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3rachasdomesticbanana · 10 months ago

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Side Effects | Han Jisung

•Synopsis: Your science loving nerd of a roommate Jisung has been acting strange but that's not what has fear coursing through your body. It's the feeling that someone's watching you when you're supposedly all alone, the objects moving seemingly on their own and the phantom intimate touches that has you on edge.

Are you going crazy or is there something or someone in the apartment targeting you?

•Pairings: science geek Jisung x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, mentions of hauntings & hallucinations, lies and secrets, slight non-con?, somnophilia, unprotected & protected p n v, pervy Jisung, masturbation (m + f not mutual), cliffhanger, Chan makes an appearance a few times

an: if I missed something and you feel it should be included in the content warning please kindly let me know in the comments ♡

Part two will include more scenes with Bang Chan but Jisung is still included. Part three, which will be the last part, will be Jisung.

Part II

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⚠️tiny warning before continuing: there are moments where reader is unaware of what's happening due to being sleep. these moments may appear as non consensual which is the reasoning for the slight non-con warning. I tried make it known that any sexual activity that happens is welcomed. I hope I was able to convey that. Just a heads up lol. Enjoy♡

Your roommate, Jisung, is a nerd. You mean that in the most affectionate way, of course, but it’s true. When he's not helping the chemistry professor at the local college in his free time, he's experimenting in the apartment or researching different chemicals and compounds. His room is a chaotic mess of beakers, test tubes, and textbooks, everything he needs to create something from science. In the two years of living here, It’s never bothered you. Just as long as he and his equally nerdy friend, Chan, don’t blow the place up or set anything on fire. In fact, you’ve grown quite used to the faint, yet sharp scent of various chemicals wafting through the apartment over the years.

Today, the scent of acetone and metal permeates the small apartment. Jisung and Chan have been working on something for months, the two of them locked away in Jisung's cluttered bedroom. When you ask about it, they just shake their heads with a smirk and say, “Top secret, y/n.” You roll your eyes but smile, understanding their need for secrecy. You respect their space and their experiments, no matter how strange it makes them act, always offering to clean their beakers and test tubes whenever you're washing dishes. The dynamic between you and Jisung is what makes the roommate setup work.

Jisung couldn't believe his luck. Not only was his roommate hot and open minded but a gamer who's always down for a Naruto or Bleach marathon. He was so grateful that you weren't like the stuck up pretty girls he dealt with in highschool. Jisung really felt comfortable with you, he could be himself without fear of feeling like his IQ was lower than what it actually was. So whenever he and Chan were close to a scientific breakthrough and you never asked too many questions it only caused his “little infatuation” as he calls it, to grow.

One evening, you find yourself in the kitchen, hands submerged in soapy water as you scrub away at the dishes. The random playlist you chose earlier plays softly in the background and the faint scent of lemon from the dish soap mixes with the clean, crisp scent of freshly laundered towels, filling the kitchen air. You’re lost in thought, your mind drifting as you methodically clean the plates, forks, and glasses, when you feel a sudden, inexplicable chill. It’s as if a cold breeze has brushed against the nape of your neck but the windows are closed and the AC isn't on. You shiver involuntarily and glance around, half expecting to see Jisung standing there. But the kitchen is empty.

You shake your head, chalking it up to just a random chill and turn back to the sink. The sensation lingers, though—a prickling awareness like you're not alone. For ten minutes it felt like someone was there in the kitchen with you but each time you looked around, no one would be there. You could hear faint tinkering and music from Jisung's room and you knew he was working with Chan. The cold is back as you finish up the last of the dishes and when you turn around again, you nearly drop the plate in your hands. Jisung stands there, silent and unexpected. Brown eyes behind round framed glasses shine at you and he gives you an awkward smile.

"Where did you come from?" you ask, your voice higher than usual.

"Sorry," he says with a shrug. "Didn’t mean to scare you, just needed a drink."

You laugh nervously, feeling your rapidly beating heart slow down. "Jeez Ji, you should wear a bell or something." You let out a breathy chuckle.

He shrugs again and laughs quietly before grabbing a drink from the fridge and disappearing back into his room without another word. The interaction leaves you confused and slightly unsettled. Well, that was strange… stranger than usual. There’s something off but you can’t quite put your finger on it. You shouldn't really be surprised by strange behavior when it comes to Jisung but he's never acted that strange before.

Over the next few days, strange happenings become more frequent. Objects begin to move on their own; a cup slides across the kitchen counter that you barely just noticed and a book falls from a shelf behind you while you watched tv. You find yourself jumping at shadows and sounds and now you're convinced that the apartment is haunted. Of course you haven't said anything about it, Jisung would more than likely think you're crazy.

One evening, you’re gaming in the living room. Headphones on, fully engrossed in the game, when your can of soda just sort of levitates a few inches off the coffee table before gently coming back down. The controller slips from your hands as a cold sensation moves across your cheek. You jump back and scream, calling out for Jisung, but it’s Chan who saunters into the room. Curly hair wild, lab coat askew, and glasses perched on his nose.

"Jisung’s in the bathroom," he says, noticing your wide eyes and pale face. "What’s up y/n?"

"The can... it moved on its own." You stammer.

Chan chuckles, shaking his head. "Must be a temperature change or something. Science can explain a lot of weird stuff, y/n."

“Channie, it fucking levitated! Can science explain that?!” you say in a half shout, half whisper looking up at him.

“Mate, chill out.” He gives you a sympathetic smile and walks over to you to pat your head. “Science can most definitely explain that. I can show you how if you want? I'll just need a few supplies for the demonstration.” His eyes light up and he smiles wide at you, showing off his dimples.

“That’s… okay, Chan. You don't need to do that.” The lack of enthusiasm in your voice isn't missed and he chuckles, patting you again before leaving the room.

You’re not convinced, but you nod to yourself and try to focus on the game, occasionally glancing back at the can. The feeling of being watched never truly leaves, though. Every day you start to notice more—subtle things, like the way Jisung’s eyes linger on you a fraction too long, or the odd satisfaction in his smile when you mention the hauntings after you caved and told him. Jisung's watchful eyes make you feel like you're part of one of his experiments, like some sort of test subject. He's always been a bit weird at times, but this is a whole different level of weird for him. You shrug it off as stress or lack of sleep since he and Chan have the tendency to overwork.

The night is warm tonight, the air heavy with the lingering heat of the summer day. You sit in the black metal wicker chair on the balcony, a book loosely cradled in your hands, listening to the sounds of traffic and crickets below. The warm summer breeze drifts across your skin and you adjust your tank top and shorts that have already begun sticking to your skin from the heat. With a sigh, you look down at the worn paperback book in your hands and try to focus on the words.

You’re half-aware of your surroundings: the breeze, the faint smell of an impending rainstorm, the sounds of the city. It’s peaceful, lulling you to sleep. Your body relaxes, and the book slips from your fingers, resting across your lap. You're in a state somewhere between consciousness and slumber when you feel it.

It's subtle at first, like a feather brushing against your skin, but it soon shifts to the feeling of hands. The touch is hot and insistent, groping your breast under the thin fabric of your tank top. Panic surges in your chest and you force your eyes open, heart pounding in fear. You sit up, the book slipping from your lap and landing with a soft thud on the concrete floor.

You glance around, trying to make sense of what you just felt, but the balcony is empty. You glance down and your breath catches in your throat. Your left breast is exposed, the strap pulled aside in a way that couldn't have happened by accident. A cool breeze brushes against your bare skin, a stark contrast to the phantom heat of the touch you just felt. You pull your tank top back in place with trembling hands, looking everywhere but seeing nothing. Scrambling to your feet, you slide open the glass door and step inside, locking it behind you.

With your heart still thundering in your chest, you make your way to Jisung's room. When you knock on his door, you hear shuffling, the sound barely audible over the whir of some machine inside. He opens it a little and you’re momentarily stunned by the sight of him—disheveled hair, sweaty brow, black-framed glasses askew and wearing an oversized black hoodie.

"Can I help you?" he asks, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

"I think…” you sigh and brace yourself. "The apartment is definitely haunted." you blurt out.

Jisung looks shifty, eyes darting to the side but he quickly recovers and a skeptical smirk plays on his lips. "Haunted? Really, y/n?"

"I’m serious," you insist. "I think something just touched me. Out on the balcony." You point a finger in the direction of the glass door.

Jisung’s brows knit together and he steps out of his room, closing the door behind him, giving you his full attention. "Like... someone was out there?" He messes up his hair even more, running his fingers through the dark strands.

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. "No, there was no one there when I opened my eyes but it felt hands on me Ji. I don’t know how to explain it."

His eyes darken with a mixture of skepticism and concern. "So you think the place is haunted and that a ghost touched you?" You nod, your heart still pounding in your chest.

He places a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you, if only slightly. "Sounds like you were in REM sleep. Dreams tend to feel real and vivid in that cycle." He gives you a sympathetic smile and adds, "Maybe it’s just your imagination."

You narrow your eyes at him. "I’m not imagining this, Ji." You say starting to feel frustrated.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, y/n. I’ll look into it, alright?"

Reluctantly, you nod and walk to your room with more questions than answers. As days pass, the strange activity continues. You catch glimpses of movement from the corner of your eye, feel phantom touches on your skin, and hear whispers that have no source. You're starting to feel like you're going crazy.

Jisung’s behavior becomes stranger. He spends even more time locked away, emerging only to grab food or ask you cryptic questions about your day. You start to suspect he knows more than he’s letting on but every time you ask, he deflects with a nervous laugh and spouts some scientific theory. Even Chan is acting odd, though he's usually the more grounded one among them. Not by much—Chan's a weird one too, but it’s part of his charm. He’s an adorkable dork.

The two men are lounging on the couch tonight, eyes glued to the anime playing on the screen, while you're in the kitchen preparing popcorn for the three of you. The scent of melted butter fills the air as you pour it over the freshly popped kernels.

Suddenly, Chan's voice cuts through the ambient tv noise. “You did what?!”

Jisung quickly shushes him, their heads whipping around to you as you turn to look at them, each wearing an identical, innocent grin. Weirdos, you think, shaking your head, tossing the popcorn.

You missed Jisung's whispered confession to Chan about his antics on the balcony. Chan already knew about the mysteriously moving objects and the true cause behind them. It's because he was partially involved. He and Jisung had created a liquid that granted invisibility to the drinker. Their top secret experiment they were working on for damn bear a year was almost near perfect. After successful trials on mushrooms and lab rats “borrowed” from Jisung's chem professor, they decided to take it a step further. Jisung volunteered as their human test subject, and you became the unwitting participant in their trails.

Chan never imagined Jisung would push the boundaries so far though, especially by groping you. But Jisung couldn't resist. Initially, his plan was to give you a harmless scare, maybe brush against your arm. But when he saw you asleep, your tank top revealing the side of your breast, his self-control vanished. He was overwhelmed by a primal urge and it was like his hands were moving of their own accord. He gently pulled your left breast free and gave it a firm squeeze. His mouth hovered inches from your skin, ready to kiss the mound of flesh when you woke with a start.

“Bro, I don't know if you should be taking so many doses. We're not sure if there's any side effects.” Chan cautions, his voice barely audible as you rejoin them in the living room.

Jisung stays silent, unable to respond to his partner as you settle on the floor in front of them, handing over the bowl of hot popcorn. Chan’s concerns echo in Jisung’s mind. He knows Chan is right, but the thrill of invisibility is intoxicating. He revels in the mischief, in watching you unaware of his presence. The moments when you think you're alone, wearing nothing but that oversized Tokyo Ghoul T-shirt and panties, are his favorite.

Every time you reach for a cup or a plate, the hem of your T-shirt lifts just enough to expose a tantalizing glimpse of your ass. When you bend over, the thin material of your thong outlines your pussy, making him feel certifiably insane. Sometimes he would intentionally knock something over just to watch you pick it up. The sight of you bending would make him painfully hard and he'd have to slip away to his room, unable to resist the urge to jerk off to the image that was now burned into his mind.

Jisung’s addiction to the elixir grows with each use. He tells himself it's all in the name of science, to see how much is needed for long-lasting effects but deep down, he knows it's because he can’t get enough of watching you unseen. He needs to be closer to you.

One night, Jisung decides to take things further. Pretending to go out to help the professor at the college, he sneaks back into the apartment quietly, slipping into your room while you’re in the shower. The steam fills the air of your bathroom, the hot water cascading down your body. As you stand under the spray with your back to him and eyes closed rinsing your hair, you remain oblivious to his presence. The glass door to the shower is slightly ajar, giving him a perfect view of your wet body. His breath hitches as he frees his hard cock from his sweats. It’s as if he has no control over his impulses; the need to cum clouds his thinking or maybe it's the elixir that's got him feeling this way? He rubs the palm of his hand over the head of his cock, coating it with precum. When you bend over to shave your legs, he almost cums at the sight of your bare pussy.

Jisung’s eyes are glued to the space between your thighs and the way the water bounces off your skin as the steam rising around you. He bites his lip to keep quiet, thinking, “So beautiful.” His hand moves faster, and he's bucking up into his closed fist until he can’t hold back any longer. With a muffled groan, he cums hard, splattering onto your ass and mixing with the water, washing away unnoticed by you. If only the elixir made his semen invisible too, he'd probably always cover you in the warm, wet fluid like this. He knows he would.

Watching you becomes a nightly ritual for Jisung. He drinks the pale teal liquid that is the invisibility elixir and sneaks into your room. He watches you during intimate moments, like when you fuck yourself with your fingers before bed. He hears you moan his name occasionally when you bring yourself to multiple orgasms and it only adds fuel to the fire. He never thought you found him attractive.

To him, you’re way out of his league. But watching you climax to the thought of him is a dream come true. His obsession grows, and he becomes bolder, unable to resist the urge to touch you while you sleep. Each night when you fall asleep, he lightly runs his middle finger up and down your cunt over your pajamas while he fucks his hand. The soft moans you let out in your sleep never fails to make him cum.

One particularly hot night, you decide to sleep naked on top of your covers. It's impossible to be comfortable when your pajamas stick to your overheated body. You’ve just had an orgasm and you lay there, sated and relaxed waiting for sleep to take over (though you really should get up to pee). Jisung watches you from the corner of your room, his cock painfully hard in his hand. He's lost track of how long he's actually been in here watching you. He waits until you're deep asleep, your chest rising and falling steadily, before he moves closer to your bed.

He can’t resist the sight of you, legs spread apart, pussy glistening. He begins to stroke his cock standing at the foot of your bed but it’s not enough. Before he knows it, he’s slipping out of his sweats. The bed dips as he crawls onto it but you don’t stir. He pushes your legs apart more, his breath catching as he sees just how wet you still are. Slowly he rubs the head of his cock against your folds, shuddering and the sensation. He tells himself “Just the tip,” but when he pushes into your opening, your pussy clenches around him and he can’t stop. He pushes deeper and deeper, burying himself inside you, freezing when you make a soft moan.

He waits, barely breathing before he starts to move slowly. You feel so warm and tight around him. He knows he should stop, "This is so wrong!" his inner thoughts yell at him but it feels too good.

“Fuck, Y/N, you're so wet.” he whispers in the dark, feeling bolder.

Slowly he moves but soon each thrust becomes more desperate than the last. He has to stop himself from slamming into you so that he doesn't wake you.

“Slowly… slowly… ah! Oh shit.” he mumbles quietly. “Is this what you were imagining when you came moaning my name, y/n? Hm? Were you imagining my cock pumping in and out of this tight cunt? Oh fuuuck, mm.”

His legs soon begin to shake as he watches the way his cock disappears inside your dripping cunt and slips out again, leaving his length covered in your creaminess. It's too much—the sight, the soft sighs you're making in your sleep. He pulls out just in time, pumping once into his hand before he's cumming onto his palm, careful not to leave any evidence behind.

He takes one last look at you, still sleeping, before he tiptoes out of your room and back into his. Had you woken up, you would've caught sight of Jisung cumming into his hand above you. The elixir wore off just as his orgasm hit him. He lays in his bed still feeling the lingering sensation of you squeezing his cock with your pussy and it takes a lot to not down more of the pastel teal liquid that sits on his desk and go back into your room to fuck you again.

“How can I make it last longer? There's got to be a way to lengthen the invisibility time frame without taking too many doses,” he mumbles to himself, looking up at the ceiling and lazily stroking his cock. He cums hard minutes later, moaning loudly into his pillow, replaying the sound of you moaning his name in his head and falls asleep peacefully with a smile on his face.

The next morning, you’re up early, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in your hands. A blank sleepy expression on your face as you stare off into space. Jisung joins you, wearing his best poker face.

"Hey, y/n," he says, trying to sound casual. "Sleep well?"

You nod, your eyes, however, tell a different story. "I had a weird dream. It was so vivid... so real. It felt a lot more real than the one I had on the balcony."

Jisung’s stomach churns with guilt but he forces a smile after pouring his own cup of coffee. "Dreams can be like that sometimes. Maybe it’s stress or something."

"Maybe," you murmur, stirring your coffee absentmindedly. "It’s just... I woke up sore." Your face heats with a blush thinking about your activities before you fell asleep last night. Maybe you were too rough? But then why do you feel like you were stretched out way beyond your two fingers?

He swallows hard, trying to keep his expression neutral and ignore the growing sensation of his cock as he sits down across from you. "Sometimes dreams can manifest physically. Your mind is very powerful, you know."

You nod slowly, still feeling doubtful. You know that something strange is going on around the apartment but it's just your testimonies with no hard evidence.. Soon the conversation shifts to more mundane topics and Jisung couldn't be more relieved but the tension remains between you. Throughout the day, you barely see him. Even when Chan came by, Jisung didn't come out of his room. You got the weirdest feeling that he was avoiding you.

“Maybe he's just tired of hearing me complain about my delusions,” you wondered to yourself stirring a cup of chamomile tea.

You spent the time you weren't working convincing yourself that you were indeed experiencing some stress-induced hallucinations. Who were you to doubt someone as smart as Jisung and Chan? A week off of work would do you some good—maybe you'll give yourself a spa day, binge on junk food, and catch up on some anime.

Meanwhile, Jisung and Chan worked hours and hours trying to study their creation further. Jisung's secret of what he did last night stays that way. A secret... No way could he tell Chan—he'd probably stop the experiment, maybe destroy all their hard work and Jisung couldn't, wouldn't let that happen. He needed it now, needed you now. He wasn't just obsessed with the science and having created something that scientists have tried to create for centuries; now he was obsessed with the feeling of invisibility, obsessed with the power it gave him and obsessed with the feeling of you. He craved it all. He knew that feeling could be a side effect, as well as feeling out of control while invisible and all the reckless wrong things he did but he chose to ignore every red flag and blaring warning signs. The more he drank the elixir, the more it controlled him, possessing him with insatiable lust and desire.

That night, driven by compulsions he can't deny, Jisung slips into your room again. Once more, you're naked, lying on top of the covers and the cool air from a fan blowing over your body, makes your nipples hard. The sight takes his breath away, every inch of your body exposed to his hungry gaze again makes his mouth water. He positions himself between your legs, slipping on a condom before pushing into you. The sensation is overwhelming, and he bites down on his lip to keep from making a sound. You moan in your sleep, your hips lifting towards him, and he nearly loses it. He begins to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, watching your face for any sign of consciousness. You murmur something unintelligible but stay asleep. In and out he moves, the slow tempo is so frustrating to him but he knows he needs to be smart. You moan his name in your sleep and he flinches, startled by your voice.

"Shit..." He whispers looking down at you.

Jisung’s heart pounds in his chest, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through him. Your breathing changes, a soft whimper escaping your lips. He can't help but cum quickly and it's intense. He's trembling and panting, spilling into the condom that he hastily slipped on earlier with a grunt. He's still thrusting into you slowly, riding out his orgasm when you start to wake up.

The room is dark when your eyes slowly flutter open. A faint glow from the streetlights seeps through the blinds of your window and casts eerie shadows across your walls. There's a random sensation between your legs pulling you from the depths of sleep. At first, it feels like another dream, but it's all too real. Your eyes scan the darkness, heart pounding, but there's nothing—just the dark room and the soft rustle of the sheets.

The feeling of being filled, stretched in the most intimate way and the rhythmic movements should scare you, but the pleasure is too incredible. Your breath hitches and you find yourself moaning softly as your fingers instinctively trail down your body, finding your clit. You begin to rub, matching the invisible thrusts, your mind in a haze of pleasure and confusion.

Jisung is mesmerized by the sight and his own pleasure builds again as he watches you pleasure yourself. The combination of your fingers and his cock pushes you closer to the edge and he can feel your orgasm approaching, your muscles tightening around him.

"Fuck me harder." you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your eyes squeeze shut and you arch your back lost in the intensity of it all.

Jisung bites down hard on his lip but obliges silently, thrusting harder, deeper and the bed creaks with the force of his movements. He's getting closer to a second orgasm and he can't hold back. His speed picks up and his fingers dig into your hips as he rails your eager warmth. Your body tenses, your back arching further off the bed as you cry out, the sound of your orgasm filling the room. He watches you, unseen but not unnoticed, every moan, every tremble fueling his own arousal. The sight of you coming apart because of him, the feel of you around him—it's too much. With a hard final thrust, he cums hard, filling the condom more that it's dangerously close to overflowing.

You collapse back onto the bed, chest heaving, eyes fluttering close. The room is silent, the only sound is your labored breathing. You sit up slowly, heart racing, looking around the room, but there's nothing like always—just shadows and silence. Even the full feeling is gone.

"Was… Was that real?" you whisper, voice trembling. "I'm losing my mind."

You slide out of bed, legs unsteady and make your way to the bathroom. The light is harsh, almost jarring after the darkness. You look at yourself in the mirror, skin flushed, eyes wide. The lingering effects of your climax make you shiver.

"If that was a dream, it was the most realistic dream of my entire life." you whisper to your reflection. "But if it wasn't... does that mean that whatever is haunting this place just fucked me?" You shake your head and turn the faucet on, splashing your face with cold water.

Jisung slips away, heart pounding, mind spinning. He knows he has to stop, that what he's doing is wrong in so many ways. But the memory of being inside you, the way your body responded to him awake—it’s past addictive. He can still feel the heat of you, the way you clenched around him and he’s not sure he can give that up. He retreats to his room, the guilt eating at him even as your climax plays over and over in his mind.

He lies awake, staring at the ceiling, knowing he’s crossing a line but unsure if he can ever come back from what he's doing. The need, the desire—it’s too powerful. He’s gone too far, and he knows it. The thought of stopping, of never feeling you again—it’s a torment he’s not sure he can endure. All he can think about is the moment he's able to be inside you again.

As the days pass, the tension between you grows. Jisung’s obsession deepens. He becomes reckless, pushing the boundaries of what he can get away with. When he asks how you're doing, you gloss over your experiences of the previous nights, only telling him that you had another strange dream. You don't tell him how you're starting to enjoy them or how feeling sore and wet the next morning is almost addicting.

You think you've gone insane but you embrace the lunacy. Each night, you feel the presence, the pressure, and you give in to it. Giving the ghostly dream specter a face, you've started imagining Jisung, which only makes the experience that much more real and pleasurable. You picture his face, his body, the way he would touch you if he knew your secret desires. It’s become a habit for you now, a way to cope with the confusing feelings. It's better than things getting messy between you two. You'd have nowhere to live if something went wrong between you and Jisung. No need jeopardizing your living arrangements and friendship.

The night is still early, and you can hear the two men in the other room tinkering with their experiments as you rest in your own room. Does the feeling only happen when you're asleep? Could you trigger it somehow? Should you try talking to it?

As you lie naked in your bed, you close your eyes and imagine Jisung. You see him in your mind, wearing nothing but his little lab coat and glasses, kneeling between your legs, looking down at you. You slip a finger past your folds and then another. Your fingers work furiously, slipping in and out. “Jisung,” you moan softly.

His heart skips a beat, for a moment he thought you were aware of him in your room.

“Jisung,” you whisper again into the darkness. “Please… please touch me.”

Unbeknownst to you, Jisung stands at the foot of your bed, invisible and now trembling with need. He hears your whispered plea and it’s like a spark to a stick of dynamite. He climbs onto the bed, his eyes devouring the sight of your naked body, so inviting, so ready. You feel the bed shift and gasp, afraid to open your eyes in fear of the feeling disappearing.

He moves between your legs, his hands tracing the curve of your thighs and you shiver at the familiar, unseen touch. You moan softly, your body responding instinctively, your hips lifting in anticipation. Jisung takes his time, savoring every moment, his cock already hard and aching.

He lets the bead of precum drip onto your pussy before he slides into you slowly, watching your face contort with pleasure as he stretches you. You gasp, your hands clutching the sheets, your back arching off the bed. So real, so intense, you moan Jisung's name again, the sound driving him wild.

“Jisung… yes, please…” you plead, your voice thick with desire.

He moves within you, his thrusts deep and steady, the bed creaking with each motion. You meet him with equal fervor, your hips rocking against his, your body desperate for more. The room is filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the slick, rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh.

Jisung’s heart races, the thrill of fucking you while you moan his name, steadily pushes him to the brink. He watches your face, the way your eyes squeeze tight, the way your lips part in ecstasy and he knows he can’t stop. Not until you're cumming around him.

“Fuck, Jisung,” you cry out, your fingers digging into the mattress as your orgasm builds. “Fuck me harder.”

He does. Jisung leans into you supporting himself on one hand fucking you harder, pushing into you deeper and gripping your hip so tight it'll leave bruises but you don't notice. You meet his movements eagerly, your body arching, welcoming him in. The sound of your moans fills the room, mixing with the creak of the bed and the slap of skin against skin.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on. “Yes, Jisung, just like that.” you pant, your voice breathy and desperate.

He's driving into you with a force that makes the bed rock and hit the wall. Your tight, wet heat and your voice spurring him on. He can feel your body tensing, can tell you’re about to cum.

“Cum for me, y/n.” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Cum on my cock.”

You cry out, shocked at hearing a voice and your body is convulsing as you reach your orgasm. He pulls out just in time, spilling his seed onto your stomach, watching as it glistens in the dim light. He didn't mean for this to happen; he was only in your room as a test. Chan, back in Jisung's room, sits with a stopwatch timing just how long the test run will last. He was only meant to watch you. Jisung didn't have a condom this time but he can't seem to care about the consequences of leaving his cum behind.

You lie there, panting, a satisfied smile on your lips. “Jisung…” you murmur one last time before rolling over, drifting off to sleep.

Jisung watches you for a moment longer, a mix of pride and guilt churning inside him before he goes and rejoins Chan, who heard everything. He's questioned by his best friend as soon as he walks into the room. Jisung has no choice but to confess and with a deep breath he tells him everything. The watching, the touching… the sex. By the time he's done, Chan is staring at him in disbelief.

"Dude, that's... I don't even know what to say," Chan finally says. "You know that's messed up, right?"

"I know," Jisung says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know… but I can't stop. You don't understand. There's this compulsion, this undeniable need when I drink it. It's… it's like my deepest desires control me and I can't do anything to fight back. Please, help me."

Chan sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Of course, I'll help you. We're in this together. I'll be the one drinking it now, and I'll stay here to make sure you don't do anything you shouldn't. We need to be more careful from now on.”

Jisung nods and sighs with relief and for the next few weeks, they work tirelessly, refining the elixir. They study Chan's reactions, starting from the lowest dosage, slowly upping it little by little. Jisung tries to keep his distance from you, but it's hard. Every time he sees you, his desire flares up and he has to fight the urge to use the elixir again. He misses being inside you.

It's been weeks since you felt the ghostly presence and you miss it but you figured since it went away, then it really must've been due to stress and the days off from work truly helped. You didn't think you'd ever feel the strange sensation of being fucked by something you couldn't see again.

How incredibly wrong you are....

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hwaslayer · 3 months ago

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wildfire (cs) | twelve.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 4.8k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, lotsa talk goin around, mostly focused on namjoon lol, i'ma tell yall rn - cant trust nobody!!, everyone is just onto san x oc but for the wrong asssss reasons, joon loves his 'yes or no' questions lmao, again - i promise you there is no ill intentions behind namjoon's actions - he is trying to see both sides but he has to do what he needs to do as a department chair first & foremost!! pls understand my guy.. he had to think quick!

Today, it feels like everyone is staring at you.

Today, it feels like everyone knows, and everyone is projecting their assumptions about you and San out into the world.

"You okay?" Eunchae looks down at you as you walk and avoid contact, keeping your eyes down on your feet below or your phone. "You're awfully quiet today." Maybe word hasn't gotten to Eunchae, Jurin or Felix yet, but you know it'll eventually make its way over.

Or, maybe they have heard and they're just waiting for you.

All you know is that you wanna hide under your blankets to prevent all this overthinking, this anxiety from feeling like everyone is watching you.

"Yeah. Just tired."

"You sure? I'm all ears, you know."

"Mhm." You give her a small reassuring smile as you tug on your bag. "Thank you."

"Course."

"Have you heard from Jiung today?" You ask. You haven't really talked to Jiung since your fight at the happy hour event, and he hasn't done much to talk to you either. It's a bit awkward, but whenever you and your friends are all together, you try to keep the peace and act like nothing is wrong. You do hope he's okay, and you do hope to have your bestfriend back— but you're still upset at the fact that he jumped to conclusions about San and accused him of forcing you into this.

"No. But, he did say he probably wasn't gonna grab lunch cause he needs to take care of some things."

"I see."

"I'll see you for lunch though, right?" You nod, just as the Biology building comes into view. "Goodluck with class today."

"Thanks." You squeeze her hand before heading inside for class. Luckily, Yunho said he wouldn't be able to join class today. You weren't really in the mood to deal with him, and you're more so worried about getting through class in one piece before your mind tears you apart with all this overthinking.

"Morning Y/N!" A student already sitting in the classroom says. You're instantly comforted as you greet them back and start getting set up at the front of the classroom. But, that instantly goes down the drain when two more students walk in together— eyeing you as they pass the front table before talking amongst each other.

Fuck.

You haven't heard from San either.

The world truly felt like it was swallowing you whole.

—FLASHBACK

"Hey! I'm back." You smile at Sunwoo as you place your things down at your desk. It instantly fades when you get a chance to look around the basement office, a few of your lab members talking amongst themselves while looking in your direction. You slightly furrow your brows, wondering what exactly they were talking about or why they felt the need to be doing all of that in your face.

Was everyone in on you and San?

Is this what everything has come to?

"Hey you!" Sunwoo looks up, noticing the shift in your mood. He turns to look at everyone, shaking his head before returning his attention towards you. At this point, everyone has returned to their desks or left the room to head into the behavior or wet lab rooms. "You good?"

"Hm." You hum. "I guess."

"You guess? How was the conference?"

"Good! It was chill. Jotted down a few presentations I wanted to share with you and Belle. Is she around?" He shakes his head.

"Haven't seen her."

"Hm, okay."

"You can tell me, I'm all ears." You look at your watch.

"I gotta run behavior soon."

"So, let's grab something quick to eat before you run behavior?"

"I'm down. Kinda starving anyway."

"Yeah, let's get something in you. You won't be able to focus otherwise." He stands and stretches before nodding towards the door. "So, what was the most interesting?" You follow behind him with your wallet clutched in hand, lingering eyes watching as you leave with Sunwoo.

"Maybe she's trying to get around the lab?" You overhear one of the guys say just as you walk out of the room with Sunwoo, pausing in your steps.

"Sunwoo."

"Huh?"

"Actually, you know what. I think I can hang on until dinner. I should get started on behavior. We can talk about this another time."

"Huh? No, let's get something really quick."

"You can go ahead without me. Sorry. I just realized I'm more strapped on time than I thought I was."

"Okay? But, I'm grabbing you a snack and you better eat it." He slowly starts walking backwards down the basement hallway, glaring at you.

"Thank you." Sunwoo watches as your head falls when you walk back into the basement office. Truth be told, he's been hearing the talk go around, but he's not one to meddle— especially if it has something to do with his good friends. He'll always be on your side, regardless of what people say or think.

And he feels awful it's starting to be more obvious around you. The talk. The looks.

He wishes he could do more as your friend to help keep it away from you.

—END

Namjoon is already having a rough start to his day despite it being one of the lighter days meeting-wise. He was woken up to an urgent, sensitive email from the dean about an anonymous tip that came in overnight about San:

Namjoon— Please get to the bottom of this; we received this tip last night about San and his student. 'Hi. I'm not sure who to direct this concern to anonymously, but I believe Y/N Y/L/N and Professor Choi (San) are in an inappropriate relationship. I think she might be using it to her advantage to move forward in the program and secure her spot in his lab.' I'd like to resolve this before the end of the week. This should not be taken lightly if this is true...

And the thing is— he's just frustrated that this has been taking up this time lately. He hasn't even gotten his own time to think properly. He could only sigh in disappointment as he got ready for his day, unsure of what else it could bring him.

He should've known the storm was coming.

Iseul tugs on her jacket as she heads over to the Panama Building, the wind cooling her cheeks as she made sure to clear her hour for this particular meeting. Most students are in class right now, so the halls are quiet, still. Iseul takes the elevator up to the second floor and steps out, rushing down towards the left end of the hall.

"Namjoon." Namjoon turns over his shoulder to see Iseul. His door is wide open since he doesn't have any important meetings for awhile, and he always tries to foster a welcoming environment by letting students [and faculty] know they're always welcome to pop in if they need him.

He did not mean her though, especially today.

"Iseul."

"Can we talk?" Namjoon quickly sizes her, realizing she's already inside his office. He doesn't necessarily have a choice, but he knows this talk was gonna happen sooner or later.

He knows Iseul always has something to say.

"You're already in my office so I don't think there's necessarily a choice." He says it in a slightly playful manner just so he doesn't come off entirely rude. "What's on your mind?" Iseul shuts the door and crosses her arms before looking at him. Namjoon sits on the edge of his desk, hands loosely clasped together.

"I think you might already know." He shrugs.

"Enlighten me."

"San."

"What about him?"

"Can you let him know how dangerous it is to be dating his rotation student? He's being stupid."

"He's a grown man."

"And you're the chair."

"Thanks for the reminder." He furrows his brows. "Respectfully Iseul, this is not a discussion for you, that's why I'm not trying to indulge."

"How is this not? He's putting his reputation on the line, along with the school's. Including yours—"

"I don't see where you're involved. You don't have anything to do with him directly or the bioengineering department." He crosses his arms and stands. "I appreciate you bringing this to my attention, but this wasn't your place to do so. I'll handle it and I'll take care of it, so you don't need to worry." Namjoon glares at her a bit.

"You're being so casual about something pretty severe." Namjoon pauses as he maintains his eye contact with her. She wants him to shrink and fold, but he won't.

"I think we both know that's not the reason why you're bringing this up." Her brows are knit tightly as they sit in an awkward, tense pause. "Aren't you tired of treating San this way? Why exactly do you feel so strongly about calling him out?"

"I'm not even doing anything to him—"

"You're right, you're not. You don't respect him, you don't acknowledge him, you don't know how to be civil with him. Yet, you don't see me calling you out on your behavior towards your ex-husband who has done nothing but try and keep the peace. I only ever hear San's name come out of your mouth when you've got something bad to say about him." She glares at him. As much as Namjoon equally tries to be there for all of the faculty and to not choose sides, one thing that can surely piss him off is when people act this way unwarranted.

So no, he won't sit back if he feels the hostility. He understands the severity of the situation and he has yet to gather his thoughts and his information, but he won't take this.

"So, you're gonna let this go? Do you even actually understand the situation, Namjoon? If you won't take care of it, I'll have no choice but to escalate this to the dean."

"I do, plenty. You don't have to tell me twice or how to do my job, Iseul." He walks over to the door. "I already said I'll take care of it. On my own terms and in my own way. Not the way you want me to." He places a hand on his hip. "And what makes you think we haven't already discussed this?"

"Fine. If that girl ruins everything for the school—"

"She won't." Namjoon cuts her off just as he swings the door open. "This will be taken care of, end of story. Is there anything else I can help you with that doesn't involve San and his personal matters?"

"No." She huffs a bit before walking out of the room. At this point, Jiung is cutting the corner and almost running into Iseul as he makes his way to Namjoon's office. Jiung does a curt bow to Iseul as she storms by, heels clicking away on the linoleum floor. Her feet are heavy, Jiung feels every step even as she gets further and further away.

"Oh, Jiung. Nice to see a friendly face." Namjoon lets out a breath and gives him a toothless smile.

"Professor Kim." Jiung gives him a bow. "Are you free right now?"

"Mhm." He steps aside. "Just finished with Professor Lee. Come on in." He welcomes him inside, a bit relieved to see his face and to be welcomed by his gentle aura. It's nothing like Iseul and he's grateful; although, it does make him a little nervous to see Jiung in his office when he doesn't necessarily belong to the department.

And just like Iseul, the buzz around campus, everything that's been going down— Namjoon already feels like he knows what this is about.

The only thing he can do is confront it and take care of it just like he told Iseul he'd do. But, how? He's not sure. He's gonna have to take the time today to sit San down and poke at his brain because he's just not understanding how all of this went down and why his name and your name are being tossed around together.

Maybe he just didn't wanna believe it was true; not with San, no. He couldn't. Both as his friend and colleague.

"What can I help with? I'm a little surprised you're popping into my office since you're in the electrical engineering department."

"Ah, cause.." Jiung slowly sits in the chair and sets his bag down. "It doesn't necessarily have anything to do with me." Namjoon cocks his head to the side.

"Okay, no worries. I'm all ears."

"I-I don't really know how to say this, but I'm mainly concerned about a friend. She's in the bioengineering department."

"I think I might know what you're talking about." Namjoon says, giving Jiung a nod to proceed with his explanation.

"Yeah, it's that. I feel like Professor Choi might have forced her into it, though. It just seems really out of character for Y/N, and I don't know. I guess it just feels like he might have said something or tried to take advantage of her."

"I understand your concern for your friend, but can you let me know why you think Professor Choi is taking advantage of her or forcing her into this?"

"I just.. it just seems off, is all."

"But, what if this is also Y/N's choice?"

"It's not like her."

"I'm not saying you don't know your friend, Jiung. But, there are things people are fully capable of doing that can come off as unexpected from your point of view."

"I talked to her after the whole happy hour thing went down and I found Professor Choi kinda cornering her against the wall. She didn't look scared or anything, but she did get defensive while I was talking to her and asking her about it."

"I see." Is all Namjoon says because one, he just doesn't know. Just like he told Jiung, there are probably things he doesn't know San is capable of doing. He needs to talk to him and that's the only way he'll get the proper story. The only way to get to the bottom of it is finally confronting San about the issue at hand.

Face to face.

To be honest, he's been putting off the conversation because it's not a conversation he wants to have. It's not easy, nor will the decision at the end be something he wants to do— but he has to.

"I'm sorry, Professor Kim. I don't mean to add to your plate, but I got worried."

"Is Y/N doing okay otherwise?" He nods.

"Think so. She hasn't been saying much. We got into a fight after I confronted her so we haven't been talking."

"Sorry to hear that. I'm sure things will smooth over sooner or later." Namjoon says. "Is there anything else you'd like to let me know?"

"No, that's all. I'm sorry I don't have much details, I'm just worried about her."

"All good, I understand. I'm sure she appreciates it, too. She's lucky to have a friend like you by her side."

"Thanks, Professor Kim. For hearing me out."

"Sure. I'll take care of it and see what I can do, okay?" Jiung nods and stands, slipping his bag strap over his shoulder.

"Can we keep this between us? Please don't mention that I stopped by."

"Of course." Namjoon says softly as he stands to walk him to the dior. "Of course." He repeats.

"Thanks."

"I just can't promise you I'll have any updates cause it'll be pretty confidential moving forward."

"It's fine. I get it." Jiung stops right before he steps out the door. "Thank you again."

"No problem. You know how to reach me if you have any other concerns." Jiung nods before slipping through the door and taking his exit. Namjoon exhales heavily before pulling out his phone to text the person he needs—

namjoon: can we talk in my office? i'd rather much do this today, not later.

namjoon: i'm free for the next hour and half.

san: yeah. i'll be there in 15 minutes.

namjoon: thanks.

He sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to gather his thoughts. It's the hardest thing to approach this as a colleague rather than a friend because as a friend, Namjoon would let this go. He knows San deserves to be happy, and it sounds like he is. That's all he's ever wanted for him especially after all the hurt and pain he had gone through with Iseul and Yunho. But as a colleague, his 'higher-up' even, it's wrong. San's happiness is wrong because it's with his student. A student who is a grown adult who can make decisions for themselves. It's wrong.

So, what does he do?

He feels a migraine coming on, so he tries to busy himself with some emails, making sure deadlines and reports have been submitted. Luckily, the dean is giving him some time and isn't pressing him for answers right this second even though he knows it's on his mind. If he was, Namjoon wasn't sure what he'd say.

He's not sure how he'll get San out of this.

"Yo." San appears in his office, softly shutting the door behind him.

"Take a seat." San immediately picks up on the vibe in the room and how stressed Namjoon looks. He knows they still need to talk about things, but something tells San it's become much deeper than that and he's not prepared for it whatsoever. No matter how hard he tried to prepare, there's no proper way to be fully prepared.

"You okay?"

"Honestly, I don't know." He sits back a bit, hands clasped on the surface of the table. "But, I'm just gonna get right to it because I think this is way overdue."

"Okay." San manages to respond softly.

"We need to talk about what happened at the happy hour event the other day, plus that whole thing with Iseul and Yunho." Namjoon pauses before he cuts to the chase. "San, why do I keep getting wind of you being in a relationship with your rotation student?" Silence. "Y/N, to be exact." He looks at him. "Is that what the whole happy hour thing was about? Is that what you three were discussing in the conference room yesterday?" He sighs. "I was try to push this off a little longer until I could figure out how to get you out of this, but word keeps going around and it definitely didn't help that you three had a screaming match about it." San sighs heavily as he sinks into the chair.

"Well, as far as I know, I wasn't planning on discussing my personal matters with Yunho and Iseul. They trapped me into the fucking—"

"San." Namjoon stops him. "Is it a yes or no?" Pause. San just looks at Namjoon and it's enough for him to put the final piece together. Everything had been about you from the get-go, but San still won't say it. He's doing everything to protect you, but this might be it; there's no way he can lie to Namjoon about this, or hide this from him any longer.

It's far too late for that.

"San." He repeats. "This is not the time to try and lie to me. I had two people talk to me about it and an anonymous tip came in that was sent my way."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter." Namjoon furrows his brows and lets out a heavy exhale. "I need the truth from you. Now." The exasperated sigh that leaves San's lips is full of emotions; fear, anxiety, protectiveness, even.

"I'm sorry." Is all San can respond with. It comes out low, barely above a whisper.

"Why?" Namjoon cocks his head to the side, hands on his hips. "Why? I just wanna know why!" His voice is harsh, but he keeps his tone low. "A student, your student? It's damn near everywhere, you know that, right? I don't know how I'm gonna fix this for you, but you know they'll take action against her and probably you—"

"Namjoon, please." San pleads. "Please don't do this to her. Don't take her out of the program. Do whatever you need to me, but don't take it out on her."

"San." Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose before letting out an exasperated sigh. "You should've known better." He looks at him, but San can't even respond. All he can do is shrug and shake his head because he did know better, he just didn't wanna do better and chose to be selfish. "I need to figure this out before end of the day and report back to the dean. I can't force you to act a certain way or do things you don't wanna do. But, for this reason in particular, I'm gonna need you two to stop. You're not interacting with her on campus, you're not going to be involved in anything having to do with her moving forward." Namjoon shakes his head. "You both couldn't wait until graduation or something? I know it's years ahead but you know how this looks—"

"I— no. Things just happened. That's really the only way I can explain it. I'm sorry. The hell am I supposed to do? I can't help but feel how I feel for her." Namjoon sighs heavily, feeling torn between wanting his friend to be happy, but concerned and disappointed for his colleague.

"That isn't gonna fly. You knew better than to get involved with a student in your lab. You can't just risk everything you've built for yourself, San. You have no idea how much trouble you could get into if the school finds out just exactly how deep your relationship has gotten with her— let alone, your own rotation student!" His tone slight rises, but it falls when he sees San visibly shrink and lose eye contact with him. He paces around for a bit, hands still on his hips as he tries to figure out a way to brush this over before it gets way too messy and complicated. "I get you. I do. You deserve to be happy, and who the hell am I to police your actions? But, I can't have you do this to yourself or her. The both of you are grown so I expected you to do better."

"So, what's gonna happen?"

"Well, I'll need to let them know this isn't true and that you two aren't in a relationship. I'll have to remove her from your lab and I'll need to figure out where I can place her or what I can do for her."

"They won't kick her out, right?"

"Honestly, I can't even be sure. I don't think so, but you two will definitely not be allowed to be near or around each other." Namjoon looks at him. "Are you not even worried about yourself?"

"No, I'm not."

"She's worth it to you?"

"More than anything." San says softly. "Look, it's cliché but you really don't understand." Namjoon shrugs.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. I don't wanna take your happiness away, San. Believe me. That's the last thing I wanna do and this is already difficult as is. But, it just had to be her?"

"It did, yeah. And there's nothing I regret about it." Another small silence falls between them before Joon speaks up again.

"Do you get where people are taking this?"

"No, quite frankly, I don't."

"Favoritism, like you two are taking advantage of each other for benefits. It's becoming so noticeable that people are talking."

"You and I both know how great of a student she is. If she's received opportunities, it's because she earned them herself, not because of me."

"That's not how it looks. And perception matters. You know this. Relationships like this are literally a ticking time bomb for your career, the bioengineering department." He's gonna use the excuse that Iseul pulled because for him, as department chair, as someone who needs to keep the glue together for this department, it's true.

"I don't even see how we're doing anything wrong when we're both adults. She and I both know what this is—"

"That doesn't matter in this situation. There's a power dynamic here you can't ignore. Even if this is real, you hold her future in your hands. Do you understand?" Joon exhales, brows tightly knit together. "What about her fate in this whole situation? Do you care about that?"

"Of course I do. I care about her more than anything." San responds almost exasperatedly.

"Do you love her?"

"If I say yes?"

"Then, tell me. If you had to choose between your relationship or keeping her here, then what?" San sighs and runs his hand down his face. "Think about it. You deserve to be happy, but that girl also deserves a chance to keep going."

"Why can't we just keep it on the low, why do I have to choose? W-we can be more careful—"

"San, don't be stupid. I'm sure 'being careful' is how this all started, right?" Silence. "You know people are going to find out one way or another. It won't matter how real this is to you, to the both of you. She'll be branded as the professor's pet. Is that what you want for her? And you'll lose everything—your job, your reputation, ability to work at other institutions. Plus, the dean is still thinking about your program with Jongho and the real estate. This is going to trickle onto Jongho, too."

"No, of course not. And I don't want Jongho to take a fall because of me. But.." San sighs, his heart breaking the more this conversation goes on. He wasn't prepared to be here today, no. And he wasn't prepared for his mind to start thinking otherwise about your relationship, you. He was always sure of you, but now he's starting to feel like he's been too selfish;

Neglected you and your future plans. Your dreams, your goals.

"You're asking me to break this off. To break off my relationship with someone I truly care about and someone that genuinely makes me happy. Something I haven't felt in a long time."

"I'm sorry, San. I already told you how difficult this is, and it's not my intention to take your happiness away. I just need to protect you two from everyone, especially the dean. Please understand me and hear me. I'm asking you to protect her this way. If anything happens, it'll be the both of you going down and you know she doesn't deserve that either. "

"And If I don't do this?" San asks just to put the question out there.

"Then, can you call it love? Or is it just you being selfish?" San leans onto his knees, head falling into his hands. "I'm trying to come from a good place. Help me help you." He feels a headache coming on, thoughts running at a thousand miles per hour. He hates the thought of losing you; it makes him sick to his stomach. But, he can't even lie and say there isn't a piece of truth behind Namjoon's words.

Can San really say he loves you if he isn't doing the right thing for you? Is he being too selfish, assuming he could keep this on the low? Assuming he could be 'more' careful with you?

Is he selfish for wanting you by his side no matter what? Is he selfish for saying fuck it?

Is he selfish?

The last thing he wants to do is ruin your career, ruin you. Even if this will hurt like hell, he understands where Namjoon is coming from and knows he needs to put you first.

He's so conflicted. He has no idea what to do or how to move forward. Because as much as he knows he needs to do this for you and the sake of Namjoon, he doesn't want to.

He is scared.

"I need to head back to my office." San sighs and stands, but Namjoon follows closely.

"I don't have much time. I need to let them know that something is gonna be done and I need to prove it to them. You do hear me, right?"

"I do. I just.. give me a little bit of time to think, Joon. Please." Namjoon just nods, meeting San's expression. He feels bad, he really does. And as his friend, this isn't something he wants to do— but he has to. He could easily tell San to keep this on the low, to keep this a secret until things blow over but at some point, he doesn't trust himself to continue along with the story had anyone asked about it out of the blue.

Namjoon watches as San sadly walks off back to his office, eyes trained on the phone in his hand. San sees your texts, and usually, that'll be enough to put a smile on his face. He'll text back right away so you know he's been thinking about you; but today, he's thinking about you in a different light and he's not sure how to stomach it.

When he gets back to his office, he sees a few people from the lab lingering around— even you. You meet his eyes and his eyes meet yours, but he doesn't give you a smile.

His eyes don't glow like they used to.

His cheeks aren't threatening to glow that cute, rosy tint they do when you're around.

He just steps in without doing anything to acknowledge your presence and that already feels way off.

you: 😞 you didn't even look my way when you walked back into the office and i haven't heard from you all day.

you: i hate how all my papers and presentations are due this week. plus ppl have been weird, idk. i just wanna cuddle 😭

san: i'm sorry. it's just been a day.

you: that's never stopped you before... ☹️ what's wrong, san?

san: we should talk, baby.

—read 12.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 9 months ago

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Chapter 5: We Got Us An IKEA Virgin

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Soft Ben/Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), derogatory comments, sexism, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: This one is incredibly fluffy and self-indulgent, let's be honest, all of my fics are and I'm not sorry. This chapter contains an absolutely cutesy scenario that I just had to write, so if you don't like anything like that then probably shouldn't read it :) If you love that kind of thing then ENJOY!

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“What the fuck is this place?” Ben asks in disbelief as he looks around the spacious lobby of the Brooklyn IKEA.

The smell of cinnamon buns, chocolate chip cookies, coffee, and Swedish meatballs wafts over the crowded lobby towards where the two of you stand just inside the welcoming large blue and yellow front doors. Light streams through the front windows tickling against your skin and spreading over the front tables where various displays of houseplants bask in the late afternoon sun. They stretch their leaves towards the sunlight, unfurling towards the light each in various shades of green, sitting in happy colored pots waiting to be picked up by the people who weave through the front lobby.

There were less here than at the plant shop of course, but there were still enough plants for you to feel the prickle of your powers beneath your skin and feel the plants begin to tilt towards you as they sense you enter the building.

“It’s IKEA. You’ve never been to IKEA before?” You say taking a step towards the display of snake plants, livening up a few that look like they could use a little love, feeling the gentle bend of their firm leaves straighten beneath your touch.

“I don’t know if you remember this or not Petals, but I haven’t exactly been out and about in forty years. And I have no idea why you’ve been here before.”

“Well I’ve never been to this exact location before, but there was one an hour away from where Annie and I grew up. There wasn’t much to do where we lived so we drove to that one. But that’s beside the point. IKEA was created in the 50’s which means you had thirty years to experience all of this.” You glance up at him mildly confused.

He could have at least heard of IKEA in the thirty years he had before he got taken to Russia.

“So? I’ve never been shopping for furniture. I just made Legend do that shit for me. I was saving the world. Didn’t have time to go picking out couches like a fucking pansy.” Ben frowns down at you.

“Really? You didn’t care what was in your apartment? You didn't want to test out a couch before you bought it?” You think about your vintage bedside table and carved wooden headboard that you found when thrifting with Annie one weekend. "I mean you had to look at it everyday."

Ben shrugs. “Wasn’t there too much. Really just needed the bed.“

"So you're telling me you're an IKEA virgin?" You gasp dramatically.

Ben quirks the end of his lips mildly amused. "Will you be gentle with me if I say yes?"

"I'll consider it." You shrug. "But then again it was you that said you liked it a little rough and that there was nothing gentle about you. So, I think you're just gonna have to put on your big boy pants and follow my lead."

"Baby I can't wait to show you just how big I-"

You roll your eyes and turn back to the plants that need your attention, interrupting the end of his sentence. "I really hope that whoever lives in your old apartment burned down the whole building and then rebuilt. Seems like the only way to purge what happened there in the bed you're so proud of.” You shudder trying hard not to think about what happened in Ben’s old apartment and say a prayer that the same thing won’t happen in yours.

Not in front of my plants, they're young and impressionable for fucks sake.

It had been three days since Ben and you had watched a movie on your couch and exactly two days after he’d moved all his stuff in from Butcher’s apartment. Stuff being a relative term because it was really just a large garbage bag filled with his clothes.

It made you feel even worse for him when he showed up at your front door with that, but you had cleaned out the linen closet and removed a few of the shelves inside it for Ben to use. It was a better alternative to him using your bedroom closet. The last thing you wanted was for him to come into your room at inopportune times.

The team had different reactions to finding out the two of you were living together. Butcher had mocked you endlessly, Frenchie and Kimiko had bought you a ridiculously skimpy, cheap, and tight set of lacy lingerie that looked more like dental floss than anything else, MM told you that you were making a mistake, Hughie was stunned, and Annie was annoying you without end.

Annie had begun to send you pictures of what Ben and your children would look like and you had retaliated by telling Hughie about the Fourth of July disaster that happened when you and Annie were sixteen. When Annie was in the cherry pie eating contest after deciding to partake in cheaply made moonshine her boyfriend, Dominic, had stolen from his dad and then vomited red froth all over her boyfriend when he tried to kiss her and made him throw up all over her.

You still couldn’t look at a cherry pie without gagging.

Unfortunately that just made the photos get more and more unhinged. The last one was a picture of a body builder standing in a green house with a baby’s face photoshopped on it.

You suspected that Hughie had something to do with that one. And as revenge, you sent Annie a picture of a baby with a light bulb photoshopped where its head should be.

But while sitting on your couch watching that ridiculous movie with Ben, you realized that if Ben was really going to move in you needed to get a bigger one, one that he could at least stretch out on without his legs hanging over the end and one that he wouldn't have to worry about falling off of if he moved more than a centimeter.

You and Ben had spent the morning driving around in Butcher’s car going from auto shop to auto shop trying to see if anyone knew anything about the supe, or had seen anything weird happen the nights the cars were jacked. None of the workers saw anything or had seemed suspicious of Ben and you asking questions. The owner of the last auto shop had said that one week ago someone had broken in and stolen some equipment, but the auto shop didn’t have any security cameras. Which meant you were back to square one.

You dreaded the call to Butcher, but when you walked out of the last auto shop you noticed tables and chairs being unloaded from a large truck and when you went over to ask what was going on, you found out that one of the representatives who was running for city comp troller in the next election was throwing a gala on Saturday night.

That meant that the streets would be lined with expensive cars, and you knew that was something the supe wouldn’t be able to pass up. Expensive cars in his neighborhood just waiting to be stripped. So now Butcher was making a plan for Saturday night and you were stuck with Ben.

But lately it hadn't felt like you were stuck with him. It felt different.

You were surprised that it had been three days and Ben and you hadn’t killed each other, in fact it was almost kind of nice. Yes he still annoyed the shit out of you and made comments about sleeping with him, but you were getting used to him being there when you got home. Not to mention he actually fixed a leak underneath the kitchen sink that you’d told the super about time and time again for the past four months with no reply.

You didn’t know that Ben knew how to do that kind of stuff. Figured that he never got his hands dirty, but then you’d seen him on his back under the sink with a newly purchased toolbox on the ground next to him. When you'd tried to tell him that you could call someone to do that, he'd waved you off and said that it was a man's job to fix things around the house. But that hadn't stopped you from sitting on the ground next to him and ask him exactly what he was doing so you knew how.

When you’d asked him why he needed to fix it so urgently, Ben said that the dripping was keeping him up at night and the duct tape that you’d put there was about as useful as a broken condom.

Of course it hadn't all been good.

The closest you’d come to killing him was when he came home one night ago and Mike was in the hallway with you, desperately trying to find out how serious your and Ben’s relationship was. Ben had come up behind you, pulled you into him with a strong hand on your waist, while his other arm wrapped gently under your neck. and had begun to kiss up and down the column of your throat while whispering things loudly that even made Mike's cheeks flush a dark crimson. You wanted to choke Ben out while you desperately tried to ignore how good it felt to be in his arms, how his beard scratched pleasantly against your skin, and how nice and warm he was. Mike had gotten the message and retreated to his apartment and to retaliate you had a key made for Ben that was bright pink and had a picture of hello kitty on it.

But you hadn't been angry enough to abandon Ben this morning when he left the apartment to take out the trash and immediately got cornered by Mike's mother on the wall beside the elevator. You opened the front door of the apartment and saw him pinned to the wall with Mike's mother's hand on Ben's chest, tracing over his muscles while saying that he reminded her of her ex-husband who seemed to keep her up all night long. When his eyes met yours, it was the closest you'd ever seen to genuine fear, and it made you laugh, because you'd seen him face down supes without batting an eye, but he was afraid of a less than five foot tall woman in a bright yellow and green mumu. An evil part of yourself wanted to leave him there as payback, to shut the door and forget about him, but you figured you owed him for fixing your sink so you helped him get away.

"I haven't checked that, but if anything they should have immortalized that apartment for posterity." Ben grins widely, his eyes awash with memories of a past long gone. "Do you have any idea what I did to-"

"Ah- no-" You put your fingers in your ears. "La la la la la."

Ben pulls out one of your fingers. "You're right, I don't need to tell you. Why don't we go back to our apartment and I can show you?" He steps closer to you, his grin dipping into a roughish smirk that makes his eyes glint with mischief.

"Oh hush." You place one hand on his chest, ignoring how good it feels under his hands and push him back. "We're here to get a couch."

"Fine. But I've got the perfect way to christen it when we get back." Ben winks.

You stare blankly at him, feigning confusion. "I didn't know you wanted to learn how to crochet that bad, but I've got enough yarn to show you when we get back."

"What?"

"I mean that is what I usually do on the couch. But don't worry, it's a lot easier than it looks." You shrug before grabbing a snake plant in a brightly colored orange pot and place it in the top part of the cart. You didn't have one at the apartment and it was supposed to make the air cleaner. Given how much weed Ben smoked, you figured the two of you could use it.

Or maybe a whole damn field of it.

You had already made the jasmine on the wall behind the t.v multiply exponentially to make up for the smell, but you didn't mind it. You'd also noticed that Ben seemed to be slowing down how much he was smoking. Whenever you went to Butcher's apartment in the past he always had a blunt, but in the past three days you'd only seen him with one a few times. You wondered why that was. Ben had told you before that it helped him with his PTSD, but you wondered what could have changed.

“You’re getting another plant?”

“Never ask me that question Gramps, not unless you want to get an ass-full of cactus.” You push the cart towards the food area intent on getting a coffee. This morning the two of you had been in a hurry and you hadn't been able to have one.

“Hello! How are you today?” The person behind the counter says with a wide smile. She was pretty, with thick light brown hair pushed back by a floral scarf and a large pair of hoop earrings.

See she took her happy pills. Now if only Ben would.

“I’m great how are you?” You smile back.

“I’m doing fantastic!” She beams. “What can I get you today?”

“Can I get a hazelnut coffee with cream and sugar please?”

“Okay." Her eyes flick back to where Ben is glowering behind you. "Does your boyfriend want anything?”

“Oh he’s not my-“ You begin to wave a hand.

“Can I get a black coffee?” Ben interrupts not bothering to correct her.

“Of course. Y’all are so cute.” She smiles typing something into her register. “You’ve got that height difference and everything.”

“No actually we’re not tog-“ You begin to say again, but Ben weaves his arm around your waist.

“Thank you.” Ben gives her a charming smile as he pulls your right hip back into his left. “We just moved in together. It’s a really big step, but I just couldn’t stay away from my girl.”

“Congratulations!” Her eyes shift to the plant in the basket. “Aww and you guys are getting a plant. How wonderful!”

“Yeah it’s our love plant.” Your smile turns more into a snarl as you reach up and pinch Ben’s cheeks painfully between your fingers hoping that it hurts. “I’m trying to see if Benny-Wenny here can keep it alive. Because if he doesn’t then our love will die.” You say doing your best Kate Hudson impression. When you say die you emphasize the word by squeezing his cheeks again, but Ben only smiles around it, his eyes gleaming.

“Oh um- okay.” The girls smile drops just a watt sensing the tension between the two of you. “Well your total is 10.78.”

You reach for your phone preparing to use the Apple Pay function, but Ben hands the girl a twenty before you can.

“Aww and he pays too.” The girl coos looking like she’s going to swoon. “What a gentleman.”

Honey he’s about as far from a gentleman as you can imagine.

“I’m certainly going to make him.” You reply, elbowing him hard in the stomach. “Given what I have to go through.” You mutter that last part, earning a chuckle from Ben.

When you finally get your coffee you walk off, following the arrows on the ground to where the sleeper couches should be while sipping on your coffee with Ben walking next to you.

A comfortable silence builds between the two of you as you walk through the aisles, watching couples hold hands and point at dining room tables, children beg their parents for bunk beds, and teenagers play hide and seek.

One brushes past you making some of your coffee slosh over the rim of the cup onto your shirt, and continues to run, but he doesn't get far. Ben grabs the back of his shirt and hauls him back.

"Apologize." Ben growls narrowing his eyes at the kid who looks like he might cry.

"Ben it's okay-"

"I'm sorry." The boy says his eyes wide.

Ben drops him, satisfied with his answer, and the boy scampers off to his friends who all look back at Ben like he's crazy.

"You didn't have to do that." You say, wiping your finger at the stain on your white and black striped t-shirt. "He's just a kid."

"He should have apologized." Ben grunts handing you the napkin that's wrapped around his coffee.

"Thanks." You dab at the spot, but you know it won't do much use.

"The younger generation these days seems short on respect."

You snort out a laugh, balling the napkin up and toss it in a trashcan nearby. "Statements like that really age you Gramps."

"So does that fucking nickname." He sighs.

"You never told me your real name when we first met and I told you that I was going to come up with a fun nickname to call you. You can only blame yourself." You take the last sip of coffee, stepping off the path to examine a bright red couch that looks long enough for Ben to sleep on.

"What's wrong?" Ben asks.

"Huh?" You look up at him.

"You're making the face you always do when something is wrong."

You blink for a minute. Is he talking about what Annie calls my 'suffer in silence face?' How the hell does he know about that?

"I don't like the color." You say hesitantly.

"I don't either." Ben takes your empty coffee cup and throws it away with his. "What about that one?" He points at a soft black couch on the other side. It has a function that allows apart of the cushions to extend into a bed, easy to move in and out. You sit down.

"It's sort of comfy."

Ben sits down directly beside you, even though there's enough room for him to sit on the other side. "It's okay."

"What? Your butt isn't comfortable?" You tease him, elbowing him playfully.

Ben rolls his eyes at you. "Can't you take anything seriously?"

"What's the fun in that Gramps?" You sit back against the cushions. "But you're right. My butt is not pleased."

"What a shame. I'd hate for something so delicious be disappointed." Ben replies turning to look at you.

You ignore his comment. "Come on, let's go check that one."

As you go deeper and deeper into the bowels of IKEA, it begins to get colder and colder. Goosebumps pebble over your arms as you gaze down at the charcoal colored couch. You rub your hands up and down them to warm them up.

Why is it so damn cold in here? It’s not that hot outside!

More goosebumps erupt over your skin as you walk around the couch thinking that movement will help with the chill. And just as you come back around to the front of the couch, Ben’s leather jacket drapes over your shoulders.

It’s too big for you, but you almost moan in relief as you sink into the warmth it holds. It was still warmed from Ben's body, and smelled exactly like his cologne. Something spicy and masculine that made you feel like you’d bought one of those cinnamon brooms sold around Christmastime.

You look up at him in surprise. “What about you?”

“I run hot.” He shrugs. “Plus I don't want you to turn into a popsicle.”

“Thank you.” You say too cold to argue as you put your arms through the sleeves that hang several inches past your hands.

Wow that's actually kind of sweet.

“Mhmm.” He grunts looking at the couch in front of you. “Kinda a shame though.”

“Huh?”

Ben leans back to look behind you with a mournful sigh. “It covers up your gorgeous ass.”

And he’s back.

“Why don’t you just-“

“Y/n!” You hear a familiar voice call cutting off your next words, and you turn towards it.

Jake is wheeling a cart towards the two of you, a collection of ceramic pots in his basket, waving his hand enthusiastically. “What are you doing here?” He’s smiling just as brightly at you as always, his hair swept back over his head, blue eyes filled with mirth.

“Be nice.” You mutter under your breath to Ben, who huffs in response. “Hey Jake. Ben and I were just looking at couches.”

“Couches?” Jake takes in your close proximity and the fact that you’re wearing Ben’s jacket. “Why?”

“Oh well-“

“For our apartment.” Ben says tightly, emphasizing the word 'our.' He’s frowning at Jake, eyes narrowed.

Why does he have such a problem with him?

“You guys are moving in together?” Jake looks confused, and if he clocks Ben’s rude attitude he doesn’t show it. “I thought you said that you just work together?”

“Why do you care plant boy?” Ben snaps.

“Ben!” You hiss, elbowing him hard. “I’m sorry Jake, you’ll have to excuse Gramps, he’s not used to talking to civilized people.” You turn to glare at Ben. “Why don’t you go look at that couch over there?”

“I’m comfortable here, thanks Petals.”

You continue to glare at him while Jake stands there awkwardly not sure what to say.

“Fucking fine.” Ben mutters under his breath and stomps off in the direction of a bright yellow couch that looks like it could sleep five people.

You turn back to Jake with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry-“

“It’s okay.” Jake smiles. “My sister is dating someone just like him. I’m used to it.”

I doubt she’s dating a horny 104 year old that’s been on ice for forty years and tortured in a Russian lab.

“What are you doing here?” You look down at his cart noting the ceramic planters.

"They're having a sale, thought we could use some new ones for display in the shop." Jake shrugs. "I see that you found a plant you like."

"Well you can never have too many." You smile.

"I completely agree." Jake glances over to where Ben is supposed to be trying out a brilliant yellow couch, and he is sitting on it, but he's glaring at Jake. "Um, well I guess I'll see you at work on Monday?"

"Yep I'll be there."

"Oh actually-" Jake pauses to clear his throat. "There's a plant show this weekend at the farmer's market by my apartment on Saturday morning. Did you want to come with me? It might be fun."

"Oh-um- I'm not sure. Butcher might have something to do for me to do on Saturday. And I'm sure you're plenty capable of picking out inventory." You smile at that last part. It was true, Jake always did a wonderful job of picking out plants for the shop. He'd never asked you to go with him before.

"Actually-" Jake rubs the back of his neck, cheeks flushed. "I-uh- didn't mean for inv-"

"I don't like this one Petals." Ben shouts from the other side of the room interrupting what Jake was going to say.

You turn to stare at him. He's still sitting on the brilliant yellow couch, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Jake.

He's such a toddler, can't sit still for two seconds.

You sigh and twist back to Jake. "I'm sorry he's a literal child. What were you saying?"

"I-" Jake clears his throat, smiling tightly. His eyes flick back to Ben's cold stare, before he looks back at you. "Nevermind. I'll see you at work on Monday okay?"

"Yeah okay." You hold up your hand in a wave as he turns and leaves, walking quickly away down the concrete path towards the front doors.

You stomp over to the couch where Ben is still glowering at Jake.

"I like the gray one better." Ben stands and points at the one you two had originally been standing at when Jake walked up.

"I can't believe you just did that. Why did you have to be so mean? He was just being nice, making conversation." You huff, planting your hands on your hips. "You're from the fucking '20s aren't you supposed to understand basic human decency instead of acting like a modern day fuck-boy?"

"I don't understand what that means. And I don't like him."

"Why? What has he done to make you hate him? You've barely said two words to him since you met four days ago."

"I just don't." Ben frowns at Jake's retreating figure, who does seem to be gaining some serious speed.

You couldn't blame him, Ben could look downright murderous when he wanted to. But you didn't understand why he hated Jake so much, why he couldn't stand to be around him. Jake was polite and kind, yes, two things opposite of Ben, but Jake hadn't done anything to make Ben hate him. You'd been present at both of their interactions and Jake hadn't said anything mean let alone frowned at Ben.

"He's my boss. And if we're going to be seen in public together sometimes you're going to have to try to make an effort to be nicer to him."

"Why?"

"Because I need that job Gramps! Butcher's pay sucks, and I don't have a bank account that has been gaining interest for eighty years, not to mention any money from being a supe or staring in ridiculous films. And if he fires me because of you I will send a Terminator into the past to kill your child self!" You poke him in the chest angrily, before you walk back over to the gray couch to lift the price tag up.

You try not to wince. It was a little more than what you had been prepared for, but Ben actually liked this one and he would be the one using it the most. It felt selfish to deprive him of that, especially since he'd been sleeping in a tank for the past forty years.

Maybe we should just buy him a bed for the living room and make that his room. It would be cheaper and I wouldn't have to give up name brand things. Your cheeks flush for a moment, realizing if you did that, you’d have to sit on Ben’s bed to watch tv. Oh yeah he’d love that. He would make so many jokes about how he finally got me into bed with him. Why did I agree to let him live with me again?

Ben looks at the price over your shoulder, noticing your reaction. "Don't worry about it."

"What?" You glance up at him surprised.

"I'll pay for it." Ben didn't look like he was kidding, his green eyes were focused on you, an unreadable emotion hidden behind them that you'd seen only a few times before. It was the same one that he'd had just before you left Butcher's apartment four days ago, the one Ben had when you said you were going to walk home alone, and the one that was so different than the angry or aroused one he had when he looked at you.

"No." You shake your head. "Ben that's crazy, I'm going to pay for some of it. I sit on that couch too-"

"Sorry Petals. I'm not going to let you pay for my bed." Ben smirks, and strokes his finger down your cheek. "But I'd love to have you join me in it."

You glare at him, leaning back so his hand falls from your face. "Ben I'm serious. I don't want you to have to pay for the whole thing."

"And I don't want you to pay for it."

"So you're saying that we're at a stalemate unless one of us is willing to commit a felony?"

"Why are you so against me paying for this? Are you going to yell at me again about the wonders of modern day feminism? Let me know now so I can rip my ears off in preparation."

"First of all, the outside of the ear is actually purely for show and made of cartiledge which means for you to avoid listening to me you would have to rip out the inside of your ears." You drop the finger you were holding up. "And second of all, it feels wrong because I use the couch when I crochet or when Annie and I drink wine, eat greasy pizza, and watch monster movies-"

"You guys get drunk and watch monster movies? Aren't women supposed to like sappy shit like Jane Austen?"

"I mean I love Mr. Darcy as much as anyone, but I'm not ashamed to admit my comfort movie is Jurassic Park. Something about them running around for their lives makes me feel better about mine."

Especially now that I have to deal with you all day long.

Ben blinks at you like he can't figure you out. Personally you were used to people looking at you that way.Weirdness was a privilege and you owned it, wore it like an eccentric billionaire's wife in a mink coat in the middle of summer.

"Petals." Ben says quietly, the look in his eyes shifts to something softer, something that you'd never seen before. Even the way he says the nickname is different, not the harsh way he says it or the teasing way, it's almost gentle. "I don't want you to worry about this. It's alright. I'm the one that barged in and made you let me live there. So I'm going to pay for it."

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to feel guilty. "Are you sure you're even okay with a sleeper couch? We could just get you a mattress."

"Nah. This one is comfortable." He nods his head in the direction of the gray couch.

"So what you're saying is," You smile as wide as you can poking him. "Your butt was comfy on that couch!"

Ben rolls his eyes. "Come on let's go, before Jake comes back and tries to ask you out again."

"He was not trying to ask me out, he was just being friendly." You roll your eyes at him as you take a picture of the tag, trying not to let Ben get to you.

"I hate to break this to you Petals, but that's exactly what he was doing." He replies. "I told you that he wanted to fuck you." Ben almost sing-songs.

"No he wasn't." You stop for a minute, back straightening. "Wait. Is that why you interrupted him?" You turn around so that you're looking at Ben again. "Because you thought he was asking me out?"

Wait a minute, was he trying to get Jake to leave so he wouldn't ask me out. Is that why Ben hates him so much? Because he's jealous? There's no way-

"No." Ben says it immediately, jaw tightening.

"Holy Shit. You're jealous!" You cackle.

"No I'm not."

“Ben why are you jealous? We aren’t together. We aren’t having sex-“

“We could be! And I'm not jealous of that fucking dandy."

“I don’t understand why you’re so attached to the idea of us sleeping together.“

“And I don’t understand why you're pretending to be so against it.”

"I'm not pretending and I'm not going to get into this argument with you again." You say exaggerating your frown.

"Deny it all you want Petals, but I know your tell." His eyes flick to the scrunch between your eyebrows. "So grab your stupid plant and let's go." He turns and moves to follow the arrows on the ground out towards the exit.

"Ben I'm serious, why are you jealous?" You jog to catch up with him, the cart rolling smoothly against the concrete floors.

"I'm not and I'm done talking about this with you!"

"Uh-huh. Sure." You begin to prance behind the cart. "You're jealous! You loooovvveee meee." You tease him.

Ben whirls around so fast, bending down towards you so close you can feel his breath against your lips, the teasing mood in your veins quickly shifting to something else. You're suddenly thankful that you picked a plant that didn't have the possibility of producing flowers, because they would be in full bloom. The close proximity of Ben to you made it impossible to think, not when you were inhaling his hypnotic scent with every breath, and not when his lips were only inches from yours.

Ben's mouth pulls up in a smirk as his emerald gaze locks with yours. He's so close that you can see the soft cinnamon colored freckles flecked across his cheeks and see the circle of gold in his eyes that seems to make your knees weak.

"Love doesn't have anything to do with it, doesn't have anything to do with what I want to do to you." He breathes, his voice dropping into the deep rumble that makes everything else vanish away. "And I'm not jealous of him doll. Anything that he can do to you, I can do better, longer, and harder. You just say the word, and you won't even remember him, let alone remember your own name."

You can't find the words to reply, the memory of Ben kissing you is everywhere, crackling along your skin, thrumming in your veins, and buried in your bones.

"Now come on. I want to look at bookshelves." Ben pulls back with a wide smirk, hearing your heart beat begin to kick up.

"Wait what?" Your voice sounds small when you find it.

"Your stack of books is annoying me."

"What do you mean? You mean the stack of books in my bedroom that you're never supposed to set foot in is annoying you?"

"Mhmm."

"I am perfectly capable of buying my own bookshelf thank you."

"Then why haven't you?"

"Because I had more important things to do-"

Like paying for electricity and buying cat food.

"Uh-huh. Well I don't have anything to do because all my drinking buddies died forty fucking years ago."

"You're not serious. You're not going to buy me a bookshelf." You say in shock.

Why in the fuck does he care about that? It's my room, he doesn't have to do that.

"Yes I am. That stack of books is ridiculous and pointless."

"That could be the name of my autobiography." You roll your eyes. It was a joke that Annie and you often used when you hung out together. Because what was the point of life without a little bit of self-deprecating humor?

Ben stops walking and turns around to look at you. "You might be ridiculous Petals, but you're not pointless. Don't you ever say anything like that around me ever again." He looks almost angry at the thought.

You inhale a sharp breath surprised. "Ben I wasn't being serious it's just a joke. Annie and I-"

"I don't care." He's still frowning at you. "I don't want you to make that kind of joke around me okay?"

You can't respond to that, only nod.

I have no idea what is going on.

All day Ben had been surprising you, hell, when he moved in a few days ago he surprised you. He was acting like he actually gave a shit, not just that he wanted to sleep with you, but that he genuinely wanted to be apart of your life, almost like a friend. You knew that maybe it was ridiculous to think that, but something deep down made you think it was true. That Ben really was making an effort to be better around you. But you had no idea why.

"So I'm going to buy a bookshelf no matter what you say, and you can either tell me which one to get or I'm gonna get you the ugliest son of a bitch here." Ben says smiling. "What will it be?"

You stand there looking at him, still mildly surprised, until you point at a dark brown wooden bookshelf with glass doors.

"Good. Now let's get the fuck out of here, before I grow a pussy."

A/N: Life changing trip to IKEA, because why not? Again more fluff and domestic Ben, NOT ASHAMED. But I will say that there will be a buildup to more angst and drama in a few chapters that will move the story along. I promise I have a plan for this one. And that plan includes dark and angsty things because we all know I can't seem to escape that. 😭

Thank you so much for reading!! If you'd like to be added to my taglist please let me know :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @ej13928 @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @modiddys-blog

@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic #fanfiction #fanfic

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agi-ppangx · 2 years ago

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💭right person, wrong time (100 followers special)

“you should definitely go,” chan said quietly, his voice strained and filled with misery. you didn't say anything back, quietly fighting the tears angrily wailing in your eyes.

you two were lying on the beach, listening to waves hitting the shore. the sea was restless that day - as if it sensed your mood. you were cuddled with him on a small blanket you took from the car, surrounded by his cologne, the scent you knew all too well and loved even more.

you'd just told him about the offer you received a few days before. you were given this huge opportunity which could possibly change your entire career for better. though there was something that made this whole thing a bit less exciting. yes, you got into a one-year program for aspiring scientists, but it was taking place in canada. but who would reject such a great opportunity to finally spread their wings? who would even question whether to go or not? well, that would be you. of course, it was huge and it could quite literally change your whole life - better income, bigger knowledge, more opportunities to work with respected scientists in the future. but then there was chan.

you two met almost five years earlier. you were friends with felix, who happened to be chan’s friend as well, so it was natural for the two of you to meet up at different occasions. and the bond between you grew and grew. he would help you to figure out how to write an essay for a particularly mean lecturer even though he knew shit about the topic. and he would always bring you snacks and coffee for your late study sessions, helping you to write and cut the flashcards and proofread your drafts to check if there are any typos and grammar mistakes. but you two would also enjoy mundane activities such as going to the movies or cooking together. you would spare shy glances at him when he wasn’t looking just to admire him. in the meantime he shared his love for music with you, creating you various playlists for different occasions and playing piano for you. he'd never told you before, but with you he felt safe, as if any worries in his life disappeared when you approached him, you were his haven. and over the time you realised that you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore - his shiny eyes, soft smile and unique worldview made you fall in love with him too. of course, you hadn’t figured it out in a few days, you simply couldn’t. but after what seemed like eternity you both sorted things out in your heads and a week ago you finally talked about it. and when you thought that everything in your life was coming together the offer came and you started questioning every single decision you have ever made. you thought about how are you going to tell chan about it - you knew he would be supportive, of course he would. and you loved that about him. but deep down you were hoping, just a little bit, that he’s going to be selfish this time, that he’s going to tell you “please stay here with me”. but he simply couldn’t, he knew this was too big for you to let it go.

“you do want to go, right?” he then asked, there was panic in his voice at your lack of response. why was he panicked? “i guess so…” you finally mumbled, not sure at the moment. all you knew is that you wanted to be where you were right now - in chan’s arms, surrounded by his warm body and this pretty cologne.

“what do you mean? i mean, you love your job, it’s a great offer. i’m pretty sure not everyone got it” he spoke again, trying to help you, convince you that this is what you should do right now. in reality he tried to convince himself, not wanting to say anything that could discourage you from going. of course he wanted you to make your dreams happen, your happiness was his happiness. but why now?

"sure, i love my job, i just… now i wanna be here, with you," you mumbled, cheeks rosy. suddenly you felt embarrassed, because who on earth would put a boy over a great career?

but chan wasn't just a boy, he was a person you could quite literally see your future with. it didn't matter that you weren't really in a real relationship yet, you both knew it was just a formality now. "hey, yn, i'm not mad that you're leaving now. i want you to be happy and i know this is gonna make you happy, yeah?" he whispered, his voice getting weaker and weaker with every word. you suddenly got up, breaking free from his warm embrace. "you know what would make me happy now? being here, with you," you shouted, angry tears welling in your eyes. "going to the convenience store at 2am to buy some snacks, watching a new movie on netflix and cuddling on a sunday morning. you would make me really happy now," you whispered the last words, feeling defeated. what was the point of lying? he knew how you felt towards him.

the tears started falling down your face and you started to shiver from the cold wind. chan didn't waste time, he got up as well and brought you to his chest, hugging tightly, and started rubbing soothing circles on your back. he muttered sweet nothing into your hair, kissing your forehead from time to time. but you couldn't calm down, not now. you wanted to let out your anger and misery, wanted the whole world to know how deeply hurt you're right now. you wanted to scream on the top of your lungs at whoever was up there, cursing at them for putting you in this situation.

but you sobbed into chan's chest instead, desperately clutching at his hoodie. you were like a porcelain doll, fragile and defenseless.

"it sucks, you know? i-i really thought we could be together but-" you hiccuped through tears. at this point your head hurt, your eyes stung and you grew more and more tired. "it's okay, i'll wait for you however long you want me to" chan interrupted you, sensing your pain. it was hard for him too, knowing he has to set you free and let you spread your wings. how bittersweet, chan thought. he was willing to wait for you, but god, was he impatient by nature. he wanted to kiss you hungrily, clutch into your clothes and never let go. but now it would only broke the two of you even more and he was not letting it happen.

you stayed like this for a long time, over the time your broken sobs stopped, but you didn't let go of chan, clutching to him like a koala. he was quiet, running his fingers through your hair.

"i don't want you to regret going, yn" chan spoke suddenly, his voice barely above the whisper. "i don't mind waiting, i just want you to go there and make your dream come true, 'cause seeing you happy will make me happy." you sighed and finally looked up to make eye contact with chan. "you know i love you, right?" chan was caught of guard by your words, but he smiled nonetheless. he nodded and placed a soft kiss on your temple. "i will come back and when i do i'll make sure to compensate you this year," you exclaimed, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it.

a few days later chan accompanied you to the airport. you didn't want to let go of his hand, as if he was going to disappear as soon as you do. but the time didn't stop for the two of you and you had to say your goodbyes. "can i kiss you?" chan asked you and you looked at him. "not now. if you do, i won't go anywhere." he only smiled sadly at your words but nodded his head. he understood. with that you pecked his cheek instead and let go of his hand with tears in your eyes. "see you soon, chan" you whispered. "see you soon, yn".

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

#skz #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz au #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids bang chan #skz bang chan #bang chan x you #skz chan #bang chan fanfic #skz angst #stray kids angst #bang chan angst #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan x reader

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spidersinyourshoes · 5 months ago

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Phantom Troupe music headcanons because i cannot stop projecting my interests onto them

in honor of me creating 6 different playlists today, here’s my thoughts on what type of music the Phantom Troupe would be into :>

Chrollo

Likes classic goth bands such as The Cure and Bauhaus, and is also really into classical music

Avid collector of the most obscure type of music that no one has ever heard of

Like what do you mean the first hour of your playlist is just Gregorian chants??

Listens to artists who have roughly 7 monthly listeners, and somehow he is 3 of them

Also an insane music nerd

He just somehow knows everything about different genres and their societal significance

Will also go into long rants about music based subcultures and their relevance

Nobunaga

Bit pretentious with it lol

Just doesn’t get modern music

Big fan of anything from the 70s or 80s though

Any song he can get nostalgic over tbh

Probably likes Johnny Cash as well??

Just picture any music that you’d hear at a suburban barbecue organized by single dads and he’d know all the songs by heart

Feitan

I don’t see him as someone who listens to a lot of music tbh

But when he does it’s some obscure shit

Probably more into instrumentals than vocals

Again, doesn’t care much, just know that it has to sound haunting or moody, otherwise he’ll turn that shit off

Shalnark swears he once saw him nodding along to Elton John but no one believes him

That did happen actually

He blames Phinks

Machi

Another one who doesn’t listen to a lot of music, but does have a few playlists she rotates between

Went through an emo phase when she was younger and still knows all of the lyrics to basically every Paramore song

Now she’s more partial to artists like Lana Del Rey and Girl in Red

Likes chill songs that aren’t too intense, just here for some good vibes that don’t distract too much

Phinks

Dad rock.

That’s it. That’s the headcanon

Single-handedly responsible for half of Led Zeppelin’s streams

Argues with Nobunaga over who has the better taste in music even though there’s actually a lot of overlap in their tastes

Has a guilty pleasure for emotional ballads as well but he’d sooner die than admit that out loud

Shalnark

Listens to everything

And when I say everything I mean everything

Has about a million playlists all for hyper specific scenarios and moods, but the only playlist he ever actually listens to is just a massive collection of all his favorite songs

It’s definitely over 50 hours long, and will switch from Britney Spears to Pierce the Veil, then the entire Shrek soundtrack, followed by old school country, of course some lo-fi beats, and then goes right back to ABBA

Everyone hates it but he loves it

If it sounds good it’s going in his playlist

Half of the songs he listens to are in languages he doesn’t even speak

Franklin

Chill music because he’s a chill guy

Likes the blues and jazz

But can also appreciate some 90s grunge

When driving, he’s the only one allowed on the aux because no one else can be trusted to play music that everyone will enjoy

Somehow he just knows exactly what songs to play with different people so that everyone can enjoy themselves

Shizuku

Unironically listens to elevator music

Another one of those ‘If I like it, I like it’ people

Really doesn’t care about genres or what’s popular

But I do think that Sufjan Stevens is one of her top artists every year

Does tend to listen to the same song on repeat for hours without even realizing it though

Pakunoda

Her taste in music is timeless and classy, much like herself

To her, it’s important that music shows emotion or tells a story

Debussy and Chopin are some of her favorites

She likes smooth, elegant music, perfect to dramatically sip wine to

Also prefers vinyl records over their digital counterparts

Honestly her music is the perfect ambience for planning heists

Bonolenov

Bono, being the walking music instrument he is, has a very deep connection to music

He has an insane sense of rhythm, and likes his music to be very rhythmic as well

The type of music you can dance to

While nothing will ever beat the music from his own tribe, he also loves exploring traditional music from different cultures all over the world

Preserving that type of music is very important to him

He can probably deduce a songs hidden meaning or secret story very easily, even if others are struggling to even comprehend what they’re listening to

He can certainly appreciate the artistry of different genres as well

But culturally significant music will always interest him most

Uvogin

All genres of metal and rock

As long as it’s loud, he’ll like it

Definitely the type of person to listen to Motörhead at 3AM and fall asleep to Black Sabbath

Could definitely do the vocals in a metal band if he felt like it

Also listens to Frank Sinatra religiously

I’m sorry I don’t make the rules that’s just how it is

Kortopi

Probably really likes very experimental stuff

Something that’s unconventional and just a tad eerie

Has never made a playlist once and doesn’t plan to

Just picks a song he likes and then listens to whatever’s suggested next

Probably listens to haunted house music to relax

Like out of tune organs with creaky doors in the background

The occasional whisper of a ghost

Everyone thinks it’s really weird but he’s enjoying himself lmao

And of course, they are all theater kids in their own right, so play any song from broadway and they’ll sing along (some more enthusiastically than others)

#are some of these based on my own questionable listening habits?#Maybe #hxh headcanons #phantom troupe #phantom troupe headcanons #hxh #hunter x hunter #chrollo #nobunaga #feitan #machi komacine #phinks #shalnark #franklin bordeau #shizuku murasaki #pakunoda #bonolenov #uvogin #kortopi

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magics-neptunes-things · 2 years ago

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Hi guys!

After the last one, I needed another with fluff and easy love, so this just come from my imagination. I hope you will like it ♥

Resume : Motherhood is hard, especially when your better half is in training camp far from you.

TW : Little Angst, but fluff :)

PART 2 IS HERE!

______________________________________________________________

Alexia and you met when she was going through one of the worst moments of her life. It was when the footballer made her ACL. For your part, you had graduated as a physiotherapist a few years ago and were looking for a new challenge. When you heard that FC Barcelona were looking for a new physio, you didn’t hesitate to apply. It was hard, but by some miracle, you got the job. The managers didn’t tell you that the job was for the women’s team, but it suited you even better.

A month after you arrived at your post, Alexia began to follow her treatment after her operation. You’ve been assigned as Miss Putellas' special physiotherapist, probably a bit of a probation. You’ve been warned that she might be difficult to handle, her injury having affected her otherwise than physically.

And it was true, in the first few sessions, she barely spoke. She was polite, said hello, thank you, and goodbye. For your part, you remained calm while being empathetic. As you were told, she seemed even more troubled psychologically than physically and you could feel her pain. So you searched about her favorite songs and you made a playlist for her during your massages or during her exercises.

Over time your relationships relaxed and you found yourself eagerly waiting for the time of day when you would have to take care of Alexia. You obviously noticed her beauty and the aura that reigned around her. A friendship and mutual trust was quickly created between you two and she gradually confided to you. On trivial things at first, before your discussions become deeper.

She told you about her father, her family, her fear of not being able to play again and the difficulties she was experiencing with the Spanish Federation. You were shocked to learn what was happening and immediately felt angry. And the first feeling you had was a vital desire to protect Alexia from all this. And the other girls you’re playing with at FC Barcelona as well of course, since you’re the one who plays nurses on the bench at all their matches. But Alexia was coming first.

The first time Alexia could start running on a machine now, you could have cried of joy and relief. She was recovering well, even faster than the best prognosis. And seeing such a sincere smile come back on her face was something really comforting for you. The embrace you exchanged that day gave you chills you still remember.

The day she returned to the team for her first training on the pitch, you were there too, but in the back. Her friends/teammates welcomed her with big smiles and hugs, but at the end of the training she came to you. She once again took you in her arms and whispered a thank you in your ear. No need for long speeches, you knew perfectly well how much this word meant to her.

While you expected this to signal a new distance between the two of you, Alexia surprised you by asking if you were free the same evening to go for a drink. It surprised you, Alexia having the habit of not changing her schedule meal, back to school or bedtime. But when she stuttered "For like, you know, a d- a date?" you couldn't say no.

The rest is history and here you are years later in an healthy, loving et happy relationship. You even got engaged last Christmas.

Alexia always wanted to start a family and your heart melt every time she was interacting with a baby or child. On your second date, she asked you if you wanted children, testifying to the importance she already attached to a future family life between you two. You answered positively, because yes, you wanted to have children and with Alexia would be amazing.

So, a month ago, you welcomed into your lives Santana Eli Putellas. A perfect photocopy of Alexia, even if you were the one pregnant. Thanks to modern methods, you were able to transfer her egg into your body. It was much easier for Alexia’s career, even though she was more attentive to you than ever.

The same eyes, the same mouth, the same hair, the same face, the same look. Even Eli couldn’t figure out which of the two photos was Alexia and Santana when faced with this plot. It’s almost disturbing, but the idea of having created a second perfection in this world suits you perfectly.

Except that even perfection has its difficulties and you realize it more than ever today. For some reason, Santana hasn’t stopped crying since her afternoon nap. Despite her clean diaper, her full stomach, her usual afternoon stroll or her favorite nursery rhymes, you were unable to calm her down. So much so that you couldn’t even answer Alexia’s messages, who went to training camps for the national team.

Even if this camp is held in Barcelona, the team lives in a hotel for a few days, before flying to Canada for their first match. Your lack of answer probably explains why you find yourself having to answer a call from your fiancée after 9pm. You hesitate before answering, your physical state must be scary and Santana is always sobbing on your shoulder. But knowing Alexia’s protective lioness instinct, you’d rather not worry her any longer.

"Hola mi Amor" you try a smile when a frowning Alexia appears on the screen.

"What happened? Why didn't you answer to my text? I was beginning to believe that something serious had happened to you"

"Don't worry, we are fine"

You were still rocking Santana on your shoulder, putting your phone on the counter of your kitchen. After bathing her, you put on her pajamas in the colors of FC Barcelona and she is currently digesting her second bottle of the evening. Whereas normally she takes only one before falling asleep to wake up at midnight and then around 6 am. This baby is really perfect. Except that today something seems wrong.

"Are you sure? You look exausted mi vida"

The concern on Alexia's face is deep and you don't want to worry her. You don't want her to believe that you can't take care of your daughter for a day either. Alexia only left this morning after all.

"We are fine Ale, I pr-"

"Does the best goddaughter in the world make her Mama miserable?"

Mapi’s face suddenly sticks to Alexia's, certainly so that she can also have a glimpse of Santana. Choosing Mapi as godmother was the best idea, the tattooed one being the most adorable with Santana. A chaotic godmother certainly, but you know perfectly well that she too would be ready to take out her claws to defend Santana if necessary.

"Kind of, but everything is under control" you laugh, before realizing that she wasn't listening to you at all, cooing sweat words to Santana. "Did I suddenly become invisible?"

"Not for me" Alexia answer with tenderness in her voice. "I miss you both of you so much, I don't know how I will survive two weeks so far away"

"You will be perfect, as always mi Amor"

She smiles at you, Mapi having a side conversation with your daughter, and you see the concern coming back.

"Can you promise me that you are fine?"

You bite your lip and sight. It was not fair of her to play the sincerity card. She knows that you can't lie to her, even when you want to make her surprise, you have to ask the help of someone.

"Look, she's just having a bad day that's all. Tomorrow will be better."

Alexia opened her mouth to speak and most certainly contradict you, but noise next to her announces the arrival of other people. You smile when you see Ona and Ingrid appear on the screen, Mapi pulling the sleeve of the Norwegian to almost stick her face to the screen ("Look at her, how is she so cute?").

You greet them friendly and discuss with them a few more moments before feeling that Santana starts to agitate again. Before Alexia can see how bad, you tell them you’re going to put her to bed. After promising Alexia to write to her as soon as Santana sleeps, you hang up and gently lift your daughter to put her face up to yours.

"Now that you’ve heard Mama and your Godmother, maybe we can get some rest yeah?"

After a final diaper check, you enter your daughter’s room and sit on her rocking chair. His blanket between you two, a little melody and a lull, it should go well and quickly.

An hour and a half later, you must realize you’re not. Santana continues to struggle with sleep and has begun to cry again. Seeing her like this ended up making you cry. After walking around your house trying to put her to sleep, you went back to her room. You don’t know what to do anymore.

You were thinking about calling Eli or your mother for help when you hear noise on the ground floor. Which shouldn’t happen, since you’re alone in the house with Santana. You listen despite the cries of your daughter and your hear footsteps, making you shiver. Holding your daughter close to your heart, you rush to the kitchen to grab a knife. Putting Santana safely in her crib might have been smarter, but you can’t bring yourself to leave her alone while a danger lurks in the house. The baby stopped crying, like if she understood that something bad is happening.

The noises of footsteps approach the kitchen and panic fades to give way to a cold determination. You have to protect your daughter no matter what. Sticking your back in the fridge, you raise the knife you hold in your hand, ready to hit the figure that enters the room. But...

"Wow! It’s me Baby! It’s me!"

With both hands in the air, Alexia looks at you with wide eyes less than a meter from you.

"Alexia? Wha- what are you doing here?"

"You weren't answering my text again and I... Can you put this knife down please?"

"Oh... Yes, sorry."

You were shaking. The sound of metal that the knife makes when you put it on the marble of the worktop resonates in the room.

"I was too concerned to leave you both alone."

Alexia confesses with almost shyness, certainly fearing that you would take this information badly. You could have, a few hours before. Exhausted from this day, you carefully avoid your girlfriend’s gaze.

"I’m so sorry I scared you. Can I have her?"

Santana started to squirm in your arms and cry again and you gently reach her to Alexia. With a natural ability, the blonde forms a small nest with her arms to accommodate the little body of your daughter. She calms down almost instantly and only then do you realize you have tears in your eyes. After admiring Santana for a few moments, Alexia looks up at you and notices it too.

"Come here" she says, extending her free arm to you.

You cuddle against her, hiding your face in her neck. Her arm squeeze you thigh against her. Her smell helps you to relax and you mumble against her skin.

"I don’t understand what I did wrong today"

"Probably nothing mi Vida. Just like you said, she's just having a bad day. Let me take care of her and go take a hot shower and put on comfortable pajamas, alright?"

You hesitate for a few moments, but Alexia kisses you tenderly before gently pushing you towards your bathroom. You end up obeying, enjoying feeling your muscles relax under the hot water. When you get out, the condensation masked the mirror above the sink. After putting on Alexia’s shorts and t-shirt, you go looking for her in the calm of your home.

She delicately closes the door of Santana’s room when you appear in the corridor.

"Is she asleep?" you ask, incredulous.

Alexia answers with a simple smile and a nod, before taking you into the living room.

"How did you do it?"

"As usual"

Alexia shrugs while smiling and you sighs. That’s what you did, but you are still convinced that Santana simply miss Alexia. You’d rather not say it out loud, though, fearing it would prevent Alexia from focusing on her professional obligations.

"When do you have to go back?"

You try not to pout by asking her the question. It was the deal anyway, you knew very well what could happen when you decided to have a child.

"Not tonight, I informed the coach. I have to be in training tomorrow morning anyway."

The information makes you much too happy, you who promised not to prevent Alexia from following her professional ambitions. But you cannot hide your smile and you stick against her again, in search of affection and tenderness. Accepting your request, Alexia tightens her two arms around you, allowing you to feel perfectly safe.

You stay here for a while, simply taking advantage of the other’s presence. Alexia’s hands play with the tip of your hair while yours fondle her lower back tenderly.

"Did you eat?" you ask her after a few moments.

"No. What about you?"

You pout and Alexia doesn’t need any other words to answer. You just haven’t had time to swallow anything since your breakfast shared with the pretty blonde.

"Let me cook you something. It’s your turn to go put on your pajamas"

You let go of her arms and put a tender kiss on her lips, happy to have her with you when it was absolutely not planned. A few minutes later, you find yourself cooking a fideua, Alexia’s favorite.

Lost in your thoughts, still exhausted from this day, you don't hear Alexia’s steps coming in your direction. You’re too tired to jump when you feel her arms go around your waist, her lips kiss behind your ear making you smile.

"It smells very good mi Vida"

"That’s good because it’s ready"

You tiptoed to grab two plates, paying particular attention not to make too much noise to avoid waking Santana.

"Why don’t we sit on the couch and watch the television?"

Alexia’s proposal surprises you, but you willingly accept. You sit on the couch, letting Alexia settle against you this time. After all, she too is probably tired from her training. Seeing her eat your dish with enthusiasm makes you happy and you find yourself admiring it rather than feeding yourself.

"You're starring"

Alexia smiles and glances at you, making you smile back.

"Perhaps, but it's certainly by admiring you as soon as I have the opportunity that I was able to clone you" you joke softly.

Alexia laughs and puts her plate and cutlery on the coffee table, as you did a few minutes before her. She turns around abruptly before throwing herself into your arms, making you fall over on the couch. Seeing her so spontaneous with you while she tends to constantly master her image makes you melt. And when she puts dozens of kisses all over your face, you can’t help but giggle.

"I guess today’s not the day to tell you I want a big family?"

Her mischievous smile makes you roll your eyes.

"We’ll talk about it in like two years, if you don’t mind."

#woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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saberamane · 9 months ago

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Guys, I really don't have the time, AND I'm still working on the final arc of 'We Were Born For This' between 12+ hour work days and art/craft stuff... but...

I started outlining a super angsty modern Clay/Federico fic.

So first big story element, Clay is about 9 years older than newly out, baby gay Federico. His parents do not approve.

Clay has a rough background, coming from a 'broken' home which left visible and mental scars.

Clay has *too many* tattoos. I'm talking 1 full sleeve, at least, which crawls up his neck, and over onto his chest and back. Definitely more on said chest/back, with a few more sprinkled in his thighs/calves. And piercings. (Federico's parents DO NOT approve.)

Clay's main job is working on cars and bikes in a garage. His 'side hustle' is creating original music talking about his past and the trauma he's been through, how he dealt with it then vs now. It's very worrying music, in most people's eyes. Federico's parents, of course, don't approve.

Unsurprisingly, the relationship doesn't last long. Clay is not willing to let Federico destroy his relationship with his parents for dating him. Clay doesn't want to be the reason Federico 'loses' his family, and thinks he's doing the right thing by ending the relationship.

Federico turns bitter against his parents anyway. They judged Clay based on his looks alone, and not how Clay spoke or acted.

Federico spends the next couple years exclusively dating guys his parents 'approve' of, looks wise, and each ends horribly. All these guys 'look' respectable and kind, but treat Federico poorly, or date him for his families wealth, or end up cheating on Federico. While Clay 'looked' rough, or like he'd be violent, he was genuinely caring and treated Federico like royalty. These other guys have treated him like a glorified slave.

Federico has a big fight with his parents, pointing out that they chased off a genuinely good man and ruined his relationship because they didn't like how Clay looked, and all the guys they liked the look of treated Federico exactly how they thought Clay would have.

Plot stuff, Federico runs into Clay again, more plot, people actually talk to each other, etc.

For an idea of what kind of background Clay has, or music he makes, this plot idea came to me after having a random Citizen Soldier playlist come on...so look them up if you want. I will be making a playlist for the songs that gave more direct inspiration.

#personal #assassin's creed #assassins creed #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #Plot bunny #Fanfic idea #clay kaczmarek #federico auditore

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weirdmageddon · 2 months ago

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i got further inspired by these tags on my post-turned-essay, which you should read by the way:

#wish they had more time to get into Hank ik they wanted to #I think Hank was gonna be the end part of vbros no matter what. his story to me felt like that

so here is a playlist i made for it.

it’s supposed to encompass hank’s time in season 6, 7, and filling in for whatever season 8 was going to be, extrapolating from baboon heart.

it’s 3 hours and 4 mins long in order to make up for the loss of season 8 hank content. you just know doc and jackson wanted to do more with him so i bulked it a little, with these songs kind of standing in for hank’s psychological experiences in a narrative way. i’m at least quite happy with it.

headphones recommended 🎧

spotify:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3eClkHEM7JIZTy4iK3iGxe?si=lDwnwuEVSlyobZDEXMBIPw

youtube (alternative):

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCu5XwRLYS0AO_gB_cN6HFIisbotrCY8Z

the picks are very meaningful and deliberate. i pay attention to detail so it’s supposed to be listened to in order since it implies the story. plus i used songs that transition nicely for immersion.

hopefully you can also get some good imaginary mental cinema out of it to make up for season 8 being shrunk. (shouldn’t be too hard since i chose the songs that had something of his personality in them, his core emotions internally, and/or his state at that point in time)

some commentary:

animal collective radiates hank’s psychological core so well, the energy and instrumentation and spirit and lyrics too. this band has been in my life since i was 8 and it’s attached to memories of my own. sometimes avey tare’s voice has this character to it that just fits like a glove and the way he some phonemes roll off the tongue resembles hank’s voice a bit too, for example the long “er” vowel sounds. that’s why there’s so many songs from them on here, there was so much fitting material to draw from. i also thought it added coherence and created a central character/protagonist.

dan deacon’s America was such an obvious choice. adored this album since i first heard it back in 2015. there’s a pitchfork magazine interview with deacon that sits in the back of my mind. the actual album is in itself is partly inspired by him traveling cross-country across the US by train from seattle to new york alone, having gone off-the-grid during the 2006 holiday season to break away and reflect. in hank’s case of course it would be new york to colorado springs. the lyrics are perfect. it fits hank’s surroundings, both his outside environment in this scenario and his psychological environment.

like i said the songs are also fairly personally significant to me too. there many long-time favorites and artists that i’ve been supremely loyal to over the years. you’ve maybe seen some of them on other of my favorites playlists too but this is where they can really truly shine. i realized that hank and a few of these artists overlap in key typologies which explains why i feel like it fits him so well. but also i’ve been listening to them well before i knew hank as a character! (clearly says something about me in particular for being so drawn to hank as a character and the bands featured the most on this playlist who have been serving as my musical “home”, always a safe option no matter my mood for years and strongly stuck with me through those years.)

if you listen i’d love to hear what you think!

what i mean by overlapping typologies is that hank venture is ESE 7w6

and here’s what i’ve analyzed these artists as independently both from lyrics and interviews

animal collective: ESE 7w6 [identity relation]

dan deacon: ESE 6w7 or 7w6 [identity relation]

coil: IEI 5w4 [supervison relation]

durutti column (vini reilly): IEI 9 [supervison relation]

magazine (howard devoto): LII 5 [dual relation]

fun fact 1: on that album America, Dan Deacon got Simon Heyworth to engineer the sound it, who’s also mastered for King Crimson, Nick Cave, Brian Eno

fun fact 2: Doc Hammer owns John McGeoch’s actual guitar (Magazine)

fun fact 3: Howard Devoto and Pete Shelley are both LII like Doc and me

#hank venture #vbros #venture bros #the venture bros #im looking at this and thinking to myself “i must be hank’s strongest soldier in this fandom atp”

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dynamic-swap-au-archive · 1 year ago

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I'd like to offer gorillaz fans (and Potential gorillaz fans) another resource that I've spent over a year creating and perfecting.

The Gorillaz !

This playlist is, to the best of my ability, Every Single piece of gorillaz content that can be found on youtube in story order.

all of the music videos, all of the indents, all of the interviews, animations, radio shows, news specials, podcasts, audio books, tiktoks, Everything.

on top of that ! I made the decision to include select fan content! because Frankly the gorillaz fandom is unimaginably talented and creative. this includes Fully animating several music videos that were cancelled, but given to us in animatic form, original animations, animatics, and storyboards, fan visualizers and recreations of live visuals, even voice fan dubs for written material like the interviews and novels.

and more than that, with the (incredible) fan content that was available I've Also been able to flesh out the stories of each phase! a decision I made due to the plastic beach, the third album, never getting to finish the story officially (leading to the band breaking up and coming back 7 years later).

I'm so proud of what I've been able to do with it ! and even happier to share the picture I've been able to make as a whole :>

below the cut I'm going to include several other playlists that are based on this one, but made to be more digestible and less intimidating for newcomers ! as well as many other resources to fill in the gaps that this playlist can't ! (namely the written material)

thank you ! and I hope I can share something I love with all of you !

First is the simplest ! all of the music videos in order ! (plus a Few indents, because I can't help myself): [Link]

this obviously means that you lose out on quite a bit of context, as much of who the characters are as People and their relationships together are in the extra material (especially the shorts and interviews). BUT

this is the most Accessible, and also really convenient if you just want to vibe to the music. if you're not sure if you want to commit this kind of time to a cartoon band, consider checking this out! you may find yourself interested enough to learn more, or you may just have a good time and feel satisfied with what you've seen ! either way I'd be honored to have helped :>

Second, the Midpoint between these two extremes !: Phase 1-3 [Link] Phase 4-7 [Link]

these Include extra material like the shorts and animation, but Cuts Out some of the longer content like the podcasts and interviews! you can still get a pretty good idea about what happens in the story of each phase watching this, but it's not bogged down by videos that are hours long.

it'll give you a clearer picture of what's going on, include fun side content, while being less intimidating than the Full playlist. this is what I use to show my friends gorillaz !

alright, so you've got just the music videos and just the short stuff, now lets try just the Long stuff. all of the interviews, radio shows, podcasts, Etc: [Link]

maybe you've used my last playlists and now you'd like to listen to some of those long form videos you missed out on. maybe you just want to listen to these characters talk because it's Nice. either way, it's all here :> (I know, because I had to upload some of them myself)

Pirate Radio: [Link]

it's all here with One technical exception. pirate radio was the serial radio show for plastic beach/phase 3, that gave us insight into murdoc's frame of mind as a character. it Also used copywriten music. the reuploads on youtube cut the music out (likely because they wouldn't be available otherwise), while this google drive has the full unedited audio files if anyone would be interested!

this one may seem redundant, but I promise it isn't. All of the gorillaz albums in order: [Link]

this playlist (for the most part) doesn't Have any visuals, it's Only the music.

likewise, all of the music in the previous playlists are only those songs that Have visuals (official or fan made), which means not all of gorillaz's music is present! which is exactly what this is for :>

you have every album in order, filling in the gaps of what's been missed, As Well As special albums that are Associated with gorillaz, and gorillaz' guest appearances in other people's music !

now we're out of my playlists and into other resources :>

Lobotomy Pop: [Link]

this is a website that's worked for years to preserve and organize Every Single written interview gorillaz has ever done ! it's an invaluable resource and really just very cool.

it also categorizes several other things ! such as listing out all of the personal playlists the gorillaz members have put out over the years, or every profile that's ever been written for the characters ! it's very much so worth checking out as a fan.

Gorillaz Art Archive: [Link]

exactly what is says on the tin ! this is a google drive that's attempting to archive Every Single piece of official gorillaz art that was released from phase 1 in 2001, to phase 5 in 2018. it is Massive and it's such a joy to have access to

The Kong Files: [Link]

if you were wondering why the art archive stopped at 2018, this would be why ! the kong files has much the same goal, but instead picking up at phase 6 and continuing on Theoretically forever ! or at least it's kept up with all of phase 7

that said ! the kong files is attempting to document Everything relating to those phases. so all of the social media, all of the music videos, all of the written text, Everything !

I wouldn't try to Only use this for watching phase 6 and 7, but it's an Excellent resource for everything that could fall between the cracks

Rise of the Ogre on Archive dot Com: [Link]

rise of the ogre was an official novel released at the end of demon days (the second album/phase 2), that covered the entire history of the band up until that point! their backstories, how they met each other, what they'd gotten up to in the 10 years they'd known each other, and the shocking event that happened at the very end of the phase and the band's reaction to it. all leading in to plastic beach, (arguably) the Most story heavy phase of them all.

as I understand it, this novel has been out of print for a very long time and is quite expensive to buy second hand. so ! it's been scanned and uploaded here to the archive! there's actually several more scans available in the gorillaz art archive, but this is the most recent (having been uploaded just earlier this year).

Dawn of the Ogre: [Link]

dawn of the ogre is the fanmade sequel to rise of the ogre, attempting to fill in the gaps of what happened at the end of phase 3, the 7 year gap, and up to the (then) newest point of canon.

this is, of course, unofficial. so this is essentially fancy fanfiction. But it's extremely well done fanfiction that happens to be novel length, attempting to emulate the style of the original novel, and is fully illustrated. along with being available completely for free!

I'd definitely give it a shot, if you're the type of person who's already read rise of the ogre

the gorillaz wiki !: [Link]

I have no clue what the fandom thinks about it, but it was absolutely invaluable both in making my playlist, and becoming a fan at all. with all the work I've done my hope is that people won't need to go digging for themselves, but the Option is certainly always nice !

I'd Especially like to highlight this page [Link] which has transcriptions for all of the pirate radio show episodes !

I feel like there's a lot to find here :>

and of course, my own dynamic swap au archive! [Link]

if you've fallen in love with gorillaz and are desperate for more to sink your teeth into, then I couldn't recommend this enough !

keep in mind that these resources will continue updating ! as new music is created and new fan content is made! I'm keeping my eyes out on a fan project for a fully animated mv right now that I'm sure will make it to my playlists one day :>

#gorillaz #stuart pot #2d gorillaz #murdoc niccals #murdoc gorillaz #russel hobbs #russel gorillaz #noodle gorillaz #guide #it's a shame I Just missed demon day's anniversary #such is life

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gundamthey17 · 4 months ago

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Day 3 of Payneland Promptfest 2024

Day 3: mistletoe | “That’s because it’s enchanted.” | sharing a holiday tradition

After thirty years together, Charles knows Edwin’s idiosyncrasies well. For example, he knows that Edwin will pause before entering a room, taking note of its layout before going inside. This is doubly true when he is entering a room full of people - living or dead. Edwin takes note of who is there, and where they are, cataloguing the information neatly away in his mind. Charles doesn’t know if the habit is one Edwin developed in hell or if he’d had it when he was alive, and he doesn’t ask. He doubts it’s something Edwin is even conscious of.

What Charles does know is that, in this instance, that piece of information is going to come in handy.

It was not all that difficult to convince Edwin that they should have a Christmas party at the butcher shop. (In fact, Niko and Crystal had had the far more difficult task of convincing Jenny to allow such a thing.) What Charles had not anticipated was that Edwin had no interest whatsoever in helping decorate for the occasion. At the time, Charles had been annoyed, but now he realizes it was a stroke of luck.

Crystal is hanging fairy lights in the shop’s front windows. Niko is standing over a cardboard box full of decorations and knick knacks, some of which belong to Jenny, and others which came from Tragic Mick.

“Where should we put the mistletoe?” Niko asks.

“How about here?” Charles suggests, pointing above the doorway that leads to the back hall.

Jenny shrugs and drags a folding stepladder over. “Works for me.” She takes the mistletoe from Niko, grabs a hammer off the counter, and gets to work hanging up the decorative plant.

Crystal pauses her task to watch. “It’s not quite centered. It needs to go a little to the left.”

Jenny rolls her eyes and moves the mistletoe. “Better?”

“Perfect.”

After the mistletoe is in place and Jenny climbs down from the stepladder, Charles gives her a thumbs-up. She frowns at him. “I should’ve made you do that.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t break your neck if you fall off the ladder.”

Charles chooses to assume that she’s joking, and grins.

Christmas lights twinkle merrily in the windows. Music drifts from a small speaker in the corner, which is somehow connected to Crystal’s mobile phone. (Something about a blue tooth?) Crystal has created a playlist with a mix of new Christmas songs and songs that were old when Charles was alive. (He suspects that even those songs came out well after Edwin’s time, but he hopes Edwin likes them anyway.) Jenny has made hot chocolate and eggnog, and Niko has baked and decorated sugar cookies. Charles can’t smell them, but Niko says the room smells great (“and not like meat at all”), so he takes her word for it. The three living attendees are talking and sipping their drinks contentedly.

Edwin’s appearance in the back hallway is soundless, of course, but Charles still looks up in time to see him cross the threshold of the room - and pause. He’s dressed up for the occasion, in a nice jacket and a festive red bow tie. His gaze drifts gently across the room, taking in the people and the decor. He smiles, just a little. Charles feels himself smiling as well. A part of him wants to stay where he is and just watch Edwin, but he knows he only has a few seconds before Edwin moves further into the room.

It’s now or never. Charles crosses the room in purposeful strides. “Happy Christmas!” he says, breaking into a grin.

“Happy Christmas, Charles,” Edwin says. “You’ve done a lovely job with the decorating.”

It’s as much of an opening as Charles is likely to get, and he takes it. “Crystal and Niko did most of it. I just helped with the mistletoe.”

Edwin frowns and looks around again. “Mistletoe? I don’t see – “

Charles nods upwards. Edwin follows his eyes and spots the mistletoe hanging above them. Charles steps closer, taking Edwin’s hands in his. “Edwin Payne… may I kiss you?”

“Charles Rowland,” Edwin replies, somewhat breathlessly, “you may.”

Charles closes his eyes as his lips meet Edwin’s. Edwin leans into the kiss, his lips parting slightly. The music seems to fade as Charles loses himself in the ghostly sensation of Edwin’s mouth against his own. The moment stretches, neither boy needing to breathe, until Edwin pulls back slightly. “I… I am afraid I do not have much experience with kissing. I doubt that I am any good at it.”

Charles thinks this may be the most blatantly false statement he has heard in his entire afterlife, but he doesn’t argue. Instead he grins and whispers, “Then it’s a good thing I’m here to help you practice.”

#paynelandpromptfest2024 #short but sweet #i really enjoyed writing this one #payneland #edwin payne #charles rowland #my writing #fanfic #crystal palace #niko sasaki #jenny green #dbda #dead boy detectives

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quietnade · 3 months ago

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Wanna go back to 2012?

Since I can remember, I have always been a girl longing for the times that passed by, holding on to nostalgia. I don’t know, is it just me, or do you also feel that bittersweet longing for the early 2010s?

Maybe we cannot turn back time, but we can recreate those simpler times. Here’s how I’ve been making this 2025 my new 2012 lately!

🩷 Mood boards and curating image collections had been a huge part of my teenage years! It may sound like a silly little hobby of a teenage girl running after aesthetics, but trust me when I say that curating these little boards and collections, finding connections in visuals, brings so much inspiration. Back in the WeHeartIt days, I had thousands of collections that I used to get inspired to create OG characters, little stories, and poems. I miss dear old WHI (my typical nostalgic self), though we don’t have her anymore, we have Pinterest, or any other alternative you prefer. Just spend a few minutes a day adding inspiration to your collection, just like the good old days!

🩷 Listen to nostalgic playlists. One Direction, of course, is a must if you are a Directioner like me. Old Taylor’s songs, Ariana, and Demi Lovato are ruling my nostalgic wanna go back to good old days? playlists.

🩷 Room decor is another important thing. I said goodbye to boring beiges and browns and now embrace pastel colors again in my room. I put up 1D posters along with posters of my favorite TV shows and movies. Put on some fairy lights, too, and add pastel pink to appease that inner teenage longing for the best days I ever had.

🩷 Yeah, I know it’s good to avoid "superficial things" (whatever that even means!), if you say so. But watching casual, lighthearted shows and reading YA books won’t hurt your soul. In fact, they might light up your soul more than you’ve ever guessed. I paused my reading of Wuthering Heights back in December 2024 (I might pick her up again after some time, for sure) and thought of rereading the books I used to enjoy, without guilt. I dusted off some books on my shelf, such as Eleanor & Park, Fangirl, and The Fault in Our Stars (and please suggest more books to spark the teenage self in me again!!). Of course, as dystopian as it is, fangirling over The Hunger Games is still important. So is Harry Potter.

🩷 Fangirling! Remember that you are never too old to be a fangirl. Maybe this post is your sign that it’s time to fully embrace your fangirl self (or maybe fanboy) once again. And please, never let her go again. No matter how much you have to deal with the adult world and all its responsibilities, I truly hope you’ll find some time to fangirl over your favorite things guilt-free. Not sure where to start? One Direction, The Hunger Games, and Harry Potter are my favorites, so I suggest them to ya!

🩷 Bring back your old media. Last week, I went on a Barbie movie marathon and felt my heart become full from the good energy they give. I also started rewatching nostalgic TV shows like Merlin (BBC TV show), Once Upon A Time, Gilmore Girls, Pretty Little Liars, The Vampire Diaries, and Wizards of Waverly Place!

🩷 Be faithful to your hobbies! Maybe it’s taking photos and using over-exposure filters, or maybe it’s writing fanfiction that’s trashy to some. But please, never stop loving them. Once again, start writing, start living life carefree. Just like you did back in 2012.

These moments are slipping by, and I’ll do whatever it takes to hold on to them forever and ever. Trust me, you don’t have to let them go, especially those best years of your life!

I love you, 2012–2016, the best era of my life. 🩷

#one direction #2010s #2014 tumblr #nostalgia #nostalgic #nostaliga #nostaligiacore #weheartit #fangirl #1d fandom #2014 aesthetic #old tumblr

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daryascurse · 5 months ago

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𝙲𝙰𝚅𝙴𝙰𝚃 𝙴𝙼𝙿𝚃𝙾𝚁

── Part IV: Cui Bono Fuerit

“So you knew I would come?” you panted as he stood firm between your bowed knees. “So you thought I would be – what – stupid?” “Services stopped.” Coriolanus’s breath was ragged as he snapped back to you. His thumb brushed your jawline, tilting your head up to meet his searing gaze. “No, I shouldn’t have said stupid. I knew you’d be reckless.”

chapter pov : 2nd person reader, AFAB reader, feminine pronouns ❀ tags: hate sεx, elevator sεx, biting ❀ word count: ~4.4k ❀ ao3 ❀playlist

I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned post.

See header "Caveat Emptor" link for table of contents/ chapter 1.

“The Hunger Games?”

You squinted at the painter’s tape plastered firmly over the screen, right below your name and beaming holographic portrait, covering the previous assignment. Hollisee Tympan shot a glance at you over the shoulder of his stiff plaid suit as he pressed the corner of the tape down and stepped back.

“Lucky,” hissed the mouth-breathing Elysia Byron. Her salivating was practically audible.

“I thought I would be starting off in the markets,” you said to no one in particular. “Down at the banks. In the financial district.”

Harrier Bulla was over your other shoulder. “You say you’d rather have the financial markets than the Hunger Games?”

You were still staring at the black ink saying the same three words that blubbered out of his mouth.

“It’s gotten huge the last few years,” Elysia Byron said. “Mr. Tympan, would the Games benefit from perhaps one more page from the station?”

“Or two?”

Mr. Tympan blinked wide, watery eyes at their slimy wheedling. “Mr. Bulla, CapiTV is lucky to have the presence of one page to represent the station. The administration is still wary of the security threats and this is the first year they’re even doing a trial run with outside network involvement. And we don’t get a stipend for it, either. If you had been listening during orientation, you might have heard that.”

“Aren’t you in fashion and style, anyway?” asked Harrier. “What could a style page do at the Games?”

Elysia made a huffing sound. “Actually, style would be very important to cover at the Games.”

“What exactly shall I be covering, anyway?” you asked Mr. Tympan cautiously.

Mr. Tympan shot another look at Harrier and Elysia behind you, all but sticking their tongues out childishly at each other. “Well, you’ll receive a formal memorandum shortly. But we’d like you to focus on backstage operations. We don’t have the equipment – or the manpower – ” which was said loudly to cut off Harrier’s mouth as it opened again “ – to even negotiate a CapiTV presence up front with the Flickerman production. And of course they’ll be doing the main interviews, telling the tribute story. But they’re outsourcing to CapiTV to create something for the slower moments when Lucky needs a break. You won’t be behind the camera, but you’ll be supplying our broadcasters with the inspiration and information to fill that time. And the audience will need some breaks from Lucky, too, while still remaining engaged in the Games.”

“Capitol Television. The Capitol’s vision, to you,” Harrier recited the station’s motto with a toadyish excitement. Elysia rolled her eyes and you prided yourself on the ability to resist the same.

“So it’s just glamorized B-roll,” Elysia said snottily.

Mr. Tympan only blinked at her before turning to walk away.

The other pages began to come up to the screens, and when Harrier and Elysia turned to whisper the new development to them, you began your hasty steps after.

“Mr. Tympan – sorry. One more question.”

“You’ll get the memorandum,” he said, looking down at the papers he thumbed through a binder.

“Well – I mean, I’m flattered,” you said, and caught yourself twisting your hands. “But I wanted to ask why I was the one transferred over. I don’t think I indicated any interest in working for the Games in my page application.”

“You didn’t, and that’s why,” Mr. Tympan said. “I trusted even with your lack of interest you paid more attention than Ms. Byron did to the security briefings in orientation. Even with the last bomb threat being two years ago, the Capitol’s priority is safety and discretion. Each year has to bring improvement in all areas. And you’ve proven yourself… capable of such discretion.”

Given his pause, you weren’t sure if it was something you’ve done in the last two weeks of orientation, or something further back that’d earned you such esteem. You narrowed your eyes and looked quickly away. Mr. Tympan wasn’t familiar from the days of moonlighting that had put you through school. You had secure faith in your memory. But the network had many officers…

“I can keep my mouth shut,” you said, but Mr. Tympan was already walking away again.

The Hunger Games.

It was an anxious thrill that sprang through you, and you raised a soothing hand to circle your belly automatically. But the Peacekeeper at the door turned his helmet towards you at the movement, so you slipped the identification badge between your fingers and raised the card instead.

“I’m from CapiTV,” you said.

He snapped it from your hand with a force that rubbed the lanyard cord hot and painful at the back of your neck. You forced yourself to remain stoic as he investigated the photograph, the same beaming face on the hologram taken as your thoughts were full of financial news dreams.

“How exciting for you,” he grunted.

“Very. Yes, exciting,” you breathed.

Elysia Byron, Harrier Bulla, and then a third page, Kit Crocum, all left calls attempting in some way to convince you to swap posts. “You wanted finance,” Kit had wailed, convinced somehow that being assigned the banks and markets meant that you had stolen the Games from him as the rightful owner.

“I just don’t think it’s up to me to trade,” was how you deflected them all.

When the Peacekeeper held the heavy steel door open with an instruction to go to the sixth floor, you walked past a portrait of Coriolanus Snow. You looked down at your badge again. Yes, you had wanted to work on financial news. You had also wanted to live on the moon as a child.

Moreover, a lot had happened in the time between filling out the interests sheet in the spring and this early summer morning.

You turned your head at the elevator, and it was like his stern blue eyes could follow you all the way down the corridor. You felt the stare prickle on your skin as the elevator rose. The doors opened and you were rubbing the back of your arm subconsciously.

An Avox led you down sea-green steps. They must have been made of some newly engineered glass that didn’t shatter under your sensible heels, but the material dazzled and shone across the floor like an old-fashioned soda bottle you remembered from history classes. Each step made the sound of a diamond falling, and as you approached the small crowd at the buffet table, hundreds of shuffling shoes made the sound echo again and again like an opulent hailstorm. A space opened as two women in high-buttoned suits swept away from the table, where rich brown drapery flowed under platters of canape and thick slices of meat.

Your mouth watered and you thought of the stale crackers in the CapiTV break room.

“Good afternoon. Good afternoon.”

The woman’s voice was icy and clear, cleaving through the dim chatter of colleagues. You snuck a glance towards the front of the room. Backs and elbows blocked your view, and so you discreetly slid a few biscuit cups filled with whipped egg and topped with some green and orange somethings onto a napkin.

“Welcome, media representatives, to the first stages of the Fourteenth Hunger Games,” the woman’s voice continued.

You could see her now, a woman whose golden hair spiraled silver at her temples and shone in two shades of metallic. Her nose was strong, and her gaze somehow pinched. She leaned into the tall iron microphone, her full lips caged behind the netting.

“I am sorry that Dr. Gaul couldn’t come for one last farewell,” she said without further introduction. And from looking at the knowing glances between the crowd, they recognized her without requiring one. You looked down at the eggs nestled in the napkin cupped in your palm.

Well, they each had to have worked their first Games at some point.

You popped one in your mouth and tasted onion and paprika sinking between your teeth.

“Unfortunately, she’s taken ill in the days following retirement, but we wish her the best and a speedy recovery. Fortunately, she completed transitioning our new Head Gamemaker fully into the position, and he’s been hard at work preparing our new Games to start come July. Everything is on schedule, and we’ll have a briefing sheet to bring back to your –” and she sniffed, before smiling tightly “ – little television studios. And he’s taken time out of his busy day to greet you himself.”

The thin crowd swelled around you a moment with a flurry of questions, and you saw the tips of ten perfectly manicured claws rise in the air.

“No, there will be no chances for an exclusive interview. Not today,” she said firmly. Not ever. “Everyone, Mr. Coriolanus Snow.”

You clenched your hand into a fist. The egg burst, creamy white and crumbled biscuit crumbs surging between your fingers, leaking through the thin veil of napkin.

“Thank you, Ms. Trinket.”

He melted out of the crowd, and you snapped your neck back wildly, as if you could recreate where he had come from. You blinked. Blinked again. The egg was tacky against the sweat beading in your palm. There was no reason to be surprised. His portrait had just been in the hall, after all. You should have known; you did know, from the moment you saw that strip of painter’s tape. But you’d never let yourself actually think it so plainly.

“Anastasia Trinket,” Coriolanus said into the microphone. His smile was dazzling, an errant curl artfully falling over his forehead as he turned that smile to her. He had his hands raised in applause. His fingernails were square and clean.

Everyone was applauding now, and you used the excuse of the mess in your hands to turn behind the crimson-suited man in front of you to drop it to the table. You grabbed a napkin and wiped between your fingers, nervously glancing between Coriolanus and the other members of the press.

He looked right at you and the corners of his lips curled.

“Thank you for coming.”

You found it in you at last to clap along, and you gave a few measured, off-beat smacks.

“Let me repeat Ms. Trinket and welcome you again. The Hunger Games this year promise to be our best yet, and we hope that the press will help bring this event to the eyes of all of Panem. Now, you’ll have to see most of it live as the rest of us, but we have prepared a confidential media briefing for your stations, so that you may begin necessary preparations and preview for the citizens of the Capitol what they may expect.”

Coriolanus reached inside his black silk jacket, and the press around you began to pull tablets or recording devices from their pockets and bags. You cleared your throat and unclipped the microphone card attached to your blouse.

“We are very excited to announce that this year, we have at last achieved the goal of hosting the Games in a new arena,” he said, beginning to glance up from a sheet of paper and innocently flitting his gaze to you, to someone on one side, back to you. Your hand was frozen on the blinking recording light. “While the Second Arena has served us will these past few years, the Fourteenth Hunger Games shall move to a new and improved location.”

“Excuse me, will they still be held in the Capitol?”

Ms. Trinket yanked the mic stand to her mouth. “There will be a short time for questions after the briefing,” she snapped.

“For security reasons,” Coriolanus said, in a manner smooth and cold, “we will not be revealing where the new arena is located. However, rest assured that for this same reason, this arena was not built in the Capitol. Nor will any other. For now that we know it is possible to design, engineer, build, and fully synchronize an arena with Capitol control within a year, each Hunger Game will be held in an entirely new and different arena.”

There was a snap of grumbling behind you. Coriolanus’ lips turned in a sneer once more, and you ground your heel into the glass floor.

“So, we have no direct media access to the Games? No cameras and reporters at the arena?” you called out before being able to stop yourself.

Ms. Trinket’s vein threatened to burst out of her forehead, and you almost believed Coriolanus’ face went a shade paler. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for a response, and licked your lip.

“The arena cameras have been enhanced and received a software update,” Coriolanus said almost too quickly. It made your heartbeat a little more even. “Every studio will receive the same feed as always. And the tributes will still train here, and speak to Mr. Flickerman here. That access is the same, which has always been the only real opportunity for first-hand reporting.”

You tapped your foot and said nothing more. And you heard nothing more, too, thankful for the recording card pinned to your shirt. The strength you had pulled out of yourself to move your tongue burned through to your brain, and you were slowly beginning to feel it turn to belligerent epiphany.

He did this. He did this because you had done it, two weeks ago. The longer you stayed silent, the more that steely shine returned to his eye with each haughty glance at you. Once more he was on stage and you captive in the audience; but this time, he was the tiger prowling beyond the bars and locked the human in.

You crossed your arms at the waist and pressed into yourself.

Could it be that he had pulled the strings, all the way to the news studio?

Of course he could.

Coriolanus rolled up the paper at last, and Ms. Trinket moved forward to announce that questions were now welcome. You fidgeted.

There was a flash of memory, of fidgeting and tightening your thigh muscles at the ministrations that silver tongue of his worked between your legs. You tensed again. It did not alleviate.

“Actually,” Coriolanus interjected, “I apologize, but Ms. Trinket will answer your questions. I unfortunately have last minute business to attend to, with the reaping at the week's end. We of course will send invitations to your stations to Lucky Flickerman’s commentary conference. Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your time.”

He turned to give her another few claps of applause, and the crowd fell in line. Coriolanus smiled politely and moved into the crowd. A few offered their hands to receive a brief shake; a gentleman attempted to give him a hearty clap on the back, which earned a stiff half-smile in response. His eyes slid over you, triumphantly caged in by the swaying bars of applauding hands all around.

“Excuse me,” you said, nearly turning into the woman on your right as you turned to push to the back of the crowd yourself.

But Coriolanus had taken a different stream, and when you made it to where only Avoxes stood silent at the wall, he was at the foot of those shallow sea-glass stairs. You cast a glance back at the rest of the press and took hurried steps.

“Coryo – ”

It felt wrong to call for him, as soft as it was.

He barely craned his neck back as he pushed the elevator button.

“I’m sorry, perhaps you didn’t hear Anastasia earlier. There won’t be any exclusives through this media program.”

“And did you get me assigned to this program?”

The doors opened and warm orange light spilled out.

“We had to approve the names each studio submitted,” Coriolanus said measuredly. “For security. You understand.”

“I don’t.”

You stepped inside the elevator after him, and held a hand against the frame. Coriolanus looked over your shoulder to the gathering below.

“Though we didn’t review for competence,” he murmured. “You’re missing the questions and answers. It would be a shame for your station to be behind the curve so early in the Games.”

You tilted your head at him and tightened your eyes. “As if she’s going to give away any trade secrets.”

“Trade secrets,” Coriolanus sighed with exaggeration, “are certainly not on the table. Glad to see CapiTV sends their brightest. Well, good day. I really do have things to attend to.”

He moved to reach for the button to urge the doors closed, almost physically puffed up and preening with his own ego. Your fingers curled at the elevator doors and then stepped inside.

“Coriolanus, I don’t know – ”

The doors slid closed, and Coriolanus lunged forward.

“No, you don’t,” he said, seething, and one hand slammed past your head to the wall behind you. The other reached up to your blouse, and before your eyes, ripped the microphone cord clean off the card.

“You certainly don’t,” Coriolanus continued, and now, without any other eyes or ears he could not keep the curl of his lip off his shining teeth. His blue stare was wild. “Clearly you don’t if you’re so stupid to approach me like this today. Again.”

“You invited me here,” you spat.

“Please select a floor,” the elevator’s automatic voice sang.

Coriolanus punched something in the panel, flinging your microphone to the floor. The elevator began to rise.

“Going up.”

“Anyone could have looked up. Any one of those journalists or reporters could have looked back at the elevator just now.”

“I’ll leave,” you said. “Just bring it back down to the lobby.”

Coriolanus huffed. “You know I was trying to do something nice? I saw your plans in the graduation program, and I felt sorry for you. Clearly you aren’t making much of what your degree is worth, taking a job at CapiTV, of all places. Their reporter has been drunk on camera the last two Games, but I thought maybe I’d give you a shot to turn things around, for you, and your career. I thought I’d do you a favor. Maybe the Games would give you a chance to hone some of your, shall we say, more academic talents.”

Bullshit. “Bullshit,” you said, turning your chin up in his face. “It’s because you wanted me to feel how you felt at graduation. That’s why you organized this little briefing for everyone, isn’t it?”

“How I felt?”

“I’m sorry, Coriolanus, if I had the luxury of knowing that I’d be hearing your valedictorian speech. I’m sorry that you hadn’t bothered to recognize your own classmate outside of school. But I thought I apologized for anything I might have done that day.”

And I shouldn’t have.

“How could you know what I felt?” Coriolanus snarled. “You have no idea what I had planned for that day. I had everything planned, this whole summer, and one day – very important day – was enough to throw it all off track.”

“And that’s my fault?” You were almost shrieking with laughter at the absurdity. “I didn’t make you come to the club, and I didn’t make you lick my pussy.”

The words were delicious coming out of your mouth. You grinned, wild, practically spitting in the face of this ringmaster even as you remembered seeing that face so beautifully framed between your thighs.

“You wanted to.”

Coriolanus’s mouth crashed on yours at that, with the familiar taste of anger on his tongue. You could have bitten him. But you kissed him back and chased that taste; clawed at him instead, tugging his neat shirt from his pants to allow your fingernails up his bare back where your touch could rake at his skin. He hissed.

The elevator began to slow.

“Doors,” you gasped, and his arm muscle flexed out to hit another button.

“Services stopped.”

Coriolanus almost slammed you into the wall. He had his fists on your skirt, your neat, smart little black pencil skirt, and he was scrunching it high on your hips. His body was hot against yours, and his wiry strength was a bruising grip on your thigh. Your hands were just as busy, frantically unbuckling his belt, trying to find the space to tug down his zipper.

“Coriolanus,” you gasped.

He was half-mad with rage, with something hungrier and full of desire. Your knee fell open as you were propped on the railing, and you lurched back and clutched wildly at the brass for balance. The careful slick of his hair was breaking free from the gel casing, and Coriolanus breathed heavily, a string of saliva snapping between his parted lips.

“There’s – the – cam-”

“No cameras,” he said in one breath. He leaned forward, and his lips ghosted on the shell of your ear, sending spikes across your skin and down your back. “I turned them off this morning.”

You moaned and felt the threatening rush tremble between your legs again. The pressure in your blood beat faster, harder, with excitement turned anew once more at the stimulus.

“So you knew I would come?” you panted as he stood firm between your bowed knees. “So you thought I would be – what – stupid?”

“Services stopped.”

Coriolanus’s breath was ragged as he snapped back to you. His thumb brushed your jawline, tilting your head up to meet his searing gaze. “No, I shouldn’t have said stupid. I knew you’d be reckless.”

The words hit you sharply, as sharply as the edge of his teeth grazing your throat. You would have laughed if it was still the time for incredulity. And then he was in you, your breath hitching as the weight of his body into your stomach pushed you against the elevator wall with each thrust. You saw the cameras in the corner at last, little black caps carefully snapped over the lens.

The world could be watching, if it had the eyes to look.

“How did you do it?”

Any of it.

His thumb smeared down your cheek, pulling your mouth into the space for a lopsided breath as you gasped out the words.

“Does it matter? I’m Head Gamemaster, aren’t I?”

Coriolanus kissed you again. You let your teeth tug at his lips this time, and the groan from his lungs was intoxicating.

He was tense and throbbing in you, and you had to lean into him, had to use him as a plinth of support in this precarious balance. Your blouse was stuck to your back in an awkward rumple of sweat, and your nipples ached untouched under your bra. His hands had come both to your thighs to pin you there on the railing, keep your hips stilled as he moved in you harder, harder still.

Your ankles have locked together against his against his back. You realized it only when the elevator jolted suddenly, and you gasped sharply, a heel sliding off and slapping to the floor.

“Services stopped.”

It was just the shaking of your bodies, but for a moment, you feared that someone had called for the elevator.

“Oh,” you whispered. You were angry at the thought of someone interrupting, and your teeth chattered at the realization. Chattered more at the stillness of Coriolanus in you that was leaving you full, full, stretched so you could barely manage it. Your hips were just heavy lead under his touch.

Coriolanus sucked his breath in, and you had to meet his eyes that for once matched his in wild fervor. You whimpered a surrender.

“Don’t stop…”

He pushed again and he was fucking you as far as he could go at this curled angle. By now, his hands were all of what kept you to the railing. The desire to squirm away at the weight had left you squirming as best you could. Any last strength you had in your body, nor your brain, had melted away.

It was rough and quick. Your cunt was greedy and you choked on the wail as you felt the desperate convulsing of your inner walls. That was it. Coriolanus was coming too, with each spurt hot and somehow making your legs shake even harder at the delicate sense of it. The elevator creaked faintly.

He was in you still when he lifted his face, those loose blonde curls now plastered to his forehead. With a moan from him and a full shudder from you, he pulled his cock away. Cream spattered onto the carpet. He was still holding you to the railing. Your ankles were still hooked at his thighs. You stayed a few seconds more in this silence with your back pressed to the metal wall.

“Services stopped.”

Coriolanus looked down, and stepped back. His mouth was torn up with your lipstick. He wiped the back of his hand against his face as if he could feel it and looked at the remnants. You slid down and shimmied your skirt back in place.

He swiped at his face a few moments more before sighing loudly and tugging his shirt back into his pants. As you reached down for your abandoned heel, he pushed another button on the elevator panel.

“Going down.”

You saw your microphone, the net of the speaker dented under someone’s errant foot. Coriolanus’s foot, most likely. You clenched it in your palm as you straightened again.

“You didn’t do this to help me,” you said slowly. “You wanted me to come to you. To show me what you can control.”

Coriolanus turned away from you, combing his blonde hair back with his fingers. “I don’t need to control you,” he said.

“But you do, don’t you? You want what you paid for. But the transactions are done.”

He scoffed. A lesser-mannered man would have spit on the ground after that sound. “So you want more money.”

“No. No, I mean it. I don’t want your money, I don’t need it. I never had.”

“That’s a lie,” Coriolanus said haughtily. You ground your teeth.

He was, unfortunately right. You had been too wild in your speech to catch it.

“So tell me,” Coriolanus continued, turning back to you, “what’s going to happen now? Will you quit, now that you see which pockets your salary truly comes from?”

His hands came around your head and locked you where you stood. He pressed his forehead to yours. You could taste his breath on the air as his pupils narrowed.

“What’s more important to you, little CapiTV page? Your career, or keeping your hands clean of me?”

Your thighs shook. You stared at his lips. You remembered every touch of them vividly. As if Coriolanus could feel where your eyes burned, he slipped into a low grin. The canines showed.

Part V: TBC

#divider by saradika #mdni banner by cafekitsune #tbosas #coryo x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coryo x you #daryafics #caveatcoryo

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