into how many of his solo sessions now? And this other tattoo, that never showed in her videos! He knew something now none of her other viewers did.

She thanked him for his time and he promised to get her a sketch within a week and then she left. The whole exchange had been so… normal, compared to how he might have envisioned it.

She hadn’t been anything like he’d expected, but maybe that wasn’t fair. He tuned into her next live after debating it, but he couldn’t bring himself to miss it. He wanted to see if he could see traces of her bad tattoo, but she did a good job of hiding it.

Anyway, why should he be surprised that she had been polite and sweet and a little shy? Because he didn’t expert a camgirl to be those things in real life? But that came through in her cams and it was one of the things that had even initially drawn him to her channel.

It was different now though. She slid her fingers down her panties and he knew what her face looked like. She pressed her fingers into her wet hole and he knew she’d had a child. He knew her real hair color and her real eye color and the sound of her voice in person. Soon he would spend hours hunched over her body, etching something permanent into her skin that would hopefully please her, that all her viewers would see on her. How would she unveil it? Would she give him credit? She’d already been very excited about the design he’d emailed her.

#mywriting #tumblronly #jk x reader #bts smut #drabble

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exoticarmyofcrowns · 4 years

Text

sing for me | kth

pairing: taehyung x fem!reader

summary: you have been living with your roommate for well over a year and the unresolved sexual tension between the two of you finally comes to a head

genre: romance, smut (VERY 18+ not for the littles), roommates au

warnings: masturbation, vouyerism??, fingering, thigh riding, attempted dirty talk, breath play, slight power play???, excessive use of the word “baby” and other pet names, kinda awkward discussion of feelings thrown in bc my characters never shut up when i want them to get it on sorry

word count: ~6.6k

a/n: hello~ um... i have no explanation for this. i am like half ashamed and half proud of this??? idek man. all i know is that i couldn’t have done it without @sugaerie so thank you so much my queen i love uuuu

You step through the door of your apartment, feet practically screaming with relief as you kick off your shoes.

Work was really kicking your ass lately. Add that together with the stress of grad school and you had a deadly concoction not even your favorite tea and copious amount of ibuprofen could protect you from. Your job as a cashier was pretty easy, you can’t lie, but constantly standing and running around the store did a number on your poor feet. Thank god you had weekends off—a perk of having worked there so long you practically had the manager wrapped around your pinky when it came time for scheduling—so you could sleep in for once.

Tossing your keys on the counter, you spare a glance at the clock above the stove as you walk into your small kitchen. It’s about a quarter to midnight. You figure Taehyung is still out with his friends, hitting up one of the bars downtown.

You sigh heavily at the thought of your roommate. Not because anything wrong with him. Taehyung is nothing short of incredible. He’s sweet and kind, always greeting you with the most adorable boxy smile that makes you feel like the only person in the universe. People gravitate toward him just as easily as he draws them in, a natural warmth that instantly puts others at ease in his presence. He’s generous and thoughtful, never missing an opportunity to surprise you at work with a coffee or just to see you. Those shifts are your favorites and maybe you’re a little spoiled because you often find yourself glancing at the entrance more often than not, trying to see if you can spot his dark, curly head from your register.

Not to mention Taehyung is incredibly stunning. Long dark curls frame his face in the most intimidatingly beautiful way it’s often hard to look away from him. He’s got piercing dark eyes that can stare right into your soul but that also crinkle beautifully at the corners when he smiles. His fashion sense is killer, obscure brands and fabrics lining his closet almost like a museum. You’re not sure how but he can wear just about anything and still manage to look like he just stepped off a runway.

He works as a freelance photographer and has quite the sizeable following on social media. He’s passionate about his work and it shows in the quality of his photos. You know next to nothing about photography but even you can see that the beauty and skill with which he wields his camera is nothing short of magical. Commissions are not hard to come by for him, though you’re more than positive it has just as much to do with Taehyung himself as it does his beautiful portfolio.

No, there is absolutely nothing wrong with Taehyung.

Only that he’s perfect and you have a massive crush on him.

Exhaling tiredly, you run a heavy hand down your face. Anyone else would be ecstatic about having such a wonderful, attractive roommate but you know things like this can only end in disaster. More than anything, Taehyung is your friend—your best friend, you would argue—and involving feelings into your relationship can only end poorly. The whole roommates thing just adds another layer of complication that is better left alone. You don’t shit where you eat, after all.

But it’s difficult. Taehyung is just so nice and likeable it’s unreal. You often find your thoughts wandering to dangerous places when you both are curled up on the couch together during movie nights, blankets and pillows and snacks scattered all over the living room, while he curls his body around you without a second thought. He’s naturally tactile, you try to remind yourself in an effort to calm your racing pulse but then he’ll laugh at something happening in the movie, his cheeks plumping up adorably, and you know you’re a lost cause as you feel your heart melt all over again.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to ignore your feelings for your roommate and you know something has to give eventually. In the last couple of weeks, there seemed to have been a shift in the air whenever you were around each other. Taehyung was still your adorable and playful friend but the hugs seemed longer, the touches more tender and lingering. You even think you’ve caught him staring at you a few times, a strange new darkness simmering beneath the chocolate irises.

Flushing with embarrassment and shame, you bury your face into your hands. Of course not. You’re just being ridiculously optimistic. You pull out a clean glass from the cupboard and fill it with water from the sink, hoping to dampen the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Cleaning up, you decide to pamper yourself with a long hot shower complete with a nice sugar scrub and an in-shower face mask. You even spring for a shave, already excited for the feel of your sheets against the smooth, moisturized expanse of your legs. It’s the little things.

You hum lightly under your breath, already feeling the residual tension from the week bleed out as you gently massage your favorite lotion into your skin. Finishing up, you feel much more relaxed and so wonderfully clean you can’t help the smile that graces your lips as you move to head back to your room.

“___.”

It’s faint, so faint you think you imagine it but it still makes you freeze as you step out of the bathroom. Glancing down the short hallway that leads to your room, you blink for several seconds and wait to see if you hear it again. When nothing happens, you feel your heart resume its normal pace before rolling your eyes at yourself and continuing on to your room.

“___.”

This time it’s unmistakable and you can’t help the way the sound of your name makes you jump in fear. Now you’re in full-on panic mode and you anxiously scan the apartment. Your eyes catch on the faint light emanating from Taehyung’s room and you relax slightly. How had you not realized he was home already?

Your relief quickly morphs into confusion. Why would Taehyung be calling for you? Did he need something? Was he hurt? Stifling your self-induced panic, you quietly make your way over to his door. Despite having been in his room multiple times before, something feels off now. Almost like you shouldn’t be there. You can’t quite put your finger on it but something about the whole situation has you on edge…

You shake it off. It’s fine. You’ll just casually peep through the slightly ajar door and make sure everything is okay before marching off to bed to enjoy your evening in. Simple as that, right?

Wrong.

Whatever you thought you were going to see past the small opening of his door doesn’t hold a candle to the image that will undoubtedly be burned into your memory forever.

There, laying casually on his bed, is Taehyung. That in and of itself is not out of the ordinary. Except for the fact that he is naked save for the boxers he normally wears to bed, with a hand pulling desperately at his painfully red length.

It’s suddenly hard to breathe, air catching so violently in your throat you nearly choke audibly. Slapping a hand over your mouth and nose, you will yourself to calm down enough to take in the scene before you. Taehyung’s long legs are splayed almost elegantly across his sheets, deliciously thick thigh muscles clenching and unclenching from his ministrations. His hand glides skillfully over his cock, alternating between slow, languid tugs and fast, unyielding strokes. He throws his head back before tucking his chin in briefly, tongue flicking out to wet his lips before he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. A hiss of pleasure melts into a throaty groan and heat pools rapidly in the pit of your stomach.

A voice in the back of your mind screams for you to get away while you can. You shouldn’t be here. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve lusted after your roommate, how long you’ve wanted to push him against any flat surface and have your way with him or let him have his way with you. It doesn’t matter that you want to do couple-y things with him too, like hold his hand and kiss those soft, pink lips because you are roommates—friends—and a fling like that could only end in disaster, especially when he doesn’t feel the same way. It doesn’t matter and you have to leave now before—

“___,” Taehyung groans once again, hands caressing up his lean stomach and you’re distracted by the way his muscles ripple with the attention. “Are you just going to stand there or are you gonna come help me?”

Something between a squeak and a cough leaves your throat in that instant and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You can’t bring yourself to move for a good second but Taehyung lets out another low moan and your feet move of their own accord into the bedroom.

If you thought he was beautiful before, he is absolutely glowing in the soft light of his bedside lamp. A light sheen of sweat coats his skin and you are overwhelmed with the urge to lick a stray bead that travels down his neck. Your breath is coming out in short pants and you try to subtly squeeze your thighs together to ease the ache. This does not go unnoticed.

“Hello, darling.” The words leave his lips in a low purr and a shiver zips down your spine. He’s smirking at you, hands still gripping his length but his pace has slowed significantly as if giving you a show. He seems perfectly comfortable despite the lack clothing, completely unfazed by your blatant staring. Like he wants you to look at him and only him. The thought has your face burning.

“T-Tae, what are you doing?”

“Isn’t is obvious, sweetheart? Surely I don’t need to spell it out for you, hm?” A particularly wet pass over his dick has him sucking in a gasp and you find you can’t look away. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and Taehyung fixates on the motion, pupils blown wide and darkening further.

“Although you haven’t picked up on my blatant flirting so maybe I should.”

That snaps you out of your reverie. “Flirting?” You hate the way your voice sounds so weak and vulnerable but it can’t be helped.

“I haven’t exactly been subtle, ___. I’ve been—fuck—I’ve been trying to drop hints for the last few weeks now, hell, the last few months but you never n-notice.” He tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth again before releasing a heavy sigh.

Your head is spinning. This Taehyung is so different from the one you’re used to—yes, he’s still the same incorrigible flirt, but where he is usually giggly and playful he is now sensual and downright sinful. You think back over the past few weeks, the lingering touches, the casual hugs. Taehyung has always been touchy but they had felt charged with something else entirely. It’s good to know you hadn’t been making that up.

“I…” You truly don’t know what to say for yourself. “I didn’t know,” you murmur, feeling very very small all of a sudden.

Taehyung immediately stills at your tone and misinterprets it as discomfort. “Oh. Oh god, ___, I’m so sorry.” Wrenching his hand away from himself, he scrambles on the bed, looking up at you with earnest, remorseful eyes. The waistband of his boxers snap shut in his frenzy and you almost mourn the loss of the desire-tinted skin. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just thought that maybe you…maybe you felt the same?”

You’re so taken aback by the complete 180 he’s made that your response gets caught in the whirlwind of your thoughts, This is more like the Taehyung you know, kind and considerate, and you almost forget the situation you’re in. Almost.

“N-No!” you stammer, eager to assuage his uncertainty. “I mean, yes, I-I…” You close your eyes tightly. “I do…feel the same.”

The way Taehyung looks at you after your stunted confession has your heart auditioning for a marathon and goosebumps prickling across your skin. You may as well have just hung all the stars in the sky with the amount of adoration swimming in his warm irises.

“I’m glad,” he grins brightly at you and you can’t help but smile back. You bite your lip out of habit and the smile fades from his face as he watches you.

Swallowing thickly, he rasps, “___, c-can I kiss you? Please.”

The desperation in his voice is not something you expect and a jolt of electricity zings down your spine. Dazed, you nod. That’s all Taehyung needs before he practically launches himself to his feet to grab you by the waist and pull you to him. His hand—the other hand that was not touching himself—cradles your face as he bends down to brush your noses together. A moment passes, Taehyung staring into your eyes to give you room to pull away. When you don’t, he smiles briefly to himself before surging forward to connect your lips.

The kiss is soft and warm, exchanging only the slightest bit of pressure as if you both are worried that you’ll frighten the other. Which is ridiculous, you think, since you have yet to run away. You bounce up on your toes to alleviate the reach for Taehyung and kiss him harder. He hums appreciatively as he nips at you, the sound tingling from your lips and down the length of your body. You shiver in his hold and move to wrap your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. The distance disappears between you two and you feel his arousal poking at your stomach. You break the kiss to look down between you, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

Glancing up at Taehyung from beneath your eyelashes, you marvel at how positively wrecked he looks. He’s still damp with sweat but his mouth is slightly swollen from your kisses and his eyes are so blown out they’re practically black with desire. You feel yourself clench hopelessly as the blood rushes loudly in your ears.

“Can I—Can I watch you?”

You’re just as surprised as Taehyung is to hear those words leave your mouth but you’re not quite thinking straight, not when he looks like that and you finally have him in a way you never thought you would. It’s overwhelming, to say the least, and you want to savor every moment together.

Taehyung doesn’t seem to be faring much better, the request making his breathing turn heavy as he leans down to rest his forehead against yours. “Are you sure, ___? Are you absolutely sure? Because once we start, I don’t think I can stop.”

Peeking up at him coyly, you respond, “Who says I’ll want you to?”

A beat. Then, Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut and practically growls at your words. His arm tightens around your waist and crushes your body to him as if trying to mold you together. You love it.

“Then sit back and enjoy the show.” His lips quirk into a lascivious smirk before crashing your mouths together once again. This kiss is different than the previous one, not one bit of hesitation lingering now. Taehyung’s tongue licks along the seam of your mouth insistently and your legs turn to jelly as you open up for him.

The kiss is over too soon but before you can mourn the loss of his lips, he pushes you down onto the bed and resumes his spot against the pillows. Tugging on his boxers, Taehyung pulls them down to discard them somewhere behind you. Heat pulses through you at the sight of his exposed flesh and your thighs rub together once again.

Taking himself in hand, Taehyung spreads his legs and begins a torturously slow pace. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt of this.” All the air in your lungs leaves you at the confession. You can’t even think clearly, much less think up a semi-coherent response, but he doesn’t seem deterred by your silence.

“I’ve always—shit—I’ve always wanted t-to kiss that pretty little mouth of yours, ravage it until you can’t think. Your mouth, your neck, anything I could get my lips on.” Your eyes eagerly take in the sight of the milky substance beading at the tip of his cock and making his passes even messier.

“Ah, fuck, I-I wondered what kind of sounds you would make. If you would gasp and sigh or if I could make you scream.” He twists his wrist as he glides over the head of his length and he gasps out loud, his breathing rough and ragged and oh so lovely.

“I’ve thought about what it would take you to make you beg for it.”

A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it and heat blooms across your cheeks. Taehyung stills for a moment before resuming with a smirk.

“Oh? Does my baby like the sound of that? Of me making you beg for my cock?” You nod, stunned and aroused beyond belief. It’s as if your brain has short-circuited and all you can think about is the fantasy that Taehyung so beautifully illustrates for you.

“Dirty girl,” he chuckles, tonguing the corner of his lips. “I should have guessed at what a desperate little thing you’d be. Asking me to stroke my dick while you watch.” He tuts playfully, eyes never leaving yours.

Breathing has become steadily more difficult and you’re acutely aware of the dampness between your legs. You want nothing more than to relieve the ache but you’re so transfixed on the beautiful man laid out in front of you that you can do nothing more than squeeze your thighs together.

“Look at you,” Taehyung’s eyes rake down your form, taking in your lust-darkened gaze and heaving chest before lingering on the apex of your tensed thighs. “I bet you’re dripping, aren’t you? So eager to take my cock that I could just slip right in if I wanted to, hm?” Again you nod, fingers twitching as you grip the sheets beneath you. He laughs lowly and the sound washes over you and settles deep in your stomach.

“God, I bet you’d taste so sweet on my tongue. I would spend hours just buried between your legs if you’d let me. Every time you prance around the apartment in those scraps you call shorts, I just want to bend you over the couch and fuck you until you can’t walk. Would you like that, baby girl? Want me to sink my cock into that sweet cunt of yours? Make it mine, over and over again?”

You’re practically panting now, desperate sounds ripping themselves from your throat as Taehyung stares at you intensely, hand never faltering on his swollen erection. He seems to take pity on you because in the next moment, he murmurs a deep, “Come here, baby.”

Snapping into action, you nearly stumble over yourself in your haste to be close to him. He smiles, fondness flickering in his eyes beneath the lust at your eagerness. You crawl forward until you are settled on your knees between his legs. A feeling of shyness settles over you—absurd, given the circumstances—and you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. A hand winds around your waist and pulls you to him, forcing you to straddle one of his thighs. You feel a finger slip under your chin to coax you into looking at him. When you do, Taehyung offers a sweet smile.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” You go to nod but Taehyung clicks his tongue. “I need to hear you say it, ___.”

“Yes.” You’re proud that your voice doesn’t shake. “I want you, Tae.”

The finger on your chin turns into a forceful grip as he crashes your mouths together once again. It’s messy and desperate and you can’t help the loud moan that Taehyung swallows gleefully. You welcome his tongue into your mouth and when you give it a pointed suck, he lets out an answering groan low in his throat.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he pants against your cheek, planting wet kisses down your jaw and to the length of your neck. His lips meet the collar of your shirt but before he can even ask, you’re wrenching it off your body and onto the ground.

Taehyung seems at a loss for the first time since you’d walked into his room and you revel in the swell of pride that overtakes you. He can’t help but ogle greedily at the newly-exposed skin and you feel powerful knowing that you have his undivided attention.

Shaking himself out of his daze, Taehyung places a gentle kiss right above your heart before slowly making his way lower. The gesture is not lost on you and you find yourself melting further into his touch as your hand wraps around to tangle in the hairs at the nape of his neck. You can feel two hands ghost up your sides to tease the undersides of your breasts and you inhale sharply, chest pushing up into his mouth. Taehyung breathes a laugh onto your skin before cupping the soft flesh and placing almost reverent kisses upon their stiff peaks.

“Tae, please,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut at the onslaught of sensations he is inflicting on you.

“Hmm, I like hearing you beg for me.” His tongue flicks against your pebbled nipple and you cry out, unable to hold back anymore. “My desperate baby girl.”

“T-Tae, ah, please don’t tease.”

“Don’t tease?” He punctuates the question with a sharp squeeze. “But you’ve been teasing me for well over a year, no? Walking around the apartment practically naked, with nothing but a t-shirt or these poor excuse for shorts.” Taehyung’s hands leave a lingering pinch before gliding down the length of your torso to the hem of your sleep shorts. Hooking a finger inside, he snaps the elastic back in place and you gasp. “No panties?” He asks in wonder, eyes fixed on your lower half.

Swallowing, you murmur, “I-I don’t usually wear them to bed.”

He lets out a throaty groan. “Fuck, you really—” He cuts himself off with another sharp exhale, head tipping backward as he squeezes his eyes shut as if in pain. Something nudges the side of your thigh and you look down at forgotten length between you, swollen and nearly purple. As if in a daze, you reach for the turgid flesh and let the tips of your fingers graze the head tentatively. Taehyung’s eyes snap open to look at you in shock and you freeze.

“Do that again. Please.”

You can hardly deny him when he looks so fucked out beneath you and your hand begins a tentative pace, stroking his dick like you had witnessed him do earlier.

“That’s it, atta girl,” he groans into your shoulder, kissing the skin almost absentmindedly. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your stomach plummets at his words, inner muscles clenching almost painfully. You’re so turned on your shorts are most likely unsalvageable but seeing Taehyung so wrecked and because of you makes it all worthwhile.

Keeping up the pace on his cock, you don’t even notice your hips begin to lower onto his thigh and rock down against him until he sits up from where he’d begun to slouch in pleasure, leg knocking up into your dripping heat.

“Fuck, baby. Look at you, grinding on my thigh like that.” His words send your heart stuttering in your chest. “Your poor little cunt has been neglected, hm? You’ve been such a good girl for me, stroking my cock and getting me ready. I think you deserve a reward.”

Taehyung grips your hips with bruising force and helps you grind harder onto his leg. The drag of your shorts against your swollen clit is a little too harsh but the sheer dampness of the fabric makes the glide much easier.

“I can feel you dripping onto my leg. You’re soaked, baby.” You’re delirious at this point, incoherent noises spilling from your lips as you work yourself over Taehyung’s thigh. It’s not long before you feel the pleasure mounting within you, hips pistoning back and forth even faster.

“That’s it, baby girl. Use me. Make yourself cum on my thigh. Get yourself nice and ready for my cock.” His hands run soothingly across your skin, sending your nerves on fire. You whine as you feel your orgasm approach with each pass of your hips.

“Come on, babe. Give it to me. Let me feel you cum all over me.”

With a strangled cry, you buck against Taehyung uncontrollably as you finally release all over his leg. You curl into him, hands tangling into his hair and tugging in order to keep yourself grounded. Your hips gradually slow as you ride out your high and you find it a struggle to catch your breath. The two of you stay like that for a few moments, letting the aftershocks wash over you.

“Oh, ___,” Taehyung murmurs in wonder. Almost sheepishly, you peek up at him from beneath your eyelashes to see him staring at you with such unadulterated reverence and want that your heart skips a beat. “You did so well, baby girl,” he rasps, lips ghosting over your face tenderly.

Face warm, you try to redirect the attention to him and begin placing gentle kisses along the length of his neck. Taehyung tilts his head back, eyelids fluttering prettily at your ministrations. Smirking to yourself, you trail your hand teasingly down the length of his chest to make your way down to his dick but he stops you with a firm hand around your wrist. Before you can even open your mouth to question him, he’s already flipped you over onto your back.

“Hmm, still so eager for my cock.” He nips playfully at your bottom lip, laughing when you move to chase him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’re getting there. I have to get you ready first.”

Two of his fingers brush the swell of your mouth and you open immediately to take them in. Taehyung inhales sharply as you give them a pointed suck, eyes narrowing slightly to let you know that you will certainly pay for that later. The thought sends a shot of arousal to your core.

Taehyung removes his fingers and wastes no time in bringing them to the apex of your thighs. He makes quick work of your soiled shorts and suddenly, he’s all you can feel. A single digit swipes the length of your slit to circle around your clit, eliciting a hiss from the both of you.

“Oh, baby, you’re so wet,” Tae groans, in a trance. “All for me.”

He wasn’t really speaking to you but you nod anyway. “Yes, Tae. All for you.”

Eyes snapping to yours, he sinks one finger into your weeping heat and watches your face for any signs of discomfort. You tense slightly before relaxing and sending him a reassuring smile as a signal that he can continue. He pumps his finger in and out, letting you get used to the sensation before gently slipping in another. Scissoring the digits, Taehyung furrows his brows and bites his lip as he forces himself to be patient.

You, on the other hand, are having a much harder time controlling yourself. Soft whimpers escape you with every pump of Taehyung’s fingers. One particularly potent curl has you gasping for air as an animalistic growl tears itself from your throat, hips bucking harshly upwards.

“Gah, Tae—please,” you pant, hands flailing wildly for something to hold onto before settling on his hair.

“Anything, darling.” Taehyung inserts yet another finger and you begin to really feel the stretch, so much that it nearly becomes uncomfortable. A small noise of discomfort makes the man above you pause but he mouths at your temple reassuringly. “I know, baby, I know. But I have to make sure you’re ready for me.”

Right then, he curls his fingers just as he did before and you’re seeing stars again. He places adoring kisses along your jaw before dipping for another taste of your mouth. You eagerly accept him, opening fully to him as your hips roll along with the rhythm of his fingers.

Breaking away, you pant, “I’m ready, Tae.”

“Are you sure?” Looking deeply into your eyes, he must find what he’s looking for because he nods lightly and kisses you breathless. He reaches over to his nightstand and rummages in his drawer. The crinkle of a wrapper hits your ears, making your face warm slightly as the reality of the situation hits you full force. You were really doing this. The fact that the man that you’ve pined after for so long is here with you—actually likes you—is so surreal you’re not quite sure how to process it but you’ll be damned if you didn’t enjoy every second of it.

Once he has rolled the condom on, Taehyung moves upward to cup your face between his hands. “Before we begin, are you absolutely s—”

“Tae, I swear to god if you do not get inside me in the next three seconds I will flip us over and do it myself.”

Taehyung blinks before chuckling. “There will be plenty of time for that, sweetheart. But for right now…” His smile turns sinister, prompting anticipation to swirl deliciously in your stomach. “I’m calling the shots.”

He takes himself in hand and rubs the tip up and down the length of your folds. Your eyes flutter when Taehyung collects your pooling arousal, making a complete mess of you.

When he pushes in, your mouth drops open in a silent gasp. He’s big—of course he is—bigger now that he’s entering you and you can’t deny that the stretch is more than welcome. You glance up at Taehyung’s face and are pleased to see that he looks just as wrecked as you feel. He locks eyes with you, dark irises burning with lust but also something deeper. Something…soft and warm. The thought sends your heart pounding in your chest.

As he bottoms out, Taehyung makes sure to probe your face for any signs of discomfort. He doesn’t find any and tentatively thrusts into you, eyes never leaving yours as he does. You gasp, nerves tingling as a whine tears itself from your throat, soft and breathy.

“That’s it, angel,” Taehyung pants in your ear. “Sing for me. Let me know just how good I make you feel.”

You clench helplessly, reveling in the low grunt it earns from the man above you. He begins to pick up the pace, hips snapping fiercely against yours so that the only sound is the harsh slap of skin against skin mingling with your eager breaths.

“Such a tight little cunt, even after you’ve already cum once.” His voice is even raspier with the force of his thrusts and you practically keen at the sound. “I wonder how many times I can make you lose it.”

You sob, hips rising desperately to meet his. “P-Please,” you cry, unsure what it is you’re asking for but it doesn’t matter because he props himself up to get a better angle, looking down at your writhing form.

“Such a desperate little baby.” He punctuates the pet name with a particularly harsh snap of his hips and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can already feel your second orgasm rising within you, all you need is a little push.

“You know,” Taehyung begins, concentrating his thrusts to a slow roll, “I’ve always been curious about one thing.”

Before you can ask what it is, you see his hand snake between you, gliding across your stomach, between the valley of your breasts, to settle at the base of your throat. Your eyes widen of their own accord, breath stuttering as you realize the intention. Taehyung’s eyes hold a silent question and you nod, albeit a bit desperately, prompting him to wrap his long fingers steadily around the lowest part of your neck.

“Fucking filthy,” he whispers in awe, gaze alternating between your face and the sight of his hand wrapped around your pretty neck. He thinks he could watch this forever. Squeezing experimentally, Taehyung watches with utter delight at how quickly you fall apart under his grip. Your hands scramble to claw at his arm, not to pull it away but to keep him locked in place.

“Poor baby just wants to be choked and fucked senseless, is that it?” You nod jerkily, pleasure fogging your mind and making you delirious. You couldn’t talk even if you tried but the way your hips buck up into his needily tell him all he needs to know.

“So honest,” he chuckles, increasing the pressure slightly. “Good girls get what they want.” Taehyung pulls his hips back, so far that only the tip remains inside you, before snapping back in full-force. The pace he sets is brutal and you can feel his hip brushing relentlessly against your clit.

“T-Tae,” you gasp, stomach tightening as a particularly well-timed thrust has you seeing stars. “C-Close.”

“Is baby girl gonna cum?” You nod frantically, eyes focusing and unfocusing on his face. “Come on, baby. Give me one more. I know you can do it. My desperate. Little. Slut.”

Taehyung tightens his grip even further and that’s the end for you. A scream lodges itself in your throat as the coil in your lower stomach snaps, sending you spiraling into the most powerful orgasm you’ve had in a while. Taehyung releases his hand from your neck abruptly, the rush of air prolonging your pleasure to the point you think you might pass out.

Above you, you hear Taehyung groan gutterly at the vice-like grip your walls have trapped him in. “Fuck, princess, I can feel you squeezing. You’re gonna make me cum.”

Still breathless, you fight against the fog clouding your brain. “Please, Tae. Cum inside me, please. I-I want it so bad.”

“Such a filthy little thing,” he stutters, breaths sounding labored in your ears as he gets closer to his own climax. “Gonna f-fill you up so good. Make this cunt mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp, tightening your muscles one last time around him. That seems to be the end for him because before you know it, Taehyung is moaning into your shoulder.

“All. Fucking. Mine,” he growls as he snaps his hips, once, twice, before stilling inside you.

It seems to last hours but Taehyung eventually collapses onto his forearms, careful not to crush you under his weight. You both take a minute to catch your breath, enjoying the feeling of closeness that follows. Eventually, he pulls back, carefully slipping out of you to tie off the condom and toss it in the wastebasket. You wince but relax immediately after, snuggling further into the soft down of his comforter.

Taehyung smiles adoringly as he makes his way back to the bed, heart flipping at how cute you look in his bed. Almost as if you belong there. He hesitates as he gets to the edge, fearing for a moment whether or not it was alright to join you. Those fears are put to rest as you blink sleepily up at him, arms tiredly reaching for him. Relieved, he snuggles in next to you and gathers you in his arms. It’s silent for a moment as you both enjoy being wrapped up in each other.

“Since when?” you finally break the silence, tracing mindless patterns across his chest.

Taehyung inhales sharply. He knows exactly what you mean. Still, he feigns ignorance. “What?”

You close your eyes for a moment, burying your face further into his chest. “Since when have you liked me?”

“Since when have you liked me?” he shoots back and you pinch the skin on his ribs. He yelps before you both dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“I asked you first,” you whine, risking a glance up at his face. Taehyung is already staring down at you fondly, warm gaze melting into your own.

“Since the very first moment,” he whispers softly. You almost laugh, except his face is deadly serious. It’s suddenly hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. You stare at him in wonder—the delicate brush of his eyelashes against his cheek, the soft sweep of his sweat-dampened hair over his forehead, the gentle curve of his lips as he smiles at you. You clear your throat, glancing away as a pleasant warmth settles over your cheeks.

“That’s not an answer.”

He laughs breathily in your ear and you fight a shiver. “Okay, okay. Well the first time I realized it was the day you had come back from your shift after you had switched managers.”

You balk. “Are you serious?” You remember that day. Management had decided to move your favorite supervisor over to the men’s department while you remained stuck in shoes. The new guy was awful—condescending, incompetent, and downright unpleasant. You had come home that day with three different bottles of wine and all the take out you could afford and practically forced Taehyung to drink with you and listen to your misery. The guy was eventually fired but the whole experience had left you with a bitter taste in your mouth.

Tae chuckles as he thinks back to that night. “Yes, I’m serious. You were about halfway through the second bottle and were practically screaming curses at the guy. It took you all of 30 minutes after dinner to fall asleep right there on the couch, somehow still complaining about that dickwad.” You snort, hand shooting up to cover your face in embarrassment. “As you talked, I realized…I could listen to you forever. And then you fell asleep, cuddling so cutely into my shoulder, and I knew I was a goner. Even though you snore.”

Your eyes, which had started watering at his heartfelt confession, widen before you regain your composure enough to hit his chest. “I do not snore.”

Taehyung winces playfully, knowing full-well that you don’t but enjoying teasing you all the same. “So, yeah. I’ve liked you for a while. And I had an inkling you felt the same.”

“Oh, yeah? What gave it away? The fact that I practically hopped on your dick?” you tease.

“Well it certainly didn’t hurt.” He winks at you and you have to stifle the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. “But it was little things. Like how you’d blush at a compliment or if I hugged you just a bit too long. I couldn’t be sure though. Not until tonight, I guess.”

“Well,” you shift upwards, his confession instilling a confidence in you that you hadn’t known you possessed, “in case I haven’t made it abundantly clear: I like you very, very much, Kim Taehyung.”

He’s silent for a single, nerve-wracking beat before the most brilliant smile lights up his face and for the second time that night, you find yourself breathless.

“And I like you very, very much, too, ___.”

Taehyung kisses you then, slow and sweet, and you’re left thinking that you never want to be anywhere else.

#bts #bts smut #bts taehyung #bts v #taehyung #taehyung smut #v #v smut #bts imagine #taehyung imagine #v imagine #bts v imagine #kth fic #bts fics #taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader fic #taehyung x reader imagine #my writing

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amerrierworld · 3 years

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Kiss Her For Me (pt 3)

for anon: Kiss Her For Me pt 3?

Summary: Charlie appears at one of Therese’s gallery showings and Carol insists she pose for the photographer’s portfolio.

Characters: Carol x Therese x OC

Word Count: 2,801

Warnings: SMUT F/F/F threesome :)

The giant crown of red hair was unmistakable across the gallery, and Therese gasped audibly as she recognized the woman in the distance. Carol had been distracted by looking at one of her framed prints and the glass of champagne in her hands, so she was startled when Therese’s grip in her hand tightened until her fingers hurt.

“What is it, angel?” Carol asked, worried that Richard or some stupid oaf from Therese’s past had shown up.

“Look, Carol, over there,” Therese whispered, nodding to where she was looking.

Carol’s ruby lips pulled into a sly smile as she also recognized Charlotte standing by one of Therese’s larger photos; a colourful landscape from one of their trips together.

“How is she here?” Therese spluttered. They hadn’t seen Charlie since their last intimate night, and hadn’t had time to even think about going to Jackie’s strip club.

“I have a feeling our dear Abigail has something to do with it,” Carol replied before tugging Therese along as she walked in Charlie’s direction. “Come on, it’s unfitting for the host not to welcome all guests.”

Charlie recognized them from afar before either woman said anything, and she rushed over, heels tapping the floor, before wrapping each of them in a warm hug.

“Therese! You never told me you were so talented! My goodness, Carol, where do you find them?”

Carol barked out a laugh and gave Charlie a warm kiss on the cheek, “I’m so happy to see you here, Charlotte. How did you know about Therese’s showing?”

“Oh, Abby, of course. Well, technically Jackie, but it’s basically like talking to the same person.”

All three of them agreed on that, before Therese asked her what she had been enjoying so far, nerves slowly dissipating as their conversation carried on.

“I must say- the portraits you’ve done? Marvellous!” Charlie gestured a little further away from them where Therese had a small cluster of intimate portraits of various models.

“If I had the money I’d ask you for a million photos, really! I desperately need new headshots, and what you manage to capture is just perfect.”

Therese frowned and said, “Oh, you wouldn’t have to pay me. I just like taking photos of people.”

“No- no, absolutely not. Work like this should be paid for, I don’t want to get away with it for free just because we’re... acquainted.”

Carol rolled her eyes lovingly and rubbed her thumb over Therese’s knuckles.

“Let Therese take some photos of you, Charlie. You’re beautiful and photogenic. I’m sure something could be... arranged between us, right angel?”

Therese flushed a bright red, and Charlie smiled from ear-to-ear,

“Only if you’d be a part of that arrangement, Carol.”

“Of course,” Carol grinned, bringing Therese’s hand up to her lips, “we come as a package deal.”

Charlotte appeared in a set of mom jeans and a giant knitted sweater that nearly slipped off of her slim shoulders. Therese coughed and felt herself nearly choke at the sight of her, and Carol chuckled, rubbing her back.

“Hey Carol,” Charlotte said warmly, waving at the blonde. In response, Carol tugged her close by the arm and kissed her firmly on the mouth. If Therese hadn’t been frozen in awe she would have raised her camera to take a picture.

“Is that what you’re planning to wear?” Therese asked, voice timid. She hadn’t counted on Charlie to look so cozy; lots of her looks had been fitted, seductive and feline thus far.

“Oh, no,” Charlie replied cheekily. “Actually, I wasn’t planning on wearing anything at all.”

Carol barked a laugh at Therese, whose mouth dropped open.

“You’ve done nude portraits before, haven’t you, angel?” Carol asked, sensing Therese’s nerves.

“Well, yes, but- I’ve never-” I’ve never been so aroused by a model I’m shooting... except for Carol.

“Never photographed a redhead?” Charlotte winked, and adored the way Therese spluttered defensively.

“I’ll show you where to drop your stuff. Let her get her cameras and doohickies set up,” Carol said, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s waist. She winked at the brunette before heading down the narrow hall and Therese did take a photo this time of the two women as they walked away. The lighting wasn’t right, and they were moving so there was bound to be blurriness, but this wasn’t for her portfolio. This was for her.

Once in the changing room, Carol helped Charlie undress, folding her clothes neatly.

“This is a nice sweater,” she commented, rubbing her thumb over the soft grey material.

“Thanks,” Charlie chortled, applying a bit of gloss in the mirror. “It’s thrifted, actually. Do you work in the studio with Therese?”

“Oh, no,” Carol smiled, “I work at a furniture store a bit further in the city. But I figured our Therese might want some extra hands on deck considering she can get so.. tense.”

The redhead and blonde laughed gleefully at the memory of their bold yet shy Therese, the atmosphere amicable between them.

Carol held out a robe for Charlie to wear between shots, but the younger woman took her time in sauntering over to her, nude as the day she was born.

She reached past the bathrobe and fiddled with the collar on Carol’s blouse, making the blonde flush with heat as she bit her lip,

“You should pose with me,” she grinned. “As a treat for our Therese.”

Carol chuckled, “you young women are so bold sometimes. I’m far too ancient to pose for a camera nude.”

“I disagree,” Charlie hummed, before slipping on the robe and heading out again to the main studio space.

A large white backdrop was lit with a variety of coloured lights. Therese was playing with the settings, wondering if she should make it a dramatic, colourful portrait set-up, or something more clean and sharp.

She looked up at the sound of the two women approaching, and she had undone the top two buttons on her dress shirt.

“Where do you want me?” Charlie said, swaying her hips as she approached the photographer. Therese smiled, dimples highlighted in the lighting, and took Charlie’s hand with confidence.

Carol took a seat behind the tripod holding the camera, watching as Therese arranged the redhead on the ground by the backdrop. She guided her arm; draped her fingers over her knee, positioned her feet and knees with a professional touch, and Carol felt somehow heated at the sight of her becoming so in control.

“Let’s start with the robe on, first,” Therese suggested, heading towards where Carol was and fiddling one more time with the lights.

“Not prepared for the full show yet?” Charlotte teased, relaxing into the pose Therese had put her in.

“I just wanna give you a good introduction before we get there,” the brunette replied without hesitation and Carol smiled.

Therese snapped a few shots, enjoying her photography skills and the natural flair she had for directing Charlie’s poses. With every new pose, the robe slipped off a little more, and a bit more skin was revealed. The freckles were highlighted in the colours Therese chose, and her bright blue eyes really picked up on the photos.

Then, Therese told Carol to get some props, specifically the pale sheets and the small, white armchair with golden edges. When she returned, Charlie was fully nude, barely holding the robe against her chest, nipples peaking teasingly just by the edge of the fabric. Her legs, nimble and flexible, were stretched and folded in front of her, almost swan-like.

She let Carol and Therese position the chair and draped her in the sheet, letting it slip off her shoulders, letting her leg peek through below, letting the valley of her breasts be shadowed dramatically as she leaned back and arched her whole body atop of the chair.

“Fuck,” Therese breathed as she stepped back. Carol could practically hear her heartbeat hammering, and the only sound for a while was the camera clicking and the shutter going off.

“It feels like you two have just been pampering me,” Charlie laughed, her head tossed back as Carol raked her hands through the curls to tame it a little. She wasn’t a professional assistant at all, didn’t know how to do hair or makeup, but she listened to Therese, and that seemed to satisfy everyone involved.

“Don’t you think Carol’s been working really hard, Therese?” Charlie asked, her blue eyes flickering over to the blonde, who’s hand stilled in her hair. “Maybe she should pose with me. It’s only fair. Look how beautiful she is.”

Therese stopped shooting for a moment, and across the studio, grey eyes met green, and something fierce sparked between the two of them.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Therese said, her voice uncharacteristically husky, “Carol?”

“As long as this doesn’t land on the front page of the New York Times,” Carol teased, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

“Just the front page of our bedroom portfolio,” Therese grinned. Charlie gaped,

“You said you never would pose nude,” she said to Carol, accusingly.

“Never in such a professional space,” Carol replied, “and definitely not alongside someone else.”

“But I’m the exception?” Charlie pushed out her bottom lip lovingly and Carol smiled, but Therese was the one who replied,

“Always.”

Then Charlie began helping Carol undress, just like the blonde had done before, and also because Carol was nearly frozen with her mind racing. This beautiful woman, undressing her, as her lover stood by with a camera and a keen eye, ready to capture every moment, every touch, every kiss-

“Kiss her for me,” Therese ordered with a quiet mumble, raising the camera, “it’ll help relax her.”

“Now who’s tense, hm?” Charlotte said, before kissing Carol on the cheek. Her blouse was entirely unbuttoned, revealing a creamy lace bra.

“What would you like, dear Therese?” Charlie asked, turning towards the photographer, the sheet forgotten by her feet.

“Act as if the camera isn’t here,” Therese suggested, “show her a good time. But not too good.”

Carol groaned, rendered speechless as the redhead raised her up and slipped the blouse off for her. Then she sat Carol down in the chair, shimmied her skirt off for her so she was only in her undergarments, and Charlie entirely nude. She left Carol’s blood-red heels on.

Therese was shuffling around, snapping photos as Charlie began rocking and swaying in rhythm atop of Carol’s lap. Carol’s hands gripped her hips, gently at first, but then the dominant fire came back to her. Once she got used to the glaring lights, the new environment of the studio, and the softness of Charlie’s skin so close to hers now, her grip tightened and her mind regained its laser-focus during sex.

Charlie moved off of her lap, pushed between her legs, and without hesitation pressed her tongue against Carol’s panties. And Therese was there, instantly, to catch the awed, aroused look on Carol’s face as the tongue began rolling against her clothed cunt. Her hair tumbled back as she let out a shaken groan, and Therese smirked while blushing as her camera clicked once, twice, thrice.

She got a closeup of Carol’s hand, twisting in Charlie’s hand. Carol’s leg swinging over Charlie’s shoulder with her heel still on, the sheen of sweat collecting in the valley of her still-covered breasts, the arch of Charlie’s back as she licked and teased the older woman.

This is what she loved, Therese realized, more than anything. The pure unbridled adoration and lust, the beauty of two women lost in pleasure. Whether she was witnessing or experiencing it, there was something so incredibly timeless about it that she stopped for a moment in photographing, and just watched.

Carol’s breath was hitching, and her eyes were rolling back, and her voice was raising in colourful curses, but Charlie pulled away just as her legs began to tremble.

“I remember what you said, last time,” Charlie purred, kissing her knee. That only Therese would make her cum.

“Oh, you delightful vixen,” Carol groaned, pulling her up. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Therese knew that teasing Carol would only come to bite you in the ass. Because if Carol couldn’t have her orgasm, she’d go above and beyond to have you begging for her instead.

And that’s how Charlie ended up on Carol’s lap again, her front against her back, legs spread over the armrests and Carol’s hand working vigorously against her swollen cunt. The redhead cried out, breathing heavily, and Carol’s other hand fisted in her mass of curls, pulling her head back so she could bite the fair, freckled skin of her neck.

Though her hands were sweating, Therese would not miss out on this image. The camera came back up and she captured the very moment that Charlie tumbled over the edge, lipgloss faint and smudged, her eyes open and desperate. She stared right into the camera, and Therese visibly shivered.

Charlie fell limp in Carol’s arms, the older woman holding her gently.

And then, “Therese.. I think it’s your turn. You’ve been waiting like such a good girl for a while now.”

“Is that card not full yet, with how many photos you’ve been taking?” Charlie added.

The two women quickly stripped the brunette of her clothes, her slim, lithe body practically glowing in the studio lights. Carol took her time to caress her skin like she always did, which Charlie took advantage of and struck a few million-dollar-prize photos of the two lovers. Therese didn’t know how experienced she would be with her camera, but she supposed everyone could click a button and take a photo. With Carol’s mouth swirling around her nipple, she was far too distracted to care.

Then a smaller hand came to rest between her legs, and Charlie was next to her. They traded places from before, so now Therese was in the chair and Charlie hovering over her again.

The redhead pulled one of Therese’s legs over her shoulder, stretching her delightfully as she sat back in the chair, and worked her fingers against her clit until she was wet enough to push inside. Then, as Carol looked on in wonder, she used the momentum of her hips to drive her fingers deep, kissing the brunette with abandon as she fucked her until the chair starting moving backwards from the motions.

Carol took a few photos, knowing they wouldn’t be as good as Therese’s but wanting to remember this nonetheless. Charlie’s hair tumbled down and was lit like fire in the lights.

There wasn’t a single ounce of regret in Carol’s body as she watched Therese cum and tremble in the redhead’s arms, her hand gripping the armrests until her knuckles turned white.

Charlie continued rutting against Therese, enjoying the slow motions and Therese’s soft groans. Every move still carried a shiver of pleasure for the two of them as Therese basked in the afterglow of her orgasm.

“C-Carol,” she breathed. Carol looked up, intensely, but Therese’s eyes were shut tightly. She then leaned over and whispered something in Charlie’s ear who lit up and immediately moved off of Therese’s body.

Carol cautiously walked over to the chair and Therese pulled her down for a kiss before pulling her to straddle one of her thighs.

Charlie was there immediately, facing their profiles and angled view with the camera. Carol looked a little shy- a little nervous, but Therese kissed her again and again, and then guided the blonde’s own hand down to her cunt that was moving over Therese’s slim thigh in desperation.

“Oh-,” she said in realization. Charlie grinned behind the camera, and clicked the button.

Carol shook, moving like an animal, her head tossing back, and then pressing into Therese’s neck, her body writhing until she spilled all over her young lover.

The last photo was that of the blonde and brunette embraced in the warm light, nude and sweaty, and perfect. Charlotte looked at it with gleeful smugness, thinking it must be the best photo out of the bunch.

After a few moments, Carol and Therese untangled and the three women helped one another get dressed.

“How about a meal? I’m starving after all that.. exercise,” Charlotte suggested, “plus it’s the least I can do. If you won’t let me pay for this session, let me buy us takeout, at least.”

“Oh, alright,” Therese waved her hand, blushing but smiling. Carol had wound her arm around her middle and kissed her cheek as they headed out of the studio.

“Best put that camera away, angel,” Carol suggested as they got outside. Therese was flicking through the photos that had just been taken, and she blushed once she realized she probably shouldn’t look at those in public. She’d savour them later, in bed with Carol, and add them to their collection.

taglist: @fand0m-obsess3d-g33k @the-obscurity

#carol #carol aird #carol movie #carol fanfiction #carol & therese #cate blanchett #rooney mara #therese #therese belivet #Carol Aird x Therese Belivet #carol aird/therese belivet #oc #carol x therese x oc #f/f/f #wlw #lgbt #merry writes #god i'm so gay #the price of salt

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sin-of-jess · 3 years

Text

Overhaul

Type: Smut

These days it felt like I only worked for Overhaul. I was a hired gun and not a particularly popular one at that. I had enough work to live comfortably, but things changed the first time Overhaul hired me. It had started as a simple hit job, take down a low life impeding in the yakuza's business, then onto much more. It's as if I'm his personal dog now. I was so busy doing work for him that I rarely did work for anyone else. I couldn't complain though, Overhaul trusted me so the rest of the Yakuza fell in line with their boss. Again I find myself in Overhaul's central headquarters, struggling to keep up with the twists and turns that all seemed to look the same. Finally reaching his office, she didn't stop to knock and walked in "The job is done, and I've given the intel to Mimic." I tell him, learning early on that he disliked when she'd toss him the possibly contaminated portfolio's. Overhaul was acting as if she hadn't said anything, his fingers laced and tucked under his chin. It's not until I reach the desk that I realize the only item on it was a bag from a popular lingerie store.

"Take that and shower, put it on once you're clean." He tells me in an empty voice. My chest clenches as I realize what's going on. We had hooked up a few times before; the first time was after an argument over how little intel she had gotten that gotten heated and ended in me bent over his desk. It was the only time they had sex without me showering first, and he made it very clear he was displeased about the fact. "For me?" I ask as I peek into the bag. "Yes." He answers, impatience clear in his eyes. I give him a cheeky grin as I pick the bag up by its straps with my pinkie. I saunter towards the bathroom door, making a show to sway my hips as I go. The bathroom is lavish, but that's to be expected when it belongs to a man who takes germs as seriously as Overhaul does. I know how to turn the knobs to the perfect temperature, hot per Overhaul's request. I put my weapons on the left of the counter and my clothes on the right, and hiss at the feeling of the hot water hitting my skin. The pressure of the shower is strong, and I shift around in order to get a gentle massage in my most tense parts. I hardly wanted to wash and get out, but knowing what was to come once I step out of the bathroom was encouraging enough. I take a moment to relish how thick and soft the towels are, drying my face and putting my hair up with one towel before drying off with the other. I scrub my mouth well with the toothbrush left for me, even brushing my lips to help them be soft and smooth. The outfit is shameful, and I hadn't quite realized how little material there was when it was in the bag. I struggle to put it on, but once I do I feel grateful for how silky it is. I tie the strap behind my neck, but all it does is push the underwire up and push my open breasts out more. There's a window between the chest and the waist piece that fully exposes me, and I tentatively rub my fingertips across my nipples before moving to tie the lower back. The entire back is open, and the skirt is layer upon layer of lace and silk that only ends at my upper thighs. I face away from the mirror and peek over my shoulder as I bend over, barely needing to before my ass is fully exposed. Finally pulling my hair out of the towel, I give the still slightly damp a little fluff with my fingers until I'm content. I turn and face the door, taking a deep breath before stepping out. The air of his office is cold, and I can't help but notice how Overhaul's eyes go straight to my quickly hardening nipples. I want to cover myself with my arms, but he's quicker to comment, "Keep your arms down and come here." He tells me as he turns his chair to face me. His stare is intense, but I quiver in excitement as I slowly make my way over. He straightens up in his seat, slowly rubbing his fingers up and down my thighs. His touch is warm in contrast to the room, and I tense up as his hand comes up under the skirt. "As nervous as ever, can't imagine you've ever had the nerve to kill anyone." He says, intentionally trying to rile me up. "It's why you keep me around." I cooly comment back. He lets out a hum as his eyes go back to my chest, "Not the only reason." He responds as he reaches up to twist my nipples between his fingers. He surprises me as he pulls me down suddenly, his gloved hand on the back of my neck as he roughly guides me into his lap. I can feel his hardness beneath me, and my breath hitches at how close he suddenly is to me. It's hard to maneuver around with his mask still on, but I think it's just another way to tease me. He grips my chin and turns my head from side to side, his look making me feel like a piece of meat. "Beautiful." He whispers, making me blush. He turns us in the chair before gripping my hips and putting me up on the desk. I gasp at the cool wood underneath me, but my breath hitches in my throat as Overhaul takes off his mask. He always calls me beautiful, but his face as a whole is mesmerizing. Realizing I look awestruck, I try to turn the look into one of grumpiness, "Touch me." I tell him. "Oh, think you're giving orders now?" He comments, standing up so that he's slightly above me. I look up at him through my eyelashes, mischief in my eyes. pushes me back until my back hits the desk and part of my head hangs off the back. He leans over, taking one of my nipples into his mouth. I let out a gasp as I grip his hair, the soft locks sliding through my fingers as I lean into his hot tongue. His mouth is everywhere, kissing and nipping every part of my chest he can reach. He slowly makes his way to my collarbone, kissing along each one as he goes. His tongue slides up my neck as his hands lift my skirt and begin to massage my hips. Sometimes in moments like this, I wonder if he's touch starved, the man taking the chance to kiss and rub on every inch of my body that he can. He reaches my chin and I can tell he's taking his time reaching my lips, knowing I enjoy kissing him. My chest is heaving against his nearly still one, and I lean my head down fast to catch his lips in a kiss. He pinches my hip, but dips his head to kiss me better. When he finally pulls away he stands up straight, there's a moment of total erotica. Seeing him stand between my spread legs was enough to make my body ache for him. He takes his time to remove his pants, the thunk of his belt nearly making me jump. His cock bobbed in the air and I couldn't help but keep my eyes on it. He suddenly grabs me by the back of my thighs and yanks me forward, his cock gliding easily along my soaked lips. He grabs himself by the base, rubbing the tip along as he coaxes me, "you going to take my cock good?" "Uh-huh," I nearly whine back, waiting on bated breath for him to fill me. When he finally does, I loud groan comes from me. I don't have time to think about how stuffed I feel, since he goes straight to plunging himself deep into me. My entire body shakes as he works me at a fast pace. He has my legs pulled back, hands pushing down on the back of my thighs as he stares at my bouncing tits. Lewd moans are ripped from me at every thrust, my hands desperately reaching out to hold onto something as a way of grounding myself. Suddenly he puts his hand between us, flicking my clit with his fingertips to stimulate me. "Come for me." He commands, something I was ready to do anyways. It only takes a few more deep thrusts to push me into seeing stars, my hands finding the edge of the desk above me and my knuckles going white. "Good girl," He comments as he speeds up, the overstimulation a lot before he suddenly stills, a groan slipping from his lips as he bottoms out in me. I realize he's cumming in me, and my body shudders as he slowly pulls out. a mixture of our cum oozes out of my slit and onto the floor, causing a scowl to cross across his face at the sight. "Get the shower ready," He tells me as he pulls me off his desk before walking over to a cabinet full of cleaning supplies. I pout, "But all this hot water's gonna make my skin dry!" "Y/N." He speaks lowly as he glares at me over his shoulder. I let out a soft chuckle as I do as he says, only giving in cause I know what's to come once he joins me in the shower.

#overhaul x reader #overhaul smut #mha x reader #mha smut

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here4theheartbreak · 3 years

Text

A Calculated Risk (VHope)

⭒ AO3 Link Here!

⭒ Relationships: Hoseok x Taehyung ⭒ Genre: fluff, strangers to lovers ⭒ Final Rating: General Audiences ⭒ Word Count (Chapter): ~5.1k

⭒ Tags: fluff, getting together, strangers to lovers, anxious Hoseok, art student Taehyung, pre-slash

⭒ Summary: When Hoseok sees the crying young man on the plane next to him, he wonders if the calculated certainty of his life is really worth the loneliness.

⭒ A/N: This fic was written for our lovely sunshine Hoseok’s birthday!

Hoseok was good at staying out of trouble. He kept his head down, his nose out of business that wasn’t his, and his hands clean. It was how he’d gotten to become the youngest sales manager in his company. At twenty-six, it was unheard of to be such a powerful figure in the industry. Yet there he was, flying to a variety of countries, meeting with powerful men and women, convincing them to sign up, make contracts, do business. He liked his job okay. He did it well, he was charming, and he enjoyed being the face of a business that did good things for the world. But a part of Hoseok felt like there was something missing. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Rather… He knew what it was, but he didn’t want to know. He was lonely as hell. Random one night stands in a variety of hotel rooms that started to all look alike across the continents, a series of failed relationships with every gender and sex – most of them summing up to a singular thing. You’re too nice. There was never any excitement in Hoseok’s life, and he liked it that way. Excitement, the unknown, these were variables that did not turn out guaranteed positive results. And that’s what Hoseok’s life was built on. Taking risks was not in his vocabulary.

So, when Hoseok found himself seated next to the stunning young man with dark eyes and big ears on the way home from Canada, despite that fact that he desperately wanted to say something… He remained quiet. And he intended to remain quiet the entire way back to Korea. It was for the best. This man looked like a risk taker. Someone that Hoseok could never make happy.

Hoseok let his eyes slip shut, tapping out a rhythm on his arm rest. They’d been in the air for about an hour, and the young man had been staring at his phone the whole time. Easy then, to avoid contact, he figured.

He heard a sniffle, and grimaced; hopefully the boy wasn’t sick. He couldn’t afford to catch cold. He’d need to pick up some vitamin c just in case. Another sniffle, and a shaky sigh. Hoseok scowled. He cracked one eye and peeked over.

The young man was still looking at his phone, his blondish hair hanging down. But in the part of his exposed face, Hoseok could see tear tracks; he’d been crying. He was crying.

Hoseok shut his eyes again, his mouth forming a fine line.

‘Stay out of it, Hobi. Not your problem. Stranger on a plane. Stranger danger. Avoid risk. Crying handsome boy is a risk.’

“Are you okay?” The words were out of Hoseok’s mouth before he was even aware of asking

The boy looked over, sniffled, and nodded. His chin began to quiver and he shook his head no, but quickly yanked his hood up over his face, pulling his knees to his chest.

“I’ll be more quiet,” he whispered. His voice was low and rumbly, immediately sending chills of the good variety down Hosoek’s spine.

“No, I—That wasn’t it. You just look sad. Can I help?”

The boy shook his head no. “Just a breakup.”

Hoseok winced. “I’ve been through a lot of those,” he whispered, nodding. “I know you’ve probably heard it a lot from friends, but it does get easier.”

“I know. I’m sure it will. I just can’t believe I was so stupid… Coming all the way across the world to see him and he just—” He broke off. “Sorry.”

“No, continue.”

‘What are you doing, Hoseok. This is a risk. Risks are unnecessary in your life. Stop it.’ “It helps to vent sometimes. And we have plenty of hours.”

The boy nodded and chuckled weakly, swallowing hard. “He—We met online. And we hit it off and he promised… He promised me so much. So I saved up for years while we dated.. To come to Canada. To meet him and he just… One weekend and he dumped me.”

“Did he say why?”

“He found someone else. Someone who lives there. Turns out he’s been dating him for about six months… Didn’t tell me.”

“Oh God, what an asshole,” Hoseok muttered, his face twisting up in anger. “That’s fucking low, if you don’t mind me saying. Sure, breakups happen, but to be cheating, and to not tell you before…”

“He said he only wanted me to come so he could try to get a threesome in before we broke up. Figured I’d be happy to get his dick in real life once.” The boy gasped then and closed his mouth fast enough that his teeth clicked. “Oh God, I’m so sorry – that was way too much information.”

Hoseok chuckled. “A bit, but it’s okay. You didn’t sleep with the jackass did you?”

“God no, I’m not wasting my time. He can sleep with his creepy little affair on his own.”

“Good on you.” Hoseok hesitated before sticking his hand out. “My name’s Jung Hoseok.”

“Kim Taehyung. Are you from Korea?”

“Mhm, I live in Seoul. I was in Canada on business.”

“Really? What do you do?”

“I work for a company that helps supply hospitals with different equipment. We have contracts with a lot of countries. I go and sorta try to sell them the products, make sure they’re happy with what we’re doing, contracts, deals, all boring stuff.”

“But you get to travel? All over?”

Hoseok nodded. “Pretty much. It’s one of the perks of the job. Busy, but it’s nice to be on the move. What about you? You look pretty young.”

“Says you. All that stuff, sounds like you should be forty.”

Hoseok chuckled. “I should be. I’m lucky to have this position so young. I’m twenty-six.”

“I’m twenty-four. I just finished college. Art school. So… I’m unemployed.” Taehyung shrugged, looking down at his lap. “My friend says the coffee shop he’s working at is hiring, so I’ll check that out when I get back to Seoul.”

“What kind of art do you do?” Hoseok asked.

“All kinds, mostly drawing and photography. Uh…” Taehyung turned and grabbed his carry on. He pulled out a large black binder and held it up for a second. “You probably—Is this weird?” He asked.

“What?”

“I’m a stranger to you. You don’t really care about this. Or me…”

“I saw a handsome guy crying next to me. And, in talking to him… He stopped the tears. I care.” Hoseok held out his hand, letting Taehyung hand him the binder. He went through it page by page, blown away by the talent he saw encased in thin plastic sheets. The young man had an eye for detail, and for beauty. His photography in particular was absolutely stunning. Everything from piles of rocks to buildings to people, both posed and candid. His drawn art was unique and abstract, making Hoseok turn the book this way and that to really take in everything that was going on.

While he looked, he could feel Taehyung watching him, and could nearly sense the anxiety rolling off him. He cared what a stranger sitting next to him on a plane thought… It was sweet, and sad.

He finally closed the book and handed it back. “You’re only twenty-four?” He asked.

Taehyung nodded, chewing his bottom lip. “That work is stunning for your age, Taehyung. You’re really going to go a long way. I encourage you to look at companies you might not consider originally. Bigger tech companies and others that may not delve into the arts. They’re always looking for designers and photographers, and I bet your portfolio would really impress some of them. It’s probably not what you want to do long term, but a contract with a powerful company could really get you moving in the right direction. At least get you some funding if you wanted to do your own business or something similar.”

As Hoseok spoke, he could see Taehyung’s smile growing. It warmed his heart. Taehyung’s phone buzzed on his lap and he looked down, the smile that Hoseok had just put there drooping.

“The dickhead boyfriend, huh?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Taehyung emphasized, and Hoseok nodded. “He’s trying to make up with me.”

“And what do you want?”

“Him to go the fuck away. Forever. He broke my heart, he’s not allowed to do this.”

“Then ignore it.” Hoseok shrugged. “Turn off the phone. Let me buy you a drink.”

“Wh—What?”

Hoseok motioned to the stewardess that was making her way down the aisle. “Let’s keep your mind off the jerk, at least until you land. I’ll buy you a drink and we can watch some movies together.”

Taehyung smiled again, his eyes seeming to be searching Hoseok’s face for something. Hoseok motioned to the waitress, handing over his card. “I’ll have a beer, if you have any, and then whatever my friend here wants.”

She nodded. Taehyung smiled shyly. “Uh, I—I’ll take uh… Something sweet?” She nodded.

“I could make you a pineapple rum, if you’d like, it’s pretty sweet.”

Taehyung nodded as well. “I like pineapple.” She handed Hoseok his bottle and his card back after popping the cap off, as well as a cup to pour it in if he wanted. She set to work mixing Taehyung’s drink and passed it to him as well before continuing down the aisle. Hoseok reached out and tapped the screen in front of Taehyung.

“What genre gets your mind off idiot boys? Whatever you want.”

“Uh—I don’t know. I don’t watch movies that much, I guess…”

“Hm.” Hoseok flipped through the screen. “Not romance… Not drama. Tragedy. We could do comedy? Uh.. Action. Uh…”

“That one,” Taehyung pointed at an image of a cover. Hoseok hesitated. “That’s horror.”

Taehyung nodded.

“You like horror, eh?” He clicked it, trying not to sound as panicked as he felt. Good to know he figured – more proof this insane… Whatever the hell he was trying to do… Wouldn’t work. Those who liked horror took risks. And risks—

“I hate horror,” Taehyung said.

“So why watch it?”

“Because it’s scary and I hate it. It’ll keep my attention so I won’t be thinking about him.”

Hoseok hesitated, thinking for a moment. He had to admit, it was pretty sound reasoning. He nodded.

“Do you have headphones?”

Taehyung pulled out a handful of wire from his bag and nodded. Hoseok waved over the stewardess. “Do you have a jack splitter?” He asked. She nodded and dug around for a moment, handing one over to him.

“Thank you.”

They got set up with the splitter and Taehyung pulled down the window shield. Hoseok lifted the arm rest so they could sit a little closer, sharing the same small screen as the movie began. Hoseok hated horror so much. Within twenty minutes he was gripping the other armrest, his leg bouncing nervously. Taehyung had moved almost direction against his side and was gripping his other arm tightly, his eyes wide as he stared at the screen.

Each jump scare Hosoek and Taehyung would both jump, sharing a nervous glance and a giggle afterward.

Hoseok reached up at one point, taking Taehyung’s hand and twining their fingers. When Taehyung blinked at him, he smiled. “Easier to squeeze if you get scared. Less likely to scream.”

Taehyung grinned that bright grin again and nodded, looking back at the movie.

They made it through the rest of it, jumping and squeezing each other’s hands. Hoseok finished his drink and was tempted to order another, but figured sobriety would be an easier state to tackle scary movies in. When it finished, Taehyung reached out, finding the sequel and grinning at Hoseok.

“Another?”

Hoseok hesitated, but nodded. That smile… It was something else entirely. The way his heart picked up a few beats when Taehyung rested his head on his shoulder again, twining their fingers on the seat between them. The waitress came by and smiled softly. “Can I get you two anything?” She asked.

“We’re okay, I think. Taehyung?”

“I’m good. Thank you,” Taehyung smiled up at her and she nodded. The two turned their attention back to the film.

Six hours and three sequels later, Hoseok heard a soft snore. He shifted as gently as he could to see, smiling a bit when he realized Taehyung had fallen asleep on his shoulder. His heart still did that little pitter-patter. This was a problem. How could he let himself fall for a guy he’d just met? A guy who was willing to fly across the world to meet a stranger? A young, handsome guy who probably took risks like Hoseok changed socks and thought that going out without properly re-lacing his shoes every morning was totally acceptable. As Hoseok sat in silence, no longer needing to focus in order to potentially distract Taehyung as needed, his mood soured.

What was so wrong with him that people wanted nothing to do with him? He was safe, sure. And he was peculiar… But he wasn’t a bad man, he thought. Just because he didn’t take risks didn’t mean he was no fun. Or wasn’t a good person to be around. But time and time again that was the message. Not good enough. Not fun enough. Not exciting enough.

And this – this foolish idea that had begun formulating in his head, the fantasy that maybe this young man would be willing to give him a chance – it was frivolous at best. It was an unnecessary risk. The statistics, if Hoseok were to crunch them, were sure to show that the chances of Taehyung saying yes were low enough, staying with him beyond one date even lower, and staying with him long term statistically insignificant. So he was best just getting it out of his head now, before it sat and festered like a wound.

The film ended, as the others had, with a “dead” monster and a jump scare to leave it open, and Hoseok was too unhappy to even startle. He tugged the earbuds out and turned off the screen, sinking down a little to try and rest. And – despite his bitter mood as he drifted off to sleep – he couldn’t help but notice just how nice Taehyung felt on his shoulder.

Hoseok awoke with a good, hard stretch, blinking up at the roof of the plane. “Rest well?” Taehyung’s voice was soft and deep, and Hoseok felt goosebumps rise to his skin.

“I did. Did you?” He asked.

Taehyung nodded, leaning his head on the back of the seat. He shifted over and pulled his legs up into the seat so he was facing Hoseok directly. “Do you have a partner at home?”

“A what?”

“You know… Boyfriend or girlfriend.”

Hoseok shook his head. “Just me on my own. I work too much for dating.”

“Not true, necessarily,” Taehyung argued.

Hoseok half smiled. “That, and all my exes have told me I’m too boring.” He reached out and tapped the screen; fifteen minutes until they were set to land.

“Boring?”

“I don’t like unnecessary risk,” Hoseok explained. “I don’t like being surprised and I prefer to plan things so that they will – in as much statistical assurance as they can – go in the right direction.”

“I don’t see that as such a bad thing.”

Hoseok laughed. “You’d be one of the few. Most leave because I’m just too safe.”

“Sometimes people… Some people… Need safe,” Taehyung argued. He rested his chin on his knees. “I need safe.”

“You’re quite wounded,” Hoseok agreed, wondering if he was reading between the lines in the way Taehyung meant – or if it was wishful thinking.

The two sat in a comfortable silence as the plane descended. At least Hoseok figured it was comfortable. He was anxious, as he tended to be in social situations where he wasn’t sure what the other party was thinking. But Taehyung seemed relaxed, sitting next to him, flipping through his phone. Hoseok wondered if he was reading messages from the ex, or someone new. Did people move on so fast? He didn’t know. Usually other people asked him out, and he calculated the risk based on how well he knew them – not the other way around.

The two got off the plane and headed to the luggage carousel together, not purposely, but also not purposely straying from one another’s side either. As they waited, Taehyung looked over.

“ Am I right in thinking you’re gay?” He asked abruptly.

Hoseok blinked, hesitated… Then nodded. “You are.”

“And single. And a sweet guy who helped a crying stranger on the plane.”

“Wouldn’t you have?”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung admitted, shrugging. He snagged his suitcase from the belt. “Let me give you my phone number.”

Hoseok took his own bag. “Why?”

“So we can go out on a date.”

Hoseok smiled sadly. “Taehyung…”

Taehyung’s smile drooped a little. “Oh. I misread.”

Hoseok shook his head. “Yes and no. You are a handsome young man, and I do find you interesting and fun to listen to. But we don’t know each other. And because of that, I can’t calculate the risk of going out with you.”

“So why not get to know each other? That’s what the point of dating is.”

“True. And I could, except even only knowing you for this short time… I can say with relative confidence that you would have minimal interest in me beyond a date or two.”

“And why is that?” Taehyung asked.

“I’m not your type.”

“Shouldn’t I decide that?” Taehyung chuckled. “You’re cute, nice, independent.”

“And utterly boring. While you’re the type that watches horror movies to feel better, and flies across oceans to meet a stranger in the hopes of finding true love. I could never take such risks. Or any risks, really. That’s why I’m not good for you.”

“Yeah, well look how good taking risks did me.”

“This time, maybe. But that’s the thing about risks. They can end badly. I don’t like that. I don’t like things ending badly.”

Taehyung sighed softly. His head drooped a little but he nodded. “I wish that wasn’t your answer, but I appreciate you being honest.”

Hoseok smiled weakly. “Look, Taehyung. You’re young, you’re handsome as hell, you’re talented. You’ll find a person to treat you right. That’s a good match for you.”

“I hope he’s like you, honestly.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know enough to know you’re smart and thoughtful. I hope he’s the type of person who’d help a crying stranger on a plane.” Taehyung reached out and grabbed Hoseok’s wrist. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “Risks are scary, but the only way to truly be happy sometimes, is to take them. Just remember that. You took one today and you changed my whole mood – Possibly my whole week. Risks don’t always end badly, but you’ll never know unless you take them.” He let him go and sighed, pulling the handle up on his bag. “Have a good life, Hoseok. Maybe I’ll see you around one of these days.”

“Same to you, Taehyung. Keep your chin up.” Hoseok watched Taehyung walk off before heading off himself. Strangely, as he rode the bus back to his apartment (he’d calculated that the bus was far safer at this hour as opposed to a taxi), he felt… Not so sure about his decision with Taehyung.

He’d weighed his options, and saying yes to Taehyung had seemed like the riskier option. And risk equaled bad news. That motto had always worked for Hoseok. So why did it feel so bad?

As the days passed, turned into weeks, Hoseok thought less of Taehyung. He sometimes wondered where he was, what he was doing, if he found a good job or a nice boyfriend. If he ever thought of the strange, kind stranger on the plane who turned him down in the airport. Doubtful, Hoseok figured. He wasn’t memorable enough.

Whenever he did think of Taehyung, a small, painful knot formed in his stomach. The internet had said it was probably cancer, as those sites are apt to do, but his best friend, a med student, had ruled it as simply regret. Impossible, really, Hoseok didn’t have regrets. That was the great thing about calculating risks. He was confident in his choices and therefore had no need for regrets. Except this one, maybe.

Two and a half months after Taehyung and Hoseok had departed the airport, Hoseok was having a bad day.

He’d woken up late – something he never did. He’d been forced to take a bus because it was safer than a taxi at the hour he’d be on the road, but it also made him an hour late. On the way to his office, briefcase and coffee in hand, he’d tripped – having tied his shoelace haphazardly – and spilled his coffee down his front in an attempt to prevent himself from face planting into the wall. Which meant a trip to the nearby mall – this time walking distance – to get a replacement shirt, seeing as he had a presentation… That he was three minutes and fourteen seconds late to.

After the fiasco of the presentation, Hoseok sat outside for a few minutes during his lunch, attempting to re-gather his bearings and finish his day strong. It was working too. He felt calmer, he felt like the rest of the day would be great. Just a quick pop over to one of the quick eateries to grab a bite before his lunch hour was finished. He flipped his wrist to check the time, scowling when nothing but tanned skin peeked out of his shirtsleeve. Right. He’d forgotten to put on his watch in his rush this morning. No problem, the world was technologically advanced for a reason. He opened his briefcase and pushed some papers around, hunting for his phone. It was tucked away in the pocket. And absolutely dead when Hoseok tried the power button.

He huffed and snapped his briefcase shut.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he called to a middle-aged woman walking across the sidewalk in front of him. He bowed politely. “Sorry to bother you, but do you have the time? My phone is dead.”

“Oh, of course. It’s one forty-three.”

Hoseok’s eyes bulged. He scrambled to his feet, startling the woman.

“Sorry!” He cried, bowing again. “Late back to work. Thank you so much.”

He rushed off toward the office once more, feeling even more frazzled than when he’d left for lunch. How had he sat there for a full hour and fifteen minutes nearly? He never lost track of time like that. His days were simply too busy.

Hoseok berated himself as he turned into his office building. How had his day turned out so badly? He hadn’t done anything different the night before. There was no change in diet or weather or season or schedule to throw him off. So what the hell was going on?

Hoseok was so up in his head that he failed to see the young man turning the corner as he did. The two collided, and Hoseok went down, skidding on his butt as his briefcase, not shut firmly from his earlier panic, opened and scattered papers across the hall. The man in front of him swore then gasped as he fell as well.

Hoseok looked at him, his eyes bulging. “Taehyung?!” He spluttered.

Taehyung gasped, yanking his headphones from his ears. His hair was shorter, a little neater to his head, and he was wearing a nice dress shirt and slacks. He had a black binder under his arm. “Hoseok!”

He scrambled to his feet, setting the binder down and going to help Hoseok gather the papers.

“How have you been?”

“Good, what are you doing here?” Hoseok asked, piling them back in his briefcase.

“I’ve got a job interview. I mean I had one. For my art. This place is looking for a new marketing team member and I thought my photography and art might be good. Plus, I’ve improved my computer art skills too. What about you? Why are you here?”

“I work here,” Hoseok said, standing up straight and brushing himself off.

“No way, what a crazy coincidence,” Taehyung said, grinning. “They really liked my stuff.”

“We’re in desperate need of some fresh blood in that department,” Hoseok agreed. He hesitated, his heart doing a strange little stutter step now that they stood so close to one another.

“How have you been?” He asked after a second.

Taehyung smiled a little distantly. “I’m okay. I got over the breakup. Took some time, but I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah? Found a new partner?” What a strange feeling, Hoseok thought. That clench in my chest. I hope it’s not heart trouble…

“No, still single.”

Ah, it’s released now, probably just a fluke from my crazy day.

“I see,” Hoseok replied lamely.

“And you? Found someone perfectly safe?”

“Not really looking,” Hoseok admitted. “I mean, not opposed, but… I tend not to ask people. Ah…” He shrugged awkwardly. “When do you find out if you get the job?”

“They’ll call me later this week.”

“Ah, good. Well. Maybe I’ll see more of you around then. Must be going now…” He hesitated once more before moving past Taehyung toward the stairs. Taehyung grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Hoseok… The airport. When you refused me…”

Hoseok swallowed hard, lowering his gaze.

“I’m glad you did. I needed time to recover mentally from the breakup and get myself back together.”

“Good. I’m glad. You’ll be all the better for it.”

“But,” Taehyung pressed, still not letting his wrist go. “But I haven’t stopped thinking about you. And my interest in you hasn’t faded.”

“Taehyung…”

“I don’t want danger right now, Hoseok. I want you to know that. I want calm. I want peace and relaxation and a steady, firm ground. Someone to support me, that I can support just as much. Someone who isn’t going to go wild, and would rather stay inside playing a board game or snuggle on the couch with a good action movie than go run a marathon. Just so you know.” Taehyung let him go, his face pinching for a moment.

Hoseok hesitated, not sure how to respond. His hesitation must have told Taehyung something though, because Taehyung tugged a pen out of his pocket. He walked over to the entrance desk, thankfully unmanned for lunch, and snagged a sticky note from it. He scrawled on it and slapped it into Hoseok’s palm.

“It’s a risk. I know that. But think about it. I’m free this week… Pretty much all week.”

Hoseok nodded, taking the paper. “I will. Be safe… The cars…”

“I will. Enjoy work.” Taehyung put his earbuds back into his ears and grabbed his portfolio before he headed out the door.

Hoseok watched him go before looking at the sticky note in his hand. Taehyung’s number was written on it, along with his name. Hoseok’s chest clenched again, and his stomach knotted up in that little twist. So maybe he did like Taehyung. He sighed and tucked the number into his pocket before hurrying up the stairs to try and get some work done before he ended up staying late.

Unfortunately, the events of lunch did not lend themselves well to an atmosphere of hard work and focus. Hoseok’s mind kept drifting. To Taehyung, to the number in his pocket, to what he’d said. He wanted safe. He described exactly the type of man that Hoseok was. Safe, boring in the eyes of so many, and said that was his ideal. Was he being honest? There was no reason for him to lie, really, Hoseok figured. So why not be honest. Would it change? Maybe. Probably, if he was being honest with himself. Most of the time humans did change. But was that such a bad thing?

Of course it’s a bad thing. Change is uncalculated… Change is a risk.

“Shut up,” Hoseok whispered to himself. He scooped up his desk phone and dug Taehyung’s number out of his pocket.

Taehyung picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Is this Taehyung?”

“Hoseok? Yeah it’s me.”

“I’m free tomorrow night. I thought I’d be free tonight but… I seem to be quite distracted and will likely not be leaving the office in time for dinner.”

“Tomorrow night,” Taehyung repeated. Hoseok could hear what he thought was a smile in his voice. “Dare I suggest… I could pick you up something for dinner. If you wanted. Since I know where you work.”

Hoseok hesitated. What if he was late tomorrow because of it? What if he couldn’t sleep? What if he said something silly to Taehyung because he was tired? “I—”

“Too big of a risk?” Taehyung offered.

“Yes. I’m sorry. Was this a mistake? I’m so strange.”

Taehyung’s laugh was bright, and Hoseok’s heart skipped a few beats. “You’re not weird. You are. But I like it. Tomorrow night is fine, but please remember to eat tonight, okay? Even if it’s something quick. You’re going to feel worse if you don’t.”

“You are likely correct.”

“Is this a cell phone?”

“No, office… My cell phone is dead.”

“Well, when it charges, why don’t you text me. You can pick a place, I’m not really all that picky about food except I don’t like super spicy things. We can decide the best way to meet up and the details then, or tomorrow morning and afternoon. Does that work?”

“That sounds good. Very planned… Thank you for being patient and understanding.”

“I want this to work out, Hoseok.”

Hoseok hesitated. “I’d say… It’s a calculated risk.”

“How are the rewards?” Taehyung asked, a grin in his tone. “Do they greatly outweigh the risks?”

Hoseok smiled a little to himself. “No. Frankly, they are… Probably pretty balanced. But with great risk comes great reward, or whatever the daredevils say, right? This reward seems too good to pass up.”

“And what reward is that?” Taehyung teased.

“Oh, one of a kind. A beautiful boy. Even better, one that is okay with me being weird and boring.”

“Sounds like a good reward.”

“I agree. So… I’ll text you when I get off work and charge my phone, okay?”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

“Goodnight.” Hoseok hung up, staring at his phone for a moment after he did. What a risk. That was a huge risk, who was he kidding?

He turned back to his computer, working on spreadsheets while going through a mental list of good restaurants for a first date. It was a risk, no denying that. But sometimes, every now and then, the reward is worth the risk.

#vhope #thebtswritersclub #bangtanarmynet #btsguild #networkbangtan #bangtanxm #fluff #taeseok #taehyung x hoseok

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mrsmarymorstan · 4 years

Note

Do you have any headcanons for all the Fruits Basket couples?

OKAY so I’ve been thinking about this one, so that’s why it’s kind of late.

I have headcanons for ALL the couples, and if I don’t have any existing well then I sure do now! I’m gonna stick with one headcanon per canon couple though, because otherwise we’d be here till the END OF TIME! There WILL be Manga Spoilers here too FYI! So back away if you care about such tings. Anyway, without further ado:

1) Kyo X Tohru

Kyo tries so desperately to do the chores for Tohru but she’s just too stubborn about things and it’s programmed into her now! He gets sick and tired of being forced to sit down as she cleans the floors and cooks dinner, that he starts to enforce a STRICT rota where in they split duties each day. So one night Kyo will cook and Tohru will wash up, and the next Kyo will clean the bathroom whilst Tohru does the kitchen and so on. People go to their house and side eye the fact that they need a PHYSICAL ROTA to decide these things, aren’t they MARRIED? And Kyo just shakes his head because “it’s the only way she’ll let me do anything. The rota MUST be enforced at all costs.”

When Tohru becomes pregnant the rota gets replaced with things like “Relax and put your feet up because you are eight months pregnant STOP TRYING TO CLEAN THE FLOOR!”

2) Machi X Yuki

One of their first PROPER dates together was to a Summer Festival! It wasn’t intended as a double date but once Komaki and Kakeru found out they were going they INSISTED on going as a group! Komaki dressed Machi up in a Yukata, and Yuki did the whole =O moment when she arrived looking so beautiful. Kakeru has photos of it on his phone.

However the moment Yuki treasures the most is when Machi pushed her purse into his hands so she could take on the air-gun game stand because they had an exclusive piece of Mogeta merchendise. He will forever remember the determined look on her face as she won toy after toy until eventually she got the correct number of bulls eyes. Yuki offered to try to win it for her, but she just shouted him down because NO! She has to do this FOR HERSELF!

And if Yuki weren’t already in love....

3) Haru X Rin

Haru and Rin attend the same Art and Design school together after graduation. Rin had to defer for a couple of years because of her health and of course the need to study for the entrance exams/portfolio review (I don’t know how Japanese Art & Design courses work....) They’re get a bit of a reputation on campus as a power couple. She studies Fine Art and he studies Fashion. Haru often features in her paintings and drawings, and she is his Go To model for all his designs. This continues when they graduate and Haru becomes a full time fashion designer (occasionally doing leather work for Ayame) and Rin starts selling her paintings and takes commissions. The reason Sora & Riku have so many matching outfits is just that they’re from Haru’s fashion line!

4) Mitsuru X Ritsu

Clothes Swapping!!!! So much clothes swapping. Ritsu teachers her how to wear Furisode (until of course she’s no longer an unmarried woman wa-haaay!) and Mitsuru helps him find suits that actually suit him! And yes, that does include skirts. Their shared wardrobe is just that, a shared wardrobe. There’s a few things that need to be taken into consideration like height and so on, but on the whole their clothes are very much interchangeable. Ritsu does work in a bit more colour into Mitchan’s wardrobe though! So she’s not stuck looking too dower all the time.

For their wedding, Ritsu wore a dress and Mitsuru wore a suit and were BOTH all the more comfortable for it.

5) Hatori X Mayuko

I’ve mentioned this before, I think, but I recon Mayu was already pregnant when they got married. It wasn’t the DECIDING factor on things, but when they found out she was pregnant for CERTAIN Hatori began to make plans to sort out the paperwork for their marriage. Mayuko denied him at first, just because it felt so sudden but came back the next day because yes, you’re right I do love you and I already know I want to keep this baby so yeah. Let’s do this thing!

The kids were all very freaked out when they did the maths and realised that Kinu-chan was the result of unprotected sex... they literally had to sit through talks with them BOTH about How Not To Get Pregnant!!! Could they not take THEIR OWN ADVICE???

They are very much in love though, and are excellent parents to Kinu.

BONUS: Upon getting married, Mayu realised that based on Hatori’s standing she now “outranked” all those Shitty Zodiac Parents and was just like “Oh I am going to WRECK these people for the things they did to my Kids!”

Because yes, Mayu IS the greatest Teacher, her pupils all mean the WORLD to her, and the only thing holding her back before from kicking their arses was the fear of getting fired... but they’ve all graduated now SO COME HERE YOU FUCKERS TIME TO END YOU!

6) Ayame X Mine

They were the first couple to get married after the curse broke. The wedding was an incredibly gay affair. Ayame wore a wedding dress and MIne wore a suit (this is what inspird Ritsu and Mitchan a few years later) and they all looked AMAZING. There were several costume changes throughout the whole affair, so Mine DID get to wear cute dresses and Ayame looked dapper in some suits... but it was honestly a competition as to what sort of gender-presentation they were going to have each time they went to get changed.

They had so many costume and venue changes that by their ACTUAL wedding night they were too exhausted to do anything more than cuddle up close together. But in all honesty? That was a better moment then any sex could ever hope to be! They finally got to be public about their love and PROPERLY hold one another in PUBLIC?! The love on their faces was so pure that not even Kyo could feel weird about it.

7) Kakeru/Komaki

When Kakeru eventually proposed to Komaki he planned to be really cool and suave but actually just cried the whole way through to the point where Komaki had to ask the question for him. Their wedding was a simple affair, because they wanted to save money to move in together properly. Kakeru’s dad was actively NOT invited. He literally got an invite saying “This is the date and the time and we would like to make sure that you are not within 1KM of the event you fucker.”

8) Akito X Shigure

They actually understood the amount of unhealthy elements linked with their relationship and took things really slowly. They even attended couples therapy so they could work everything out maturely, and so when they eventually decided to try for a child it was once they were in a really secure and solid relationship. They did NOT want to repeat the mistakes of their parents in ANY way!

#Furuba #Fruits Basket #Furuba Manga Spoilers #Kyoru #Yuchi #Anonymous

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a-lockman5 · 4 years

Text

Things were different now Pt. 2 - 2AM Toast {Devi x Paxton}

A/N: Ayyyy so I just felt the creative juices flowing and wanted to whip this out before they went away again. I had a blast writing this. I kept trying to proofread it but got caught up in the story again (Whoops!), so if I missed some typos, apologies. Also, I don’t own these characters (obviously), but I do love them.

Warnings: more fluff/angst, blood/injury - NO SELF HARM, scared Paxton is cute

Here is part 1 if you haven’t read it yet!

Take a look at my MASTERLIST for more to read or inspo for requests :)

“Paxton?”

Holy shit. Paxton jumped six feet in the air at the sound of her voice. It was two o’clock in the morning. Why was anyone up? Why was Devi Vishwakumar in his house?

“Devi, what the hell?” he panted, still catching his breath from the scare she’d given him. “What are you doing?”

“I was getting a soda from the garage,” she replied, eyes wide. “I thought you were on a college visit this weekend.”

“Tomorrow. Dad and I are driving up tomorrow. What are you doing in my house?”

“Becca invited me over.” He could tell she was still tense, her eyes staring directly into his. “I didn’t think you were here.”

They’d hardly spoken since she and Gross started dating. She tried to apologize a few weeks ago when Rebecca invited her over for dinner. Paxton acted like it was fine. Why wouldn’t it be? They were just friends. Sure, they’d kissed after the party that one night, but it wasn’t like she owed him anything. Besides, he was the one that blew her off at school two days later. She didn’t owe him anything, and he knew that. And besides that, she and Gross made sense. They were both way smart and in the same class and could challenge each other intellectually and her friends seemed to like him and… he was rambling internally. The point was, he and Devi agreed they were friends and things wouldn’t be weird. And now, almost a month later, they were talking in his hallway at 2AM, and it was definitely weird.

“Cool,” he crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Becca told me you were helping her with more stuff for her portfolio. I guess that photographer didn’t know what he was talking about.”

“What?”

He shook his head slightly as his cheeks heated up. “Sorry, I just meant that he kept wanting you to stop posing, but here you are booking another gig. You’re like a real model, and I just… I don’t know.”

She laughed then. He was so embarrassed, but still couldn’t help smiling into his chest. It was her laugh that helped him be brave. “Look, Devi, we agreed things wouldn’t be awkward between us, but things feel pretty weird right now. Can we just let it go and be cool?”

Her eyes widened again and she gave him a tight lipped smile. “Yeah, definitely. I just didn’t expect” –

“To see me in the middle of the night in my own house?” he smirked.

She nodded and continued, “in your underwear with a…” she gestured wildly below his waist with her eyes closed tightly.

Paxton felt the color drain from his face. He’d been half asleep when he got up to go to the bathroom. Had he really not noticed? His hands instinctively covered his privates, though they weren’t feeling so private right now, and sure enough, there was some definite tenting going on. His eyes screwed shut, and he felt himself stumbling backward a few paces before turning his back on Devi entirely.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t… Shit. I need to go.”

He made a beeline for the bathroom and didn’t look back at her again. He slammed the door in a rush to escape the mortification he was experiencing and found himself crying out in pain. He’d shut his GD finger in the door. Jerking it out as fast as he could, he pressed the door closed with his back leant against it.

His head dropped, and a sigh escaped him. As he reached a hand up to push his hair out of his face, he almost missed the flash of red. “Goddammit!” he whispered furiously. His nail must have ripped off when he closed it in the door. Shit, did it hurt now that he was looking at it. Paxton turned to the sink and ran his finger under lukewarm water before forcing himself to put soap on it. He winced a little as it burned, but it was no where close to the painfully embarrassing encounter he’d just had with Devi. He looked down at his boxers at the reminder. Nothing like mutilating his ego and his hand to regulate his hormones – his erection had disappeared. He sighed again.

Why did he have to run into her? Why like that? Why did he just have to lose every shred of dignity he had left? Things were not like this for Paxton. He was Paxton Hall-Yoshida for goodness sake! Paxton H.Y. did not get nervous around girls. They got nervous around him! But Devi… he never got nervous around her before Gross’s party. Not like he had tonight. He was too cool to be nervous. He was good at being cool. What the hell happened?

“It doesn’t matter,” he told himself. He just needed to dress his finger so that he didn’t get blood everywhere. After rummaging through the cupboards one-handed for a few minutes, he remembered the first aid kit was in the garage from his biking accident a few months ago.

The coast was obviously clear, he knew that. He’d been in the bathroom far longer than intended, so there was no way he would cross paths with Devi again. Still, Paxton took a deep breath before nervously poking his head out the door. Sure enough, the hall was empty. Another deep breath, this time in relief, and he padded down the hallway to the garage. When he flipped the light on, his nightmare continued.

There was she was sitting on the couch – the couch they had sat on when they first met and she wanted him to… do something with her that she definitely didn’t want anymore. Her head whipped around to look at him, and her mouth fell open. Paxton pressed his head against the doorframe in defeat.

“Devi, why are you still out here?”

“I was just trying to…” she trailed off, but Paxton could tell by the look on her face that their encounter had affected her as much as it had him. He didn’t need to hear her say it.

“Alright, just let me put some shorts on.” At least the laundry room was right off the garage. He started to climb into a pair of basketball shorts while keeping his right hand aloft with toilet paper wrapped around his middle finger.

“Holy shit, what happened to your hand? Did you do it on purpose? Did you bite the nail down until it bled? Is it some side effect of the ‘roids you’re taking for swimming?”

Paxton jumped in surprise at being scared by Devi’s presence in the middle of the night... in his house... for the third time. This time, as he was off-balance, he immediately got tangled in his shorts and ended up on his side against the cold tile floor. He wanted to cry, he thought as he laid there. Why had this night turned into such a terror? Was he actually dreaming? Was he going to wake up and Devi would be asleep at her own house, in her own bed, and he the same? He would pray to a million gods to make that happen.

“Devi, why are you doing this to me?”

“I wasn’t trying to” – she broke off. “Here, come on, I got you.”

She steadied him at the elbow as he leaned on her to stand. She continued to let him lean on her as he finished donning his shorts with his affected arm out of harms way. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“Sorry, I asked about steroids. I know you don’t.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know that,” she nodded. “Sorry for scaring you too… What did you do to your hand though?”

Paxton exhaled in a huff. “I shut it in the bathroom door.”

“Oh good! When you yelled, I thought you racked yourself or something.” Devi sighed in relief. Paxton’s eyes narrowed in a glare at her. “Sorry. Do you have a first aid kit?”

“It’s in the garage,” he laughed despite himself.

“Ah. Yeah, that makes sense. Well, come on.”

She led him back into the garage and over to the couch. He sat down at her instruction. “Devi, you don’t have to” –

“Shut up. You can’t dress it with one hand. Besides, I’ve watched so many medical YouTube channels, it’ll be fun,” she said, plopping down next to him. “Come on, give it here.”

He knew there was no use arguing with her and let her pull his hand out of his lap. He took his time looking over her as she worked on him. He’d always thought she was objectively pretty from the moment they’d met, but he didn’t know he’d end up here, thinking about how cute she was. She was careful and focused as she peeled the toilet paper away, knowing it had started to dry and stick to his wound. She whispered a quiet apology when he hissed in pain, but never took her eyes off her work. She cleaned it, applied antibiotic ointment, wrapped it up in gauge, and secured it with tape. At some point, he found himself staring at her lips, thinking about how desperately he wanted to kiss her again – how desperately he wished she wanted to kiss him.

“There, finished!” She beamed at him. It was almost enough to jerk him free of his fantasy. Almost.

“Thanks,” he smiled lazily at her.

“For sure, I owe you for all the times you rescued me.”

“Yeah, ignoring that it’s your fault I got hurt,” he smirked at her.

“What? How do you figure?”

“If you weren’t wandering the house in the middle of the night” –

“I wouldn’t have seen your pork sword through your boxers.”

“Devi, what the hell?” he looked wildly at her. “Where do you even come up with this stuff?”

“People say that,” she shrugged.

“No, Devi, they really don’t,” he shook his head and started laughing. After a moment, she laughed too, and for that moment, things were good. “God, how did you do this to me?”

That sobered her immediately. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I used to be the coolest guy in school. I’ve been going to prom since middle school. My friend’s mom hits on me. How did you make me the guy that injures himself trying to escape an embarrassing situation? That used to be your thing!”

“Paxton…”

“It’s kind of funny, ya know? The first time we were ever in here, you ran away after I took my shirt off,” he continued, unable to stop himself. “I may not be an honor student, but I do realize now that your mom does not have polio.” He saw a hint of a smile on her face and felt himself smile back. “And now, look at us: sitting on the couch together, legs touching,” he accentuated his point by bumping his knee against hers, “I’m shirtless and you’re not scared of me anymore, but…”

“But what?” she asked after a moment.

I’m so scared of you. He blinked, pushing the thought away before he could stick his foot in his mouth. “But we don’t get to act on it. We’ve come so far since we first met, but we don’t get to talk to each other like we used to… I miss talking to you.”

“I miss talking to you too.” He thought she sounded genuine. She was the only person, outside of his family, he’d ever felt comfortable opening up to. Now that she was dating Ben Gross, he didn’t get to have that anymore? Why?

“Look, I think we can agree tonight has been super weird, but you don’t need to only come over when you think I’m not here.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean, I know we said that before, but I mean it. I want to be your friend, Devi. I like you, I like hanging out with you. Can we make that work?”

It felt like hours passed while she looked at him silently. He could practically hear her thoughts pinging around in her head at a million miles a minute, but he had no idea what to expect. She was quiet for so long, he began to think she would say no. No, they couldn’t be friends. It wasn’t what she wanted anymore. Things were going to be weird between them, and there was no way around it. Paxton would have to just go on shutting his hands in doors and tripping over his gym shorts until he could move on from her – that was the only acceptable way to handle their situation. Then he saw it; he wasn’t sure if it was compassion, pity, or something else that made her eyes warm to his, but he knew he liked the way she looked at him in that moment.

“Of course, we can. I like hanging out with you too. Here,” she scrambled up off the couch and went to the refrigerator they had in the garage. She pulled out a diet mountain dew and a cherry coke zero, handing the latter to him.

“How did you…?” he stared at the soda can. His parents bought a variety of sodas, they and Becca both enjoyed having choices. The cherry coke zero was his and his only. He didn’t drink soda often, but when he did, he needed something with more flavor than a diet soda, but that wasn’t as sweet as a regular cola.

“Becca told me I could drink whatever I wanted except that. If it was hers, she’d let me have it or would have at least had some herself. Your dad was drinking a mountain dew when I got here, and your mom had a sprite when I was over for dinner a few weeks ago. It only made sense that it was left for you.”

“Anyone ever tell you, you’re smart, Vishwakumar?”

“Actually, no,” she pondered the question before flipping her hair over her shoulder and winking at him, “everyone else says I’m a genius.”

For the first time that night, he smiled a real, big smile. She mirrored his actions, and he felt warm everywhere. When she reached across the space between them, his breath caught in his throat. She popped the tab on his soda, and he felt a shaky breath escape him. “What are you doing?”

“Paxton Hall-Yoshida, we are toasting,” she replied, popping the tab on her own can.

“Why?”

“This is a new chapter in our lives, in our friendship, and we need to make it official.”

You are something special, Devi, he thought with a grin. “Okay, I’m in. What should we toast to?”

“Umm… how about no more injuries?”

“No more avoiding each other in the hallways?”

“Or each other’s gaze during history.”

“To not keeping it a secret when you’re hanging out with my sister”

– “and not scaring each other in the middle of the night with your pocket rocket at full salute.”

He snorted. “To literally never bringing that up ever again, especially not with any of those phrases.”

“Cheers!” she laughed, clinking her can against his. They both took drinks of their soda, and fell quiet again for a moment. For the first time since they’d kissed, it felt comfortable again though. There had been a very real shift in the energy between them. They could make friends work. They could spend time together. Was it going to help him move on? Certainly not. Was it going to help him cope? It was worth a try.

“There is something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” she said quietly. After their entire experience tonight, somehow she found a way to be nervous again.

“Shoot your shot, Lil D.”

“I want to go swimming. Will you help me?”

<< Part 1, Part 3>>

#never have i ever #never have i ever netflix #nhie #nhie netflix #daxton #dexton #devi x paxton #paxton x devi #paxton hall yoshida #paxton hall-yoshida #devi vishwakumar #don't mind me #i'm just putting all my head canons into one fic #writing

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jjba-hell · 4 years

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A Touch of Grey

Ah my ultimate weakness...romance...

Posting late ‘cause I made some changes last minute and 2) it seems Tungle.com wanted to delete my first publication so... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ there’s that

That aside this piece is quite mild and fluffy since the prompts I went with were Love/Tenderness as well as Established Relationship

Some trigger warning though: some seriously suggestive shit, possible PTSD on readers behalf and a mention of abandonment but overall a fluffy piece

We tagging my mutuals @giogio-gucci-gangstar , @lasquadraweek2020 and @risottoneroo

(Sorry for the inconvenience)

Reader is GN- 2,5K words

If there was one thing Prosciutto had pride himself on, it was a good place he could return to in his time off.

He was lucky enough to have inherited a duplex near Lecce with a seaside view. He figured his father was turning restlessly in his grave at the mere thought of being second-in-command for anyone, but Risotto outranked him and he’s never felt more free. He had gotten there a few days early to open the doors and windows and get some fresh air through the place- preparing for your much-deserved vacation.

While Prosciutto had been healing up in the hospital after his accident, you had taken Prosciutto’s place at Risotto’s side as he adjusted under the new Don’s reign. You’d been allowed to take a few days off to spend time with Prosciutto after rehabilitation. The weather was predicted to be nice- making for a warm and sunny summer. At least that was what the newspaper on your lap had told you as you took a sip from your coffee at the café you were instructed to wait at. You’d gotten there a bit earlier, after all.

The bill had just been paid when a convertible Porsche Spyder pulled up in front of the outside seating. You smiled past your sunglasses at the blonde seated behind the steering wheel, getting up with the duffel bag you had unceremoniously packed as soon as you got the call to come over.

The car was a vintage piece- you could tell he didn’t drive it often- simply by looking at the spotless state of the interior- so you could only assume it was because he wanted to either show off or blend in with the scene around you. But oh, did he do it well.

“You look well rested.” You commented as you leaned in for a kiss.

He gladly reciprocated, giving you a gentle but chaste kiss.

You sighed, lingering in your leaning position over the gear shift. A soft hum followed, “Definitely well rested, but didn’t quite feel like you missed me though.”

He laughed, taking off his hand from the steering wheel to lean back in to hold your face in his hands- letting just the tiniest taste of tongue into the kiss before pulling away.

Satisfied, you nodded, much more content with what you’d gotten. “That’s better.”

The drive was definitely scenic- if you weren’t gazing out at the ocean view from the cliff side, you were mesmerized by all the Mediterranean style vacation homes- one of which you pulled up to and slid into the tiny garage. You were about to take your bag but Prosciutto’s hand wrapped around the strap first.

He guided you out of the garage and towards the first landing of stairs to your left was the- “First floor. Used to be my mother’s art studio- now I just use it as storage for all the vintage pieces I need to sell.”

You didn’t really ask any further questions- figuring it wasn’t important. So you continued up the narrow stairs to the expansive second floor the two of you would be spending the most of your time in.

“Quite a gem you’ve been hiding all for yourself.” You laughed, following behind as he showed you around. He showed you the-

“Bedroom, en suite rest room of course.” He dropped the bag onto the bed and moved to show you the rest.

“Both living areas are connected to the balcony, either side of this wall and of course the kitchen.”

The kitchen was beautifully clean and overflowing with sunlight- you wondered in and opened the fridge situated near the pantry. “Stocked up, I see. Will we be cooking from scratch?” You asked before you moved closer to Prosciutto as he dropped his keys into the ceramic bowl on the kitchen counter. You gladly stretched your arms over his shoulders, stepping close enough for him to slip his hands into your back jean pockets. “Only if you want- call me old fashioned but the real thing DOES taste better.”

You laughed, softly rubbing your nose against his.

Prosciutto didn’t say anything, letting you sway him slightly in the breeze coming from the windows with nothing but a content smile on his face.

You wished you could have frozen this moment- or just never had to return to work and you hoped he felt the same. Your eyes never left his- trying to read his thoughts and delve deep enough into his soul to know absolutely everything about him, be as close to him as was humanly allowed.

You opened your mouth to speak but instead decided to curl your arms back up to take hold of his face and bring yourself even closer. His lips brushed up against yours as you whispered. “I love you.”

Prosciutto’s pupils unabashedly widened as he let out a content sigh. ��I love you more.”

He closed the last gap between you, kissing you desperately. He tasted like peppermint lip balm and his cologne was driving you mad- it smelled like woodsmoke and citrus like the fireside from the chalet you two had stayed at on a mission. You gave a soft groan against his lips before pulling him in closer to deepen the kiss even more.

He broke the kiss for a moment for breath, bringing his hands up to your face, his lips finding purchase all over your face. “I love you. I love you much. I love you.”

You held onto his wrists, humming softly which turned into a laugh as he kissed some more ticklish areas on your neck.

“Lorenzo. Didn’t think having me here could make you so happy.”

Prosciutto smiled at the use of his real name, he straightened himself again, your hand wandering over his bare chest under the buttoned-down shirt he was wearing. “Tesoro, anywhere I can have you all to myself is paradise.”

You parted from him with a mischievous smile- “Speaking of paradise...” The two of you didn’t say much after, simply hooking your pinky finger into his and slinking into the bedroom with him in tow.

You found yourself curled up with your bare back against his chest, kissing your neck softly as you two enjoyed the late afternoon sun filtering through the window into the bed.

“Something tells me this isn’t how your parents left the home to you.” You purred as you looked about the perfectly decorated room.

He scoffed at the that. “My mother had a taste for vintage styling which I can’t stand. While my salary was decent, before La Squadra, I fixed this place up piece for piece.”

Running his free hand over your arm, Prosciutto’s gaze fell on the room’s decor he had decided on- a bit ironic now with his profession, but white ran throughout the whole floor- from the bed to the curtains and especially the kitchen. A bit of antithesis but he was hoping that might change soon.

“Nice choice.” You turned around to face him, hands above you, against the mahogany backboard. “But I somehow don’t see you hand-choosing these things.”

He frowned down at you with those beautiful blue eyes as you lay your head into the crook of his arm. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked with a slight chuckle.

“The decor isn’t personal. Make no mistake, it looks immaculate- straight out of a designer’s portfolio but...impersonal.”

It didn’t take him long to understand what you meant- so he leaned down to let your noses touch. “You know too much for your own good.”

You tilted your head up so your lips could meet for a chaste kiss. “I just know you too well. Now, if we’re gonna make the pizza from scratch- we better get up. You can get the fire outside going and I’ll see what I can do about the dough.” You tied to sit up, Prosciutto’s hand jutting out and catching you by your waist, pulling you back. “One more round.” He purred as he rolled himself on top of you on the bed.

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him. “You underestimate the time you spend between my legs; you know that?”

A soft chuckled was all he gave before indulging himself in your lips once more and then so much more than that.

“MCC or red wine?” Prosciutto asked as he gazed at the wine cabinet.

“Depends on the red you have.”

You were standing at the counter, starting with the food in nothing but his shirt- admittedly doing nothing to qualm his desire to touch you but this time he indulged in his desire to fill his stomach. wanting to eat some proper food. A specific bottle of red wine caught his eye and without a second thought he brought it to the glasses he had taken out and uncorked it.

You waited excitedly until he’d poured just a teaser into his own glass before reaching for it and taking a sip. It was a new bottle, so it was unlikely it had turn acrid in the time it’d been hanging around in the wine cabinet. You took a sip at the wine that had a vivid taste of berries and spices for a red wine. Probably a limestone grown grape- more likely made to be a warmed wine for winter.

Handing him the glass again you nodded. “Imported?” You asked.

“Mhm.”

“Limestone grown?”

“Is it that easy to tell?”

“No, I just know my wine.”

He decanted the wine and gave it a moment to air as he brought a chopping board beside yours.

At the end of the night you were cleaning up the dishes, swaying softly to the music he had put on.

“Leave it for tomorrow.” He whispered in your ear as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Oh, and I presume it’s just for more wine?” You laughed, his hand finding yours and spinning your back in against his chest.

“Granted, I did pour the last round, but I do just want to dance with you.”

You only then noticed that he had already dim the lights, holding you lightly- a soft sway to his step as he whispered in your ear. “Don’t you dare claim to have two left feet-I’ve seen you dance.”

He spun you around again, gliding around the pillar splitting the kitchen from the rest of the living areas and then stopping to pull you close, pressing his his chin onto your shoulder.

“I could’ve sworn I only danced with you that night we were at that wedding- Sicily’s capo’s daughter.” You laughed at the silly mouthful but he only continued to sway before purring in your ear.

“Oh I remember. I also remember how entrancing you were-“

He ran his hands down your arms to slip onto your hips. “You were so beautiful that night, at least I think so. Your hips did a lot of talking.”

You gave a content sigh. “I’d hope you know- that outfit was on your kitchen floor the next morning.”

“It probably was.” His hands slid up higher to your waist.

You brought your hand over his to entwine your fingers together- leaning your face into his. Just as you were about to kiss him once again, the shatter of glass had you grabbing hold of his wrist and flinching back- both of your gazes shooting towards the patio where the wine glass had tipped over in the wind and shattered on the floor.

You wished you could have breathed a sigh of relief, relaxed at the true source of noise but you just stood stick still as the wine spilled over the glass table edge outside.

Prosciutto brought his one hand up to turn your head to face him. “Mio tesoro,” his face fell softly in worry at your big doe eyes. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and wrapped your arms around him with a heavy sigh. “It’s stupid.” You whispered against his chest.

Prosciutto moved away a bit, looked deep into your eyes and brushed away a stray hair from your face. “Amore, my love.” He cupped your face in his hands gently. “Just be with me, right now. In this moment. You’re safe. It’s nothing.” He continued to lull you with this. “It was just a wine glass. No one’s going to hurt you.”

After a few moments of silently holding you he walked you to the bathroom, drawing you a bath and promising he’d be back- kissing your forehead before he left.

Later you crawled into bed beside him, finding calm in his embrace once more but you couldn’t exactly sleep. So you snuck out to find something the distract you by- ending up on the first floor among all the antique furniture Prosciutto had inherited and was trying to sell. There was a little light you found plugged into an outlet and switched it on to bathe the room in soft yellow light.

You picked up some of the tarps covering the ugly patterned chairs and carpets until you found a particular floor-length mirror encased in gold details.

It had been recently polished or dusted- not holding the same wear and tear the rest of the items did.

“Y/n.” Prosciutto’s voice called from the top of the stairs and then soon the foot steps down followed.

“Down here!” You called back, still entranced by the mirror.

He came down slowly, looking worried for a moment as he slipped in beside you with a soft sigh.

“Did I scare you?” You asked as you held him. “Not too much.”

He turned his attention to the mirror with you. “I never could quite part with this. It was my mother’s.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder.

“It’s beautiful.”

There was a beat of silence. Then you asked. “You never did tell me what happened to her.”

His eyes went dark a bit, his face falling. “I don’t know. She disappeared a few years before my dad died.”

You brought your hand to his, entwining fingers. “You should put it in your room- in that blank space next to the dresser.”

A smirk played on his lips. “You mean the one looking at our bed.”

You laughed turning to give him a kiss. He brought his lips close to yours, whispering against your lips. “I’ll take it up tomorrow. Now- if you’ve found enough distractions... let’s go have a smoke and go to bed.”

You nodded, leaning over and switching off the light in the corner and followed him to bed.

He kept to his promise- when you woke up you found the mirror looking back at you as he handed you a cup of coffee.

“Isn’t there some superstition about mirrors facing beds?”

Prosciutto sighed as he took hold of your coffee again and then slowly prowled over your body, making you lay your head down at the foot at the bed.

“Honestly, cara mia...” he ran his lips over your jaw, making your head tilt back over the edge to watch him hover over you in the mirror. “I think I’ll risk it.”

#jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo part 5 #la squadra #jojo golden wind #lasquadraweek2020

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cecilspeaks · 4 years

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164 - The Faceless Old Woman (Live)

[applause]

Jeffrey Cranor: I’m really excited, we wrote this script recently coming up in this last performance for tonight. And I got real excited for writing it, cause we haven’t written like a, to do a live show full length in a new voice. And it was a lot of fun to do.

Joseph Fink: Yeah so tonight we are presenting the first Welcome to Night Vale show that is entirely from the point of view of someone who is not Cecil, this is the time when the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home gets to step out from her secret.. place in your home. [laughter] And tell you a little bit about herself.

Jeffrey: One of my favorite things about writing the Faceless Old Woman stuff is cause the way Joseph and I work is that we’ll write episodes or write parts of episodes and pass it to the other and that person will, sometimes have questions but oftentimes just maybe like add something to it. So a lot of times it’s either, when I get stuff back from Joseph and I dunno if he feels the same way getting stuff back form me, with the Faceless Old Woman script it was always either something really hilarious for something really upsetting. [laughter] And I really love that a lot.

Joseph: This is maybe the most upsetting thing we’ve ever written, I hope you guys enjoy it. [laughter]

Jeffrey: Have fun, good night! [applause]

Joseph: I guess we should start that show we talked about.

Jeffrey: Let’s do it. You guys, let’s welcome to the stage your friend and ours, Mara Wilson!

[applause] [long silence]

Mara Wilson: I am the Faceless Old Woman who secretly lives in your home. Hello. You don’t know me, but I know you. I know you very well. I’ve been going through your medicine cabinet. You take too much Advil. Do you realize how hard that is on your digestion? I know a couple gelcaps and a glass of water before bed can alleviate a morning hangover, but it also puts you in a bad mood, because you don’t get good sleep with all that extra stress you put on your guts. You know what’s a better hangover cure? Not drinking like it’s the last day of community college. I replaced your vodka with clear Windex, and your Advil with Ipecac. This won’t help your hangovers, but it certainly will be more entertaining for me. I don’t sleep, so I need better late night entertainment than Netflix. I’ve already watched every episode of “Money Heist” and “Criminal Man” and “Planet documentary”, I have to spice it up a little bit.

Which reminds me, sorry about the tarantula incident last week. And here I’m speaking specifically to you, Tony. Yes you, in the shirt. The one hoping I’m not talking about you. I’m not sorry you woke up with a tarantula covering your face, nor that it bit you, causing your eyelids to swell up like Kinder eggs filled with purulent discharge instead of toys. I am sorry that I forgot to turn the flash off of my camera, which alarmed both you and the spider, and I never got a good photo. I’ve been building up my portfolio for an art exhibit I call “Gross Things on a Sleeping Tony”. It’s going up June 1, exclusively in your living room. I’ve already gotten “Open-mouthed Centipede Bouquet” framed. You’re gonna find this show absolutely terrific. Wait no, not terrific, what’s the word? Terrifying.

Tony, you’re one of my favorites in Night Vale. I know you hate your direct marketing job selling high interest credit cards to twenty-somethings, but the benefits are great. You have health care, a 401k, and you get to take advantage of people less fortunate than you. Everything is its own reward. But I’ve read your poetry, you love poetry. To be fair, there isn’t a big job market for poets, but you need to explore what makes you happy. I tattooed one of my favorite lines of poetry on you last month. It’s by Mary Oliver. “Instructions for living a life. Close your eyes. Be scared. Good luck.” And then I drew a little butterfly next to the words. I’m not the best artists, though, so it kind of looks like a radish or a sarcoma. Doesn’t matter, you still haven’t noticed. It’s just right below your right shoulder blade, don’t try to find it now, it’s still healing and given that I used the metal rod from that fondue set in your closet as the needle, it’s possible it’s infected. Better to leave it alone.

Tony, look at me. Imagine where my eyes would be. You have a lot to work through. I’m here to help you, I really am. I’ll prove it by giving you some advice. If a venomous arthropod is on your face, don’t scream.

Anyway, it’s not you Tony who’s bothering me, it’s the new people. They are elderly, like me, and they just moved into a house in the center of Night Vale. Or maybe this is decades from now, time is a little hazy for me. I’ve never been in this house nor noticed it before they moved in. it’s a one bedroom and there are three of them. I thought polyamory, but they have three separate beds and they never speak to each other, rarely look at each other, and never leave the home. The first night I secretly lived in their home, I realized they never slept either. They brushed their teeth, put on pajamas and get into bed. But they all lie there, eyes open, through silent hours of darkness.

I tried whispering to them but got no response. Usually when I reveal myself in the dark, I get the thrill of witnessing horror dawn across a person’s distorted mouth and bulging eyes as they see my faceless face pressed up against their own. One of the best parts of visiting new residents. But not these three. For once, I’m the frightened one.

Speaking of frightening, did you get your taxes (-) [0:08:20] on time Alex? You, you’re Alex. You with the shoes. I had to file for an extension. I don’t owe any money because I have no income, but I’m over 200 years old, never got a social security number, have no permanent address and I wasn’t born in this country, it’s a lot of paperwork. And Alex, you know your Wi-Fi is terrible and I was having a hard time downloading the forms I needed, so I just wrote my name on some yellowish-black Boston lettuce you’ve left in the crisper for the last three weeks. But the leaves kept falling apart, I think more like melting. After about 20 minutes, I got frustrated and just made myself a salad. Also, I used the last of your parmesan cheese, but don’t worry, I replaced it with dried skin I’ve been collecting from your bed sheets. Don’t be grossed out, Alex. Same texture and nutritional value, you won’t know the difference. I got the idea from a Food Network’s “Beat Bobby Flay”, where this one winner tied up Bobby and ran a (micro-) [0:09:17] across his forehead to make a chimichurri sauce.

I love that show, but I’m a bigger fan of HGTV’s “House Hunters”, the desert dystopian version. That’s where I met you, Addie. Yes you, with the face. You were shopping for a new home here in Night Vale. You told the realtor - who was inside of a living deer, its belly horrifically distended and quivering with every one of the agent’s words and gesticulation – that you wanted three bedrooms, a back yard, and something close to an outdoor community space. The first home, the yard was not in good shape, lots of (- remains) [0:09:55] and the lawn was glowing, perhaps from underground radiation testing. It was well under your budget, but you would have had to spend your savings on fixing it up. Also, in the bathroom mirror you saw, crawling across the ceiling, a faceless old woman devouring what looked like a rat. You didn’t need to worry about a rat infestation, Addie. It was a chipmunk. The second home was a condo right in the heart of the arts district. You loved the design: a simple large black cube, no doors, no windows, no interior. A true closed floor plan, so popular these days. But you weren’t sure there was enough room for entertaining, or anything else at all. The house you selected was perfect. Three bedrooms, a Jacuzzi en suite, and a large patio backyard. Plus it was right in the middle of town next to a community dog park. Although you would be disappointed later to learn that your dog had been arrested for domestic espionage after peeing inside the park’s forbidden walls. I think you made the right choice, Addie, but I can’t help wondering every time I watch “House Hunters”, who is this person running away from? You left Queens to move to Night Vale. Queens is where your family lives, where your best friend lives, and your girlfriend of two years. Are you afraid of stasis, Addie? Of being loved, of commitment? You might be afraid of that pinkish ooze coming out of your ear, might wanna see an ENT about that. Or if not an ENT, an entomologist.

Speaking of putting woodboring beetles inside orifices, I tried a similar thing with the elderly room mates who recently moved to town, or will move to town many years from now, again time is strange to me. But these room mates are also so strange. When I went to put a beetle into one of their ears, I noticed a lot of scar tissue there, making the hole too small. In my haste, the beetle scurried away and I got kind of desperate and just made a bunch of spooky moans and hisses like this: [moans, hisses] but not one of the three responded to me. They continued their meaningless pantomime of sleeping, and in the morning they got up and each went quietly about their days. One of them made coffee, but did not drink it. They then went to the window and waved at their neighbor, Susan Willman, who was on her porch stretching before her morning run. Susan looked at the figure in the window next to her and froze. She stared in terror, then darted back into her home and locked the door. Susan has always been unfriendly. I ran her bed sheets through her office shredder as a reminder to be more open and loving toward the world.

The other two room mates climbed into the shower at the same time. I’m not one to get off on others’ sexual activities, I just thought I might see something new, something human here. But no, they stood side by side, cleaning their cold gravity-defeated bodies, not once looking at each other let alone speaking. A squelch and a squish and grey water falling around yellow toenails. They toweled off, but when they hung the towels up, those towels were completely dry.

I’m used to being the one who does inexplicable and disturbing things. Last year during the community players’ production of “Romeo and Juliet”, I decided it would be more fun if they used actual poison. But it was a last minute idea, so the only poison I could find was Borax. Which just gave the two kids playing the leads several unhappy hours in the bathroom on the night after the show ended, so I don’t know. I could have made a stronger directorial choice. But so could the actual director, I get that Shakespeare plays are long, but he cut out all the best parts like the train robbery, and also Tybalt winning his bowling league. Although I did appreciate that they left in Juliet’s famous line: “Good night, good night, your blood and guts and marrow, which worms shall eat inside your grave so narrow.” It’s a classic story. Kids these days just don’t try to fake their own deaths anymore.

Oh. And Morgan. Yes Morgan, I’m talking to you, you with the fingernail sand the teeth. I need to explain something to you. You tip 20 per cent. You can afford it, stop using it as a measure of how much you approve of the restaurant service. A 20 per cent tip is not bonus, it’s a fee. Restaurant owners don’t pay their staffs, instead they make the diners pay their employees through this idiotic notion of capitalist meritocracy. I don’t care how bad the service, tip them. You have money, Morgan. I would also tell you to stop asking to speak to a manager every time your Long Island Ice Tea is a bit like, but I got out your tongue last month, so they wouldn’t understand you anymore anyway. Do you know what a cut human tongue tastes like, Morgan? Yes you do. You just don’t know that you do. Remember Applebee’s last week? You ordered soup. It was a beef base with little onions and little perfectly sautéed flecks of your own tongue that you had used to lash out at a manager the last time you ate there. You could blame them for poorly expediting your orders, but really the onus is on you for going to Applebee’s. Which serves neither of the items its name promises. It’s false advertising. It’s like an egg cream soda, or Taco Bell.

Speaking of eating, the elderly room mates made lunch together, but not for each other. They were all in the kitchen at the same time making separate meals in silence. They sat around the dining room table together and ate. They carved and stabbed and pushed foods quickly into their mouths, but their eyes were empty. One of them began to spit out their food. No one seemed to care or notice. They all began to vomit, but not with muscular heaves of shoulders and necks, the vomit spurted out like water from a hand pump, their torsos and heads perfectly still. After each bodily rejection of food, they would start shoveling it back to their mouths, repeating the same process. Eventually one of them stood up and threw their plate into the kitchen window, glass bursting everywhere. That person leaned into the hole and began punching the jagged shards out with their clenched fists as blood poured out of their forearms and wrists. They screamed mournfully into the suburban street. Neighbors and passers-by passed only briefly, as if they had barely heard the sad howls spreading across the valley. Susan’s lemon tree next door died instantly and all the lemons fell with wet plops to the ground. The fruit pealed open and inside of each was a fleshy crimson pulp, like meat that has been ground for too long. The other two room mates kept eating and vomiting, not even noticing the shattered glass being subsumed by the growing pool of blood on the floor.

You know, I wasn’t always like this, faceless or old. Secretly living anywhere. Once I was born upon warm water. The smell I remember is sharp citrus and the peppery sting of grass. The salt funk of ocean. I was once a child. I grieved once. I smelled blood. Once I was a thief. I lived among thieves, I saw empires rise and fall, centuries cast themselves upon infinity as fruitlessly as waves upon cliffs. Once I was a recluse. I lived amongst bandits and farmers, I spoke a different language then. I’ve spoken many languages.

Once I was under the sea. That was a quiet time. I lived amongst the coral and dead-eyed fish. Once I was a wanderer. I’ve seen the (head) [0:18:14] waters of the Mississippi and I’ve seen the cobbled streets of Paris and I’ve seen the empty arches of Franchia. But I’ve never seen anything like those three room mates. Of all the things I've been – child, thief, recluse, wandered, faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home, I’ll tell you this: I’ve never been more scared.

Fear is in the unknowing and the mystery. Fear is seeing everything about an old woman except her face. Fear is the uncertainty of her secretly living in your home. Fear is not the spider you see on the wall. It’s the spider you no longer see on the wall when you look back again.

In the unnerving din of shattered glass and mournful howls of that house, I found the loose thread that unraveled this mystery. The room mate who screamed had no tongue. And one of the others had an ear swollen shut from a previous surgery. And the other had a red mark, like a radish or sarcoma adorned with poetry drawn upon their shoulder blade. I realized I knew these three strange room mates. They are you, Tony, the special tattoo I gave you. And they are you, Addie, with your oral scar tissue from the beetle I jammed in there. And you, Morgan, with your tongue removed and digested. The three of you do not exactly live together in that home, not at the same time. You are living three different lifetimes in that same space. You do not speak or respond, because you are dead. Each of you alone in that house together, or you will be, time is confusing for me. Decades from now after you die, your souls will be trapped in the house, because something in this world is unresolved for you. You know this, paranormal neuroscience is required for all high school freshmen. But what they don’t teach you is how to resolve it. I know how and when each one of you die. I wrote it down on the back pages of your journals. Iv’e done this for everybody, but nobody ever reads it, because while people always think they’ll write every day, after a few pages they fall off the wagon and never see the lsat pages of their journals. Except Jonathan Franzen. He didn’t seem bothered by what he read. But he did cross out all my adverbs and added some Oxford commas. In case you’re wondering how Jonathan Franzen dies, here’s the answer: he doesn’t.

I am the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home. You might find this ambiguous, after all the word “home” is singular. So whose home is it that I secretly live in? Listen, some things in this tangled world are simple. I live in your home, and your home, and your home, I live in all of your homes simultaneously. I am many. [echo] I am many. I am one. [echo] I am one. You all live such different lives, teeming, that’s what you are: teeming. And I am there watching you.

You, Tony, you dream of being a poet. Resolve the unresolved. The worst that can happen is crushing disappointment and public mockery, and eviction when you can’t pay your rent. Many more awful things after that, get to it!

And you, Addie, you fled your previous city to escape a murder charge. Strangely, you didn’t commit the murder you were charged with, but you have committed murder. Weird choice to go on “House Hunters” as a wanted fugitive, but maybe it was a good first step to healing your soul.

And you, Morgan. You have an idea that could save us all, an epic defining idea, one of the greats, but you don’t know which one. You have so many ideas. I can tell you this: most of them are not important. One of them is vitally important. Good luck. Also, tip 20 per cent.

And you, I forgot your name, you tweet too much. We all tweet too much, but that doesn’t let you off the hook. That’s why I ate your phone. You can thank me later. You can all thank me later. Because you all will be seeing me soon. I think that tonight is the night to let slip my secret. You’ll soon see me fumbling wet and gray from out of the bathroom mirror, or folded up strangely loose skin and mashed bones in the bottom drawer of your dresser. Or you will see me scuttle on your walls, the hair hanging down from my faceless face. Or you will look out your kitchen window and there will be someone standing in your driveway, and it will be me, and there will be no one in the driveway and instead, I will be next to you in the kitchen. Faceless and so very very old. Won’t that be nice?

I’m the Faceless Old Woman who secretly lives in your home. And your home. And your home. And every home. And I will be seeing you very, very soon.

[music, applause]

Today’s proverb: Never judge a book by its cover. Judge it by the title page instead.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv transcripts #episode 164 #the faceless old woman #the faceless old woman live #finally #thanks for your patience #there might be more mistakes bc there were many big words

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kthsizzle · 3 years

Text

snow flower | kth

summary // Taehyung never cooks, never cleans, and never wakes up first. But somehow you find him serving you breakfast in bed while the place looks spotless on Christmas morning.

pairing // kim taehyung x f reader

word count // 1.5k

warnings // none, just so much fluff it makes me sick :(

A/N // i knew i had to do it immediately. everybody please support our winter bear and listen to snow flower :( he deserves so much love and recognition, more than what he has now. i am so proud of him my heart hurts!!!! anyways enjoy,.. hAPPY HOLIDAYS !!!

Taehyung never cooks, never cleans, and never wakes up first. But somehow you find him serving you breakfast in bed while the place looks spotless on Christmas morning. Besides the soft kiss that he planted on your temple, the smell of burnt pancakes and the strong aroma of the black coffee helped to wake up your senses.

Before you could ask anything, he stopped your words by stuffing pancakes in your mouth.

“I need to ask you something,” you asked mid-chew. You raised your eyebrow in surprise,

“Do I taste strawberries?” he let out a soft chuckle whilst wiping maple syrup from the corner of your mouth,

“yea, strawberry pancakes”.

You continued to chew so you can finally speak properly. As you swallowed, you asked him, “what’s going on?” you asked genuinely.

Before he answered, he removed the breakfast tray from your lap so he could wrap both of your hands around his. He looked at you with sincerity, it's as if you could already read his answer through his eyes.

“You make me wanna be a better man,” he said softly.

“What do you mean?” you asked confused.

Taehyung sighed before he continued, “Listen…”

⊱ ────── {⋆⌘⋆} ────── ⊰

Taehyung was on the brink of bankruptcy. His business was a shitshow, he barely had friends because they were too busy being successful, he didn’t have his family because he left home at a young age to pursue his dream, and unfortunately nothing was working out.

Ever since he moved to the city, it always felt like winter to him. He realized that, the lonelier you are, the colder it gets. When things don’t go his way, it was like being stuck in a pile of snow and he couldn’t get out - but then he met you.

Desperately looking for a photographer, you just so happened to stumble upon his dusty rented studio. He thought you looked brilliant that day when you walked through the doors. Sharp, determined, and he just felt this burning passion within you. You reminded him of himself when he first moved to Seoul.

Just like him, you were starting your own business too. You were a freelance makeup artist, and you needed a photographer to help curate your business portfolio. But it seemed like every photographer in Seoul was fully booked and in demand, except for a certain hopeless boy.

You didnt even need to see his other works for you to hire him, you just booked him and that was it, you were taking every chance you got just so you could build your own name.

He was surprised by your actions, the way you trusted his services with no hesitation, it really puzzled him.

He barely knew you, and you him. But somehow everything just clicked. Your ideas matched his, and you liked the way he would direct the whole photoshoot, leaving everything in his hands. He was just so natural with his job and you were enticed with his energy and the way he was so attentive to every detail, making sure everything was perfect.

But Taheyung thought otherwise. To him, he was merely someone who was at the bottom of the food chain, a nameless nobody who had one last shot so he could prove himself. The way you were so dedicated to your job, running back and forth, and the way you were standing for 4 hours straight to make the models look pretty pushed him to not fuck things up. Because in front of him, was a girl who took a chance on a hopeless man. You were his bright flower during the winter, and you were the prettiest in the room.

That portfolio landed you big clients, VIPs, hotshots, A-listers, and so did Taehyung. And because of that, you both agreed to work together from then on to serve the same clients as a tandem but under separate businesses, like a package deal.

Years after working together, even when the both of you were high up the pedestal, you realized some things. One, although Taehyung had a really good eye when working with a camera, he couldn’t spot a mess even if he tried. You constantly remind him to clean up after a job, or to organize things properly but he never learns. Not even when you started living together when you both had enough money to pay rent, and enough courage to finally admit that you were both whipped.

Two, you soon realize that Taehyung cannot cook for his life, as a matter of fact, it might even end it during the process. So ever since moving together, you were in charge of the cooking while he did the cleaning, to which, you also had to supervise because his definition of ‘clean’ was not the same as yours.

Three, his body was in a whole different time zone. His day would start at 2 in the afternoon at the least. You didn’t understand how he manages such a lifestyle, but then after some time you learn that he’s much more productive at night than in the day. He wasn’t good at basic life skills, but he was pretty damn excellent at his job, and he made sure of that. Because he owes everything to you, for believing in him, you were his snow flower, and he doesn’t want to (and can’t) let you down. Never.

⊱ ────── {⋆⌘⋆} ────── ⊰

“You don’t see it because you usually head out first in the morning,” he paused. Lightly chuckling to himself before he continued, “but I make my bed now when I wake up.”

You wanted to say something, but he insisted on letting him finish.

“I didn’t like plants before, but now I find myself watering the office plants while on the phone and I don’t even realize it,”

“I call waiters and waitresses by their names now, a habit of yours that I picked up. And because you said it makes them feel appreciated. And, you’re right, the service does get one hundred times better,” you chuckled. You did teach him that, you explained it was basic human etiquette.

“One time, on one of our dates in the park, I bought us corn dogs, do you remember?” You tried to think of that particular date, but before your memories could cater to you, he began to speak again.

“That night we were sitting at the park bench, and then we saw a stray dog five feet away. You were just about to take a bit from your corn dog, but you called the stray and fed him everything instead. You said that he needed more than you did. You said you could only imagine being hungry and not being able to tell anyone about it. From then on I always make sure to give some food to the strays when I see them on the way home” he said so fast without stopping to breathe.

It overwhelmed you, you admit. You never thought that Taehyung was so attentive to you the whole time and the things you did that you don’t even remember.

“My point is,” he continued again, interrupting you from processing your thoughts. “You’re so good to me, y/n. In all ways.”

“I took the time to wake up early for Christmas, to try and make breakfast for you like you do for me every single day. Obviously, there was an attempt,” he chuckled. You looked at the burnt pancakes across from you, smiling at his efforts to try and do something for you.

“I was in a dark, cold place, y/n. It was so hard back then. To me everything was dull,” he paused before taking your hands once more in his.

“But you came into my life. A flower that bloomed into my life, you gave me spring in the winter.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, Taehyung had other ways of showing his appreciation and that included random gifts, but they never come in words. Which to you, is more priceless than any gift you have ever received.

“I love you, Kim Taehyung” was all you managed to say, but somehow, to Taehyung that was everything.

He kissed you like he hadn’t for a long time. Making sure you feel every bit of his love that he has on your lips. Slowly, surely, and passionately. He cupped your face while he stroked the curve of your cheeks. As if letting you know that he is here, he is present, and he will never let you go.

You both stopped to catch you breaths. He looked at you the way that did earlier. Tucking a strand of your behind your ear.

“And I love you, my snow flower”

#snow flower #fluff #kim taehyung #i am so in love with kim taehyung #stream snow flower #christmasau #kthsizzle #bts

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maraudererasmut · 5 years

Text

Black and White (Part III)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

A week had passed since the opening of Black and White, and in that time, Remus had hastily completed four paintings, photographed everything he had and assembled his portfolio book. He had the opportunity to show his work to one of the most influential people in the London art scene, and he'd be damned if he let anything get in his way.

After a frustratingly long shift at the cafe, Remus trudged back to his tiny flat. He immediately hopped into the shower, letting the cool water run over his body, trying desperately to pretend it was warmer than it was.

Remus hurriedly got dressed, making sure to wear the nicest article of clothing he owned: his one and only suit. Before leaving the house, Remus caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and paused.

He looked dapper. Well, dapper for a poor artist living from paycheck to paycheck, scrambling to put food on his table. His face was clean shaven, his curls gelled back neatly. His suit was ill-fitting, but it wasn't too noticeable. At least his shirt fit him nicely, and it matched his tie, which was good enough for him. Remus flashed the mirror a smile. It didn't look real; it looked like the type of smile Remus used to wear during the holidays when he visited his extended family. Taking a deep breath, the artist steadied himself and tried again, smiling into the mirror. It was believable enough.

As Remus walked down the street, he couldn't help but let his mind wander. He was nervous. No, terrified. He had no idea what Sirius Black would think of his art, and he had no one to ask for help. None of his friends were artists. According to them, Remus' work was all "really nice, Remus! I love it!" Unfortunately, no one ever seemed to love it enough to want to purchase it.

Remus had been ridiculed in the past. He had heard gallery owners tell him his work was too high-brow, too low-brow, too literal, too abstract. They've said they hated his use of colour, they hated the absence of colour, his work was too derivative, his work was too unique. It wasn't palatable for a modern audience, it was too confusing for the mainstream, it was too mainstream for the artists. Remus had heard everything about his art, how he would never make it in the art world and he would never sell a painting. It had been disheartening, but Remus continued painting anyway. He had no other choice. His life would never be complete if he didn't paint.

Before he even realized it, Remus was standing outside of Black and White, his fingers gripped tightly around the portfolio case that he was holding. This was it. This was his chance. Remus lifted his hand to knock on the door and hesitated for a moment.

He couldn't do it.

Then the door opened.

"Remus!"

James' grin was the same one Remus remembered from the gallery opening, broad and bright and filled with abundant enthusiasm. It was infectious, and Remus couldn't help but smile in return.

"Hello, James."

"Come in, come in!" James opened the door, gesturing for Remus to enter. As Remus passed him, the man began babbling about anything and everything. "Sirius said you might be stopping by today, so I figured I'd hop over! I'm excited to see what kind of work you have! I tried looking for a website for you online or something, but you don't really have a presence, do you? That's something you need to change, Remus! All artists need an online presence, that's the only way that people can find their work! We'll talk about it over dinner some time, I can definitely help you out with that. And Lily—"

"James…" The voice that cut him of was cold and low, reverberating in the spacious gallery. Remus almost didn't recognize the voice; the last time he had heard it, the man had seemed so happy. "James, stop boring our guest with your inane chatter."

Remus bit the corner of his lip, slightly uncomfortable at being present while James was scolded by his friend. James, on the other hand, seemed completely unphased.

"Good luck," James offered cheerfully, clapping Remus on the shoulder. "I'll be here after your interview!"

Remus swallowed hard, his grip tightening on his portfolio case. He took a deep breath and headed to the back of the gallery where the voice had originated from.

Sirius appeared in the threshold, looking as handsome now as he did a week ago. His hair was left loose around his shoulders, a shimmering black wave splayed across his back. He was wearing a stark white shirt, the top buttons or which were undone, exposing creamy skin and deep grey tattoos, faded slightly from the wear of time. His hands were tucked into his slacks, which were clearly tailored, falling just above shiny black shoes, two little mirrors reflecting a twisted version of the man who wore them.

Sirius offered Remus a grin, which Remus tried— and failed— to return. Remus was fairly certain that whatever expression he did manage to make was some combination of deep-seated horror and completely awe-struck, with just a dash of panic. Sirius either didn't notice or chose to politely ignore Remus' face, opting instead to beacon him into the back office.

"Please, have a seat," Sirius said once Remus was in the room. The tone of Sirius' voice was still chilly compared to the warmth of the other day, making Remus feel more nervous than even he had anticipated. "What have you brought to show me?"

"Well," Remus began, scrambling to unzip his portfolio case. He pulled out his book and handed it to Sirius, stammering slightly as he explained himself. "I— I've taken some photographs of my work. I didn't really bring— I mean, I have one or two— but mostly I didn't bring any originals. But the photographs are good," Remus insisted as he saw Sirius raise his eyebrow.

Carefully, as if handling a venomous creature, Sirius opened Remus' portfolio book to the first page. Remus tried to read the man's expression, analyse his face, figure out what he thought of the art. Sirius was stone, completely still, his face unreadable. Remus felt a lump rise in his throat as Sirius turned the page without a word. Then another page. Then he skipped to a section in the middle.

Remus opened his mouth to protest, knowing that the gallerist had passed over one of his stronger pieces, but Sirius simply raised a finger, effectively silencing Remus.

Sirius flipped through again, staring at a few more pieces before snapping the book shut with a sharp sound that startled Remus.

"What else have you brought?"

"I— " That was all Remus had. Just the one portfolio book. He thought that was all he needed. The only other things were a few doodles in his sketchbook, a few originals that were represented in his portfolio and an incomplete painting that he had been working on and accidentally packed.

"Very well then," Sirius began, causing Remus to panic.

"No! I— I have some paintings!" Remus reached into his portfolio case and pulled one out, but he noticed the slight shake of Sirius' head, the purse of his lips. Remus pulled another out, hoping this would be what Sirius wanted to see. "I have these…"

Remus watched as Sirius' eyes shifted, lighting up ever so slightly.

"What else is in there?" He asked, nodding to the case.

"Oh, uh…" Remus peered inside his portfolio case, feeling uncertain. "No— Nothing… well, not nothing, but i— it's not done."

"Show me," Sirius said sharply. It wasn't a question.

"Oh, um…" Remus reached into the bag and pulled out his unfinished piece. It was something that had been on his mind for a while, something he kept going to and stopping, unable to figure out how to continue, how he should finish it. The painting had troubled Remus for so long, he had honestly forgotten that it was even in his portfolio case.

At once, Sirius' expression changed. It softened as his eyes danced across the canvas, darting back and forth, bright and shining in the gallery light. As they widened, Remus could see the sky blue in those eyes, the warmth of the grey. They were beautiful. Remus wanted to paint them.

"I want this," Sirius said under his breath, more to himself than to Remus. He looked up, as if he only just remembered that Remus was there. "This one. I like this. Do you have more if it?"

"Uh…" Remus wanted to tell Sirius that the work was unfinished. He wanted to say that it was the only one like it and that he didn't think he could ever create more. He wanted to demand why Sirius loved this one so much but hated all of his completed works. Instead, he reached into his satchel and pulled out his sketchbook. "I have these…"

Sirius held the book in his hands, almost reverently, and opened it. As he flipped through the pages, he scanned the artwork, taking it in, absorbing it. Unlike with Remus' portfolio, Sirius' mouth twisted slightly, moving as it shaped words under his breath. Page after page, Sirius kept going, taking in what he saw in the book. Liking it. Remus felt himself relax, felt the tightness behind his eyes, forcing back tears of relief.

The book closed and Sirius' eyes raised to meet Remus'.

"If you can give me more of this…" Sirius emphasized his point by placing his palm firmly on the textured black sketchbook cover. "And this," he said, nodding to the unfinished painting, "I have a spot for you in this gallery."

Untitled No. 1

(R. J. Lupin)

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stuck-in-hawkins · 4 years

Text

Their First Fight

Jonathan got his things as quickly as he could. Having photography class as his last subject of the day was both a blessing and a curse. He was always the last to clean up, wanting to use up every second he could. Jonathan had been elated at the prospect of staying late on days where the lab was open after school. He had hoped to build up his portfolio to apply for colleges and some local papers.

But, how could he now? He couldn’t tell Will and El to walk home. Not with those thugs from the locker room on the prowl. There was a hope that maybe they would find a club or a group to belong to, the way the party had been for them back at Hawkins. But in the meantime, he was responsible for their safety and couldn’t risk staying late. He threw his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the parking lot.

When he got there, he saw Will and El leaned over and listening to the Walkman.

“Hey guys. You have the keys, you could just listen to the radio and save the batteries.” He tried to sound lighthearted but he could tell by the look in Will’s face: the day had not gone well.

“Is everything okay?” Jonathan regretted asking the moment the words left his lips. It obviously wasn’t. And that question only ever got the blanket statement:

“Yeah. Fine.” It came from Will.

You can read on ao3 here or below.

El flicked her eyes over.

Jonathan realized how red and puffy they were. “That bad, huh?”

Will crossed his arms and turned towards the window. Will knew it probably looked childish but he didn’t care. Everything was still too close. He felt like if he talked about it, he would explode and either end up yelling or crying. He had been fine for a moment, comforting El had been comforting to him. She looked to him for answers. She was the only one who did that. Everyone else would try to solve things for him and that just made him feel pitiful.

Jonathan looked to El. “How about you, El? Give me the highlights.”

“Highlights?”

“The best part of the day.”

El blinked for a second. In truth, it had been being comforted by Will. Some wall had been brought down. She was really beginning to feel like a sister to him. She felt hopeful and less alone. He was going to help her get her powers back. Or, at least, they were going to try. But she didn’t want to share it, not when Will was so tight lipped. She didn’t want to ruin what they had now.

“Leaving school.”

Jonathan’s shoulders sagged and looked at them both. He realized there was a line, a distance, that he couldn’t close. He turned and started the car.

Will saw El look over at him, pleadingly. She saw the hurt. She always did.

“Lunch was the highlight.” He mumbled. “My art teacher wants to help me make a portfolio for college.”

Jonathan looked back, “Are you serious? That’s amazing! My photography teacher offered to help with mine, too. He said that they look for variety but it’s good if you have a niche. But you already seem to have one with those characters.”

Will looked at his hands. “Those aren’t going in my portfolio. They’re just doodles.”

Jonathan looked back in the mirror. He could see the light inside his brother dimming. Moving out here had stolen something from him. The security he had among his friends, even through their troubles. Jonathan used to be able to pull Will out of those dark places, the dark thoughts. He used to be able to reach him. But now he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried.

The car was quiet. Jonathan filled the silence with the radio, and wondered when Will had shut him out.

_____________________________

Once they got home, El and Will went to his room to do homework. Jonthan preheated the oven and got the chicken out of the fridge. He had prepped it in a baking pan the night before, so all he had to do was throw it in. Joyce was trying to teach him some basic meals before he went to college.

Saying, “I don’t want you having eggs and canned soup for every meal.”

Jonathan started tidying up around the kitchen when he realized that they were out of dish cloths.

He called down the hallway, “Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?”

Jonathan made his way over to Will’s room, “Can you throw some of the dish cloths in with your laundry?”

Will threw down his pencil. Among the things he hated about the apartment was its lack of a washing machine. They had to go downstairs to the communal laundry machines. He rubbed his eyes for a moment and sighed, trying to push away the annoyed feeling. Bright side. He told himself. He grabbed his sketchbook, library book, and Walkman. He would at least be out of the apartment. He could just sit and draw for a bit. Maybe work on something for his portfolio. Or maybe just draw out some more creatures. He had gotten a book from the library on special effects from different monster movies and he had been copying some of the concept art.

He threw them in his backpack and started grabbing piles of laundry.

The evening fell into a familiar pattern. Jonathan got the remainder of dinner ready and checked El’s homework. When Joyce got home, she was tired and felt gross from a day of cleaning houses. She poured out her gratitude for Jonathan, though feeling like it was never enough. Then she excused herself to get washed up before dinner. Will came in lugging the clean laundry and setting it in his room to be folded later.

Dinner involved a dance that El had caught onto by now. It was a lot of smiles, even if they were forced. All of them pretended to be happy to spare the other, even though she could tell they were all sad in their own ways. The conversations were lighter, only the best things from the day, the “highlights.”

“How was your day, El?”

“Good. I like the book from English class.”

Will cut in, jokingly, “You like The Old Man and the Sea?”

She straightened, and her eyebrows furrowed a bit. She was being called on to defend her book, much like the squabbles she had seen the party engage in: which movie was the best, the better comic book character, the better writer.

“It’s a good book,” she stated.

“All he does is talk to himself.”

“That’s what I like.” She thought a moment, “You hear his thoughts. It’s quiet but…” she searched for the right word, “meaningful.” She settled on.

He shrugged. “It’s easier to read at least. I’m not reading the same line 40 times.”

“Just wait ‘til you get to Charles Dickens,” smirked Joyce.

Will clasped his head in his hands. “Don’t remind me.”

El enjoyed these bantering moments. In the woods, before Hopper found her, El used to daydream about what it would have been like to be part of Mike’s family. If everything they had wished had come true: if Nancy had been her sister and Mike her not-brother. What their dinners would have been like, something she had only glimpsed at but wished for so desperately. Now, she finally had it and,as grateful as she was, she hated what it had cost her.

She wondered how long it would take for the dinner happiness to stop feeling like pretend.

Joyce insisted on cleaning up dinner and El volunteered to help. She tended to be attached at the hip to Joyce when she got home. Will went to tackle the clothes. Jonathan walked over to his room, “You need some help?”

Will shook his head, holding one sock. “You cooked dinner. It’s fine.” Will tried to find the other to match.

Jonathan picked the other up and handed it over. “It’ll go faster with two.”

Will shrugged and the two started folding. Jonathan racked his brain for what to say. It used to be so easy. But these days, there was a divide and he felt like he was walking on eggshells, like he could never say anything right.

“Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?”

Jonathan took a deep breath and hoped that what he said would help, “I know that going back today was rough. You don’t need to tell me why. I just want you to know that, I’m here. Okay? You’re not alone. And I know that school feels like a nightmare right now but you just need to find your pack, and I think you will here. It might be with art class, or something else but you’ll be okay.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” There was sharpness in his words, a knife’s edge in his stance. He snapped the jeans as he folded them and his lips were tight.

They folded in silence. Jonathan didn’t know what he’d said but he decided not to press, despite the urge.

After a moment, Will asked, “Is that what you did? Did you ‘find your pack’?”

“Well, I’m trying-”

“Because it sounds to me like you’re talking out of your ass.”

Jonathan was thrown. Will had never taken this tone or swore at him. It felt surreal.

The floodgates had opened up and Will couldn’t stop himself. “You don’t know that the people in this town won’t be ten times worse than Hawkins!”

Jonathan snapped back, “Oh, I’m sorry, are you comparing them to the flayed? Because I think they stand a pretty good shot in comparison.”

“I’d have taken my chances with them all over again if it meant I could have been with my friends. It took me YEARS to make those friends and I lost them. And what? You think I can just make more?”

“I wasn’t trying to say it was easy-”

“Yes you were! You made it out like I am some socialite. Like I’ll just turn around and make new friends! When you don’t know SHIT about that! You don’t have a friend in the GODDAMN WORLD!”

“I have friends, Will!” Jonathan couldn’t believe he was going on the defensive against his little brother.

“You have family, not friends, and a girlfriend who’s a thousand miles away! You don’t know JACK SHIT about meeting new people!”

That struck a nerve, and a resentment bubbled up that he had always buried. “You ever think that maybe you have something to do with that?! That maybe I missed out on that because I spent all my time babysitting you?”

“I NEVER ASKED YOU TO! I don’t want you to! I just want you to LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“Fine! Wish granted!” Jonathan stormed out and Will slammed the door. Jonathan stood there with ugly feelings on his chest and sour words in his mouth. He couldn’t quite process it. This had never happened. Never.

There were stupid squabbles when they were kids, before Lonnie left. There was teasing and annoyance and some back and forth arguments. But they never yelled. Will had never cursed at him. And Jonathan had never, never voiced the bitterness. This was all new and Jonathan hated every bit of it.

Joyce walked over to him, gently. “What happened?”

“He… Will and I… we had a fight. I… I don’t know… what happened.”

Joyce sighed. “Let’s make some tea.”

Jonathan glimpsed El wringing a towel in the corner of his eye. Joyce turned to El. “Sweetie, I need to talk to Jonathan for a moment.” She kissed El’s head. “I’ll be in, I just need a bit.” El nodded and went to her room.

Joyce put on a kettle and they sat down at the table.

Jonathan clenched his hair in his hands, “Why did I say that? I blamed him… I told him he was the reason I didn’t have friends.”

Joyce gently took his hand away from his head and held it.

“You have a very different relationship with your brother. My brothers? We used to say that stuff all the time to each other. But you never did that with Will. You were always gentle and when your father left, you took on the role of dad to Will in a lot of ways. That wasn’t fair to either of you. Just like it wasn’t fair to move you all so far away.”

“We had to…”

“But Will is mad about it. He’s going to be mad about it for a long time, and we need to let him.”

“...I feel like I don’t even know him anymore… like we left him back in Hawkins.”

Joyce squeezed Jonathan’s hand. “Do you remember when your father left?”

“Yeah.” The mention of his father made him scowl involuntarily.

“Do you remember how bitter you were?”

Jonathan shook his head. “I wasn’t bitter. I was relieved that he was gone.”

“Maybe a part of you was but that wasn’t the only thing you felt. Your grades dropped that year. I had multiple parent teacher conferences. You didn’t want to play baseball anymore. You skipped out on the after school program.”

“Will and I never went to the after school program.”

“Yeah, because you kept walking home with him. You said that you forgot. You refused to go and after two weeks of me paying for a program, that wasn’t being used, I gave up.”

Jonathan seemed bewildered, “I don’t remember any of that.”

“It was a fast few months, or it seems like it was now. It was before we really settled into our groove. There was an adjustment period. And you needed it. But Will never got that. I watched him. After Lonnie left, he made it his job to make us happy. He didn’t let us see how things hurt him. He has always tried to be strong for us. But now, after everything, he’s tired of smiling. He’s angry, he’s bitter, and he’s allowed to be. We need to let him feel this, and work through this. We need to still be there for him even if he’s being miserable and moody. He deserves our patience.”

Jonathan swirled his spoon around and watched the sugar dissolve. “Did I act like this?”

“You didn’t swear like that. But you lashed out at me. You blamed me for him leaving.”

Jonathan’s head bolted up, “What?! No. There’s no way.”

“Yeah, honey. You were grieving.”

Jonathan couldn’t process that. “Mom, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s water under the bridge, sweetie. You apologized the same night. I knew you didn’t mean it.”

“Was I like that with Will?”

Joyce looked toward Will’s door and shook her head. “You were gentler with him. You tried your best to make up for Lonnie being gone. You have always tried to fill that hole for Will. So, it only makes sense that you get some of the teenage rebellion aimed at you.” She said it with a laugh but it was hollow. He could hear the echoes of her own disappointment, like she had failed them somehow.

Jonathan squeezed her hand back. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything. We’ve got good roots, and we’ll make it through.”

She smiled at him.

Jonathan looked back down the hallway. “I should probably go apologize.”

She shook her head. “You need to give him time. Let him come to you when he’s ready. For now, give him space and drink your tea.”

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