#*hold your hand* orange fellow friends | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sahkuna · 6 months ago

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NOT SO INVISIBLE STRING — GOJO SATORU

synopsis: the universe has a funny way of working. gojo always knew he was destined to be with you and so did others. it just took some time for you to figure that out as well.

content warning(s): FLUFF! eventual smut so 18+ mdni, fem! reader, pining gojo (sooo cute), mutual pining, friends to lovers, unproetected sex, gojo calling you baby multiple times while going innn.

word count: 6.8k zoo wee mama... pls read anyway or i'll d—

SPRING 2008

“So, you’re not gonna miss me? Not even a little?”

An arm was suddenly thrown across your shoulders, leaving you to bear its weight. The press of his uniform stuck to your nape, making his presence all the more difficult to ignore.

Fellow students bustled and sidestepped their way around you two, some even falter in their steps to ogle briefly at the scene unfolding before them.

“Satoru, move!” Shoko— your saviour— jabs Gojo’s side, urging him to budge, but to no avail.

He’s still tethered to your side, twirling around his diploma in his unoccupied hand despite your best efforts to create space between you two. “You’re literally blocking people’s way toward the gates,” she says.

It’s graduation day and the last day of school for the spring semester, bringing the school year to yet another successful end. It also meant that today would be the last time your upperclassmen would walk on school grounds as students.

The sun was beginning to dip behind the many trees surrounding the school, and its marvellous glow cast warm hues of pink and orange that stretched across the sky. Its rays descend onto the school’s campus; setting for a brilliant, comforting atmosphere.

Answering Gojo’s initial question about whether you’d miss him, you avert eye contact with your persistent senior. “I never said that,” your voice teeters between a grumble and a groan riddled with exasperation.

Your eyes sweep the courtyard and you spot a few familiar faces in the crowd. Some are gathered along the steps leading up to the school taking photos to commemorate today. Others linger on campus chatting amongst themselves, and some whack each other with their diploma scrolls while others treat theirs delicately.

And not too far off from where Satoru holds you hostage stood a small crowd of his classmates—specifically, his female classmates— waiting for their chance to bid their goodbyes...

Or stumble out an unprepared confession thrown out in the heat of the moment before they may never see Gojo Satoru again.

Who knows.

All you’re sure of is that they are most definitely throwing you shady death glares from your peripheral.

“Y’know, I’m gonna miss you,” Gojo says, his arm still looped around your shoulders. He has half a mind to drag you away from standing right front and centre in the entranceway and shuffles you off to the side. “All the years we’ve spent together—”

“Two years, by force.”

“— and now we’re being split apart,” he finishes, paying no mind to your sardonic comment. The infliction in his voice prompts you to turn to look at him, only to wind up and see a slight pout tugging at his soft, pink lips. “How ever will we manage?”

You smother down the urge to heave a loud and heavy sigh at the clingy characteristics he’s displaying today and decide to play nice.

Gojo’s always been one to be playful, perhaps even a bit pushy at times but it was all in good nature. However, for some reason, his antics have reached a whole new level today.

Emotions were running high among staff and students alike. Some are more potent and… persistent than others.

“You’ll be fine,” you assure, patting his arm half-heartedly, “and I will certainly be fine. Everything will be just fine.”

In the middle of your sentence from the corner of your eye, you spot another one of your seniors— Geto Suguru. You watch him step out from a conversation with two classmates of yours (Haibara and Nanami) and is now trekking his way over to where you and Gojo occupy the front steps.

“Geto-senpai!”

Geto greets you warmly by placing a comforting hand on your head and gives you a reassuring pat once, then twice. The action leaves your hairstyle a little dishevelled, nonetheless, there’s a small smile tugging at your lips.

You’ve only interacted with Geto a sparse number of times outside of class or at the end of the school day. Whenever you both would cross paths you appreciated how he would regard your presence with temperance. It always left you feeling at ease. You’ll miss him.

You’ll especially miss how he was so quick to offer you and Haibara snacks from the vending machines on campus.

Gojo emits a pathetic squawk at the special name drop.

Pale, white brows are pinched tightly together with faux betrayal. “How come he gets honorifics but I don’t?!” he complains once Geto’s within earshot.

“I see that Satoru's already started…”

Though Geto was talking to no one in particular, Shoko chips in given that she bore witness to Gojo’s incessant pestering toward you ever since the home bell rang. “You missed the part where he blocked her from getting to the lockers for a good several minutes.” Unzipping her bag, she carelessly shoves her diploma into it.

“But anyway, I’m gonna head out for a smoke. I’ll catch you guys later.” Before departing, Shoko stretches her hand towards you and gives your arm an affectionate squeeze. “Get home safe, ‘kay? Don’t let these guys keep you out too long.”

Which reminded you…

“Gojo, this has been fun and all…” Being rag-dolled around by your upperclassman across campus has been anything but fun. “But I really should start heading home now.”

You wanted to beat the rush hour of students and working-class alike trying to go home on a late Thursday afternoon. Looking for empty seats on the 4:25 PM train was brutal and you did not have the energy to stand the entire ride home.

Sensing your air of urgency, he eventually relents. Heaving a dramatic sigh, Gojo steps back a few and gives you some space.

“Gimme a second, yeah?” He rummages around in his uniform pocket, searching for something. It only lasts about a second before he pulls out his flip phone.

“Suguru!” A curt upward nod of Gojo’s head is the only warning Geto gets before he tosses his cell toward his best friend to catch. You’re appalled that he catches it so easily with the little to no notice that was given. “Take a picture of us.”

…Huh?

Your brows drew close-knit together with confusion. “What are y—?!” Before you can even finish your question, you’re pulled tightly into Gojo’s side.

His arms circle your neck once more, but this time, he uses the opportunity of your close proximity to tip his head to the side and knock it against your own.

“Smile,” Gojo murmurs into your ear, his slender fingers pinching at your cheek prodding for you to plaster on a sugary smile for the picture.

You don’t have enough time to register, let alone recover from how his lips faintly brushed against your skin, Gojo’s already obnoxiously yelling “Cheese!” towards the awaiting camera.

Snapping the photo Geto sports a lazy grin admiring his work. “Looks good,” he says before he tosses the phone back to its owner.

You’re still reeling over the gentle graze of Gojo’s lips against your cheek, too dazed to digest what’s going on around you. What. In. The hell. Just happened???

Sputtering out a laugh, Gojo grins down at the image on his phone. “What’s with that face you’re making, huh?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you look up at Gojo curiously. Whatever was in that picture that made him smile that wide couldn’t have been good. “What do you mean?” You question, stepping closer to see what he was referring to on his screen.

Gojo tips his cell over and shows you the photo Geto took. There you both are in grain, Gojo looking the most lively out of you two. Despite the quality of the camera, you can see the proud and happy smile he wears compared to your frazzled and confused expression.

If anything, it looked like you were the one who was graduating and he so happened to snag a photo with you before your big send-off.

“I wasn’t ready…” you grumbled, looking away from his phone.

There’s a faint smile lingering on his face, blue eyes still trained on the screen. His voice's cadence grows warm and carries a small hint of affection.

“That face of yours is what I’m gonna miss the most.”

SUMMER 2009

To no one’s surprise, you and Gojo kept in close contact, even after graduating high school.

Well… More so Gojo kept in contact with you. Consistently.

Whenever he can.

He was there during your spring graduation (shocker), much to the elation of the entire female population from your graduating class. Looking back, the number of times he stopped to pose with random students around the school when he came to greet you was absurd.

You’ll also never forget how loud he cheered when your name was called despite Principal Yaga telling the audience to hold their applause and hollers until after the ceremony.

Fast forward to the summer of ‘09 where Gojo consistently seeks your presence to go and hang out with him now that you have a freed-up schedule. Whether it's with him alone or with Geto and Shoko, you can always rely on him to shoot you a ‘u busy?’ text an hour before dragging you out for the rest of the day.

“Sooo,” you start slowly.

Your eyes skim across the playground, watching the few children who were there amble and climb on the jungle gym before you. The sun was beginning to descend below the skyline, and hues of warm orange press onto your features casting you and your surroundings in a soft glow.

“You’re a… guardian now,” you state, eyeing how Gojo stretches his legs out beside you.

You both sit at a park bench, the chorus of laughter and playful shrieks surround you as you watch Megumi— a kid Gojo now supposedly looks after— poke mindlessly at something buried beneath the playground’s sand.

“Yup!” he chirps, but then it’s swiftly followed by a hesitant, “Well, sorta kinda…”

There’s a mental warfare going on in his mind as he combs through the various explanations he can give you, searching for one that would be both concise and easy for you to digest.

“To put it simply, from here on out I’m going to be a constant in Megumi and Tsumiki’s life.”

You think of the step-sibling duo. They’re the sweetest pair of children you’ve had the delight of coming across, and now…

“They’re doomed,” you say with pity, your gaze still focused on the youngest Fushiguro.

Gojo gasps in disbelief at your bold accusation with his hand flying to his chest, clearly having taken offence. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” he asks.

But before you could give him a smart alec answer, the cheerful exclamation of your name pulls your attention elsewhere. The soft thump of Tsumiki’s shoes approaching prompts you to smile brightly. With open arms, the girl practically throws herself at you and giggles.

You give her cheek an affectionate squeeze. Despite her being in the second grade, you couldn’t help but coddle her. “Why hello, Tsumiki!”

It takes her a few moments to finally release you from the hug, backing up a bit she glances up at you. “Where were you? I missed you on Tuesday, the swings weren’t fun without you!” she says, pouting.

“I wasn’t feeling the best, so I had to turn down Gojo’s invite to meet you guys at the park that day.”

Upon hearing all the commotion, Megumi spots Tsumiki talking to you a few steps from the play area. It prompts the young boy to walk over and join you three at the bench. He nods his head over at his step-sister and says, “She thought you guys broke up.”

Huh?

You blink rapidly. “Broke— Broke up!?” You squawk, the inflection of your voice rising at the ‘up’ part.

Where could she have possibly gotten that idea from? You and Gojo weren’t even dating!

Gathering your composure you plaster on a sweet smile, ready to explain to the young pair that you and Gojo weren’t together like that before a heavy arm comes hunkering down onto your shoulders. “Even if she tried, she can’t get rid of me that easily,” Gojo comments.

Christ.

Tsumiki claps her hands together in glee at this revelation. “Yay! ‘Cause I like you!” she confesses. “I thought I’d have to deal with Gojo and his friend with the big ears pushing me on the swings forever.” And with that, the girl’s already off running to the big yellow slide, pulling Megumi along in her wake.

The sweet smile you wear grows more and more strained the longer you two sit there on that damned bench with Gojo’s arm still lodged around you like it belonged there.

Long delicate fingers drum themselves along your bare shoulder which leaves a tingling sensation that lingers against your skin.

“Gojo Satoru…” you hiss between clenched teeth.

Your hand creeps up to give his knee a mean pinch, but as always, Gojo reads your movements like a damn book and catches your hand in his before that could happen. “Hm?”

“What do you mean ‘Hm’?” You gesture in the general direction of where the kids are playing. You feel your brows start to pinch together. “Why would you tell them that?!”

“It’s true though, no?” Snowy white wisps of hair fall in front of his eyes shaded by his signature round sunglasses. “We haven’t ‘broken up’ and we’re still together. Just not in their understanding of it.”

“You—! That’s not—” You flounder for words, trying to spit out why he can’t go around inadvertently feeding into the imagination of whatever relationship Tsumiki and Megumi thought you two had. But you come up blank.

“You’re irritating, you know that?” you say, as you try (and fail) at removing his arm which still rests comfortably around your shoulders, pressing you tight against him. “You’ll wind up confusing them.”

An easy smile slips onto his lips as he observes Tsumiki and Megumi scramble up the slides. “Relax,” he responds. “They’re smart kids.”

And until it was time for the Fushiguros to go home, there you two sat underneath the thinning ochre sky. Stuck under the guise of an unspoken relationship.

WINTER 2011

Being the “middleman” between two people who are so obviously into each other but cannot figure out how to hang around each other normally was all too common for Shoko.

It’s a shame that Geto wasn’t available to come down and hang out with the three of you tonight, he would’ve revelled in getting a kick out of this expected yet unexpected… turn of events.

Brought in as a buffer between you two, with an unlit cigarette dangling loosely from her lips Shoko leaned back in her chair and watched the buzzing scene before her unfold with bemused eyes.

Underneath the comforting golden glow of the restaurant’s hanging table light, Gojo picks at the cookie dough chunks that litter your plate to which you turn a blind eye. Now, Shoko could’ve easily brushed this occurrence off, seeing that friends often eat from each other's share of food all the time.

But something was... different.

With Gojo seated to your left inside the booth, he neatly cuts up a piece of his soft, creamy cheesecake and leverages the small serving on his spoon. “Here, try some of mine,” he says.

Harmless, right?

So, you reach for your own spoon to retrieve the sample of dessert that he was offering you. But without any hesitation, Gojo lifts his cutlery to your lips and prods the food toward your mouth.

There was no way that he intended on doing this right here, right now. In front of Shoko especially.

“Say, ‘Ahhh’!”

Concern creases your brow when Gojo continues to press the spoon against your lips, idly humming as he waits for you to open your mouth so he can spoon feed you as if he were your mother. A delicate, yet sure hand cupping your chin and everything.

He was being serious.

From your peripheral, you catch the slow spread of a Cheshire-like grin creeping onto Shoko’s face.

You press your fingers onto Gojo’s wrist and frown. Trying to retreat from his hand, a peal of nervous laughter bubbles out from you at his display of reckless affection at the table. “Give me a br—”

Gojo uses the opportunity of your uncertain state to slip his sharing of the Japanese cheesecake into your mouth in the middle of your sentence. Your eyes widen a small fraction at its creamy taste, prompting him to comment, “It’s good, right?”

The cigarette threatens to slip from Shoko’s mouth, as her lips slightly gape at what just happened before they curve into a soft smile. Her brown eyes are warm with… something. It’s as if she knew something that you didn’t.

“Ehhh…” Is all she says before you’re already jumping down her throat to clear up any misunderstandings.

“It’s nothing!” you supply in a rushed manner. Your main objective was to simply imply that this was nothing for her to lose her head over. Hell, even the friendliest of friends feed each other all the time! Right?

But at your remark, Gojo’s mouth downturns into a cute little pout. “What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” From the corner of your eye you glance at how he’s fixed another spoonful of the dessert, and it's hovering in your direction.

“Sato—” Fuck.

You quickly correct yourself on your mistake, and school your voice to have a bit more edge to it. Despite that, you don’t overlook how hard Gojo’s beaming at you. “Gojo, not now.”

“Ehhh?” Shoko exclaims once again, but this time the cadence of her voice has changed. It’s gained an amused note to its tune. “You call him Satoru now? Since when?”

“I’ve been begging her to use it for the longest time ever,” Gojo answers on your behalf, and he ignores your mutter for him to please stop talking in favour of jabbing an accusatory finger at you. “You know how painful it was to see you be all chummy and on a first-name basis with everyone but me?”

Lord. You’ve forgotten how dramatic he could be.

There’s a teasing glint in Shoko’s eye that you quite don’t like, and her lips purse heavy with consideration at his comment. “You make him beg?”

Groaning, you cross your arms against the table and bury your face. You can’t with them. Your two former upperclassmen were the bane of your existence right about now.

“I’ll kill you both,” you mutter, your speech muffled by the fabric of your sweater.

A FEW YEARS LATER

A calming blue nightly glow ripples through your curtains, casting your room in nothing but moonlight. Amidst the serene silence, you idly stare at your screen and read the text Satoru sent you right as the clock struck midnight.

Satoru: Are you home?

What an ominous question. Your eyes skim over his message again. And then again.

…And again.

Thumbing through your phone, you glance at the time displayed on the top of your screen. It’s been five minutes since you’ve opened his text. You should probably send something back soon before he quintuple texts you.

As you’re about to respond right when Satoru immediately shoots you another.

Satoru: I KNOW you see this!!! ( `ε´ )

Satoru: Hurry hurry hurry

You: yes... why?

Now it’s his turn to take a while to respond. First, it takes a couple of minutes for you to receive that pinging chime; indicating that he’s texted you back— which isn’t too bad because you like to consider yourself a pretty patient person.

But then five minutes slowly turn into ten, and that ten becomes a whopping fifteen until finally he answers.

Satoru: Open your door.

What the fuck.

Satoru: Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepl

So that’s why he took so long to reply. The man was coming all the way down from his place to come and visit you!

You: you're actually insane.

You: hold on!

Rising from your seated position on your bed, you stalk over to your bedroom door and are about to exit when you spot yourself in a nearby mirror.

“Oh!” you exclaim to no one in particular. You can’t open the door for him looking like… this.

Wait, why do you care about what Satoru thinks of your clothes?!

He’s seen you wearing much worse. Like that one instance in first-year, when you had to borrow Geto’s spare parachute pants because Haibara accidentally spilt his soda all over your lap during an informal outing with everyone.

Yeesh.

Shaking your head, you slip out of your room and pad down your apartment hallway wearing your discoloured oversized band tee and shorts. Upon reaching your door, your hand hesitates on the doorknob.

It stays like that for a few seconds until the doorknob is rattled in a fashion that’s all too persistent, annoying, and all from—

“Satoru!” you hiss, swinging the door open. You’re ready to chew him out on how much of a nuisance he may be for your sleeping neighbours a few doors down. But your looming reprimand falls short on your tongue once your eyes take in the man facing you.

“Happy birthday!”

In the darkness, the soft glow of sparklers illuminates your features and highlights the exquisite details of a beautifully decorated cake held in Satoru’s hands.

Wordlessly, your hand aimlessly searches for the light switch to brighten up your hallway so that you may get a better look at what’s on the cake.

Something trembles in your chest and it hurts a little to breathe. But not in the way that you detest.

He’s cute.

Gojo Satoru is so heartbreakingly cute.

On the cake, you see that damn grainy photo you two took on his graduation day back in ‘08. The photo you love to hate.

Wetness springs to your eyes from the entire gesture, from the fact that he ensured he was the first one through text and physically to wish you a happy birthday, and from the fact that he’s here right now.

“Hey…” There’s concern creasing Satoru’s expression as he pokes his head down a little to get a better read on you. “Are you crying?”

You sniff back your tears and grunt out a watery, “No… Shut up and come in already.”

Ushering him inside, Satoru hands you your cake, toes off his shoes and heads straight to your living room. Good to see that he’s already making himself at home.

Plopping himself down onto your couch you hesitantly follow behind him, suddenly feeling like a stranger in your own home. “Come, come!” He waves a welcoming hand at you and pats the seat beside him, insinuating that you should sit.

With immediate interest, you do as he says and take a seat beside him after you position your cake in the middle of your coffee table. The couch feels so small now, with him spread out like that.

Pulling out something from his pocket with one hand and tugging off the party hat from his head with the other— had he been wearing that the whole time?— Satoru clears his throat. “Before you cry again, I gotta make sure you’re able to see your present first.”

He takes your head in his hands, and you realize his fingertips are a little cold as they press on your warm cheeks. Stretching the string down from the party hat a bit, he places it under your chin and snaps the cardboard cone into place on your head.

Breathing a noise of satisfaction seemingly content with how you look, a cheeky grin dances across Satoru’s face. “Perfect. You can now go ahead and open your gift,” he says, handing you a small black velvet box with the company logo HW scrawled across it.

“Wait, what,” you deadpan.

This can’t be what you think it is.

“It’s not a ring!” Satoru blurts. But composes himself seconds later with a quip of, “Unless you want it to be?”

Har. Har. Very funny.

You disregard what he’s said and peel open the box with caring hands.

Inside was the most extravagant necklace you’ve ever laid eyes on. A diamond pendant laid bare inside the box in the shape of a forget-me-not with your birthstone at the flower's centre.

That could’ve easily cost him a little over one million yen if you think about it deeply.

“Satoru!” you squeal.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around his neck and squeeze your longtime friend into your loving embrace. Satoru’s gift to you almost topples and sinks into the crevice of your couch had it not been for his quick hand to catch the necklace.

Your heart’s racing, and initially, his body goes rigid until he gradually relaxes under your hold. “You’re crazy, ’s too expensive!” you sparingly chastise him.

Satoru swallows hard and brings a careful arm up to reciprocate the hug. You feel the warm press of his arm against the thin material of your shirt.

“Nothing’s too expensive if you’re involved,” you hear him murmur into your ear. “So, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You give him one last bone-crushing squeeze, hoping that your rare show of physical touch does not go unnoticed and exemplifies how grateful you are. Pulling away from him you look him dead in the eyes. “Thank you, seriously.”

Shrugging you off like it was no big deal as if he didn’t blow double, maybe even triple the money the average Japanese businessman earns on a singular paycheque toward your necklace, Satoru casts you a gentle smile and changes the subject.

There would be no need to dwell on it any longer with what’s to come.

“Now…” He gives your lower back a soft pat. Once, and twice. “A birthday kiss from the birthday girl.” Satoru puckers out his lips and shuts his eyes real tight, making a huge show out of it.

For extra effect, he even hums a prolonged Mmm-ing sound to emphasize him waiting for you to initiate it.

It’s a joke; you know he’s joking. He has a ridiculously long history of being overly affectionate with his teasings and whatnot.

But this time, you really do lean in and take said kiss from him.

There’s something incredibly adorable about this kiss that has your heart surging in your chest. Partly because it’s the first time that you’re kissing each other, but mostly because of how frigid and careful it is. It made you feel as if you were in high school all over again, trying a plethora of new things for kicks and giggles.

The tension was almost palpable, thick enough to suffocate the air he breathed. Even when you pulled away creating space between you both, Satoru still felt a lingering lump in his throat.

Cracking your eyes open, you see that Satoru’s own are blown wide. Piercing cerulean eyes stare unblinking at you. Normally, you would’ve found that to be off putting as hell, had it not been for the slow rise of a blooming pink crawling up his neck.

“Sorry,” you offer weakly. Sensing that you may have gone too far, you make an effort to scoot off his lap. But a determined arm holds you in place.

“Again.” He swallows thickly, and your eyes follow that mesmerizing movement in his throat. “I… I didn’t do it right. Please.”

And who are you to make him beg? So, you do as he says.

Leaning in, your lips press against Satoru’s once more. And this time, he has the sense to close his eyes and bask in it, not daring to let his nerves get the best of him (though he’d never admit it).

Slotting yourself to be more flushed against him, the tips of your noses brush and you feel Satoru’s hand smooth down your spine. The pads of his fingertips press onto your exposed skin peeking out from underneath the hem of your shirt bunched around your hips.

God, you wanted him bad.

It’s abrupt, the way you push yourself off him and force yourself to stand on your feet, breaking the kiss. The rise and fall of your chest is a bit staggered and Satoru’s is too. He’s all red-faced and his snow-white hair is a bit dishevelled, considering how many times you’ve combed your fingers through it.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Cute.

That alone made you want to jump his bones even more.

You shake your head and get one good look at him before you leave him to head down your hallway. He looked perpetually enraptured by you, eyes hyper-focused on your every movement. “Come to my bedroom.”

Satoru’s stunned, the implications of your remark not lost on him.

And like a keen lost puppy, of course he follows. He joins you in your bedroom seconds after you and stands in the doorway, just kind of hovering there. Not sure of what to do.

Wait. Did he come here too fast? Did that make him look overly desperate? A million and one questions rush through Satoru’s mind as his neck grows red, stained with embarrassment, want… arousal.

Seeing how he seems to be short-wiring at your doorway, you beckon him to join you on the bed with your hand. Once he does, he sits extremely close next to you. His clothed thigh brushes against your bare one, which sends a jolt of electricity through you.

Your fingers find his nape once again and they stroke up on his fresh undercut, prompting him to shiver a bit. “Why’re you so shy all of a sudden?” you question, your voice going gentle with a provoking edge to it.

Gaining some of his personality back, Satoru pinches your cheek. “‘Cause I didn’t think you’d want to kiss me!” But his mean hand then turns soft and slides along your jaw, his thumb rubbing smooth circles into the skin just below your ear.

“Well, I’m here,” you say, scooting impossibly closer to the man beside you, “and wanting.”

Message received.

Hauling you onto his lap, Satoru cradles your face in both hands and kisses you deeply. It’s full of emotion, expressing all the things he’s been wanting to say for the longest time. A trembled exhale escapes you, and it’s through that that Satoru uses the opportunity to slide his tongue alongside yours.

The kiss is frenzied, but so filled with love.

“So you like me?” he asks, his breathing laboured.

“Yes,” you bite, pushing him away from you and onto the mattress. “As if swapping spit with you wasn’t enough.” You guess you’ll have to show him how much you undoubtedly like him, love him even, through other means.

He huffs a breath of laughter and drops his back onto your bed. Underneath you, you see Satoru’s eyes sparkle as he watches you have your way with him.

But something’s up.

His eyes climb up a little higher and this time, he barks out a real laugh.

You still have that piece of fuck sitting on your head. You probably look stupid as hell right now.

Discerning that you’re about to raise your hand to your head, Satoru holds your wrist in his palm. There’s something bright that gleams behind those alluring pools of blue, warm and tender. He bites back a smile. “The birthday hat stays on during sex.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “You’re so dumb,” you growl with artificial frustration and tear off the cone-shaped hat from your head, tossing it into the depths of your room. He whines at its loss, but you’re quick to placate him with a slow roll of your hips into his lap.

Satoru’s jaw clenches and his hands fly to your waist, gripping you tightly as you continue to grind yourself down onto his erection. Your ministrations pull a wanton whimper from his lips, one that has you grinding with more purpose— the purpose of hearing that sound again.

“Do you like that?” you ask.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak, else he’ll let out a pathetic string of moans.

“I know, me too.” Satoru’s dick lurches in the confines of his pants as he watches you dry-hump him into the mattress slowly, your eyes shining with lust. Fuck, he could get hard just off your expression alone. “It feels reeeally nice being up on you like this,” you continue.

You have a fucking dirty mouth. One that Satoru’s growing more and more addicted to the more you speak.

There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs that you can’t quite alleviate. While rolling your hips into Satoru’s lap— with his occasional thrust to match your movements— felt good, it can only do so much. You wanted and needed more.

And so did Satoru, because he’s already pulling at the waistband of his pants. His thumb loops two layers and tugs both his pants and boxers down, revealing his toned V-line.

Fuck.

You fall victim to Satoru’s enamoured gaze from below, which makes you squirm hot with arousal. “Take it off,” he commands.

He wants you to strip him of his clothes.

Caught taking a startled breath, you ignore the wicked, handsome smile that slinks onto his face as you slip off his lap so you may curl your fingers around his waistband and pull. Your pussy clenches when his erect dick springs into view, and the heat pumping through your veins runs a little hotter.

You shiver at how pretty and filling his dick looks. After a few seconds of openly ogling at his lap, Satoru clears his throat which successfully gets you to drag your eyes back up to his face.

“While that was nice,” he starts, leveraging himself up onto his elbows and grins at your cute error, “I meant you, baby. Take it off.”

“Oh.”

Seriously? Just ‘Oh’?

Mentally facepalming, you shimmy your shorts down your legs along with your panties. They pool down at your ankles and you step out of them to stand between his legs.

Fully sitting up, Satoru pats his lap; encouraging you to sit on him again. “C’mere.”

You crawl onto his lap, but you don’t sit down fully. Hovering a few inches away from his cock, your knees press on each side of his thighs, trapping him in.

There’s no way in hell you were gonna sit down right now, knowing that if you do, you’d be pressing your bare pussy onto his naked thigh and he’d feel everything. Exposing how wet you are.

Humming, Satoru lifts the hem of your oversized top to your breasts and sighs. “Pretty,” he murmurs before he leans forward and captures your nipple into his mouth.

You gasp harshly at the titillating feeling. Your hands balance on his shoulders for support, as he rolls your nipple on his tongue.

“Sa— Ah!” You cry out. The hand between your legs startles you and has you whimpering in the open air.

“You’re wet,” he comments, slipping a finger against your slick pussy.

“Shut up about it…”

But he doesn’t. Another finger joins the first and delves down between your lips, gradually easing them inside you. They push against your walls, curling in a way that has you gasping into his neck. “You got wet from grinding alone, huh?”

A breath stutters out of your mouth and you rock yourself against his hand. You can’t take this anymore. You want more. “Do you have a condom?” you ask.

“I—” he groans when your hand slides between you two, your fingers curl around his dick and stroke his tip along your leaking slit. “I didn’t bring one, because I didn’t think we’d—”

Oh.

Biting your bottom lip, you sling a heavy arm across Satoru’s shoulders. You meet his hungry gaze with one of your own and inch closer toward his dick that rests against his stomach. What you’re about to do could be risky, but at this given moment you couldn’t find it in you to be overly stressed about it.

“No worries,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, “I trust you enough to pull out in time.” And like that, you push down on him and ease Satoru’s cock into your aching cunt, making him bottom out inside you completely.

You’re so wet and slippery that it took little to no effort for him to slide inside. The noise of your slick sticking to where you two meet at the hips has you two moaning softly in unison.

The harsh mutter of your name echoes off your bedroom walls and goes straight to your cunt. “So tight,” he grits out behind clenched, white teeth.

Each time you slide up and down on his cock, Satoru grows more unrestrained with his vocal appreciation of how well you take him. Desperate little moans escape him each time your sweet cunt squeezes him of all he’s worth.

You were no better. Choppy, broken whimpers can be heard from you, loving how he stretches your walks with your length. He fits perfectly inside you like your cunt was destined for this moment, for him alone.

“Let me fuck you,” Satoru blurts out. He was losing it, and he could feel him tipping closer and closer to the edge of release.

“You are— Ugn!” you say weakly when his hands grab your ass and he stands, lifting you with him as if it were nothing. Kicking off his bottoms, Satoru props you on your back against your mattress.

Crawling between your legs, he positions the crown of his cock to press against your opening. “No,” he drawls, with one hand on the base of his shaft and the other propped beside your head. “Let me fuck you.”

He pushes in and you swear you see stars.

Satoru pistons himself faster and faster inside of you, rocking your bodies against the mattress which makes your wooden headboard tap noisily against your drywall.

You fear your neighbours may have some… less than pleasant words to share with you about the noise tomorrow morning.

“Ah! Fuuucking— shit!” You wail. Euphoric tears start prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Don’t stop, please!”

The pleasure melts through you when Satoru presses down harder into you, his hand finding the back of your right knee and hikes your leg around his waist so that he can fill you at a new angle.

“Baby,” he murmurs into your neck. He says it like you’ve been his for years. “Say my name.”

“S—Satoru!”

Laughing a little, probably too fucked out of his mind, Satoru removes his face from your neck and presses a hot, searing kiss onto your lips.

You yelp when he drives his cock more harshly into you, growing more desperate with the urgency to come inside you.

Riding his high, Satoru says the first thing that comes to mind, which is a long drawn-out, “Haaa…”

What Satoru meant to accomplish was to wish you another ‘Happy Birthday’, but of course, it all gets garbled up in his throat due to his approaching orgasm and comes out sounding fucking obscene.

That’s what gets you.

You come hard, your back bowing off the bed. Satoru, remembering your initial statement about how you trust him to pull out, does exactly that. Albeit, he did it at the very last second, but you avoided a pregnancy scare. So you can’t be mad.

Thick ropes of his cum splash across your bare belly and some get on your top. You’re hyperaware of how it trickles down your abdomen, some dipping into your belly button.

Wow.

Breathing hard and heavy, both coated in sweat among… other sensual fluids, Satoru rolls onto his back.

“Stuck with me for life, huh?” he asks, delicate fingers intertwined with yours.

You hum. “Seems so…” you agree quietly.

Now that you think about it, there hasn’t ever been a moment where Gojo Satoru hadn’t been present in your life, ever since meeting him during your high school days.

You two lay like that for some time, soaking in each other’s company until the early traces of morning light ripple through your curtains.

You’re about ready to shut your eyes until your thoughts are accosted by something you offhandedly forgot.

“Satoru?” you begin, tone nice and sweet.

“Hm?”

You sit up slowly so you can peer down at his blissed-out face. “By chance, was the cake you got for me made out of ice cream?”

You know how deep his love for sweets goes. You just pray and hope to whatever higher power that he chose the safe route and chose a normal ca—

“…Yeah, why?”

Jumping out of bed, you rush to the living room where the cake is probably spilling its guts out all over your expensive, mahogany coffee table. “You IDIOT!”

A string of curses follows you out into the hallway, as Satoru sits on your bed confused.

“What’d I do?!”

Whether you liked it or not, you were stuck with this bumbling idiot if he had any say in the matter, an invisible string keeping you two bound.

And maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Even if it’s at the cost of your ¥20,000 table.

if you read to the end we're making out.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk fluff #divider by cafekitsune #sahkuna!

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deadghosy · 9 months ago

Note

I read the one from catnap, now I need dogday

HEADCANNONS OF HAZBIN HOTEL CREW WITH DOGDAY! READER

Prompt: you are a resident in the hotel who helps with trust exercises and help around with Charlie.

Let’s just say, you are a ball of sunshine everyone needs at times.

“Hi! Welcome to the hazbin hotel, I’m your assistant Dogday.” You say as your tail wags with you being slight jumpy and happy to greet the resident

I can see you walking around at day time rather than night as you are straight going to bed at night unlike catnap!reader

Your tail wags like a gah damn helicopter ready to fly! You always stand with a nice suit with Charlie.

I can see you wearing a suit with Charlie as Charlie thought about giving you one to fit you.

Like IMAGINE THE SUIT WITH A SUN ON IT!? IM CRYING AT HOW PURE THE READER LOOKS AS THEIR TAIL WAGS WITH A HAPPY SMILE🦆✨

You would make friend ship bracelets with the residents, such as the crew as angel smiles at how you made a special one for him. You could tell Angel dust needed love as you made sure you showed him love of friendship!

I can see you just being hugged everyday for being a good boy. Literally reader is just sitting there sweeping the floor, and out of no where husk grumbles hugging you and walks away as you blink confused.

You definitely thought he was drunk until you didn’t smell alcohol on him with your canine nose.

“Dogdayyyy!” Yells Charlie as she was trying to put up a banner that says “tell us about your day!” Immediately you came running with your tounge out excited on all fours as you stopped In front of her looking serious with a salute to your head

Charlie had to turn away from your face as she blushes flustered at your adorable eagerness to help. She’s actually happy to have an angel help her hotel actually.

“I don’t need a hug my dear fellow…” alastor says backing away with an irritated face still holding his smile. Your eyes glimmer with a sinister look as you immediately jumped at him grabbing him into your soft paws. “Gotcha!”

You are quite opposite from the other headcannon with catnap!reader as you have a sun ☀️pendent on your collar. It matches you, hell even Alastor said it as it taps it out of curiosity.

I headcannon your fur and basically dog day’s fur to smell like human..like literally nostalgia with a hint of vanilla to help with the relaxing feeling for the others.

Since you are basically the sun around the hotel, making everyone happy and comfortable. Ima just say, you definitely have a heater in your plushy body so if it’s winter time. You can keep everyone and even your friends warm!

You rumble in your throat like some kind of purr as you just lay down by the couch of the lounge room in the hotel as residents either pet you or lay beside you.

You do head tilts confused when someone is explaining something you never had heard of before. So you just try to learn from the person so it can be a conversation.

I headcannon dogday!reader to have slight or do have adhd as dogday!reader sways while trying to stay still or mess with their paws when bored. Like reader shakes her legs when sitting as they hum a tune to pass time

You have some fluffy ass orange fur as the fur on your head also looks like hair. So basically like angel dust and how his hair looks. But in your style of course!

And lastly, I can see reader literally chasing their tail like a dog and then stopping as they stand up to their full height. Embarrassingly coughing into their hand as they try to seem professional.

CREW HEADCANNONS!

I headcannon Charlie to give you half the tasks as she can see you are working a “little bit” too hard. She only wants you to not overwork yourself. She sees you as a leader as well, but doesn’t want to put pressure on you.

When Lucifer met you, immediately he was petting you with a soft expression. Hell, he even made you a duck a few days later that had dog ears and a sun pendent on it. You smile and made a duck wallet for Lucifer.

Basically you and Lucifer had a gift and receiving friendship as Charlie was happy you and her father was getting along.

But when Lucifer started to live here…oh booyy!

I imagine you accidentally running around the hotel and literally Lucifer is trying to do a Lego duck set. And it crumbles due to you being 8ft….lucifer was pouting and glaring at you at the next hotel meeting. You just sweatdropped at his glare.

I image people thinking you and husk won’t get along as husk is a cat demon and you being a 8ft tall dog creature like plush…but really husk purrs around you as you stand there smiling like a derp. LIKE YOU WOULD BE AT HIS BAR AND HUSK HAS HIS EYES DILATED AT YOU!

I headcannon you call the crew by different names based off summer things….more like sunny thing.

For Charlie=sunshine, vaggie= my sun, Alastor=sunny, Lucifer= sunset, nifty=crazy shine, Pentious= my lovely sun, and finally husk= sunbeam

Now for Angel, you call him Angel…but the way you say it makes Angel smile as it felt like you actually made a nickname for him instead of his name. (Might sound dumb but it’s very cute imo🦆)

I headcannon Angel will grab a ball and toss it yelling “FETCH!” As you perked up immediately with your tongue out as you chase the ball. It was so cartoony as Lucifer, Charlie, and Angel record you being such a good boy. Angel snickers as he sends this through hellgram. (Instagram)

I imagine you and Lucifer hyper fixating on things as you rant about [favorite thing] as Lucifer smiles at how comfortable you are to share these things with him. Lucifer is glad to have a friend like you as you share your emotions out loud like him.

Niffty definitely grooms you as you watch a cartoon on the show. You like to exclaim your favorite part as nifty rewinds it as she grooms your orange fur to perfection.

Headcannon on how your fur smells like a fresh summer day with a hint of vanilla and nostalgia as the crew sleeps on your body while you snore softly. Like literally it’s a cute moment as you wrap your arms around your friend like family. It’s a nice catch to be honest.

I can Imagine a resident was messing with you as you had your head down sad with your tail tucked between your legs. And Alastor popped up beside you with a strained smile as he threatened the resident to leave the hotel or he will broadcast them for his next radio show.

Alastor brought you in his next broadcast as he talked about any subject as you just wag your tail happy to be by the radio demon

I can see the hazbin hotel crew being like “I only talked to that dog for a second, and I’ll kill myself before anyone hurts him.” As you just stand in the background chasing a demon butterfly.

I headcannon the crew being overprotective on your innocence because of how innocent and naive you are based on cuss words. Like angel dust made a comment on how you never cursed before and all you said was, “what’s a cuss word?” ALL HELL BROKE LOSE AS EVERYONE DEATH GLARED ANGEL DUST-

So now if someone curses they just cover your ears as you nibble on a sandwich husk slide over to you.

I imagine sir Pentious literally snuggling against your fur with a doe eyes expression as his egg boiz comment how soft and good you smell as you wag your tail and hug them all. Your love language is definitely all and above, but the most one is touch.

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dhampling · 9 months ago

Text

the gate girl!dadstarion, 1.5k

He knows vaguely where the building is - he’s sure he’s passed it on one of his late night jaunts - but you’re coming along too. He knows he’s prepared for this moment, down to the most minute detail. - astarion is a school-gate dilf on his first pick-up adventure with you. wc: 1.5k a/n: dadstarion fridays! wooooo! hope you enjoy - love, dal x

“Come on. We’ll be late.”

Your hand meets his with a toothy grin.

Astarion teeters a little.

He knows vaguely where the building is - he’s sure he’s passed it on one of his late night jaunts - but you’re coming along too.

He knows he’s prepared for this moment, down to the most minute detail.

Weeks spent designing the overcoat now covering his clothes - almost feltish in texture, a deep blue with gentle golden threading. Brass buttons. The smallest red ribbon detailing in the seams. The fit is immaculate, despite the fact he had to take his own measurements. The gloves match beautifully, just as he’d intended.

Shoes polished within an inch of their lives. Shirt and trousers pressed to perfection. Hair neatly coiffed with assistance from your gentle hands.

He grimaces.

“She’s going to think I’m weird.”

“Is this for her, or you?’

He takes a moment. Examines both sides of his glove with a flex. Sniffs pointedly.

‘She’s not going to think you’re any weirder than she already does. She’s your little freak.” You grab at his sides playfully and he shimmies around your clutches, breaking into a timid laugh.

The dark skies of Deepwinter are primed to allow Astarion his first ever school pick-up.

He hasn’t slept, you know that. Bag in hand holding the gift he’d spent the short day hidden away working on. Your matching scarves around your necks. The biting chill beyond the threshold of your hearth.

Eyes round in a contemplative lax as his hand rests atop the door handle.

“I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

Your eyes roll fondly into your skull.

“Yes. Now, get moving.”

It takes you enclosing your hand in his for the door to open, immediately facing a brutal fracas of ice-cold winds lapping at your face.

“How in any realm is a child expected to walk home in this? Ridiculous!” He shuffles from foot to foot as he chunters while you lock the door and pocket the key, looking up to the stars.

“With a coat. And gloves. And…’

You point to the bag in his hand as you interlink your arms.

‘A scarf.’

Astarion gives a small smile, pressing a chaste kiss to your head.

‘Come on, now. We might get there in time to see her out the door.”

The walk there isn’t the leisurely gander Astarion had dreamt of when he’d thought of this moment.

In his head it was always late summer. Sunblushed.

And yet as you turn your head to him in your giddy half-canter; cheeks flush and breath clouding the space around your perfect head, he can’t believe he ever imagined it any other way.

The stars overhead are familiar as they always have been. The slightest slippy tread of frost on the cobble. Windows around you lit with candles and the loud taverns you pass en-route seem well hunkered-down.

He finds himself pulling you closer with each corner turned, stumbling to keep with your gait.

And then, there it is.

A huddle of parents waiting out in the cold, hands rubbing together; a low hum of chatter. School gates still closed. When you greet some of them with familiarity - one or two even getting a hug as you make your way to your preferred circle - and introduce him as your husband, his heart swells.

He didn’t realise you were friends with these people. That these fellow parents could be people to have anything in common with in the first place. Astarion is hardly the enigma he used to be within the city walls and they know of him. They know you’re with him.

But none have ever seen him in the flesh.

There’s a minute where he ponders what they think of him. How you’d described him, how they may have looked at your daughter under the orange gloaming light of Leaffall and wondered which features of hers came first from him as opposed to you. How they’d pieced him together in their minds.

He feels a little out of place as you chatter - hyper aware of each stolen glance in his direction. The whites of new eyes flickering in the darkness.

It isn’t often he meets new people anymore. Even his client roster is exclusive.

“Why would I tell you how good-looking he is when he isn’t even here to hear it?”

He tunes back in. They all look, you included.

“Hm?”

“Marta-’

A faux accusatory glance on your face as you look over to the human who - Astarion presumes - is Marta.

‘Asked why I hadn’t told the group just how attractive you are.”

The way the most blinding smile breaks over your ruddied cheeks. He melts behind a scoff.

“Actually darling, Marta has a point. I’m hurt, frankly.”

Gods. They’re all laughing. Your gaggle of school-gate friends and he has them laughing.

“No, it’s just dark. See him by light. Then you’ll change your minds.”

You huddle closer despite the brazen lie and the group laughs away. He throws in a small chuckle for good measure and presses a kiss to your head once more.

They’re all relatively harmless, he decides.

What do school gate friends do? Why have you never invited them over for wine or something?

“I mean - Astarion, what do you think?”

“Hm?”

“They’re showing a rather keen interest to come over one evening for dinner. Inconspicuous, I’m sure.”

He looks around warily. Can they read his mind? Is someone here a weird school gate mind reader freak? What the fuck?

Your eyes narrow at Marta in jest.

Oh.

If you’re even showing the slightest hint at wanting the doting husband, the doting husband he will give you. Freely and willingly. Far too easily. Naturally.

“Oh! Whatever you want, my love. Anything.”

Astarion takes your head in his hands and brings you close for a warm kiss, eyes softening as he holds you in place. A gentle smile against the harsh wind.

“What’s in the bag?” Another asks in a jarring fettle. Your head whips round. He answers softly.

“I- I made the little one a scarf.”

A coo arises from those huddled around the two of you.

“He’s a tailor. A good one, too. Really good.”

You nod with a smile, looking at him. You’re mid-cycle and the idea of your daughter spotting him with those big eyes makes you a bit weak.

A saccharine voice from somewhere in the mix - “He’s immaculate, honey. I’m a little jealous?”

If he can blush, Astarion feels one coming on. This feels staged.

“He can’t take his shoes off without kicking them up the wall. Or catch spiders.”

As you resume your quiet chatter amongst the group, Astarion catches the door open in the near distance and a soft amber glow pouring from it from the corner of his eye.

It’s a trance. He looks over the heads obscuring his view, the tips of his toes touching the ends of his pristine shoes.

And there she is.

Absolutely perfect. Small, searching the crowd for the parent she knows will be here.

Then she sees him.

It’s not difficult from afar, even in the dark - she recognises the shock of white hair anywhere - and the look of sheer confusion painted on her face shifts to unfettered joy in seconds.

Gods. She’s running. Tiny legs, bag flailing in her hand. Shouting-

“DADDY!”

As she hurtles towards him, he realises he’s never seen her run like this. She can’t run like this in the house. It’d be enough to make him sad if he weren’t so wholly elated.

He crouches just in time for her to barrel into his open arms.

The way he cups the back of her head is as if he hasn’t seen her in years, spinning her as he stands and holds her at his hip. She’s babbling something wicked and all of it sounds like utter nonsense and he’s so besotted it doesn’t even matter.

His little girl, out in the world. Being a person.

And it’s him that she chooses to run to.

“Charming! Hello love!” You shuffle closer and plant a large kiss on the back of her head, taking the bags from her hand and hoisting them up over your back in a routine twirl.

You take Astarion’s hint of a glance toward his bag and roll your eyes fondly, feeling for the scarf and slipping it back into his hand.

“My little darling! Hello! I have something for you - close your eyes.”

He haphazardly wraps the scarf around her neck with one hand as she bristles against his hip, wiggling her shoulders in some impromptu happy dance.

“Look now! You match us!” He exclaims.

She opens her eyes and squeals with glee you haven’t seen at the school gate before, ever.

And true to his word, the scarf wholly matches both of yours. Embroidered with small golden stars on navy fabric. Her name in some immaculate loopy hand. Far too big for her at present, but warm on this coldest of evenings.

“I love it daddy. I want another one.” She nods acutely and smatters his face in small kisses.

As you look to Astarion, he raises both brows in amusement at her request. She tucks her head in under his chin.

“Come along now. Let’s get you warm by the fire.”

✦

#my writing #astarion x reader #dadstarion #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #dadstarion fridays #tailor dadstarion

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scribs-dibs · 8 months ago

Text

i'm an orange moon...

(reflecting the light of the sun)

major spoilers for 2.1, gn reader, it got a bit angsty i didn't meaaaan itttt, aventurine is touch starved and you Know how i feel about touchsta💥

wc; ~ 1.6k

“Aventurine,” the false lights of Penacony dance in your eyes when you look at him, and something sickening and foreign twists in his chest. “May I hold your hand?”

Aventurine knows how to be an actor. He does so easily— his carefully crafted mask is more familiar than his own face. He is a performer first and a person second, because there is not a time or place on this or any planet where he can afford to lose anything more. The pieces of himself are barely put together, what is left of him seems to seep like sand between his very fingers. His family, his planet, himself, torn to ruin. And yet it is said that fate smiles upon him. The fractured pieces of himself are a blessing. What a funny thing fate must be, if his hell is said to be a heaven.

The mask must never slip, not even once— his life is a stage, corpses weighing heavy on his back, grasping hands chaining his feet, screams tearing his eardrums to shreds, and yet he must walk it anyway. And Aventurine will, and he will do it without missing a step. For this is what it means for him to live, his every breath a sin.

Aventurine knows how to keep a poker face. He does so easily— his smile is trained never to meet his eyes, it doesn’t know how to, and his hypnotic eyes are always trained on his next opponent, never leaving or faltering. He can’t afford to look away, to see what could possibly come next— to see what could hurt him, next. Aventurine could control nothing in his life. He couldn’t control the Katicans as they laughed as they took his father, or his mother, or his sister, and he couldn’t control when his swine of a master forced him to murder his fellow slaves, either. But he can control who he gets close to. He can control who he lets in, who is allowed to see what he looks like when his walls finally crumble.

Which, of course, is no one.

So it comes easily when he pushes well-meaning gestures away, or refuses a favor with that soft, styrofoam smile and a laugh. It’s not just second-nature, no. It’s the only one he has left.

Aventurine knows he doesn’t deserve the sanctity of being loved. This fact comes to him easily– all who have dared to try have been disappointed, and all who had mattered to him are gone. He knows it well, he is far too many pieces, far too broken, far too much of a mess for someone to come to try and fix. And this is fine, because he doesn’t have the experience to even fantasize about what he is supposedly missing. The closest semblance to friends that he has may as well be rivers or oceans away, with the amount of distance he has put between them and himself.

So you. You are strange to him.

Aventurine does not know what the hell your deal is. He doesn’t know how you got so close. He doesn’t know why you bother.

“Aventurine,” the false lights of Penacony dance in your eyes when you look at him, and something sickening and foreign twists in his chest. “May I hold your hand?”

That gives him pause. For a moment, his lips part, and his brows threaten to furrow under the weight of his pure bafflement. But, as always, his mask slips back on easily, a kind smile slotted into place.

“Oh? Afraid of getting lost?”

You walk beside him on the streets of Golden Hour, taking in the sequins disguised as stars and the specially-manufactured cool night air. He can’t tell if you’re naive or just easily impressed.

“No,” you say with a shake of your head, “Maybe I just…felt like it.”

Aventurine does not change anything in his face. There isn’t so much as a slow bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows, or a look of conflict crossing his features. There is no hesitation in his face, his mask, at all. But even so, when you look at him, through him, your kind smile finds a way to become kinder, and the tenderness in your eyes somehow becomes more potent.

“We don’t have to,” you don’t look disappointed, or even expectant, at all, “We can keep walking. Just this is enough as it is.”

“Just this” is the oddly peaceful silence as the two of you walk together. Your presence is comparable to a sun he never got acquainted with— he’s used to the storms, to the rock and sand, to the unyielding weather he was forced to endure, but this is different. This is just a walk, and there’s no search for water while the taste of blood coats his tongue, or the threat of thunder or biting cold. It is just peace at its purest. He extends his hand.

“Far be it for me to argue. Be my guest.”

You light up immediately, elated. He's thankful for his shades— the brightness of you is blinding. And he isn't quite prepared for the feel of you. Even through his gloves he feels the warmth of your hands— it is everything he is not. His own are ruined; he was pried from his home, and forced to take a bloody, bloody climb back up to earn his own humanity again. Aventurine’s hands are ruined beyond repair— no amount of washing can cleanse them, but yours, yours are so different. They aren't fully soft, you have work and hardships of your own, but they are gentle. Taking your hand feels easy because there are no expectations or commands hidden in the grooves of your palms. There are no hidden weapons behind your back, there is nothing but the feeling of flesh against the dark smoothness of his glove, and for a moment, he almost finds himself staggering.

How long has it been, since he touched another with no expectations? To not force himself to be overly friendly, to not appease anyone for the sake of getting information, to just exist, with someone else's hand in his?

The last willing touch he remembers feeling came with his fingers dipped in blood, salty tears thick on his taste buds. This is different from that. This is worlds away from that.

And Aventurine does not know how to feel. He doesn't know how to arrange his mask in response. There is no light in his eyes, not anymore, at least, but for a moment they are so wide with shock that Golden Hour’s stars swirl in the mix of blue and purple— a complex, vulnerable galaxy. Aventurine does not know how to feel. And it bothers him.

The tips of your fingers slide from his palms to the tips of his own, raking tiny sparks across the fabric of his gloves. Your fingers are interlocked now, and his head is spinning. You're everywhere. Under his gloves, under his skin, everywhere, and it's troubling. Strangely, he doesn't want to let go. For a moment —one that is fleeting and miniscule, barely a blink of an eye— his mask softens, melting around symptoms of genuine comfort, but his wounded heart kicks in defiance. The mask clicks back into place when your gaze meets his again, a smooth, porcelain smile easily greets you. Just as it has been taught to.

(His hands are nice. You know he thinks differently, has been taught to think differently, but they are firm under your palms and quickly warm to your touch.)

“Shall we?”

Distantly, he is aware of the implications of holding hands on a busy city street, encircled by onlookers and gossiping figures— this is the behavior of lovers, friends, family, people who are much, much closer than the two of you are. But your touch is…pleasant. It could mean trouble for you, to be seen with him when so many people have him under such a careful watch, (He is never truly free of people's stares or of their suspicion, and this makes associating with him more than a hassle.) but you know this, and have yet to keep your distance. Experimentally, he flexes his fingers around yours. It's faint, and a gamble if nothing else, but you squeeze him back almost immediately.

Aventurine knows he is greedy. This is intertwined into his being almost as tightly as the hold of your hands. He knows that this is a rare, fleeting moment, one that he will never get to indulge in again —not when his plans to discover the truth of Penacony are sure to succeed— and he knows that he will long for it once it ends, the sweetness of it clinging to his teeth. But he wants it. He wants this singular moment of peace, of keeping the mask on but for once not needing to perform. The city is busy as ever, bustling crowds and cheerful chatter echo up into the walls of tall buildings. It would be nice, to continue your walk together like this, with your soft, sunny hand in his. It would satiate his greed, if only for a moment.

But Aventurine knows he is not worth your time.

“It's been lovely, really,” he almost slips— he almost winces when your face falls. You aren't as practiced as he is when it comes to keeping a poker face. “But I really must be going.” His hand slides out from underneath yours, but it is not as easy as he thought it’d be. The ghost of your touch already serves to haunt him. A few steps back, and your warmth still lingers.

“Take care out there, alright?” he says it with a tilt of his head, his best, practiced and perfect smile easing the tension from your shoulders. Performing again, this time for a private audience.

He only gets a few steps away before you call for him again.

Aventurine knows how to pretend not to hear and keep walking.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

rbs w/comments are appreciated!! <33

#aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail headcanons #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr aventurine #aventurine hsr #☆.writing

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 month ago

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Not sure how old Gidel is but how about we get to see him and Cheka meeting? and then big bros Leona and Fellow can watch their kids play with each other haha

So tell me, do you wanna go?

Fellow liked to think of himself as decent at arithmetic. Numbers made sense, had clear-cut definitions to them. They could be manipulated in predictable ways. Added, subtracted, divided.

He also knew that children don't just magically multiply--which was why he did a hard double take when he glanced back and found two figures trotting after him, not one.

"... Who the hell's this?" Fellow demanded, thrusting his fox-tipped cane at the second boy. "You seen this guy before, Giddie?"

Gidel furiously shook his head.

The new child, a lion cub with a fiery orange mane, stared up at Fellow with wide caramel eyes. “Hiya! Have you seen my ojitan? I'm lookin' for him."

"Your ojitan?" Fellow blinked. He combed through the NRC staff in his head. Not a single lion beastman came to mind. Shoot, looks like I can't hold him for a handsome ransom. "Nope, can't say I have. You might be lookin' in the wrong place, kiddo. Try Foothill Town."

"I don't have enough money for the bus fare. I used what I had to take the bus here,” the bot explained. “Plus, Kifaji might still be waiting for me back in town.”

Kifaji? Must be the brat’s babysitter.

"Well, sorry. Afraid I can't help ya. C'mon, Giddie. Let's get going." Fellow turned and took a few paces. The familiar clumsy footsteps of his little brother didn't follow.

He stopped and glanced back, finding Gidel pawing at the pendant looped around the lion cub's neck. It was beaded with vibrant colors, with a large circular silver medallion and a cerulean feather hanging off of it.

"Oh! You like my necklace?"

Gidel nodded.

"Hehe. Kifaji says it's my special charm. It helps me find my way home when I'm lost." A pause. "Do you wanna try it on since you don't have one?"

Gidel's eyes widened. He reached for his top hat and offered it to the cub. A fair trade, he seemed to suggest.

"Oi, Gidel!" Fellow hissed. "Now's not the time for fun and games!"

His protests went unnoticed, however. The lion cub plopped the top hat on red mane, and Gidel slipped the feathered pendant over his head.

"Ahahah! You look so good in that!"

Gidel shyly waved a hand at the other child. You too.

"Your name's Gidel?" The lion cub gave a huge grin. "I'm Cheka. Let's be friends!"

Shock slipped over his facial features. Friends? Gidel hadn't thought it possible. He moved around too much, could never plant his feet in the ground.

Something in his chest fluttered with excitement. Friends, for real? Could he really have them?

“Oh no, ya don’t!”

Suddenly, Cheka was yanked back by the scruff of his shirt. Gidel, too, fell backward, pulled by Fellow by the sleeve. He had half a mind to scold Gidel for talking to strangers--but his mouth went dry when he met the gaze of another beast.

Green, proud.

"Y-You're...!!"

"Ojitan!!" Cheka squealed in delight.

"Don't 'ojitan' me!" Leona scowled, keeping his grip on the child firm. "You keep runnin' off from your guards like that, and ol' Kifaji will blow a blood vessel. He wouldn't stop spam calling me until I nabbed you for him. You're going back to the old coot ASAP."

"Noooo, I wanted to play with you and my new friend!" Cheka protested, flailing his limbs.

"Not on my watch, you aren't. Kiss your ‘new friend’ good-bye.” Leona glared at the top hat Cheka wore. “And trade that back.”

“Hold on a sec!!” Fellow cried out. “Did you just say this kid has bodyguards?!”

Bodyguards… and related to this pompous NRC student… That means he’s loaded!! Well, at least his parents are. Operation Handsome Ransom is still possible!!

“Heeey, Cheka-kun! How would you like to come over for a playdate with Giddie?” Fellow asked sweetly, honey dripping from his voice as he wrung his hands together. (Gidel looked confused until Fellow elbowed him, forcing the boy to give a vigorous nod.)

Leona narrowed his eyes at the conman. "Nice try, omnivore. That trick won't work on me. Find some other sucker. Cheka, we're leaving."

"Ojitaaan, lemme down! I don’t wanna leave yet!”

"No."

"C-Come back, Cheka-kun! This Uncle Fellow Honest-sama has a neat magic trick to show you!"

“Go away!”

"...!!"

"By the Sevens..." Leona groaned. He could feel a migraine coming on. "Let it go already!!"

#twst #Leona Kingscholar #Cheka Kingscholar #Fellow Honest #Gidel #Gino #Ernesto Foulworth #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #a fellow in need is a friend indeed #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines

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beautifulfuckup99 · 1 year ago

Note

How about an insecure reader who thinks she is unworthy of love and keeps pushing JK away and wants to keep it just friends but he doesnt care and snaps one night showing her how much he wants her 🤭😉

Awe! So cute! Got you right now! Lol

Title: I can handle it

Warning(s): Talks of body weight, Insecure!Y/N, Face-S!tting, Dom!Jungkook, D!rty Talk, Spank!ng, Some Hair Pull!ng, Curs!ng, and some well-earned fluff!

Author's Note: So this will follow a curvy and/or plus sized Y/N because as a fellow 'big girl', I know we deserve some damn good smut too! Hope you enjoy! Oh! And this will be and "Idol!AU"...

*************************************

Monday:

"Jungkook, stop!" You snap, finally fed up with today as you move out of his arms. "I'm not going." You declare as you walk back into your closet to change out of the dress. Tonight was nerve-wracking. Management had given Jungkook the green light to make a public outing with you in order to confirm that he was in fact in a relationship.

This would be your first introduction to ARMY, this giant mass of unstoppable force, that could make or break you and your relationship. And you were panicking.

"Y/N, what was wrong with that one?" Jungkook asks in the same calm and soft tone as he always had with you.

But how long would that last?

How long would he put up with you before realizing he could have literally anyone else? Famous or not.

You were spiraling now.

Just fucking great!

"I looked like a fucking pumpkin!" You say with an eyeroll. "Tell the guys I'm sorry, go out with them on your own. We'll do this reveal another time." You state and Jungkook frowns, walking into your closet to actually face you.

"First off..." He says, eyebrows knitted together in slight frustration. He would never let that out in his tone though. "Orange is a great color on you. And secondly, we can't keep putting this off..." He says as you rummage through your rack of clothes to try and find something. Nothing looked good enough.

"Baby, could you please just leave? I wanna change." You say, never a fan of changing in front of him. He rolls his eyes at that.

"Y/N, we've literally had sex before, yet I can never see you naked? It makes no sense." He sighs and you turn to him.

"Out, Jungkook. Now!" You order as you fuss at him. He sighs heavily before just giving in and leaving. There was always tomorrow...

Tuesday:

"Mm... Something smells good..." Jungkook says pleasantly as he wraps his arms around you from behind. You sigh deeply and move from his arms, not liking the feeling of his hands so close to your stomach.

"It's nothing special." You say casually and Jungkook frowns a bit at that and sighs softly before letting it go. He did that a lot when dealing with you. But you were worth that. Even if you never saw it that way...

"Oh? Nothing special, my ass. It smells like Samgyeopsal!" He laughs softly and it almost melts your icy demeanor. Keyword: almost.

"Wait till it's done, to see." You mutter and he laughs more.

"No. Let me see!" He says as he tries reaching over you to uncover the pan.

"Kookie, no! Let it be a surprise!" You laugh as you move in the way so he can't uncover the pan.

"Let me see!" He laughs as he starts to play fight with you.

"No! Go away, wait till dinner!" You fuss and gasp as you feel Jungkook wrap his arms around you and you feel him begin to lift you.

"No! Jungkook, put me down!" You practically shriek in panic. He's quick to put you down and you push him away. "Don't do that! You'll hurt yourself!" You say as you back away, feeling panicked. Hiding your body with baggy clothes was one thing, but having him always trying to grab you and hold you? God, it was like he'd find out, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was dating a plus-size woman. And you didn't want that.

"Y/N, calm down. I was joking. Plus, I lift more than that at the gym-" You cut him off.

"I don't care! Don't do that again!" You say and huff before storming away, leaving your boyfriend upset and hurt in the kitchen.

Wednesday:

"What are you looking at?" You scrunch your nose as Jungkook gets comfy on the end of your bed, watching you as you read your chapter for the night.

"Just... Watching my beautiful, smart girlfriend read." He chuckles softly and you shift at that.

"Don't be weird." You mutter as you go back to reading.

You had this theory going. See, if you let yourself fall for Jungkook and all his sweet words, you'll only feel stupid when he finally comes to his senses and leaves you. So, acting cold and nonchalant? At least you could act like you don't care when he breaks up with you. And what's better is he'll never get the satisfaction of knowing he hurt you! It was the perfect plan!

"Why do you do that? Just take the compliment..." He sighs and you look up from your book at face him and breathe deeply. You knew you didn't have much time with him left. He only had this week off, hence why he wanted to come out publicly with you this week...

"No." You say finally and shut your book. He sighs and moves closer to you, gently touching your thigh and you grab his hand. "Night, Jungkook." You say simply and he sighs.

Thursday:

"Hey, baby. Good work out today?" You ask gently as Jungkook comes bouncing into your apartment.

"Yeah! It was great. You should come with me next time to-" You cut him off.

"I like working out alone." You state fast. Last thing you wanted was for your, very toned, boyfriend to watch you run on a treadmill for an entire hour.

"Well, I just thought-" You cut him off again.

"I like my privacy." You say and walk past him to go to your room.

"Y/N... Come on, I... I just think It'll be cool for you to watch me!" He tries as you shut the bedroom door. He groans and rubs his still sweaty face. He sighs and shakes his head. "Ok. I'll cook dinner tonight?" He calls with no response. "Ok. Got it..." He mutters and shakes his head.

Friday:

"Oh! Here." Jungkook says as he tries pouring more noodles into your bowl and you're fast to pull it away.

"No! I'm good." You assure fast as you shake your head.

"But you only had a little bit." He argues gently as he tries again.

"No, Jungkook. It's not like I need the extra food." You snort, trying to make light of your appearance. He frowns.

"What does that mean? Food is food." He says and you hum at that. "Y/N, I don't like when you-" You cut him off.

"Tell the truth?" You raise an eyebrow. "Jungkook, you look fucking amazing. That's a given." You state. "I don't, and that's just as obvious." You shrug.

"Y/N!" He says just as offended as he'd be if you were to make fun of him. "What's been going on with you this week? Ever since I brought up going public with you, you've been-" You cut him off again.

"A bitch?" You ask. You couldn't explain the attitude change. Maybe a part of you was hoping to tire Jungkook out enough for him to leave you? Maybe you were hoping to spend this whole week picking fights with him so you wouldn't have to go public with him? And then he'd go back to Korea and you two could go back to skype calls and long text messages instead.

"No! Y/N, stop." He says, shaking his head. "You're fucking perfect the way you are. I love you. Stop acting so... Cold." He says and you watch him closely and feel your heart clench at the fear of letting yourself believe him. You couldn't.

"I'm gonna go wash dishes." You state and get up, walking off.

Saturday:

"No. No this is all wrong." You sigh as you eye yourself in the mirror.

"I think you look sexy." Jungkook smirks as he comes around to grab you from behind as your eyes stay glued to your stomach area that you could see through the tight black dress you had on.

"No. You can see... Everything. And it's so... tight." You pout a bit as you feel the cool metal of Jungkook's lip ring trail along your neck.

"So? We're going out to a bar. You look good." He encourages as he trails his lips towards your pulse point.

You feel the anxiety building up as you think about tonight. Going public, what that means for you both. The 'what if's pile on as you stand there.

What if he gets bored of you?

What if you guys don't last?

What if you get hurt?

What if it becomes clear to everyone that he can do so much better?

You couldn't do this...

You liked your relationship over the phone. Where it was safe. Where he was where he was, and you were where you were. Where he only saw what you wanted him to see. Where you could hide from him. It's always easier to love from afar. You get to use your imagination for the rest and fantasy is always better than reality.

You were spiraling again...

Just fucking great.

"No. I'm not doing this. I can't." You say finally and pull away. "I look horrible, I'm not going out like this." You state as you try moving away from Jungkook, only to be yanked back.

"Y/N, enough." He says and you move away from him.

"No! 'Enough' yourself! I'm not going!" You huff and turn to go to the closet. "My fat ass is sitting hom-" You're finally cut off by Jungkook.

"Stop talking about yourself like that, god damnit!" He finally snaps and you pause, never hearing that tone from him before.

"I am sick of you acting like this. You're so fucking sexy, and you wanna walk around like you're not? You're driving me fucking crazy. Come here." He orders as he pulls you right against him.

"Jungkook-" He cuts you off again.

"I don't wanna hear you anymore." He orders. "Do I make myself clear?" He asks firmly as he grabs your neck to make you look up at him. You feel your face heat up and you can only nod. You feel his strong arms wrap firmly around your waist before he lifts you up. You want to stop him, you want to warn him about your weight, but you can't speak as he takes you to the bed and tosses you back on the bed.

He grips your thighs. "So fucking sexy. I love your thighs and ass." He pants and turns you on to your stomach fast. You're stunned by the strength. "And all you wanna do is talk shit about the body I love..." He growls and smacks your ass cheek, groaning. "Fuck, I love watching it jiggle." He groans and you moan at the sting.

You feel your dress bunch up at your waist and look back at him as best as you can as he smacks your ass again. "Fuck, baby..." He whispers and grabs your hand, pulling it to his crutch.

"You feel how hard you get me? Hm? And you still think you're not perfect? Please." He scoffs as you shiver at the feel of his bulge under your hand. You can't help but open your legs more in anticipation.

He moves away from you and lays back on the bed. "Come here." He orders and you open your mouth, but he grabs your face. "Did I fucking say talk? Hm?" He whispers as he shakes your head for you as you moan out a soft 'no', loving how he controlled your body.

"No. I didn't. Shut the fuck up. And get on my fucking face." He orders and your eyes widen, but you move on top of him, mindful of your weight still.

You hover over his face, and he grips your hips. "I said sit." He whispers.

"Jungkook, I don't wanna-" He cuts you off.

"Why do you think I work out every day? Hm? I can handle you, Y/N. I want you smothering me." He orders and you blush hard.

"Jungkook... I... J-Just... Tap out if it gets too much..." You whisper and he snorts at that.

"I'm a man, Y/N. Tapping out is for wusses." He states.

"You say that till you pass out." You mutter, trying to joke too. He looks you right in the eyes.

"It'll be the best way to go. Now sit." He orders and you bite your lip, but slowly lower yourself on to his face more.

"Watch yourself. In the mirror. Watch how sexy you are..." He whispers against your underwear covered pussy. You nod and slowly look up at the mirror as you feel his mouth move between your pussy lips. You gasp softly and run your fingers through his hair as he teases your clit through your underwear and leaves bite marks along your inner thighs.

Soon, your underwear is pushed to the side as he focuses on sucking and licking your clit. You try and keep your eyes open, but you're a moaning mess as you feel him work his tongue deeper between your folds.

"Ah... Ah... Oh, baby!" You moan and feel his tongue wiggle towards your entrance, slowly sliding into you. His arms wrap around your thighs, and he pulls you harder against him. You can feel his nose on your clit and his tongue moving deeper inside of you, and it's as if he's smothering himself in your pussy.

Looking in the mirror by your bed, you can see your hair a mess, your dress bunched up around your waist, and Jungkook's hand undoing his belt as he lays under you.

You groan at the sight of him using one hand to pull out his cock that's already hard. He strokes it as he focuses on eating you out.

"Oh, baby!" You practically purr, never feeling so... desired before.

He moans deeply into your pussy, and you can't help but rock your hips against his face, gripping his hair more tightly. "So good! It's so good! Baby!" You moan as your head rolls back a bit. You can't lift yourself up from his face even if you wanted to. His tatted and solid arm was still wrapped tightly around your thigh to hold you on his face like an oxygen mask. Oh, the irony...

"I'm gonna cum!" You moan out loudly, unable to stop yourself. God, you loved feeling manhandled like this.

Hearing your moans and cries, Jungkook grips your hips with both hands, moving you more so you're riding his tongue and grinding against his nose, making a mess on his face. "Oh... My god, yes..." You whine as you feel it building effortlessly. You needed this release. And all at once, it hits you.

"Jungkook!" You call out as you cum hard on his face. He doesn't stop though. You squeak at the constant rubbing on your now sensitive clit and fall back on to the bed to lessen the pressure on your bundle of nerves, but Jungkook doesn't let go of your hips, and instead moves to lay on his stomach, still eating you out.

"Oh my god! Baby! T-Too... Too much!" You pant as your back aches at the aftershock.

"Mm... so fucking sweet..." He mumbles against your clit between heavy pants, your juices covering his face like a freakin face mask. It makes you blush as he kisses up your body. "Get on your stomach. Face the mirror." He orders.

"I get it, you like my body-" He cuts you off.

"Too late for that. I want it drilled into you." He says and forces you into that position.

You blush hard and try covering your face, but he's quick to smack your ass hard. "Look. Look at how pretty you get when I slide in." He pants in your ear, and you shiver and look in the mirror.

You gasp shakily as you feel him start to slide in. "Atta girl. Stay just like that..." He praises breathlessly and reaches around to hold your neck as he fucks you slow and deep. His hand moves to your chin and pulls your head back so you can look up at him.

"You like to overthink? Hm?" He whispers and you blush but nod, admitting to being so trapped in your own mind. "It's ok, baby. I'll just fuck your brains out." He assures quietly against your forehead in an innocent and comforting tone before he kisses your forehead.

You can't help but hum excitedly and feel his thick cock slide out of you slowly. He moans lowly as your walls clench around him. "Fuck, baby. Don't wanna let me go?" He taunts and you giggle breathlessly.

"Fuck no. You feel too good..." You shiver and he smacks your ass.

"Yeah? Beg." He whispers and you moan softly as he slowly slides back into you.

"Please. Please, I-I don't wanna think more. Fuck me. Fuck me, please, bab-" You're cut off by him grabbing your hair hard and making you look at the mirror.

"Look at you. You see how fucking pretty you are? Hm? Did I get it through your thick fucking skull yet?" He whispers in your ear before slamming into you deeply, which makes you scream out in pleasure.

"Yes! Yes! Yes, baby. Yes!" You call out as he starts fucking you roughly.

"Say sorry for being so mean." He growls in your ear as he pounds you relentlessly.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, baby..." You whine, eyes rolling back as he starts hitting your spot. "Right! There! Oh my god!" You scream out as he keeps going, no desire to stop just yet, smirking at how he had turned you into a moaning mess.

"Fuck me back, baby. Let me watch that ass jiggle." He orders as he grabs your waist to pull your ass up. You shiver and start to fuck yourself on his thick cock as he smacks your now red ass cheek.

"Fuck yes. Bounce that ass on me, baby." He groans as you watch through the mirror as he watches your body in awe. He really did love you...

You feel your heart skip a beat. He did find you attractive. He did want you. And you had him wrapped around your finger with such ease. You'd spent all this time treating him wrong, to what cost? He was still here. He still wanted you. Who were you to get in his way?

"Kiss me." You shiver and he does just that, kissing you sloppily as your bodies move freely...

Sunday:

"Congratulations, you two! Beautiful couple, really." The paparazzi calls out as he snaps more photos of you as you hold Jungkook's hand tighter while being led out of the coffee shop you'd just finished having brunch at. You both smile sheepishly at the attention and say nothing, deciding that a statement wasn't needed...

You get in the back of the car first so Jungkook would have some time with his fans, to wave at them and such. You see different girls screaming to him about how much they love him and for a second you feel a tug to your heart. An ugly 'what if' trying to rear its ugly head. But instead, you just watch the man who had made love to you all night long last night and feel your breath return to normal.

You had nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to worry about. Because you had a man who could handle all of you just fine.

And you could handle him too...

#bts #bts army #bts fic #bts imagine #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut

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qwimblenorrisstan · 2 months ago

Text

Onesies | Lucien x Reader

Day 10: Unsanctioned Halloween Party w/ Lucien Vanserra

Summary: A girl’s night with Feyre, Elain and the Valkyries leads to your mate being stuffed into a onesie much too small for him.

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: attempted demon summoning (average girl sleepover behavior), all fluff!!

A/N: we are so back (fall break is starting and I got a normal amount of sleep SHOCKING I know) hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

It had meant to be a normal night home with some of your friends, just dressing up in onesies that matched them and that were comfortable. You’d all gotten them during a girl’s night out in Velaris where you and Lucien were temporarily staying on a business trip.

Because Night Court was, well, night-themed, most shops and restaurants were open well after dark, some were even open 24/7 with rotating staff or wraiths operating them, since they didn’t need sleep like Fae required. You, Feyre, Elain, and Nesta, an interesting group at midnight, had all wandered into a shop, looking for something cute to wear, or anything cozy for the Autumn season that would keep you warm.

It was Elain who’d spotted them first.

Fuzzy, warm onesies that were zip-up in the back, hood and everything, large pockets, generally perfect. And it made it all the better that they depicted the childhood characters of stories you’d all been told when you were younger.

Well, stories that the three Archerons had known, but you hadn’t learned, considering they were primarily human. It was a wonder that the shopkeeper, a crinkly old Illyrian that smelt like cinnamon, had even made them.

As Nesta browsed through the selection, choosing one for herself, and her fellow Valkyries, Elain and Feyre clutching the ones they wanted, Elain caught you up on the stories while you picked through them, trying to decide amongst the bright patterns.

“Oh, that one? Well, he was from…oh, what was it called, Feyre?”

The High Lady craned her neck to look and chuckled when she saw what you were holding up.

“That was from the one book, wasn’t it? With Pooh Bear?”

“Pooh Bear?”

You asked, raising a brow, and Nesta rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.

“With an ‘H’ after the ‘Poo’. But the one you’re holding…the donkey, isn’t it? I forget his name every time.”

She said, Elain and Feyre’s faces both crinkled in contemplation as they looked at the one you were holding, mostly blue fur with a purple belly, a tail with a pink bow and black fur, and a hood with long, donkey ears, a mouth and muzzle, and cartoonishly drooping eyes.

“I can’t put my finger on it.”

Feyre said, and Elain shrugged, holding her yellow onesie to her chest, hers had rounded ears, like bears, with friendly cartoonish eyes on the front and a smile with dots for the nostrils.

Feyre held a pink onesie that had stripes with a darker pink on the arm and leg areas. It slightly resembled a worm, and though you didn’t say it aloud, you must’ve been thinking it, because she burst out laughing not soon after.

Nesta looked very confused, and Elain just blinked, before Feyre wheezed out.

“She—she thinks Piglett looks like a worm.”

Nesta barked out a laugh at that while Elain giggled, before the former finally picked out one, pulling out three separate costumes, one being blue, the other pink, and another being a lighter pink, all having floppy ears and strange eyes.

“You’re telling me those were in your childhood stories? They look terrifying.”

You said, and Feyre rolled her eyes, mumbling something before a bright orange onesie caught her eye. It had black stripes, similar cartoonish eyes to Elain’s, and a tail and lighter-colored belly. Mildly resembling a tiger.

“You should make Lucien wear this,”

She said with a devilish grin, pulling it off of the rack, and displaying it in its full glory.

“It would complete the group.”

Elain said, clearly trying to convince you, and with a sigh, you obliged, taking the outfit from Feyre’s hand and walking over to pay for your selections.

Well, Feyre and Elain had arrived, Nesta soon after with Emerie and Gwyn in tow, the Illyrian proudly displaying her blue costume, and the priestess shyly wearing her light-colored one.

You’d set out a few bowls of food, such as pretzels, gummies, and small candy treats for anyone walking by who was hungry, and had your couch set away to the side so the six of you could sit in a circle in the living room, gossiping and chatting away as some worked on bracelets (mainly the Valkyries), Elain knitting, Feyre and you trying a supposed spell she’d found in her great-great grandma’s little trove hidden away in a floorboard beneath their original cabin.

So far, the ‘spell’ had only caused plenty of giggling as you poured salt in a circle on the floor, while Feyre set little candles out. Even if a demon or whatnot did happen to be summoned, you were quite confident that everyone would be perfectly fine, with Lady Death, Feyre Cursebreaker, the Valkyries, and Elain Sight-Seer all in this room.

You heard his familiar footsteps before he got too close, and glanced up to see your mate walk into the room, a warm smile on his lips as something in his eyes melted at the sight of the girl’s night you were having.

He walked over to you, stride familiar, before raising a brow at the old book you and Feyre had opened, and the range of things on the floor from a crow’s foot to sticks bound together, salt, and small candles.

“Having fun?”

He asked in a small murmur, pressing a little kiss against your cheek that made Feyre smirk, giving you a look.

“Mhm, thanks for helping me set everything up, Luci.”

You kissed him back, right on the tip of the nose, and watched the satisfaction in his gaze, the way he preened at the praise of having made you happy and helped you. Nesta snorted from the other end of the circle at the love-sick gaze he gave you, and he let out a little huff of amusement as Emerie gave a low ‘boooo’ at the male in the room.

“Anything for you, I’ll be in our room if you need me.”

He said, moving to stand upright, walking away after giving one last reassuring smile, and it was only then that like a chord being plucked on a harp, an idea struck.

“Wait!”

You said, and he stopped dead in his tracks, turning around and raising a brow. You hesitated, before turning to Nesta, mouthing something, and watching as a devilish grin twisted her lips upwards, murmuring into her girl’s ears, and they grinned too, before like a game of telephone, everyone quickly knew what was going on and turned to a very confused Lucien.

“Anything for me?”

You asked, a smirk pulling at your lips despite the faux-innocent tone you had, and you saw the moment that kernel of realization entered his eyes, slight panic filling them in an ‘oh shit’ sort of moment.

It barely fit.

Emerie was in the back, laughing her ass off while trying to get the back of it up and over his ass, which seemingly was impossible, even when Gwyn joined in, eventually Nesta too.

You were in the front, tugging up the front of the onesie, even though it wouldn’t go up over his pecs, which at this point was making you feel a bit insulted with how easily your onesie had fit over yours.

“Why won’t it—“

A round of grunting as Feyre started joining in, arms turning to spaghetti, limp as noodles once the laughing fits started, before you both tried again and got it up and over, only when some seams popped with a slight ripping noise, making the Valkyries bust out laughing even harder, even Elain giggling.

Elain eventually joined in with the effort to get the back over his ass, smoothing the bunched-up material out, before you put a palm over the cheeks of his ass and smushed them down while Nesta yanked the material up, finally getting it pulled up enough to where it could be halfway zipped.

The rest of the zipper simply refused to go, his back muscles not cooperating like his thin waist.

With a defeated sigh, you took the small victory that you’d even gotten him partly in it, pulling the hood over his head, all the girls stepping back and taking a glance at him in the comically small onesie, cheeks bright red as well as his ears while he stood there awkwardly, like a child who’d just been scolded. An upside-down mix between a frown and smile was on his face.

You all burst into little fits of giggles as he huffed, stepping forward, into your arms and leaning into you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck while you laughed.

He sighed deeply, and you could practically feel his pout.

“Never again,”

He muttered, only furthering your laughing to the point where you were sure the whole neighborhood could hear it.

Tags:

@hawke1917

#writers on tumblr #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar fluff #lucien x y/n #lucien x you #pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #lucien acotar #lucien fluff #cozytober2024 #cozytober #fluff

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bluesest · 9 months ago

Text

A Diarrhea Camp

In the "Orange Lake" camp there have always been adventures of all kinds, from wasp chases, to cases where for certain reasons, some campers used to have… stomach problems.

On this occasion a large group of campers arrived at the big green forest, where they will share great moments together. Jeremy was one of these campers, he was the rebel of the group, always looking for a way to get into trouble. On the third day, Jeremy insulted a fellow camper which was heard by the camp guides and as a punishment, he would have to serve the food dishes to the campers of the place.

That's how it all started, he hated having to work when he was supposed to be having fun with his buddies, in short, he was annoyed by the situation. On the first day, almost finishing his shift he overheard two of the campers complaining about the food:

"Wow…is this stuff even edible?"

"Is this supposed to be mashed potatoes?"

"The only thing pure here is how my stomach will end up after eating this."

"Rather, how your diarrhea will turn out after eating this attempt at food."

Hearing this, Jeremy couldn't help but get a feeling, one he had never felt before, it was a mixture of need and the obscene, like a great desire inside his heart that made him start sweating. He thought, "Just imagine how those unusable toilets would end up if any of these guys had an urge."

Night came and he was in his cabin with 5 of the other campers:

"Hey, I don't recommend you go to the bathrooms in this place, they're worse than last year, I'd choose a tree to mark my territory over that attempt at hygiene."

"And when it's your turn to do number two?"

"First of all, it's called shitting, second of all, I wouldn't have a choice to be honest."

Again that feeling came, piercing his chest and making certain parts of his body start to fill with blood. "Do I really like that kind of thing…? Naaahhh… but I should be able to do something to prove otherwise… I have an idea!"

While no one was looking, Jeremy grabbed his backpack and searched through his clothes, "I usually usually put all the medications on my shelf when I leave… Here it is!" Among several capsules he found a hand-sized bottle of a powerful laxative, and if you're wondering why a person would have a big bottle of laxative, well, let's just say our friend has had trouble with unclogging the pipe when he usually eats a lot of junk food.

The next day it was time to execute the plan, he waited for the cooks to be distracted to pour at least a small spoonful of the laxative to each of the dishes, the taste was not going to be a problem because the food itself was disgusting, Jeremy's conscience kicked in and almost caused him to stop his plan, but his desire was stronger, and that's how around 40 campers were intoxicated with laxative.

Once he finished his work, he grabbed a plate of food and sat down with his companions:

"This tastes a little weird than usual, but it's still gross."

"There are lots of activities at camp today: canoe paddling, swimming, a foot race, arts and crafts and among other things, what will you guys be doing?"

This just added more excitement to the matter, many of them would have to cut their activities short because their stomachs wouldn't hold out for long.

Twenty minutes passed and Jeremy was sitting on a log when he spotted a camper in the distance trying to hide the fact that he was carrying a roll of toilet paper in his hand, he was Jeremy's first victim, or at least the first one he could observe.

Slowly he approached him taking care that he didn't see him, surprisingly he got to the bathroom earlier which was because the camper could barely take small steps. When he arrived he saw that the bathroom had only two compartments, it was a typical wooden latrine with a large hole in the floor as a toilet, there are about 10 of these bathrooms around the camp, but even so they were not enough for the large wave of diarrheic young people, Jeremy hid in the second toilet and with a knife he had in his pocket he made a hole that allowed him to see everything that happened in the first latrine and that made it difficult to observe what was happening in the second one from the first toilet.

Finally he hears the first door creaking and being abruptly closed, he hears a small voice: "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!" followed by the sound of the boy's pants strap to then drop his pants, after that the boy was able to free himself:

*PPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFT* *HSRQQQHRHRHRSQRSRSHRSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSQRSFS FFFFFF*

The first blow was a devastating one, you could tell from afar how he'd been holding that in for a long time.

*GASP* *PPRRRRHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHS* *PPFFFFFFFFTTT* *SQHHQSHQHQHQ* *PPPFFFFFFFFFFTTTT* *PPPFFFFFFFFTTTT*

The second one violently hit the hole, liters of liquid was expelled from the small anus of the subject that was not enough to expel everything in one blow:

"Why me?!?!?!?!?" *PPPFPFPTTT* *PPPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSSQHHQSHQSHQSHQSHQSHSQHSQH*.

Sobs began to be heard which were confused by the drops of brown liquid coming out of the poor boy, Jeremy was able to fill his desire, but this is not where it ends. Suddenly a knock was heard at Jeremy's cubicle door:

"Hey buddy, excuse me, but have you cleared the bathroom yet? I just really need to go, and to be honest, the guy next door sounds like he's just getting started."

Jeremy took his eyes off the hole, opened the door and answered, "All yours", he was a tall young man with some muscle, his clothes were stuck to him due to sweat, and with a smile he thanked Jeremy obviously not knowing that he was the one who was to blame for his suffering.

The big guy closed the door, Jeremy almost left the place disappointed until he saw a small hole that would allow him to see what was also happening in the second cubicle: He saw how the tall guy started to undress, he was the type of person who undresses to go to the bathroom when it is something urgent, Jeremy managed to see part of the guy's penis before his ass fell into the toilet:

*PPPPPPFFTFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTT* *PSSSSSSSS*.

The first blow was weak compared to that of the previous person, who by the way was still expelling large amounts of poop in embarrassment as he knew a new person entered with the same problem:

*PSSSSSSSSSSSS* *PPFFFFFFFTTT* *PLOP*.

The second hit was somewhat disappointing for Jeremy, apparently this guy was having a bad constipation, he was about to leave to find other campers until a big noise made him stay:

*PPPSFFFFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTF* *PPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* *HQSHHSQHQHHSHHSHHSHSSSSSS* *PSPSPSPSSHSHSHHHHSHSHSHSHSSS* *PLOP* *PFFFTFTTT* *PLOP* *PRRRRRRRRRR* "Aghhhh!"

The smell hit him all at once, a mixture of bread and meat with a hint of pepper, the man managed to unclog his pipe and managed to release a third shocking wave as the first person had already finished and proceeded to clean himself up Tall: "Uffffffff I really did have to get rid of a couple of extra pounds…wait a minute…I FORGOT TO BRING PAPER…*KNOCK* *KNOCK* hey, I know you're in there, could you lend me some paper? I really need to clean up the mess I have on my butt."

Shy: "ummmm… Ok… but don't finish it all, I'm afraid this is a… diarrhea."

Tall: "Don't worry, I have more in my backpack, just let me know when you want to hit the porcelain again."

Shy: "That would be strange…"

Tall: "In another context yes, but come on, we both heard and smelled what was going on in each other's toilet, we're like bathroom bros!"

Shy: "Well… do you want to go paddling after this… with me?"

Tall: "Sure, why not, I don't have many friends around here either."

Those words reminded Jeremy of one of the other activities which would be interesting for his new hobby: canoe paddling, just the thought of a person having an emergency in a place surrounded by water and the only way out is using brute force which raises the risk of causing an anal leak, is something that fascinated Jeremy. As he left the area he saw that very few campers were around, that was a sign that most were already affected and that only those with strong stomachs were not affected, even so sooner or later they would all fall.

As he made his way to the lake he could see the start of the foot race that he heard in the cafeteria, there were 5 contestants, all of them were sweaty, but only one had a worried face, apparently 4 of them had already used the bathroom and the sweat remained as a souvenir. The camper was wearing a yellow sleeveless shirt with tight black shorts that exposed his well polished legs.

The guide started the race, the one in the yellow shirt that we will call as "Runner" was in first place, apparently his urgency gave him the strength to explode his legs and want to finish the race as soon as possible, not even Jeremy taking shortcuts could catch him, so he followed him with his eyes, after 5 minutes the runner reached the finish line but he did not stop there and kept running, in the distance Jeremy could distinguish something between the runner's legs, a big lump, Jeremy decided to chase him again, he could even see how liquid diarrhea began to drip out of the shorts: a big lump, Jeremy decided to chase it again, he could even see how liquid diarrhea started to drip out of the shorts.

The runner arrived at his destination and after 1 minute Jeremy arrived too, while the runner was making a huge effort to take off his tight shorts without causing a mess, Jeremy took advantage of his urgency and opened a hole with the razor to observe what was going on inside: he saw how an agitated camper with big legs was undressing and with the speed that made him win the race he made his ass reach his own finish line:

The first wave was brutal, the smell was starting to permeate Jeremy's eyes, but also permeating the great view of what of the biggest asses Jeremy has ever seen in his life.

*PSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPS* *SQSHHSHQSHQSHSQHSHQHSHQHSHQHHS* *GASP* *PPPFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTT* *PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* *PSPPSPSPSPSPSPSPSHHHHHHHHHH* *SQSHHSQHHSHQSHQSHQSHQSHQS*

The second wave did not disappoint, so strong was the smell that Jeremy's eyes began to water and in his mind he said, "someone ate a lot of garlic today, didn't he?"

*PPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFTFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT* *PLOP* *PLOP* *PLOP* *PLOP* *PLOP* *PLOP*

By the third, things had calmed down, Jeremy pulled his face out of the hole, wiped his eyes with a handkerchief and set out to continue with his original plan: go to the lake.

There was only one person already in the lake, a brunette person wearing a swimsuit, he looked ridiculous wearing that knowing he wouldn't touch the water, but Jeremy was not one to judge as he was doing worse.He approached the dock and in the distance he saw how the "swimmer" started hugging his stomach, Jeremy imagined that sporty body squeezed by that blue suit and when he saw him heading towards a secluded shore, Jeremy set out to run just to reach to hide and get a better view of the swimmer's butt. It wasn't easy but he finally got there before him, he positioned himself in a small bush as the canoe was parked:

Swimmer "Oh my god, the toilets are too far away and… I don't think I can hold on… shit."

*PPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTT* *PPPFFFFFFFFFTTTT* *PPPFRRTRTRTRR* *PPPFRRTRTRTRR*

A machine gun of farts was coming out of that tight ass, with force and desperation the swimmer started to quickly take off that suit exposing that under that suit was hiding a nice ass, he barely managed to free his ass and started to shit without even squatting down:

*PFPDPDPDPDPPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPPS* *PPFPFFTFTFTFTTFTF* *PPDPSPSPSPSPSPSPS*

They were wet farts coming out forcefully as they were inundated by waves of violent diarrhea, it had a dark color and stank pretty bad.

*PRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRP* *PSPSPSPPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSSSSSSS* *PRPPRPRPRPRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSSS* *PRPPRPRPRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSS*

Followed the liquid, there was no trace of any solid material, the frequency of the farts was going down, but they were much louder, at this part the camper could barely squat:

*PPFFFFFFFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTTF* *RPPRPRPRPRPRPRPR* *PRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPR* *PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS* *QSHQSHHSHQSHQSHSHHQHQSHQHSHSHSHS* *PPFFFTFTTTT* *PPFFFTTTT*

An even more powerful jet made the swimmer tremble causing him to nearly lose his balance and fall into his own fecal material. Finally, the poor camper finished and wiped his butt with the lake water hoping no one had seen him.

Jeremy seeing that the swimmer left was ready to return to his cabin and rest from the marathon he ran all day, but something strange, in the mud of the forest he saw footsteps, a trace of someone walking through the forest and so far did not return, Jeremy exhausted did not miss the opportunity and also went into the forest.

5 minutes was the time Jeremy was walking among the big trees, he was about to return when he heard some moans, when he looked out he saw another camper sweating, walking and hugging his stomach, so Jeremy decided to deviate from the dirt road and hid in the trees following the lost camper.

He looked exhausted and dizzy, he stopped for a second and changed his route next to a tree, defeated, he slowly dropped his pants leaving his somewhat flat butt in the air:

*PPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTT*. It was just a dry fart, apparently yet another one who is constipated.

Slowly a monumental poop made its way out, it was so big that it couldn't easily pass through the poor boy's anus:

*SQHHQSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH* *SPLASH*.

Finally, it fell leaving the way free for:

Shit was falling and exploding as it hit the ground, many flies around started to approach the boy which made the situation more uncomfortable:

*PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* *PPPPPPPFFTTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTF* *PQSPSPQSPQSPQSPSSSHHSHSGSS* *PFFFFFFFFFFFT* *GASP*.

Camper: "I think… I'll stay in camp…"

He slowly took several sheets and wiped his bottom, they were rough but worked well for the situation. After leaving, Jeremy walked over to the pile of shit and admired it by touching a certain part of his body.

Upon arriving back at camp, his friends told him the news that several campers had severe diarrhea.

#diarrhea #farts #coprophilia #desesperation #laxative #campement #chef

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himbos-hotline · 2 years ago

Note

go clothes shopping with, go to ikea with, go grocery shopping with

Orange, Chuck Taylor, Trent?

- @freshlychaos

go clothes shopping with: Trent? mostly cuz I think he would be a cool chill guy and wouldnt mind carrying like a million different clothes. and then sue with her cuz i love sue so much shes such a angel! shed get us mcdonalds

go to ikea with: chuckie. Because I think hed also psend too much time in the kids section where you get like pens and paints and like stuffies because hes a doofus and I am in love with him [surpsinging, absloutely nobody there Jack] also strong man lift flat pack furniture and being sucha an idiot with the fucking little pencils and tucking them behind his ear hngggggg. I love him so damn much!

go grocery shopping with: *hands orange oranges* hhehe orange squared

#mouse has pals #freshlychaos #*hold your hand* orange fellow friends #thats your current friend tag unless you can think of anything else?#also sorry about the extreme thirsting over chuck taylor it will happen again #now just thinking about him in ikea #and I am #none of these thoughts are holy

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charles-smith-pillow-princess · 16 hours ago

Note

Charles revealing his feelings towards Arthur ��

There was a lot about Lemoyne Charles was never going to get used to. The wet, suffocating heat. The sucking morass of the soil. The constant scream and buzz of insects that filled the night air.

It was loud, annoying. Charles hadn’t slept well in months, since they left Horseshoe Overlook.

Tonight, though, he was awake on purpose. He has a mission to complete. One that started the moment Arthur Morgan, resurrected from Guarma, had pulled Charles into a hug that same evening.

“Arthur,” Charles whispered, nudging Arthur’s booted foot with he knee. The man was so exhausted he hadn’t even pulled his shoes off before falling into his cot. “Get up.”

Arthur snuffled sleepily, one arm raising over his head to bat at the air lazily, waving Charles off.

Charles pinched the skin behind Arthur’s knee. He’d have gone for the shoulder, but it still looked red and swollen from sunburn. He didn’t want to cause Arthur any more pain than what the man had been through already.

Arthur startled, foot kicking out towards Charles’ stomach. Charles dodged.

“What in damnation—“ Arthur said, then caught Charles’ silhouette in the moonlight streaming through the shack’s broken window. “Charles?”

Charles swallowed down the urge to step away. Say, nevermind, sorry to disturb you. Bury the flame burning in his breast deep in the silty soil, let it drown in the murky water.

But he’d already allowed himself the luxury of cowardice for too long. “Need to talk to you,” Charles said.

Arthur grumbled, but soon enough the two men were outside, looking over the swamp from the rickety porch.

“What the hell couldn’t wait till morning, Charles?” Arthur asked, exhaustion clear. “I’m happy to see you, ‘n all, but a man needs his sleep.”

Charles cut straight to it. “Are you? Happy to see me?”

Arthur pulled a pack of cigarette out of his pocket, offering one. At Charles’ refusal, he lit his own, cupping his hand against the orange glow of the ember.

“‘Course I am,” he said, finally. “What kind of question is that? You’re my friend, ain’t ya?”

Charles fixed his eyes on the dizzying drunken flight pattern of a firefly. He swallowed. It felt like choking down glass. “No.”

Arthur started, turning. From the corner of Charles’ eye he could see the look of pained confusion on his friend’s handsome, sunburned face.

“What do ya mean, no?” Arthur questioned, a little angry. It’s something they had in common—reaching for anger. Because it didn’t feel good, but it felt a hell of a lot better than fear.

Charles kept his eyes fixed on the lazy swirl of the firefly. Just a little light, winking in and out of the oppressive darkness. “I don’t want to be your friend, Arthur. I want—I want more than that.” Charles let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. “Wanted more than that for a while, now.”

Arthur was quiet for a minute, smoking his cigarette. Then he snorted, dropping the thing to the deck and grinding it under his heel. “What brought this on?” His voice was a little odd. “Why now?”

Charles shook his head, hand tight on the railing. “Thought you were dead,” he admitted. “My hair—I cut it for you. One side, for a fellow warrior. Other side—“

“Charles,” Arthur interrupted. He’d stepped closer, so far in Charles’ space that he could feel the heat from his skin. “How long?”

“You killed a man for me,” Charles said. He still didn’t have it in him to face Arthur. See the rejection in his eyes, the pity.

Arthur sucked his teeth. “You don’t owe me for that.”

Charles licked his lips. “No. I don’t,” he agreed. “Just— you see me, Arthur.” Charles gripped the railing tighter, felt like it could give way under his fingers. “Like no one ever has. You see me, not just—not just what I can do for you. Or what you want to see.”

Arthur scoffed. “Anyone could see you, Charles. You’re a wonder.”

“And I see you,” Charles said. He finally turned to face Arthur. There was something in the other man’s eyes, but it wasn’t pity. Thank god, it wasn’t pity.

“You’re a better man than you let yourself be. This gang, it’s important. There’s good people. But since you left—“ Charles reached carefully for Arthur’s hand. Thrilled, when the other man let him take it. “You’re all I’ve been able to think about. That I might have lost any chance at this, when your ship sank at sea.”

Arthur’s eyes were pale in the moonlight. It felt like they were piercing into Charles’ soul. “Charles,” he said, voice tight, and his fingers twined in Charles’ own. “Need you to be sure about this. I’ve lost a lot, recently. You feed me now, ain’t no getting rid of me.”

Butterflies soared high in Charles chest. He felt like his face was gonna split, he was grinning so wide. “Arthur,” he said, leaning in, so close his lips brushed Arthur’s own as he spoke the truth in his heart, low and soft. “You’re the first thing in a long time I’ve wanted to keep.”

#charles smith #charthur #arthur morgan #writing zoomies #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

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pierrotwrites-hc · 1 month ago

Text

sneak peak: part III chapter 2

The hatch above sliced the weak light like a cutting wire, casting a grid on the damp stone walls below. Connell watched through half-closed eyes as two water droplets slid down the wall toward a patch of light. He wasn’t betting on any droplet in particular; simply observing their progress.

Doran spoke, his voice raspy from dehydration. They weren’t quite thirsty enough to start licking the walls, but it was only a matter of time.

“Hey, Con,” he rasped. “What time d’you think it is?”

The first dozen times Doran had asked this question, Connell had tried to make out the hour by the subtle variation in the darkness. The next dozen times, he’d responded with sarcasm. Now he didn’t even bother to reply.

“I’d wager it’s lunchtime,” said Doran. “Hey, Con. What’ll you wager it’s lunchtime?”

“Doran, we’re in a pit. What do you expect me to wager, rat bones?”

There was a pause.

“I don’t think all of these bones belonged to rats,” said Doran.

Connell had been trying not to look too closely at the pitiful heap of bones against the far wall. Now it loomed hugely in the corner of his eye, a portent of a future he didn’t want to contemplate. He turned back to the water droplets, but they had already been absorbed into the stone.

“Hey, Con.”

When Connell didn’t reply, Doran kept repeating his name until he snapped.

“What?”

“D’you think Toby and Luca made it to Fleetside?”

There was a long silence. This time Doran didn’t try to break it.

The top of the pit opened with a scream of metal. Piercing sunlight streamed down. Connell and Doran scrambled to their feet, squinting up through watering eyes. Connell could just make out dark figures high above. He had the image of hunters looking into a trapping pit to see what they’d caught for dinner.

There was a muffled discussion, too far up for Connell's straining ears to hear. Then something was thrown down. A rope ladder. It unrolled as it fell before jerked to a stop a few feet above the damp ground.

“They can’t seriously expect us to climb up,” said Connell.

Doran was already testing the ladder’s bottom rung to see if it would hold his weight. He cast Connell a scornful look.

“What else are we going to do? Stay here and starve?”

He had a point. Still…

“What if they cut our heads off once we get to the top?”

“It’ll be a better death than that poor bugger got,” said Doran, nodding to the heap of bones.

That was all the convincing Connell needed. If he was going to die, he wanted to die on his feet, under the sky, with the gods as his witnesses. Not here in a hole like a rat.

Doran was already scaling the ladder. Connell took a steadying breath and pulled himself up after.

They emerged several long minutes later, sweating, panting, dizzy with hunger and vertigo. After so long spent in the dark of the pit, even the pale gray sun was blinding. Connell wiped his streaming eyes on his sleeve. The figures swam into focus—not Dogs of Guye but a dozen armed men who wore no uniform. Still, Connell could tell they were soldiers. It wasn’t just their weapons, but their air of casual menace and the readiness with which they held themselves.

Gods above and below, Connell was sick of soldiers. Nearly as sick as he was of waiting to die. He almost hoped this lot would just kill them and have done with it.

“You’re the freedmen they call Connell and Doran?”

The question was asked by a wiry, weathered, quick-eyed man in a dark orange greatcoat. He had no symbols of office on his breast, but it was clear from the way his fellows regarded him that he was the leader here.

Connell and Doran shared a speaking look. They had no friends in this place. Anyone who was looking for them by name meant them harm.

Their fear must’ve shown on their faces. The soldier held up his hands.

“We’re no enemies of yours, lads. Got you out of that pit, didn’t we? I’m to bring you to Robert Black. Orders from the man himself.”

“Why?” asked Doran, only remembering to add “Sir” when Connell elbowed him.

“Something to do with his boy,” said the soldier, shrugging. “Anyway, you ought to be thanking your lucky stars Black spared a thought for you, busy as he is. The Dogs meant to leave you down there. They were taking bets on how long you'd last.”

Connell and Doran shared another speaking look. This time it was horror that echoed between them like the sound of a scream too deep in the earth for any living soul to hear.

“How long were we down there, sir?” Doran asked.

“Two days,” the man replied. “And no wonder you’re jumpy as cats, you must be bloody starving.” He took some bread from the inside pocket of his greatcoat and tossed it to them. “Thought so,” he said, as they fell on their portions like wolves. “I’m Tyburn, by the way.”

The name was vaguely familiar. From Doran’s reaction, he knew it.

As they followed the man—away from the pit, thank all the gods; Connell would be glad to have no more dealings with pits for as long as he lived—Doran leaned in and hissed, “Willy Tyburn, Con! He’s the Terror of King’s Road! His gang held up Lord Ambrose’s carriage, remember? The Duke wouldn’t leave the grounds for months without an armed guard.”

As usual, Doran had spoken louder than he intended. Tyburn cast an amused look over his shoulder.

“Belonged to the Duke of Chesten, did you?”

Connell and Doran exchanged guilty looks.

“Yes, sir,” said Connell. He turned his forearm to show the Duke’s mark branded there. He was so blanched from the cold that four-ringed annulet stood out like a blood-blister.

“We aren’t runaways, sir,” said Doran quickly. “The Dogs freed us.”

“I’m in the business of taking collars off slaves, lad, not putting ’em back on,” said Tyburn. “Whether in the Dogs’ camp or ours, you’re free men.”

Doran didn’t try to hide his relief. Seeing it, Connell had to tamp down a searing flash of anger. After everything Doran had put them through—after what had been done to them, to Toby, to Luca—even now, after all of it, the only thing he cared about was his precious fucking freedom.

Toby and Luca. Could they have run into Robert Black on the way to Fleetside? Luca had been a spy, after all, however difficult it was for Connell to get his head around; he and Black were on the same side. And they’d known each other in Lyonesse, hadn’t they? That brute Arkwright had said as much. Black had been one of Luca’s clients when he was still posing as a lord. But maybe that, too, had been a ruse, a cover for their meetings. Maybe Black and Luca were better acquainted than anyone knew.

The same thoughts were going through Doran’s head. In a voice too low for Tyburn to hear, he whispered, “Something to do with his boy. You don’t think…?”

Connell didn’t know what to think. But he hoped. He hoped more fiercely than he’d let himself hope for anything in a very long time.

They passed through the vast gates and emerged onto the moor. When Connell was here last, it had been an expanse of damp mist drifting over earth so barren even the snow seemed to wither as it fell. Overnight, a city had sprung up. It was a city of tents, thousands on thousands, vanishing into the far distance. Within those tents and bustling between them were twice, no, three times as many men—soldiers, Connell supposed, though few wore anything like a uniform, and some of those uniforms were in Ademar’s colors. At least half looked more like Midland peasants than battle-hardened rebels.

“Con, look!”

Connell followed Doran’s pointing finger to a group of men distinct not only for their richly-colored skin but their military bearing. These must be the Enkaaran mercenaries he’d heard about. They were certainly easier to imagine in battle than the peasants. Still, in their pale uniforms against the backdrop of gray tents and grayer sky, they looked lost, even a little forlorn, like a flock of birds blown off-course in a storm.

“Poor buggers came all the way to Castle Guye just to camp on the bloody doorstep,” said Tyburn, shaking his head. “That’s Northern hospitality for you.”

He brought Connell and Doran to a tent that would have been indistinguishable from any of the others except for its size and the sense that, somehow, the rest of the camp had been built around it. A line of people queued outside, all with that air of self-possession particular to freeborn men. They reacted with varying degrees of indignation as Tyburn pushed Connell and Doran past them and into the tent.

Judging from the bustle of activity within, they’d just entered the center of operations. These soldiers were clearly among the more seasoned. Connell even spotted a few faces he recognized from Redditch. Others were familiar from the wanted posters he’d seen in Lyonesse and along the King’s Road.

And at the center of it all was Robert Black.

He would’ve stood out even if he hadn’t been half a head taller than everyone but the barbarian who loomed at his right side. There was the red hair, of course, unnervingly similar to the color of dried blood, and the eyes that stared out of deep hollows, as hard and bright and calculating as a carrion bird’s. Connell had seen drawings of Black’s face on wanted posters—bad drawings, he’d thought at the time, but seeing their subject now, there was some truth to the depictions. He might not have the cartoonish menace of the posters, but Robert Black was the most dangerous-looking man Connell had ever seen.

Robert looked up and saw them. It was like being pinned under a glacier.

“That will be all,” he said.

He didn’t even need to raise his voice. In a moment the tent was empty. Even Tyburn melted away. The only one who stayed was the barbarian. Black’s bodyguard, Connell assumed. His was not a comforting presence.

Robert Black came around the desk and leaned against it. There was a silence; Connell measured its length in heartbeats. When at last Robert spoke, his voice was chillingly devoid of feeling.

“So you’re the so-called friends who abducted Luca.”

#the golden bird #pierrot writes #original slash #whump #slavefic #wip #tgb #sneak peak #guys this chapter is taking forever i'm sorry #in my defense there's a whole election happening and it's taking up like #90% of my waking life rn #thank you for your patience <3

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quitealotofsodapop · 3 months ago

Note

Ok but Fa Ming, Lady Yin, and Mr. Chen's reactions to not only Tripitaka becoming a demon but his 'brothers' being two former Celestial Warriors, a Dragon Pronce, and most importantly, his eldest brother and the one to teach him how to be a demon being none other than the infamous and terrible Monkey King himself.

Prev.

Fa Ming: "But son, how have you've adapted so well to your new form? I've heard tales of most virtuous men going mad from their new forms." Tripitaka: "Well, it wasn't easy... I struggled greatly with my urges, as well as my new physiology. Not to mention being seen as a fellow demon by many of the beings I encountered! I owe Brother Wukong a great debt for teaching me how to adapt." Mr Chen, paling a bit: "Did... did you just say Wukong? As in... Sun Wukong!?" Tripitaka, confused: "Yes? He's been my companion and dear friend since I first began my Journey." Lady Yin, panicked: "Isn't he the infamous Monkey King demon that was supposed to be confined to beneath Buddha's hand?!" Tripitaka: "Well I uh... let him out. And Guanyin made him come along with me as a bodyguard. We've had our ups and downs - including the surrounding incident that led to me retaining this form - but we've both grown emotionally and spiritually within each other's presence." All Three Parents: (*look between each other and sigh contently*) Mr Chen: "If you say he is a dear friend of yours, we will treat him with the respect and kindness owed. Is he around?" Tripitaka, hesitating: "Yes, but I must warn that-" Zhu Bajie: (*casually busts on in tall-pig demon form, holding Wenhou like a football*) Zhu Bajie: "Master! Brother Wujing is claiming that the piglets can't eat oranges - is that true?" Sha Wujing, holding Boguang: "I'm telling you it's true! Felines cannot consume citrus!" Wukong, appears with Tangzi: "That's true for mortal cats, but the rules can be different for demonic big cats. Master still enjoys the occasional persimmon after all." Ao Lie, part-dragon form flying in: "So we can't have candied oranges for dessert?" All Three Parents: "..." ( 0_0) Lady Yin & Mr Chen: (*both faint*) Fa Ming, chuckling: "To think once upon a time you had difficulty making friends, Liu'er!" Macaque, popping in: "Someone say my name?"

Wukong jokingly refers to Tripitaka's parents (and grandmother) as his own family for centuries afterwards. Eventually all three parents would honestly address Wukong and the rest of the Pilgrims as Tripitaka's adoptive brothers. Though it was a little awkward/surprising when the parents saw such powerful figures running around playing with the grandchildren as if they themselves were kids.

All of them mourned the mortal Lady Yin and Mr Chen's passings when they came.

The family still keeps in touch with elder Fa Ming after all these centuries, though the Buddhist master has become creaky in his advanced age.

#tiger monk au #lmk tripitaka #lmk fan children #sun wukong #lmk zhu bajie #lmk sha wujing #lmk ao lie #liu er mihou #six eared macaque #lmk aus #lmk #lego monkie kid

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sunspearesque · 10 months ago

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Fruitful

Summary: Oberyn Martell, a lover of great generosity, expresses his love primarily through acts of service. With a keen memory, he spares no effort to exceed expectations in bringing joy to his beloved.

A/N: as the world around me becomes entranced by "the orange theory," my thoughts wander to what he might do for his lover... so i wrote this; a casual smut-less headcanon using my AU, where his lover is my oc, Nala, from my upcoming multichapter fic, Whispers of Vendetta :D i hope you enjoy it, friends xoxo i also invite my fellow writers to do this with their favorite characters and share their headcanons with us <3

In the warm embrace of a Dornish afternoon, he reclined on their balcony, sharing the company of his beloved amid a plethora of succulent fruits and Dornish wine. His daughters engaged in rigorous training in front of them on the ground.

"My mother used to peel fruits for me," Nala chuckled, peeling a pear for Oberyn on the velvety lounge chair they shared. "I despised the stickiness afterward."

"Is that so?" Adjusting his position, he kissed her shoulder. "And why do you find yourself peeling fruits now?" Another kiss, this time on her neck.

"I don't know..." Turning her head to meet his gaze, she smiled. "Perhaps it's because I love you."

Unable to resist, Oberyn's arms enveloped her waist, pulling her close as he showered her cheeks with kisses, eliciting giggles from her.

"But I've never liked pears," she panted after his affectionate onslaught.

Arching an eyebrow, he inquired, "Then what is your preference, my little love?"

"Pomegranates," she answered, her gaze fixed on his lips.

"Exotic," he smirked.

"And oranges."

The Next Morning...

"Veros, I need you to fetch the preeminent farmer in Dorne and send them to Essos. Instruct them to procure the finest orange and pomegranate seeds," Oberyn commanded, his voice cutting through the air. He scanned his surroundings, his eyes piercing, as he added, "I seek nothing less than the absolute best."

"Yes, my prince."

Two Years Have Passed...

Amidst the verdant gardens behind their castle, Oberyn and Nala sauntered, the world a palette of nature's hues. Suddenly, she halted, her gaze fixated on a tree. "I don't recall this tree being here," Nala remarked, squinting to inspect the blossoms.

Smiling, Oberyn embraced her from behind, "Indeed, my love. I instructed our gardener to plant them a few years past."

"I love them." Nala whispered.

"I love you more," he thought.

A Few Years Later...

In the early morning hours, Oberyn stealthily slipped out of their chamber, having received confirmation from their gardener that the trees were poised to bear fruit imminently. For ten consecutive days, he continued this clandestine ritual, checking until the moment arrived when both trees proudly displayed bright, ripe produce. With an exuberant grin, he hastened back to their chamber.

"Nala, my love," he whispered gently, seeking to rouse her.

"What's happened? Are you well?" Nala startled awake, her eyes wide with concern. "Are the girls alright?"

"We are well, my love, fret not." Cupping her cheeks in his palms, Oberyn reassured her, his thumb smoothing over them gently. "I need to show you something."

"This early?" She furrowed her brow, puzzled by his excitement.

"Yes, come on with me."

Taking her hand, he guided her out of their bed, wrapping her shoulders with his shawl. Together, they descended the stairs, exiting the castle, and stepped into their garden.

"What are you about?" she inquired, perplexed, as he knelt before her, tapping on his shoulders.

"Climb onto my shoulders, my love."

At first, hesitation lingered in her gaze, a questioning look that suggested he might have lost his wits—my old man driven to madness.

"And your back?" she reminded him cautiously.

"Climb, Nala," he repeated, a raised brow emphasizing his determination.

Slowly, she ascended his back, perching on his shoulder, her legs dangling over his chest.

"Hold on tight," he advised before rising to his feet, moving slowly toward the tree.

The tree, vibrant and teeming with life, bore numerous flowers, yet the fruits remained elusive, concealed among the leaves, shy of human touch.

He sensed her recognition when she gasped, almost slipping from his shoulders, before he steadied her with his hands on her thighs.

"Oberyn..." she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

Squeezing her thighs on his shoulder, he conveyed reassurance—I know, my little love.

"Can you reach them?" he inquired.

"Yes," she responded quietly, sniffling. She reached out to pluck the bright oranges, three in total. Moving a few paces to the next tree, she picked the sole pomegranate. She used the hem of her nightgown to cradle the fruits before Oberyn lowered himself, allowing her to dismount from his shoulders.

Standing there, holding her gown with the fruits, tears streaming down her cheeks, her lips trembling, she looked at him—her prince, the love of her life. Loving her as if she were the sole soul worthy of such devotion. Seven years had passed, and he had orchestrated all of this because she had once reminisced about her childhood without realizing the impact of her words. He stood before her, a broad grin on his face, proud of his intricate plan. His sweat-adorned bangs clung to his forehead, his chest bare, golden, and tough—tough except when he cradled her in his arms. Dressed in white trousers with bare feet, he looked as majestic as ever. His grin waned as soon as he noticed the tears in her eyes. Swiftly, he moved towards her, cupping her face.

"Why this sorrow, my love?" he inquired, his gaze flickering anxiously between her eyes.

"Not sorrow. I just—just love you," she confessed, breaking into sobs. He enveloped her in a warm embrace, cupping her head, smoothing her hair, and pressing kisses to her temples.

Lifting her face, he kissed her gently, once, twice. He continued until joy eclipsed sadness within her. His kisses persisted until her laughter rang in his ears—and by the Gods, there’s nothing sweeter than your lover’s laughter in your mouth.

"Why did you do all of this, Oberyn?" she queried, gazing at him. "You know I relish the daily fruits we have."

"I know," he replied, kissing her again. "I want you to feel my love for you in these trees. Witness it blossom every moon, taste it, nourish yourself with it, live through it."

Because that’s what your love does to me.

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 10 months ago

Text

Vesuvia Weekly: The Marketplace Incident

~ my little written sketch for @vesuviaweekly's prompt "How Things Went Wrong (feat the Arcana familiars)". Enjoy an afternoon from the perspective of my fandom self-insert :3 ~

Word count: 1.5k

The marketplace really is the best spot to write in. The bustle of afternoon shoppers in the sunny square is a soothing view from my shaded nook, tucked between Selasi's booth and an alleyway of stairs. The steady sea breeze makes the parchment in front of me flutter, carrying the smell of spiced bread as it tousles my hair from my forehead.

"Need a refill?" The baker leans on the stone wall above the low table I'm pretending to draft my next story on. "Maybe it will help the ink flow better."

"Thanks, Selasi, but I'm afraid I've barely had a sip." I gesture to my mostly-full clay cup. "It's a good blend, though - what did you use for it this time?"

"A craftsman never shares his secrets." He hunches closer, not-so-subtly trying to sneak a peek at my handwriting. "What is today's writing about? More of our six friends' adventures, by a friendly young man whose signature is a rotting brain?"

I roll my eyes at his teasing smile. "Okay, using the moniker 'brainrot' doesn't automatically mean gruesome physical decay -"

We both jump at the sudden cat's yowl from the direction of the baker's counter. A fuzzy orange blur streaks to my corner, tiny claws digging into my shirt as it uses me as a ladder to get to Selasi's shoulder.

"Pounce? What is it, little one?"

"Bad dogs!" Faust's face pops into view, her body slowly unwinding from the cloth umbrella over me.

I barely have time to stabilize her plop onto my arm before I catch sight of two more barking fuzzy blurs tearing around the corner, a screeching raven flapping frantically after them. All three start heading in my direction as soon as they see me stand up to intervene. "Mercedes, Melchior! Come here!"

As ill-trained as I know Lucio's dogs are, the half-finished roll I hold out in their direction is more than enough to convince them. They slide to a halt in front of me, paws and tail still skittering from side to side, eyes trained on the treat. The flustered raven descends on my shoulder and Faust scoots onto Selasi's arm to give him more space.

"It's rare to see these fellows here without their owners ..." The baker runs his hand over Pounce's bushed-out tail in a soothing arc. "Did something happen?"

"What didn't happen?" I mumble in response. I don't think I recognize the strange goop Faust has left on my shirt, or the hooped earring in Malak's beak, or the concerningly pleasant smell wafting off of the dog's silky coats. I hold out my palm in front of the bird on my shoulder. "Give me the shiny, please. Which friend did you take this from?"

"Took it when I squeezed!"

"Who did you squeeze, Faust? Was it Julian?"

"Stinky count. Stole my fishies!"

The hissed voice clearly belongs to a cat, but it's not coming from the trembling ginger tabby in Selasi's arms. Pepi lopes into view on the wall above me with a smug look on her little face. Oh, right. I keep forgetting that she learned how to talk ...

"Lucio ... stole your fish?"

"Pepi earned the fishies - Pepi was a good cat and caught all the rats! Went to the docks to get the fishies, but he took them first!"

I try to piece the narrative together, noticing what looks like a pearly white owl listening in from the roof of the booth. "So ... Portia went to buy Pepi some fish, but Lucio bought them first? Where did the earring come from?"

"Master tried to help!"

"Oh, did Asra try to trade their earring for the fish? I thought his piercings closed up years ago."

Malak caws loudly in protest. Faust wiggles and bobs from her perch on Selasi's shoulder as the distant owl takes off for a different corner of the marketplace.

"Not Master's earring."

I study the golden hoop, finally catching the protective gleam in Malak's eye. "Ohh, this is Julian's, isn't it? Okay, from the top." I watch five pairs of animal eyes point back in my direction. "Portia went to get fish for Pepi, but Lucio bought them first. Asra tried to intervene, and then Julian offered an earring that he apparently owns to bargain for the fish with. Is that right?"

I almost miss the variety of nods when a thick coat of fur unexpectedly brushes across the backs of my knees. When I look down, it's right into Inanna's bright green eyes - and the torn bag of rice in her mouth. She drops it at my feet, spilling the grains across the ground and sending Malak into a flurry of indignant squawks. The wolf curls up for a nap at my heels, completely unfazed. Selasi gently sets Faust on my abandoned parchment and returns to his oven with an amused "good luck!"

"O-Okay." I drag my hand down my face and do my best to analyze the mess. "So why do the dogs smell nice, why is Faust slimy enough to smudge my ink, and why am I the one currently holding Julian's mystery hoop?"

"Squeeze the thief! Rescue the shiny! Run away fast!"

Faust bleps her tongue proudly, while Pepi takes a smug seat on the stones and the dogs begin to growl. One warning huff from the large wolf pretending to sleep behind me quietens the impending ruckus.

"And ... do I want to know about the slime and the fruity smells?"

Pepi yawns above me, slowly succumbing to the sun-warmed wall. "Beauty stall."

Faust curls herself elegantly over my story draft in an attempt to flaunt her shiny scales. "Moisturize."

"You're practically glowing, Faust. Such a beautiful girl!" Asra's trotting in my direction, a very sweaty pair of Devorak siblings close behind and a red-faced ex-count bringing up the rear. The magician scoops her up off of the table, my freshly hydrated parchment going with it, as Pepi uses the top of my head as a springboard into Portia's arms. Julian gives his judgemental raven a sheepish look before brightening at the earring in my palm.

"Did you leave us the rice trail, Faust?" Asra scritches the serpent's chin.

"Wait - rice trail? What rice trail? Is that how you knew where you were going? Where did they get - my rice!"

Inanna gives the shocked doctor a guiltily amused look, nudging the torn bag with her nose and watching the last of the grains spill onto my feet. Lucio straightens from where's been fussing over his perfumed dogs, finally catching his breath.

"Hah! Serves you right for trying to take my fish!"

Portia bristles and turns on him as Inanna slinks off to the large figure skulking in the shadows several booths away. "Your fish? That vendor and I have been friends for three years, you heard him say that I'd get first pick!"

I can't tell if Lucio is grinning or gritting his teeth. "Does it matter? I already paid for those things, they were the least smelly ones!"

"Enough!" The Countess's firm voice rings across the corner of the square, effectively halting the brewing squabble that's hijacking my writing corner. Chandra reassumes her perch on the baker's booth roof as Nadia rubs her temples in resigned frustration. "I have already paid for a year's worth of cosmetics. I have no interest in paying for your argument with a headache as well."

She heaves a tired sigh as the familiars settle in with their owners, sparing me a comforting glace. "Considering the paperless state of your table, I trust there were no writing casualties involved?"

Portia scurries over with a worried look. "Oh, I'm so glad you hadn't started yet!"

"Well ..."

"I think we did interrupt him, unfortunately." Asra's already taking a seat at my table, holding a fresh bowl of rolls in one hand and my smudged paper in the other while Faust hides guiltily in their shirt. "What's a 'ringtone'?"

Julian helps himself to the paper. "Allow me - perhaps I can shed some light on - ah!"

I've already given up hope on restoring my draft, so I don't wince nearly as badly as my friends do as a sharp, golden hand snatches my handwriting and rips it in the process. Lucio's pout deepens the further he reads. "I'm not in this."

"He's probably not finished it." Nadia holds her hand out, impervious to Lucio's begrudging surrender, and carefully offers the paper back to me. "We should leave you in peace, or you'll never meet your deadline."

Portia takes the cue and begins herding Lucio back to the docks for a fresh round of fish. Nadia gives Asra a pointed look, resulting in them stuffing the last of their roll into their mouth and rising from the cushions. They leave the last two pieces of bread for me.

"Julian," I call as he turns away, "one more question."

"Ah - yes?"

"What's the story with the earring?"

"Oh!" He flushes unexpectedly, fumbling the hoop away into his pocket. "... it, ah, it doesn't go in my ear. Adieu!"

#vesuvia weekly #familiars screwed up #ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fanfic #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson #selasi the baker #faust the arcana #malak the arcana #chandra the arcana #inanna the arcana #pepi the arcana #mercedes and melchior

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scrixtcn · 2 years ago

Text

diamonds in the sky

genre: sugar daddy/ceo!au | strangers to lovers!au | equal amounts of fluff and complicated not quite angst but angsty feelings

pairing: choi seungcheol x reader

word count: 12.2k

a/n: coups is sweet and caring but also is perfectly able to throw money at his problems for them to not be problems anymore. also him in any kind of suit kills me.

You knew this would be another one of those nights.

“This way, darlings,” the hotel manager whistles while ushering you and three other girls out of the elevator. “They won’t wait, you know.”

At the very top of the building is the hotel bar, a rather infamous location frequented by the rich and elite 1%. Word on the street had the Starlight bar as the coveted meetup for all sorts of transactions—both shady and open market deals between those seeking and those offering their “services” for a price. You belonged to the unfortunate latter, one slip-up in the contract signing you off as a female escort rather than the aspiring model that had been advertised in the agency’s flyers.

“Can I borrow some lipstick?”

You dig through your silver clutch, coming up empty-handed at hearing your fellow escort/best friend’s inquiry.

“Sorry, Hana, I don’t have any on me.”

The girl on the right hands over hers, and you stifle a giggle at the orange shade that doesn’t fit Hana’s look at all.

“Hana,” you begin slowly, holding out a compact mirror, “You might want to look at yourself before going in.”

She glances at the reflection and screams, the shrill sound startling even the manager. He turns around from his conversation at the bar counter, wondering if everything is alright. Not wanting to start a fuss, Hana nods furiously and tugs you aside, giving dirty glares to the one who offered her the disastrous tube of lipstick in the first place.

“Please tell me you have something—anything—in your bag to save my lips.”

“Well…” You look again and settle on a pack of tissues and clear lip gloss. “Maybe you can wipe it off?”

Letting out a low growl, she takes you on the offer and excuses herself from the group to freshen up in the bathroom. Left alone with the other two girls, you shrug off the questions on Hana’s outburst with an apologetic smile. No need to offer more than necessary to girls you probably wouldn’t ever see again.

Once the bartender announces that the guests in the private rooms are ready and waiting, you start to follow the others, only to be held back by a firm hand.

“One of the clients is arriving late,” the manager informs you, “Can you go to the 3rd floor instead?”

You frown. “This wasn’t what was paid for.

“And why me? Why me and not them?”

“You were handpicked,” the manager answers, giving you a once-over. “Y/N, right? He said you’d be wearing a black off-shoulder dress with frills?”

The exact description of your outfit brings bitterness to your tongue. There was only one person who knew exactly what you’d be wearing tonight—the guy who had gifted you the dress during one of your nights with him the week before.

“Fine,” you grumble, “But tell Jeonghan he owes me double from what he usually pays.”

—

Yoon Jeonghan was a snake if you ever saw one.

You were never able to pinpoint why he was so infatuated with you, always eager to see you whenever your paths crossed during your other “work events”. There were times when he even called the agency to specifically ask for your company, earning yourself the title as “Jeonghan’s favorite” amongst your colleagues. Maybe he did like spending time with you. Or maybe… maybe he just wanted a new toy to play with after he got bored with his other girlies.

As expected, Jeonghan extends his arms for a hug the moment you get out of the elevator to the 3rd floor, a gesture you purposely avoid to show your displeasure at being pulled aside from the group call you had agreed to.

“Who stepped on your tail?” he asks coyly, giving a mock bow to kiss your hand. “Love the dress, by the way.”

“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight,” you answer crisply, “Let alone pull me aside to cater to whatever scheme you’re plotting right now.”

He laughs, a devilish sound like you just stumbled right into his clutches. “Everything will play out as it always does.”

A card key is tossed your direction before you can press on for more details.

“I need you to keep a look out for my friend. He’s staying in this room.”

You catch it before it falls to the floor and study the card. VIP Suite. Not an ordinary person by the looks of it.

“Why me?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t trust anyone else but you.”

Hearing Jeonghan mention trust brings an unexpected cackle from your throat. Since when was the devil trustworthy?

“I’m serious,” he repeats, turning tail and holding up a hand. “Take good care of him, sweetheart.”

“Wait, I don’t even know how he looks like!”

You watch as Jeonghan leaves, his figure growing smaller and smaller down the hallway. With a huff, you walk down the hall, stopping once you locate the correct room. One swipe of the card key and you find yourself stepping into the biggest space you’d ever seen at Starlight. The room not one of your caliber can easily enter, you find yourself frozen in place until you remember what Jeonghan had said before he left.

I need you to keep a lookout for my friend.

Shaking off your shoes, you step barefoot onto the carpet and wiggle your toes in excitement at exploring the space. Jeonghan never said you couldn’t look around while waiting for his friend.

“Whoa…” There is a whole separate hallway linking to the bathroom and bedroom, the entire suite no different than a service apartment targeted for long term stay. Obviously, luxury took precedent—even the sliding glass doors leading to the outdoor Jacuzzi are shined to perfection, the lights catching glimmers in contrast to the slowly darkening sky. Stepping back inside, you pranced around the open kitchen, where there’s a small stove for cooking next to the fridge.

“Well equipped.”

Midway into digging through the fridge for a bite to eat, you hear the door click open and startle, bumping your head atop the inner ceiling of the icebox.

“Who are you?”

Shuffling backwards, you shake your head and meet the dazed eyes of a drunken man. Tie in hand, his shirt is unbuttoned and to be honest, you weren’t expecting one of Jeonghan’s friends to look so slovenly at the first meeting.

“Hi, I’m—”

His chest heaves, and you have the shock of your life when he throws up directly onto the carpet and the conveniently placed heels you had taken off to freely explore his suite.

God dammit.

—

Seungcheol doesn’t remember a thing when he opens his eyes the next morning, yawning as he sits up in bed. There had been drinks sure, but the exact amount remains a mystery after blacking out last night. How he made it back to the hotel was also a story for another day when he sees the cheerful grin of his friend sitting directly next to.

“You were quite a mess last night,” Jeonghan snickers, handing over a glass of water. “I didn’t know you had it in you to drink so much.”

“I…” Taking the water, he drinks and a flickering memory surfaces in his mind.

“Was there someone else here?”

Jeonghan chuckles. “You really don’t remember what you did to her last night?”

“What do you mean?” Panic settles in his throat and he immediately puts down the glass, grabbing Jeonghan by the shoulders. “What… What did I do?”

“You…” Jeonghan breaks into laughter mid-explanation. “You threw up all over my friend’s shoes, that’s what.”

Oh, shit.

—

Hana hadn’t stopped laughing once she heard about your unfortunate night, irritating you to no end when she brings it up again during weekend brunch with her sister.

“So Y/N goes down to the guy’s suite,” Hana reiterates, waving her fork in the process, “Looking around, and the guy just throws up once he’s inside. All over her shoes, too!”

“I swear, I will knock your mimosa onto the floor if you bring it up again.”

Unfazed by your empty threat, she shifts her glass to the other side and mimics throwing up, an all-inclusive experience with sounds of vomiting and contortions of her face in disgust. Her sister tries to keep a straight face, but you can see the giggles already starting to break through from the tightened lips.

“Okay, laugh,” you sigh, giving in to the inevitable. “Poke fun at my misery after having to walk home in wet and smelly heels.”

Giggles echo around the table, catching the attention of the other guests at the restaurant. You pick up your cutlery knife and angrily cut apart the omelet on the plate, mutilating the yellow pillow of egg with other meats and veggies tucked inside.

“it’s just so funny,” Hana snickers, letting out the last laughs before taking a deep breath and making a zipping motion over her lips. “That’s it, I promise.”

Her sister does the same, promising to leave it at that.

“Did you manage to get his number at least?”

You shake your head. “He was out like a snuffed candle after he finished throwing up all over the floor. I had to call room service and make sure they put it on his tab before I left.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Hana exchanges a glance with her sister and her sister proceeds to take out a business card, sliding it over to you. “Which is why I had my sister get it for you!”

“Huh?”

Her sister pushes up the glasses rested on the bridge of her nose. “I asked my journalist friends and they told me it’s him.”

You pick up the business card and read the name printed in black font.

“Choi… Seungcheol?”

“He’s the CEO of the hotel chain that Starlight is under,” your friend’s sister continues, “Quite a big name, so there’s always someone keeping tabs on him.”

“You should give him a call,” Hana insists, “Get compensation for your shoes, at the very least.”

“I don’t know…” You fold up the business card and stuff it in your purse. “I’d rather not get reminded about what he did.”

“It’s only right he gives you back a new pair of shoes!”

Your phone rings before you can offer a rebuttal, it being no other than the guy who had gotten you into such a mess from the start. You accept the call and hold the phone close to your ear, not giving the sisters a chance to eavesdrop.

“Hi, Jeonghan.”

“Are you free?” his voice chirps through the speaker. “My friend said he wants to apologize for last night.”

“I…” You stand up from your seat, mouthing goodbye to your friends while walking to a quieter spot to answer his call.

“I don’t really want to see him, if I’m being honest.”

Jeonghan whines at your hesitation. “He really feels bad and wants to make it up to you, sweetheart.”

“If anything, you should be the one to make it up to me!” you snap, voice raising outside the restaurant doors. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t—”

“Fine,” he relinquishes, “It’s my fault and I’ll pay triple if you go meet with him. Do it for me, please?”

Mention of the extra pay tickles your taste buds, but you push down the thought with a huff. He takes it as agreement and blows kisses from his end, offering to send his limousine to pick you up after asking for your current whereabouts. He was always like this, agreeing to anything and everything if things went his way. You didn’t like being pulled along to his whims, but didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness to you either.

The limousine pulls up in a matter of minutes, quicker than you expected. Perhaps he had been in the area, the driver offering a quick bow once he recognizes it’s you he’s picking up.

“Young Master Jeonghan said to drop you off at Starlight, miss?”

“Wherever he said to go, that’s where I’m going,” you reply, making yourself comfortable in the back. “He didn’t tell me where.”

“Understood.” He hops back into the driver’s seat and shifts gear. “We will be at Starlight shortly.”

—

“Hey.”

It’s strange how you know which table to go to once you arrive at the Starlight bar, the lone figure before the dry martini somehow pulling at your heartstrings as you slide into the seat next to.

“Do you… remember me?”

He looks up, and you nearly have a double take. This Choi Seungcheol looked nothing like yesterday’s drunken state. Today he is soberly dressed in a dark pinstripe suit, hair slicked back. The silver ring on his pinky knocks against the counter as he taps his hand on the surface, gesturing for the bartender. He proceeds to order a shot of tequila—Jeonghan must have told him your usual go-to drink before you arrived.

“No,” he admits, “But Jeonghan said I threw up all over your shoes?”

The memory brings back unpleasant thoughts. Panic at his passed-out figure by the door after he finished vomiting, frantic calls to room service and emphasizing for them to put the service charge on his tab…

He notices the grimace on your face and apologizes again.

“I’m terribly sorry you had to clean up my mess.”

You wave it off, nodding in thanks to the bartender who brings over the shot of tequila.

“It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” he presses on, lifting the martini and consuming half the cocktail in one long sip. “I can make it up to you.”

“It’s just a pair of shoes, no big deal.

“Another shot of tequila, please.”

The bartender holds up an ‘OK’, which makes you smile and you spin to face Seungcheol.

“If you want to make it up to me, Mister Choi, can you treat me to another round of drinks?”

He does a double take at hearing his name, garnering a chuckle from your parted lips.

“It’s not hard to get information about someone as well-known as you.”

Seungcheol cracks a smile at your words. “I didn’t know I was so popular.”

The second shot of tequila makes its way before you, accompanying it a second martini for Seungcheol courtesy of the bartender.

“Cheers? You’re forgiven for throwing up on my shoes, Mister Choi Seungcheol.”

“Just call me Seungcheol,” he laughs, a hearty sound that echoes warmly across the bar when the glasses clink. “But really, this won’t do when I ruined your shoes.”

“Hmm… I can’t think of anything now, so l’ll take a rain check on your offer.”

“Then I’ll have Jeonghan give you my number. That way, you can call me once you decide how you want me to make it up to you.”

◇

You never did call Seungcheol to cash in on his offer, not one to insist on compensation for something as trivial as ruined shoes. Vomiting happened when people drank a bit too much. It wasn’t like those shoes were valuable or even held any sentimental value (they were gifted by a former colleague after she left to sign to a rival agency with better pay and benefits).

Jeonghan had pestered you for a week asking why you never contacted his friend, but you held your ground and purposely ignored his calls whenever he asked about you contacting Seungcheol, rendering you going without pay that week due to not seeing him. Curse the clause in your contract that stated you had to attend individual calls at least three times a week or else pay from group calls would be forfeited entirely to the agency.

“How much longer are you going to play hooky?”

Hana stands by the desk in your room with a bag of chips in hand, digging into the bag while waiting for your response. Crumbs trickle onto the floor and you get up from bed, shooing her out to stand by the door if she had to eat while talking.

“You’re sweeping these up yourself if you take one more step forward while eating your chips.”

She rolls her eyes and reaches for another chip. “You heard me, missy. No pay means no rent. No rent means you and I are going to have to sleep on the streets.”

“I know,” you enunciate, crossing your arms in distaste. “I’ll figure something out before the end of the month.”

“I’m holding you to it,” Hana declares, flicking a chip crumb your direction. “You said you’d figure it out.”

“Get out before I hand you the broom to sweep up my room.”

Once she leaves, you close the door and sigh. The end of the month was coming up in three days’ time. You’re sure Hana isn't the type to save either, so likely you’d have to cover her share (or part of it) as you usually do. Her big spending always end in maxed out credit cards every month, an amount not even help from her sister can cover to pay in full as you liked.

Jeonghan usually more than willing to offer financial assistance, your latest cold war with him had turned him to call for other girls to accompany him to parties or other work events. No way in hell were you going to ask him for help.

Perhaps…

—

“Welcome to Andromeda, do you have an appointment?”

You swallow nervously at seeing the crisp beige wallpaper and red sofas lined around the corners for those waiting to see the CEO to sit at. Everything screamed precision and order, two things you never had in your line of work as an escort. Even the receptionist’s white blouse and black pencil skirt were neater than the scuffed blue denim dress you picked out of your closet just an hour prior.

Talk about two different worlds.

“I… I do,” you lie, crossing your hands behind your back. “Can you tell Seung… Mister Choi he owes me a new pair of shoes?”

The receptionist looks up at you from her computer and you put on your best smile.

“Please? Your boss will understand.”

If there is the slightest sigh from her parted lips, you miss it, digging your nails into your palms as she picks up the telephone and dials into his office. To your delight, she hangs up and proceeds to gesture for you to enter. You nod in thanks and uncross your hands; the nail marks leaving indents on the skin, you quickly rub your palms to soothe your frantic nerves and push open the doors.

Seungcheol looks up from his desk and blinks twice at seeing you in person. A rare sight that has him standing up, mouth widening to a grin when he recognizes you.

“I was wondering who it was that I owed a pair of shoes.”

You smile and take a seat. “I’m glad you still remember.”

“What’s the occasion?” he asks, sitting back down and sliding his documents and files aside. “You could’ve texted me; you have my business card.”

“Can you lend me some money?”

Straight to the point, it catches him off guard and he asks you to repeat it to make sure he heard it right the first time. You reiterate the request for a loan and watch carefully as he leans back in his chair.

“What’s it for?”

“Rent,” you begin slowly, “I have three days before the end of the month when it’s due. And…”

“And?”

“I really can’t think of anyone else to help me but you, Seungcheol.”

His face is expressionless, and you continue in hopes to move him enough to lend a helping hand.

“I’m sorry if me coming here unannounced was rude. Really, I… Jeonghan’s been annoying me and I’ve been ignoring his calls because all he does is ask if I had you compensate me for ruining my shoes that night. In… In my—”

You flourish a hand around the phrase ‘line of work’. “In my line of work, there’s a clause with my agency that states escorts have to take individual calls at least three times a week or else pay is turned over entirely to the management company. I haven’t been paid in the last two weeks and you’re the only one who can help me this time.”

The silence in his office is overbearing, so thick in the air that you nearly make a notion to get up and open the windows until he breaks the silence himself.

“You’ve been ignoring Jeonghan’s calls?”

“Y-Yeah,” you mumble, taking out your phone to show him the call history. “Even have his number blocked.”

The tiniest snort breaks way into a full bout of warm laughter, the same laughter that tickled your insides from your first meeting with him at the Starlight bar. Clearly he is amused by your answer, even delighted at the fact that you’d been ignoring Jeonghan.

“No wonder he’s been sulky,” Seungcheol chuckles. “All because his favorite escort girl wasn’t answering his calls.”

Still laughing to himself, he reaches into one of the drawers and takes out a checkbook. You watch as he grabs a pen from the container on his desk and scribbles an amount onto one of the checks, tearing it out and handing it over once he signs off on it.

“I hope this is enough?”

You glance over the amount written at the top right and hold back a gasp. It was more than enough. Enough to pay for the next three months, enough to pay off Hana’s credit card bill overdue from last month, enough to even treat yourself to some new dresses to wear to work after subtracting the necessary expenses first.

“I…”

“Do you need more?”

“No,” you blurt out, reaching your hand out to take away his container of pens. “It’s… It’s too much.”

An arched eyebrow and his curious gaze pierces straight through you; you fidget a little but proceed to reaffirm your stance on his check.

“It’s too much. I only need enough to pay for this month’s rent.”

“Then consider the rest my compensation for a new pair of shoes.” He gestures to his pens and you quickly hand them back, embarrassed by your rash behavior to someone kind enough to lend money for your troubles.

Picking up the fallen check from across the desk, Seungcheol stands up, offering the much-needed money to you again.

“This check is yours. Even has your name on it and everything.”

Hesitant fingers eventually grab hold of the check and tuck the slip carefully into your cross-body bag. Taking a deep breath, you bow in thanks and he hurriedly makes his way around to hold your hands.

“No, no, don’t do that,” he blubbers, panic settling in his eyes. “I-I didn’t mean to sound mean, really—”

“You’re very kind, Seungcheol.” Rubbing at your eyes, the budding tears of gratitude are flicked away and your lips widen to a grin that uproots the tension and anxiety about making ends meet. “I’m glad I blocked Jeonghan’s number on my phone.”

He laughs at your remark. “Well, it’s not every day I see him sulk and get flustered, so it was worth every penny.

“Are you free tonight, by the way?”

The question catches you by surprise. “Tonight?”

“For dinner,” he explains, “To celebrate being able to pay rent for next month.”

“You want to treat me to dinner with more of your money?”

“Sorry,” you wince, taking a step back, “I didn’t intend to sound so… harsh.”

Seungcheol shakes his head. The hint of the smallest smile dances around the corner of his lips, one that carries a bit more than amusement and awe at your sharp words.

“It’s fine. It means you have nothing to hide from me.

“So dinner at 7pm tonight?”

You nod, tucking the memory of the smile to the back of your mind.

“I’d love to.”

—

Dinner with Seungcheol didn’t just happen that one night, but for (surprisingly) many more consecutive nights. You might have already sampled every single high-end restaurant featured in the local magazines at this rate, candlelight dinners in the presence of one of the richest men in the city with complimentary wine and dessert. Seungcheol also had a habit of greeting you with a gift each time he picked you up from work, the gesture bordering on more than mere friendliness whenever you consulted Hana about it.

“He likes you,” she had said in the simplest explanatory manner, “Maybe he even sees himself as a sugar daddy of some sort to you.”

The term eliciting a nose scrunch and firm shake of your head, you firmly tell yourself that cannot be. Surely it’s anything but that when you technically still owed him money. Why would he want to spend time (and more money) on someone indebted to him?

—

“Bestie, your boo’s calling.”

You look up from the dresser, lipstick in hand. “Who?”

“The one and only Yoon Jeonghan, that’s who.”

Capping the lipstick, you get up and head out to the living room. Hana gestures to the phone still ringing on the coffee table, two pieces of chips in between her manicured fingers. Scooting past her, you scan the screen and a pang of disappointment tickles your bones when you see it really is Jeonghan calling and not someone else.

“Hello?”

“Finally remembered to unblock my number?”

His crisp tone does little to faze you.

“Should I re-enter it to my block list?”

“Well, no.” There’s sniffling on his end, and you overhear a distant sneeze. “I was just checking to see if you really unblocked me like Cheol said you did.”

Tingles tickle your stomach at hearing Seungcheol’s name, but you push it down with a huff.

“You know I’m a woman of my word, Jeonghan.”

“I do. Which is why I’d like you to go out to buy some soup for me right now.”

“What?” You check the time on your phone and it’s already 7:15pm. “I can’t get soup for you. Me and Hana are having a girls’ night out today.”

“Please. You’re the only one who can do this for me.”

“Jeonghan, can’t you just—”

His voice is muffled, and you catch the tail ends of a cough when he resumes speaking into the phone.

“I would stay here to take care of him, but there is a dinner I absolutely cannot miss out on, sweetheart.” Desperation laced in his pleas, Jeonghan’s voice is muffled again and you stand stumped at the cutoffs in the conversation. The phone call then ends altogether, leaving you even more confused when the entire thing sounded like an emergency.

“What the fuck?”

Your phone then pings with an incoming text, complete with pictures of a bedridden Seungcheol next to a mountain of used tissues and the address to deliver the soup to once you bought it.

“Hana,” you begin once you tuck your phone into the back pocket of your jeans. “I can’t go with you tonight. One of my friends is sick.”

◇

You will never forget the look of relief on Jeonghan’s face when he opens the door to Seungcheol’s VIP Suite at Hotel Celestia, a Choi establishment on the other side of the city.

“Thank god you’re here,” he sighs, rummaging into his wallet and taking out two of his credit cards. “Use these if you need anything else.”

Gone before you can even say goodbye, you hold up a hand and wave anyway, closing the door. The lights are on the dimmest setting once you step in, the choice to keep your shoes on a firm one after the fiasco from your first meeting. This time, the suite didn’t hold the luxurious feel it should’ve had for a hotel suite, but rather an emptiness at the lack of another presence besides the coughing heard from around the corner.

“Seungcheol?”

Around the corner, you spot the mountain of used tissues on the floor and see him bundled up in bed. Picking your way through, you set down the container of soup on whatever space is left on the nightstand and slowly place a hand on his forehead.

“You’re burning up.”

Somehow you take on the role of a nurse for the remainder of the evening, shuffling from the kitchen to heat up the soup to the bathroom and back after cleaning up the tissue mountain and messy bedroom. Washing your hands diligently after touching all the germs, you pull up a chair and take off the towel on his forehead, feeling his temperature again.

“Not as hot as before.”

As quietly as possible, you lean forward and tap him on the shoulder. Seungcheol stirs, eyes barely open when he feels your touch.

“Jeonghan called me over,” you explain, “I brought some soup, you should—”

He mumbles something you fail to catch, and when he repeats it you realize he’s not calling for you in his feverish state.

Who is he asking for?

Seungcheol blinks, and he quickly shakes his head when he notices you sitting before him.

“H-Hi.”

You offer a wave and gesture at the now-cold soup.

“For you. Courtesy of Jeonghan.”

He nods and you hand over the container of soup, which he drinks straight out of in large gulps.

“T…Thanks.”

Taking the empty container, you nod and set it down before speaking.

“You still have a bit of a temperature, but it’s a lot better than before.”

His eyes more energetic than earlier, Seungcheol shakes his head and looks at you with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry you had to… see me like this.”

You cross your legs and fiddle with your fingers, the unknown name bugging your mind. To ask or not to ask, especially when he is unwell.

“Did… Did you eat?”

“Sorry,” you blurt out, standing up from the chair. “I… I have to go.”

“So soon?”

“Yeah, I…” Without looking at him, you grab your purse and hurriedly wave, not catching the last bit as you take your leave.

—

“Rent’s due again, bestie.”

You gesture at the envelope sitting on your desk. “Give that to the landlord when you see him later.”

Hana skips towards your desk and picks up the envelope. A low whistle twinkles through the room at the stack of bills nestled inside.

“You got this from Seungcheol?”

“Jeonghan,” you correct her, “I asked him for a favor and that’s what he gave me.”

“I thought Seungcheol was your new sugar daddy now.”

Picking up a pillow from your spot on the bed, you throw it at her and she quickly dodges.

“What did I say wrong now??”

“He’s just a friend,” you mutter, digging deeper into the covers. “Nothing more.”

“Girl, he was taking you out to dinner every night and getting you all those exquisite gifts. I don’t think that’s something a regular friend would do.”

Poking your head out, you let out a guttural scream and she leaves, closing the door behind her while taking the envelope. No longer in the mood to sleep, you kick the blankets off and sit up. Ever since his sick day, you’d been avoiding Seungcheol like the plague—ignoring his texts, purposely not picking up his calls, using Jeonghan as an excuse whenever he tried to ask you out on the off chance he crossed paths during your other calls. If Jeonghan had noticed you were playing the ghost card he didn’t show it, not one to pry when he was back on your good graces.

A vibration buzzes from your nightstand and you reach over a hand; panic lights up in your eyes when you see the caller id. The phone rings for two more times, then buzzes again, this time from your roommate.

“What is it, Hana?”

“Can you come out here? There’s someone here to see you.”

“Wait, who in the—” You hurriedly get out of bed and change to a set of more presentable clothes. Fixing your hair, you brush out any knots and rush out.

“Is the landlord here early, I saw you take the money…”

Your words fade when you see who is standing next to Hana in the living room.

“I’m sorry,” she mouths, holding up two envelopes (the second one equally as thick as the one she took for rent). “He said I can have another envelope of the same amount if I can get you out of your room.”

She scurries away before you can scold her for taking bribes and you sigh, a deep breath echoing across the four walls.

“Why are you here?”

Seungcheol adjusts the collar of his white silk shirt. “You wouldn’t take my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Busy enough to ghost me but free to spend time with Jeonghan?”

The barb in his words is prickly, and you take a step back when he moves forward.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you murmur, unable to look him in the eye. “I mean, technically no.”

The gentlest of touches rests on your face and you muster the courage to look at him. Concern pools in his eyes as he studies your silence, lips contorted to a frown.

“You can tell me,” he reassures you. “You know I’ve never said no to you.”

The kindness unusually sharp, it digs into your heart and you wince at hearing his words.

“You need to leave.” Pushing him aside, you walk to open the front door and look away. “I can’t do this today, Seungcheol.”

“Wait, but—”

“Please.” You stand your ground. “You need to leave.”

He gives in, head low as he takes his exit. Once he fully passes through the threshold between your apartment and the hall, you slam the door shut and slump to the ground. You didn’t know why you were so frustrated at him over a name. This angry curiosity you’ve been carrying around since that day…

Not jealousy, no. But it festers like an untended wound, threatening to consume your insides the longer you leave it unchecked.

“God, this fucking sucks.”

◇

“Cheol brought these for you.”

You gloss over the Celine handbags, trying hard to not stare at the vintage pink one that had been out-of-stock for weeks. You mentioned it to Seungcheol once as an off-handed comment when he took you to the store to get you a gift, wistfully staring at the empty rack when the saleslady regretfully informed him they were out of that color for the bag. He promised to keep an eye out for it and apparently had taken it to heart, finally managing to get the pink one you wanted so long ago.

“The smaller leather ones are very you,” Jeonghan muses, holding up each one in curiosity. “He knows your taste.”

“I don’t like this brand anymore,” you lie, shaking your head when he offers them your way. “Give them to your other girlfriends.”

He waves his hand, and one of his household staff comes forward to take away all the handbags.

“You know I’ll only keep them here until you’re in the mood to take them home.”

Glaring at his cheekiness, you scowl and he slings an arm over your shoulders.

“What did Cheol do this time to mess up your pretty smile?”

“He… You remember the day he got sick?”

“Yeah.”

“He… He was calling for someone else. It was a girl’s name, but I didn’t recognize it.”

“…Then he still hasn’t forgotten about her.”

Jeonghan notices your tense posture and sighs.

“It’s not my story to tell.”

“But,” you begin, unable to hide the tremor in your voice. “But… Don’t you know a little… a little bit? Can’t you tell me a little bit?”

“I can’t.” Jeonghan releases his hold on you and stands up. “It’s really not my story to tell.”

Not even the puppy-dog eyes that usually worked wonders proves effective in prying open Jeonghan’s mouth, rendering you hopeless while pouting on the couch. He notices and takes your hand, pulling you up from your seat and squeezing your fingers for reassurance.

“Come on, I’ll treat you to dessert instead.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Not even matcha crepe cake? It’s the newest flavor at the dessert place you like so much.”

Unable to resist, you accept his hand and follow him out.

“Fine, but you’re paying.”

—

Maybe deep down you’d already known a man like Seungcheol would have a story to tell. A story he kept hidden from his closest friends, one he keeps close to his heart with vulnerabilities he has only shared with one other person.

You knew you weren’t that person, yet you couldn’t help but want to be the more you ruminated over the mysterious name. The her he clearly still wanted to see again despite their extremely publicized breakup. She, who moved on and was now married to the heir of one of the richest real estate firms in the country. The paparazzi periodically did feature spreads on whatever snippets they managed to snap of the couple’s private life: brunches, cocktail parties, pool fun, outings with their two children, etc. They looked happy, smiles all around.

He had been happy for her. When you first brought up the magazine to him after doing your own research on the matter, you hadn’t caught the look of wistfulness in his eyes then, but now…

Now it made sense. The silence, diverted glances, abrupt changes in topic, it all now made sense.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

Startled, you turn your head and find yourself not at home, but in a private room at the Starlight bar. Just short of knocking the cocktail glass off your neighbor’s hand, apologies trickle from your parted lips and he chuckles.

“Jeonghan, you didn’t tell me she’s the airhead type.”

“She’s usually not,” Jeonghan muses, waving a hand in front of your face. “What are you thinking about?”

Ignoring his prying, you turn to his friend and offer another wave of apologies, raising your own glass of water.

“Buy her a drink, Joshua,” Jeonghan nags, “It’s the least you can do for taking my favorite girl away from me.”

“No, it’s okay,” you blurt out, not in the mood to drink tonight. “I’m not—”

“She doesn’t want a drink,” Joshua retorts, swinging an arm around your shoulder. “I’ll keep her company while—”

The door to the private room squeaks open, interrupting Joshua mid-sentence. You look up and freeze, not expecting to see Seungcheol of all people standing by the entryway. Jeonghan notices the growing tension and stands—ushering Seungcheol to sit—but Joshua is oblivious, grandiosely introducing you to his friend (whom he didn’t know you were already on very familiar terms with).

“She’s with me tonight,” Joshua smiles, closing the gap between you and him. “But she doesn’t seem to be warming up to me.”

Seungcheol turns to you with his eyebrows raised.

“Are you and Joshua together now?”

It rubs you the wrong way, the way he asks the question. Why was he so quick to assume you already had somewhat of an intimate relationship with Joshua when you just met the guy today?

Jeonghan spots the fire in your gaze and extinguishes the flame with an interjected “No”, slapping Joshua’s arm off your shoulder and squeezing himself in the middle. One hand rests on your thigh, a comforting touch that helps in stilling the building anger and snappiness crawling up your throat to be spat out.

“Sorry, she’s with me actually,” Jeonghan smiles, “I’ve been booking her consistently since—you know—since you stopped asking for her.”

“Wait, she’s not—”

Joshua holds his tongue after seeing the sharp glance from Jeonghan, promising to call you again as he excuses himself to leave the tense atmosphere in the room. The trio of you, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan now alone, Jeonghan is the first to break the silence.

“I’m going to let you and Cheol have some time to sort out your problems,” he says to you, standing up and shaking his head when you tug at his sleeve for him to stay. “Call me when you’re done.”

You throw a glare at him, one that Seungcheol overlooks as he bids goodbye to Jeonghan.

Not liking the situation one bit, you reach for Joshua’s glass and down the margarita in one go, the burn in your throat akin to liquid courage for the upcoming confrontation.

“You scared off both my clients,” you begin with a huff. “Just because you’re also rich like them doesn’t mean—”

“Then I’ll pay triple for tonight,” The words slide off Seungcheol’s mouth smooth as honey. “You won’t be missing out on the two of them when I can pay for their share as well as mine.”

He scoots closer while you instinctively slide to the left. The gesture brings a scowl to his face and your hands curl into fists.

“I do not appreciate being bought out like that, Mister Choi.”

“I didn’t…” He licks his lips. “You were the one who kept avoiding me!”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” you lie, angling your body away. “My schedule has been fully booked each time you reached out.”

A heavy sigh leaves his mouth. Clearly he picked up on the fact that you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

“Can you at least tell me when you’ll have more free time to meet with me?”

“I don’t know what I am to you, Seungcheol.”

He pauses, clasping his hands together and resting them on his knees.

“Care to explain why you think that way?”

You bite your lips, glancing back at him. He is as patient as ever while waiting for you to answer, and that is when you knew you had to come clean for your own sake if not his own.

“I… Who was it you were calling for that night you were sick?”

It’s funny how you can practically see the gears turning his brain, Seungcheol practically an open book to everyone around him. Never one to keep secrets (or someone able to keep a secret), but clearly even those who are usually open books have their own share of hidden chapters within the pages.

“I didn’t know,” he begins carefully, eyes downcast. “I didn’t know Jeonghan had called you to stop by.”

“Are you still thinking of her?”

“…No. She is happily married now.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything the first time?”

He tears his gaze away from the floor, fingers digging into his knuckles as tears pool in his eyes.

“Because I’m scared you won’t believe me when I say I feel nothing for her anymore. I’m scared of how much I don’t want to lose you when I realized I was starting to fall in love again.”

—

Much to Jeonghan’s disappointment, you had gone home with Seungcheol that night, his hand ever so tightly grasping yours while leaving Starlight. Making sure to let your roommate/best friend know of your whereabouts, you send her a quick text that you’d be staying at Seungcheol’s place and she all but replies back with a “:P”. No doubt her dirty mind expected more than just a good night’s sleep.

Nothing happened that was out of your expectations: an offer for a fresh change of clothes, shower, a late midnight snack (he had virtually nothing in his fridge but you weren’t hungry anyway), and sleeping in his bed while he set up camp in his study. You sense he wanted to elaborate on where things had ended in the bar, from the constant side glances and hesitation at even touching your hand when he brings over a clean shirt and pair of gray sweatpants in exchange for the pink pleated mini dress you chose to meet Jeonghan and Joshua in. It’s one thing to hear him out, but another to recharge and clear your mind after such an eventful night with some space and well-needed sleep.

Sleep was minimal, perhaps the enormous size of his bed daunting and keeping you awake with the thought of him tucked away in his study. He looked no better (dark eye bags and large yawns) alongside the messy bedhead and nearly bumps into the bathroom door if you didn’t alert him after freshening up.

“Did you have a good sleep?”

You turn around from your seat by the open kitchen, mug of instant coffee in hand.

“I slept…okay.”

Yawning, he nods at hearing your answer and shuffles towards the fridge. His hair still sticking up on all ends, you have half a notion to get up and run your fingers through his dark locks to smooth it out when hearty chuckles echo across the kitchen area.

“Something wrong?” you ask, getting up and placing down your mug of coffee by the sink.

“I…” Seungcheol turns to face you with a sheepish smile. “I have absolutely nothing in my fridge for you to eat.”

“That’s fine. Jeonghan actually bought me dinner before we went for drinks at Starlight.” You grab the mug and take another large sip. “Plus, I usually skip breakfast on weekends anyway. Coffee is enough.”

The refrigerator closes softly and Seungcheol holds up his hands in defeat.

“Guess I’ll wait until later to eat too, then.”

“What, no, that’s—” You usher him out of the kitchen and towards his room. “Go change.”

“Change?”

“Get changed,” you clarify, “I’ll treat you to breakfast.”

—

You knew fast food was the last thing on his mind when you pull Seungcheol into the McDonald’s at the corner of the street.

“What is this place?”

Your mouth drops. “Choi Seungcheol, are you telling me you have never been to a McDonald’s before in your entire life?”

He returns an awkward grin, interest reclaimed by the large screen for self-ordering.

“You just tap here and then click pay?”

The disbelief is thick in your voice as you mutter away while ordering two Big Macs and French fries, ignoring his murmurs of awe at all the choices available on the menu.

“What’s this one?”

You follow his finger at the Happy Meal. Of course, he would ask about that one.

“That one comes with a toy.”

His eyes light up at the mention of a toy, and you aren’t surprised when he taps to include one Happy Meal into the order. Refusing to let him pay, you beat him to it once the order is confirmed, delegating him the responsibility of finding a vacant table while you wait to pick up the food from the front. The wait is thankfully not too long, and you spot him sitting at one of the tables by the window while looking extremely out of place in his purple dress shirt and black slacks.

“Do you always dress so formally?” you speak up the moment you place down the tray of food. “Even for something as simple as eating fast food?”

“I didn’t know you’d be bringing me here,” he replies, tunnel vision for the red box containing the Happy Meal. “This is the one with the toy, right?”

You nod, hiding a scoff as you watch him tear into the box. His eyes shine at the sight of the blue toy car and its driver, excitement prickling in the surrounding air.

“Wow,” you marvel at the large shell and ferocious jaws of Bowser, the character Seungcheol received in his Happy Meal. “Of all the ones to get from the Mario franchise, you get the one that’s the evilest.”

The shock on his face catches you by surprise, and you can’t find it in you to tease him anymore when he looks devastated at the idea.

“I’m just playing, Bowser’s cool in his own way.”

“He’s going in my office,” Seungcheol murmurs, tucking the toy away into the front pocket of his slacks. “Keep me company during the day.”

“Suit yourself.”

He reaches hesitantly for one of the burgers and unwraps it. You watch his reaction and snort at the look of awe on his face as he takes one, two, three more subsequent bites. It was the first time you had seen anyone so excited over fast food—let alone something as trivial as McDonald’s.

“May I?”

He hovers a hand over the French fries and you hand him the entire container.

“Eat your heart away.”

He must not eat fast food often, judging from the glow in his eyes. The Big Mac demolished in seconds, now it is the French fries that are tossed into the cave that is his stomach. You can feel the curious gazes of those around your table and continue to pick at your own burger, small bites all throughout.

“That was delicious,” Seungcheol hums, leaving no crumb of potato behind. “I can’t believe I’ve never had this before.”

“Fast food is common for people like me,” you laugh, crumpling the wrapper once you’ve finished eating. “It’s not as exciting as you’re making it out to be.”

He follows you like a puppy when you get up and clear the table, tossing the trash and putting the tray away before opening the door for him. The passerby all stare at Seungcheol like he’s an alien, the formality in his outfit sticking out like a sore thumb especially from the entrance to a McDonald’s. You try to walk fast to not catch attention, but the sudden grip on your forearm catches you off guard and you pause.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re still here.”

“People are staring,” you sigh, easing his hand off you and interlacing your fingers to his. “Let’s go before they start asking questions about what someone like you is doing near a McDonald’s.”

The walk somehow turns into a window shopping adventure, Seungcheol stopping every few feet to stare at stores that catch his eye. He pulls you in after him despite your protests, making a lap around but not buying anything like he usually does. Clothing, makeup, even the local coffee shop catches his attention like Christmas had come early this year. Each time you humor him by letting him pull you in, no different from the role of a parent monitoring an excited child.

It stings your heart when you realize he was having fun because he probably never had the opportunity for such simple pleasures in life. Eating fast food or window shopping were things of minimal priority to his daily schedule, not like meeting with important clients or managing an entire social hierarchy of employees and upper management as CEO to one of the largest hotel chains in the city. People always say the sky’s the limit, but right now it feels as though there is an astronomical distance between his world and your very own.

So how is it possible for the silver spoon that is Choi Seungcheol to fall in love with you, the dullest utensil in the tray?

—

It would be unfair to assume he wasn’t interested in you.

Nearly everyone said the same: he liked you, he loved you, he clearly saw you as more than a friend or even one of the girls he chose to spend money on. He didn’t act like a mere sugar daddy who dropped thousands on you without breaking a sweat. Seungcheol had pretty much confessed the night he caught you at Starlight, no Jeonghan for you to use a shield to deflect to.

“So do you like him or not?”

You roll your eyes at your roommate, unamused at her habit of barging in without knocking.

“Hana, do you want to take him off my hands instead?”

She wiggles her eyebrows. “I’m not against the idea, but ask anybody and they can see he only has eyes for you.”

Scoffing, you turn your attention back to the open closet and settle on a black mini dress with a contrasting white collar. The bow tie and sleeves adding just the right amount of elegance, you pick it up and show it to Hana, who wrinkles her nose at seeing your choice.

“It’s cute and all, but sleeves?”

“What would you pick?”

She eases herself into the array and sifts through. Fingers expertly parting each hanger, she snaps her fingers once she finds what she deems worthy to wear for the night: an off-shoulder red satin dress with a high slit.

“No,” you refuse, ignoring her objections. “It’s just a cocktail party.”

“Then you gotta look the part! Who goes to a cocktail party wearing something an office secretary would wear?”

Against your protests, your roommate insists on her dress of choice, even to the point of placing herself directly in front of your closet door so you had to physically push her aside if you wanted to switch dresses. Knowing how stubborn she can be…

“Okay, I’ll stick with this one,” you sigh, holding up the red dress. “Black heels good?”

She nods in confirmation, giddiness taking over when she spots your makeup bag on the dresser.

“Can I do your makeup? You’ll catch everyone’s attention for sure once I’m done with you!”

“…Just don’t go too crazy.”

—

Sometimes you wish you weren’t so kind.

There was clearly a reason why your instinctively felt the urge to follow a monochromatic color scheme. The sea of black suits and white gowns said it all, yet here you are in a shade of red that stuck out like bloodstains on a clean towel.

Did she know ahead of time? Impossible when she hadn’t even been invited.

Was the universe out to get you? Most definitely.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Looking up from your glass of champagne, you take the offered hand and squeeze. Jeonghan’s eyes widen, surprised at your iron grip.

“Hey, I’m not the one who didn’t follow the dress code.”

“I was coerced into wearing this,” you groan, throwing up your hands in defeat. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“Well, you look beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

Snorting at your half-hearted thank-you, Jeonghan offers a hand and you take it, comforted by his presence as he introduces you to the other guests. Not one to socialize much at these types of meet-and-greets between the elites, you plaster on the politest smile you can muster and let Jeonghan do all the talking. Occasionally you hear your name mentioned and chime in a word or two, but anyone can see your mind wandering if they look closely, costing you your first mistake of the night when your fingers lose their grip on the half-empty champagne glass. The spilled liquid leaves a stain on your shoes, déjà vu eliciting a thin smile at the memory of walking home barefoot while holding a pair of smelly, vomit-clad heels.

“You okay?”

“Sorry, I…” You smile apologetically. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Go that way and then take another left at the corner.”

Apologizing again, you pick up your dress and quickly walk towards the left. Curiosity drips from the onlookers of the red dress flapping about, but luckily no one stops you on your way to the bathroom.

No one except…

“You’re here.”

Your brain comes up empty while trying to think of an excuse to get away from Seungcheol, and he offers an enthusiastic grin at seeing you at the party.

“Did you arrive with Jeonghan?”

“He sent his driver,” you answer, shuffling your feet anxiously. The sign to the ladies’ room is practically two leaps away. “Saw him just a few minutes ago actually.”

“I see.”

Before he can continue, you rush past him and nearly collapse onto the tiled floor once you enter the bathroom—sinks empty and stall doors open. Slamming your hands on one of the sink counters, you take a deep breath and catch sight of your winded reflection in the overhead mirror.

“I look like shit.”

Checking to confirm the stalls are void of others, you give yourself a quick pep talk and take more deep breaths, steadily calming down before fixing your makeup. Another glance at the mirror, and you’re surprised to find Seungcheol still standing where you had left him once you leave the bathroom.

“You’re still here.”

He looks up from his phone, shoulders relaxing before tucking away the device.

“Wanted to see if you were okay when you practically sprinted in there.”

“I’m okay,” you hum, brushing off imaginary dust from your arms. “Just needed some air.”

Nodding, Seungcheol then extends an arm for you to hold.

“May I have this dance?”

You pause. Instinct tells you to pull back, but the earnest look in his eyes is too strong to resist. Slowly, you take his arm and the smile on his face practically lights up the entire room despite the dimmed glow of the ballroom fixtures. Dimmed lights, slowed music for a waltz, the ambiance almost rivals Cinderella’s first dance at the prince’s ball.

But you aren’t Cinderella, and you break away before the magic can end at midnight.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, shaking your head. “I—”

“Is it because of my ex?” Reaching into his back pocket, Seungcheol takes out his phone and taps on the screen, pulling up a text thread for you to see.

“I was just telling her I finally found someone I want to be with,” he continues, “She wished me good luck right before I asked you to dance.”

“Why me?” you sniffle, holding back the brimming tears in your eyes. “I’m… I’m just another escort.”

“You’ve always been honest with me. That’s more than what all the other girls could ever offer when I’m just another bank for them to extract money from.

“And you even showed me McDonald’s,” he adds with a hearty chuckle, “It was the first time someone has ever treated me to such a delicious meal.”

“Seungcheol, that’s—”

“I love you,” His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you for just being you.”

—

The heart knows what it wants. People can get muddled by what they see and what they hear, but the heart ultimately knows what it wants. And in trying to convince yourself otherwise, you had somehow gotten hold of Seungcheol’s heart before you knew you even wanted it.

“Can you please go see him?”

“I can’t.” You bury your face in your hands. “I don’t want to know how he thinks of me after I walked out on him like that.”

Hana rolls her eyes, not understanding your self-induced predicament. “The guy literally told you he loves you.”

“So? He’s someone who can have whatever he wants with a snap of his fingers when I’m just a—”

“Don’t you start calling yourself a nobody when you’re not.”

The remainder of your sentence falls short. Just like her to know exactly what you wanted to say.

“Enough about him, then,” she sighs, taking your hands and swinging them ever so slightly. “Are you certain you want to terminate your contract with the agency?”

“I really can’t do this anymore.” The risk of running into Seungcheol when you were contractually bound to serve others like him is too much for your mental health to withstand. Even though he was totally the type to fill your schedule exclusively for his company so others couldn’t book you, your conscience couldn’t live with the notion of him throwing even more money your way when you technically left him hanging after he confessed his love for you. “I’ll figure something out if things don’t go through, but I really need you to start budgeting and saving for the end of the month to pay for rent.”

“Okay, Mom, I won’t buy new clothes or bags when you have extras in your closet for me to borrow.”

Rolling your eyes, you shake out of her hold and take the lead in heading inside the building that housed your escort agency. To your surprise, the usually empty lobby is filled with boxes and lines of people filing in and out.

“What’s going on?” comes the curious question from behind you. “Looks like a shitstorm in here.”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, not knowing where to look at the elevator doors that continue to open and close with movers coming down with furniture and other fixtures to move out. “It seems like the entire place is shutting down.”

“Does that mean the agency is also…”

The two of you exchange a glance and make way towards the elevators, squeezing through the movers to find an elevator heading up rather than down. Once the doors open at the fifth floor, you follow her out and don't know what to make of the now vacant space that used to be the escort agency.

“What on Earth…”

Stripped bare of furniture and other knickknacks such as the familiar plants and backboard listing each escort’s daily scheduled “meetings”, the place reminds you of a freshly renovated office space ready to be leased out for a new term.

“Are we jobless?”

You don’t know how to answer the question, still processing the sight of the vacant agency when low murmuring catches your attention. From down the hallway, you spot none other than Jeonghan and the conniving witch who had conned you into signing the escort contract in the first place walking your direction. Hana puts up her middle finger on sight, but lowers her hand when you usher for her to step out before things get ugly.

“Aren’t you meeting with that one guy today? What’s his name, again, Jun?”

“I can just cancel. He’s kind of too quiet for my taste.”

“It’s not right to bail when he already paid upfront,” you convince her, “I’ll ask Jeonghan what’s going on and update you in the evening.”

“But—”

“I know you’ve been eyeing one of my Celine bags; have this Jun take you on a shopping spree to get you one.”

Already knowing she’s sold on the idea of using her date as today’s ATM machine, you shoo her away and watch from behind a corner once Jeonghan and your “former boss” stop by the front entrance. Picking up hints of an alleged “takeover” and “waste of money”, you hold your tongue until Jeonghan is alone, debating whether to reveal yourself from your hiding place when he places a hand over his mouth and coughs knowingly.

“I saw you from a mile away, sweetheart.”

You stand from your crouched position, wincing at the slight numbness in your legs.

“What’s going on? It’s completely empty here.”

He smiles, tilting his head back at the sight of the empty space.

“I bought the place!”

“You what?”

“Technically, my name was used to buy out the agency,” Jeonghan clarifies, chuckling at the absurdity of cleaning out an entire establishment with his money. “It was a completely one-sided proposal but I can’t believe it still went through.”

“Who asked you to buy out this place?” You try your best to not cry but the water in your eyes is already pooling along the corners. “I… We… How am I supposed to pay for my living expenses if I’m suddenly out of a job?”

“Sweetheart, it’s not a bad thing—”

“What would you know?” you yell, fed up with the whims of the wealthy. “You don’t know what it’s like to live paycheck by paycheck! You and your friends are silver spoons from the very moment you were born! I am sick and tired of being toyed with like—”

Jeonghan reaches a hand into his blazer and thrusts a business card in front of your face, successfully shutting you up when it drops onto your outstretched hands.

“Here’s the contact for the new owner of the building. Go talk to him if you need someone to yell at because that person is not going to be me.”

—

“Please wait here. Mister Choi will meet with you shortly.”

You nod awkwardly, thanking the receptionist after she sets down the requested cup of coffee. Leaving the coffee untouched, you close your eyes, praying your guess on the identity of this Mister Choi will be proven false when you hear the approaching footsteps. Not daring to look up, you open your eyes and grab the coffee mug, nearly staining your white dress with splashes of mocha from the quick swipe of your arm.

“I can have someone bring in a new dress if you need it.”

“Why did you do that?”

A scraping sound against the tiled floor, and you manage to lift your head up at the figure that takes the empty seat before you.

“Do what?” Seungcheol asks innocently.

It’s irritating, the subtle smirk on his face. The corners of your mouth twitch and he notices, leaning forward with his hands clasped together.

“You know what you did,” you grumble, refusing to entertain his antics. “Mister ‘I just bought out your agency because I have the money to’.”

“For starters,” he begins, knocking a hand on the table. The silver ring sitting on his pinky catches a glimmer from the faint sunlight, eliciting the memories of drinking tequila with him at the bar. “I didn’t buy out the building entirely for you. It was a business decision agreed by my board of directors to expand the hotel chain.

“Secondly, the proposed amount for this building and clearing out its tenants has no relation to you when Jeonghan was willing to pay half as a personal favor.

“And most importantly,” Seungcheol murmurs, voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing other men just to make ends meet, so I did what I had to.”

You sit speechless, not knowing what to say as he gets up, eyes downcast.

“Even if you don’t choose me, I still want you to be happy. Of course, after I calculate the exact amount of compen—”

His eyes widen at the sudden tug on his sleeve, and you get up from your seat, snaking your arms around him before he can slip away.

“Why do you do the things that you do for me?”

He chuckles, turning around with a gaze full of love and adoration. Paired with the hints of the dimples in his grin, you finally realize he’d given his heart to you long before he even knew he had already done so.

“Because I love you and want you to be able to do the things you want to do. You mentioned you initially wanted to be a model, so I’m planning on turning this building into a modeling agency for you to pursue that dream.”

“Choi Seungcheol, you—”

He shakes his head, pleased that you hadn’t reprimanded him. “My board approved the acquisition, but ultimately I make the final call on how to repurpose the building.”

“I hate this,” you mutter, “I hate you for doing all this for someone like me.”

“You hate me?” he echoes. “Should I make a call to resell the building, then?”

Unsure if he’s joking or serious, you hit him lightly and he takes it with a warm laugh, a sound that tugs fondly at your heartstrings.

“I love you.”

—

“So when’s the wedding?”

You nearly choke on your drink and your best friend/roommate snorts, not understanding your reaction to her question.

“You and Choi Seungcheol have been dating for almost a whole year now. Men like him are bound to have butterflies fluttering around trying to get some of that good stuff.”

So much has happened since the events prior, from the initial meeting over a soiled pair of heels to avoiding him like the plague when you found out he loved you and even bought out your contract from the escort agency for you to be free from their shackles. Not one to take anything for granted, you made it clear to him from the beginning that it was never about the money, but he liked to think of it as an additional way for him to show how much he loved and wanted to take care of you in the blossoming relationship.

“You really should put a ring on it so people know he’s yours.”

“Hana, don’t you think it should be the other way around?” you refute, scowling at her assumption at marriage being a surefire happening. “I mean, Jeonghan still claims I have every right to choose someone else until I’m officially not single anymore.”

“Please, your Seungcheol will be out for blood if Jeonghan tries anything funny.”

You snuff out the cough growing in your throat, fully aware of Seungcheol’s slight possessive streak.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

The gloating look on her face says it all, but you take a pause on forming a rebuttal when you feel the vibration of your phone against the nightstand. Sensing you wanted privacy, she closes the bedroom door behind her when she exits and you pick up to a breathless sounding Seungcheol on the other line.

“Are you running?”

“C-Can you meet me now?” he pants, sharp intakes of breath in between each word. “I… I got something… something important to give you.”

“Where?”

“I’m actually—”

The line cuts off before he finishes his sentence.

“Seungcheol?”

No response, and you rush out of your apartment, frantically pushing the button on the elevator that eventually takes you all the way down to the main lobby. He never broke off midway through a phone call, what if—

“Hey.”

You bite back a retort, balling your hands into fists and run at full speed, punching Seungcheol square on his chest when you spot him standing by the bus stop at the corner of the block from your apartment building.

“You idiot! I thought something happened to you over the phone!”

He frowns, not understanding your panic until he offers the cracked phone in his hand towards you.

“I dropped my phone mid-conversation on the ground and the screen cracked. Is this what you’re referring to?”

“Unbelievable.” You pull away, but he grabs your hand just as you fall out of reach.

“Cute,” he smiles, his other hand taking out a small box from the pocket of his white jacket. “Here’s a gift for being so worried about me.”

“You called me out just to give me a gift?”

The raised eyebrow does little to erase the growing pout on his face, and you roll your eyes before taking his gift, revealing a stunning flower-shaped diamond ring sitting within the cushioned jewelry box.

“W-What is this?”

“I’m sorry for not being more formal,” he apologizes, “I had my driver bring me directly to the jeweler when they called and said the ring I wanted was ready for pickup.” Gesturing to his casual white zip-up jacket, blue tee, and matching white pants that completed his rushed morning look, Seungcheol smiles awkwardly and gets down on one knee, catching you completely by surprise.

“I don’t look like a man about to propose, but I really hope you’ll say yes?”

“Choi Seungcheol, this is the most comfortable outfit I’ve seen you in since we started dating,” you laugh, easing the ring out of its box and placing it onto your finger. “I’m not going to say no when you came to me dressed down like this.”

The beaming grin on his face says it all, and you give him a peck on the cheek once he stands up.

“I’ll need to check with my assistant, but if it works for you, we can hold the wedding sometime in… September? Of course, feel free to tell me what ideas you have and I can make it happen. We can book an entire—”

You put a finger over his mouth to stop him from rambling, excitement practically dancing from every inch of his being at the thought of planning the perfect wedding.

“I’m perfectly happy with a simple vacation wedding plus honeymoon.”

“That’s it?” The disappointment in his voice couldn’t be more clear. “Just a vacation?”

“Mhm. Just a simple around-the-world trip will do.

“In fact, why don’t we go right now?”

“Now?” he echoes, “I still haven’t found contractors to revamp the building I bought for you.”

“That can wait,” you groan, checking the sign by the bus stop that announced three minutes before the next bus arrives. “I’m not in a rush to start work when I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts!” The bus rolls closer and closer until it is only one red light away. “You can make your calls to arrange for passports and everything else on the way to the airport, but let’s go before we miss this bus!”

Waving down the bus driver with a furious wave, you take note of the secure fingers wrapped around your right hand. A comforting yet trusting touch, you know Seungcheol is equally on board with the idea despite the initial hesitation at the abrupt proposition to leave everything behind in his hectic corporate world. Rash and borderline irresponsible when he oversees so much in his business on the daily and has an entire pyramid of people dependent on him to make executive decisions, there’s little to change his mind when he’s finally able to go along with what he would like to do for once in his life.

“You know I’ll go wherever you go.”

#seventeen scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #svt #scoups #svt scenarios #seventeen fanfic #scoups fanfic #i have forgotten how to tag this shall suffice for now

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