#this is a man who notes different shades of black i think he can stand a couple nice smelling shampoos
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The first time Jamie stays over at Roy’s, they haven’t been together long, if you could call whatever it is that they have going on ‘together’ — it’s more like a series, a hotchpotch of bad decisions, Jamie pushing Roy, Roy pushing back, but then accidentally pushing so hard that Jamie falls into the nearest bed and, because he refuses to let Roy one-up him, manages to take Roy with him.
And sometimes they push and shove near a toilet stall. Or an alleyway. Or an empty supply closet. There’d even been that time where they happened to be right next to the door of the boot room, and it was one of the rare moments Will fucking Kitman hadn’t been in there already.
Needless to say, it feels very much like crossing some relationship-threshold when Roy rasps, “Yours or mine?” against the warm skin of Jamie’s throat and Jamie whines out, “Yours.”
It’s not, but it feels more damning than the boot room — definitely more personal, more involved — but still Roy takes him, and when it’s over, Jamie mouthing lazily at his shoulder, sated and sleepy, he doesn’t send him on his way like he knows he should, like he has all those times before.
In the morning, he’s torn from his sleep by a raucous clatter and a sharp gasp. He’s up and rushing to the ensuite before he’s even aware of his wakefulness. But instead of the gory scene he expects, what greets him is a perfectly safe Jamie, clutching a shampoo bottle and some of the shampoo splattered across the floor.
“Fuck’s going on?” Roy snaps, bracing a hand on the doorframe before stretching his leg, soothing the ache that’d started in his knee from his hurry.
Jamie waves the shampoo bottle at him. “You’ve actually got a decent product!”
He thinks he should feel more offended by Jamie’s shock than he does — really, all he feels is something like fond exasperation rising in his chest, up to his throat, threatening to choke him if he lingers on it for too long.
“Yeah,” he finally says slowly, as if speaking to a small child, “I’ve got to take care of my hair, don’t I?” What he doesn’t say is that he learnt that the hard way, but what Jamie doesn’t know won’t hurt him. (But Roy kind of wants to tell him anyway. But he won’t.)
Jamie pauses, looks between him and the bottle a couple times, before nodding. “Good, good,” he sets the shampoo back into the shower, “thought I’d have to teach you.”
Roy stares at him for another second, eyes narrowed, before he pivots and walks away, leaving Jamie to continue his apparent inspection. “Fuck you, Tartt!”
He ignores Jamie’s cheery, “Already done that, haven’t you?” And if his heart squeezes in his chest at the thought of more mornings like this — a fucking lifetime of mornings like this — well, that’s only for him to know.
#maybe this will work its way into a proper fic but idk#cmon now have a little faith in roy#this is a man who notes different shades of black i think he can stand a couple nice smelling shampoos#its just fucked when jamie does it. cuz its jamie. and roy refuses to be normal about him. LOL#royjamie#ted lasso#also im obsessed with will being called Will Kitman#my writing#long post#its literally fine#100
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hello it is me ehuehuehue. if your requests are open, can I ask for a uhhh Priest!Raphael x Tav who's come to pray for repentance? Something really evil and manipulative with double meanings >:3
(Also if it's not too much trouble, maybe some Brother!Haarleep and Sister!Korilla cameos :3)
A/N: I failed the secondary objectives, babe. I failed them. And I don’t know if this is what you want but it had a vibe, ya know? Followed that vibe.
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“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Cliche words. They sound contrite, though Tav struggles to mean them. She thinks she does. The young woman worries her hands together, kneeling before the altar. It’s been years since she last straggled into a church. Just a girl, just as unknowing; the words had even less meaning for her then.
And now, it’s desperation rather than faith. She wonders what the gods think of that.
She wonders if the gods truly call such places homes. Tav doesn’t think they do. The church is cold and empty, and its beauty speaks to fading wealth and prominence. The statues are grim-faced, dour, and forbidding. She does not know them; she doesn’t want to know them.
But Tav prays. She remains prostrate in front of the altar until her knees ache from the cold stone. The silence is oppressive, a near physical weight. No one is listening, it says. No one hears you, little girl.
And from the shadows, an answering thought worming into her skull: ah, but I hear you, pet.
“Forgive me, Father,” she says, starting again. “For I have sinned.”
“So you have said,” a deep, smooth voice interrupts her petition. The richness suggests a natural warmth, like smoke and fire. But there is something else. There is an undertone she cannot place; it is that secret note which makes all the difference. Edged, something colder, crueler. It is poison slipped into a luxurious wine, nightshade mixed with black currant. “And at length, sweet child. But how can he forgive that which he does not understand?”
Tav stiffens, gooseflesh licking across her forearms. “Am I trespassing?”
“The hour is late, yes. But I have only just arrived. I have a sense for lost lambs, you see.” Fabric rustles behind her, a robe dragging across the stone. The nearer he comes, the colder she feels. The stranger moves until he stands in front of her, hands linked at the small of his back.“Tell me your name, lamb.”
Her mouth goes dry. And something else, something worse, twists in her guts. The priest's eyes are beautiful, she thinks, the warmest shade of brown, almost honey. She wants them; coveting is a sin, too. The right corner of his lips (full and lovely) twitch up. The priest is handsome. Tav chews the inside of her cheek until she tastes blood. It grounds her.
He sneers. “God affords second chances, my dear, but man is imperfect; he will not punish me for judging you harshly. Answer me now, or begone from this place.”
“Tav,” she says, committing each of his features to memory.
“Good girl. I am Raphael,” he bows; the gesture is deceptively smooth. The fabric of his dark robes falls around him like water, hiding the bulk of his figure. “Overseer of this fine flock.” He motions to the empty church, chuckling.
“I’ve never seen you before, Father.”
“Is Father what you would call me, sweetling? There are other monikers I would prefer to trip from that lovely tongue.” She shivers, glancing up at him sharply. Raphael looks unrepentant. He leans on the altar, resting his chin in his right palm. With the left, he motions for her to continue. “Your sin, child. Elucidate, entertain, enrapture me.”
“And you offer forgiveness?”
“Forgiveness is outside of my jurisdiction, pet. Let us only say I may provide a...deferment.”
It is more than she currently has, preferable to the madness in her head, the hunger, the nightmares. Tav swallows. “I’ve killed, Father. I killed…” she flinches. “Gods above, I don’t know. I couldn’t control myself.” Her vision is red; her hands are red. The taste in her mouth is red.
Raphael clucks his tongue. “Tell me how.”
Agony in her voice, “Does it matter? I have taken a life, Father, many lives.”
“Mm, and you believe a few pretty words in an empty house will wash your hands clean?” He kneels before her, finger curling beneath her chin. “Lovely as you are, dear, do you believe a few crocodile tears equal to a mortal soul?” She has no answer. Raphael strokes her cheek. Exhausted and broken, Tav leans into the touch. She feels raw. Empty. His skin is warm by comparison, smelling pleasantly of cherries and musk. And brimstone.
Brimstone in the Lord’s house?
He presses his thumb to her lower lip, voice pitching lower. “And what if I told you, my sweet sinner, that the god of this house has fled? That the halls are empty, and there is no one to hear you?” His touch ranges back into her hair, fingers curling at the base of her scalp. Nails dig into her flesh, sharper than she would have imagined. “But I am listening. I hear you.”
She sags into his touch. He’s warm; Raphael coos.
“I would never judge you. You mortals are so delightfully messy. And you, my lamb, are no different. Only a product of your environment.”
She is innocent. No guilt. Not here with Raphael. Tav blinks her eyes open, staring at him. And how could she think his eyes were honey? They are gold. And a second set of gold eyes stares at her from the shadows on her left, waiting. Another priest, perhaps. “You forgive me?”
“As I said, I cannot forgive. But I might protect you.” His voice is silk. He leans in nearer, near enough that his lips track across her cheek. She turns into it. “And I would never ask you to change. To me, you are perfect.”
Pretty words. She’s drunk on them, swaying badly. Raphael's hand clasps her bicep. The pain is far away. “Perfect. Father, what must I do?”
“The eternal question, little lamb. And such a simple answer: swear yourself to me now. And I,” his tongue flicks out, tasting her skin. “Will deliver you. No more tears.” He corrects himself, laughing. “Well. For tonight.”
The church is empty and cold. Raphael is warm and present.
And she is tired, so tired, worn thin, hollow, and he looks at her with such promise.
Tav swears herself to him with blood. Raphael laughs. It is a high sound, wild and inhumane. The smell of brimstone intensifies, and the gravity of what she’s done hits home.
The gods had fled, yes. The devil remained.
#bg3 raphael#raphael bg3#raphael x tav#asks#my writing#priest raphael#ya'll and your priest Raphael#anyway#im pretty sure i failed the assignment
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Bruce is seventeen years old. Bruce knows this-he can feel it in his bones. Bruce also knows that he isn’t supposed to be seventeen. That’s his first clue. The way the number settles in his mind is wrong, distinctly.
His second and more damning clue is Oli standing in his early 40s right in front of him.
The third clue is an older Zatanna starring at him with wide eyes.
God he fucking hates magic.
There are others standing around him, all wearing varing shades of garish colors; blues, reds, and yellows so bright they hurt his eyes. He also notes the item in his hands, the one he pulled off his head as soon as he’d woken up, appears to be the helm to the combat suit he’s been designing. Before he can begin to assess just how bad it is that these people have seen his face, someone speaks up and all of Bruce’s attention snaps to them.
It's the Green Lantern.
“Oh my god, Spooky’s a fetus.”
Okay not the Green Lantern, that one retired when Bruce was a kid, and this one has different features, but a Green Lantern. Bruce has been training his emotions since he was 13, but given the situation he prides himself on not asking the guy for an autograph. Khoa would definitely point out his micro-expressions of joy, he can practically hear him. He shoves his shoulders back up, reminding his body that it doesn’t matter who’s around, Bruce can never relax. A quick lecture on his failure of his previous scan before he does another. A man in blue with an s on his chest, Oliver dressed in green, the Black Canary and how he missed the fact that both the Green Lantern and Black Canary were in the same room as him is a tragedy, another man with green skin which he’ll worry about later, a woman in what looks like a one-piece swimsuit and tall boots, and Zatanna. There also is a window which seem to lead out to space.
Alright, might be his weirdest day ever, but no matter how weird it won’t be his worst. Never the worst.
All his training is for naught, because it takes him until right that second to put all the pieces together. Oliver and Zatanna are older, and there are new fully fledged heroes using their mantels as though they were their own. However, he’s been given this information, which means they aren’t hiding it. It doesn’t matter if he knows it or not. It leaves two options and he doubts that Zatanna would mess with his head like that without giving him the option. Plus, he curls his hand into a fist, his body feels off. Which really just leaves the one thing.
“My mind and body have been reverted to what they were when I was 17.”
“Well,” Zatanna says after a pause had taken over the room, “that makes my job way easier.”
“How did you know you were even in the future? That seems like a stretch.” The man in blue says, almost like he’s joking. Bruce can’t tell if it’s at his expense or not.
“The position of the stars.”
“Wait, really?”
“No dumbass,Oli’s like 40 years older than he’s supposed to be.” The man blinks and what looks like a soft smile appears. He must’ve been joking with Bruce then. Maybe.
“40!”
This is when the woman in the swimsuit interupts, she’s the only one who seems focused on the problem at hand. She doesn’t seem surprised that he was able to recongize Oliver, only noting that he knows there is someone he can trust in the situation. Bruce has no reason to trust Oli, tells her as such and ignores the exaggerated hurt sound he makes.
“We need you to trust that we have your best interest at heart, and that any information we tell you is true and any we don’t tell you is for good reason. From experience, I know it takes many years fighting by your side in battle for that trust to be established.”
She’s right. He can’t afford to mess up any plans his future self has, and that means he has to trust that these people do know him.
He thinks for a moment and decides.
“Black Canary and the Green Lantern. I’ll listen to them.”
The room erupts into chaos.
#maybe I’ll finish this idk idk#batfamily#batman#bruce wayne#batfam#justice league#green lantern#hal jordan#black canary#dinah lance#zatanna
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Day 6: Sown Together
Pairing: Selkie Echo x Mer Reader
Summary: Being one of a special few who can salvage a torn selkie cloak, you’re about to have the worst case you’ve ever seen.
Author’s Note: Fun fact, this was actually one of the first story ideas I had for this AU.
Warnings: Some references to the experimentation and trauma Echo went through. It doesn’t go into detail, but it’s there. I also made the droids familiars in this AU.
Word Count: 1221
Prompt: She had calloused hands, and a set of special needles. She could sew a selkie skin back together with her eyes closed.
Prompt 2118 by deepwaterwritingprompts
It is an ancient art among the Mer; almost as rare and valued as those who could forge and fix their enchanted armor. However, unlike your counterparts, you are scattered across the world instead of at the center of the Mandalorian islands. Your mother had told you this was so any selkie in need was close enough to one of our kind anywhere.
You have calloused hands and a set of special needles inherited from your late mother. You could sow a selkie skin back together with your eyes closed. And today, you could feel in the air you would have a client.
A small sleek black ship appears on the horizon. What it lacks in size, it makes up for in speed and maneuverability as it quickly gets closer to your small private dock. Two of the five men on board hop down and begin tethering the ship. You leave them to their procedures, quietly watching.
Soon all five men are standing on the dock to meet you. You are caught a bit off guard to see how different looking they are from the majority of Mer clones; the fact their enchanted armor wasn’t made of the same gray metal as yours was the only real give away.
“That’s quite the feat.” You say, turning to look at the ship instead of them. “A lot of love and magic has to be put into a ship to give it a soul like that.” It makes a creaking noise in reply, but only Jedi, the Sea Alor himself, those the ship invites, and the one who truly gave the ship life can understand it.
“I am quite proud of all the upgrades.” The one with goggles says matter of factly. You smile as you turn to look back at the crew.
“Don’t get him started.” The sniper grumbles with a soft hiss, but you can hear the brotherly teasing hidden behind it. The largest one starts laughing and their leader rolls his eyes. Finally, you land on the fifth member of the group and you know he’s the selkie.
“We’re clone force 99.” The leader begins, pointing to each one saying their names before getting to the selkie. “And this is Echo.”
Echo’s brown eyes meet yours and he gives you a nervous smile. His skin and his eyes are unnaturally a few shades too light, there are golem and demon familiar ruins spread across his head, and a right arm that, while proportioned to his body, is a golem arm with ruins for opening locked doors and deciphering enchanted documents. What had been done to this man?
“Your selkie skin?” You ask softly almost too scared to see what was brought to you if this was the shape he was in.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He holds it out to you and your jaw drops. It’s at least twenty different pieces maybe more that had once been his cloak. Your eyes well up in tears, but you force them back.
“Who?” You ask, taking the pile into your arms.
“The techno union.” Hunter answers. “He joined us shortly after we rescued him. Can you fix it?” The question of the hour. You can feel the other four lean in closer wanting to know. More than that you feel the selkie staring at you with tentative hope. It makes your stomach churn to think he was preparing himself to be told there was nothing you could do; he would never be able to take his seal form again.
“It will take longer than usual. A week at most, but…” You smile up at Echo. “I can fix it. I can’t promise it will be the same as before. But I can get you back in the water again. I promise.” He lets out a breath of relief as the others begin to congratulate him.
“However…” You stop, seeing them all snap to you. You gulp before continuing.
“What’s the catch?” Crosshair hisses warily.
“The rest of you need to leave Echo here alone with me for the week.” The statement hangs in the air as you look at the entire group.
“From what little is known about the process, it takes a great deal of magic and concentration by both the selkie and the seemstress to fix the cloak under normal circumstances.” Tech stops to look at the many pieces of Echo’s cloak; they all do.
“And this is anything but.” Wrecker comments with a sigh. The group is quiet for a moment.
“It’s your choice, Echo.” Hunter looks at him. The tense moment is interrupted by the ship creaking again and the head of a Gonk Turtle, an energy turtle familiar, sticks its head out at the top of the ramp. You can’t help, but smile and barely hold back laughter as they holler for Gonky to stay on board. It’s then you feel Echo’s eyes on you and you flush in embarrassment.
“I think I’ll stay.” His smile makes your stomach do a somersault.
The week is hellish. The process is long and strenuous; even though the sowing is the easiest part, the trauma and memories for how the cloak was damaged seep into the air around the two of you. Sometimes he needs a moment. Sometimes you need a break. Other times you simply lean on each other.
This process is always intricate and intimate. You had seen the world of man, monsters, and everything in between do horrible things to keep a selkie compliant and captive; however, experimentation had been a whole new world of horror and destruction. Still neither of you gave up and on the day before the rest of the batch was to return, you sowed the last stitch.
“It’s shorter than before.” Echo states neutrally as he puts it on; his fingers slide along the stitches.
“I did warn you it would not be the same.” You remind sadly. “The skin knows there isn’t the same amount of…flesh as there was before.”
He nods and, before you can say anything more, he jumps into the water from the dock. You scream after him, afraid the fins might not be right and cause him to be a sitting duck in the water. Before you can jump in after him, soft barks of joy swiftly fill the air as he surfaces in his seal form. You were right in your worry about the fins with only his left one remaining; however, you’re ecstatic to see him use water manipulation to propel himself through the water. It’s a rarer mer ability so it hadn’t crossed your mind he might have it.
You both laugh as the relief and joy truely washes over you. Echo prepells himself into the air and lands back in human form on the dock. His thank yous are continuous as a few tears escape. You hug him tight and he quickly returns it, hiding his face in your shoulder. You feel tears of your own escape as you listen and feel the soft sobs of joy.
It is calm and quiet as the sun sets on the ocean. You both continue to stand there, triumphant and enjoying the peace one another brought.
“Will you marry me?” The question catches you completely off guard, but your answer comes immediately.
“Yes.”
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Chase the Shadows
Pairing: Gojo x Fem Reader
CW: light smut(-ish. Kind of..) Minors DNI, explicit and suggestive language
Note: Reader and Gojo are in an established relationship. This is part of my JJK Street Racer AU.
“You can’t compete with him, Gojo. Do you have any idea how much shit he has under that hood? Paid it all with daddy’s money and he’ll smoke you with it too.” It’s rare for Sukuna to sound this concerned about his friend. Usually apathetic to all of Gojo’s chaotic antics, but tonight is different. The two men are standing near Gojo’s car and waiting for the official call that the roads have been cleared to start the race. Gojo had pissed off Naoya earlier that week (some ill-timed insult about Naoya’s small dick or something like that) and instead of Naoya’s men shooting Gojo’s brains out, they decided to settle their squabble with a race.
Sukuna continues to chastise him “It also doesn’t help that you’ve only done cosmetic mods to this car.”
“Eh, it’s not about the engine. It’s about who’s driving the engine. And that happens to be Gojo Satoru. No need for performance updates. I’ll smoke his ass in a slow car, and I’ll look fucking cool doing it too.” arrogance is practically dripping from Gojo’s voice.
“This isn’t Fast and Furious, man. A slow car is still a slow car. Your driving skills aren’t suddenly going to make it go faster.”
Gojo lowers his blacked-out shades and peers at his friend through the tops of them, crystal eyes glinting with mirth. “You say that like I haven’t smoked you in a slow ass car before.” Sukuna scoffs at that, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You only won that race because my clutch slipped.”
“Excuses, excuses” Gojo teases, “Besides, who says cosmetic mods can’t make a car go faster? I swear Geto’s art gives me a speed boost.”
“You are so going to lose this race and I almost pity anybody stupid enough to bet on you tonight.” The streets around them are filled with people, more than the usual street race. It definitely can be attributed to the reputations of the two men racing. Gojo has been at the top of almost every race for the past year. His fame amongst the Tokyo street circuit spread quickly, and whenever he races, people always come to gawk. Naoya’s immoral rep, and the Zenin name itself attract a fair share of spectators too. Not to mention the streets tonight are crawling with his men. Scantily clad women crowd the streets and occasionally pass by Gojo and Sukuna; loud music and the revving of cars fill the gaps in their conversation.
“Speaking of betting, where the hell is Toji? I can’t believe he actually agreed to let you race Naoya.” Sukuna looks over his shoulder, eyes sweeping his surroundings to find the older man. When he can’t spot him, Sukuna lets out a few curses. “Don’t fuckin tell me… you didn’t tell Toji about this?!”
Gojo has the nerve to look slightly sheepish “...uhh well I didn’t thi-”
“Shut up, man. You’re racing the heir to one of the biggest Yakuza groups in the fuckin country and you didn’t tell your fucking manager?!” AND You’re driving it in a ride that’s basically a glorified Hot Wheel. How stupid are you?”
Gojo’s lack of response spurns Sukuna on, “Please tell me you didn’t bet any money, or at least any of Toji’s money.”
“No! I am offended you think that I’m that thoughtless. Of course I didn’t bet any of Toji’s money. That would have been asking for a death sentence... money-hungry old man” Gojo mutters the last bit under his breath.
“Fine. Whatever. Since you didn’t bet any of his money, and I know you're flat out of cash right now, what did you bet?”
If Gojo looked sheepish before, now he looks downright guilty. His eyes flicker over to where you’re standing talking to a group of girls and then they shoot away nervously.
Sukuna catches all of this, his gaze narrowing. “You bastard.” Sukuna almost whispers. “You’re betting your girl?”
“Well… she’s the only thing Naoya was interested in. He refused cash and my car so it was the only option.”
“Does she know about this?”
Gojo’s silence is deafening.
“You’re fucking slimy. Absolute bastard, asshole, and a dickhead. Can't believe I’m friends with you.”
“Oh please don’t act like you’re any better, Sukuna.” Gojo lets out a mocking laugh. “You’d do the same thing if you were in my place and we both know it. You’re a glutton for adrenaline too.”
“No, I wouldn’t. If Naoya ever laid eyes on my girl, there wouldn’t even need to be a race. I’d send him driving back in a fucking ambulance.”
“Well, none of this even matters! Because I told you, I’m going to win.” There’s shouting from the race moderators, letting the crowd and drivers know that the race will begin in five minutes.
“I’ll see you on the other side” Gojo winks at Sukuna. “With my girl and Naoya’s McLaren.”
You suddenly run up to Gojo, oblivious to the tension between the two men. “Good luck Satoru!” You sling your arms around his neck.
“No need for it, princess! But I’ll take your kisses anyway” Gojo greedily slots his lips over yours, hand running down your back to the base of your ass. You giggle as Gojo gives it a slight squeeze, and he smiles against your lips. He gives you one last peck and straightens up.
“Please be a little bit careful, Satoru. I know Naoya races dirty.” You warn, hands coming to rest on his forearms.
As Gojo starts to respond, the revving of a car interrupts him and loud cheers fill the air. Naoya parks his car at the starting line and gets out. The street lights illuminate his bare back and the unnerving tattoo that snakes around his torso. He lifts up his arms, stirring up shouts from the crowd again. You shiver at the sight of him. “Satoru, I’m not joking. He’s dangerous.”
“I know that better than anyone.” Gojo‘s look seems serious, but there’s a hint of pride laying underneath. “He likes to think he’s good. Unfortunately, no amount of daddy’s money can substitute for pure talent.” He swings his car door open and plops into the driver’s seat. He rolls down both windows and levels you with a sultry gaze. “I’m expecting a congratulatory prize after this.” he winks at you and you roll your eyes knowing exactly what he's insinuating.
“Ok hotshot, win the damn race first and then we’ll talk.” With that, Gojo whips his car around to the starting line and pulls up next to Naoya’s McLaren F1. Naoya is back in his car and sneers at Gojo through his open window.
“I hope y/n is prepared to be warming my bed tonight. Or maybe I should say my hood. She’s so irresistible, I’ll fuck her over my car as soon as I win the race. I’ll make you watch, and give you a few pointers on how to please your next woman.” Naoya takes glee in the way Gojo’s hands tighten around his wheel.
Gojo’s shades are perched low on his nose, and he glances at Naoya across his car. “All I’m thinking about is how nice she’ll look when I’m fucking her in the McLaren I’m about to win.” With that, Gojo rolls up his windows effectively shutting out any reply from Naoya. He revs his car, heating the engine and provoking Naoya at the same time.
After parting with Gojo, you had joined Sukuna and Geto where the other spectators stood on the side of the road. The roar of both engines filled your ears and your eyebrows scrunched in worry. It wasn’t that you doubted Gojo- you’d never seen him lose a race to anyone other than Sukuna- but something felt different this time. The drop in your heart must have been evident in your expression because Geto reached over and squeezed your hand. It was impossible to say anything with the combined noise of the crowd and the engines. You looked up and gave him a strained smile and then locked eyes onto Gojo’s car.
‘Please let Satoru be okay’ you think. You have no idea what was on the line, but knowing Naoya’s involvement in the yakuza you knew it had to be something valuable.
A flag girl walks between the two cars for the countdown of the race. As she waves the flag to indicate the start, the drivers accelerate causing the tires to screech against the asphalt. They both have a smooth start and tear across the road to begin the 16-kilometer circuit that’ll wind throughout Tokyo and loop back to where they started.
The dust settles and the ringing in your ears fade. “Well”, Sukuna mumbles with a cigarette stuck in between his lips “that’s as strong of a start as any. Too bad you didn’t slice one of Naoya’s tires earlier, Geto.” He pulls the cigarette away from his lips and lets out a cloud of smoke.
“Oh yeah, like that would have helped Gojo’s situation out. Pulling something like that before a race like this is asking for a bullet in the head. He’ll be fine. He always is.” Geto gives your hand another squeeze and this time you return it.
“I wish they had markers set up throughout the circuit. I don’t wanna wait till the last kilometer to see their positions.” You’re squinting, attempting to see the two cars in the distance although their silhouettes have already been swallowed by the Tokyo skyline.
“Here, I’ll narrate for you princess.” Sukuna’s gruff voice is directly in your ear as he bends down a little. “The shitty daddy’s boy is going to pull some illegal move….. hmmm probably try to crash Satoru a few times.” Your eyes widen as Sukuna continues talking, the smell of nicotine invading your nose, “Gojo’ll probably bang-up his own car in the process trying to dish it back to Naoya...maybe get himself killed and then-”
You cut Sukuna off, pushing his chest away from your body. You scowl at him. “You’re an asshole, Sukuna.”
He throws back his head and laughs with his whole body “I get that from your boyfriend y’know.”
After a while, the familiar roar of engines sounds in the distance and you feel your stomach drop as the two cars drift through the last turn. They’re pushing through the last kilometer when the crowd of people start yelling.
“He’s ahead!” You’re shouting and leaning as far into the road as you dare. Geto’s got a firm grip on your shoulder preventing you from falling into the street. You take a quick look at Geto, and his dark eyes are filled with delight.
“Not by much, but looks like he’s still gaining speed.”
“Slick bastard.” Sukuna flings his cigarette onto the street, a smirk is stretching the corner of his lips. They speed through the finish line, Gojo one car length ahead of Naoya. The crowd is going absolutely wild and rushing onto the road, hoping to get a glimpse of the action that’ll inevitably occur between the two men. You make to run to Gojo’s car when Geto’s hand suddenly pulls you back.
“Wait a bit, angel.” His tone is protective, and his grip tightens on you. “You don’t want to get into the middle of that fight. And you don’t want to be around Naoya. Ever.” He’s looking at you, deathly serious now. And as you’re scanning his features, there seems to be an ounce of fear buried underneath.
Gojo drifts his car in a half-circle and drives back near the finish line. His door flies open and he emerges from the car, one long leg stretched out after the other. His hair is running wild, and he’s got a maniacal grin set on his face. He looks back at Naoya who’s stumbling out of his car and stalking towards Gojo.
“You piece of shit, Satoru.” The words tear through Naoya’s throat, eyes set in ablaze. “What the hell did you put under that hood. There’s no way you gained that much on me in the last kilometer.”
Gojo laughs in his face, looking down at Naoya. “Like I’d ever tell you my secrets, Zenin. Now hand over my keys.” Naoya tosses them straight at Gojo’s face, but he snatches them with quick reflexes. Gojo lets out a whistle, body turned towards his new car “Mannn I’m going to enjoy the sex in this one.”
There’s pure, unadulterated malice in the look Naoya gives him. “Watch your back Satoru. Your luck will run out one of these days, and when it does I’ll personally send you to hell.”
Gojo places the new keys in the pocket of his jacket. “I’m sure you will, and if that happens I’ll drag you down with me.” Naoya sends him one last dirty look before joining his men and disappearing from the track.
“Toru!!” You’re running full speed at your boyfriend and he just manages to turn in time, before you fling yourself into his chest. “Oh my god” you’re laughing and when you look up into Gojo’s face, the lights from the street frame your features. “You totally smoked his ass. And by a whole car length too!”
Gojo chuckles alongside you “Did you forget who you’re dating? The king of fucking street racing, princess.” And with that, he grabs your wrist and tugs you to the McLaren he just won with a slight skip in his step. His boyish enthusiasm excites a round of giggles from you as you trail behind him.
You vaguely catch Geto utter “here they go again.'' Before Gojo swings you around and pushes his hips against yours. “Time to commemorate my... no our new baby” and you laugh against Satoru’s lips as he backs you up onto the hood. He slides your butt up with one firm hand on your hips and braces his other next to your face. You’re laying back fully now, Gojo’s stature is blocking out the moon and your attention is on the restless energy emanating from his body.
Gojo leans his face in closer and steals a kiss from you. It's sloppy; all the adrenaline from the race coursing through his lips. You immediately allow him access, and he greedily accepts. There’s an urgency in the way he sucks and nips at your tongue.
“Toruuu” you pull back with a whine.
“Fuck it.” He murmurs. There is a fire ablaze in his face and he roughly pulls you off the hood. “Get in the car. Time to get outta here.”
He tosses the keys of his old car to Geto. “Take it back to the shop for me, Suguru. I might’ve scraped up the paint a bit too.”
“Of course you did.” Geto gives his friend an annoyed look, but there’s no real anger in his voice.
Gojo puts the keys into the ignition, and the engine turns on with a purr. “Fuuuck, it sounds almost as sexy as you babe.”
“Gojo if you compare me to a car ever again, I’m dumping your ass and you can get yourself off with a steering wheel.” Your side-eye is sharp enough to cut, but Gojo just cackles.
“Hmmm, I’ve never tried that before. Think ya could give me a lesson before you leave though?”
“Can't believe I ever agreed to date you.” You murmur under your breath looking out the window in irritation. Despite his joking words, Gojo links your fingers and rubs soft circles against the top of your hand. He’s speeding through Tokyo now, one hand on the wheel. He seems at ease but you can tell he’s on edge still- probably antsy to get back to his apartment and fuck you into tomorrow.
He’s weaving in and out of traffic, downtown Tokyo getting closer and closer. It’s a familiar setting, Gojo in the driver’s seat, the city lights casting blues and reds across the dashboard. It’s almost enough to put you at ease, but this time the air is filled with something else. A tension that clings to Gojo’s shoulders and lays plainly across his face. It’s unlike him but you don’t comment on it, opting for caressing his hand instead.
You quickly make it to his apartment building, and Gojo swerves the car into the closest parking spot. He runs over to your side, rips open the door, and pulls you out with both hands. He’s almost pushing you to the doors of the elevator at this point.
“Slow down Satoru, we have all night.”
“That’s not enough time, it’ll never be enough.” You would’ve laughed at his childish statement if it weren’t for the last bit he mutters and your ears barely catch it. You ride up the elevator and stumble into his apartment, Gojo’s hands running all over your body. “Bedroom.” He mumbles against your neck, trailing sloppy kisses all up your jaw. “Wanna fuck you right.”
He leads you into his bedroom and tears at your shirt, ripping it over your head. He reattatches his lips to your neck and begins to suck. You’re pushing at Gojo’s shoulders trying desperately to rid him of his jacket, but the taller man is leaning his weight on you, and it’s impossible to even move. Gojo’s lips move over yours as he pushes you onto the bed. He’s hovering over you and you take the opportunity to grab at his crotch, giving it a slight squeeze. Gojo growls into your mouth, his hands tightening on the bed sheets above your head. You use the distraction to stick your tongue in his mouth, trying desperately to gain some sort of dominance. He tastes lightly of cotton candy, probably from the lollipop he was sucking on earlier.
Gojo’s breaks away, hands trail down your body. Once they reach the top of your skirt, he rids you of them and your underwear in one go. “Fucking beautiful” he whispers against the skin of your thigh. You buck your hips slightly trying to encourage him to speed up his pace.
“Please, Satoru- need you.” Your eyes slide shut as he trails his lips back up your thigh and to your stomach.
“Patience, princess.” his warm breath, makes you shiver and your hands come up to tug at his hair. Gojo obliges and brings his head back up to yours, hovering for just a second. All of a sudden he lowers his hips and simultaneously grinds once into your cunt as he kisses you.
You pull at his pants. “Satoru, I need to feel you, please.'' He leans back from your body and strips off his shirt and jeans. Your eyes are racking up the plains of his pale skin, and you reach out to his shoulders to bring him down closer. His kisses are getting sloppier and sloppier and his grinding is getting more intense. Gojo starts mumbling and lost in your pleasure you can’t make out what he’s saying. Until he lets out a particularly loud curse, and in your haze you catch one sentence.
“Fucking Naoya, I’d never let him have you.” Your entire body shivers and it’s not because of Gojo’s increased pace. You look up at him and his eyes are unfocused.
“Satoru..what.” You can barely speak, body stiffening. “What’d you mean ‘let him have me’?” Gojo stills and his eyes focus on an area above your head, a guilty expression present on his face.
At his remorseful look, it suddenly all clicks in your brain. Gojo’s antsy attitude this morning- How he never gets like that before a race. You just brushed it off as nerves from never racing Naoya before. The way he was still nervous even after the race was over, as if he was relieved. All of the tell-tale signs begin to make more sense.
“You bet me.” Your whisper grazes across Gojo’s lips and his eyes slide shut, his head hanging a little. “You told Naoya he could have me if you lost? Gojo are you kidd-“ tears start to prick at your eyes and Gojo suddenly opens his eyes as he interrupts you.
“Never.” He staring at you with a sincerity you’ve never seen him display before. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb catching a stray tear. “I’d never let him touch you. And if I had lost, I would’ve shot everyone in the Zenin yakuza starting with Naoya and his cheap dye-job.”
Something about Satoru threatening to kill one of the most powerful men in Tokyo turns you on even more. You wrap an arm around his neck and buck your hips, encouraging him to start moving again. “He’d have to chase us into the shadows before I’d ever let him lay a hand on you.” Gojo’s head is right up against your ear.
Despite his rash decision and asshole attitude that got him in the situation in the first place, you know in your heart that Satoru would never bargain you off like a piece of property. Your boyfriend is more distraught than you’ve ever seen him. Probably thinking that you’ll dump him for not telling you about the bet. You’ve been through too much together to do that though. Your heart beats wildly as you think might even love him too much. A sigh escapes your lips, forgiving him instantly and carding your fingers through his hair for reassurance “Im here Toru. You won. I’m not going anywhere.” You pull at his white locks, dragging his head to your lips. He captures them in a seething kiss.
“I’m sorry” he whispers, pulling back. “I should have told you.”
“Yea... But it doesn’t matter anymore Toru. You kicked his ass. And you looked fucking hot doing it too. ” The tension suddenly dissipates and Gojo lets out a sincere laugh.
“God, I fucking love you.” You’re shocked for a second before you push at his shoulders to switch your positions.
“What’re you doing, princess?” Gojo is admiring this new view of you above him, straddling his hips.
You lean down and with a nip at his ear lobe you whisper, “Giving you your congratulatory prize, hotshot.”
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojou x reader#gojo fic#gojo x you#tj.fics#woo
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Is Vision black since both the human versions of his sister and daughter are?
The Vision is a robot. All of the humans involved in his creation are white, although it's worth noting that Phineas Horton was Jewish. In the past, when he has assumed a human disguise as "Victor Shade", he appeared as a white man, and his predecessor, Jim Hammond, also had the appearance of a white man. Simon Williams, whose brain scans act as the basis for Vision's emotions and personality programming, is white, and Vision is considered an informal member of the Williams family-- who, again, are white.
So, no, I don't believe that Vision is textually coded as anything other than white. Other members of the synthezoid family, like Victor Mancha, Jocasta, and, as you mentioned, Viv Vision herself*, are explicitly depicted as people of color. I don't believe that has ever been the case for Vision himself.
His experiences can been read as an allegory for, frankly, a lot of different stuff, and I think that's intentional. He is marginalized as a metaphorical outsider, not unlike the mutants. These metaphors are versatile, but they're also deeply imperfect, and there is often no right way to label them. I think Wanda's marginalization as a mutant and witch during V&SW is an obvious stand-in for her race and percieved foreignness, but that's because she's a textually racialized character whose fictional attributes are directly correlated to her real-world identities.
Many Black readers and critics have written about the Vision as a Black character or an allegory for Black experiences. There is a lot to be said about race and robots in fiction, particularly depictions of Blackness and Black bodies. I am not the right person to have that conversation with.
*Genuine question, though-- is Viv's human form Black? Is that something that we know for certain was the intent? I always assumed that she designed as an Ambiguous Brown Girl™, which is a whole problem unto itself.
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Absconding Hero
[Fantasy, 1512 words]
When I came to it only took a moment to determine that I was not, in fact, dead. The Home of Lords would never be this bitterly cold, nor would I still be sore from my unfortunate encounter with the mountain’s wildlife. Sitting up against the violent protests from my body, I took note of my surroundings.
The room is small, hardly enough space for even one person to live in. The lower half of the walls are packed dirt and wooden restraining walls carved with holy words. The only things here are what could be called generously a door that stopped the wind and snow, the cot I was am laying down on and a wooden pack frame with a bedroll and neatly tied up sacks that presumably holds everything else a person would need to live on a mountain. Trying to stand proved to be a terrible idea, my whole body feels like it is getting struck by a hammer over and over in time with my heartbeat. Pulling off my gown which had been modified for the cold was an ordeal that left me sweating in spite of the cold, but I needed to see the extent of my injuries.
Bruises and angry red scratches cover most of my body with a single massive bruise that has turned the entirety of my left shoulder, chest and neck nasty shades of black, blue, purple, yellow and green. Considering the cause, I am in remarkably good shape. Something with the bruise on my chest caught my eye, a reddish brown pattern is barely visible amongst the more violent colorations. It took several moments of peering at the symbols before I realized that these are holy words, that knowledge immediately identifying the words even though I could only see them upside-down. That would explain why I am not dead. Figuring that what I need most of right now is rest, I slowly pulled back on my gown and arranged myself the best I could on the cot. It was perhaps fifteen minutes of doing nothing except for attempting to sleep while withstanding wave after wave of constant pain before the “door” to the have buried room opened.
“You’re awake,” it was said as a statement rather than a question.
Opening my eyes, I saw the man who saved me. Though he could have been mistaken for a burly mountain man, there are hints of a completely different man beneath the heavy coats and unkempt hair. His posture, gaze and stride are all too tempered for him to have spent his life in the wilderness. He stood out of arms reach checking my physical condition with a critical and I suspected he was calculating how likely it is that I jump out of the cot and stab him.
“Thank you,” my voice rough. “Relax yourself, I mean you no harm. Not before you saved me and especially not now.”
He is clearly still skeptical but he closed the door behind him then crossed the room to the simple hearth, sitting on the ground back against the wall facing me in the cot.
“Who sent you?”
“The Servants of the Lords sent me and three other groups out into these mountains. I was separated from my group... How long have I been recovering? Three days before then was when we lost each other.”
“How many people per unit?” He asked, ignoring my question.
“Will you hurt them?
“I won’t kill them.”
“... each group was dispatched with three apprentices and two squires.”
He fell silent for a time, thinking. Eventually, he reached over to his pack frame and pulled out a handful of dry sticks which he tossed onto the embers. One after another, the wood caught fire, growing into a proper hearth.
“The answer is clear, but you must say it,” he said breaking the silence. “What is the Servants’ purpose for sending you here?”
He did not turn to face me when he asked this and he kept any emotion behind a face that would have been called expressionless if it were not so tired.
“We are tasked with bringing you back so that you can fill your role.”
Sighing, he stood back up and grabbed his pack frame, slinging it over his shoulder.
“You’ll fully recover by winter’s end so stay here until then. There is a hole under the cot with enough food to get you through the season if you ration it out properly.”
“You won’t stay? Is this not your home?”
“I’ll make another. Somewhere the Servants can not find.”
Craning my neck to watch him leave was horribly painful so I gave up, dropping my head back down to rest and instead speaking.
“Why do you run?” Immediately, I regretted saying anything. The tension that filled the small room pushed away my pain momentarily and replaced it with a nervous cold sweat. All at once, every warning I was given about this man came rushing back. Stories of his bloody escapes, rumors of his skill with a sword and the implicitly understood power he wields as the Chosen.
“Run?”
I held my breath.
“Tell me, young squire of the Lords,” his voice holding an edge I did not want to test. “Do the Lord’s Laws apply to all? Are there any exceptions to the Laws?”
“No, there are no exceptions.”
“None at all?”
“Not even the Lords can disobey the Laws.”
“Now tell me what the Gifts are.”
“I... I do not follow. Where is it you are going with these questions””
“Young squire, the first and greatest Gift the Lords bestowed upon their creations is Separation. Distinction of oneself from another. That is why the Lords number in the dozens, the people are millions and why I am not you and you are not me. If not for this fact, there would be no Laws to break or Transgressions to commit as there would be no Other to hurt. That is the faith I grew from child to adulthood with and the faith I held when I condemned myself to a life of war as a solider, to save Another from the wounds war inflicts upon the innocent. So why then, is there a Chosen? Why, young squire?”
“Being Chosen is a gift granted from the Lords,” my answer calculated but true to the teachings. “Strength beyond mortal man to quell Transgressors and divide the Lingering One.”
“Was that not what I was doing? Going to war to stop those very sins? To protect Another from Transgressors?” He moved away from the door and into my line of sight, his expression exhausted despite the hard strength in his voice. “I did not ask to be Chosen, it is not something I had decided for myself. Rather, the Lords themselves are the ones who burdened me with a fate, a life not their own to direct as they wish. Young squire, I am a devoted man but my Distinction has been taken from me by those I have no hope of freeing myself from. The Lords have broken their own Laws while I still cling to them. Let it be known that I am not trying to sway your faith, I only wish for you to understand why I must never take up this mantle of Chosen. My faith will continue as will my prayers, regardless the fact that who hears them now is not known to me.
“When the season ends and you can return to the Servants, tell them that it is my unshaken faith that keeps the Chosen away. Label me a heretic, but I shall meet my end with more devotion to our faith than the Lords themselves. May your recovery be swift and painless. With luck, we shall never meet again.”
Again he stood and again he made to leave.
“Wait.”
“Did I not just make myself very clear?”
“As you refuse the responsibility, you should return the sword so that it may be given to another.”
“That piece of metal can be wielded by myself alone, though you are welcome to take it if you can. It is buried in a meadow directly east of here, at the foot of the boulder.”
“You... you buried the Sword of the Lady?”
“It never stays buried for long, the thing has a despicable tendency to move on its own. Again, please take it if you can.”
With that, he stepped out into the snow and cold, shutting the door to leave me in a tiny room with nothing more than a weak fire, a cot and supposedly a store of food beneath me. His words sank in uncomfortably, so I pushed them out with prayer. A prayer for my health, a prayer for the other squires and apprentices, a prayer for a swift winter and a prayer for summer to come before spring. I did not want to recount the Chosen’s words back the Servants, my stomach churning at the thought of it alone. May luck favor me, a demotion would be horribly embarrassing.
#character#character dialogue#chosen hero#chosen one#chosen one trope#creative writing#dialogue#fantasy#fantasy story#fantasy writing#fiction#fiction writing#hero#knight#original characters#original story#magic#magic system#magic words#reluctant hero#soldier#subversion#story#storytelling#story telling#short story#swords#swords and magic#warrior#world building
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In Your Own Words - CH. 19
Genre/Au's: Rom-Com, fluff with bits of angst - Coworkers!AU; enemies to lovers; Journalist!AU
Paring: RM x Reader
Words count: 7.051
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Cursing; Angry Namjoon; Mentions of cheating; Accusations; Namjoon and OC are just stupid when arguing;
Synopsis: After graduating your dream was to become a journalist and work to one of the biggest magazines in the country. But that pretty dream does not translate perfectly to reality. The magazine is on verge of bankruptcy, great journalists are moving the rival magazines and not being replaced, your boss is a jerk who doesn't even know your name. Fate seems to be toying you around to its own pleasure, can you take control of your life and achieve your dreams, or you are going to be carried away by fate's plans?
Author note: This fanfic follows the world of the Brazilian production Procura-se um marido series. I do not own the series or original content.
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When you arrived at TopNews magazine, you are greeted by a dark-haired young man of little over twenty.
"Wait a moment, Jessy will come to you," he warns, indicating for you to sit in one of the comfortable white leather armchairs.
Officially unemployed for four days, your first reaction was to refuse when Jessy called to set up that meeting, but then you thought better, remembering lunch and the doubts that are bothering you, you had some time, and decided to accept the invitation. Sabrina thought you sensible, but she knows nothing about your suspicions nor that you intend to go to the enemy's territory for an investigation.
Their writing is very different from Just Facts. Everything seems rigidly ordered and sterilized in its shades of white and chrome, state-of-the-art computers, busy journalists who don't waste time making bets, and they even have an espresso machine instead of an old coffee maker. You look for Yoongi or Hani around the well-distributed room, but you just find the redhead. She gives you a pitiful smile, and you have the impression that something is wrong with the new job.
"This way, please," the boy says five minutes later.
You are taken to a room twice the size of Namjoon's, a dozen portraits hung on the walls, rivaling the many frames on the covers of success of TopNews. One of the portraits, is one of those of a college class, calls your attention right away, but you try to disguise your interest. Jessy stands up and extend her hand to you in formal greeting.
"Good morning, Y/n. I appreciate your punctuality." She smiles kindly and warm, despite the stark black suit. "What did you think of our facilities?" And indicates the chair for you to sit.
"Quite impressive."
“They are." She settles herself elegantly into her seat. "It's good to work with ease at the cashier. My love, you left so suddenly from our lunch last week that got me worried." And blinks a few times, as if showing concern.
“It was an indisposition. I'm better."
"That's great. Well, Y/n, I imagine you already know the reason for this meeting."
You nod. “You want an answer to your offer. And I already have one, but if you don't mind, I'd like to ask a question before answering?"
She frowns in surprise and can't hide her displeasure. "About what?"
“About that photo over there." You point to the portrait hanging on the white wall behind her.
She turns her head and smiles. “Oh yes, my journalism class."
Exactly what you thought.
"I didn't know you and Namjoon went to school together," you say, trying to appear calm.
“We graduated on the same year."
"Hmm… how boring. I mean, if he was like he is then, they must have been very difficult years. Namjoon is complicated.” You let go and watch her reaction.
Her brow twitches slightly. “He hasn't changed much since then, I think. We weren't very close. We argued a few times, for having different points of view."
"Oh! Then that's it! Now I understand the way he refers to you," you let out, praying you are doing this right.
"What way?" She straightens up in her chair, and you have to dig your nails in the palm of your hand, so you don't smile.
“He's not much of a fan of yours, but I think you already know."
"Yes I know. But what exactly does he say about me?" She asks, impatient.
You lower your eyes. “I don't want to gossip. It is neither right nor ethical to speak ill of an employer. I hope you understand."
She's silent for a full minute, and you think you lost her, but, you know, she's a woman after all. And what woman would leave such a thing
be over like this?
“I understand, honey,” She comments in that honeyed voice. "Don't worry, I won't say anything to him, and I won't be offended. Namjoon and I never really got along. So, you must not believe what he says about me. He resents my success. I turned TopNews into a sales record while Mr. Kim struggles not to close the doors."
"It's true," You sigh, looking at her. "Just Facts is doing very poorly."
"What a pity." One of the corners of her lips turn up, her eyes take on a joyful glow. "But does he talk a lot about me? By chance he..."
Someone knocks on the door. The reception guy.
"Sorry to interrupt, Jessy, but Senator Augustos has just arrived and want to you her right away. I've already accommodated him in the conference room."
She jumps to her feet.
"Did he bother to come in person? Fantastic!" So as if remembering your existence, she says, "I need to have a word with the Senator, but I'll be back in a second, my love."
“Alright, I'll wait."
She goes to meet the senator who, weeks earlier, had given an exclusive to Yoongi, but that Veiga, owner of Just Facts, had vetoed, leaving Namjoon furious and Yoongi frustrated. Was he there for another interview with your ex-coworker, now without having a rich businessman to veto the article?
You take advantage of the fact that you are alone and get up to examine the graduation photo closer. Namjoon haven't changed much since then. He's stronger now, hair shorter, but the strands still messy over the head. And the glasses were exactly the same. You smile without wanting to. You avoided thinking about him at all costs since you left Just Facts building on Monday. The problem is, a lot of things remind you of Namjoon; a toasted bread, a steaming cup of coffee, pizza, dogs on the street, your bedroom, your bed, your bathroom, your couch, your messy hair in the morning, your neighbor...
Unemployed, with a full head and a paralyzed heart, you tried to keep busy. So, you killed time by spending the afternoons at your brother's house, helping Lorena take care of him, but there isn't much to do. Hoseok is recovering quickly, the only snag is the cage around his calf.
He and his fiancée are happy and in love and make a point of expressing it, which is embarrassing and irritating on so many levels. Unfortunately, in one of these visits you walked in without knocking, and it was the worst idea you ever had, because you ended up meeting the two in a very embarrassing moment. They were... uh... celebrating something in a way that dispensed the use of clothes, for so to speak.
Shaking your head and returning your attention to the portrait, you search for Jessy's face. It takes you a while to recognize her. She has changed a lot over the years. She has lost weight, has dyed her brown hair blonde and her eyes have hardened.
Something tells you that you have found the answer, although you still don't know the question.
You take out your phone and take pictures of the portrait, then put it back in your bag and you sneak out of Jessy's office and the aseptic writing room, without looking around.
“My God, what a day!" Bea grumbles, throwing herself into the chair's restaurant in the city center. “That's why I can't go on vacation. Have accumulated work of at least two weeks!"
You have been avoiding Beatriz, afraid that she might tell you what you already know what has happened: her brother has gotten back together with his ex. But for the moment, you face your fears, following Namjoon's own advice and leaving your personal life aside, as you feel that something big, much bigger than you had supposed is happening.
"I'm sorry I called you in the middle of the day, Bea, but I needed to talk to you."
After leaving TopNews building, you called Bia and she had agreed to meet you at the restaurant, just three blocks from her work. The room is small, almost familiar, with plaid tablecloths and natural flowers on the tables. The windows are tall and narrow, lace curtains hanging on the lower half of the panes protecting customers from curious on the sidewalk.
"No problem," Bea replies, scanning the menu.
You waited for her to order and your fettuccine al pesto arrive to get into the subject.
"Did you meet your brother's college friends?"
She frowns, swallowing her food. “My brother was never one to have many friends, but I did meet some."
You take out your phone and show her pictures of Jessy.
“Oh, I remember her! She was crazy about Namjoon. Where did you find this picture?"
“Don't ask me, Bea."
"All right. What's up with Jessy?"
"Well..." You blush. What a fucking journalist you are. "I expected you tell me."
“Oh, Y/n, I don't know much about her other than what Namjoon told me. That girl lived at his feet, she even sent gifts. But he didn't want anything with her. He was dating a girl in senior year of chemistry, I think. My brother was never much of a womanizer...” She smiles smugly. "Jessy doesn't tolerate rejection very well and ruined his car paint with a wrench slit. She wrote "I hate you, asshole" inside a heart."
"My God! A bit extreme reaction."
“I think it was her idea of romanticism. It all ended in the police station. Namjoon can't even bear to hear her name spoken. Why are you so interested in my brother's life?"
You put your phone in your bag to take your eyes off hers. "I... uh... Because he and I work together," you say at last.
"Really?" she asks excitedly. “Why didn't you ever tell me this?"
“You never mentioned who your brother was. And I only knew about the kinship after you've traveled."
“Damn, what a small world! I never imagined that..." Her phone vibrates. Beatriz glanced at the screen and rolls her eyes. "Jesus! I need to breathe!" She mutters into the device. "Y/n, I'm going to have to go back to work. Stop by my house later so we can talk better. Tae is going to cook. Only vegetables, I think this time everything will be fine." You laugh, nodding your head. “Until night." And she hurries off, without even finishing the fettuccine.
You paid the bill and leave the restaurant feeling tense and excited. You haven't discovered a lot, but at least you have a starting point. Jessy loved Namjoon and had been rejected. Did she still harbor a grudge against him? You can bet that she does.
You go to the car parked at the end of the block and start it, putting the car in gear and turning the steering wheel. You are ready to leave the spot when a car the size of a tank stops in front of you, blocking the exit. You glared at the huge black BMW and by little you don't accelerate and destroy its rear end — okay, the likelihood that your car wouldn't surviving the collision, that's what stop you.
The middle-aged man with voluminous gray hair walks down and around the vehicle to open the passenger door. You know that man. You saw him once in a while in the newsroom yelling at Namjoon. Veiga is not the fifties hot, but he has the size and elegance to supply the excess of the abdominal fat.
A pair of long legs in a black pencil skirt follow. Veiga reaches out his hand to help her down, and when the woman straightens up on her jumping, he pulls her to him, planting a lingering kiss on her lips.
"Holy crap!"
With trembling fingers, you hurriedly open your bag. You take your cell phone and open the camera, capturing the exact moment the woman throws her head back, laughing, wrapped around the neck of the owner of Just Facts. You take some more pictures of the couple until they disappear from view.
Your thoughts are racing, but the enigmatic puzzle has begun to take shape, the pieces finally falling into place and making sense. You close your eyes and lean your head back against the backrest when you understand what's happening. As you left the house to meet Jessy that morning, you only intended to satisfy your curiosity, but at no time did you imagine who could discover the real reason Just Facts is going to the
hole.
Namjoon is right. He's being sabotaged.
"Mother fucker!"
Sabrina comes home from the office and finds you on the couch with your face buried in the computer and in the dozens of photos of the unlikely couple printed on paper.
"Did you take the job?" she wants to know excitedly.
“No, far from it, but I found something better."
She looks at one of the photographs, tilting her head.
"An article?"
“It's more like a dossier. You have no idea what I discovered."
"Who is this guy?"
"The owner of Just Facts. Let me just finish this text and I'll explain calmly. Can you fix it for me later? Sometimes I change some letters and
I don't realize,” You ask, grimacing. "Oh, and Bea invited us to dinner."
She shivers, dropping her bag on the couch.
“My goodness, better keep the antacid handy. I'm going to take a shower while you finish, and then you'll tell me what kind of intrigues you discovered over the potbellied crown."
You are so focused on what you are writing, absorbed in the evil plot that Jessy has created that Namjoon had no idea about, which you finish before Sabrina finishes the shower. You printed the three-page document so your friend, can correct and you are checking in when a commotion at the front door distracts you. Someone intending to break into the house by force.
“Hey, if you knock the door down, you'll pay for the repairs,” You warn when you open it.
A tall man in a well-tailored shirt is punching the door without pity. He is handsome despite his exhausted appearance. Slim, straight features and classic. The broad to no end shoulders reveals who he's.
You lean back against the doorjamb, wrapping the mound of papers in your hands until it turns into a cone — in case you need a weapon — and you cross your arms.
"What's your problem, huh? Besides breaking my friend's heart, you also intend to break the door?"
“You must be Y/n. I'm Seokjin. And I just want to talk to Sabrina. But she doesn't answer my calls!" He says, distressed.
"And wasn't that clear enough? She doesn't want to talk to you!"
“I love Sabrina,” he murmurs. "You need to understand that..."
"What, what?" You interrupt him. "You love her so much that you decided to make her your lover?"
"It's not that." He shakes his head, tortured. You almost feel sorry for him.
“I didn't want to get involved, but Sabrina is so…lovely, so unique, and perfect and... I found myself in love before I knew it."
"People who are engaged should not find others lovely, unique, perfect people,” you snap.
“And that's what I finally understood. And that's what I need to tell her. I just want a chance to explain myself. Just one chance to make her understand that I meant no harm, that things got out of hand! I just want her to listen to me."
You frown. You know what it's like. Want to tell someone what really happened and that someone doesn't give a damn about you. In addition, the anguish in Seokjin's eyes is visible. Too visible and familiar. And, who knows? You remember your grandmother reading Sabrina's fortunes. the right man on the wrong time.
Shit. Grandma always gets it right.
You shake your head, sighing.
“Sabrina is going to kill me,” you mutter, pulling away to give him space. He doesn't hesitate and gives you a grateful look as he enters.
Sabrina is walking back into the room at that moment in a flowery knit dress, hair still dripping. She freezes at the sight of the anxious man in front of her. Then looks at you, and the word “traitor” flashing across her forehead.
"Remember what my grandmother told you?" You ask and get no answer though something flashes in her eyes. "Just listen to what he has to say. Talk, okay? Maybe he's not the asshole we thought he is."
She averts her eyes but makes no move to lock herself in her room, which Seokjin takes it as encouragement.
“I'm done with Sohee,” he announces hastily.
You friend slowly raises her head.
“And what do you want me to do, celebrate? Stay where you are, Y/n!" She yells, preventing you from leaving the room. "You're going to stay here and listen to everything this asshole has to say."
You nod, keeping quiet to listen to Seokjin's explanation.
"You're absolutely right to hate me," he says. "I don't have much respect for myself either at this point. But Sabrina, I didn't do anything in case thought. Me and Sohee were together since high school. We always got along well, and I thought passion was that. Then I met you. I didn't choose to fall in love with you, but I did, and I'm sorry I put you in a difficult position."
"I really realized how sorry you were that day at the farm, pretending that I was nothing more than an unimportant architect."
'What did you want me to do? Sohee is a wonderful person, she doesn’t deserve what I did to her. I didn't want to hurt her even more."
"What about me, Seokjin? Do I deserve? Did you think about how all this made me wounded? Hold still, Y/n!"
"I was just going to..."
"Stay there!" And, turning to Seokjin, she adds: "You didn't stop to think about how I was feeling!"
"I didn't have time!" he counters. “But I've been thinking, a lot. Per that I opened the game for Sohee. She knows everything."
"And after she kicked you, you decided to come to me so I could lick your wounds?" Sabrina put her hands on her hips. Hmm. Seokjin should be careful from now on.
"No. It's not like that at all," he grumbles wearily, opening his arms. "She was even understanding, which made me even more disgusted with myself. I was the one who broke the engagement, Sabrina. I could not marry a woman loving another. I love you."
She swallows hard, and you hold your breath.
"If you think I'm going to want you back for this..." But she doesn't continue.
"I was hoping you'd want me back for not being able to live without me, just as I can no longer live without you. I was wrong, I admit, I am human and weak, a complete imbecile. But have you never been wrong? Never wanted to be able to go back in time and undo a bullshit? I would give anything to change our story, Sabrina, but I don't have that power. Only you have. If you give me a chance, I will prove to you that I am worthy to deserve your love. I will spend the rest of my days proving that I love you. Just... give me a chance. It's all I ask. A new chance."
All your friend does is stand still, looking at Seokjin with heavy breathing.
You take a step back toward the exit, and then another, and yet another, until you reach the door of the room. You smile as you close it noiselessly. Sabrina is reluctant, but she will end up giving Seokjin a second chance. It's written in her eyes. Does he deserve it? You aren't sure but who are you to judge someone who has fallen in love with the wrong person?
You knock on the apartment opposite and Beatriz answers at the same time, still in her work clothes, a glass of wine in her hands.
"Right on time!"
Yeotan jumps on your leg, and you can't resist and picked him up. Because of the new grooming, he has been given a collar decorated with shiny blue pebbles.
"Hey boy." You laugh as he starts licking your face. "I miss you too."
Tae is in the kitchen, absorbed in his pots, a terry cloth hanging over the shoulder. You greet him from afar.
"Good night, Y/n," he replies. "I hope you like ratatouille."
"Uh... me too," you say awkwardly, and right behind you, Bea laughs.
You shove the papers in your hand into your jeans pocket, offering to help Bea set the table. You explain to her that Sabrina might not show up and that you didn't have time to get anything for dessert.
"Do not worry. I bought lemon pie."
You take a quick look at the kitchen and lean over to Bea.
"What is ratatouille?" You ask in a whisper.
"A French vegetable-based dish. The eggplant is the only thing that worries me,” she confessed, arching her well-shaped brows.
You watch her features for a moment and realized that she and Namjoon don't look like at all. Bea has Tereza's delicate beauty, but the look... that somewhat authoritarian and irreverent manner is identical to that of her father and brother. You avert your eyes from hers, contemplating the table set.
“Sabrina isn't coming.” you point to the four services.
"I know. It's for my—” The doorbell rings. “Oh, he's here."
Oh please, please, please! Let it be Sabrina. Let it be Sabrina!
“You're ten minutes late!" Bea says as she opens the door.
"It took me a while to park the bike."
You close your eyes and takes a deep breath. Would you ever have your prayers answered?
Namjoon is smiling at his sister, his hair standing on end, as you loved him, his helmet hanging from his elbow, a black Led Zeppelin T-shirt in stylish letters, the basic jeans ever. A nerd who likes old school rock and speed. Although strange, the combination is perfect, making him irresistible.
“I brought wine,” he warns, giving his sister a quick kiss on the cheek when entering.
Then he sees you there, standing by the dining table, at which not long before you had spent the night building planes. His jaw tightens and his eyes take on that oppressive opacity.
"I found out today that you and Y/n work together" Bea comments, not noticing the tension that suddenly takes over the room and leaves you breathless.
He doesn't say anything, just watch you. You gut contracts, and you aren't sure if what you are feeling is fear or longing.
You bet on the last one.
"Hmm… yeah… So, Bia, I just stopped by. I can't stay for dinner."
He turns his eyes to his sister.
"Like this?" she snaps. "I've barely seen you since I got back from my trip."
“I'm sorry, but I have an appointment."
"I don't believe it, Jonnie. What do you have to do now that you can't wait an hour or two?"
He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, looking tense, when his sister calls out to him by the nickname.
"I…" he begins.
“Stay, Namjoon,” You interrupt him. He doesn't bother to look at you. "I'll have to... meet my brother in half an hour, and Taehyung made a lot of food. It would be wasteful."
"Oh no, Y/n," objects Bea. “You promised me first."
“Bea,” Namjoon and you said in unison.
He stares at you for a moment and, for once, doesn't look furious with you. You look away, blushing.
“Bea,” he begins again, less irritated now. "I'll come here another time, okay?"
"All right. Go there and take care of your super important business and leave your only sister here. A sister, by the way, who had her dog mutilated and still hasn't heard a single word on the subject."
"Stop the drama. Hair grows back,” he grumbles.
“But I liked them the way they were. And what is that blue stain in Yeotan's jaw?"
"Done!" Announces Taehyung, entering the room with a plate of something that smells really good. "Hey, how are you, Namjoon?"
He just gives his brother-in-law a nod.
“Please, Namjoon, stay!" Whispers Bea.
But his attention is on you. He looks at you with contempt again, and that's why you are so surprised when he says: “I think this dinner might be interesting." And joins Taehyung.
Bea chats about pleasantries with you, and you respond automatically, attentive to Namjoon's every move out of the corner of your eye. Alexia didn't come with him, but you are familiar with Beatriz's dislike of her sister-in-law, so it's not like he's taking a break from his girlfriend.
Shortly after, you sit down at the table, you are between Namjoon and Taehyung, who, very kind, serves you a generous plate, something alarming given his history in culinary. Not that you would be able to swallow anything but wine. Your stomach is collapsing, and you dread throwing up on the linen towel at any moment.
"Isn't it incredible that my neighbor works with my brother, and I don't know that?" Bea comments, taking a bold bite of a slice of tomato.
"Not so much if you knew the whole story," Namjoon grumbles, eyes on dish.
"How so?" she wants to know.
"Nothing."
Bea glances from you to Namjoon, her brow furrows. Taehyung notices the tension that surrounds you and changed the subject, talking about the many places that he has shown Bea in his homeland. It's a blessing, as you can stare at him, and pretend Namjoon doesn't exist.
"More wine?" Taehyung offers you in the middle of the conversation.
"Yes please."
"Aren't you going to taste the food?" And he fills your glass.
“Of course, Tae." You force yourself to spear a vegetable and chew it.
Shit, it's delicious!
"What do you think?" Tae speculates anxiously.
You take a few sips of wine before answering, but...
“Your track record isn't the best, Y/n. I don't think I should drink so much" Namjoon warns. "Since you're with a committed man."
His words dig into your chest and lodge there, killing everything around at once. But hearing it confirm what you already suspected makes something bubble inside of you.
"When did I really give you permission to meddle in my life? I can't remember..."
"It was just a warning," he counters in a low voice.
“I don't need your warnings. Save it for someone who really listens to them."
He snorts. “You know, I still don't understand how I could have been so wrong with you. Just needs to pay a little more attention to realize what kind of person you are."
“Maybe it's the cataract's fault." You skewered a slice of eggplant. "Old men suffer a lot from this. Especially senile ones like you."
One of the corners of his lips curled up slightly, but the smile doesn't come to fruition."
"And the ratatouille, Y/n?" Tae asks.
"And they suffer from the loss of lucidity too, don't forget," Namjoon adds.
"That too," You agree. “And hair loss, although a lot of people don't mind it. And teeth. Do you already wear dentures, Jonnie?"
He squares his shoulders, growing taller and more imposing in the chair by your side.
"Why are you here?" He asks bluntly.
"Because Bea invited me."
"Did you know I was coming? You're chasing me, is that it?"
You laugh, though nothing there amuses you. “Look, I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, but you're already a little senile."
He narrows his eyes, and for a second you think he's going to yell at you, which, on second thought, would be much better than that studied indifference.
“In case you haven't noticed,” You go on, “I'm home. Well, I'm in my building. It was you who showed up in my territory."
“I think I finally got the seasoning right,” Tae says anxiously. "Or not?"
Namjoon smiles in that cynical way you hate. “I had forgotten what a good actress that you are."
“And I'd forgotten what an asshole you are." You swallowed the rest of your wine and turns to Taehyung. "More please."
"Yes sure. But please tell me if I got the recipe right. It seems that for the first time I managed to cook something decent."
You are ready to tell Tae that he has cooked something really tasty this time, but Namjoon opens his mouth, diverting your attention.
“I sincerely hope this is the last time I have to put up with your presence."
"I say the same," You counter. "Maybe I'm the crazy one here, at the end of the day you are arrogant, rude, grumpy, bad neighbor, a cretin boss and a complete imbecile without a drop of discernment. I don't know where I was with my head when I thought I loved you."
"What?" Bea asks, dropping the silverware.
"Yeah, you described me right," Namjoon scoffs. "I'm all that, but you know what I'm not, Y/n? An idiot who believes the sweet words that
come out of the mouth of a traitor."
"Wait a second! What conversation is this? Did you get involved?" Bea demands.
"No!" Namjoon and you answer at the same time.
“Just being crazy to get involved with your brother." You turn to him. "I could stay here talking all night that nothing is going to get into that big head of yours, so I won't waste my time justifying myself. By the way, never again I will waste time with you. Today was the last time. Are you happy with your life, isn't it? I must not get involved in it. And I won't! I hope that one day you will discover the truth and repent of everything you said."
He's looking at you with a dangerous glint in his brown eyes, which you prefer to ignore.
"I've found out the truth!" He says through clenched teeth.
"Oh, you didn't even come close!" You retaliate. "For starters, you need to point that snobbish finger of yours at the right people. You were right in one thing, they are really sabotaging your magazine, but you suspected the wrong person."
You stand up, your pants pocket tangles up against the back of the chair, hindering your majestic exit. Shit! “Thanks for dinner, Bea. Taehyung, everything was wonderful." But the praise does not seem to be heard, because the couple stares at you open-mouthed. "Goodnight."
You march towards the door but turn around before leaving. Namjoon stares at you without moving a single muscle.
“Oh, and you were wrong about one more thing, Namjoon. Captain America easily blasts Iron Man. I searched. There is a HQ with the fight of the two. It's old, but you should know where to get one if you don't believe me."
He arches his eyebrows in surprise. Okay, you don't know why you bring up that silly subject. You guess you just wanted to make it clear how his assumptions are wrong. Or maybe you just want to invoke the memory of that perfect weekend in his teenage bedroom. Or you simply wish you were as powerful as Captain America and have a super-powerful shield that would protect you from his aggression.
You go home but stop with your hand on the doorknob as you hear the hoarse groans that come from inside the apartment. You roll your eyes and pat your pockets, finding your phone and car keys. You aren't going to stand there waiting for Sabrina and Seokjin to finish what they are doing. Namjoon could see you there in the hallway and think that you are “chasing” him, as he accused a little earlier.
A committed man. His voice ricochets through your head like a pinball, making you nauseous.
On the street, you decide that you'll go to the only place that at that moment feels like home.
"Hobi, are you naked?" You ask over the phone, starting at your car.
"What? No! But what kind of question is this?"
"Can I spend the night there…please?"
"Sure, why?"
“I just…want to be close to you."
Because at that moment, all you need is someone who really loves you.
At times like these, do you feel grateful to have a family, even if it's weird. You don't tell your brother anything about recent events —no there's no point in inciting him to beat up Namjoon, if only because you suspect that Namjoon would be the one to beat Hobi— but somehow, he noticed that something is wrong and does everything to cheer you up. Of course, he tries to find out what made you ask for a lap, and you tell only part of the truth: Sabrina is at home, getting back together with her boyfriend, and you want to give some privacy to the couple.
“What about my privacy? You do not care?" he asks, scratching the injured elbow.
"Of course, I do! So, I called to let you know I was coming. I don't want to see you naked ever again. yuck! I started having nightmares."
He laughs out loud, making Lorena blush at the embarrassing memory and rush to the kitchen to get more drinks.
Later, you make yourself comfortable on the sofa bed in the living room, and it isn't even as bad as it seems. But you can't sleep a wink. You hope Namjoon would listen to you and investigate the sabotage. He's a much better journalist than you are, and if he knew where to look, he would find what he needs to get the magazine out of the choke at once. It's all you want from him, to listen to you and save his job and the ones of your former colleagues.
Well, at least that's what you try to tell yourself. He hurt you in so many levels that you don't know what to feel anymore. Pain, hate, rancor and what makes you very angry, is that you miss him. You head is just a mess. Why the hell could you still not erase him from your heart? Why did you let he come in there in the first place?
Hoseok and Lorena are happy. Sabrina at this point is much more than happy. Apparently, everyone has their happy ending in sight. Except you. This must be what Vanda had been referring to when she said something worse could happen. Seeing everyone happy and being the only one to fall apart is a curse. And pretending it is nothing for Hobi has never worked, so in the morning, before he can pressure you to find out what really happened, you help Lorena prepare breakfast and get out of there quickly.
Your phone vibrates in your jeans pocket as you enter a busy Avenue.
"Darling, are you okay?" asks Grandma Cecilia's distressed voice.
"I am, grandma. Good morning."
“Don't lie to me, Y/n."
“Sometimes I wonder if anyone has ever managed to lie to you."
“Your mother and you always try. You have so much of her, so much of me also... Now tell me what's going on."
"Did you see in the cards that I'm in trouble?"
Okay, after everything that has happened, you ended up changing your ways to face certain things, especially mysticism.
“Troubled isn't quite the word. But I saw problems, darling. Big and dangerous. Where are you?"
"In the car. I'm going home." You stop at the traffic light and adjusts the phone between the ear and the shoulder.
"I saw your magazine. I was a little weirded out by your last zodiac reading."
"Yeah... I decided to follow your advice. I ended up with what I started without wanting. I undid the zodiac spell. But in the process, I lost my job, trust of the man I love... and the man himself."
"What do you mean 'undo the spell'?"
You tell her how you had managed to end the magic, how you had managed to make everything go back to the way it was before and the whole fight with Namjoon after that.
"Y/n! Why did you do such a stupid thing?" She scolds, annoyed, and you almost dropped the phone on the floor. "I knew you were going to ruin everything! I saw it happen. Someone should forbid you to control your own life. You don't know what to do with it."
You roll your eyes, the traffic light opens, and you accelerate, putting the car in movement.
"Oh, grandma, that's not possible. When I was messing with all that magic, you were mad at me, now that I fixed things you are mad with me. What do you expect from me anyway?"
"A little common sense! Do you really believe an old deck have the power to manipulate people's fate?"
You blink once. You almost hit the back of a glistening Range Rover so new.
"Don't you?" You manage to ask.
"Of course not! This story of Romani Magdalena is nothing but legend. How could you fall into such talk? I always warned you about charlatans. Never believe someone who charges for the service."
"But, grandma, I changed people's lives!"
"Maybe, but not because of the deck, but because these people heard what you said, followed your advice. There's nothing of sorcery about listening to advice."
“You didn't understand. Everything I wrote there really happened and..."
"Don't be silly!" She cuts you. "I'll ask Vladimir to take me to your house. Wait for me there. We'll have a serious talk, young lady!"
You must be really in trouble if Grandma Cecilia intends to leave her place. She almost never comes to town.
“Uh… it's fine."
“And Y/n, be careful. I don't like what I saw in the cards this morning."
"I'll be," You mutter, flustered.
"See? That's how it works! What are you going to do from now on it's your decision. Only yours. I just advise and say what I see. Understand the difference?"
"I- I..."
“Be careful,” She warns again, before hanging up.
Oh my God, can it be possible? Did you do it all wrong again? All right, no panic. What Grandma said makes sense, a lot more than to believe your zodiac is bewitched. But what about all those people? And Sabrina? And your story with Namjoon? A little confused, you decide to stop at the gas station, so you won't risk running over anyone. You go to the convenience store and order a latte. The little shop is small and not full. The freezers full of drinks, the shelves in the center are a jumble of snacks and sweets.
Grandma's words—and Jungkook's—scream through your mind, and you try to ignore them as best as you can. You drum your fingers on the counter as you wait, until reason win you over and you pick up the phone.
She answers on the third ring.
"Yeah! Sorry to disturb. Is everything ok there?"
"Everything. I was worried. Where did you spend the night?"
"At Hobi's. I thought you two needed some privacy. Everything worked out?"
“More than right. I mean, for now. I still haven't fully forgiven Seokjin. I'll make him break out in a cold sweat for a few days. Ah, Namjoon knocked here last night."
"He did?! What did he want?"
"To talk to you. Said he'll be here another time, or else he'll call you."
Oh my God! What did that visit mean? Did he want to apologize? Is there a possibility that something you have said at dinner has turned out to have some effect and is he willing to listen to you at all? Or did he just want to interrogate you to find out who's setting him up?
You shake your head, returning to the more immediate problem.
"Sa, I was here thinking about last Saturday, when you came back home... It was because of the last zodiac, wasn't it? From what it said in the magazine?"
“I didn't get to read this one. I have decided that I will never read a zodiac again in my life."
OH. My. GOD!
"So... so... why did you come home?"
“Because I realized how foolish I was to believe that a zodiac could have changed my life. Bewitched or not, it wasn't your fault."
You sink down onto the stool, closing your eyes.
Shit! What did you do?!
You tricked Namjoon into thinking you're a traitor, and why? Consequence, allowing him to get back together with his ex-girlfriend. You lost your job for the frame's fault. You believed that magic really existed. You couldn't be dumber even if you even tried.
"Are you okay, Y/n?" Her voice sounds distant in your ear.
"No, Sa," You moan helplessly. "I think I made the biggest mistake of my life!"
"All right. I don't understand anything but calm down. Where are you?"
"At a gas station downtown."
“Come home and tell me what's going on. Who knows I can help you with something, Seokjin is still sleeping, but I made him breakfast. Very golden toasted bread, as you love."
"OK. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
At least you thought you would.
You go to the cashier, still anesthetized, wanting to kick your ass for having been so stupid and irreversibly ruining the best relationship you ever had, throwing the man you love right into the arms of his ex. You lost your confidence, his admiration, and knowing that hurts almost as much as thinking that Namjoon might have really loved you at some point.
And you still managed to get fired without ever writing a story. You really doubt Namjoon would give you a letter of recommendation, which it would be very difficult to find a new position. You have little money in the bank, and it has to cover the car repair checks, the day-to-day expenses. And your grandmother is coming to town with the sole purpose of talking to you.
Misfortunes always come in pairs, that's what they say.
That's why, all that whirlwind of information in your mind that you don't see the danger approaching. You didn't know you were about to cover your first real news story. Nor that, contrary to all rules of the profession, you would be the protagonist.
Author note: I really have so much fun writing their arguments.
Feedback is always appreciated.
Ⓒ 2022 Sugarushsuga, do not copy, translate or repost.
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𝐀 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞
Authors note: This fanfic is intended to be a self insert (myself) x canon (Eben.ezer) so this is NOT a reader x canon! Also I don’t write much stories so my apologizes if this isn’t great by all means, but you may reblog this fic if you want to! Update - I finished this late but eh that’s alright (You may share this if you like!) Gif isn’t mine
Word Count: 1,014 words
Includes: Age gap | Fluff | Redeemed Scrooge + mentions of this past self | 3rd person POV | Songfic
December 25th was a special day for most who celebrate the Christmas holiday, this particular holiday was in full swing in London at a certain house that was home to the older man, named Ebenezer Scrooge. He was the host of the Christmas party, in which surprised everyone in town. Since in previous years Scrooge hated the holiday and despised it, but ever since the ghosts of Christmas past, present, future and a particular girl named Kal changed his ideologies about the holiday.
I'll begin again
I will build my life
I will live to know that I
fulfill my life
He invited everyone in town, the children, the adults, the poor, the upper class, anyone whom you can think of was at the occasion. They all conversed, danced, and the kids were playing games with each other. He was filled with love, he was glad he could redeem himself from his past actions. But his heart was danced in his chest when she arrived.
Kal walked up to his house and took a deep breath, she ran her fingers through her long black hair and knocked on the door rather nervously. The girl wasn’t too fond of formal occasions, in which was why she showed up 30 minutes late. She wasn’t too fond of wearing dresses either, but she desperately wanted to see Ebenezer so she didn’t mind.
Right after she knocked on his door, Ebenezer quickly opened the door to see the younger woman standing right in front of him. The older man’s heart swelled in his chest and a tint of blush crept onto his cheeks looking at the girl, she had on a white and pink causal dress. Her body was quite different than the other women in town, but Ebenezer didn’t mind it at all. Kal’s heart swelled in her chest as well, Ebenezer had on a dark blue suit that was quite fitting on his figure.
I'll begin today
Throw away the past
And the future I build
will be something that
will last
“Kal my dear! I’m glad you showed up, I was worried you wouldn’t show up. You look stunning, please come in.”
“T-thank you Mr. Scrooge you look great yourself, and thank you for the invitation!” She nervously said as she walked in.
The older man noticed that Kal was quite nervous, she was an open book when it comes to her emotions. Almost everyone can tell exactly what she was feeling. He was about to say something but Kal beat him right to it.
“Mr. Scrooge...can we speak in private? I’m sorry I get nervous when it comes to get togethers like this.”
“Why certainly Kal, I hate seeing you uncomfortable like this. Follow me, we can speak outside in the back.”
The girl followed him and they met in the back where there wasn’t anyone. The sky was beginning to turn a darker shade a blue, which contributed to the mood. Kal looked down sadly and felt her heart palpitate in her chest as her hands trembled.
“Are you alright Kal? I-I know I was often bitter towards you and the others, I cannot forgive myself from such actions.”
“Mr. Scrooge it’s fine you don’t need to apologize it’s not your fault. It's just..the reason why I wanted to talk to you in private was because I...deeply care about you, I...I love you, you matter so much to me and the other townspeople. You’re not alone..”
Kal was a blushing and trembling mess, she felt her throat constrict due to her fearing that he would reject her. Ever since she laid eyes on him, her feelings for the older man grew and grew even though he was cold on the outside. But deep down, she knew that he had a soft and happy side, no one was mean for no apparent reason there was always a reason for someone’s madness. She asked how he was doing, and always listened to him whenever he needed to speak about something. Kal was quite intimated at first glance, but as days pass her love for him sparked and grew.
I will start anew
I will make amends
And I'll make quite
certain that the story
ends
Ebenezer couldn’t believe his ears, the shy girl that he deeply admired admits that she liked him out of all people? If it wasn’t for her, he would never achieve happiness and forgiveness. He softly smiled and took a step closer to Kal, placed one of his hands on her cheek and leaned down to her level.
“My dear you don't need to look so down. Those words of kindness, mean so much to me and I will forever cherish them in my heart. Without you, I’m afraid I will dwell in the past forever. Thank you sticking with me, thank you for understanding me. Thank you for everything my dear, I really adore you Kal, you can say I love you too my love. You really are a Christmas miracle.” He said blushing.
Without realizing it, Kal rushed into Ebenezer’s chest and hid her face from blushing so much. He was in shock and his face flushed a bright red, he giggled softly and held her close to his chest. She looked up at his blue crystal eyes and smiled at him with her innocent brown eyes.
“I shall begin another path, throw away the past forever. I will be a new man, and begin a new future with you my dear.”
“And I will stay with you as long as you need, I will always listen to you Mr. Scrooge.”
“My dear, you can call me Ebenezer if you wish.”
They both giggled, and Ebenezer placed both hands on Kal’s cheek which made her blush even more through her tan colored skin. He knew she was ready for him, they both closed their eyes and shared a kiss which seemed to last the whole evening.
On a note of hope
On a strong amen
And I'll thank the world
and remember when
I was able to begin
again
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poe dameron headcanon/scenario
protective dad poe dameron™ and his kid BB-8 take a trip to the resistance droid hospital, aka, you.
"where's the maintenance droid?" "broken."
"so who's gonna fix BB-8?" "me."
"sorry— what?" "don't tell me you've never seen someone other than a maintenance droid repair a droid before commander—" "okay hotshot, just hurry up and fix him please before his chip fries and blows up the entire resistance."
when i say protective, i mean PROTECTIVE.
this man will stand l i t e r a l hairs behind you just to watch your every move as you work on poor little BB-8.
BB-8, meanwhile, finds the entire saga hilarious to his fried little brain.
of course, the maintenance droid has to be broken right as the best pilot in the resistance needs his precious little 'one of a kind' droid tended to.
but as protective as this dad could be, he struggles to find any real errors in your technique, in fact, he finds it somewhat impressive and tries to sneak some notes in his little journal.
"you trying to take my job commander? think you can do it better? fine— go right ahead, don't let me stop you." "it's j-just for emergencies-" "yeah okay."
poe's distracting. incredibly distracting. whether it's the breathing down your neck, sighing impatiently, or tapping his foot, he has a way of being utterly infuriating in the most oddly endearing way.
argues with you over white vs ivory vs cream paint and the complexities of different shades of white. "that's the wrong white!" "no it's not, lighting makes a big difference and— dameron! he's still drying you're gonna ruin the paint!"
tries to suggest upgrades to give BB-8 at the worst of times as if you don't have 10 other droids, AND COUNTING, waiting for your attention today.
it comes to a point where you have to YELL at poe, tell him to sit his ass down and wait for BB-8 to be done. "you want your ball-sized kid back or not!?"
from then on he listens, waits patiently. you get your job done and he can now bother someone else with his dad antics.
since that day, however, over the weeks and months he's become familiar with you and your work, he now ONLY lets you work on BB-8.
"poe, i'm falling behind on requests- can't this wait until tomorrow? i promise, first thing-" "i need him for our next mission, we head out tonight and well... i don't trust anyone else or any droid for that matter." "you owe me a caf." "deal".
from major shutdowns, suspiciously boot-sized dints, to chipped paint on BB-8. this man only comes to you. any minor inconvenience? you. even if someone just looked or breathed at BB-8 funny, ESPECIALLY rey.
"poe, she didn't even do anything." "yeah? then explain BB-8's behavior right now huh?" b e e p - b e e p ? "SEE?" "kriff poe, you're losing it."
when you have the time, you entertain his new hobby of following your tail and framing it as if he needs your help with something droid-related and in return, poe provides cafs as requested and of course, good company.
extra:
"you know i'm an x-wing pilot too right? droid maintenance isn't my entire life?"
"—you're a piLOT!?" he manages to choke his words right into his black caf.
[gif credit ! @nathindrakes] | [the urge to write a whole fic about this is strong but for now pls have this post. but honestly. if anyone wants a fic... let me know.]
#poe dameron imagine#poe dameron headcanon#poe dameron scenario#star wars imagine#poe dameron x reader#the transition from commander > dameron > poe. you seeing what i'm seeing?
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any way you want it | kth | m
— summary; in which your best friend, Taehyung, finds out about your unsatisfying sexual experiences and decides to put an end to that track record himself.
— contents and warnings; smut, childhood best friends, Taehyung x reader, bigdick!tae, breast play, oral (f receiving), dry grinding, dirty talk, tae has a praise kink, unprotected sex (be responsible!!), rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, Taehyung takes things personally but he has good intentions, this is what happens when mutual thirst gets suppressed for years of friendship
— words; 6.6k
— author’s note; i have no idea why but this fic was so fucking hard to put down into words??? I felt mentally constipated the entire time but it’s finally here
Taehyung wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when you called him at almost two in the morning, complaining about your newest nightmarish date and practically begging to come over. Like the good friend that he was, he made sure to tell you that you would be more than welcome to join him in his newest documentary marathon about aliens, and wondered if you could bring him some takeout on your way over there. Like the bad friend that you were, you said no.
To be fair, the nearest takeout place was across the city from his apartment (about thirty minutes away and in a bad neighborhood), and you were already having a horrible night as it was. Besides, you refused to take part in Taehyung’s search for a high blood pressure and cholesterol levels, arguing that it wasn’t the right time to stuff his face full of hypercaloric noodles.
But you did pity him enough to comply with his second request: a big pot of vanilla ice cream, which you were sure you’d end up consuming too. You were in a crisis.
As if to prove that the gods above were laughing at you, during the walk of shame to Taehyung’s apartment, it had started to rain (because of course it did), and your umbrella was only able to save you from the shoulders up before it crumbled and flew away from your gasp, rolling on the asphalt like a ball of dirt in a Wild West movie. By the time that you dragged yourself to his front door, you were completely soaked (and not in the way you had planned for that night to end), and about to break down crying.
Taehyung, like the angel that he was, helped you with your heavy coat and talked you into taking a warm shower before you got sick. He took the supermarket bag from you (where the ice cream had probably already melted) and walked you to this bathroom, excusing himself so he could grab you some dry clothes — and you only saw the ones he had picked when you got out of the shower.
With a silly smile dancing on your lips, you fumbled with the black booty shorts that Taehyung had jokingly gifted you that past Christmas — one that read “daddy’s juicy butt” in big, bold, neon pink letters over your ass — and then decided that your dignity was already dead by that point, so another kick wouldn’t hurt. Taehyung had also given you one of his favorite band shirts, which he only revealed during desperate times.
Your heart melted with the thought of your best friend trying to comfort you, and pulled the fabric close to your face so you could take a deep inhale, drowning in his scent. It smelled of that stupid cologne that Taehyung had used ever since he hit puberty, and a bit of fabric softener.
The two of you had an extremely close friendship, to the point that it got kind of strange at times. Ever since childhood, it was joked that you and Taehyung had been long lost soulmates — doing everything together, from going to school to laughing at the same exact jokes during movie marathons, often at the same moment and for the same amount of time. Before puberty hit (and the hormonal rage took over your first teenage years) you couldn’t remember disagreeing with him even once. You two had always been in sync.
But the uncomfortably close part only hit after you two went to college, and your anxiety for being a virgin in a sea of starving sharks got the best of you. After long conversations, you had managed to convince Taehyung to help you learn a thing or two about the art of naked wrestling.
Apparently it was weird to give your best friend a handjob and a blowjob for the sake of education. Go figure.
Regardless, your friendship wasn’t affected by any of that — even if you two had agreed to never mention any of it ever again — and you could always count on Taehyung to catch you when you fell.
Even if it was at two am on a Tuesday, after one of your nightmarish dates.
You threw yourself on the couch next to him, hugging your knees against your chest to form a barrier between you and the divine providence that had taken you to that point. You had half-assedly dried your hair, but pools of wetness had started to build on the back of Taehyung’s shirt.
Instead of accusing you of ruining his favorite piece of clothing, Taehyung reached for the remote and paused his documentary just as the narrator was starting to explain how hieroglyphs were actually part of an alien language. “Just tell me how bad it was,” he said, a mustache of ice cream melting over his top lip.
You took a peek at the bowl of melting vanilla on his center table, and decided that you would probably pass the desert for the night.
You glanced at him sideways, voice coming out monotone. “You sure you want to go down that path?”
Taehyung licked his sweet mustache off and nodded, clearly intrigued. “Yeah, hit me with it. You look like you need all the help that you can find.”
You sighed, turning around on the couch so you were facing him — legs still against your chest. “Okay so… I went to his place...”
“Yes…”
“And... we had dinner, talked for a bit.”
“How was the talk?” He asked.
You shook your head, trying to kill the memories inside. “He didn’t let me say a word. He just went on and on about this new website he’s working on, and how expensive his wine glasses were.” You scoffed, angry at yourself for ignoring the clear red flags of an arrogant douchebag. That was what the desperate need for immediate human connection could do to someone, you thought. “Apparently it’s supposed to be the next Facebook or something. Or twitter. I honestly wasn’t paying much attention.”
He chuckled. “Starting off strong.”
“That wasn’t even the main issue,” you said, lowering your forehead so it was touching your knees. You just wanted the world to end at that moment, so you wouldn’t have to go through those experiences again. “After that, we sat on his couch and started watching a movie. And you know how that goes, we started kissing, he pushed me down and got on top of me…”
“And?” He instigated.
With a sigh, you raised your head, meeting your friend’s gaze. Taehyung thought he had never seen you look so dead inside. And he had seen a lot from you. “And he humped like… my lower abdomen for about three minutes and came in his pants.”
Taehyung cringed visibly, taking one hand to cover his mouth. “Oh, man. That’s bad.”
You nodded, strangely relieved at his reaction. Part of you was worried that you were the evil witch in that scenario, that maybe you had done something wrong. “The worst,” you agreed. “Wanna know what else?”
“What? There’s more?”
“He didn’t even ask me if I was satisfied with whatever the hell that was.” You told him, bitterness dripping from your tongue. In the grand scheme of things, that was something silly to get mad over, but the fact that your date didn’t even have the guts to ask if you had gotten something out of that was ridiculous. “Not that I could possibly be. But it’s like he didn’t care and I was just a pillow for him to hump like a… sexually repressed religious teen, I don’t know.”
Taehyung only nodded, realizing that there wasn’t much that he could say to fix the situation. “Was he a good kisser at least?”
You sneered. “I think he was trying to crush my face with his.” You glanced at your friend, only half of his face bathed by the yellow and orange shades coming from the television. Maybe a documentary about ancient history and alien expeditions wouldn’t be so bad. Worst case scenario, it would knock you out, and you wouldn’t have to think about that mess anytime soon. “Also, too much tongue, just… the amount of saliva…”
“Got it. You can stop there.” Taehyung raised one hand, his eyes closing for a second. His palm lowered and met one of your knees, standing there in a silent attempt at consolation. “I’m sorry about your terrible date experience, dude.”
“If you could even call it that.” You ran one hand through your hair, suddenly overtaken by a wave of anger. “God! I was just… so… ugh! Like… ughhhh!!”
Taehyung, bless his heart, sometimes couldn’t understand the random neanderthal sounds you threw his way. “So... what?”
At last, your makeshift protection came crumbling down, and you collapsed on the couch dramatically, legs dangling off the edge. Taehyung thought that you were being possessed for exactly two seconds before you started talking again. “I did a full body shave for this night, Taehyung. Do you realize what that means?” His lips fell open, but, before he had the chance to answer, you continued. “It means that I really wanted to get railed tonight. Actually, I wanted to find a guy who actually knew what he was doing for once in my life.”
Taehyung chuckled, trying to disperse the tension in the room. “Come on, the dating pool can’t be that bad.”
“Oh, it’s bad,” you said.
He wasn’t giving up that fast. “How bad?”
You raised your head to look him dead in the eyes, a silent threat, before finally uttering, “Try no-man-has-ever-made-me-cum bad,” and crashing your head back against the sofa.
If you weren’t so hyper-focused on your own sexual melodrama, you would have noticed the thick silence that fell between the two of you, Taehyung’s face contorting into fifty different emotions within a few seconds. He thought that he had heard it all — from the secrets hidden in Machu Picchu to the obvious extraterrestrial influence on earthy religion — but no amount of bad documentaries could ever prepare him for that revelation. That didn’t make any sense.
“Wait. Seriously?” He finally found his voice and managed to push his doubt out of his throat. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”
You chuckled, humorless. “Oh no, I’ve had plenty of those. Just not from another person.”
“How’s that possible?” he asked.
“I ask myself that every single day.” You sighed, forcing yourself to sit back up. Taehyung was staring at you like you had just grown two extra arms, and you wondered what an amazing sex life he must’ve had for that confession to get him so confused. “Guess I’m just really bad at picking partners, who knows.”
There was a soft grunt on your throat as you fixed your position on the couch, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of your entire day piling up at once. Your gaze mindlessly traveled to the TV — a big plasma monstrosity that Taehyung had bought compulsively during a Black Friday sale — looking at a white-bearded man pointing maniacally towards a specific, round-shaped hieroglyph. You didn’t even need to hit play to know that he was making it seem like it was an UFO, but curiosity got the best of you.
“Can you pass me the remote?” You asked, pointing at the small device that laid beyond Taehyung’s body. “I kinda wanna see what—”
“I’ve made tons of girls have orgasms,” Taehyung interrupted, looking at you like he had just clicked out of a transe.
You laughed at his monotone voice. “I’m happy for you, Tae.” You leaned over his legs so you could finally reach the remote. “That wasn’t a jab at your masculinity, I’m sure you’re a very caring partner, and I’m sure there’s tons of guys out there that—”
“I can make you cum too, if you want.”
You had just grabbed the small piece of plastic when his sentence hit you like a smack in the face, making you drop the remote back on the couch, eyes widening. “You… what?”
He suddenly broke eye contact, taking one hand to massage the back of his neck. “Did that sound as creepy as I think it did?”
“A bit, yeah.” You forced out a light chuckle, trying to break the ice. There was no sign of mockery in his voice, and you didn’t know how to react. You could not say that the offer wasn’t tempting (you’d be lying if you claimed that you didn’t think Taehyung was attractive), but his proposal was so oddly-placed that it sounded like a joke. “What are you talking about?”
Taehyung sighed, turning his head to look at the television. “I just think it’s really unfair that no one has ever made you cum before.”
You smiled. “That’s very nice of you, but…”
“And I want to help you with that.” He looked back at you. Oh, he was being a hundred percent serious. There was no longer a single ounce of doubt in your mind. “We’re friends, it’s not gonna be weird. We’ve done similar stuff before.”
“We were a lot younger, though.” You didn’t know why your mouth suddenly felt so dry, your fight or flight response kicking at full strength. You could tell that Taehyung was also trying to convince himself about the strangeness of the situation. “It’s gonna be kind of weird, yeah.”
“Not if we don’t make it weird,” he threw back. Was it bad that you were actually considering it? Maybe it was the piled-up exhaustion combined with the years of sexual frustration, maybe you were finally out of your mind. But you were really considering it. “I don’t wanna pressure you, alright? Just making a friendly offer. If you don’t want it, that’s fine.”
You kind of wanted it, though. There was too much accumulated libido inside you from years and years of unsatisfying partners, and you trusted Taehyung with your entire heart. It sounded like a safe enough bet: if all went to shit and it got too awkward, you two could just stop, no hard feelings. Besides, you knew that Taehyung cared about you, which was more than you could say about all your dates in the past couple years.
And the more you stared at him, probably looking like a deer in the headlights, the more you grew soft under his presence. At once, you were hit with desires that you had never considered before: you wanted to kiss those soft lips, wanted to know how his large hands would feel around you. You really, really wanted to know how it was to have a good sexual experience with someone, and you couldn’t think of a better candidate than your best friend. Even if you still thought it could be seen as a little bit weird.
But you also kind of didn’t care.
You licked your lips, finally finding your voice after a long moment of silence. “How… how would you do it?”
Taehyung turned his head and looked at you, noticing the expectation in your eyes. “How would you want me to do it?” He asked.
You tried to think, but your mind was completely blank. What did you want him to do? What did you like? Suddenly you weren’t sure about anything anymore. “I don’t know,” you admitted, glancing down.
Taehyung smiled at your nervousness, one of his hands moving to your chin and tilting your head up. “How ‘bout I start by kissing you?” He questioned, gaze flickering to your parted lips. “Is that alright?”
There were no words in your throat, so you simply nodded, closing your eyes as he leaned in.
Taehyung’s mouth tasted of vanilla and you thought, even for a moment, that you were in paradise. The second that his tender lips met yours, your anxiety melted away, giving space to a newfound flame of desire. Taehyung kissed you softly, sensually, taking his time caressing your mouth and drowning in your heat. His hand moved to the back of your head, pressing you closer to him and leaning your head to the side so he could deepen the kiss.
He sighed heavily into your mouth when your tongues met, his other hand moving to hold your waist. The position on the couch was kind of awkward for kissing, with the two of you sitting side by side, so it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise when Taehyung tugged you onto his lap, making you straddle him.
The kiss was starting to get hungrier, messier, a small whimper dying in your mouth when his palms traveled down to cup your ass, pressing you down against his semi-hard cock. Taehyung sighed and groaned at the feeling of you on top of him, loving the way that your fingers played with his hair, your body so perfectly tight against his. If there was any hesitation before, it had completely vanished by that point.
It caught you off guard when he suddenly broke off the kiss to ask you, “Do you like any pet names?”
You blinked, taken aback. “Hm? What?”
He placed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You know, you want me to call you by something?”
You realized that Taehyung was really taking that personal service to a different level, and you couldn’t say that you were let down by it. If any of your past partners had the dignity to ask what you liked, you wouldn’t be in that position in the first place. “I… like being called ‘baby’,” you told him.
Taehyung smiled. “That’s cute. Baby it is.”
Before you had a chance to respond, Taehyung’s lips were back on yours, a dreamy sigh leaving his mouth as your tongues met once again. Only a few seconds passed before he shifted his weight to lay you down, never breaking the kiss as he positioned himself between your legs, hovering over you. Taehyung started trailing a path of kisses down your neck, his large hands slithering beneath your oversized shirt and caressing the skin of your stomach.
“Can I take this off?” He asked, tugging at your shirt.
You agreed and, within a heartbeat, that piece of clothing was already on the floor, and Taehyung was diving in to kiss the valley of your naked breasts. You moaned timidly when one of your nipples was wrapped by his lips, his tongue coming out to play with it. Taehyung’s other hand was occupied fondling your other breast, tugging and pressing down on it, and the sensations were taking over your mind.
“You have great tits,” Taehyung mumbled against your skin, switching to mouth your other nipple.
“I’m glad you like them,” you teased, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. You were letting out these cute little whimpers that were making him lose his mind. “Feels really good.”
“Yeah?” He asked, moving back to kiss his way up your neck. His tongue was hot and heavy as it danced on your skin, and you knew that those sucks he was giving you were surely gonna leave a few marks on your flesh. But you didn’t really care. “Gonna make you feel even better, baby.”
Your eyes fluttered shut at the pet name — it sounded heavenly when Taehyung used it with his deep, honeyed voice; his warm breath hitting your neck as he continued with his ministrations.
He kissed his way to your cheek, placing a small pec on your lips before saying, “Can you do something for me?”
You nodded. “What is it?”
Instead of responding right away, Taehyung’s gaze fell to your lips, and he was once again attacking them. That time, you weren’t able to hold back the whimper that you let out, your panties already glued against your core with how much he was turning you on.
One of his hands had trailed down your exposed abdomen, teasingly playing with the hem of your shorts. You held your breath when he tugged them down, bringing your underwear with it and throwing them somewhere in the living room. Taehyung grunted loudly when his fingers slipped past your folds, digging into your heat. His brain almost short-circuited because of how wet you were.
He broke the kiss and looked you deep in the eyes. “I want you to sit on my face, baby,” he said, and his request shot straight to your core. “Let me take care of you, okay?”
“Are you sure?” You asked. You had never done that before.
But Taehyung wasn’t sharing your reluctance. “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse and eyes darkened. “Wanna taste you so bad. Sit on my face, please.”
And you didn’t need any more convincing than that. Taehyung helped you get up from the couch so he could reposition himself on it, laying flat on his back and watching as you settled yourself above him, thighs on either side of his head. The couch was the exact size for that, a little smaller and you’d have one leg dangling off the edge.
Taehyung took his hands to your thighs, running them up to your hips. His eyes were focused on your pussy, and you never felt so exposed when he started pressing you down lightly, guiding you closer to his mouth.
You held the back of the couch for support and did as he requested, lowering yourself until Taehyung had you flat on his tongue. Your breath trembled and caught in your throat when he licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, humming around the taste before doing it again. Taehyung was an expert at erasing your worries because, with a few more licks, he had you fully losing yourself in his sinful ministrations.
It wasn’t long until you were whining out his name, your folds lazily dragging against his tongue as you started to grind on his face. “God, Taehyung!” You called out, hand coming down to tug at his hair. Taehyung grunted in satisfaction, the vibrations of his deep voice sending shockwaves through your pussy. “That’s… that’s really nice. You’re really good at this.”
He moaned in response, closing his eyes at your words. Taehyung was eating you out like his mouth was made for it, like he was starving for your taste and you were all that he could think about. He licked you from your entrance to your clit, playing with your sensitive spots and enjoying the tremors of pleasure that ran through your thighs, his hands locked tight around your hips. You sobbed and cried over him, making special effort to keep your legs steady as you rocked yourself on his tongue.
It was only when he decided to suck on your clit that you realized how absurdly close you were. You clenched your teeth and whined out, yanking his hair harder. “Do that again, please,” you asked and Taehyung, like the good friend that he was, was quick to comply. Taehyung wrapped his mouth around your clit in a way that had you trembling over him, licking and sucking on your sensitive nub like his life depended on it. “Fuck, that’s so good, Tae. Feels so good…”
He moaned again, more desperate this time, and some part of your mind understood the pattern that he was presenting you: Taehyung really, really liked your compliments. And you had no problem giving away any more of them.
“You’re licking me so well, Tae, you’re gonna make me cum like this,” you told him, meaning every word you said. Taehyung was a Greek god beneath you, staring up at you with those dark, focused eyes as if he dared you to cum on his tongue. “God! You’re so good for me.”
And then your praises ran thin, because your mind was gravitating somewhere else — seeking for the high that was dangerously close. It was only when Taehyung started toying with your entrance, brushing two of his fingers on it, that you came undone, crying out his name like it was a personal prayer.
There was a smirk on your mouth as you came down, a flooding relief that overtook you. You never thought that you could come so hard in your life, especially when it depended on another person, and you were so, so happy to be wrong that you could cry.
With shaky legs, you removed yourself from Taehyung’s face, straddling his lap and watching as his lips glistened with your arousal. His pink tongue came out to lick them, a hum on his throat as he took in your fucked-out expression.
“You did so well, baby,” he said, placing one of his hands on your waist. “Come here.”
Obedient, you leaned in and sighed as his mouth met yours. This time, Taehyung didn’t wait to eagerly insert his tongue inside your mouth, making you taste yourself on him.
He pulled away leisurely, his voice hoarse. “Can you taste how sweet you are?” He asked. “I loved making you cum on my tongue, baby. You looked so pretty.”
Taehyung breathed out, planting kisses on your neck, one hand trailing down to squeeze your ass. You whined at his tight grip and pressed yourself down on him, feeling his hard cock poking out against the fabric of his sweats.
Taehyung groaned at the stimulation, pressing down on your asscheek again. You rolled your hips on top of him, wincing in sensitivity as his member brushed your clit. “Loved your pussy so much, baby,” he continued, sounding like he was lost in a daydream, “I can’t wait to be inside you. Bet you’d be so tight for my cock, hm?”
“Yeah,” you managed to speak. Even if you had just reached your orgasm, you were still aching to feel something inside you. You wanted Taehyung more than you could understand. “I want you to fuck me, Tae, please.”
He breathed out, his hands tightening around your flesh as you rolled your pussy against his cock once again. Taehyung looked like he was one heartbeat away from completely losing his self control, and hearing you beg for him to fuck you wasn’t doing him any favors. “Gonna need to lie down for me, baby,” he asked.
With a few more shifts on the couch, Taehyung had you beneath him once again, your legs open for him as he removed his shirt and pants. It wasn’t long before his cock sprung free from its confinement, standing erect. You licked your lips at the lustful sight, pussy clenching in anticipation as you took him in — Taehyung was big. Bigger than anyone you’ve ever had, that’s for sure; long and thick and already leaking for you.
You would’ve cried out in need if he didn’t interrupt you. “What are you looking at?” Taehyung asked, the ghost of a smile creeping up on his lips.
Your stare oscillated toward his own. “That’s why you have such a good track record, your cock is huge.” You bit your lip, thinking about how good he would feel inside you. You didn’t know how it was possible, but you were pretty sure the last time you’ve seen his cock — back in the dark ages of your freshman year of college — it wasn’t as big as that. Or maybe you just didn’t have anything to compare it to.
“Hey, I just used my tongue on you, don’t ignore my efforts,” Taehyung teased, wrapping one of his hands around his member so he could pump himself a few times. The playful atmosphere swiftly shifted back, and, when he spoke up again, his voice was deeper. “You think you can take it?”
“Yeah, I can,” you said. You couldn’t be sure, but you were sure going to try.
Taehyung hummed, moving a bit closer so he could brush his tip against your pussy, coating it with your wetness. You closed your eyes in expectation, knowing that you’d love the stretch he would give you.
“You want it?” He asked, a touch of desperation covering his words. Taehyung was nearing his breaking point, and the fluttering of your pussy on his cock was making him go insane. “Want my cock inside your tight little cunt, baby?”
You nodded, frantic. The brushing of his thick tip on your hole was becoming too much, your walls clenching around nothing, seeking for something to fill you up. “Yes, fuck, I want it so bad.”
“Are you tight for me, baby?” He was trying to prolong that moment for as much as he could, keep the pretty face you made when you pleaded for him to fuck you burned in the back of his head. Making you cum once was a victory he would take forever, but making you cum around his cock might as well be his life’s biggest achievement. “Ready for me to fuck you?”
You cried out when he started pressing himself inside you, guiding his crown inside your pussy, then stopping. “Yes, Tae, just put it all in, please,” you whined, hands fumbling for support on his broad shoulders. Taehyung already had you clenching around nothing, you didn’t know what else he wanted from you. “Please, please, fuck me.”
Taehyung chuckled, looking down at where you two met. He was only human, and his self control was short lived. “Since you asked so nicely…”
Your back arched off the sofa as you felt the delicious drag of his large cock inside you, opening you up gradually, taking its time before filling you up to the brim. You gasped and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling, nails digging on the skin of his back as Taehyung groaned besides your ear.
“Fuck, that’s so good.” He let out a shaky breath, and you swore you never heard his voice get so husky before. “I just slipped right in. You’re so fucking wet.”
Your mind was an apocalypse of confused thoughts and forgotten exclamations, eyes fluttering shut as you dove into the sensation of Taehyung inside you — his hips angling backwards, tilting up just enough so he could move himself away from you core, only to come slamming back inside. The stretch of his cock was amazing, it was making you drunk, and all that you could think about was how much pleasure it was giving you.
“So-So big—“ you muttered, half aware that the words actually left your lips.
“How do you like it, uh?” Taehyung asked, his voice dripping sin and hunger. You could tell that he, too, was getting carried away by the feeling, his hips rutting themselves against you at a lazy pace. “Gonna give it to you any way you want it, baby.”
You bit your lip, a small moan leaving your mouth when Taehyung leaned closer to you, distributing hot kisses on your neck. You swore you’d be happy if you died then. “I like it rough,” you answered.
He groaned, apparently satisfied with your response. “Whatever you want.”
Taehyung got to his knees on the couch, deciding to put one foot on the ground for support, his hands raising your hips to help him reach even deeper inside you. Faster than your brain could compute, the shallow, lazy pace he had sat was being replaced with a harsh, fast pumping that made you cry out his name, eyes closing in sheer bliss.
“Tae! Yes, yes, just like that,” you sobbed, running one hand through your hair. You felt like your body was floating, every cell of your body overheating with the amazing pleasure that Taehyung was giving you. You never had someone fucking you so hard, his cock pistoning inside you, your body bobbing up and down on the couch.
Taehyung’s eyes were glued to the bouncing of your breasts as he continued to fuck you, a deep groan leaving his chest. “That’s it, take it,” he moaned out, quickening his pace even more. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth opening in a silent scream. “Gonna make you cum so hard around my cock, baby. Gonna fuck you until you cry. Want that?”
“Yes, yes, please,” you moaned. “Feels so good, Tae.”
“You like my cock, baby? Like it filling you up?” He asked and you could only nod pathetically, your entire body too fucked out to even respond. “F-fuck, your pussy is so good. Tell me that you love my cock.”
“I love your cock,” you whined, feeling like a complete hot mess under his thrusts. “I — fuck! — I love your cock so much, Tae, it’s so big.”
Your words motivated him to fuck you even harder, his member hitting even deeper inside you. Taehyung was getting lost in the stretch of your pussy around him, the glorious sounds you were making, the lust that coated your face every time you called out his name.
“Shit, I don’t know how anyone could look at you like this and not want to see that pretty face cum.” He was breathing out hard, grunting every time your cunt tightened around him. Taehyung wanted to see you like that forever, taking his cock like a good girl, creaming all over him and begging to do it again. You were wrapping around him so perfectly, taking all of him so well, that he didn’t think he’d manage to move on from that anytime soon. “So fucking hot.”
Taehyung chased after your high like a starving man looking for food, experimentally changing the angle and force of his thrusts to see what would get the best reaction out of you. At last, after a pathetically loud cry from your part after he raised your legs up, it seemed as if he had found it. “I bet you’d be so tight cumming around my cock, baby,” he was thinking out loud at that point, trying to make sense of the pretty sounds and expressions you were giving him so eagerly. He wanted nothing more than to see you cum — it was personal at that point. “I wanna feel you cum around me, baby. Wanna feel it so bad.”
“I’m c-close.” Your nails dug into his shoulders, eyes closing tightly. There was a light heat in your cheeks and sweat on your forehead that was making Taehyung wonder if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “You’re so good, T-Tae, you’re fucking me so well…”
Taehyung thought that he could cum right then and there, pushed over the edge with those sweet words alone. He loved being good to you, loved making you feel things that no one else managed to before. He was intoxicated by that sense of superiority, drowning in your praise. He wished that he could fuck you forever.
“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he pushed you on, his words hanging somewhere between an order and a breathless plea. You were getting so tight around him that it was making him crazy, your wetness coating his cock and dripping down between your legs like his own personal brand of aphrodisiac. “You can do it, come on. I wanna see you cum so bad.”
You smiled at him, a cute, fucked-out smirk that made Taehyung go to heaven and back. “So good for me, Tae, you’re so big,” you said, your voice so needy and high-pitched. Your orgasm was looming over you, pressing down on your lower body and making you see stars. It was only a matter of time before Taehyung got you crying out his name, back arching off the couch and mouth falling open in delirium. “Tae! Fuck! Don’t stop, please, I’m gonna—“
But your warning came a second too late, because you were already spasming around his length, body shaking as Taehyung thrusted hard inside you. Just as expected, you were absolutely fucking gorgeous when you came — all quivering lips and rolling eyes —, and Taehyung was beyond satisfied to know that he was the only one who saw that pretty face of yours.
“That’s it, baby, fuck.” Taehyung was starting to feel his own high approaching, called by the delicious tightening and releasing of your pussy around him. His thrusts were messy and harsh; his sweaty hair falling over his eyes like a cascade. “Can I cum inside you, baby? Can I fuck you full of my cum?”
You noticed the desperation in his tone and, with the throbbing of his member inside you, you knew that he wasn’t far. “Yes, please,” you said. “You were so good for me, Tae, you can cum wherever you want.”
And it was that final taste of praise that pushed Taehyung over his limit; waves upon waves of cum filling you up as he rode out his high. “God— fuck!” He cried out, drunk on the feeling of your walls milking the last drops of cum out of his cock. A few lazy pumps later, and he was collapsing on top of you with a mumbled, “F-Fuck.”
There was an instant of silence after his orgasm, the quietude only filled by Taehyung’s heavy breathing. You took one hand to his head, caressing the strands as a smile blossomed on your lips. “Well, I believe you now,” you said playfully. “I’m sure you made a bunch of girls orgasm.”
Taehyung chuckled, breathless. “Thank you, I try,” he said, looking up at you. The darkness in his gaze was gone, and it was just your best friend staring back at you. “You alright?”
“I’m great,” you admitted. You never felt so good in your life. “You?”
“Fantastic, thanks for asking.” He leaned back so he could sit up, running one hand through his disheveled hair before saying, “I’m gonna grab you a towel, hang on.”
Taehyung left you for a couple minutes before coming back to clean you up, tenderly wiping away the mess you two had created. After he was done, he discarded the towel on the floor and crawled back to rest on your chest once again.
There was a comforting quietude that floated in the atmosphere, only filled by the muffled buzzing of his freezer and the vague sound of raindrops drumming on the window. You didn’t really know how to deal with that entire situation, didn’t know how things would stay between the two of you. But, at that point, you made the decision to keep those worries for the following morning and, instead, just enjoy his warmth radiating all around you.
The glorious silence, at last, was broken when Taehyung started mumbling against your breasts. “Hey, ___?” He called.
“Yeah?”
“How many dates have you been on?”
You hummed, thinking for a moment. “Ever?”
Taehyung made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I don’t know, like, this past year.”
“Uh… like… five or six? I think?” You answered, looking down to meet his gaze. You knew that wicked expression very well. “Why?”
He smiled. “Because we have a lot of shitty dates to make up for.”
#bts fic#bts smut#taehyung smut#taehyung fic#bts#taehyung#kim taehyung#taehyung x you#taehyung x reader#bts x you#bts x reader#reader insert#smut#au#taehyung au#bts au
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eternity. [zhongli/reader]
prompt: arranged marriage royalty au with zhongli, in which you are the child of the dendro archon, sent to marry the emperor of liyue.
pairing: emperor!zhongli/f!royalty!reader
word count: 3.8k
warnings: fluff, kissing scene (don’t tell my mom)
a/n: SUPER close to being gn!reader! i just couldn’t think of a gender-neutral term for empress, which is used twice in this story. otherwise, it’s completely gender-neutral if that sort of thing doesn’t bother you! there will be one of these for both diluc and childe too sometime close in the future!
additional note: i tried my best to respect the culture liyue is based off (chinese) by incorporating some small aspects of chinese culture (clothes + titles)! if any of these are done incorrectly, please please PLEASE let me know so i can fix it!
to say you were nervous to meet your future husband was an understatement. you were a child of the dendro archon, an heir of the monarchist nation of sumeru. third-in-line for the throne, you held no chance of inheriting the throne. so, upon your 200th birthday and years of studying to be a scholar, your parents decided that marrying you off to another kingdom was the best choice for your destiny.
you just hadn’t expected it to be the reclusive archon emperor of liyue.
upon your first meeting with him, you were shaken to the core. he was sharp on the edges, yet easy on the eyes. his gaze was intense, amber eyes holding a subdued ferocity within their depths. his figure briefly alluded to the hidden power that lies within him, an unusual form for a god of war. he towered over you in height, reminiscent of the mountain scenery you had witnessed upon your journey to liyue’s capital. despite your worries, you did your best to remain cordial and gave a standing bow in his direction upon first meeting him.
any intimidating impression you had of him shattered at that instant as a deep, yet kind laugh escaped his lips at your actions.
“please, there is no need to bow,” the geo archon explained. “we are to be equals, are we not?”
--
one thing you hadn’t expected was for the geo archon, zhongli, as he insisted you call him, to have your same affinity for reading. being raised in a nation of scholars meant that their royal heirs were expected to always have their noses in a book and, fortunately for you, you had been more than happy to do so. the geo archon’s palace, situated on the edge of liyue harbor, had a library that rivaled that of your motherland’s.
upon hearing from his service staff that you had taken a liking to the royal library, zhongli had made it a point to come and read with you. the first time he had done so, you were so enthralled by the pulp fiction romance novel you had picked up that you had failed to acknowledge his presence. rather than interrupting you, the geo archon had silently sat down on the plush armchair, distanced from yours by a coffee table, and opened up a book as well. you hadn’t noted the turning of his pages and, if not for a servant to interrupt your train of thought to set tea down on the table before you, you weren’t sure if you ever would have noticed.
“oh, pardon me, i did not request any t-” you stated while the sentence you were reading. however, the words died on your lips as you glanced up, realizing the emperor and the servant were now both sitting before you. “oh.”
the single word escaped your mouth before you could stop it, but, fortunately, zhongli interpreted it as what you meant it as: a statement of surprise, not one of disappointment. a soft amusement twinkled in his eyes at your widened eyes, you being clearly shaken by not having noticed him sitting before you. he turns and smiles at the nervous-looking staff member and allows the man to depart the scene, who quickly scurries off.
“i hope i am not intruding,” zhongli states, turning the book in his hands over and resting it on his lap, pages downward. he leans forward, gently grasps his teacup (black tea, you noted, looking at its contents) and stirs it with an ornate, white iron spoon, cor lapis embedded in its handle. “the tea was merely a precautionary gesture. if you do not wish to drink any, please do not feel obligated to.”
you feel a faint heat rise to your cheeks, embarrassed at the thought of seeming like you were ungrateful for his kind gesture. he likely just wanted the tea for himself and did not wish to be rude, you told yourself.
“i- it’s not that,” your voice stammers in a soft tone, worried about your noise level within the quiet aisles of the library. “i just did not wish to have the hardworking service staff unnecessarily cater to me for something i did not place an order for. however, i appreciate the gracious gesture and am no longer perturbed by the action, knowing that it was something you called for. i appreciate the hospitality.”
the brunette quirked an eyebrow upwards and hovered his lips above his golden-and-white teacup before blowing softly on the liquid. you noted the geo elemental insignia molded into the bottom of the mug, seeming to glow the same color as his eyes.
“is that so?” zhongli’s words had an aura of amusement interwoven into them, entertained by your dissertation-length explanation. you nodded, feeling your face burn with bashfulness, and quickly redirected your gaze to the book at hand.
“pardon my interruption, but what is the book you are reading? you seem to be quite enthralled by it.”
the book held an illustration of a shirtless man holding a fair maiden close to him in front of the ocean, about as cheesy as you could get for any book cover. you weren’t sure how you were going to survive this conversation.
“it’s called… um…” you trail off, speaking in an even quieter tone than before. “love on the sea of clouds.”
if zhongli’s eyes held a faint amusement within them before, the amber pools are now glistening with delight. a chuckle escapes his lips. “oh? that’s one of my favorites.”
---
zhongli managed to contradict nearly any expectation you held of his behavior before you had met him. like most royals, you had expected him to act in an uncouth, entitled manner, who placed self-indulgence before the care of others. now, as you sat next to him in a meeting with the qixing, you realized he placed the care of his nation first and foremost. your mind trailed off as you watched his amber eyes shift with every word he spoke, his eyebrows making the most subtle of movements as his lips parted and closed. of course you were paying attention to what he was saying! you definitely weren’t using this as a chance to burn his visage into your mind!
“what do you think, (y/n)?” zhongli asks, turning to look at you. despite the two of you having a rather different fundamental knowledge of the world, his having been cultivated from his experiences leading liyue, and yours having been crafted from the presence of sumerian scholars, zhongli deeply valued your input on issues affecting liyue. he cherished the unique perspective you could provide on the nation’s affairs. normally, you were more than happy to oblige and help. one day, you would be his right-hand, his equal, he had once told you, but for now, you were not yet married and still acclimating to becoming a liyuean royal.
but at this moment? you feel ice cold mortification trickling into your veins. your failure to pay attention was now catching up to you as zhongli and the rest of the qixing looked at you, anticipating your response.
“well,” you calmly stated, trying to gather your thoughts. “i believe that to be a good idea, but…” you glanced away, pretending to be lost in thought. “you also need to consider the changing societal expectations of liyueans before doing such a thing.”
the answer was pulled completely out of your ass, but the spritely yuheng, keqing, could not have been more thrilled at your words. she immediately launched into a lengthy diatribe of agreeance, using your words to help back up her point. oh, harbor management. that’s what they were talking about.
as you forced yourself to pay attention to keqing, rather than ogling your husband-to-be again, you noticed a slight smirk cross his face out of the corner of your eye. to any of the other qixing in the room, it would seem like zhongli was happy with your answer, but you knew better. he knew you had spaced off staring at him and had put you on the spot to fluster you. his eyes were glowing with the amusement you had come to be familiar with.
---
your wedding date is approaching when zhongli arrives at your chambers one morning, guards and servants cast aside. he’s dressed in an ornate golden-brown suit, adorned with silver accents and matching gloves. the outfit, while complex, is a change of pace from his usual robes and traditional liyuean attire, reminding you instead of a well-dressed businessman.
“hello,” he speaks, looking slightly nervous, as if he doesn’t know the words to say. “would you like to accompany me somewhere?”
zhongli waits patiently for you to get ready in the sitting area of your chambers. you elect for an outfit that reminds you of his -- something respectful, yet less extravagant than typical royal garments. you arrive back to zhongli, your presence snapping him out of his reverie. his worry-ladened expression softens at your arrival and he musters a soft smile before standing up and extending a hand to you.
“shall we?”
---
zhongli takes you to a secluded memorial within the palace gardens, one you wouldn’t have noticed unless it was pointed out to you. the entrance is obscured by a variety of hanging plants, meaning that only those who know of its presence are likely to find it. zhongli’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly as he pauses at the entrance, before stepping forward, guiding you behind him.
the memorial, protected from the sun with plant-interwoven latticework, provides a sanctuary of shade from the warm atmosphere of the otherwise outdoor gardens. through the holes created by gaps in the foliage of ivy and sturdy lattice wood, sunlight filters in, allowing the marble statue of the woman within to glow in the sunlight. she’s dressed in antique robes, the kind you recognize from museums and your studies of old cultures. a warm smile sits on her face and her irises, made of cor lapis, shine with a kindness and wisdom reminiscent of zhongli’s. her arms are outstretched and cupped, as if she’s offering something to whoever views her statue.
zhongli takes the initiative to place the blossom of one of the glaze lilies growing near her feet within her palms and he lets out a soft sigh.
“this is guizhong, my first wife,” he explains, sitting down on the stone bench by the entrance. crystalflies flutter around your heads, their typically skittish nature calmed by the presence of the statue. “forgive me if this is too strong, but i brought you here for a chance to meet her.”
“she’s beautiful,” you state, glancing from the statue to look at zhongli. he looks worried, as if he’s afraid you’ll lash out at him for such a gesture. “thank you.”
“‘thank you’?” zhongli echoes, confused. you smile at him.
“if she is important to you, she is important to me,” you give the hand that still holds yours a reassuring squeeze, and zhongli gives you a smile, a genuine smile, his expression painted with relief and gratitude towards your statement. “would you like to tell me about her?”
zhongli parts his lips, lets out a soft chuckle, clearly having worked himself up over how this conversation would go. “guizhong lived many millenia ago and was known as the goddess of dust…” he begins, and unlike certain conversations prior, you listen attentively to his words, the outside world is forgotten to the two of you as zhongli tells you all about the first empress of liyue.
---
zhongli takes you to his favorite restaurant in liyue harbor that evening. the typically bustling patio is devoid of any other people, aside from fellow workers. zhongli had first explained, when you sat down, that normally he doesn’t mind eating amongst his constituents and typically prefers to do so, but wished to focus solely on you this evening. you had stammered profusely upon him saying this and he simply gave you an innocent smile, but zhongli’s eyes revealed that he knew of the effect he had on you.
tonight was a special night in liyue. the castle grounds had opened for one of the biggest festivals, the yearly lantern festival, and zhongli had chosen to spend it with you in seclusion. he loved his people, but always had been a reclusive god, typically only appearing to most citizens at the rite of descension. however, he did have his moments, such as now, where he traversed amongst the common folk, while still maintaining an aura of distance. he always felt a disconnect from his people, saying they preferred to view him as a holy figure rather than a true emperor. you never failed to notice the glint of longing in his eyes when he spoke of the idea of being able to truly fit in with humanity.
but those thoughts had been cast away for a quiet evening as the two of you placed your orders, with zhongli ordering half the menu. you have yet to try most liyuean cuisine, what’s a better time than now? he had said upon your confusion. zhongli’s rationale was an impregnable defense.
zhongli smiles at you, his brilliant white teeth glinting in the soft light of the restaurant’s festive lanterns. as the two of you wait for your food, he takes your hand, resting on the table, and interlaces your fingers. your eyes widen briefly, but you give his hand a light, reassuring squeeze in return.
“you look beautiful tonight,” he says, gesturing to the traditional festival garments you had adorned yourself in. you had asked the liyuean royal stylist if she had any liyuean hanfu for you to wear and she had clapped her hands excitedly and told you she had been waiting for you to ask.
“are you saying i don’t look beautiful every day?” you tease, causing zhongli’s eyes to widen and eyebrows to raise. he immediately began to dispute your claim, but your sweetened laughter caused his argument to fall short as he smiled at your amusement, even if it had been at his expense.
“oh!” zhongli exclaimed after your laughter had died down. “i have something for you.” the idea of receiving another gift, after zhongli had taken the time to reserve the restaurant and spend the day with you, caused yet another wave of heat to rise to your face, something that seemed to be a frequent occurrence as you spent time with him. zhongli’s non-occupied gently slides a ring box across the table, and, for a split second, a brief flash of lightheadedness crosses over you, but you remain heavy. oh my archons.
your hand detangles itself from his and cradles the box as if its made of the most fragile materials, before carefully opening it. a gasp escapes your lips upon seeing the ring inside. crafted of a brilliant cut of noctilucuous jade, the ring is a long, winding ring that wraps around the finger several times and is in the shape of a dragon, two small, cor lapis eyes embedded on its head.
“this is your exuvia, no?” you ask, looking up at zhongli. “it’s magnificent. thank you” upon your words, zhongli looks away, bashful as he nods and softly smiles in response.
“i am aware that upon signing the wedding contract, rings are a customary exchange in sumeru, even if they are not a liyuean tradition,” zhongli confesses and you feel your heart melt a bit at his consideration for your homeland’s culture. “additionally…” he trails off, his cheeks flushing as he sees you situate the gift on your ring finger and gaze at it admirably.
“hmm?” you ask, glancing up upon realizing he trailed off. a nervous look passes over his eyes and you smile encouragingly.
“it’s also a… public display of our contract, to show that my heart is solely within your possession,” zhongli admits, his words soft. his hand fumbles for yours, returning to the interlocked nature they held earlier in your conversation. rather than looking away, however, zhongli gazes upon you with an intensity in his eyes that you’ve had yet to see. his eyes lock on yours and you are reminded, for the first time, that this man is a god of war. a ferocious honesty dances within the honeyed depths, imploring you to recognize the veracity of his words.
“your heart?” you echo, for rex lapis is a god of war, but you are no longer afraid of bloodshed.
“ah,” he breathes, “perhaps i have not elaborated enough. i am in love with you, my empress. the luminosity of your eyes outshine even the most radiant of geoculi, your intellect and ceaseless conviction in improving your wisdom lays even the most studious of scholars to shame, your heart fueled with the golden blood of the greatest of immortals, the kind whom dedicate their lives to those who do not have the luxury of forever, unlike the-” zhongli’s words are harshly interrupted as you stand up, fueled by an adrenaline rush. you rip your hand out of his and the emperor fears that he may have overstepped boundaries, having been too intense with his words and affections for you.
you assuage his panic as you swiftly move around the table that separates the two of you and cup his face in your hands, bending over to meld your lips upon his. the archon responds nearly immediately, his hand wrapping around your waist, ushering you to rest upon his lap, rather than be forced to lean over. your lips part and the archon deepens the kiss, his free hand reaching up to cradle your head, gently brushing against your hair, treating you as if you’re made of fine china.
when the two of you finally part, zhongli looks at you with an expression of fondness and adoration. you make a move to stand up, but zhongli’s arm tightens around your waist.
“stay,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “please.” his grip loosens, allowing you to make your escape if you wish, but instead you sit sideways on his lap, leaning in to rest your shoulder upon his chest, your head nestling into where his shoulder meets his neck. your hand once again interlaces with his free one and you feel his thumb swirl the ring around on your finger. as you look down at your hands, zhongli nudges you ever so slightly.
“look,” zhongly whispers, his lips upon your ear. you have to prevent yourself from shivering in response to the low vibrations. “the first lantern, lit for the empress.”
“is that a tradition?” you ask, surprised as you watch the first lantern fly high into the night sky above you. zhongli chuckles.
“i can see to it that such an action becomes a festival tradition, if you’d like,” zhongli offers sincerely and you give an airy giggle in response.
the night continues on and as you’re about to fall asleep to the sound of zhongli explaining the history of the liyuean lantern festival and the vibrations produced from his chest, the two of you are forced to part as the servers bring out your food. you sheepishly move back to your own seat, embarrassed to be caught in such a compromising, intimate position. however, zhongli looks the opposite, sending an unabashedly smug grin in your direction. as the geo archon tells you about each dish and their origins, your heart melts at the idea of realizing that you’ll spend forever with this man, waking up at each other’s side every day. upon this revelation, a question pops into your mind.
“zhongli,” you begin, making sure to tone your words with one of innocent inquisition, not accusation. “of every being in teyvat, you chose me. you’re the geo archon and emperor of the most economically prosperous nation, you could’ve had anyone. what made you agree to marry me?”
you await zhongli’s answer while munching on another jade parcel, your favorite dish of the night.
“oh,” zhongli responds, a bit startled that you asked such a question. “i was enthralled by your work published within the sumeru arcademia. your work on the historical and economic analysis on the inazuman tea industry was quite fascinating.”
you pause for a brief moment, before an uncharacteristic, raucous laughter escapes your lips. upon this, zhongli looks at you sheepishly and a bit confused.
“is such a thing peculiar to do?” he inquires, causing a break in your laughter to reassure him.
“yes, absolutely,” you confirm to your lover. “but i absolutely adore such a notion! tell me, what was about my financial prose that made you desire to bed me?”
upon your words, zhongli flushes a deep shade of scarlet, darker than what you’ve seen before. you decide it’s your new favorite color.
---
the date of your wedding arrives and your emotions are a far cry from the ones you experienced when you first stepped foot in the liyuean royal palace. the emperor, known to some as the fearsome god of war, to others as the strict morax, god of contracts, is now known to you by the sweet name of zhongli, a name reserved for you and you alone. rather than relishing in the bloodlust of the battlefield as he once did when he was much younger, rex lapis now desires your companionship and velvet touch.
when he was a much younger archon, he had not told the woman he loved his true emotions until it was too late. while they had ruled together, they had remained nothing more than friends due to his hestiance. but now, zhongli knew what he desired and was determined to let you know his affections before it was too late.
as you step foot into the palace chapel, all eyes are on you, but the only ones you care about are those of your lover, zhongli. you float down the aisle, captivating all onlookers in an outfit that fuses both the sumerian fashion of your past and the liyuean styles of your future. at the end of the aisle awaits your emperor, your lover, your husband, and the two of you will combine your two eternities into one. together, you will sign an eternal contract with the god of contracts, your first one with such a deity, yet your most important one.
with this thought in mind, you smile at your lover as you meet him at the altar, taking his hands in yours. with locked eyes, the two of you grin, ready to sign the contract of forever.
#i got carried away this was supposed to be just a scenario but emperor!zhongli has my heart#genshin impact x reader#zhongli x reader#genshin impact zhongli#zhongli#genshin impact#genshin impact scenarios#genshin impact fluff#*zhongli#*writing#*fic#*50 follower celebration
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A Second Encounter
Tsukiyama Shuu x male demon reader
Summary: The red-eyed demon thought little of the ghoul he encountered some weeks ago, but that seemed to change when their paths met again. Maybe there was more to this than he believed?
Continuation of: The Man with Red Eyes
Demon AU
Given the positive feedback from the first part, I decided to add a second part to it. Please enjoy!
[Name] hummed softly as he walked around the room, cleaning the place up a little and getting any bloodstains cleared up before they would stain properly. Hunting was much easier outside, it didn’t matter how messy it was as long as you didn’t get too much on yourself. But in a house? That was different. He couldn’t keep using the excuse of accidentally cutting himself when he has the carpet cleaned.
While he could have had his servants clean up, he preferred to do so himself. It was enjoyable for him, giving him the peace of mind of knowing he did a good job to live in a nice, clean house. As he placed the books on the shelves, he noticed a title of one. “The Gourmet's Recipes” A book more for show than anything. The Gourmet. Was that not the name of that ghoul he bumped into some weeks ago? The purple haired one? A flash of purple flashed his mind, belonging to both the hair and the kagune of the ghoul. The strength he felt pulsing through that kagune of his. His alluring scent.
It was an interesting encounter, [Name] could not deny that. But his anger had simmered down by that point after dealing with the foolish demon who had caused him enough trouble as it was, he had no desire to kill a ghoul who wasn’t worthy of a death by his hand. And so had spared the ghoul generously, something he did not do often, be them ghoul or demon, he did not fear either. He has faced against chimera kagune ghouls and walked away the victor; battled against S ranking ghouls who sought to feast upon his flesh and remained the last one standing. [Name] did not fear anything.
“Anteiku.” The [Hair coloured] demon spoke, reading the sign that hung above the coffee shop. With heavy clouds filling the sky, he had little concern of the sun, and decided to go shopping when he noticed the coffee shop. The heavy scent of ghouls poured out of this coffee shop stronger than the coffee beans, blocking the aroma out like smoke. Unbothered, he entered the coffee shop, his own scent catching the attention of every single ghoul in the shop. One, two, three... five he counted. All workers. He approached the counter, taking note of the purple haired woman’s look she gave him, wary.
“I would like a simple black coffee. No milk, no sugar, please.” He told her, listening to the others around him. Demons and ghouls wouldn’t risk fighting in the daylight, and the fact that one like him was out at this time was clearly unsettling for them. His crimson eyes paled, appearing a pinkish colour with round pupils instead of their true slitted way. Touka -as her nametag said- only narrowed her eye a little but made no attempt to start something.
“Sure thing.” He paid for his coffee and sat down in the corner of the shop, pulling out a book and enjoying the atmosphere. The auburn haired male with glasses seemed very wary of [Name]’s presence in the coffee shop.
“Do you need anything?” He asked him, Nishiki -again, the nametag said- glared lightly at him. Wariness in his posture but more along the lines of how a predator would be to another predator in its territory. Not sure if it was wise to try and start anything.
“Nothing, but you better not try anything. Got it?”
“Of course. I have got better things to do than entertain ghouls.”
Before anything else could happen, the soft chime of the bell rung out as the door opened and closed, a familiar scent cutting through the air for [Name].
“Bonjour, mes amies.” Shuu smiled as he looked at the employees of the café, a bright shade of crimson among the pale white and grey uniforms. Though the moment his eyes caught sight of the dark suited male in the corner, his smirk grew. [Name] attempted to ignore him by focusing on his book but that was made impossible as the seat in front of him moved and Shuu sat there.
“Well, well, isn’t this a surprise?” [Name] didn’t bother to lower his book, a part of him hoping the Gourmet would go away if he didn’t give a response, but that was very unlikely. “Finding you wandering about in the daylight like this, isn’t it dangerous for someone like you?”
“Not when the weather is this cloudy and dim.” Throwing him a glance, [Name] didn’t lower his book. Of all cafes, he had to have come to this one. Fate vexes him so. “What do you want?”
“Oh, mon démon, can I simply not admire you as a creature? After all, you left quite an impression on me when we last met.” Curiosity flickered within him, pulling his gaze away from his book and into the lavender eyes of the ghoul. “Oh, how rude of me. You don’t even know my name. Allow me to introduce myself,” he spoke, “I’m Tsukiyama Shuu.”
“You already know my name, Tsukiyama.” Now he had another name to place for this indigo haired ghoul. For some reason, he doubted Shuu forgot his name, not with how quickly he recognised him from the moment he stepped into this café.
“Of course! How could I forget someone as unique as you? You insult me by even thinking such things.” Is that so? That is the thing that insults him? [Name] finished his coffee and set his cup aside, putting the book back in its bag after saving the page. “Oh, leaving so soon? A pity. I was hoping to get to know you better.” The slight playfulness that glimmered in Shuu’s lavender eyes mirrored in his smile, catching [Name] by surprise a little.
Perhaps he could entertain himself with the ghoul? It had been a while since he enjoyed something, and he was getting bored.
“Fine then. I don’t see the harm.” He stood and grabbed his bag, “Come on then.” Shuu smiled and followed after him out the café.
“... You reckon he’s gonna get eaten?” Nishiki asked when they left, glancing at Touka.
“Very likely. He’d probably like it.”
#tsukiyama#tokyo ghoul#tsukiyama x reader#shuu tsukiyama#tsukiyama shuu#tsukiyama shuu x reader#shuu tsukiyama x reader#shuu tsukiyama x male reader#tokyo ghoul x reader#tokyo ghoul x male reader#male reader#demon reader#demon au
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Eye For Detail (Daryl Dixon/Reader)
Sequel to Sketchbook Confessions
Summary: You try to sketch Daryl in return. Except, you draw his smile a little crooked, and the eyes are wonky... And Daryl completely loves it.
Words: 2490
Warnings: Language.
The courtyard was still and quiet, free from the dinner-time rowdiness going on behind prison walls. Well, it was almost quiet; Daryl's scribbling over paper sounded out faintly beside you, as you watched him work. At first, he'd been opposed to the idea of company, but after a while it has become almost like a weekly tradition - in which you'd both bask in the comfortable silence together. You'd even started to bring your own notepad, in your attempts to learn how to sketch from the man.
At first, your drawings were anything but good. Sometimes, even you couldn't tell whether you'd drawn a landscape or a strange, abstract fruit bowl. Yet, Daryl was a good teacher. Where he lacked patience normally, it seemed like he had ample to spare with you. He'd shown you how to use the different charcoals, and had even come back with more art supplies after his latest run.
It was coming up to dusk, and the sky was a brilliant mix of blue and grey hues. There were clouds gathering overhead, too, and you wondered whether there was a storm brewing behind them. Your notepad remained closed over your lap, since you still hadn't gathered the confidence to open it yet. Daryl hadn't noticed, however - too absorbed in his own work to pick up on the way you tentatively thumbed over the spine of your book.
"I tried to draw a person the other day," you finally admitted, "I don't know how you do it."
Daryl stopped what he was doing, rubbing circular motions over the paper to try and blend out his charcoal lines. He looked over at you, and you laughed gently at the black fingerprints littering his cheeks.
"Who was it?" he mumbled, eyeing you as you gathered your sleeve over your hand.
You shuffled over to the man slightly, and used the material to wipe away the charcoal stains over his skin, feeling him squirm slightly beneath your touch as you did so.
"It was you," you told him, and finally he kept still.
His stare bore into you, and suddenly it felt as though you'd been set on fire. You regretted the words as they came out of your mouth, and edged away from Daryl as soon as you'd finished cleaning him up.
You cleared your throat, trying to think of an excuse you knew he wouldn't believe. You sighed, knowing it was no use.
"Well, it was a poor attempt at Daryl," you confessed, glancing down at your sketchbook sheepishly. "Maybe a Darren at best."
You'd expected him to laugh at your joke, but he didn't. Instead, he seemed intrigued. He closed his own notepad, and you worried about whether the charcoal would smudge.
"Show me." Daryl said softly, his eyes flickering over to your lap.
You bit your lip, wiping off the cover of your sketchbook before opening it.
"Don't laugh," you warned him, shaking your head slightly.
You didn't think that he would, but you suddenly felt self-conscious. You'd drawn the portrait in your cell a few nights ago when you couldn't sleep - with the page illuminated by soft lamp-light. You remembered the feeling of the linen sheets beneath you as you sprawled out over your mattress, trying your best to shade the stubborn parts. You had tried - really you had. Except, you'd discovered that art came more naturally to some than others.
"Your eyes are crooked, and I drew your nose too big." you grimaced, settling your gaze over the portrait as you inspected its faults. "I'm sorry."
In natural lighting, it looked a lot worse than you had remembered. You tried to snap the book closed, but Daryl's palm prevented you from doing so. He was silent, and you watched his eyes slowly trail over the paper, taking in all of the details.
"Fine, you can laugh," you exclaimed, overwhelmed by his lack of response. "Okay, just say something-"
"Can I keep this?" Daryl interrupted, glancing up to meet your eyes.
You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. It took a few seconds to comprehend his words, before you finally shook your head a little too quickly.
"No!" you cried, trying to snatch the book from his grasp. "I can draw you a better one."
Daryl didn't give up his grip, and only shook his head back at you in return.
"Nah, I wan' this one."
Any argument you had bubbling up was quickly quelled when you caught sight of his expression. He seemed deadly serious, and you felt your own fingers loosen over the sketchpad as a result. The man slipped it away from you, and brought the book onto his own lap, continuing to look over it.
"But it's bad," you retorted, weakly.
You knew you had lost at this point. You had learned your stubbornness from Daryl himself, after all. The man never was one to know when to back down.
The courtyard seemed a lot darker than it had only a few minutes ago. The clouds had gathered to be more dense and thick, and blocked out the remaining light left over from the setting sun. It would be hard to keep drawing like this, you thought - yet, Daryl seemed more preoccupied now.
"E'eryone gotta start somewhere" he told you, "an' I don' want ya to throw it out."
You watched as he trailed his charcoal-stained, calloused fingers along the page - careful not to leave any marks over the pristine, white paper. Even your sketchbooks looked worlds apart from one another. Yours was neat, each drawing labelled, and your lines clean; Daryl's was a collection of blackened fingerprints alongside scrawled handwriting, and the occasional crumpled page.
"Shoulda seen my first drawings," Daryl went on, looking out towards the field, and at the forest behind it. "Merle found one when I was a kid an' told me it was a shit donkey."
You cocked your head to the side, listening to him.
"Was meant to be superman," he explained, with an expression far too serious for his words.
You snorted, and the man whipped his head over to scowl at you.
"I'm sorry-" you choked out, not missing the way his lips quivered as they fought back a smile of his own. "I must have swallowed a bug."
Not long after that, the feeling in your gut turned out to be right. The storm clouds had finished gathering, and soon the first droplet of rain landed over your paper - smudging the line you'd just drawn. You glanced over at Daryl, but before he'd even had time to reply, the downpour started. It went from a single raindrop to a raging storm in a matter of seconds, leaving you both scrambling to collect the strewn sheets of paper and charcoal pieces trembling over the ground. With your supplies bundled up in your arms, the two of you ran towards the cellblock - yelling through the sounds of the rain along the way.
Once you had reached Daryl's cell, you were soaked through. The man had dragged you there since it was closer, but it hardly made a difference. Your shirt was stuck to your skin, and you were left clutching soggy handfuls of paper - bleeding ink over Daryl's stone floor. He helped you set down the supplies onto his desk, gathering up whatever was salvageable, and throwing the rest away. Luckily, most of the pastels and charcoals had been kept safe, but a lot of loose sheets had been sacrificed to the greater good in the process.
You laughed, taking in the sight of the man. His hair stuck damply to his forehead, and you watched as stray droplets ran over his cheeks. He quickly glanced around the room and retrieved one of his shirts, before offering it to you. You took it from him and smiled, waiting for Daryl to turn his back on you before starting to change.
"Looks like the weather had other plans," you noted, pulling the dry shirt over your head. "At least it washed away that god awful drawing I did of you."
You untucked your hair from the collar, and smoothed out the material over your body. Behind you, you heard the sound of a zip, and peered over your shoulder to see Daryl taking off his own leather jacket. As he did so, you noticed that he'd been concealing something beneath it, and squinted to try and make out what it was.
"Looks jus' fine to me," the man mumbled, holding up the dry piece of paper for you to see.
You scoffed; he'd stuffed your drawing there to keep it safe. You couldn't prevent the smile spreading over your face as you looked at him in disbelief. He gave you a teasing smirk back, before setting the picture carefully onto his desk with the others.
"Y'know," Daryl said quietly, "s'a lot easier to draw from real life."
You glanced over at your drawing, knowing what he was getting at. You were acutely aware of its flaws, but you just didn't have the experience to know how to fix them yet.
"I know what you look like," you quipped back.
It was the truth. Perhaps you even knew a little too well.
"Mhm," he hummed back, before walking over to where you were standing.
You could tell from the tone of his voice that he didn't entirely believe you. One of the first things he'd taught you was that there could never truly be a good enough replacement for the real thing. Though, you had to disagree. You felt like you knew exactly how Daryl Dixon looked - you just couldn't translate it to paper.
The man stopped directly in front of you, so close that you could see his chest rising and falling. He lifted one hand slowly, tentatively even, so that you didn't get scared by his actions. Then, he hovered his palm gently over your eyelids, flicking them shut so that your world went dark.
"What colour are m'eyes?" he asked.
His hand was cold over your face, from where the rain had soaked his skin. You knew that he was trying to teach you a lesson, but you thought that perhaps you'd use the opportunity to teach him one back.
"Blue," you answered, without hesitation.
You desperately wanted to see the man's expression, but all you could do was imagine it.
"An' what-" Daryl continued, but you cut him off.
"A greyish blue," you went on, not entirely satisfied with your answer. "Like the colour of the sky before a storm."
Daryl removed his hand from over your eyes, but you kept them shut. Your fingertips brushed over the hem of his shirt that you were wearing, and you felt like you could picture the way it looked in your mind just from the texture of the material.
"Your hair is brown. The same shade as that desk near your bed," you told him, pointing in the direction you remembered it to be. "And it falls just above your neck, and is slightly curly at the ends." You laughed, considering your next words. "Especially just after you wash it."
Daryl remained silent, and you tried to picture the type of look he had in his eyes. You thought that perhaps you should stop, that you'd made your point clear - but you were in too deep to turn back now.
"And you have two moles," you said quietly - and wondered whether he had heard your voice tremble, too.
You reached out your hand slowly, trying to find the other man. Your palm made contact with his chest, and you let your fingertips trail up until you reached his neck, and then his face.
"One by your nose," you told him, resting your palm over his cheek, "and the other near your lip."
You tried to find it, but your thumb accidentally brushed over his lip, instead. Your heart jumped in your chest, and your eyes flickered open unintentionally.
"I'm sorry-" you blurted out, but the words tapered off as you noticed Daryl's stare.
The man stood perfectly still in front of you, letting your hand rest over his cold, damp skin. You quickly pulled away, glancing off to the side nervously. Though, the both of you knew that you'd gone too far to make any poor excuses now. You'd passed a boundary, but you couldn't say that you wanted to take a step back, either.
"Tha's one eye for detail ya got," Daryl said, after a few seconds had gone by.
You shook your head. "Only when it comes to you," you admitted.
Daryl looked off to the side, and then back, but you continued before he had the chance to interrupt.
"I know I'm not the best artist, but I wanted to show you how you look through my eyes, too."
Daryl raised his hand again, but this time it wasn't to block out your sight. Instead, he just rested his palm softly over your cheek - and despite how cold it was, you leant into his touch.
"Ya jus' did," he said, and gave you a small smile.
You could still hear the storm outside, as the occasional breeze whistled its way past the cracks of the cell block, or made the tree branches batter up against the windows. Sometimes, the draft even made those loose sheets flutter over the desk, in a kind of muffled, paper applause.
"Maybe I should just swap out pencils for words," you told the man. "They seem to do the job better."
He nodded in agreement, letting his hand drop back down to his side.
"Hey, Daryl?" you asked, but you already had his full attention.
"Mhm."
You decided to put your words into practice straight away, so that you wouldn't forget exactly how you felt in this moment.
"You mean a lot to me," you admitted, "in a way I don't think I'd ever be able to describe."
Daryl's eyes widened slightly, and you wished to have the talent to capture that expression with pencil and charcoal one day.
"But I still wanted to try," you finished, and waited for his response.
Except, Daryl wasn't a man of words - and he reminded you of that as he reached for his sketchbook. His fingers were still damp, and you watched as they left watery prints over the pages as he flicked through them. He finally stopped once he reached the last one, showing you his latest sketch.
It was stained with raindrops that hadn't dried yet, from where the storm had first broken out and Daryl hadn't reacted quick enough. Yet, even though it was a little smudged and wrinkled, you could still make out that it was you - from where you had been sitting right next to him in that courtyard.
The man set the book down so that the page remained open on his desk, and picked up the other loose-sheet drawing that you'd done of him - and placed them together.
"Me too," Daryl said.
And that was all you needed to hear.
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A/N AHH. I just loved this 2 part story.
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#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#twd#the walking dead#twd fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfiction#the walking dead fanfiction#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon imagine#twd imagines#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x oc#daryl x reader#daryl fanfiction#twd fanfic#twd drabbles#the walking dead imagines#daryl x you#daryl x y/n#daryl x oc#fanfiction#norman reedus#writers of tumblr#writeblr
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Why, this is such a lovely cafe! I’d like to speak with that cute barista over there. Hoseok, is it?
Hi, Hobi - can I call you that? Could I possibly ask for a meet cute at a clothing store? Maybe you help reader pick out an outfit? Thank you 😘
Sanguine Silks
StoreOwner!Hoseok x PersonalAssistant!Reader (f)
Word Count: 1k (ahahaha 🥴)
Genre: BuisnessOwner!AU, WeddingDate!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff 🌸
Your chosen barista: Hoseok ☀️
“You may absolutely call me that! I’m so sorry your order is a bit late, but I assure you, it’s tasty enough to be worth the wait sweetness. Please let me know if you need anything else, I’m more than willing to get you whatever you desire.“
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What am I even doing…” You know you need something expensive and long, that’s about it though. The dresses you look between are fine, but neither one of them are really doing it for you. They’re two among a sea, and things are starting to get overwhelming fast.
You had wandered into Blue Side earlier, a well known upscale clothing shop in the wealthier district of town. Having walked past it a few thousand times on your lunch break, it seemed like the best place to find a fashionable dress that would hopefully impress your boss enough for him to stay off your back. Stepping in had been easy enough, but it had also been easy to get lost in all the fabric and grandness of the store.
“They’re both lovely options but I think the blue would look stunning on you. However, my advice is completely unwarranted so feel free to ignore me.” It’s then you notice him, an insanely handsome man standing to your right looking thoughtful, pretty pink lips pursed. He’s dressed nicely, a tailored suit adorning his built frame, hair swept back from his forehead. A real looker if you’ve ever seen one.
“Really? I do think I like it a bit more… But I don’t really know. The colors great but the cut isn’t my favorite. I also have no idea what I’m looking for really, so that doesn’t help.” It really is a nice dress, but something tell you that you’ll look like a trash can in it, that it won’t be flattering at all. The man hums quietly before sticking out his hand toward you. Reaching your own out to shake it, you can’t help but notice how nice his hands are, how firm the shake is… How the rings he wears glint in the light. You note passively that there isn’t one on his ring finger.
“Hoseok Jung, owner of the store who occasionally helps out lovely customers who seem lost. If you follow me, I can show you a few more dresses in similar shades with different cuts.” Hoseok gestures for you to follow him, and not wanting to deny the pretty man, you do. He leads you across the store to another section with primarily darker styled clothing, pretty silks and chiffon cuts on display. You’re silently pleased with the new selection, more than willing to pick from any of these dresses.
“____, confused personal assistant who doesn’t know what type of dress to get for a wedding. I’m realizing now that might be sad to admit.” He gives you a kind smile either way, heart shaped and bright as he reaches for one of the dresses hanging on the wall. Glancing it over, he nods before handing it to you, allowing you to look it over more closely. It’s breathtaking, subtle ripples over the fabric, a nice cut on the bust line, and a daring slit on the side.
“The material is purely silk, which leaves it beautifully simple, not overly glamorous as to outshine the bride, if there is one that is.” It shimmers in the light, different shades of blue calling out to you like a beacon. It’s soft too as you run your fingers over it, Hoseok watching with a satisfied look on his face as you sigh.
“Mmh, there is. It’s my bosses wedding, black-tie no less, and I feel like I couldn’t say no to that so here we are. I’d never hear the end if I didn’t end up going.” Of course your boss would make it black tie, the man can never do things any less than extravagant. If you don’t look your best on any given day he can and will throw a hissy fit. Being a PA is a walking nightmare sometimes.
“Understandable, bosses don’t usually like to be told no after all. One of my employees who’s also a close friend refused to go to Disneyland with me last week and I just about cried. I was all set to go this weekend but alas.” His tone is light, joking even as you giggle, clutching the dress in your hands. Hoseok holds out his arms for it and you give it back, watching as he slides it over his arms. You can’t tell really, but they look muscular, and you just know he’d look good holding other things in them.
“You have hearts in your eyes, so I’m assuming this is the one you’d like? Not to say that I’m good, but I do usually have an eye for things like this.” Snapping out of it, you nod and can feel yourself heat up a bit at being called out. It’s reassuring though, having his attention on you when you can’t help but put all of yours on him.
“I’d go on a trip with you if you were my boss! You seem like you’d be a good time… Like, to be around that is!” A pause then as he raises a perfectly arched brow, eyes glimmering in the dim light of the corner you stand in. You hadn’t meant it that way, but maybe you actually had because wow he looks like he kind of wants to eat you.
“A good time hm? I’ll warn you, I tend to get sick on the teacups but the adrenaline always makes me want to go again. I’m insatiable to be quite honest.” He licks his lips lightly, gaze fully trained on you as you blink back. Handsome and funny, a perfect mixture in your book. It’s a long shot, but maybe…
“Actually… This is going to sound really desperate and maybe weird but I could use a plus one to the wedding… And if you’re free this weekend maybe you would like to come? There won’t be any teacups, but…” Hoseok’s eyes light up, both with surprise and maybe something else. Your stomach flitters at the chuckle that leaves him, deep but not unkind in the slightest.
“I’d love to, especially since I was going to ask for your number anyway since I think you’re adorable. Now, let’s get your pretty self checked out and we can talk details.”
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(Dress I used for inspo!!!)
#bangtan cafe weekend ❤️#hoseok x you#hoseok x reader#hoseok imagine#hoseok drabble#hoseok fluff#bts x you#bts x reader#bts fluff#bts imagine#bts drabble#bts
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popsicle -
eren’s masterlist:
note | edited and reposted
warning | alcohol usage mentioned, nsfw, cursing, fingering, do not read if too young
category | fluff/smut
wc | 4.6k+
pairing | eren jeager & f!reader
You’re sitting next to Reiner, who is currently eyeing the different girls in the pool, trying to decide who he was going to charm his way into and ask out next. You sigh, shaking your head at his antics. Typical. Slightly nudging Reiner with your elbow, you pull his gaze off of the girls in the pool. “Hey Reiner.” He hums in response, turning to look at you. “I’m going to go get a drink. I’ll be right back.”
He nods his head, and with that you stand up and walk over to the outside bar. Walking up to the man working the bar, you take a seat on one of the stools. “Can I have a piña colada? Virgin please.”
“Sure, no thing.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll have the same thing she’s having.” Looking at the source of the voice, you see a tall, tanned skinned guy with long brown hair tied up in a messy bun walking up to the bar. He takes a seat a few stools away from you. You eye him up and down, taking in his appearance. Starting from the top, you notice his hair is slightly damp, wet strands of hair falling to the sides of his face, framing his structure. He must have been in the pool not long ago. Moving down to his chest, you immediately take notice of his beautiful and sculpted abs.
Damn he’s hot. Eyes moving even lower, you come across his grey shorts, eyeing a noticeable bulge in his pants.
Shit.
Your eyes linger for a little too long then they should have, leading the guy to notice your staring from his peripheral vision. He turns his face to look at you, an amused grin growing on his face. Cocking his head to the side, his mouth opens. “Like what you see?” You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. Realizing you were staring, you turn away in embarrassment, causing him to let out a low chuckle.
“Your drinks.” Thankfully saving you from the situation, the man working the bar slides both of you guys your drinks. You quickly grab it and take a sip, waddling away in your flip flops back to your spot next to Reiner. Feeling your presence next to him, he faces you. “Hey, you're back.”
“Yes I am.”
Looking down, you take a sip of your drink. Reiner playfully nudges you in the shoulder, noticing your distressed state. “What’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.” Ignoring his question, you look up and you see the same guy from the bar on the other side of the pool, talking with a black haired girl and a shorter blonde haired boy boy. Letting your curiosity get the best of you, you decide to ask Reiner a question. “Hey Reiner, who is that?” You motion your chin to the brown haired boy. Reiner looks forward, a look of confusion falling on his face.
“Who is who?”
“The sexy guy on the other side talking to two people.” Laughing at your choice of words, Reiner sees who you’re talking about. “Oh him? That’s Eren Jaeger.”
“Eren Jaeger...” You let the name fall out of your lips, sounding it out for yourself.
Not letting you get away with your words so easily, Reiner plays with you. “So you think he’s sexy?”
“Oh, shut up. I just had an encounter with him at the bar.”
“Well you’re not wrong, he is sexy.” Laughing, you take another sip of your piña colada. Reiner continues. “And he thinks you are too.”
Nearly choking on your drink, you snap your head at Reiner, a confused look on your face. “What do you mean he thinks I am too?”
“I meann that he’s my friend. We were talking earlier and he was telling me how he thought you were pretty cute actually.” Finding his claim too hard to believe, you shake your head. “You’re shitting me.”
“Nope. I’m for real. He’s obviously interested in you. He’s been eyeing you the whole time we were here. You’re just too dense to notice.” You shoved his hard chest, the force nearly knocking him into the pool.
“If I find out you’re lying, I’m killing you.” Laughing, Reiner shakes his head in amusement. “You know you should get with him. I heard he's really good with his fingers if you know what I mean.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, nudging your side a few times with his elbow. Nearly choking on your drink for the second time, you shake your head, bad memories starting to come back to you.
“No. I can’t.” Your voice quieting to a whisper, you talk so only he can hear you. “I haven’t been with anyone since the thing happened, remember?” Reiner nods his head in understanding, but he doesn’t stop there.
“Hey, don’t think about that, okay?” He sighs. “Exactly the reason you need to get with someone again. It’ll be good, trust me. And it won’t be that hard since he obviously wants to get with you too.” Shoving the terrible memories to the back of your head, you actually consider his statement. You look back to the other side of the pool searching for the brown headed boy, only to notice that he isn’t there. About to question where he is, you open your mouth to speak only to be interrupted by a light tap on your shoulder. You turn around, and to your surprise you see Eren standing tall behind you, eyes level with the very noticeable bulge in his grey shorts. Heat immediately rising to your cheeks, you turn away from the delicious view, stopping yourself before you stare again.
“Hey.” He looks down at you, drink still in his hand.
“Oh, hey again.”
He nods his head at Reiner in a greeting manner. “Hey Reiner.”
“Hello Eren.” Chuckling to himself, Reiner stands up, moving to walk away. Confusion spreads on your face. “Hey, where are you going!”
“Don’t worry. I’ll see you later.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you in a teasing manner, cupping his hands around his mouth and mouths, “Get some!” Laughing, he turns and walks away, but he halts besides Eren and leans into his ear, whispering something to him only the two of them can hear. Once he finishes, he walks away.
Suddenly growing nervous, you fidget with your fingers. Eren’s crouches down beside you, his eyes looking into yours. “Mind if I sit here?” Placing your drink to the other side, you shake your head. “No, not at all.” He takes a seat beside you, placing his own drink on the other side of him and dipping his own feet into the water too. Not being able to help yourself, you side eye him up and down once again. This time there’s black sunglasses on the top of his head, stopping his bangs from falling to his face. You not so secretly admire his bare chest and his body, not knowing Eren is admiring yours as well.
The sun is slowly setting before you, light shadows casting over the backyard, a cool breeze blowing in the air. Eren is the first one to talk.
“So, I haven’t seen you around before. Are you just moving here?” He turns to look at you, and the air is taken out of your lungs. God, his eyes, they're beautiful. A gorgeous shade of blue. No green. Turquoise? Either way, the sight is simply enough to melt everything else away. Eren’s question finally registering in your brain, you quickly snap yourself out of your daze, answering his question.
“No no not really, I just didn’t go out much during school. But now that summer is here I plan to get out more this time.” You can see his face light up in curiosity. “So I’ll be seeing more of you? He turns to the pool, nodding his head in satisfaction. “Good to know...”
“I guess you will.” A moment of silence falls before Eren opens his mouth again. “You aren’t going in the pool?
“Well actually,” You lower your head in slight embarrassment, “I don’t know how to swim.” Eren looks at you, a shocked look spread across his face. “You can’t swim?”
“Nope.” You say shaking your head, popping the p. His lips turn into a teasing grin. “Loser. Why go to a pool party if you can’t swim in the pool?” You look at him, your brain going into defensive mode. “Hey! Pool parties are fun. And you don’t actually have to go in the pool to have fun just so you know.”
“What if you get pushed into the pool?”
“Then I guess I’ll die a miserable death.” Laughing at your awfully morbid joke, Eren shakes his head. “I guess I’ll just have to protect you, huh.” Furrowing your eyebrows, you question what he means.
“What do you mean, you’ll just have to protec-” You are cut off by the sound of someone’s voice calling him. Both of you look over to the person. You see the same boy with blond hair that Eren was talking to earlier dramatically waving his hand over his head. “Hey Eren! Come on we’re about to start.” Eren sighs, nodding his head at the boy. “Coming!” He turns back to you.
“I guess I’ll talk to you later, non swimmer.” A brief look of disappointment falls on your face, but you quietly mask it with a smile, nodding your head.
You liked talking to him. He was like a breath of fresh air, despite literally being outside, even if he was making fun of you. Giving you a heartwarming smile, he picks up his drink and stands up, about to walk away, but then he leans in to your ear. “Oh, I never got your name.” His breath is hot, and it tickles your skin, sending cold tingles down your spine. You catch a whiff of the pina colada he had earlier in his breath. You told him your name, and he repeated it under his breath, sounding it out on his own lips. “Pretty.” The way your name came out of his lips sounded like music to your ears. “Mines Eren.”
With that he walks away, and almost as soon as Eren is out of your sight, Reiner returns to your side. “Hey, some of us are about to go inside to play a game, let’s go join them, and you can also meet some of my friends.” Sounding like a good idea to you, you nod your head and stand up from your position, leaving your pina colada. As you’re about to walk away, Reiner smirks, leaning in from the side into your ear.
“Wow, I bet you can’t wait till you two are in the bedroom.” Anger rising from the inside of you, you push Reiner again, this time actually pushing him into the pool.
Splash!
“Hey!” He flops around in the water, water splashing on you and all around. Erupting into a fit of laughter, you run away to get Reiner a towel to use as a peace offering before he can get out and push you in the pool too. You can’t be dying a miserable death this early.
------------
Side by side, you and Reiner walk into the living room. You are greeted by the sight of nine people sitting on the floor in a circle, a deck of playing cards in the middle. Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, Reiner moves to speak. “Hey guys! This is my friend.” He introduces you, and you smile at all of them, saying hi. You scan over the room, seeing all different types of people who look close to your age, and your eyes land on a certain brown haired boy in particular.
Eren.
Almost as if he can feel your staring, his turquoise eyes meet yours. You immediately rip your gaze away, moving closer to Reiner's side. He softly grabs your wrist, leading you both to a vacant spot in the circle. You end up sitting next to a blonde haired girl, who’s talking to someone else positioned on the other side of her. Turning to look at you, she introduces herself with a smile. “Hey, my name is Annie.”
“Oh, hey Annie.” You tell her your name. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.” She brings her attention back to the person she was talking to. Looking around once more, you see that you’re sitting almost directly across from Eren, his eyes already on you. Feeling a little uncomfortable, you desperately try to avoid his piercing gaze, looking to the ground and fidgeting with your fingers.
“Ok so guys!” The same average sized blonde haired boy that called Eren earlier clasps his hands together and begins talking. “We are going to be playing a card game called Screw Your Neighbor.” He looks around the room. “Do any of you guys not know how to play?” Remembering the familiar game since you played it at a previous party, you shake your head no along with everyone else.
He smiles a gorgeous smile. “Great, so let’s get started.” And the game begins.
------
For the first night of summer, you have more fun than you have had all year. A lot of that fun must be due to the fact you’ve had to drink a few times due to losing. But luckily, you’re not even close to drunk, as it takes a lot for you to just get wasted. But you are a little tipsy. And you also really aren't the best at card games, even if it’s just a game of pure luck.
Not paying attention to your surroundings much, you don’t notice Eren’s turquoise gaze on you while eating. By now almost everyone has a snack with them, and apparently Eren has the messiest one. You’ve been stealing glances at him all night, and when you look over at him, you see that he has a melting popsicle in his hand, the treat dripping down his wrist. He has some of the popsicle trickling down the sides of his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to pay any mind to it, and neither does anyone else. This must be normal for him to eat like an animal.
His pink tongue darts out of his mouth, the tip slowly licking the juice that got on the sides. Once again feeling your gaze like some psychotic person, Eren’s eyes meet yours, a mischievous glint twinkling in his eyes.
Eren’s going to have his fun with you.
Bringing the popsicle up to his mouth, he sticks it into his mouth, very slowly moving it all the way in. His tongue swirls around the popsicle, licking all the excess juice off, turquoise eyes never leaving yours. Eyes glued to Eren mouth fucking his popsicle, your head is telling you to look away, but you just can't. He is still shirtless, the melting popsicle trickling pink down his bare chest. He very slowly but surely takes a popsicle out of his mouth, sucking on every inch about to come out.
How the fuck has no one called him out.
He’s basically eye fucking you, turquoise eyes undressing you from across. Swiping his tongue around his mouth, he licks the melted popsicle from his lips. Heat rising to your cheeks, you decide that this is too much for you. You need a way to get out of this.
Standing up abruptly, you make your excuse. “Hey guys, can someone show me the bathroom?” Just finishing the popsicle, Eren immediately shoots up from his seat, not even wasting a moment for his chance. He gives you another mischievous smile, obviously planning something in his head. “Here, I’ll show you.” Looking to the side, you see Reiner shooting you a knowing smirk. Rolling your eyes at him, you hesitantly nod your head at Eren. He walks over to your side and leans in to your ear like before.
“Enjoy the show?” His voice is low and seductive, sweet breath tickling your skin.
Tha - thump.
Another throb down below. Oh Lord you just met this man and the things he’s already doing to you without even doing anything. Noticing your frozen state, Eren just laughs, shaking his head in amusement.
He knows what he’s doing.
“Follow me.” Eren walks in front of you and leads you into a hallway. He comes to a stop in front of the door, looking back at you. “It’s right in here.” He turns the handle and walks in, holding the door open for you. You walk into a bedroom that looks un-slept. The bed is neatly made, fluffy white sheets and white pillows, not a single item out of place. This must be the guest room.
Eren walks to another door, opening it and turning on a light switch. “Here.” He nudges his head towards the doorway. “Thank you.” Your voice comes on as a whisper, afraid that if it’s any louder it might just crack. He nods his head and steps out of the bathroom. “Welcome.”
You walk into the bathroom, mentally going through everything in your mind that just happened. What is this boy doing? Because if he’s trying to seduce you, hell, it's working. Reiner was right, it has been a while since you have received any pleasure at all. Maybe today was the day to continue. Start fresh. The past is the past. Breathing in and out, you muster up all the courage you have in you to go and make your move. You got this. Slowly turning the door handle, you open the door and walk back into the bedroom to see an Eren sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone. His face turns up to look at you once you enter the room.
“Hey. Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
Eren nods his head, slipping his phone into his pocket. He stands up, making his way over to you. You also walk closer to him, both of you closing the gap between your bodies, leaving some personal space. His eyes look into yours. “Are you ready to go now?” He tilts his head sideways. You take a step closer to Eren, causing him to raise up an eyebrow in curiousness. Suddenly becoming bold, you get right to the point.
“I kind of want to do something first.” He walks closer to you again, leaning his head down only inches away from yours. “What do you want to do?” You can smell the fruity popsicle in his breath, the scent delighting to your nose, only making you lean your face in closer to his. You sink your teeth into your lips, and his eyes flicker down to look at them.
“This.” Grabbing his face and pulling it closer to you, you attach your lips to his. He immediately kisses you back, lips molding against one another, but then he breaks away for a brief moment, holding your wrists, your hands still on his cheeks.
“How many drinks did you have?” Smiling, you shake your head. “Not much. I’m not drunk. Trust me.” Eren eyes you for a moment, and then he knows it’s true, afterall he can tell when someone is wasted.
“So it’s okay if I kiss you?” You nod your head. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Not wasting any time, Eren connects his lips with yours again, tilting his head to the side, deepening the kiss. He softly grabs your hands from your face, moving them to his shoulders. You then move your hands to wrap around his neck, pulling him down to you. His arms snake around your waist, pulling your flesh against his and letting you feel his abs pressing against your stomach. His big hands trail down your curves, stopping at your ass and squeezing, causing you to gasp against his lips.
Eren’s lips are soft and smooth. The kiss is nice and tender, bad memories from earlier disappearing from your mind. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, requesting for access to enter your mouth. You comply, opening your mouth and letting his tongue move in. His tongue darts around your mouth, licking everything in its path. His tongue finds yours, and his own swirls around it, the popsicle move coming into play. You fight him for access, moving your own tongue inside his mouth for your turn. You taste the fruity popsicle in his mouth, savoring the flavor.
Watermelon.
The kiss goes on for a minute, you being the first to pull away for air. You look into Eren’s eyes, stupid grins on both of your faces. He rests his forehead against yours, softly rubbing patterns against your back with his fingers .“That was not bad for someone that can’t swim”, he breathes out.
“You're never going to let that go, are you?”
“Not planning to.”
Laughing, his lips connect to your jaw, then moves down, tracing warm and wet kisses down your neck. Searching for your sweet spot, he knows he has found it when you let out a soft moan, the sound music to his years. He sucks on it for a while, you only realize what he was doing once the spot is already marked.
“Hey! Why’d you do that!”
“Relax princess. I’m simply just marking my territory.” His voice is low and husky, sending another wave of shivers down your spine. Smiling against your neck, Eren’s fingers lightly trace down to your thighs. He softly taps on them a few times.
“Jump.”
Listening to his command, you jump into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping against his waist, his hands grabbing at your thighs. His lips connect back to yours, this time the kiss more hungry, longing for more. He walks you both over to the bed, resting your back against the bed, ruffling up the white sheets. Kissing you for another minute more, his lips trace down your neck, down your collar bones, and onto your shirt. He places kisses down the neck of your shirt, and to one of your breasts, his other hand softly massaging the other. Playfully tugging your shirt, he disconnects his mouth and looks into your eyes again. Smiling a stupid grin at you, he tilts his head.
“Can I undress you?”
Butterflies erupt through your body. Smiling at his sweetness, you nod your head yes. Without wasting a moment, Eren sets you up at the edge of the bed. You raise your hands to give him easier access, and he slowly and seductively pulls your shirt off of your body. He throws it to who knows where, revealing your red laced bra. Smiling a lopsided grin, Eren looks back at you.
“I like the bra. Sexy.” You smile back at him. “Thank you, I try my best.”
Laughing, Eren’s mouth connects with your body again, making his way down your stomach, leaving hot and wet kisses all over. He comes to your waistband, and looks up at you for confirmation before doing anything. You nod your head. Coming back down, he slowly unbuttons your jeans shorts, and pulls the zipper down even slower, knowing damn well what he’s doing. “C'mon Eren.” You place your hands in his hair, whining at his teasing. Finally, he pulls your shorts and panties down in one go and throws them to the same place as your shirt, revealing your soaking wet cunt. Smirking at your pussy, he shakes his head. “Damn, already that wet, and I haven’t even done anything. Do I turn you on that much?” You smack him in the head, heat rising to your cheeks. “Oh, shut up.”
He chuckles. “It's okay baby, you turn me on too.” Not giving you any time to react, Eren rubs your clit, rubbing in slow circles. You try to suppress your moans, afraid that someone will hear you guys in the living room. Rubbing even faster, Eren’s looks into your eyes.
“Let me hear you. Okay princess?” He drags his finger between your folds, making you call out his name. “E- Eren,” You cry out, your words turning into a breathy moan. “That’s what I like to hear. Fuck, you're gorgeous.” He softly muttered against your thighs. Climbing on top of you, Eren connects his lips with you, a soft and slow kiss this time while you wrap your legs around his torso. Slowly, Eren slips one finger into you, groaning at how you clench around his finger. His finger thrusts into you, hitting your sensitive spots. “Shit, Eren.”
“Fuck.” Eren slips another finger into you, causing you to cry out, the already huge bulge in his pants only growing at your sweet sounds. His thumb rubs your clit in circles, the feeling enough to make you go crazy. You scrape your fingers against his back, leaving red lines along his skin. His fingers repeatedly thrust into you, Eren groaning at the lewd noises coming from your slick. Back arching to a curve, your breasts press against his chest. You squeeze your eyes due to the pleasure, throwing your head back into the bed.
“No, no. Look at me baby.” You comply, opening your eyes again, eyes meeting turquoise ones.
“Eren… faster.” He knuckles deep, the pleasure consuming your mind. Grinding your hips to match the wonderful rhythm of Eren’s fingers, you knew you were about to cum. You moan his name out loudly, not caring if everyone could hear you outside. His fingers thrusted into you again, hitting the exact spot you need it to, you come undone on his fingers, leaving a tinted substance. Panting and legs shaking after reaching your high, you watch Eren bring his fingers to his mouth and lick your arousal off, not leaving a single drop left to waste. “You taste so good princess.” He leans in to kiss you, and you can taste yourself on his lips, mixed in with the sweet watermelon flavor from his messy desert.
“Are you guys okay in there?” Loud banging on the door startles you, a yelp coming from your lips. Eren climbs off of you, standing and trying to fix the tightness in his pants. Your lips turning into a small pout at the loss of the warm feeling of his body on top of yours. Grabbing your panties and shorts, he walks to you, Eren gives you a cheeky smile. He kneels down before you, stretching out your underwear and looking up at you through his eyelashes. Getting the gist, you place your right leg into one hole, left leg in the other. Then he helps you with your jeans shorts and your shirt, the same process repeating.
“Have fun?”
“I did actually… Did you?”
“Mhm, a lot.”
More banging on the door.
“Yeah, yeah. We’re fine! Coming out now.” Eren rolls his eyes in annoyance, reaching his hand into his pocket. Pulling out his phone, he scrolls and taps for a bit before reaching a page and handing it to you. “Mind if I get your number?” Nodding your head, you grab his phone from your hand and type in your number. After double checking if you typed in the right one, you hand it back to him.
Eren winks at you, the simple gesture causing butterflies to ignite throughout your body. “Thank you princess.” He walks up to the exit. Both of you forget about the now messy bed, the only thing important right now being each other. Opening the door, Eren steps to the side, allowing you to go first. “After you my lady.”
“Thank you sir.” Before you step out, Eren leans into your ear, lips grazing over your skin. He sensed the sadness radiating off your body. “It’s okay baby. We can continue another day. We have all summer after all.”
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