#yes ive been typing this out in drafts all day
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His and Her Perspectives - Chapter 3 (18+ Only)
So sorry for the delay. I wanted to get this to you guys before I head out to run some errands, been pretty busy the last few days. This was edited and somewhat partially drafted into completion, however, it is not at all proofread or checked over for errors so please excuse all of that. When i get time tonight, i'll look it over and fix any errors that exist. but for now, enjoy the read!
Pairing: Ooohohohohoho you know who. ;)
Warnings: Yes, this is like pure smut, the whole chapter. Not at all for anyone under the age of 18, so minors please ignore this post. As per usual, the smut is very descriptive, and some curse words. Just the standard stuff. But still a good read if you're trying to get in the mood or an idea of what car sex is like with MGR/MRE/HHP Heeseung ;)
Next chapter is also going to be fully smut-ish so for those of you that live for smut, stay tuned.
The surprise i have in store for you guys will be posted later, i just wanted to get this chapter out because ive been on and off working it for the last few days and I am just ready to get it out so i can work on the next one.
Summary:
Summer was swinging by faster than you could enjoy it. Emily and the girls thought of ways on how to dedicate the remainder of the break to make the most out of the last couple of months and enjoy the season to its fullest. That was when they thought of a nice trip into the valley with the boys, a mass get-together where we could all enjoy each other’s company and have game night at a rental.
It didn’t take long for the girls to find a large home at a decent daily rate, located near one of the famous vineyards in the country. The boys all thought the trip was a good idea and even offered to take charge of the barbeque, much to Emily and the girl’s delight.
You could tell Heeseung liked the idea of the trip, even though he maintained his usual habit of remaining calm, quiet, and sitting with his arms crossed, merely giving a simple nod and half a smirk when Jake turned to ask him if he was excited about the trip.
After a few days, you all had prepared and packed up for an early departure. The drive was long, nearly four and a half hours into the valley, everyone agreed to leave early in the morning while it was still dark out, hoping to mitigate the risk of getting stuck in traffic. Much to the boy’s dismay, the girls dictated that the carpool-maintained gender integrity, mainly so that they could enjoy each other’s company and catch up on daily gossip while they boys spend some quality time themselves.
Witnessing the dictation of transportation assignment, you noted Heeseung’s lowering tilt of the chin as his hat hovered and casted a shadow to cover more than just his eyes. He didn’t like the idea of making a long drive without you being beside him, not because he was the clingy type, it was more so because he had planned on taking the opportunity to rest you on his lap and tightly embracing you.
Though the feeling was mutual, you felt deep down that traveling separately was for the better. Based off the last time you sat on his lap, you both found that it was a prime position for one of your many sexual episodes.
It was on a Friday evening, you and Heeseung decided to go the movie theater. Arriving fairly early, he parked his car near the back end of the lot where it was secluded and sparse, just so you both could have some privacy to talk and freely display your affection without having to worry about exposing yourselves to people passing by. The windshield overlooked the wide shopping center across the street, with the glittering lights that decorated the shops, and the pleasant view of shoppers mingling from afar, the view produced a wholesome charm of simplistic night life.
Admiring the view, you felt a piece of your hair being tucked away as Heeseung continued to admire your profile. You shyly chucked towards his lovely notion, which only invigorated him more.
Once you both had walked in, found your seating, and watched as the movie began, the moment the beginning credits displayed the main roles was when you lost all interest in the original event. The feeling in your gut proved to be too distracting after the moment in the car. You became stimulated by the act of him moving your hair aside as he peeked at you with one visible eye from underneath his cap.
Making sure to hide it within the hair that framed your face, you glanced over to see that even though Heeseung was facing the screen, you could tell that the sexual tension was building up by the way he kept bouncing his leg. His hat that traditionally covered his eyes, gave his face more shadow from the dimmed lighting inside the theater, it made it hard to tell if he was looking at the screen or possibly gazing at something else while facing it.
His elbow propped up on the arm of the seat, as his face slightly resting against his hand, you took visual notice of the way he had his index delicately placed on his lips, brushing it back and forth gently, occasionally dragging the skin with it as he revealed a subtle display of teeth. Moving your eyes back forward, the tingling sensation grew stronger and even though you tried hiding it by crossing your arms over your chest, the depths of each breath you took was too steep, the inclining rise of your breast was too noticeable. Unsure of how to remedy the situation at a public setting, you both sat there in silence as the movie continued playing. When suddenly you heard Heeseung stand out of his chair.
Two steps in, your view of the screen is blocked by Heeseung, casually standing in front of your crossed legs and extending a hand to you. He doesn’t say a word.
You look up to see that the bill of his cap, along with the effects of the lack of lighting, aggrandized the shadow over his face, leaving only his lips to remain visible, along with the hazy side smirk it formulated. Grabbing his hand, you realized how much the tension was affecting him when you felt the weight of his pull nearly levitated you off your seat. It was so sudden, the way your body lost contact with the cushion as your legs caught up with the movement to keep you from falling over. His grip on your hand was welded.
After straightening your posture, his free hand moves up, and you stood admiring the mask of shadow that his face wore, as he gently fixes your hair with the tips of his fingers. Beginning at your hairline, you felt the light touch of his skin as his fingers pinched a small amount of hair as he delicately relocates it to the side and tucks it behind your ear. The tips gently wrap’s the piece around and behind your helix, where they remained for a second before dragging along the skin behind your ear until they encountered your earring.
He rests the dangle on his index, admiring the butterfly trinket attached. Afterwards, he continues the trailing movement of said finger, letting the earring fall from its rest as he traces your partially exposed jawline inwards towards your chin, where he used his thumb and inner knuckle to nourish a faint hold. Committing to another favorite habit of his, you felt his thumb extend its reach and brush over your lips, from center moving outwards as he rests it on the outer corner, composing small light strokes.
Heeseung synthesized many habits that reciprocated his sentiment towards you, one being his usual and most displayed act in moving, playing, or fixing your hair to amplify the exposure of your face, mainly your eyes, as evident from his showering verbiage expressing his fondness when admiring them. The second habit was the stroking and brushing of your lips.
Of all his habits, there was one that he frequently committed, at least once a day. It was his penchant for facial contact, with or without kissing permitted. Every day when you were on your way to your next class, Heeseung would do the same and walk in your direction. Regardless, it had only been a couple of hours that he hadn’t seen you, it was obvious that you were indefinitely on his mind.
Once you found yourself breaching his presence close enough to ask him how his morning classes were going, he carried his usual trait of withholding a verbal response. Instead, he’d raise a hand to push the bill of his cap up, revealing a raised eyebrow that gave him a confident expression. The tilting of his bill is followed by him placing the same hand on the back of your head, administering a slight grab of hair as he would pull your face in to meet his, nose to nose. The groove of your lips is met with his, but not in the form of a kiss, just touch. He would angle his forehead inward and flutter his lashes against your own, initiating butterfly kisses as he formed his tenacious smirk against your lips, leading to a dual chuckle that you give to each other.
In the theater, you continue to be the canvas of his thumb strokes as he savored every precise detail of your face. Using the grip he had on you, he turns and walks you out of the building, across the wide lot, and back to his car, not a word is spoken from him. With only the view of his broad shoulders, you catch yourself admiring his lethal frame from the back, watching his tall stature as he moves closer to the car with his arm extending backwards as he maintains the grip of your hand, trailing you behind. The wispy length of his hair barely extends pass the nape, faintly touching the back of his collar. No matter the angle you viewed him in, you couldn’t help but find him irresistible.
His pace slows as he reaches the back seat door, opening it, he pulls you by his grip and swings you around to face him. While maintaining the grip, he swings his hand around your backside, bending your arm by the elbow as it is pinned to your lower back, fingers intertwined with each other’s. He pulls you in and kisses you, just a small kiss, but ever so tender like the others. He nods you to get inside the backseat.
Once you slid in, you shift down to the window seat next opposite of the one you had just entered through. He follows in after you, positioning himself on the center seat with his legs widespread, each foot placed behind the two front seats. He faces in your direction, slightly leans over to kiss you once more. You feel his hands roaming from your breasts down to the smallest part of your waist and with utter ease, you’re surprised at his strength as he lifts you, only releasing a single deep moan and breath into your mouth as he picks you up, shifting your backside during movement so that it was facing him as he positioned you on his lap.
The feeling of sitting on Heeseung’s lap became one of your favorite sensations in the world. The moment he rests you on his lap, his hands drag from your waist, and down to your hips as he presses you down against his crotch, enforcing you to feel an overwhelming and pleasurable pressure from the back. As your back arches, your head tilts back against his, you feel him pressing his nose and lips against the soft skin at your nape, burrowing his soft kisses.
His hands that rests on your hips begin to set the pace for your hips to move along with. Pushing and pulling you to a rocking motion, the arch in your back simulates oceanic waves as the back of your head remains resting against his forehead. The soft kisses on your nape transition into a passionate massage as you feel his tongue becomes involved and traces small circles with each wet, and suckling kiss he leaves. You feel him inhaling the scent of your perfume that you applied on the base of your neck, with his face attached to your nape, he enjoys each whiff he takes in. Just as you relish feeling the air he pulls in with his nostrils against your skin, your body slight jolts out of shock at the feeling of his teeth gently nibbling, following by the caressing of his tongue. Concentrating at the center, his oral performance migrates over to the side of your throat as he pulls you in closer, your back fully meets his chest and your head rests on his shoulder as he burrows his face in the nook of your neck.
The motion of your body does not stop, in fact, it continues with a stronger pace as you begin to feel his hips thrusting upwards against your derriere, syncing with the moment your hips roll down on him. His eagerness is evident by his desire to increase the pace, but you use the weight of your hips to suppress each thrust to tease him a little. Not being able to take it, he reaches down and lifts the flare of your skirt up, pinning it to your pelvis with his other hand as he maintains a grip on you. He pulls down your panties, they nearly rip off from his eager ardor had it not been you lifting one leg to feed through it, salvaging the lace material as it drapes and falls on the other leg, collecting in a ring around your ankle.
Accomplishing the goal of getting your sensitive bud exposed, you feel the cold air greeting the skin in between the two folds. The sensation is followed by the pressure of his fingers as he reaches over your thigh and rubs his tips in circular motion against your clit, afflicting gentle taps with his rubbing motion. The moans that rush out your mouth are both soft and harsh as each gasp takes your breath away. The beat of your heart speeds up, pounding against your chest plate, feeling as if it will explode.
Commencing the last rub, he cups you as his middle finger is injected into your opening. Your moves speed up as you feel your mouth drying up from the consistent moaning and gasping, you’re committed to. Once he felt that he has acquired the first phase of your desire, he sticks his index in to join his middle, feeling the fluid of your arousal gushing out, coating each finger.
The arm around your waist tightens, and you feel him pulling you even closer as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. Each moment they thrust in, you feel him lifting you upwards as the base of his palm pushes against your base, shifting your weight upwards. Your head surpasses his shoulders, and your chest extends higher, nearly reaching his face as you feel his lips softly pecking below your collarbone.
The sound of skin-to-skin contact is promoted by the heavy moisture flowing in and out as his fingers manipulate the pace and your movements. Just when you feel as though you can’t take enough, his fingers thrust in deep, and remain still. You feel them waving inside you as he massages the interior flesh of your cavity, effectuating unanticipated moans to burst out from your lips as your body wallops upwards from the overwhelming sensation.
Slowly, he slides his fingers out. The sound of his zipper and button coming undone, along with your exhausting pants fills the hollowness of the stagnant car. Feeding through the opening of his briefs, you feel the warmth of his shaft and the tip graze in between your thighs. It is soft, dry, and smooth, it feels gentle and similar to baby skin as it rubs against your skin.
Your head rests on his shoulder. Nose, eyes, and lips facing the window as the side of your cheek and neck is decorated by the hair sticking on to the faint bit of sweat that glazed your skin. From the corner of your eye, you watch as his strong, and large hand grabs the base of his shaft. His long fingers wrapped around the thickness of his diameter, which was so thick that in fact, compared to it his notoriously large hand almost appeared smaller in size.
With his firm grab at the base, he extends the length perpendicularly, the tip eyeballing the roof of the car. A shiver travels from your toes, along your spine, and to the back of your neck as the size of his penis intimidates you. It didn’t get much better as you kept gazing at it, the more you had looked, the larger it seemed to appear. You kept your face off to the side and squint them shut as you prepare yourself for penetration, knowing it’s about to come as you feel the skin of his tip inching closer to your folds.
He guides the tip to rub in between the skin, up and down. He coats the muscle with the wetness that escaped you during his earlier performance, and before you know it, the sound swirling sound of wet skin swooshing against one another returns. The sound takes over your gasps as they die down from the break.
The sudden feeling of his face burrowing into the nook of your neck went unappreciated as you didn’t get the chance to apprize the feeling due to his entry that followed immediately after. The combination of his open lips against your neck, breathing out semi-harshly and the tip of his nose pressing into you right below your ear, enshrined the severity of his penetration. You felt the hot air from his breathing coating your neck, it condensates your skin as you feel drips of moisture trinkling down to your collarbone. The sharpness of his entry can’t be ignored, but the feeling of his face on your skin helped in distracting you from the pain, even though it was only slightly.
The sound and feeling of the vibration in his voice as he gasps and grunts into your neck takes you over the edge as he simultaneously thrusts in and out. He starts of deep but slow, going in, pulling out, just as the tip is edging its exit, only for him to thrust back in deeper than before. The feeling of pressure and being filled shrills you, it’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before he came into your life. It was overpowering, both enjoyable and painful.
The movement of your body shifting upwards became more prominent than before when he used his fingers. His hips bucking up into you dramatized the elevation of your weight. The moans were replaced with cries of immense stimulation as each thrust incites your muscles, causing them to contract and shake, ridding more moisture than before as it gushes out, only to be thrusted back in.
The feeling of his chest permanently attached to your back provided a feeling of comfort and safety. He felt so broad and hard, the width of your shoulders was not even half of his. Your hands rest on the sides of his seated hips, desperately trying to find something to latch on to from the excitement of the sting and ecstasy convulsing in your body. All you could feel was the smoothness of the faux leather seat, the flat surface giving you nothing. The feature of the newly modeled car allotted for the seat belt latches to remain hidden and tucked in between seats, to maintain a slick aesthetic appeal, which had ultimately work against you as you couldn’t dig them out with just your fingertips.
Desperate as the quivering sensation takes over your body, you reach up and grab on to his arm that remained steadfast and wrapped around your waist. You felt the muscles of his forearm as he slightly pushed you down each time he thrusted, then lift you when he partially exited. Upon feeling you reaching up and grabbing onto his arm, it propelled him to increase the pace, he burrows his face in deeper to the nook of your neck, causing his cap to fall completely off his head.
His soft hair cushions against the straight edge of your jawline. His heated gasps are now accompanied with soft kisses, the sensitivity of the skin on your neck shivers upon receiving them. The arm around your waist remains steady, even tightened as the pace grew, while his other hand rests on your inner thigh, gently applying pressure to maintain the spread of your legs. His fingertips tapping your skin every so often when your cries became harsh and out of breath.
“Uh! Baby. Fuck!” He states in between his gasps.
“You’re so damn beautiful, I’m so fucking lucky I get to be the one to do this to you.” The more he spoke in his low and calm tone, the more you felt yourself gushing out the natural essence of your body, which only promoted him to thrust in and out with ease.
“Fuck baby, keep getting wet for me, makes it easier to fuck you. You’re so fucking tight.”
He was right, it did make it easier for him to ravish you, the pace of each thrust came in faster, and faster. He was rough, but nowhere near as ferocious as his Ethan. There was still a soft side to Heeseung’s performance that allowed you to maintain some aspect of the setting, whereas his Ethan persona would normally induce you to a state of unawareness and peaked exhaustion.
The pace continued to go faster, unsure of how it was possible, yet all you could do was to take it. It didn’t matter how loud your cries and pleasuring moans were, the car was parked away and at a distance where no one could see, hear, or save you. You were at his mercy, for the pleasure was too great at times, you almost felt the desire to escape his grasp. Whenever you shifted, attempting to close your legs or extend your hips away from his groin, the hand that laid firmly on your inner thigh would hold you down and spread, reminding you that there was no escape, not even from the gentle Heeseung. His vigor remained ever present no matter what side he was taking, himself or Ethan. For both entities, the difference on the achievement didn’t matter, there was one goal that they shared to obtain, and that was to get the both of you to cum.
Suddenly, your body couldn’t take anymore. You felt your muscles violently contracting, the shaking of your body terminates the smooth sail of your body’s movements that had, up until that moment, followed in sync with his thrusts. Your hips jolt, up and down, left to right, only to be suppressed by his grab on you as he forces you to remain steady while he continues thrusting. The feeling was beyond overwhelming, it was too good that it was almost painful. Your body tries to fight it by shifting fiercely, trying to break free, yet the slap of his hand against your thigh as he pushes you down with his arm and strengthens his grab overpowers you, causing you to scream.
“Oh yeah, that’s it baby. Cum for me.” The feeling of his lips moving as he spoke, grazing against the sensitive area of your neck did not help the matter, your mind went into the state of confusion as to trying to configure if the sensation you were forced to succumb to was good or bad, or both. All of which became null and void when your orgasm kicked in and put you on cloud nine.
His thrusts became heavier, deeper, and dowdy as the speed increased, all the while you became limp and barely out of breath as each weakened moan escaped you. The tingling high you felt in our gut shuddered your muscles as your body began to gradually release a fluid that is different from the natural lubricant it produced before. It felt sour, almost stingy but not at all painful, just overly euphoric. You couldn’t control it as you screamed and dug your fingertips into the arm around your waist, feeling him pushing you down as he felt the flow of your orgasm drowning his tip and trickling down his length.
Three deep thrusts in as you were cumming, you felt the fierceness of his gasps coughed against your neck as he releases into you. His hand that had rested gently on your inner thigh suddenly grabbed hold and just like you, the fingertips dug into your skin, pushing your thigh outwards more in the process while bruising the skin. A series of hard but slow thrusts followed suit, as if he was making sure every drip went deep inside.
What followed suit were everlasting moments of peaceful rest as you both regained your breaths, mainly you. Your raging pants were gently persuaded to calmness as you felt his hand rub and massage your chest, while his relentless kisses on your neck continued.
“Breathe for me. Breathe for me, baby.”
He calmly tells you, all the while his shaft remains in your body, surrounded by your warmth and softness.
#heeseung x reader#heeseung hard hours#heeseung hard thoughts#heeseung scenarios#heeseung smut#heeseung fanfic#heeseung ff#enha x reader#enhypen hard hours#enhypen smut#enha fanfiction#enha smut#enhypen drabbles#heeseung imagines#heeseung smau#heeseung x you#heeseung drabbles
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Emalee we need a fic like your recent innie one (I loved it btw 10/10) but y/n taking care of Hyunjin I’m begging it’d be so cute. Maybe when he has the stomach flu too and doesn’t wanna bother y/n cus she’s busy but she catches on and helps him?? 💓💓
omg yes this is such a cute idea 🥹! also thank you for the positive feedback, it means so much to me! if you have any more fic requests fill free to send them to me!
let me know..
sick!hyunjin x reader, implied relationship, pet names like baby, my boy, darling, lovely, MENTION OF VOMITING, CRYING, DEHYDRATION, & BULLYING/HATE
i placed my bag on the back of hyunjins chair and booted up my computer at the desk in his room. waiting for hyunjin would definitely take a while, so i decided to start a university essay iv been procrastinating on. as i sighed and started typing up a draft to base it off, hyunjin walked into the room.. 2 hours earlier than usual.
“well you’re quite early today.” i said softly as i stood up from my seat. “yeah- minho said we did good today so.. we uh, got done early, are you doing a essay?” he looked over my head at my open computer and empty doc. “i was going to start it while i waited for you but since you’re home early..it can wait another day.” he shook his head at me and looked at the bathroom, avoiding the eye contact i tried to make with him. i noticed his body tense up a little and he looked at me for about .1 of a second.
“im going to go shower, go work on your essay, okay? don’t wanna get behind do you, darling?” i shook my head as he turned to me again and gave me a smile. as he walked into the bathroom, i couldn’t help but notice him clutch his stomach just a tiny bit. i guessed that he might’ve been sore from dance practice so i shrugged it off. i sat back down at the chair and pulled my legs up to my chest as i stared at the wall, trying to think of how to start it. i heard the shower head squeak on and water started to poor.
i couldnt think, the only one thing that filled my head was the way hyunjin acted. was he getting hate from social media again? or maybe he was just tired. i turned my focus to the empty doc and watched the small line blink, then fade away. laying on my head on the keyboard out of defeat of my writers block, the keys pressed under the pressure and the letters and symbols appeared on the screen. I turned my head to the side to see a framed photo of me and hyunjin backstage during their maniac tour. He was holding his phone out as he kissed his cheek, eyes closed gently, as i winked, held his cheeks and looked at the camera.
a smile appeared at the sight of the familiar picture. i picked it up to look at it closer, han and minho were making faces at us in the background. then a lightbulb went off in my head. i knew what i was going to write about! i placed the picture back in its place and backspaced all the letters and symbols that had been accidentally pressed into the doc.
i started typing and typed faster than i thought i could. i was so emerged into the essay, i didn’t even notice Hyunjin walk out of the bathroom, change into sweats and a white tee, and crawl into bed. well, that was until about 2 to 3 hours later, my computer was 10% to dying. i sighed and saves the doc before closing the computer and plugging it in. i turned to see hyunjins sleeping figure, his legs bent at his knees and his hands rested under his cheek.
i was slightly confused but he looked so peaceful. he never fell asleep before me, he always made sure i went to sleep before him. i came to a conclusion that today was just hard for him, and he was really tired. I changed into some shorts and a baggy tee i stole from his a few days ago. it was one of his shirts that had been smothered in paint. i thought it looked beautiful, even it was just some splattered colored on a basic light grey tee. it was so beautiful to me, because of the fact that it was made by my boy, my hyunjin.
i slipped into the bed next to him, throwing my arms around his middle. he shivered in his sleep despite feeling hotter than usual. i looked at his face as it scrunched up in slight discomfort. i brought my hand up to his face to brush some hair out of his face, brushing his cheek and forehead in the process. both felt unusually hot. i frowned, thinking possibly hes sick.. but he would’ve told me? he always does. i sighed closing my eyes to fall asleep with him, id make sure to take care of him in the morning.
i woke up to feel hyunjin getting out of bed beside me. “jinnie?” i mumbled, seeing his figure turn in the dark. “im just going to the bathroom..” i sighed and pick up my phone from the bedside table. it was 2:42 am. “just go back to sleep, okay lovely? I’ll be back in a few minutes..” i sighed and laid back in the bed. as he went into the bathroom, i heard him cough a few times and then i thought i heard him.. vomit? “jinnie?”
i opened the door to see him sitting on the floor, hunched over the toilet. i didn’t say another word, i just walked up behind him and held his slightly long, black hair away from his face. the lingering feeling of his skin felt like fire against my fingertips. as i held his hair with one hand, i held his hand gently with the others. “im sorry” he coughed out. he got finished throwing up and laid his head against my chest. i felt a droplet fall onto my leg. i held his head in my hands to look him in the eyes
“why are you crying baby?” i asked as i brushed a tear off his cheek with my thumb. “im sorry i didnt tell you.. im sorry you have to take care of me. i-i know you have an essay to do and- i-“ i kissed his forehead and held him close to my chest again. “don’t apologize.. the essay can wait, ill take care of everythin. of you, my university work, everything.. but you’re my first priority, okay?” i hugged his shoulders as he nodded and sniffed softly. “why didn’t you tell me you were sick my boy?” “you looked so concentrated on your essay.. i didn’t want to make you loose your train of thought.”
i laughed softly. “you we’re my train of thought, i was writing an essay about the cons of being in love with someone.” “you wrote about me?” he whispered as he met his eyes with mine. “yes.. and id do it a thousand times more, i love you hyunjin.. let me take care of you?” “okay..i love you too yn.” i kissed the crown of his head a few times before laughing. “let’s get you into bed, yeah? ill get you some medicine and water.. i know your dehydrated.”
we stood up together and i brought him to bed, tucked him in and set up a desk fan on his night stand. “have i ever told you have good you are to me?” he laughed and held my hand. “all the time..” i respond with a smile. “ill get you some medicine and water, then we can go back to sleep, okay?” “what about your classes tomorrow?” he frowned. “don’t worry, ill work online. ill even work in bed with you if you want.” i brushed his hair back into a ponytail. “and ill talk to minho and chan tomorrow, you won’t have to worry, okay?” “thank you lovely..” “of course.”
i left the room and grabbed him a ice cold water and some medicine. when I came back he smiled at me, taking the medicine, and downing most of the water. “will you stay with me all night?” he asked as he pulled me into bed with him. “however long you want.” he smiled again and held me in his arms. “goodnight, my lovely girl.” “goodnight, my hyunjinnie.”
#stray kids#skz scenarios#skz x reader#stray kids x y/n#skz#stray kids scenarios#skz hyunjin#stray kids hyunjin#hyunjin x you#hyunjin x reader
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i had a whole rant typed out like 2 days ago that i made while emotional but it will rot in my drafts forever now because i have now spent the required amount of time in the timeout corner and properly digested my emotions to come back and make a fresh new post
idk what corporate girly out there slaving in front of a laptop needs to hear this AGAIN, because i certainly have heard this before but subconsciously dismissed it because Surely That Won't Happen To I, but it DID so i am now yelling at you from the other side
DONT FUCKING TRUST YOUR MANAGER!!!!!!!!! the nuance here is that YES they can be nice, and they can 100% be the best person ever, and they might not even consciously manipulate you. but you are never safe from subconscious manipulation or just straight up incompetence.
if your manager does their job well, it means you are manipulated. BUT if they do their job BAD, you STILL get manipulated!! this is because even if they are incompetent, you will always end up bridging the gap for their incompetence and it will weigh you down and you will NEVER get credit for your work. in fact, you are in danger on both ends of the spectrum - if you manager is good, they'll take credit for your work. if your manager is bad, they'll STILL take credit for your work AND make you suffer for it because they won't even have the skills at least get you the reward you deserve.
ive spent the last 3 years under my do-nothing manager always giving him the benefit of the doubt, "oh he's just a silly lil guy this is his first management job he doesnt know what hes doing" type shit, and i have nothing but stress and resentment to show for it.
i have LITERALLY been DOING HIS JOB FOR HIM. i revamped our meetings, i put sprint processes in place, i drew our team scope/borders and weighed in on who should staff projects. and on TOP of that i did tech lead and regular ic work. i was doing both my job and at least 50% of his because im not a fucking manager and theres only so much i can do.
but all this time my actual skill set as an engineer is deteriorating because ive been begging for mentorshop/coaching since day one i joined the team, which is 100% the manager's job to coach and level up their engineers, but these needs were completely ignored in favor of me trying to get this dumb fucking team together because my manager literally does nothing. he doesn't do his fucking job, and he gets away with it because he has high soft skill!!!! his boss likes him!!! so he will not be punished!!!!!!
i on the other hand am severely punished because i have revealed my hand as a do-all "superstar", im the one that gets 3 projects with the same deadline that i have to do all by myself, im the one thats expected to do all my work and more AND i am the one that takes the brunt of flack when external teams are ultimately disappointed that the deadlines are not met. i get no protection from any of this shit because my manager is fucking incompetent and refuses to step up. whether he consciously or subconsciously does this DOES NOT MATTER!!!! you will ALWAYS eat it at the bottom line!!!
treat your manager like your enemy, never trust them. size them up in your first few 1:1s to see how much they can do for you in terms of your career. if they are NOT delivering results within the first 2-3 months, CLOCK OUT!!!!!! decenter work from your life, shut the laptop at 5pm sharp, put in your bare minimum to not get canned and turn your brain off from all work problems. sometimes the corporate grind is worth it but ONLY if you have someone competent managing you and they are smart enough to recognize that engineers under them need reward and respect to be retained. if they won't or can't retain you, just let it happen!!!! dont overextend yourself it's never worth it
obv im yelling this from my jail cell as a software engineer so idk how much of this is applicable to other fields, but that's my two cents. i have spent way too much time being upset and angry these last few weeks to not vent about it. if this applies to you, pls save yourself the heartache and learn the skill of decentering work for when it comes in handy. im not advocating for indiscriminate quiet quitting bc that can actually be harmful to your financials, but the art of quiet quitting should still be mastered for when the appropriate time arises. use your discretion
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Hi chords!! I am haunting your inbox once more >:) But also please never worry about responding fast or at all lmao, life is busy!!
13. Do you listen to music while you write? If yes, what have you been listening to recently?
16. Do you write by hand, on your phone, or on your laptop?
30. How much do you edit your fics? Do you edit as you write or wait until you finish the first draft?
heheh hello again moss. ive set up a lil chill space for you in here actually, including the comfiest chair you could possibly imagine, please keep comin back :')
13. is this how i drop the clementine playlist? bc this is what ive been listening to almost exclusively while im writing. also if you cant tell by how barren it is, i actually use tidal, not spotify :') but i felt i should make the official playlist available to the masses lol. sam fender has kinda become the unofficial musician of clementine. in my spare time ive been listening to a lot of chappell roan and a band called The Thing (listen to their song Neptuune its incredible)
16. i do a little of everything! my usual go to when im trying to break out of a creative rut is to switch where im writing. so ill go from my laptop to a notebook, ive been doing a lot of roadtripping just to travel back and forth from home to where i currently live so ive done a lot of voice to text recently? had a day where i wrote like 4k on voice to text alone, it was so much editing :')
30. I definitely edit as i go. the wonderful @i-am-church-the-cat takes a pass over all my stuff before it goes out into the world as well and i cannot thank him more for that (love u bro). i dont edit a lot however, i mostly just fix like, grammatical errors and any sort of repetitive vocabulary. im definitely the type where i will wait to write a scene until i feel like i can really do it justice, not someone who will do a bunch of different drafts and pick and choose what i like out of them. usually, its what i write is how it goes, and if something doesnt work it goes to the bottom of the document to be slotted in where it fits later.
thank u for the ask heehee
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Literally help me. I got an ask by an anon for a Tsukasa x Reader who also has a passion for music and bc i am EXTREMELY active on tumblr i started writing as soon as i got it and saved it to my drafts so i could finish it later right... its been a few hrs since then and i ACCIDENTALLY POSTED IT LIKE A SECOND AGO AND IVE NEVER EVER CLICKED DELETE SO QUICKLY. So for the lovely lil anon that asked for this, this is for you .
also im this close to calling my anons anonoculi... bye i need to log off genshin
IM ALSO GOING TO MAKE THIS A 25 FOLLOWER SPECIAL, ITS BEEN A WEEK AND A FEW DAYS SINCE IVE MADE THIS ACC AND IM ALR AT A QUARTER TO 100 LETS GOOO~!! I LOVE U ALL SM HELP WHAT
Type: Headcannons × Short Story
Warnings: None !!
Proofread?: Uhm no im doing this instead of schoolwork . . .
Ten-message: i dont know if this is slightly ooc or not . . .
❥ TSUKASA TENMA x Reader: My Muse
- TSUKASA TENMA HAVING AN S/O W A PASSION FOR MUSIC?? bye bro is in heaven
- You and him LOVE to talk about musicals and music videos and how he can improve W×S' performances, and hes really happy to be able to talk to someone who understands
- Definitely has multiple shared playlists w you focused on different genres (just incase ur in the mood for sum different)
- Yes, you will be featured sometimes on wxs performances. If you dont like performing infront of people, you all have fun singing backstage like no one is watching
- Sharing earbuds !! When you guys are sharing earbuds and youre doing something, he likes to come up to you and hug you from behind and sway as we whispers along to the song
- Always ends up with you two slow dancing somehow
SHORT STORY UTC !!
You had come over to Tsukasa's house for the evening, wanting to show him a new artist you had found. You excitedly sat on his bed grasping your phone as he closed the room door and glanced over at you with a smile filled with love, before walking over and sitting next to you.
You quickly typed on your phone, searching for the artist to have him listen to a few songs. This artists' inspiration is also for people to smile, so you thought he would like this artist since they have the same goal in mind. As Tsukasa listens to the songs, he is quiet for the first minute or two, listening carefully. You can't help the cheesy grin that soon appears on your face as he sways along, eventually getting up and dancing.
He pulls you up with him and you guys move and dance along to the beat. Soon enough, everything seems to fade out except him, both of your laughs, and the music in the background. You really enjoyed these moments with him as you both could bond and laugh and sing and not give a care about anything else in the world temporarily. You both fall in unison on the bed, chests rising and falling quickly as you try to catch your breath. He still can't help but giggle at the redness of both of your cheeks, and the happy sounds of your laughter.
❝ Moments like these are amazing to share with you. Thank you for being here, my muse. ❞
#♭:┆request !!#tsukasa tenma x reader#tenma tsukasa x reader#pls send help#project sekai x reader#tsukasa x reader
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Can I get 16 and 21 for the current wip asks? 🥺👉👈
— @outpost51
16. Write the next 5 sentences and share.
you got me through the boring transition scene, ty ive been procrastinating this skjfnekjs
The other end of the transporter brought them to a room in a building that looked like it would fit right in with the rest of the Chaos Institute – no windows and yet another heavy metal door as the only entrance or exit. Once everyone had arrived, Unseelie led them all out, stopping briefly to speak with a guard in an United States military uniform. The soldier opened a bolted door to the outside, and Unseelie led the group out into the bright, sunny day that looked several hours later than the internal clock the Chaos Institute had instilled in Max. Max pulled his jacket closed tighter against the biting wind, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets. So far, nothing about his surroundings made this place look like it was any type of messed up, much less a Scar from the Apocalypse Era.
21. Share 3 songs that would belong on a playlist for this chapter/fic.
is this one stereotypical for a story about villains? maybe. do i love it anyway? yes, fite me
Twisted by MISSIO
the song that inspired the kidnap subplot for the last version that became the main plot of the current version of the draft
Flares by The Script
Champions by Kurt Hugo Schneider, Andie Chase
#ask games#wip; the chaos in justice#i have no idea if the spotify links are working or not#does it just not show in previews or will it remain broken once posted?#i have no idea#very annoying if they don't work at all#but we shall see#put the names on there just in case
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TB: Excerpt #8 — Liam
cw: Medical Mention
Words: 1072
Taglist: @irnalia, @waysofink, @ashen-crest, @spacetimewraithwrites, @dustylovelyrun, @idreamonpaper, @abalonetea, @jaimistoryteller, @kaiusvnoir, @writeouswriter, @reininginthefirewriting, @concealeddarkness13, @athenixrose, @asomeoneperson (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed)
“You got it?” Ryker asked tentatively, smiling when Beau straightened from his desk to look up at him.
“I think so,” Beau had read plenty of reports, twelve thousand and eight to be exact, but he’d never written one himself.
“Alright, well, let me know if you need any help.” Ryker patted his shoulder before stepping away, chatting with Midland before heading towards his office. Of course, Beau had compiled information in a type of report for the network. Submitting VIN and insurance information, diagnostic reports and field notes. But he’d never done something like this.
Ryker wanted him to write up the events that had happened on patrol that day.
Beau had said he could when in all honesty he wasn’t certain he could. He already had all of the data in order, facts and stats, that was the easy part. Where he struggled was wording it all in a way that was more than a readout of figures and data.
“Beau!” The call pulled his attention from the terminal screen. He looked around the workroom, catching Midland’s stare who shrugged and thumbed towards the hall. “Hey, Beau!”
“Y-yeah…Yes?” He filed away his attempted drafts and got to his feet. Captain Royston appeared in the doorway just before Beau, sighing an exasperated look as if he’d searched the station twenty times over.
“There you are, kid. C’mere, there’s someone here who wants to meet you.” The irritation quickly turned to overfriendliness, tossing an arm across Beau’s shoulders with a tight squeeze. “They asked for you by name. Eh? Got yourself a fanclub?” As Royston led him towards the station entrance, Beau scrambled to search his database for anyone who would want to meet him. Had something gotten back to BloomingTek about the patch he and Ives created? Was it an Auditor?
| Fanclub — an organized group of fans of a famous person.|
Oh no… I’m not famous. I don’t want a fanclub.
He hurried to think of a reason to decline, personal relations programming providing little material on the matter.
“Here he is,” Royston announced as they emerged around the receptionist’s desk. Beau’s panic flatlined as he instantly recognized the woman standing there. She wasn’t at all frantic as she had been in the back of Ryker’s patrol car, pleading with him to help her son, but he knew her eyes. She recognized him just as quickly, smiling with a tilt of the head causing her light hair to spill over a shoulder.
“Officer Beau, I don’t know if you remember me—”
“Mrs. Doomer,” Beau offered out his hand, detecting movement around the side of her leg. A small face peered up at him, curls nearly blocking the boy’s eyes, little hands grasping folds of Mrs. Doomer’s slacks. Beau barely noticed she was shaking his hand.
“That’s right,” she laughed, drawing back and glancing down at the boy. “I’ve been meaning to come back sooner, to thank you. I… Well, this is Liam.”
“Liam…” Beau slowly crouched down to be eye level with the boy, sure to keep his distance so as to not frighten him. Liam remained tucked behind his mother, eyeing Beau curiously. “Hi there, Liam. I’m Beau.”
“Hi Beau,” came a whisper.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Beau stretched a hand out to a peaceful distance so as to not pressure him. Liam glanced from the hand to Beau’s face and, ever slowly, edged his way out from behind his mother. Beau didn’t dare move. With another tentative glance to Beau’s face, Liam took his hand. It was impossible for Beau to stop the smile. Liam was alright, a question that yet to leave his thoughts ever since they’d taken Liam to the ER. But here he was, well on his feet.
The touch allowed Beau’s systems to scan him in an instant. Liam now had a vagus nerve stimulator implanted, a sign the seizures could have gotten worse. “You’re a tough little man, aren’t you? I like your jacket.” Beau chuckled, pointing to the felt turtle embroidered on the right chest pocket.
“Thank you,” Liam let go to touch the patch in reference. “It’s a turtle.”
“I like turtles,” Beau rested his hands on his knees.
“Me too. My teacher, Mr. Stanley, has a turtle. It’s in our classroom. You should come see him. He’ll let you hold him!”
“Does he?”
“Yep.” Liam looked up, studying Beau, “was it you that took me to the hospital?”
“Well, yes, but not just me.”
Liam stiffly turned as if to check to see if his mother was still there. Discovering she was, he stepped a bit closer to Beau, bringing a tiny hand to his mouth to guard his whisper, “ are you a real robot?”
“Liam!” His mother hushed. Beau laughed, mimicking him as he too leaned closer to whisper.
“Yeah, I’m a real robot.”
“I’m a little bit robot.”
“Oh?” Beau chuckled.
“The doctor says I have wires in my head now. Do you have wires in your head too?”
“I have a lot of wires in my head,” Beau ran a few processes causing facets in his face to shift, creating lines between his facial panels. Liam’s eyes got big, mouth falling open as he scanned him over. Ever carefully, he reached up, touching Beau’s face to trace some of the lines.
“So cool…” Liam whispered.
“But you have a brain and wires. I think that’s even cooler.” Beau moved the facets back into place, surprised when Liam lunged. He threw his arms around Beau’s neck, squeezing tightly and nearly knocking them off balance. Beau caught him, glancing up to his mother who was dabbing at her eyes. Wrapping his arms around Liam, he held him a little tighter. “I’m glad you’re okay, Liam. I’m really glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks Beau,” Liam leaned back, “Can you come to my school sometime? You could see our turtle and meet my friends!”
“Honey, Beau does have to work,” his mother reminded him.
“Maybe,” Beau tried to appease him. “I usually work during school hours, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Okay,” Liam nodded. Getting to his feet, Beau thanked Mrs. Doomer, gaining a hug from her in turn before they had to leave. His mother took his hand, giving a wave before they started for the door. Beau watched them go, continuing to wave until Liam was down the steps and gone around the corner.
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3, 23, 24, 25, 27 and 30? 💕
hi hi ria!! blessings of rain be upon ye...
3. how you feel about your current wip
i am RATTLING the bars of the cage in my brain!!! by that i mean the faramir goes to rivendell au is possibly my favourite best thing ive ever written i am just stuck in the mudpit of the current conversation and i would like to. not be there. but i really do love working on it it feels like gradually assembling a structure around a framework and when i step back and really look at it its just. jrr tolkien and i are having A Conversation. you know? like yes!! i AM transforming the work!! i AM deciding whether he would fucking say that and i do think i am right at least 92% of the time!! ive had the concept of the au in my head for probably 3-4 years at least and i feel like. well i was never really going to feel Ready to write it. and yet i am grabbing it in my hands and doing it anyway and it IS making me a much better writer and i can Feel it. yeah i love it.
and umbar fic/situationship au is just me pushing the bounds of do it weird/do it horny/do it self-indulgent and it is. SO MUCH FUN. i think there has always been a little block in my head stopping me from doing that i mean like everything i write is kind of like. this is specifically created to cater to me. but the panopticon in my head is a crazy thing. but step by step we are defeating it. this is like the next step up from just so long as this thing's loaded which was kind of my first time pushing those bounds and. i mean there are a lot of things about that one that i think i could improve now (this is my REAL answer to that "would you rewrite anything" question from the other ask meme) but it definitely got me here. never underestimate the power of a rarepair to make you WEIRD. (<- abby rarepairnationcore sentences...)
23. pick three keywords that describe your writing
what is this a job application? LOL just kidding but i do suck at these. um. atmospheric. character-driven (yes this is two words but it is true). interrogative (i am IN THERE with. either the original text. or the minds of the characters. shakes u like a snow globe WHAT is going on in your head).
24. how do you recharge when you're not feeling creative?
im really bad at this. like actually spectacularly abysmal. i mostly sit around feeling sorry for myself for three to nine months. until i eventually buck up the motivation and executive function to actually (re)consume a piece of media and more often than not it will seize me by the throat and lead me out of the pit. yeah this does usually work best with things ive seen before that will awaken a dormant fixation.
25. besides writing, what are your other hobbies?
going to the grocery store. doing my dishes. LOL ok when i am Not Writing A Novel-Length Fic i knit. one day i will start doing it again i want to make. the extensive sweater vest collection of my dreams. but i already have this repetitive stress injury because i type for eight hours at work and then come home and type for four more and i think if i started knitting again on top of that i would immediately crumble to dust. and um. is that it? that can't be it. i do calligraphy sometimes. WAIT LOL I BIND BOOKS. -> @hexagonspress
27. your favourite part of the writing process
omg ok i'm not sure if this is like my Top Number One Favourite but ive recently started really enjoying drafting out ao3 tags and start/end notes it's really fun to work out what things i want people to notice that i might wanna talk about in the end notes and compressing everything down into tags (to varying extents) is also just a neat way to think about like. what was i trying to capture/convey with the fic. e.g. whether i wanna be really wordy with it and get it all out in there or just have the reader go in pretty much blind.
30. share a fic you're especially proud of
maybe i'll never shut up about TO THE VERY DEAR MEMORY OF [ ] but like...you guys. i love it so much. it's so so experimental because the place in my mind that is wrapped around yancy becket is so....complicated and full of grief and fundamentally altering to my brain chemistry and i can only capture it through the world's craziest extended metaphors but i kind of feel like i pulled it off. it is like truly the tip of the iceberg of a LOT of stuff that is really fundamental to honestly a lot of my? lotr work? i mean the way i think about water metaphors...the fundamental dead brother complex baked into my writer's brain...it's all pacific rim in there. this fic marinated in my head for THREE YEARS. that is the longest from inception to completion that any of my (published) work has existed (unpublished is a whole different story. there's a longfic that i created at the beginning of my freshman year of college and has stuck around into postgrad. i mean. girl). i wrote the poem that each first line of every section is extracted from in my parents' house during covid lockdown. and then it just had to sit and develop and develop until the yancy becket death anniversary this year yanked it forcibly out of my head and into a fully-formed format.
fic writer's asks
#from the inbox#sweetshire#man my recency bias when i talk about my own work has become...so obvious to me recently#bc ive been doing all these fic asks (which has been. just so much fun u guys. i never wanna stop talking about it all). but like. yeah its#really just Page One Of My AO3 Works. well we are in there#I HIT ENTER BEFORE I FINISHED THE POST LMAO SO SORRY. ADDING LIKE THREE MORE SENTENCES#girl this is so long sorry everyone on my dash i just...love to talk#thank u for so many ria i had a blast
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s
spider-man pokemon au
Peter contrary to popular belief doesn’t have any spider pokemon until after he creates his hero persona. His companion is actually a lil Furret Uncle Ben caught as a Sentret for Peter when he moved in. Her name is Furry and he has to live with that (he was like 5 or whatever of course he’d name her something like that). She probably goes out on spider things with him, she has her own costume and everything, and clings onto his back when he’s swinging. He does befriend a Spinarak during this time, but she’s more of a wild pokemon that just like hanging out with him.
Ben probably has a doggish pokemon, probably like a normal type, or something like a Growlithe. I can’t shake the idea of May having a Kangaskhan. It’s probably like a relatively small one, she helps May around the house a lot and is Mom.
Max definitely has a bunch of electric types that follow him around after his transformation into Electro. Just like hordes of wild pokemon that like to hang out around him. I like the idea of his partner being like a lil Pichu he dotes on. Just a babey.
Otto has an Omanyte you can’t change my mind. It evolves into Omastar a little after he becomes Doc Ock. As an Omanyte it’s shy and gentle with everyone, but after it evolves it stays very loving with its trainer but is an absolute bastard with everyone else. I can also see him picking up a Malamar later or something like a Porygon.
Norman has a shiny Glameow, she wears sweaters probably and is very spoiled. His partner tho is a Sableye. He also kept his wife’s Sneasel after she passed away and Sneasel is Sableye’s goth gf. I can’t tell if Sneasel is really big or Sableye is really small, but compared to her Sableye is teeny.
Harry has an Eevee for Symbolism tm and also because I can see him with a Flareon. He might also have a Poochyena. Eevee I can see Norm pressuring him to evolve it into an Umbreon, dark types are probably like a weird family tradition or something. Oh my god there’s exactly an episode in the first series about this oh my god anyway.
They have so many pokemon in that house I’m not even done why. do they. Anyway When Norman does Goblin things he meets a Gengar and a Crobat pair that lives in one of the lesser used Oscorp warehouses. Again they’re more like wild pokemon that like hanging out with a person, but they take a shine to him. When he goes out on Crimes they follow, Gengar floats just behind Crobat to look like he’s riding a glider and imitates all of Goblins moves, especially when he’s on a dramatic villain monologue. No one can tell if it just really likes him or is making fun of him. On mimicking/mirroring notes, his Sableye probably does the same thing with more mundane stuff. Like a toddler. When he’s doing paperwork it probably tries to do it too and has to be set up with like paper and crayons off to the side so it doesn’t try to do his work for him lmao. God I really love pets/pokemon mimicking their owners it’s so cUTE.
Mac definitely has a Drapion. He didn’t even get it after he started being Scorpion he just always had the lil guy. It was fate.
It’s hurting me so hard not to give JJJ a Loudred just for the Jokes tm. It physically pains me not to. I can see him also having a small bird like a Fletchling. He sends it through the office with little notes that say shit like “get back to work” for when he can’t come out to yell Personally. No one blames the little bird though and most give it a little pet before it flies off again.
Speaking of birds yes Adrian has so many. He’s got maybe a Braviary or a Staraptor that looks just as old as he is. I’m leaning towards old grey shiny Staraptor but I love Staraptor so I’m kind of biased. Smaller bird pokemon probably follow him around when he’s flying and doing crimes, like the little fish that hang out under mantarays and whale sharks. Flying under the shadow of this Bigger Bird who doesn’t do anything to them to protect themselves from Less Friendly Big Birds.
MJ has a Charmeleon definitely. Maybe also a Lillipup but deffo a Charmeleon.
I can see Gwen with dragon types. A little Dratini maybe.
That’s literally all I can think of at this point but like. Spider-Man Pokemon AU.
#loud honking#EXTREMELY long post under cut#Marvel#Pokemon#i've been thinking about this a LOT over the last few months which is why some are SUPER fleshed out#noah fence but half of these pokemon i've come up with i'd do anything for#SABLEYE? YES SABLEYE? I LOVE YOU#i love sableye sm yall#yes ive been typing this out in drafts all day
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skirt chasers — drabble iv
THIS IS A SKIRT CHASERS DRABBLE - FIND THE OTHERS HERE !
SUMMARY Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him.
WARNINGS JK POV!!!, attempted solo masturbation, k*ssing, jk’s extensive knowledge of pornos, grinding, cunnilingus, face sitting, spit kink, light choking, praise kink, self nipple play, a love for boobies, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, i love u kink, its kinda hinted tht oc has a somnophilia kink? not rlly but tagging just in case -_-
RATING m (18+)
WC 6.3k this can't even classified as a drabble anymore wtf
NOTES i have had this in my drafts since may 3. it is december 21. everyone point n laugh. anyway i very much love stimbo sc jk and i think he’s very cool so here’s a whopping 6k of the inner mechanisms of his big nerdy, college hottie brain <3
He doesn’t notice you’ve drifted off until he’s three solid paragraphs into his semester-long research paper. “Babe, can you toss me my charger it’s over…”
Jungkook swears he’s gonna take every single one of those stupid skirts and burn them to ashes. They had done their duty well, had given him the girlfriend of his dreams, but now they were just pushing their luck. What was once the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend, has now become the bane of Jungkook’s existence. He loathed them, he hated them, he could go twenty million decades without ever seeing them again because the torture they inflicted upon him was borderline inhumane.
Holy fuck, he knew you were gorgeous— hello, he was your boyfriend, thinking you were gorgeous was very high on the list of requirements you searched for in someone of his position —but he’s absolutely positive that you’re probably the sexiest woman he’s ever seen in all his twenty-two years. And Jungkook’s seen a lot of porn. Like, a lot.
He can’t help himself. Before Jungkook knows it, he’s rolling his desk chair over to where you’re sprawled across his bed, skin so soft where it presses against his pillow, lips so plush, and he’s pretty sure there’s a tiny, tiny droplet of drool begging to escape from between your puckered lips. Normally, he’d tease you to hell and back for this, knows how flustered you become when he catches you off guard, but today he lets it slide in favor of focusing on something else about your dozing form.
It’s the soft curve of your hips from where you lay on your side, smooth legs tucked close to you, and that goddamn pleated skirt giving you absolutely no protection from the eyes of the world around you. Luckily, he made sure to lock the door to his room when you came over today. And he’s almost positive Taehyung isn’t home anyway. So there’s no potential roommate to see you here, cuddled against Jungkook’s teddy bear, blue lace panties tucked between your folds.
They were his favorite.
Adorable and soft, and he knows that particular style— the cheeky kind —is your preferred style, because it’s the one he sees almost every time the two of you fuck. Seamless, because you hate when they tug against your skin, and baby blue simply because it was your favorite color. He can’t recall the last time they had been so exposed like this.
God, how many times had this same situation occurred? You dropping by to encourage him to do his homework, before eventually falling asleep and leaving him to his own devices. A lot of times, Jungkook guesses, because each and every time you wake up and nab one of his protein bars from the stash by his bed. Jungkook’s gone through four boxes in the last month.
But how many times had this happened with you in a skirt? Never. This was a rarity.
As the year progressed and yours and Jungkook’s relationship reached new levels of intimacy and adoration, Jungkook is sad to say the skirts had begun appearing less and less. It was winter and, unlike the furnace that was Jungkook’s body, he’s pretty sure you were a cold-blooded reptilian at this point, always leeching off of him for warmth. So since you couldn’t stand the cold, the skirts slowly faded into the background, replaced by Jungkook’s second favorite: the leggings.
He was no complainer, Jungkook respected your decisions! He wasn’t going to pressure you into wearing those cute tiny skirts he loved so much just because it fueled some PornHub-esque fantasy in his brain, especially not as a harsh winter descended upon you and the days became colder. He would not risk a sick girlfriend in the name of a horndog daydream.
But holy mother of pearl, Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him.
Sure he’d seen them every time you guys fucked— duh. But this was not the same. It was different, seeing the tender skin of your inner thigh when he knew you weren’t trying to, your skirt stuck between you and the bed as you shifted about. It was different, knowing he could so easily have you, just flip up the skirt and tug your underwear to the side, not having to worry about fighting your leggings or skinny jeans down your legs. It was different and it was good, so painstakingly good, to have you in the skirt, but the worst part was Jungkook couldn’t even do anything because you were fucking sleeping.
He’d subconsciously pictured you like this for weeks, sprawled out on his sheets in the flimsiest clothing and ready for him to just slide right in, but Jungkook was a good boy—you’d told him as much just last week when he’d paid the bus fare for that ragtag group of teenagers, smiling up at him like he was your entire world. Was he sometimes a little too mean, a little too wild? Yes. But at his core, Jungkook lived for your praise. He couldn’t just stomp on that title you’d so lovingly bestowed upon him, a title he’d worked hard for since!
Furthermore, even if Jungkook wasn’t a good boy, to touch you in your sleep just seemed wrong. You’d mentioned in passing once that you wouldn’t mind as long as it was him (“I’m yours,” you had purred at some party, hand crawling down his abdomen, “your doll, remember?”), but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to when you were so vulnerable and just… not there. It wouldn’t feel right to use your body when you weren’t awake, and no amount of encouragement from you would change his mind.
So he does what all good boys do and prepares himself for a quick, self-administered handfuck.
Sue him, his girlfriend was hot!
It’d been a little over two weeks since the last time the two of you had fucked, and it was mostly his fault; clinicals and research papers had practically consumed what little free time he had in his schedule. And if Jungkook remembers correctly, he wouldn’t be that lucky this upcoming week either. Something tells him your period was approaching.
Jungkook doesn’t know what type of sorcery you’ve done to him, but in the time you’ve been dating, it’s become increasingly more and more difficult to nut without you. Whether that be fucking you, listening to your voice, or just imagining your pretty face in his head, you held a monopoly over Jungkook’s libido, one that he feared you’d never let go.
He had years stacked on years of browsing PornHub and Brazzers, can recall experiencing some of the craziest orgasms of his life while watching some girl get fucked. All things come to an end. Ever since he started dating you, not even his favorite video could make him hard anymore. Oh, how the great have fallen.
But with your blue panties before him, his cock hardens by the minute, nearly doubles in size when you move about and sigh a heavenly sound. Frankly, he doesn’t feel bad jerking one off to the thought of you. You were his girlfriend! He knows that you know that you’re the main character of all his right-handed adventures, and you’re not going to be mad at him for jerking off to you now. In fact, Jungkook imagines you’d be mad if he’d woken you up just for some frenzied quickie. This way, he’s blowing off some steam and you’re getting an extra ten minutes of napping. Everyone wins.
He’s barely tugged himself out of the confines of his sweats when a soft mumble of his name has his soul leaving his body. “Kook?”
“Baby,” he exhales, immediately tucking himself back into his underwear before moving closer towards you. You roll onto your back, skirt useless as fuck, he thinks, as it sprawls around your waist. “What’s up?” he murmurs, voice gentle, a hand carding through the nape of your neck because that’s how you always wake him up. Jungkook would be a liar to say it wasn’t one of the best feelings in the world.
You say something, but it’s a mess of gibberish and too quiet for him to understand, before turning on your side again and shuffling closer to him. Jungkook smiles, runs the tips of his fingers over your cheek, before moving to caress your back, massaging some feeling back into your muscles. Some more mumbled words, but this time he deciphers them as something along the lines of “c’mere.”
He chuckles, ducking down to kiss your cheek. “Don’t wanna interrupt your nap, baby,” he hums. “Go back to sleep.”
You whine in protest, suddenly catching his hand in yours. “Please,” you sigh, eyes fluttering open, but they’re unfocused as you gaze at him. Jungkook clenches his teeth. Technically he should be working on that twelve page research paper, and even just trying to jerk off right now would have been a huge setback. Crawling into bed with you, where you’re so sinfully laid out for him to take, would completely offset his plans until tomorrow. He had to be a responsible student here.
“I really gotta finish my paper…” he says, trying to let you down as gently as possible, flashing you an apologetic gaze. He thinks he has it in the bag, and your extended silence almost has him rolling back to his desk, when you suddenly snap into action.
“But what about your dick,” you murmur, and Jungkook chokes.
“My what—?” he splutters, voice a little too high.
You say nothing, craning your neck to release a series of cracks, soft huffs leaving your lips. Jungkook’s on edge the whole time, eyes following the movement of your neck, the hypnotizing expanse of skin that bares itself to him. “Saw your hand down your pants,” you say, eyes blinking open, and though they’re droopy with sleep, at least you can hold them open this time.
Jungkook laughs nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You saw that?” A soft hum. He wants to die. “Ah, baby, don’t worry about it. Know you’re tired, so just nap,” he sighs, caressing the back of your head once again, and he thinks he’s finally convinced you so he lets his guard down.
You moan softly, and he’s almost entirely sure it’s one of those waking up types of sounds, the ones you make when you’re stretching around the bed in the morning. “Want your cock.”
Jungkook swears he’ll die, right here, right now.
He groans, lowers his head to rest on the mattress. “Jesus, fuck, baby,” he huffs, has to count to ten to will the stirring of his slowly hardening cock away for the second time that day. “Don’t say stuff like that when you’re half asleep, please.”
You ignore him, the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist tugging him closer. You barely succeed, muscles still so weak, but Jungkook humors you and rolls his chair right beside your head, where he ducks down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Noooo,” you whine when he draws away too quickly.
A laugh blossoms in his chest, and Jungkook proceeds to rain down a series of kisses on your pretty face before he can stop himself. You melt under his touch, his affection, and Jungkook adores the way your body is so soft and pliant like this, back arching towards him after he places a hand on your waist.
“Come here,” you urge, voice a quiet plea. So soft, so needy.
Jungkook malfunctions for just a second before he’s clambering over you on the bed, manhandling your body until you're both on your sides, facing each other, with you pressed tightly to his chest. Even with your hands brushing up and down his back in the way that sends every nerve in Jungkook’s body tingling, and your leg thrown over his hip, some stupid part of him convinces himself you’re just cold, trying to warm up after walking around campus in that tiny little skirt all day. He cuddles you as best as he can.
And even with his dick twitching in his pants and his caveman instincts yelling at him to thrust up into your inviting core, Jungkook remains as professional as someone in a relationship can be when in bed with their lover. He’s so stuck on his self-control that he almost doesn’t hear the snort you muffle against his neck.
“What are you doing?” you laugh, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Jungkook blinks, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. “Are we gonna fuck or what?”
He chokes. He doesn’t even try to muffle his reaction like other times, because the way you’re looking at him and the heel you press against the back of his thigh preoccupies his thoughts instead. Your hands are still tracing along his back, melting him with your dainty touches. “Baby?” you question after he’s been silent too long, distracted by the way you use that hooked leg to tug your bodies closer.
“You… you’re still asleep,” Jungkook says, though it’s definitely a question.
You scoff, a smile curling around your features. “Mm, definitely not asleep,” you tease, and shift to push him onto his back, wiggling on top of him until those baby blue panties are pressed against his quickly hardening member. “Why? Wanted to touch me when I was asleep?” you continue, and Jungkook’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets.
“No!” he exclaims, hands clutching your hips in alarm. He can tell he surprises you, because your eyes go wide for a brief second. “Never…” he mumbles afterwards, looking away from your imploring gaze. “Only like you when you’re awake.”
You sigh, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek that makes his heart flood with adoration for you. “You’re a good boy, Jungkook,” you say back, just as quietly. “A blueprint for the perfect man.” Another kiss, this time against the corner of his mouth that makes Jungkook’s hands twitch against your sides.
A soft moan tears itself from his throat, fingers digging into your hips as you slowly roll them against him. The heat emanating from your core seeps past the thin barrier of his sweatpants, makes his cock twitch in his boxers. He knows how it feels inside of you, has your body memorized like the back of his hand. But it’s in moments like these that he finds himself aching for you, desperate to feel the fluttering walls of your pussy, the pitiful whimpers that fall from your kiss swollen lips. And, well. The skirt makes it all too easy.
He places two hands on the backs of your thighs, runs them up until he’s pushing your skirt up over your waist. You pull away from his lips with a sneaky little smile, pointer finger stroking down the side of his face lazily. “Mm?” you tease, leaving a coy little peck against his mouth. “Now you wanna touch?” Jungkook rolls his eyes, snaps his teeth at your wandering finger when you draw it too close to his mouth. The giggle you let out is so damn precious, makes him want to put you in a glass case and never let anyone else touch you. Coincidentally, it also makes him want to rail you into the mattress until you cry.
“I’ll fucking ruin you, doll,” he settles on murmuring, subtly pushing you down against him. A soft giggle. Jungkook knows it’s your favorite nickname, even if you won’t admit it. He's the only one allowed to call you it, something about his intentions being pure or whatever, he’s not really sure. Anyway, you’re still so cute and soft on top of him, blinking slowly and prettily, so he’s dragging it out a bit, hoping you’ll become more alert in a few more minutes.
As sleepy as you may be, you never miss out on a chance to rile him up. “As if, doll,” you retort, his nickname for you rolling off your tongue seamlessly. It sounds heavenly, sparks this weird emotion in him that he never considered before. Him, a doll? No way. But there’s something about the sweet lilt of your voice, the starry-eyed gaze you level him with, that has him throwing all reservations aside. Put him on a shelf and call him Barbie, because he would be anything you wanted him to be.
Anyway, Jungkook’s sappy thoughts last all of two seconds before he’s rolling you over, successfully trapping you beneath his body. “Oh, so scary,” you feign, hands fluttering to clutch at your chest.
He glides his hands down your body, let’s them trail over your hip and down the side of your thigh. “Don’t get sassy with me,” he warns, thumb peeking beneath the hem of your skirt. Jungkook really wants to burn the piece of fabric this time, because after all that time it spent torturing him with its halfhearted attempts at covering you, it chooses now to do it properly.
Hands are thrown around his shoulders, the overwhelming scent of your perfume and body wash tickling his nose when you pull him in for another kiss. “Or what?” you purr, irises swirling with lust. “Gonna use your manly man strength to hold me down?”
He shushes you with a kiss, slow and languid just how you like. Your taste is familiar, feels like coming home, so Jungkook can’t be blamed for getting too carried away. It starts gentle— it always does. But then a tiny mewl gets stuck in your throat, the following moan swallowed by his tongue, and Jungkook nearly loses it. He nips at your bottom lip, waits patiently for you to open up for him, and when you do he wastes no time diving in. Your tongue against his is slick and wet, makes the most lewd sound. Your little sharp intakes of air fill the gaps, shuddery breaths that Jungkook takes as a good sign.
He strikes while the iron is still hot.
It’s amidst your lazy kissing that he secures his hands around your waist, two reassuring squeezes thrown your way before he’s abruptly rolling onto his back again. “Kook!” you squeal, clutching at the front of his shirt. A pouty frown paints your face, sleepy eyes narrowing him with a rather unimpressed look, tainted with the barest hints of confusion.
Jungkook grins, reaching back to yank his pillow out from beneath his head. “On my face,” he commands suddenly, and you snort.
“What?” you ask a little incredulously, leaning back to level him with an even more lost expression. “Since when do we do that?”
Jungkook shrugs. “Since I decided twenty seconds ago,” he answers rather bluntly. You still don’t look too convinced. It’s not a position the two of you have ever tried. You’re a little on the sappy side, always like to look at his face while you fuck, hold his cheeks in your palms, kiss him sweetly. On the one hand, Jungkook totally gets it; he’ll proudly admit that the sight of your orgasming face paired with your fantastic tits have done him many favors these past few months.
However, Jungkook is a lover of head. Giving or receiving, it’s very high on his list of sexual acts and whoever invented oral deserved all the praise in the world. Not only did you look drop dead gorgeous with his cock in your mouth— tears trailing down your cheeks, drool clinging to the corners of your lips —but you also looked absolutely sexy receiving it.
Kinda.
Probably.
Okay, so maybe Jungkook can’t really say, considering he always has a hard time catching a glimpse of your face when he’s down there licking and slurping your clit like a madman. Which is what leads him to this exact moment, an experiment weeks in the making. Jungkook has a theory that needs to be tested. “Please ride the fuck out of my face,” he tries, hoping the polite tone will win you over.
He’s met with an eye roll. Still, you’re kinder than you let on. “Okay,” you give in, and Jungkook will remember your heroism for the rest of his life. “But only because being on top is empowering.” He just barely contains an over-enthusiastic fist pump into the air, settling on a rather modest smile that has you leaning down to kiss him again. You reach for the zipper on the side of your skirt. “Just let me—“
“The skirt stays on,” he says quickly, hand on your wrist to stop you from removing his most favorite article of clothing.
“Baby,” you say, giving him a rather serious look. “It’ll cover your face.”
“It won’t,” he urges, reaching for the buttons on your blouse instead. Jungkook has had one too many encounters with tops like these, and has long since learned not to tear them apart like a crazed psycho. As much as he loves the sound of your buttons scattering across his bedroom floor, he can’t say he’s too fond of the scolding he inevitably gets afterwards. Anyway, the shirt comes off and so does your bra, leaving your tits in his face, tiny skirt on your hips. “Get up here,” he murmurs, ushering you up his body until your knees are pressing into the mattress right above his shoulders.
If it was up to Jungkook, he would have just grabbed your hips and shoved his face against your pussy. Luckily, it’s not, and your common sense shines through just in time. “One sec,” you say, and then finally, finally, the blue panties come off.
And then it’s just Jungkook and your glistening pussy.
“Holy fuck,” he groans, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around your thighs. You squeak when he pulls you closer, hand instinctively reaching for the front of your skirt to hold away from his face. The view from here is heavenly, just your swollen clit, gorgeous tits, and shy face.
The muscles in your thighs are a little stiff. Or maybe you’re just nervous. Jungkook isn’t sure, all he knows is that it takes one encouraging tug for you to finally sit on his face. He doesn’t even register the surprised gasp that leaves your throat because he’s too busy tasting your pussy from an all new position. And it’s absolutely amazing.
Something about the position, having you carefully poised above him, does something to Jungkook. He likes to think he knows your body inside and out, knows what makes you melt and what makes you scream. He knows just how to lap at your cunt until you’re cumming, and how many fingers it takes for you to really feel it. But it’s like having you in this position changes all of that, rearranges all the tidbits of information Jungkook has spent months collecting.
(Jungkook is a meticulous man; he’s got a near perfect GPA right now that was the direct result of his carefully crafted note-taking techniques. Whether or not he abused the power of his perfectionist learning abilities to master the mechanisms of his girlfriend’s libido was no one's business but his own.)
One kitten lick against your swollen pearl makes you buck forward, clit brushing against his nose. Jungkook can’t remember you ever doing that on the first lick. “O- oh my—,” you cry, all airy and whiny. Your hand is pressed to the wall behind his bed, the other bunching the front of your skirt just above your mound. He’s rather happy to learn that, just as he’d hypothesized, this position does give him a better view of you.
He’s graced with the sight of your face, twisted up in pleasure. It’s the stereotypical eyes squeezed shut, lip caught between your teeth look. But there’s something different about it knowing that he’s gotten this reaction out of you with his mouth alone.
Jungkook quickly repositions you over him, tugging you back until his tongue is lined up with the front of your slit. You’re so warm down here, make him feel like he’s drowning with your heady scent alone. Tentatively, he lets his tongue dip between your folds, the very tip nudging your swollen clit. A moan tears itself from your throat, the hand that had been flush against the wall suddenly jumping forward to bury itself in his hair. “Oh- oh, fuck,” you shiver, hips jolting forward once more.
You taste good on his tongue, the arousal that coats your lips is sticky and sweet. When he laps his tongue along your folds, quivering hole to stiffened bud, you let out a sob that resonates deeply within Jungkook. And also Jungkook’s cock, which stirs beneath his trousers in excitement. What was once the focus of his mission, a quick handfuck to sedate himself before finishing his research paper, has long since been forgotten. It’s for the greater good, he tells himself, blinking up at you from between your thighs.
Eye contact lasts for exactly three seconds before you’re looking away bashfully, the fist clutching at your skirt trembling against your tummy. You’re so fucking pretty, Jungkook’s heart can’t take it.
And so he sets out on a mission to make you cum as soon as possible, abandoning his slow kitten licks in favor of suctioning his lips around your clit. “Kook,” you wail, tugging at his hair. Whether you do it purposely or not, Jungkook is a little shocked by how good the pain feels. It’s not an emotion he can ponder long, because then you’re using that same grip in his hair to tilt his head backwards, jerkily moving over him.
It’s rough and sudden, the buck against his face, but Jungkook loves it. The drag of your pussy against his lips, the wet glide of your juices smearing across his chin and Cupid’s bow. It all feels so good, and the fact Jungkook is getting a front row seat to the absolutely torn look on your face is just the cherry on top.
Jungkook has seen you make a lot of faces. He’s seen you shiver and drool as he nails you into your bed. He’s seen you sniffle and sob as he slowly fucks you in a rose petal filled bubble bath (a six month anniversary special planned by yours truly). He’s even seen your mirrored reflection fall apart as you bounced away on his lap in front of a mirror.
He’s never seen you like this before.
Needy and desperate, moaning his name softly, practically humping his face in your greed. Tiny skirt clutched against your waist, tits bouncing as you hurriedly grind against him. He has half the mind to burn this scene into his eyelids for the rest of his life.
He’s given up on doing anything with his tongue, simply sticking it out for you to do as you wish. Normally, he’s not a huge fan of letting you do things yourself. After all, Jungkook was your boyfriend. Making you cum was his job. But you’re moving so fast, so frantic, in your mission to cum. So Jungkook sits back and lets you go to town on his mouth as a series of moans spill from your lips.
And then something unforgivable happens.
Jungkook will admit it: he’s staring at you almost a little too dreamily, heart eyes and all. He thinks you’re fucking hot, taste like heaven and have these absolutely delicious boobs bouncing up and down. He’s a little distracted by your glorious figure that he doesn’t notice one crucial bit of information.
Your hand.
The desperate need to cum has your muscles weakening, thighs moving at a latent pace, and, much to Jungkook’s horror, hands trembling. It’s your own pleasure that lets the unimaginable happen: your skirt flutters down. Your grip on it loosens and before Jungkook knows it, the sight of your pretty face and nice tits are gone, snatched away before his very eyes. Even your wet cunt is impossible to see, his world suddenly shrouded in darkness.
Leave it to Jungkook to foil his own horny plan with, well, his horniness. If only he wasn’t so hopelessly in love with the image of you in skirts. Maybe then he could bask in the beauty that was you riding his face.
He acts fast, reaching for the material before he can miss out on anything. But the angle is weird, and without Jungkook’s hands holding your hips, you’re left weakly rolling forward instead. And he’s not the only one frustrated with this turn of events, your face quickly returning to its normal composed form as you level him with a frown. “Everything okay?” you pant.
Everything was not okay, but Jungkook isn’t sure how to tell you that without ruining this delicate moment. So he tries to show you with actions instead, releasing the skirt he’s got in his fist and letting it flutter over his face again. You giggle. “I told you so.”
It takes more willpower than he’d like to admit to pull away from your wet folds, pulling off with a lewd sound that has you biting your lip as you gaze down at him. “I told you so,” he mimics, a little mean but you don’t take it to heart. “Hold your skirt up.”
You hum, the grip on his hair loosening as you push away his dark locks instead. “Mmmm,” you hum. “No.”
“No?” he repeats, actually really scandalized. Okay, so he’s a little spoiled when it comes to you— it’s not his fault! You made him like this, conditioned him to think that you would always give into his every whim because you were just so sweet and considerate and wanted him to be happy. And Jungkook also wants you to be happy, and in his opinion, being happy right now means having him fuck your pretty brains out for ever getting sassy with him.
“I don’t listen to men,” you tease, followed by a cute little nod, skin still a little warm from your looming orgasm. Jungkook takes advantage of your tiny moment of weakness, and strikes like a viper.
A girlish squeal leaves your lips, hands stretching outwards as he knocks you backwards onto the mattress. “Jungkook,” you gasp, sprawled out artfully, beautifully, over his sheets now. He doesn’t waste a second longer, crawling over your body until you’re a shivering mess beneath him.
Hand against your throat, the other blindly reaching for the front of his sweatpants. “What is it, doll?” he drawls meanly, reveling in the way your eyes roll back when his newly-freed cock lands against your slit. A choked gasp leaves your throat, lashes fluttering wildly until Jungkook loosens his grip.
You’ve done a nice job riling yourself up, lips squelching wet and loose when he runs the tip of his cock along them. Your knees are pulled up for him, spread perfectly for him to fit between. You’re so good for him, Jungkook feels a little bad for how hard he’s going to fuck you now.
The sympathy doesn’t last long.
Once upon a time, you had been the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend. Had picked him up from class, encouraged him to do his homework, wore these cute little skirts around campus. Deep down inside, Jungkook knew everyone else was jealous of him— you were just so pretty and cute, a girl straight out of everyone’s dreams.
Until he sunk his horny claws into you. Jungkook will be the first to admit he spends a little too much time browsing porn sites— he’s a man, cut him some slack —which had never caused him any problems before. Even when the two of you were just friends (pining ones at that), you had never seemed even remotely affected by his extensive pornographical knowledge. It was a known fact among your friend group that Jungkook’s best friend was his right hand.
But then, of course, you started dating Jungkook and it was like a save file of all his horniest fantasies was downloaded directly into your brain. Which leads him to this.
“Spit in my mouth,” you shiver, got these huge, watery eyes pointed his way. His cock twitches.
There’s a little groan that tears itself from his throat when he leans forward, cock sliding along your folds, to grasp your chin between his fingers. “Open,” he commands, and you do. Your lower lip quivers, tongue pressed against it as you wait for Jungkook to spit down your mouth. He can’t say he regrets letting you peek through his porn stash, not when it leads to this, you whimpering at the hot glob of saliva he shoots down your throat. “Filthy,” he pants, memorizing the movement of your throat when you swallow like the good girl you are.
Before he can write another twelve sonnets about that dazed look on your face, he’s roughly grabbing at your thigh. You whine, limbs so pliant beneath his touch, letting him hike your knee over his forearm as he tugs you closer. “Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to align himself with your quivering hole. You’re still so wet, make the most lewd sound when he sinks into you. Not that Jungkook really hears it, the sound of your strained moans practically drowning everything else out.
“Fuck,” you cry, one hand clutching at his forearm, the other toying with your breast. It’s a magnificent sight, and Jungkook is suddenly feeling a little cocky when he realizes he’s the only one who gets to see this. It’s this presumptuous nature that fuels the first round of thrusts into your cunt, fast and full. He makes sure you feel every inch of him, tip to base, as he pistons his hips forward. “J— Jungkook,” you pant, back arching beneath him.
You take it so well, walls sucking him in every time he draws back out. “I’ve got you, doll,” he moans, hiking your leg further over his shoulder. Every roll of his hips has your tits bouncing back and forth, lower lip as well with the dopey, open-mouthed look you got on for him. And the damned skirt that got him here, fucking you with a punishing pace, sits perfectly around your waist. He has half the mind to take it off for you, briefly wonders if it hurts, but just looking at it reminds him of about thirty-seven pornos he’s seen. So it stays on, works alongside your lovestruck face to actively rewrite all those pornos anew with you starring in them instead.
It sure helps when you start your usual mindless babbling. “I love you,” you gasp, face screwed up in pleasure. “I- I love you so much.”
He’s contemplating doing a study on you and your weird mid-fuck confessions. You do this a lot, and while Jungkook doesn’t mind, it sure does leave him curious. “Love you too, baby,” he says anyway, repositioning his arms so he can hold your waist with both hands.
“Really?” you ask, voice so whiny, eyes brimming with tears. From emotion or your need to cum, Jungkooks not sure. (Hence the need for a study!)
Another brutal thrust that has you moaning loudly. “Really,” he reassures you, glancing down to watch his cock sink into your hole as he picks up the pace. Your arms are practically limbless, and his stomach is beginning to feel tight. The end was soon. “Love your pretty little face.”
Another whine, your fingers pulling at your pebbled nipples. “M- My pretty face?” you whimper, blink these long lashes up at him. They make Jungkook go a little mad, bring on a wave of jackhammer thrusts that cut your moans into choppy little cries instead.
“Prettiest girl I know,” he groans, not once stopping the movement of his hips. You’re quivering like a leaf beneath him, your entire body locking up as Jungkook guides you toward orgasm. “A fucking doll, baby— so beautiful for me,” he praises.
It’s exactly what you want to hear— secretly, Jungkook hypothesizes that you’re a little bit of an attention whore —crying out when he slows to a grind against you. Each roll of his hips has him rubbing over your swollen bud, leaves you trembling until you’re eventually unraveling beneath him. “Oh- Oh, fuck— Jungkook—“ you sob, writhing beneath him as you cream his cock.
Your tits look amazing, nipples stiff from your arousal and all the attention you’d been giving them. Your features soften, gasps framed by your pillowy lips. As Jungkook has said before, your pretty face was the most dangerous weapon.
He manages a few more pistons of his hips, mostly for reputation sake, before he’s eventually pulling out. His right hand, once the sole hero of his solo sessions, makes a valiant return now as he jacks himself off over you. It takes a few harsh pulls of his cock until he’s spurting his jizz over you, painting your tummy and your tits in white ribbons of cum. You flinch, a tiny whimper leaving your throat at the mess he makes. “Fuck,” he groans one last time.
When it’s over, you have the audacity to shyly pull down the front of your skirt. As if your tits aren’t out and about, but Jungkook pretends he doesn’t see it. Instead, he channels his energy into peppering your face in kisses. “Best girl,” he praises, even though he knows you hate the nickname. “My beautiful feminist queen.”
A pinch against his cheek. It hurts like hell, but he endures it for now, still very much in love with your performance today. “Get me a towel,” you huffily ask, uncomfortable with the jizz sticking to your tummy, as if he didn’t spit in your mouth a few minutes ago.
His research paper is waiting for him at his desk, the materials he’d spent weeks collecting waiting to be typed up. But his girlfriend is so soft and sleepy, asking him to stay for another nap.
There was never a choice.
Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.
#networkbangtan#bangtanhq#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook smut#jjk♡#jjk smut#jungkook fic#jeon jungkook fic#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x reader#bts smut#bts fic#bts jungkook#mine#skirtfic
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HR Wells x Reader - Reversal of Denouement
*A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to its rightful owner.
**Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!
***I’d also like to thank @grimtamlain-writes for being my beta reader.
Word Count: 8251
MASTERLIST
A low groan left HR's lips. His body felt numb, his chest ached - tingled as his heart beats steadily. Is it beating? The darkness of his eyelids eased the stinging coming from his mind – it wasn’t so bright. The headache formed there. His body screamed at him as the novelist made the slightest of movement. His left shoulder in particular had protested in desperate agony. He couldn’t move it very much, the area succumbed to restraints of some sort. HR’s throat felt raw as his body throbbed, the blood coursing meticulously through his blood vessels. The sound of a soft voice greeted his ears, but his eyes refused to open.
"I... you, HR... even if... see it." The voice was so familiar, so gentle. So sweet. "Should... better." A drop of water hit his numbed hand, static still prominent there from the little movement his body had done. “I wish…” The dark-haired doppelganger could only understand fragments of what the speaker was saying. He felt a pressure on his hand, tender skin holding onto his before something tickled his forehead. Feather-light. What was it? Who was it? A few moments passed and he heard nothing, the novelist only assumed that the voice’s owner had left. He didn’t want to be alone right now though, not with the darkness.
It had become unbearable.
Since... Since when did…? How...? Oh. Right. Savitar... Am I dead? Is this where spirits wait for their turn to pass into their designated afterlife? Have I really...? Events from earlier resurfaced to his mind, his senses coming together. Right, had to protect Iris. For Barry – it was my fault Savitar had gotten to her. My big mouth. Even if Barry didn't really see me as a helpful friend. At least... At least I proved Savitar wrong, who ironically is a version of Barry. That's hella twisted. He huffed out a breath before venturing back into the calmness of sleep. Maybe a little more rest will help?
***
HR cracked an eye open: this time, harsh filtered light had greeted him. The novelist grunted in pain, adjusting himself slightly to assess where he was. What day was it? What was the time? How long have I been here? A yawn left his lips this time, his throat and mouth as dry as a desert.
“Well look who finally decided to wake up?” HR’s eyes met Cisco’s, who stood with a tablet in hand. “How’s sleeping beauty feeling?”
The Wells doppelganger cleared his throat. “Like I’ve gotten assaulted by an Amtrack bus, and not the good kinds.” HR’s baby blue eyes scanned the room, landing on the flower vase that was set on a table near him. Blue forget-me-knots and pink hydrangeas stood proudly in their vases, nurtured well. HR felt his heart swell, his eyes not daring to leave the delicate petals that accented the med bay in better tones. Cisco handed him a cup of water to which HR downed it immediately.
“Amtrack does trains.”
“Not on my Earth, Francisco.” The author couldn’t help but ask, his eyes lingering on the flowers once more. “Did Tracy bring those?”
Cisco pursed his lips, an odd look present on his face. He wanted to tell HR, but… “No. Um, she didn’t.” Tracy had been visiting, though it had become some sort of a nuisance to all her complaining at this point. She hadn’t even known HR for that long, anyway.
“Oh?” His shoulders dropped subtly in disappointment. “They’re beautiful, I was just wondering and…”
“Let’s just say, a special someone’s been… dropping by and bringing a new flower each day. That’s all you’re getting from me, Aurora.” Cisco reasoned with the Wells doppelganger. The mechanical genius knew, but it wasn’t his place to say. It killed him, but… “I wouldn’t move around too much, if I were you. You’ve got a fractured shoulder and that chest wound. I’ve been told to relay the message that you’re to be on strict bed rest until that shoulder further heals.” HR lowered his gaze to see the cross-body sling. He clenched his slinged hand and unclenched it to bring some feeling into the limb.
“What about my chest?”
“Miraculously, that’s been healing really well since day one.” Cisco kept the talk real, showing the injured doppelganger the schematics and pictures. “You got lucky that it missed your heart by a centimeter.” A stab wound like that should have… I wonder if she knows that I know.
HR blinked at the seriousness in his injury, the looming idea of death from his decision. “How long was I out?”
“A week and a half.”
“What?” HR’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I-”
“HR!” Tracy’s sudden voice pierced the room, stunning Cisco and triggering an ache in HR’s head. The grad scientists shuffled over to him, both forgetting that Cisco was in the room. “HR, my love, how are you? Are you feeling okay? Is there any pain?” He continued checking his friend’s vitals and adjusting dosages to the IV and morphine administered – as per your request. The room was growing ever louder with HR and Tracy. Tracy embraced him, minding his injuries as she continued to fuss over him. It made the Wells writer smile, yet… his heart didn’t swell as much as it used to.
Odd.
Cisco sent you a quick text while the two were preoccupied, but you were already at the Labs. You stopped just outside the entrance, the wall and dimly light hallway obscuring you from who remained in the med bay. They wouldn’t be able to see you from where you stood. A shaky breath left you as you clutched the Freesia flower in hand. Your heart shriveled in your chest as you backtracked. Hearing his voice is enough. After all, with Tracy around you couldn’t be near him – those dirty and hateful looks she’d send you. Best to keep my distance, I guess. You couldn’t help but sneak a peek at him though, the man who had unknowingly captured your heart and would never reciprocate your love. You pushed down the lump in your throat. Hastily, you sent Cisco a text to check on the flowers. Silently, you trailed away from the med bay and to the upper levels of STAR Labs. I wonder if he liked the flowers. Standing at such altitude with the wind blowing lightly had calmed you a bit. Looking down at the flower, you gripped it tightly before you began to pick off the petals one by one. The little moments you had with the goofy novelist surfaced to the forefront of your mind with each petal you held. Your little curious escapades. The little talks. The nights you’d visit him when Tracy wasn’t around.
“He loves me, he loves me not,” You murmured, a stray tear trickled down your cheek. The freesia symbolizes unconditional love and honor. “He loves me, he loves me not,” Your voice cracked as more tears fell. “He loves me, he loves me not…”
***
A frown presented itself on HR’s lips as he tilted his head to crack his neck. The crack relieved him tremendously. It didn’t make sense. The novelist mused to himself, setting aside the current chapter draft he was working on. The voice I heard was… different. It didn’t sound like Tracy’s. HR couldn’t get that voice out of his mind – the tenderness that was laced in the tone of that voice. Nothing like the slight shrill in Tracy’s. He eyed the flowers once more that day, their presence was prominent. If Tracy hadn’t brought those, then who had?
The team had helped situate HR in his room in order to vacate the med bay should another imminent event occur. He had overheard Cisco tell Wally that you were preoccupied with something in Star City – a bit of disappointment twinged inside him. HR had taken up doing bits of physical therapy for the rest of his body without moving his shoulder as much. His shoulder and arm remained in a crossbody sling. The flowers sat on his bedside counter; he tended to them as best as he could with the limited movement he had. Tracy protested that they don’t need to be around, but the novelist was vehement on keeping the plants. HR won’t deny the fact that he had gotten annoyed several times with her around when he needed thinking space for his writing. He couldn’t write with noise and nonsensical chatter, especially if it’s mainly coming from someone who doesn’t want to really listen to his input. She’d go on and on about her scientific research and such, but wouldn’t hear a word from HR regarding his writing. The longer the novelist was confined to his room for rest, the more he had time to think – to contemplate. Yes, he liked Tracy, but… it just seemed that she didn’t really see HR. She does all the talking; she doesn’t really ask about how I feel about things or ask me about my life, even things about Earth-19… It’s like she doesn’t see me for anything other than a pretty face. It’s not even my face that Tracy sees, just Randolph’s. Was I too quick to jump at the first person who showed interest in me? Had I rushed into ‘forever’ with her?
He tabled those thoughts for now. HR reached for his laptop; one hand opened it to start it up. While the device loaded, he grabbed his black-clear glasses and set them on his face. If anyone saw him as such, they wouldn’t be able to tell the physical difference between him and his handsome, yet grumpy doppelganger. Except for the eyebrow scar, but that was obscured by the glasses. HR did a couple of searches with a concentrated look. Surely, it was the person with that… angel-like voice.
“Hydrangeas,” HR whispered as his eyes skimmed over the text that had popped up. “The hydrangea represents gratitude, grace and beauty. It also radiates abundance because of the lavish number of flowers and the generous round shape. Its colors symbolize love, harmony and peace.” The Wells doppelganger scrolled further. “Pink hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotions.” Interesting. HR continued his research, glancing at the other flower type that resting in the vase. “Forget-me-nots symbolize true love and respect. When you give someone these tiny blooms, it represents a promise that you will always remember them and will keep them in your thoughts. They are also considered a symbol of fidelity and faithfulness.” A particular link caught his eye, he clicked on it. The novelist read to himself the text once more, “Based on Christian lore, the story about forget-me-nots is that God was walking in the Garden of Eden. He saw a blue flower and asked it its name. The flower was a shy flower and whispered that he had forgotten his name. God renamed the flower as forget-me-not saying that He will not forget the flower.”
HR swallowed thickly; contrary to popular belief around here, he wasn’t stupid. Sure, he wasn’t a science-based genius, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t an expert on other aspects of life and had basic common sense. The author was emotionally intelligent and intact with the world around him. These flowers weren’t picked out on accident. But who would do that? Who doesn’t want me to forget about them? The dark-haired man shook his head slightly as he shut his laptop. A surge of sadness welled inside him at the notion of ‘being forgotten’. Who had he done that to? He’d get to the bottom of this mystery in due time. Right now, I need to jog my memory on what I was writing. A hand found a rough draft paper, his eyes scanned over the words he had typed out. His brows creased as the written notes he’d made on the paper as well. (Y/N) … I had… What had I been writing about again? The novelist read each line, each note he had made no drafts and scratch paper.
The hairs at the back of his neck stood up as realization hit him the more he had read on. The drafts, the notes, all of it – the little novel he had been writing regarding his adventures. But this particular part of his story – the ‘angel’ in his story. The one who stuck by him since coming here, the one who had given him a safe space… And the one he hadn’t seen since waking up. How could he forget? HR lowered the paper; his eyes became half-lidded as guilt shot through him. Before Barry had gone to the future and gotten hints of Tracy with her Speed Bazooka, HR had been working on his book. A book that he had pushed off to stick with Tracy and help in any way that he can to make the speed weapon possible. He had gotten distracted from doing the things he loves. A few conjectures arose in his mind as he slipped his glasses off, one arm end pressed to his lips. His heart hammered into his chest; you were among the last faces he had seen before passing out that night.
The irony. How could I forget that (Y/N) was the ‘angel’ in my story?
***
“Look at you, up and at ‘em.” Cisco strolled into the lounge with a cheeky grin. The mechanical genius didn’t take HR for granted anymore, not with the stunt he pulled. No, Cisco willingly checked up on him – not just for you, but for himself. HR had truly become one of his close friends in the end, especially with all the advice about Gypsy. “What are you cooking up this time?”
“Just an omelet with a side of bacon and toast, Francisco,” HR turned to the mechanical engineer who continued to tinker away at the schematics to get Barry out of the Speedforce. He offered Cisco some with a gesture only for the scientist to politely decline. “I haven’t seen (Y/N) anywhere. Um, is she also…?”
“Oh, you know how she’s like. Either up in the vents or chilling in her birds’ nest on the roof. And on that note, our resident hummingbird has become quite the firecracker.”
HR raised an eyebrow at his friend. “How so?”
“She punched Savitar square in the face then decked him multiple times over when Barry brought him in. Harry had to be the one to pull her away – well, more like carry her away kicking and screaming bloody murder at him. It sounded badass; wish I had been there to see it.”
The Wells doppelganger gritted his teeth at the mental image of Harry carrying you – touching you. The thought ruffled his feathers for some reason. HR expertly masked his irritation, turning the stove off and assembling the food on his plate. “Why?”
“Because he hurt you, HR.”
“…”
“He almost killed you.” And that was unforgivable, especially to her. “We almost lost you. She almost lost you.”
A rough sigh escaped HR as Cisco had sent him a knowing look before exiting the STAR Labs lounge. The Earth-19 man chewed on the inside of his cheek. Only a fool would misunderstand Cisco’s subtle intentions. HR knew what he had to do – he’d been reflecting on his time here, thinking about the people around him, about the relationships he’s formed. The novelist glanced outside – the sun shined, the birds chirped, and the trees rustled with the wind.
And the world continues to move on.
***
“When are you going to tell him?”
“…” You tensed at the abrupt voice. You snapped your head up, eyes darting to find Cisco approaching you with pocketed hands in his gray-black jacket. He wore a Bulbasaur shirt. The clouds surged by with the intensity of the breeze. Your hair blew over your shoulders slightly. Tilting your head, you turned back to watch the city. Days had passed and you refused to see HR, content on what Cisco had been telling you. He’d been recovering tremendously well, but… you didn’t really want to hear about what he and Tracy were up to. It wounded you. “Tell who, what?”
“You know exactly who I’m talking about, Ms. I’m-going-to-put-my-feelings-in-a-box.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ohohohoho, no. I am tired of the love eyes, the lingering gazes, the pining. It ends.” Your best friend came to sit down next to you with that frustrated look on his face. “I know you have powers.” Your heart stopped in your chest at his accusation. “I know you used your powers to heal HR.” You bit down on your lip, not wanting to validate his statement. Cisco saw “I analyzed the wounds, looked at his healing at a microscopic level. I’m not Caitlin, but even I can pick up a few things. His cells were excelled to heal, but there were residues of your genetic markers at the wound point. You stitched his wounds together, cell-by-cell. My point is: why didn’t you say anything? Your powers are a-”
“-A curse.”
“What?”
“They’re a curse.” You threw a hard look at Cisco, making sure your hands wouldn’t touch him. “I can’t be playing God, Cisco. And… it’s unpredictable, volatile. I could either heal the life in my hands or take it away. I could rip someone ‘cell-by-cell’, Cisco. There’s no ‘in between’, not this time. He got lucky with my powers. He got lucky I didn’t make things 100% irreversible.”
“But why didn’t you say anything?” Cisco eyed the gloves you wore; it wasn’t the season for leather gloves.
“Because I didn’t want to give anyone false hope.”
“You don’t want to give yourself false hope, you mean.”
“…I can’t even heal a plant, Cisco. No matter how hard I tried, it wilted further. It’s a curse.”
“That’s not guaranteed every time, you know. It takes practice – discipline to get your powers to work with you instead of for you.” He nudged your shoulder with his, turning his gaze to the flock of birds drifting through the wind. “You know, he broke up with Tracy.”
“Ok?”
“Happened a week ago. She didn’t take it well and let me tell you. Tracy Brand was livid – the rage and yelling were off the charts. I think she has Harry beat. I knew it wasn’t going to last anyway, it was too superficial to begin with.”
“Uh huh.” You tried to sound uninterested, but deep down you were relieved. You heard a little ring in your ear. You wondered…
“She’s gone, won’t be coming here anymore.
“Ok.”
“So, go make your move.”
You turned abruptly to face him. “Cisco, have you thought that maybe HR doesn’t want to dive into a relationship right away? That… maybe he needs space to focus on himself?” All were things you had contemplated for yourself before.
“And what better way to do that than with a new roommate.”
“Excuse me?”
“Surprise, you’re getting a temporary roommate while we fully fix up things around the labs. I volunteered you since you have the space and the patience to deal with HR.” Your blood froze in your veins.
“Francisco Ramon, I am going to-”
“-Thank me, you’re going to thank me.” He had already breached away before you had the chance to strangle him. Heat rushed to your cheeks at the idea of HR living with you, even if it was a temporary living arrangement. You scolded your heart for beating loudly in your chest. One hand gripped tightly to your other. An audible sigh escaped you as your mind played with the idea.
Shit, what am I going to do?
***Day 1***
Cisco blew out an exhausted breath, setting down another box on top of a box in the guest room. You and the mechanical genius had been breaching back and forth with HR’s things as said novelist was crippled. His arm would take about another four weeks to heal. About 20 percent of shoulder fractures are displaced and may require some type of manipulation to restore normal anatomy. Occasionally the rotator cuff muscles are injured or torn at the same time as the fracture. Fortunately for HR, his rotator cuff muscles weren’t as damaged. This can further complicate the treatment. Therefore, in that time, HR would just be handling the lighter stuff, bless his heart. The novelist entered the room with his black backpack slung over his functioning shoulder – it was the last thing that he could carry.
“I think there’s one more box left,” HR pointed with his thumb towards his back direction, the breach closing behind him.
“I’ll go get it, not a problem. Why don’t you two get started on unpacking, huh?” HR shrugged with one shoulder and stepped away to set his bag down by the bed. Cisco threw a cheeky look your way when HR had his back turned, his eyebrows wiggling. ‘Have fun love birds,’ the scientist had mouthed at you. You flicked him off with a deadpanned look. Instantly you dropped it when the Wells doppelganger turned as Cisco snickered before he breached away. He gave you a confused look, but you waved it off.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For allowing me to stay obviously. And for all the help since I’m, well, a bit tangled up at the moment.”
He was referring to the cross-body sling that clung onto him like a spider. HR rubbed the back of his neck, and you didn’t miss the way his bicep flexed at the motion in that gray short-sleeve shirt. Calm the fuck down, it’s just a toned muscle. You’ve seen things like that before. The puppy-like smile HR sent you had your cheeks warming up. The gentle smile that made your heart melt all over again. You cleared your throat as you reached for a box. “It’s no big deal, HR.” Undoing the tape seal with scissors, you opened the box- and the first thing you see are a pair of handcuffs accompanied by a silky black blindfold.
“What’s in the box?”
A little noise left you as you shut the flaps of the box, trying to seal it again. The flaps remained downward in the box. “Nope, nothing. Just some clothes here. I’m going to get that one box from the living room.” You had backtracked right into the door, your nose throbbed in response at the collision. “Ow,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing the skin.
“You ok?”
“I’m fine,” your response was quick, but not rude. A deep chuckle made its way to your ears as you scrambled out the room, your heart hammering in your chest. Your thoughts scolded you for being so awkward and flustered around him. Be cool, just chill out… The man you’re hopelessly in love with is just living with you temporarily, it’s not like anything will amount from this. You picked up the last box in the living room, hoping that just clothes would be in here and not anymore kink toys. I mean… I have toys, too. AW SHIT, I HAVE TO HIDE THEM!
HR’s eyes never left you as you made your panicked exit. He let out a little breath before shuffling over to the box you had been attending to. Immediately, he face-palmed hard when he had opened it with one hand. His face felt impossibly hot at what you had seen. She must think I’m an idiot or something. His mind thought back to when you helped him shop for some new clothes then it had gotten ruined from a meta. His hand fell away from his face, the image of your kind grin imprinted in his mind. I am an idiot, though. A fool.
Once Cisco returned, you three continued unpacking HR’s things for the time he’d spend here. The labs were still in ‘piss-poor’ shape according to Cisco and that he’ll need to consult with Harry and Wally regarding repairs.
“HR, how are you showering?”
“Um, like a normal person?” A dumbfounded look crossed HR’s features as he set the plate of sandwiches down. The novelist had knitted his eyebrows at Cisco. He had taken up to experimenting in the kitchen when he wasn’t writing. The tea and coffee were still brewing in your kitchen.
“No, I mean with how your shoulder is injured,” Cisco snuck an evil look at you, you returned it with a glare, “must be hard handling it alone.” You knew exactly where this dumbass wanted to take this conversation, so you stayed silent as to not get caught in the crossfire.
HR thought to himself for a moment. “Just a bit, but I’ve gotten used to the mild discomforts and pain. I can mostly reach everything thanks to my long limbs. But I think the nice thing is that it’s an internal issue, not an external one. An external injury or wound would require me to really have help with showering that way the area doesn’t get infected or irritated with the contents of soaps.” A laugh fell from his lips, but his mind wondered what his friend was playing at while you were around.
“I’m just saying, if you ever need a hand well,” Cisco trailed off with a smirk, chomping on his third sandwich.
Oh, I see. Devious, but a futile effort. “I’ll make sure you’re the first one I ask for help,” HR teased with a smirk of his own for Cisco to drop his in disgust. A cough escaped you, which had HR’s eyes land on you. Your eyes met for a moment before you deviated your gaze. HR felt hypnotized for a moment. Hm… The engineer quickly recovered from HR’s snide remark.
“Alright kids, I’ll be going now. The labs require some diligent work that I, a capable and distinguished engineer, could only do.”
“Yet, we still have the occasional security issues,” You sipped your tea once the snarky comment was out. HR stifled a chuckle, but you heard it. The corners of your mouth lifted slightly at the notion.
“Hey, that’s not fair. They always come up with something new to invade our space by.” Cisco pointed a finger at you, mocking a hurtful expression on his face. It dropped into a sneaky smile. “Make good choices and always use protection, you two!” He breached away before you could throw your cup at him.
***Multiple Days Pass***
Through his time here, you noticed HR fueled to write what’s on his mind in the guest room. You could only assume that he continued his adventure story. Sometimes he would venture out for some coffee or take a walk to give his creativity a break. Keeping that in mind, you gave HR the space he needed as well as all noises to a minimum. You knew he liked the quiet atmosphere to pour his heart and soul into words as he did research for a scene. Pulling your jacket on, you compiled a list of groceries before you stepped out of your apartment. Locking the door, you headed out to the store picking up a few necessities as well as some snacks for HR. Like Harry, the novelist can easily lose himself in his task – which meant that he tended to forget about eating and such. You found a bag of Jitters coffee beans, adding it to your cart of items. Buying some snacks and fruit, you’d leave a note in the kitchen of the snacks when he emerged from his writing cave.
On the way back, you stopped by at Iris’ studio to check up on her. A few groceries for her as well were in hand. Cecile and you did your best to visit Iris. But you can’t deny that you blamed her to a certain extent. Had she spoken up once she had left Savitar’s place disguised as HR, HR wouldn’t have been hurt that night on Infantino Street. Surely, she could have contacted her father or Cisco or something. The transition could have been smoother. HR wouldn’t have been… The journalist was faring; she pushed through the pain and as Barry had told her ‘to keep living’. So, Iris did. She hadn’t been herself since Barry went into the Speedforce – she pushed too much, the smile wouldn’t reach her eyes sometimes. You sympathized; she lost the love of her life. But you almost had too.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine, just… taking it one day at a time.” You nodded at her response, a small smile on your face. “How are things with you and HR? I heard of the temporary living conditions.”
“It’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m in my bubble and he’s in his doing his writing.”
“Right. Nothing going on whatsoever?”
“Iris.”
Iris set her cup of hot chocolate down and raised both hands in mock defeat. “We all saw it. We all see it.”
“See what?”
“How smitten you are for him.”
“I’m not-”
“-Don’t say you’re not. If you weren’t you, Harry wouldn’t have to pry you off Savitar before you clawed his eyes out.”
“…” You just looked into your tea, the honey that settled at the bottom. Iris placed a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t look at her.
“The heart will want what it wants, (Y/N). Pushing your feelings into a box and denying it out loud won’t change things.”
“I know.”
And my heart wants him, over and over again. Even if he can’t see me.
***
HR tapped his pencil against the desk at a steady pace. His mind wouldn’t focus on the words in front of him, on the scene he wanted to set. Instead, it kept drifting further from it. Further towards you: your eyes, your smile, the kindness that you held; the serenity that your existence held as the world continued to turn and chaos had unfolded at each turn. HR didn’t see much of you while he was here, the novelist missed your company. You were here, but you weren’t really here. You were either in your room or at the balcony with a book or on the couch with your Switch. He didn’t want to bother you, but… sometimes HR just wanted to sit beside you and pull you close to talk. To hold you in his arms and ask you about your day, to understand what you were thinking. HR cracked his back in a stretch from where he sat on his bed, being mindful of his injured shoulder. It didn’t hurt as it had originally done a few weeks back. The Wells doppelganger noticed that you were careful to avoid touching him or him touching you. Not even a hug that you used to graciously give him. You were especially guarded with your hands. A rough sigh left him as he threw his pencil down. The frustration was setting in, he was getting nowhere. You consumed his thoughts. HR wondered if you were revolted by him but doesn’t verbalize his thoughts to you. He didn’t think you’d give him your truthful answer. Maybe she is revolted by me. She did find the cuffs and the blindfold… No, she knew about the cuff stage thing well before that.
The sound of the front door greeted his ears followed by the soft tune of music. A frown made its way onto his face. Might as well take a break. HR stretched once more when he fully stood up, a little noise of relief left his lips. He cracked his back once more before smelling himself. For safe measure, the novelist sprayed a bit of cologne on himself and turned off the candle he had on. He mentally noted to take a shower after dinner since his last was yesterday. He liked the feeling of being clean, to be honest. HR carded a hand through his hair. I need a haircut soon, too. Yeesh, I feel like I’m letting myself go. Once I’m all healed it’s back to proper cuts and the labs’ recreation room. He wanted to go back to lifting weights and doing yoga for body stability purposes – especially now because of his shoulder. HR rested a hand on his chest, the wound had healed completely, but a scar remained. Upon entering the kitchen, he saw the groceries on the table and heard you whisper along with the lyrics. The music was set to a low level that your whispers were audible enough. He watched you sway a bit with the tune.
So please don't break my heart
Don't tear me apart
I know how it starts
Trust me I've been broken before
Don't break me again
I am delicate
Please don't break my heart
Trust me I've been broken before
The guitar tune pulled at his heart, feeling the raw emotion behind the lyrics. He eyed you for a moment. HR cleared his throat to make his presence known, he knew you didn’t like to be snuck up on. However, a little gasp left you from where you were. “You went out shopping?”
You looked up from where you crouched to put away the cereal. “Uh yeah, we were running low on some stuff.” You shut the cabinet and went to the other items you had bought. The music continued to delicately play.
“Need any help?”
“Um, sure. Uh, just set these into the cabinet on the left.” Normal, be normal. He’s not going to eat you or anything. Distance is good. Distance keeps you safe. You didn’t meet his eyes, the eyes that’d pull you in and never let you out – your heart shook with him here and the song that played. You were hoping HR wouldn’t come out while you prepped dinner to have a sort of peace of mind. The next song played before you could stop it-
My last made me feel like I would never try again
But when I saw you, I felt something I never felt
Come closer, I'll give you all my love
If you treat me right, baby, I'll give you everything
“I like this song,” HR started as he was finishing up with putting his side of the groceries away. Another guitar-like song that brought out the soft feelings of love and rejection. HR mused to himself if fate had planned this out. If this was some sort of sign or a cruel joke… You had stopped yourself from clicking the button to skip the song at his comment. You don’t know what possessed you to let him indulge in another song that you’ve cried to late at night. “Hey, I can cook dinner tonight. I have something I’ve been wanting to try. I’m not that crippled so I can manage with a few cookware.” HR chuckled to himself, a goofy grin on his face. Your heart leapt in your chest; his grin caused a small smile to pull at your lips. “You can wash up first?”
You swallowed thickly, your eyes meeting his icy blues. You felt your cheeks warm up slightly as the nerves crawled up your spine. “Oh, ok. Cool, yeah. Can’t wait to see what you cook up.” You nodded, ducking your head away and shuffling out of the kitchen with that shy smile on your face. You missed the longing look he had sent you as you fastened your steps to head to your room.
God I love that smile. What goes on in that little head of yours? We used to be so close… before Tracy came into the picture. HR pulled out the spices and the chicken breast. He shook his head and proceeded to prep the food with his one useful hand. I need to consult Francisco.
***
“We need to talk,” HR’s voice broke the silence in the side lab of the Cortex. He had breached to the labs using the Breach Extrapolator after he had showered and such. His damp hair was pushed back in HR’s normal style.
“About what?” Cisco raised a concerned eyebrow at the writer, stopping what he had been doing.
“(Y/N).”
A nervous laugh left Cisco as he went back to attempting to make the necessary modifications to the Speed Bazooka. Tracy was reluctant to help the mechanical engineer after the breakup. “What about (Y/N)?” Cisco put down his screwdriver. “Did you do something weird to her?”
“What? No! I- we used to be closer. We always talked, we’d hang out after a long day here at the labs.”
“Uh huh.”
“And, maybe it’s just me, but things have changed.”
“How so?” Cisco was wondering what conclusion HR was leading himself to.
“Things changed when Tracy came into the picture.”
Cisco made a little ‘o’ with his mouth with a little nod before closing it. He pushed a rough sigh past his lips, he was getting really tired of this puppy love game. “Why do you think that?”
“Francisco, she flinches when I get close – almost when I touch her… Does she hate me?”
“I think you and I know the answer to that one. But I think the real question should be: Why do you care so much? Why does it bother you? Do you love her, HR?”
The novelist tensed a bit. “…” HR pursed his lips as Cisco walked around the table that the speed weapon was mounted on. Blueprints were scattered on one table while the glass board held variables and equations he could not decipher. “What?”
“I said what I said,” the mechanical genius smoothly responded. One look at HR and Cisco knew that he was baffled by his forward words. But they needed to be said. “Now run along and use that head of yours to think about what your heart wants. Barry isn’t going to get himself out of the Speedforce.”
***
Cisco’s words mulled through HR’s mind as he breached back to your apartment’s living room. Only the lamp light on the side table was on. HR’s eyes landed on you, who laid on the couch with the book you had been reading on the back ledge of the couch. The novelist took off his shoes and set down his bag. He had detoured to the bookstore, looking for the next installment of your current book. The Wells doppelganger had assumed you didn’t buy it yet as it was vacant from your bookshelf. The gentle giant stepped silently closer to you; the dim light cast over you like a glow. There were slight bags under your eyes. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately. Spotting a large and fluffy blanket near, HR grabs it and lays it on top of you. He remembered you mentioned to him prior that you easily get cold, especially at night. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, HR contemplated something before his body moved impulsively. The novelist placed a gentle kiss on your forehead; his lips lingered for a few more seconds. Pulling back, HR watched your chest rise and fall. He turned the light off and stumbled over to his room with his phone light guiding him. He knew what he was going to write. Cisco’s question pestered him enough though.
Do you love her, HR?
HR took one look out his door before shutting it, his heart squeezed tightly in his chest as he whispered, “Goodnight, my angel.” Only the shadows that lingered were a witness to the fondness laced in those simple words.
***
You woke up with a start, you hand instantly smacking right into your chest. Heavy breaths left you as your nerves were in overdrive. Cold sweat beaded your skin as you gasp for air. It was another night terror – the same one for a few weeks now; a new way in which you caused HR’s death. Swallowing thickly, you screw your eyes tightly shut and whisper the mantra that calmed you down. After a few minutes, you started to regain control of your breathing – the thoughts that ravaged your mind finally ceased like the tides subsiding after a tsunami. You blinked languidly, hating nights like these. They weren’t rare, but they weren’t an uncommon occurrence. Deciding that you needed to step out for some air, you did so with the intent of getting a glass of water from the kitchen. Your fingers found the lights for the dimmers in your room, setting it to its lowest setting for you to see yourself out.
Cracking the door open, you were instantly met with the scene of HR passed out on the couch again. He’s been doing that for around two weeks now, the couch his new base of operations. His mouth was slightly open as little snores escaped him. A lovestruck smile crossed your features at the sight. Papers were littered around him, on the ground, and on the tables. Must be the manuscript he’s working on for his final draft. I hope I can read it at some point. Coming back from the kitchen with the water in hand you couldn’t help but stop to admire the sight. You noticed the glasses still perched on his face. Moving as silent as a ninja, you inched closer to pull off the glasses from his face. They’ll break if he keeps them on while he sleeps. Then he won’t see for shit when reading things. You nibbled on your bottom lip as your eyes drifted to the papers. One peek won’t hurt anyone. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
Seating yourself on the ground, you leaned your back against the foundation of the couch. You were opposite to where HR’s upper body was. If there were any telltale signs of him waking, you’d hightail out before he could fully wake up and process what you were doing. Picking up a small stack, you started sifting through them. Your mind became engrossed with the words – the beginnings of the story he had spun about his adventures as to how he came to Earth-1. Then… mentions of an angel eluded you. It couldn’t be Tracy, could it? I know they broke up, but… on the other hand, it doesn’t mean that he can’t say that she was his angel at the time. Like a character development thing leading to their break up?? Well fuck, I don’t even think he’d mention such a personal thing in his book. I know I wouldn’t… would I? I don’t know. A little smile danced at your lips while you read on about the synonymous things regarding Team Flash that you failed to notice HR rouse from sleep.
“Do you like it?” Lethargy intertwined his words. A stunned noise left you as you clutched the papers. You turned to see HR rubbing his eyes before gazing at you.
I could get lost in those eyes if I stared too long.
“Uh, yeah, its- it’s really good,” you stuttered, setting the papers down in your lap. Embarrassment of getting caught gripped you. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I don’t mind you taking a peek. I don’t have anything to be ashamed of in it.” HR shifted his lithe body to sit next to you on the ground.
“Oh.”
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“No.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“It’s not that important, I’ll be ok.”
“If you say so,” HR’s shoulders sagged slightly. “I’m here if you want to talk.” You nodded at him, whispering a little thank you. HR ran a hand over his knee, he took a glimpse at you who stared at the papers. He noticed what chapter you hand been reading – the angel was making an appearance in the story. The hair at the back of his neck stood while you thumbed the words on the paper back in forth, just lost in your mind. Your hair was messy from sleep, the bags under your eyes were still there. It killed him how you wouldn’t confide in him anymore. But he didn’t push you. You would open up to him if you wanted to or not, even if he wanted you to do so as so his mind can be at ease with knowing what’s going on with you. Cisco’s question sprang up in his mind once more before he licked his lips, his eyes watching you. “I do.”
You gave HR a strange look. I do, what?
“Tracy wasn’t her.” Realization struck HR the more you whispered with him.
“Huh??”
“I heard this voice before I woke up.” The novelist fully turned to you with intense eyes, the enlightenment in them – the fire that burned brightly. “The tenderness in it could rival any tasteful delight in the multiverse.”
“A voice?”
“Mm, it made me think that only a heavenly deity would have such a voice.” You remained silent as he spoke. “I never got to hear that voice since my coma… until now?”
You tensed at what he was insinuating. “Now?”
“How could I forget?”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“How could I forget about you?” The baritone huskiness in his voice made you melt with the way he said those words. You swallowed, trying to calm the butterflies that raged in the pit of your stomach. “The flowers that were left – beautiful, delicate, yet meaningful. You left those after visiting me.”
“…”
She didn’t deny it. “But you never visited when I was awake because of Tracy.”
“She hates me.”
“And I was too blind to see that until I broke up with her, she threw quite a fit.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because you must have loved her so much that it would be hard to let go.” She was your angel, after all.
“She didn’t even know me. Truly know me.”
“… Did she hurt you?”
“Slightly, but the bruise is gone.” You and he were silent for a moment. Only the sound of a distant car horn was heard from the streets. “You didn’t deny it.”
“Deny what?”
“The flowers, the visit…” HR licked his lips as a rough breath left him. His nerves were climbing, but he needed to do this. “Cisco told me what you did to Savitar when you saw him. How angry you were that Harry had to pry you off him – I was so angry.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know then… but I know now.”
“And?”
“Tracy was never the one written in my story – she didn’t care. She didn’t see me for anything other than a pretty face obsessed with coffee. You did.” HR tucked your hair behind your ear, carefully gauging your reaction. He saw how you tried not to flinch away from him. “Do you hate me?” He asked as he retracted a hand from you, happy that he was at least getting through to you.
“Never could I feel such a way towards you.” You hesitated for a moment before testing the waters. You started to explain, “I- the night you were stabbed by Savitar I… I just broke. I pushed Tracy away, I had Barry rush you back to the labs. You were dying, unconscious on the gurney and… I got to work trying to resuscitate you. I had Cisco take care of Tracy while I worked, I needed space to think clearly, but I couldn’t. When- when the others were preoccupied with Iris’ appearance, I used these powers.” It was now or never. “I was desperate. Your life was hanging by a thread- I didn’t think it was going to work, but nothing else was working. You were bleeding so much. But I had to try. I…” Your glassy eyes locked back on his, your hands pulled close to your body. HR understood now why you never tried touching him. Why you are avoiding getting too close. “Cisco found out, he confronted me. But these powers, life isn’t guaranteed. They’re volatile, unprecedented – regardless of how I feel in the moment the balance can tip between giving a life and taking one.” There was a tightness in your chest as your voice cracked, “I’m cursed, I could hurt you.” I’m dangerous.
“I don’t think you will.”
“You don’t know that!”
“But I do,” HR reached a hand out to hold yours. Tension filled your heart as panic started to settle. “You wouldn’t let yourself hurt me. It would pain you too much.” HR squeezed your slightly shaky hand, his other hand still bound by the cross-sling. “My life is in your hands.”
“How can you trust me so much?”
“Because love cannot be built without a foundation of trust.” He placed a sweet kiss on the knuckles of your hand. “And understanding.” He took the other and kissed it, baby blue eyes shifted back to yours with such intense emotion. The adoration that filled the author to the brim for you. Just for you. Only you. The one who saw him for everything and anything that he is. His safe space – the one other thing he wanted to be for you as well. He wanted to eliminate any fears that resided in your heart, the pain and doubt that remained.
“Do you hate me?”
HR cupped your cheek tenderly as he leaned close, your heart wanted to stop as blood rushed to your cheeks and ears. Your half-lidded eyes shut slowly as his lips skimmed over your own. “Never in my life, angel,” the novelist whispered as he captured your lips in a tender and sentimental kiss.
Never in my life could I hate the one who my heart has yearned for.
#harrison wells x reader#harrison wells#hr wells x reader#hr wells#hr wells imagine#the flash cw#the flash#harrison wells imagines#earth 19 harrison wells#cw#cisco ramon#tracy brand#iris west#Iris West-Allen
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retrouvaille
nakajima atsushi x f!reader
fandom: bungou stray dogs
content: hurt comfort, fluff
warning! : mentions of abuse
type of work: one-shot
synopsis: he left the orphanage, and that meant he had to leave you too; fortunately, this time, it seems like the universe was on your side
a/n: this is kinda self indulgent bc ive been feeling kinda down lately...?? and this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now and i havent posted in a while so killing three birds w/ one stone ig
the word retrouvaille is a french noun...
The moment you stepped foot into the armed detective agency, heterochromia eyes met your (e/c) ones.
You notice several agents talking and walking over to assist you, but you drown them out only having focus on the gray haired male ten feet away from you.
Said male takes a small step forward with uncertainty and disbelief laced in his voice.
“(y-y/n)...?”
At the sound of your name, your eyes immediately begin to water and with pure relief in your voice, you softly sob his name; the name of the boy who comforted you when you were both still in that wretched place.
“Atsushi...”
With all hesitation gone, Atsushi runs over to you shoving through his surprised and confused coworkers and wraps his arms tightly around you.
The force of the hug causes the both of you to stumble and harshly crash to the ground beneath you.
But the two of you didn’t care.
In his arms was a person Atsushi thought he’d never be able to see again.
In his arms was the same girl who snuck him food from the kitchens, the girl who stole medical supplies from the infirmary to treat his wounds, to take care of him when he was sick, and the girl who received punishment after punishment for insisting on staying with him inside his damn cell.
You gave him happiness in place where he should’ve never been able to receive it.
As if he ever felt like he deserved it in the first place.
You’re too good for him, but yet you still chose him.
You, his sweet and kind, his so very kind, and so very beautiful girlfriend, chose him, the cursed, good for nothing orphan.
The orphanage staff treated you considerably better before the two of you were acquainted, so Atsushi knew he was the problem. That he was the reason why tears would fall onto your beautiful face, why bruises and scars would litter your arms and legs, and why the staff would call you awful, degrading nicknames about you and or your virtue.
He had always thought that he wasn’t good for you, that he didn’t deserve you, that you could do better, but you stayed by his side regardless of his fears and insecurities, and provided him the strength and comfort he had always been deprived of.
And to his very surprise, he found that you found your own strength and comfort in him.
So he knew that you must of cried for weeks after he was kicked out, that you must’ve been devastated to wake up one morning only to learn that he was gone without a trace.
There wasn’t a single day that he never thought of you.
Atsushi wanted to go back for you, he really did; he wanted to storm into the orphanage with members of the armed detective agency, his new family, right at his tail before eventually reuniting with you.
But he didn’t do that.
Ultimately, he chose to leave you out of the mess that came with his job knowing that you would be eventually targeted and used against him if anyone found out about what he had with you.
So he kept quiet.
No mafioso, government agent, foreign organization, nor agency member had a clue about your connection with him, much less your existence.
He told himself that when things have calmed down by a considerable amount, he would go back and get you, with or without the agency backing him up.
Unfortunately, he knew that time of peace was far from the present.
But to see you, in your beautiful glory, standing at the threshold of the agency?
His original plan to keep you away from Yokohoma flew out the damn window.
At the sight of you, his heart did backflips and his legs almost gave out.
Ignoring the jelly feeling in his legs and the loud pounding of his heart, he raced around the desks and his coworkers—nearly fully crashing into Dazai in the process—to once more engulf you into his arms.
As for you?
When you saw him, you felt like you were going to pass out.
Your legs grew weak, your entire body was shaking, and tears started to fall down your face.
He was here.
He was safe and he was alive.
You mourned his abrupt disappearance from the orphanage and spent most of your time worrying about his well being.
The staff thought you were pathetic, that you sulked and cried over someone who they thought should disappear off the face of the earth.
They could insult and beat you all you want, but you drew the line when it came to Atsushi.
Finally having enough of everything, you planned your escape.
You were patient; you never jumped the gun nor gave anything away. You planned everything to the very last, minute detail, and after a few more months of abuse and waiting, you put your plan into action and left in the dead of night.
Thankfully, a kind old couple took you after you had collapsed in the streets. You worked job after job after job to return everything they had spent on your behalf even after they had told you not to worry about it.
And after another few weeks, you finally caught wind of your lost boyfriend tracking him down to Yokohoma through an old newspaper article.
Knowing your boyfriend, and yourself, you knew that tears would easily escape both of your eyes due to the long duration of your separation, but you weren’t expecting to find yourself crashing onto the floors of the armed detective agency curtesy of Atsushi.
But, you wouldn’t have it any other way because in your arms was the boy who gave you comfort during the most darkest days in the orphanage, the boy who laid you in his lap or on his stomach stroking your hair so you would fall asleep, and the boy who often threw himself in front of you so you would remain unharmed.
You choked on your sobs as you tightened your own hold on him and they gradually grew louder as you buried your face into the shoulder of his white button up.
Through his own choked sobs and teary eyes, Atsushi gently maneuvered the two of you so that you would be lying on his stomach—a familiar position the two of you would lay in back in the orphanage.
He gently stroked his fingers through your hair and softly rubbed your back as he whispered the familiar sweet nothings into your ears.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
“I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re okay...”
“I’m here, just let it all out..”
Overwhelmed with your emotions, his sweet words only started to make you cry more.
You’ve missed him so much.
Your tears easily soaked his both his shirt and his neck, and you tried to speak only for you to choke up. Atsushi simply just started to shush you—as you would to a baby—and placed a kiss to your forehead as he continued to comfortingly stroke your hair and rub your back.
With the both of you off into your own little world, a world consisting only of the two of you, reactions and looks from the Armed Detective Agency went unnoticed.
It didn’t take long for them to realize the kind of relationship you and Atsushi had.
But what surprised them was Atsushi’s behavior.
The young adult they knew tended to be unsure of everything, including himself, and stammered whenever he was nervous.
But the young adult currently in front of them had this new aura of maturity; he didn’t hesitate to touch you or to comfort you, and for the first time they’ve seen in a while, he was sure of himself; he wasn’t nervous at all.
With the amount of comfortability Atsushi had around you, and the tender, loving care he showered you in, it was clear that you certainly were someone special to their tiger.
Your sobs slowly turned to small hiccups, and Atsushi’s face turned to one of pure tranquility and content, having his lover back in his arms.
Although having calmed down, what Atsushi said to you next made you want to start bawling all over again.
“I’m sorry I left you, and I promise I didn’t forget about you,” he whispered softly, “I thought of you every day. I still do. The thought of being able to see you again is what kept me going.”
You buried yourself further into his shoulder as you gripped his white button up in your hands.
“And thanks to the armed detective agency, I’m stronger now. I won’t let anybody hurt you, not anymore. That, I promise you.”
Actually taking a look up from you, Atsushi ended up locking eyes with Dazai, who had a gentle look on his face.
His senior only closed his eyes, tilted his head down softly, and lightly chuckled before opening his brown eyes once more, giving Atsushi a look of approval.
The gray haired teen’s eyes widened slightly as he looked around the room only to be met with similar looks of approval and gentleness from his seniors and coworkers.
He felt his eyes tear up again, but instead let out a relieved sigh as he tightened his hold on you slightly.
“Hey Atsushi...” you softly murmured.
Equally as soft, he answered, “Yes (y/n)?”
“...I love you...”
Your lover smiled before placing another kiss onto your forehead.
“I love you too (y/n)”
At last, the girl he loved was back in his arms, and the boy you loved was back within your reach.
And neither of you were ever going to let each other go again.
and it means, the joy of meeting or finding someone again after a long separation, a rediscovery
as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3
writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize! the reblog button is there for a reason
#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs#bsd#nakajima atsushi x reader#atsushi x reader#nakajima atsushi#atsushi nakajima#x reader#x female reader#female reader#established relationship#armed detective agency#ada#fluff#hurt comfort#one shot#anime#bungou stray dogs imagine#bsd imagine#bungou stray dogs one shot#bsd oneshot#bungou stray dogs scenario#bsd scenario#star writes!#fanfiction#star's one shots
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I’ve been having EdLing brainrot since ive rewatched the series so here, have a slight AU that i may or may not write a fic about.
During canon, Ed and Ling had a thing going on. Wasn’t a proper relationship, but they were each other’s for a while, and it was real and they loved each other, even if they didn’t exactly say it
After the promised day, they go their separate ways. Ling goes to become the Emperor of Xing and Ed recovers and helps out Al like they do in canon.
And for about two years everything goes as canon. Ed lives in Resembool with the Rockbells and Ling is emperor. They write sometimes, but Ling is busy (trying not to focus on his lovesickness) and Ed travels a lot (never to Xing, it would hurt too much, seeing the person he loves but can never be with)
Their letters have heavy romantic undertones, always flirty and promises of a future together that neither of them truly believes in.
Until one day, Ling can’t handle the loneliness anymore. A king’s duty is to his people, but a greedy part of him want Ed and Ed alone. The rest of the world could burn for all he cares, as long as he has Ed with him.
So, he talks with Mei in secret and drafts a document. He trusts her with their people
The Emperor goes missing, not even Lan Fan knows where he went.
Word travels quick and soon Ed knows about it
Obviously he gets extremely worried and decides to start looking for Ling
Doesn’t need to search for long, Ling catches him at the East City station. Ed was starting his search there and Ling was on his way to catch a train to Resembool
Needless to say, they hold each other and kiss and just pour out their feelings that they left unspoken for the last two years.
They decide to run away and explore the world, leaving both Amestris and Xing behind.
Sightings of the Fullmetal Alchemist reduce and no one knows his whereabouts.
Al is extremely suspicious of the two situations and decides that the two of them probably got their dumbasses together and are living happily together
After a year, Mei is crowned Empress of Xing and everyone mourns the death of the old Emperor, gone too soon :’(
Cue fun shenanigans of their close friends hearing about them and having a wait a second type reaction
yes thats all i just want older edling exploring the world, nothing tying them anywhere, just two free souls learning about the world around them
#edling#ed x ling#linged#ling x ed#ling yao#edward elric#ed elric#fma#fmab#mangahood#fullmetal alchimist brotherhood#fullmetal alchemist#full metal alchemist#full metal alchemis brotherhood#fullmetal#fma au#edling au
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Secrets Secrets are No Fun (1)
me: im gonna post this tomorrow
me three days later: oops
anyway, have this fanfic ive held onto for fifty years :3 its agere obviously so if you spotted this in the main tags and it makes you uncomfy then block the agere tag and the agere sides/agere sanders sides tags!
Summary: Logan lives an exceptionally ordinary life. He goes to work every morning, he pays his bills, he's a productive member of society. Just like anyone else, however, he has his secrets. He has his hobbies. If anyone found out what happens behind closed doors, they wouldn't look at him the same way again.
Characters: Logan, Remus, Roman (mentioned), Virgil (mentioned)
Pairing(s): future intrulogical & future platonic anxceit (this will be the only warning just cos, but once these ships actually come into play ill put them in the intro again)
Warnings: implied alcohol use (brief), implied toxic parents (brief), and i think thats it but lemme know if i missed anything!
Word count: 1,136
~
Logan had been lost in the woods for several days and he was growing tired. He had run away from his parents after they started drinking their secret juice that he wasn't allowed to have. Now he was starving and cold and afraid, but at least his parents couldn't yell at him.
His stomach growled especially loudly and he collapsed to the forest floor. He was sure he would die out here. He had run so far. He had no idea how deep these woods got.
Everything around him became blurry, but just before he fell unconscious, he saw someone in a black uniform approach him and call out to someone else.
***
"Sanders, do you have that paperwork done yet?" Logan's boss asked as he approached his cubicle.
"Have it right here, sir," Logan replied as he finished up the last bit of it. He handed it to his boss.
"Good work. Remember, I need that quarterly report by Monday morning."
"Of course, sir. I'm just about done with it."
"Knew I could count on you," his boss said with a grin as he headed back to his office.
Logan silently sighed as he opened up his report on his computer and began typing. His job was tedious, yes, but he could handle tedious. It's not like he had much of a choice anyway if he wanted to make a living.
The day ended soon enough, and Logan packed up his belongings and headed to the bus stop. When it arrived, he climbed aboard and had a seat near the front.
He could feel his brain going fuzzy but forced the feeling away.
The bus reached his side of town and he got off and walked toward his house. Finally, he was home, and he walked through the front door and hung his coat on the rack.
He went up to his room and set his briefcase on his desk. He had a seat in his desk chair and opened up his laptop where his draft for his report stared him in the face.
He was almost done. He could do this.
He began typing, finding that the more he wrote, the more fuzzy his brain got. He fought it off, not having time to indulge himself just yet. He had to keep working.
It wasn't long before he struggled to even read what he was writing.
He sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the screen once again. The words were all jumbled and impossible to read. He couldn't possibly work like this.
He glanced in the direction of the box beneath his bed.
No, maybe he could still work. He just needed to snap out of it. He stared at his keyboard and found each individual letter and sounded them out as he typed. After a few minutes he looked at what he'd typed. It was incoherent garbage.
He threw his head back and groaned loudly. He really had no choice. He did know it was rather unhealthy to put it off for too long anyway.
He looked towards the box beneath his bed again.
He closed his laptop and went to his bed. He knelt beside it and pulled his box out from under it. Inside there was a sippy cup, colouring book, crayons, and a onesie. Not a lot, but enough for now.
He heard his roommate come home and his heart leapt into his throat. He shoved the box back under the bed and got to his feet. He wouldn't be caught dead with his age regressor gear, especially by Remus.
It sounded like he wasn't coming in, thankfully. He had a tendency to barge in without warning, which Logan had scolded him for in the past. He was lucky Remus hadn't found out about his age regression.
Logan's stomach growled, which not only brought back unfortunate memories, but made him that much closer to a fully regressed headspace. If he was being completely honest, he would rather fight back the memories than his regression.
He went to the kitchen, making sure he was still grown up. Remus was eating some ramen with cheese, a common dish for him. Logan wanted something simpler, something that would help him regress. Though, of course, he would have to remain vigilant around Remus.
"Heya, Lo!" Remus greeted, slurping up some noodles. "How's the wife?"
"I'm not married," Logan pointed out confusedly. "And I'm also gay."
"You're married to your job."
"Well... who's to say my job isn't nonbinary?"
Remus nodded. "Touché."
Logan went to find something to eat, but there wasn't much. He settled on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Crusts cut off, of course.
He got the peanut butter down from the cabinet, his Crofters out of the fridge, and the bread from the bread box. The more he made his sandwich, the smaller he felt. He didn't know if it was the smell of the food or the fact that he was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but he knew he had to be careful.
He finished cutting off the crusts, struggling to do so, and sat at the table across from Remus. He tried not to kick his feet, but the temptation to move was strong.
"Did you cut off the crusts?" Remus asked, a slightly incredulous tone to his voice.
Logan froze. "Yeah," he murmured, trying to sound older than he felt.
"The crusts are the best part, though."
Logan frowned and shook his head. "No, the jelly is."
"Says the Crofters junkie," Remus teased.
Logan continued eating, hoping he wasn't too obvious. Perhaps he was taking too big of a risk being around Remus this close to being regressed. Thankfully, he was almost done with his sandwich and then he could leave.
"Oh, hey, Roman invited us and Virgil over to his house this weekend. Which- y'know, tomorrow. You gonna be able to go?"
Logan forced back a smile at the thought of being around Remus's brother. Whenever he was regressed he craved the company of the more fanciful twin, with his flowery language and Disney references and singing.
"Uh, yeah, I can do that. What'll we be doing?"
"Probably dinner and a Disney marathon. Typical Roman."
Logan swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and excused himself, glad he could finally go to his room. He locked the door and got his box back out from under his bed.
He went to the neighbouring bathroom and filled his sippy cup with water and then got changed into his unicorn onesie. He then began colouring in one of his colouring books. He laid in the floor on his stomach with his feet kicking in the air.
Life was more carefree like this. If only anyone could understand.
#virgils fics#agere#agere fic#agere sanders sides#agere sides#agere logan#cg remus#?#at least later on#sanders sides#logan sanders#remus sanders
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You Gotta Fend for Yourself
Read here on AO3!
Summary:
Bruce is Tim's emergency contact. He gets a call to meet Tim at the ER.
“I’m looking for a patient.”
The woman behind the ER desk looks bored as she eyes Bruce, takes in the pressed suit and diamond cufflinks. The way he fidgets, drumming his fingers on the desk and trying very hard not to look as anxious as he feels. It’s easier to reign in his worry when he’s wearing the cowl. “Name?”
“Tim Drake.”
“Give me a minute.” She types his name into the computer, and Bruce can’t help but wonder how she manages to type with such long fingernails. “Your son is in bed eight. It’s over there, against the far wall.” She points him in the general direction.
Bruce considers correcting her on the fact that Tim is certainly not his son, but he doesn’t need to tell this complete stranger that. Let her think what she wants. He thanks her and goes where directed.
His chest loosens when he finds Tim sitting on a medical cot, neither bleeding out from a gaping wound nor missing any limbs. Instead he’s playing some sort of racing game on his phone, indifferent to the bustling emergency room around him. An oxygen mask sits beside him, forgotten. He and Bruce should really have a conversation about the importance of listening to medical professionals.
“Hey, kiddo.”
Tim looks up and his eyes go wide. “Bruce. You...actually came?” His voice is hoarse, like he’s been gargling sand.
“Of course I did. I am your emergency contact, after all.”
Tim blushes. “I told them not to call you. You really don’t need to be here if you’re busy, I can get a cab home. And I’m sure I can talk the doctors into letting me check myself out without an adult, so—”
“It’s okay, Tim. Really. You actually saved me from a board meeting.” Tim doesn’t look at all reassured. Bruce sits on the side of the cot beside Tim, who moves over a few inches. “Your teacher told me you went into anaphylactic shock in the middle of geometry.”
Tim rolls his eyes. “I got a candy bar from the vending machine and the wrapper forgot to mention there were walnuts in it. It’s not that big a deal.”
“Oh, sure, not that big a deal. You just stopped breathing for two minutes. Totally normal.”
“I’m breathing now, aren’t I?” Tim takes an exaggerated breath. “See? I’m fine. And, for the record, it was the teacher’s fault. I had my hand raised for a whole minute trying to tell her that I couldn’t breathe, and she didn’t even look at me. Eventually I just passed out.”
Bruce blinks. “You raised your hand? While your life was in danger?”
“I didn’t want to be rude.”
Lord, beer me patience. “I’ll get you an EpiPen to carry with you from now on.”
“I usually have one, but I used it up a couple months ago and kept forgetting to ask my dad for another one.” A shrug.
“Don’t you keep one in your utility belt?”
“That’s for civilians.”
Bruce’s eyebrows crease. “It’s for keeping people safe, not just civilians. You’re a person, so I want you to use whatever you need to keep yourself from dying in the middle of class. Got it?”
Tim nods, a little sheepishly. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, how are you feeling?”
Tim flicks the IV tube. “Cortisone and a shot of epinephrine earlier. I’ll be fine.”
Even so, Bruce can’t stop himself from checking Tim over anyway, just to be sure. He needs to see that Tim is okay with his own eyes. He feels Tim’s throat for any residual swelling, checks his pulse. “Can you breathe okay?”
“Yep.”
“What about your mouth, does it feel numb or tingly? Any swelling?”
“No and no.”
“Are you dizzy at all, nauseous?”
“You do realize we’re in a hospital, right? Surrounded by actual doctors?”
“Yes, and I don’t trust a single one of them unless their name is Leslie Thompkins, Alfred Pennyworth, or Bruce Wayne.”
“You’re insane.”
“Good. Maybe then you’ll stay alive long enough to see the new year.” Bruce takes out his cell phone and drafts the beginning of an email in his notes app. “I should call the school and give them hell for not looking after you. Or at least for not being more aware of their vending machine snacks.”
He knew Tim never should have been allowed in a public school. That’s like locking the most perfect, innocent kitten in the world in a cage with rabid coyotes. Completely irresponsible.
“You’re overreacting, B.”
“You could have died.”
Tim scoffs. “Stop being so dramatic. This isn’t even the worst allergic reaction I’ve had. My parents were terrible at remembering to tell the nannies about my walnut energy, so there were a lot of close calls.”
Bruce should be more surprised at that information. After he sues the school for the wrongful almost-death of a student, he should sue Drake Industries just for the hell of it. “Where are your parents? Are they on their way?” Jack Drake is as disagreeable a man as disagreeable men get, but he’s always revving for conflict. Bruce will definitely be able to sway him to his side of this matter. They can bring it up to the board of education, draw up new regulations for the school’s allergy protocols.
Tim scratches absently at the rash on his neck. Bruce swats his hand away. “Dad brought Dana on a business trip to Philadelphia. It was only supposed to last the weekend, but they decided to stay a few extra days.”
“A few?”
“Eleven, to be exact.”
Yikes. Big yikes. “You at least called them, right? They’ll want to know you’re safe.”
“I called Dad when I first got here, but he didn’t pick up so I left him a message. I’m pretty sure he got it, because Dana keeps texting me to make sure I’m okay and asking if they should come home early. Dad still hasn’t said anything, but I’m sure he’s worried too.” Even as Tim says the words, it’s clear he doesn’t believe them.
Never mind, fuck Jack Drake. Bruce can find another parent to start an alliance with—one who actually cares about their kid. Maybe Crystal Brown is free tonight…
Bruce flags down a passing nurse. “Can I get some discharge papers for my son, here?” Might as well throw that in, give himself some extra authority. Whatever gets them out of here quicker.
“Thank god,” Tim says. He plucks out the IV and swings his legs off the bed. “I’m sick of this place. You can just drop me off at home and I’ll be all set?”
“Drop you off? You’re coming home with me, Tim.” Was that part not clear?
“It’s cool, really. I’ll be fine after some rest. You don’t have to look after me.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” Bruce thanks the nurse who brings over the discharge papers in record time. People really don’t appreciate nurses enough; he should donate a few million to boost their salaries. He pushes the clipboard into Tim’s hands. “Here, fill these out and we can get going. I’ll call ahead and have Alfred make supper.”
“And then I can go home?”
Bruce shrugs, eyes fixed on his phone screen as his thumbs fly. “You already have a room made up at the manor, so I don’t see why you can’t stay over tonight. Besides, I’d like to keep an eye on you, just in case.” Anaphylaxis can be a tricky thing.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a mother hen?”
“Once or twice.”
“Well, they’re right.”
Bruce snorts. He works more on his email draft to the school, making a mental note to censor out the swear words during revision. He’s getting flashbacks to years ago when Jason had a close call with some shrimp at a party for a museum opening. Bruce nearly decimated the catering company for not putting out warnings for potential allergens.
“Tim?”
“Hm?”
“How come I’m your emergency contact?”
Tim freezes. He doesn’t look at Bruce and twiddles the pen, quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know who else to put? I figured it would never actually be needed, so it wasn’t like you’d ever find out about it anyway. But don’t worry, I’ll change it tomorrow so you don’t need to do this again.”
“No,” Bruce says, a little too quickly. “Keep it. It’s...more logical for it to be me. And I really don’t mind.”
“You sure? You don’t have to.”
“I want to. Partners look out for each other, right?”
Tim’s cheeks are flushed under the allergy-induced redness, but he nods. “Right.”
#whumptober 2020#no.29#emergency room#batfamily#batfam#tim drake#red robin#robin#idiot duckboy#bruce wayne#batman#batdad#dc comics#fanfiction#fanfic
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The House of the Rising Sun (Number 5 x reader)
A/N: This is an unfinished fic ive had in my drafts for well over a year,, enjoy? based of s1
Crime rates had never been higher, gangs ravaging the city any opportunity they got dealing class A narcotics and carrying out random acts of violence. No one leaves their houses at night, as soon as the sun sets the streets would empty and complete anomie would take place. One ‘gang’ were set above the rest, they were practically the equivalent of the mafia, all dressed in a smartly pressed uniform and operating throughout the entire city, the Umbrella Academy. Rumour has it they all had ‘powers’ of some sort, making them the most powerful gang, even if they didn’t have their ‘powers’ they would still be in the lead having very high levels of violence between them.
The Umbrella Academy all had nicknames, a mere murmur of the said names would send people running like scared dogs, tails between their legs. The most feared of the Umbrella Academy was The Boy, just as him name suggested he was the one no one knew anything about, yes there was rumours but never any solid facts. The Boy had apparently travelled to the future, has a kill count of hundreds and can appear in a flash of blue from thin air, but these are just mad rumours that drift round town.
Dusk set upon the city but you didn’t notice, too busy finishing bouquets in your shop. You ran a small florists on the outskirts of the town, you never caused any trouble and had never stayed late until today. You glanced out the window and gasped, looking at the pitch black sky, feeling your heart rate increase at the thought of walking four blocks in the gang ridden town. As quickly as you could you close the shop, making sure the doors were locked and the solid metal shutters were firmly shut. You leave by the back door, locking it and closing the shutter yet again, not leaving your small life source of a shop to the vengeance of raging gangs who carry out pointless crimes.
Shadows hid your small frame as you quickly walked home, defenceless, hoping to miss anyone out at the late hours of the night. Unfortunately, luck was not playing on your side, from the shadows you could make out a group of lads making their way threateningly down the street. All you could do is pray that you wouldn’t get spotted in the dark shadows.
“Well what do we have here?” You quickened your pace somehow thinking that you could move away from them but you were wrong. You were surrounded like you were feeding bread to a flock of seagulls, if the seagulls were feral and had rabies it would mirror how afraid you were at that moment.
“Sorry!” Is all you were able to squeak out as you were roughly pulled out from the safeness of the dark into the centre of the group, your bag getting ripped off your back. Your frozen, watching them go through the contents of your bad, dumping out all your papers and pens that you had in your bag until finally finding your purse. “Please don’t it’s all I have.”
As soon as the words left your mouth you were on the ground, a numbing pain shooting through the side of your head, you could see heavy droplets of blood hit the floor as your nose bled from the impact. Another sharp impact landed against your ribs as a sob wracked through your shaking body, unable to comprehend how quickly the events had escalated, all you could do now is wait for the next impact but it never came.
“Hey, assholes!” The voice was crisp and sharp, dripping with confidence and authority. “Pick on someone your own size.”
Coins fell to the floor as the gang dropped your bag and your purse and ran, you couldn’t even look up, the thought of someone more threatening than an entire group sent shivers down your hurt body. You didn’t hear footsteps, all you saw from your peripheral vision a blue light and a dark figure. The rustling sound of papers cut through the silent street and the harsh zip of your bag startled you.
“You need to see someone about that.” You look up and were met with none other than The Boy, the most questioned of the Umbrella Academy, dressed in a smart uniform, domino mask securely covering his identity. His fingertips lightly brushed the side of your head, causing you to flinch away. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He said unconvincingly, emotions hidden by the mask.
He held your now packed bag out to you, you lifted yourself off the floor, wincing as you did so. You cautiously took your bag from The Boys hand, holding it loosely in your hand. Taking a step, you stumble, your side collapsing in on it’s self, The Boy caught you, putting his arm around your waist to steady you.
“Here, let me help you home, where do you live?” In your shattered state you told him, and in a blink of blue you were at your door. You messily fumble with your keys as your shaking hands roughly push your door open, dropping your bag into your small apartment.
“Thank you.” The mask clad boy stood before you, hands in his shorts pockets.
“It’s okay,” You couldn’t see his eyes but you knew they were scanning over your body. “Make sure to get your injuries checked over, they got you pretty hard y/n.” Then he was gone.
You lock your door and double check your windows, securing them before limping over to your bathroom, looking at your beaten form in the mirror. Red marks spread over your face and the side of your body, bruising already starting to form, blood stained your white patterned shirt with a now ruined name tag, the thought of work taking over your thoughts, well not all of your thoughts. The Boy was also on your thoughts, his cold emotionless face, half covered by a domino mask, contrasted with the softness of his words, the caring nature of his touch. He’s a crime lord, a dangerous man, yet he showed kindness to you.
Five was angry, he was angry with himself that he didn’t get there quick enough to stop them hurting y/n. She was the only pure thing left in the city and they went for her, defenceless. Five would’ve killed them on the spot if he didn’t want to hurt y/n any more than she already was. He wasn’t actively going out of his way to find y/n, she was sunshine in a grey and broken world.
“Five,” He hadn’t even finished teleporting into his room before Luther started speaking. “We’re not meant to be out on the streets. What were you doing?” Luther’s big frame towered over Five, attempting to threaten him.
“I was out doing what were meant to be doing, keeping our authority through the streets. Haven’t you heard that they’ve been saying we’re weak.” Five snarled at his brother prompting Luther to sigh then walk out. It wasn’t always like this, they could’ve been heroes but Mr Hargreeves only saw the darkness and the powers within them, he made them the best at being the worst and for some it was the end of the line.
An aching agony wracked through your fragile body as your head pounded like a thousand drummers sounding the beating retreat. You hoped a shower would ease any of the pain, warm water running over all of your bruises, the side of your body looking like a black and blue watercolour along your ribs. Your work clothes were just casual, simple, it was one of the upsides of owning your own business. However, you did have an apron, it had different flowers embroidered on it and a simple name tag. A name tag now covered in blood.
Quiet music softly played in the background of your flower shop, you swept the floor in time to the music, swaying your hips as you did so. Heading back to the storage room, you heard the bell to the shop chime, a welcoming noise.
“Hey, how can I help?” The man seemed startled, looking up at the arrangement of bouquets and flashing a quick smile.
“I’d like some flowers for my mom,” He almost hesitated with his words, a soft peach colour present on his cheeks. “I saw your shop yesterday and couldn’t remember the last time anyone had got her any.”
“Awe, that’s super sweet, have any of the bouquets caught your fancy or does she have a flower preference?” The boy in front of you was about the same age as you, maybe older, he had sharp features but they were even out by the softness of his eyes.
He thought for a moment, searching the deepest parts of his brain. “Lilies, she likes lilies.” You smile at his words before looking round your small, compacted shop for any pre-made bouquets.
“We don’t have any made up right now but if you come back,” You look at the clock, thinking about a convenient time for him to come back. “In about 2 hours I’ll have one made up for you?” You give him a sweet smile as he nods. “Great! If you want you can leave your name and number so I can text you when its done.”
You watch him messily write his details on a post it note. Peeling it off the block, you stick it to your notice board, looking at his name as you did so. Five. “I’ll send you a text once your bouquets done!”
“Ok, thank you,” He hesitated as he strained to read your name tag. “Y/n.”
“No problem, Five.” You see a small smile break out on his face as he left the shop. The rest of your day dragged as a slow drip of customers drifted in and out of the shop. You made a large bouquet of different types of lilies for Five, taking extra care to arrange them in the prettiest way you could, making it extra special for his mom.
You admire your handy work, loving when you get special orders being able to be as creative as you want. You send a text to Five saying that he can drop in any time from now until closing to pick them up, you get an almost instant response sending his thanks.
Shouting echoed down the street, sharp crashing of glass cutting through the air. Smoke drifted like ghosts down the street as screams echoed down the road of people coughing, spluttering grasping for breath. Peering out your shop window you saw them again, the lads from the night before, petrol bombs in hand ready to throw. You had to consider you options, quick, close the shutters quickly and run out the back or just run out and risk that they recognise you.
Quickly, you pulled the shutters down as you hear the unruly lads shouting get louder, you think your safe but then you remember the window upstairs, wide open, vulnerable. Taking two steps at a time but you were halfway to the window and heard a ‘get the flower shop’.
A flame like a rabid hare shot past you, shattering on the ground followed by another, hitting the window dead on surrounding you in flame, no escape in a smoke filling room. Smoke licked the walls as smoke danced in your lungs, making you feel lightheaded, blurring you vision. The floor burnt as you dropped to your knees, trying to take in any remaining oxygen, begging for your eyes not to close.
As Five walked back to the flower shop only to be met with shouting, screaming and sirens, noticing the smoke in the air he quickened his pace, only to break out into a sprint at the sight of the small flower shop in flames. He couldn’t see y/n out in the street in front of the shop, in a blind panic he blipped into the shop, looking round and seeing smoke pouring down the stairs, dread filling his body. In a blink of an eye he was in the burning room, finding y/n unconscious on the floor, he grabbed her body and as quickly as he could in the haze of the smoke.
He flashed to the academy, roughly shaking y/n shoulder. “Y/n,” He checked she was still breathing. “y/n please. Wake up. Mom!” Grace came round the corner, watching her son frantically shake an unconscious body.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Grace’s calming voice did nothing to sooth the panicking boy, she looked at the girls flame licked skin. “Take her to the medical room, Five.” Without another word Five had flashed upstairs, Grace beginning jogging up the stairs wrapping her medical apron around her as she did.
You gasp awake, proceeding to cough up whatever smoke settled in your lungs. You didn’t recognise the room around you, it didn’t look like any normal hospital, or even a hospital at all. Panicking at the foreign surroundings you drag yourself out of the bed, body screaming out at the heat in your arms and palms from the fire, the fire, your shop. Before even having time to comprehend the series of unfortunate events that led you up to this point, a woman walked in, sending heaving 1950/60′s vibe.
“Hello dear, I’m Grace.” Grace had a soft voice but it didn’t sound quite right, it sounded almost robotic, not human.
“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.” You pushed past her and hope to find a way out of the large eerie house you were in. Panic mode overtook your whole body as you tried to find any way out, footsteps echoing behind you as Grace tried to catch up with you but you saw the front door and ran for it.
“My dear, you can’t go yet!” But you had already ran out the door, it being left wide open behind you, sprinting down the street probably looking like a madman but in that moment it didn’t matter to you, you had to get out.
#The Umbrella Academy#Umbrella Academy#number 5#number five#five hargreeves x reader#number 5 x reader#number five x reader#number five imagine#number five oneshot#number 5 imagine#five hargreeves imagine#this is so old and unfinished but al post it anyways
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