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blushnote · 5 years

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rich girl | m.

⟡ word count: 6,708. ⟡ genre: smut, a bit of angst if you squint. ⟡ contains: a blowjob, facefucking, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, shower sex, copious use of petnames, just a whole lot of sin.

summary: wonwoo likes to call you a rich girl, and you hate it because it’s true. in fact, you hate a lot of things: your friends, your parent’s attitude, the way your life is supposed to be perfect even though you’re miserable. not much makes you happy, except for a punk boy who you can’t even be with.

a/n: this is a reupload because for some reason tumblr wasn’t showing me my own posts? anyways, sorry for the wait!! enjoy hehe.

your parents don’t like wonwoo.

even better – they don’t like the fact that you like him.

wonwoo isn’t supposed to be someone you like. he’s kind of foul-mouthed, awfully conceited, and he probably makes deals with the devil in his spare time. he likes to hang around those dimly lit corners at night, just outside the local shops, puffing from a cigarette beneath the dusty street light and chuckling amongst his friends. they all hang out together. they’re very tightknit in the way that they only meet on the corner to smoke and laugh and then head their separate ways when it gets late enough.

honestly, you didn’t think you were going to like wonwoo either. most friday nights you go out for drinks with the daughters of your mom’s friends. she’s a business lady, very professional, makes good money, and has the politeness and etiquette of a true monarch. her friends mirror her every quality, and so do their daughters. you like them, even when they snap at you to sit straighter or give you unnecessarily stern glances while you swallow your alcohol in inhumane gulps. they’re great, but they give you a headache.

also, they’re the only friends you have, even if they’re not very good ones. they once left you to get home by yourself when you got too “drunk” for their liking. not wanting to soil their sophisticated reputations, they literally abandoned you after your wobbly trip to the bathroom to fix your makeup. you came back to an empty table. when you left the bar, this unknown man tried to take you by the arm, promising that there was a telephone just around the corner for you to make a call. your cellphone was dead anyways.

“what the fuck are you doing?”

there was a deep, displeased voice that echoed from the street corner as the mystery man tugged you away. you couldn’t help but stumble in your saint laurent heels. they didn’t add much height, yet you felt as though you were walking on stilts. quickly, you made eye contact with wonwoo. he stepped away from the pole and removed the cigarette from between his bubblegum lips, just before he adjusted the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. the air was cold, so he wore a beanie that pulled his hair back.

the man stuttered in response. he attempted to configure a convincing statement, but wonwoo cut him off.

“do you know him?” wonwoo asked you directly. his friends were silent as they crowded the corner, but they looked ready to pounce.

“n-not re-really, no.” you fought to respond sluggishly.

wonwoo then narrowed his eyes at the man who was digging his nails into your skin.

“do you know her?” the man countered. he sounded almost petulant.

“no,” wonwoo admitted impassively, “but i’m not an idiot, and i’ve hung around here long enough to see my fair share of fucking weirdos. go slink back to the other side of the street before i shove my cigarette past your eye socket and into your cranium.”

honestly, wonwoo’s words almost turned you completely sober. the man looked like he wanted to argue, but his pathetic type doesn’t usually put up a fight when their plans are directly thwarted. he released you, and melted away into the night like a sad, shrinking shadow.

“do you need to use my phone?” wonwoo was already revealing it from his pocket.

you nodded. you knew your mother would explode into fumes if you called her at this hour, so you dialled the local taxi service and decided to wait right outside the bar. you wanted to thank wonwoo for intervening when he did. he didn’t necessarily look like a bad person, but his tainted mouth and snarky expressions didn’t exactly shift him into the light.

“thanks,” you told him as you handed over his phone, “i-i appreciate what you dd-did.”

wonwoo made the effort to blow the smoke from his cigarette away from your face.

“it’s fine,” he shrugged, “happens all the time. figured i’d just stand here and be useful i guess.”

so there is a reason you’re always at this corner.

that’s what you wanted to say, but you were too shy, too foggy, to articulate any other acknowledgement apart from a tight-lipped smile. since then, you knew wonwoo would be someone you liked.

wonwoo liked to call you a rich girl. it bothered you, mostly because it’s true. you wore diamonds in your ears, pricey jewels on your fingers, dressed in luxury outfits and designer products. you lived a lavish life because your parents were well off, but it’s not like you tried to rub it in everyone’s face. in fact, you were quite modest, and you only wore the jewelry because your mother never stopped draping you in it. after your first encounter with wonwoo outside the bar, you greeted him again on the street upon exiting the floral shop.

he was alone, not even smoking a cigarette, instead sucking on a vibrant, cherry red lollipop. you could smell its sugary coating the second you stood in front of him.

“hey, rich girl.” he nodded. “how’s life treating you?”

the only reason you approached him was out of gratitude. you had already thanked him for his intervention that one night, but you wanted to thank him again now that you weren’t intoxicated and cloudy in the head. notably, your expression soured at his words.

“rich girl? that’s not my name.”

wonwoo looked you up and down skeptically. his eyes were a strong, earthly shade of brown behind his glasses, but in that afternoon sunlight, they flared up slightly, and the colour was more molasses-like. thick and sweet.

“are you joking?” he seemed like he wanted to laugh, and swirled the lollipop to the opposite corner of his mouth. “babygirl, those heels you’re wearing are more than my rent.”

you didn’t know why, but you were transiently overwhelmed with the urge to drop to your knees and let him fuck your mouth right there on the corner. was that too soon? oh well. you already thought it. remembering you were supposed to feel disrespected at his comment, you crossed your arms, though it only accented the jaded bracelet your friend bought you as a birthday gift.

“i’m going to pretend i didn’t hear anything you just said. i wanted to thank you for getting me out of that situation last week. i thought i should tell you again, now that i’m… well… sober, i guess i could say.”

you then swallowed tightly. “do you really stand there to stop creeps from taking advantage of people?”

wonwoo shrugged. he then tousled his hair, which had been flopping in multiple directions. it was on the longer side, and seemed to be the same colour as dark, silvery ashes, though the roots were pretty much black. his hair looked so soft and springy. you almost wanted to comb it down for him.

“i’m just at the right place at the right time.” he said.

what did that even mean? you simply accepted his response and pressed on.

“well, i wouldn’t mind repaying the favour one day. do you want a coffee or something?”

“no.” wonwoo replied sharply. “you could do me one better and slip me a couple hundred from your pretty bank account. i’m trying to get the local black tar heroin dealer off my back.”

you nearly choked.

“wha-what? are you… serious?”

wonwoo maintained his staid, emotionless expression, and you were really starting to believe that there was a black tar heroin dealer running rampant in the streets that might pop wonwoo if he didn’t pay him off. but then a gradual smile pulled up his lips, and you wanted to retract your entire offer.

“yes, it’s a joke. you’re too easy. the only drugs you’d find in this part of town is the ibuprofen for your grandma’s arthritis. you don’t get out much, do you, rich girl?”

you gaped widely at him.

“careful, baby,” he smirked, and he suddenly brought his hand out, raising your chin with his cold fingertips to close your mouth. “don’t breathe too much of this cheap air. it’s not filtered.”

in a bubbling, festering haze of anger, you snapped his hand away.

“for your information i—,”

abruptly, you heard your name echo from down the street. turning around, you watched your mother exit the floral shop, carrying a pale green wrapping of scarlet poinsettias. they were so huge that the petals almost covered her entire face. it wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t have picked a worse time to come looking for you, especially when she was cloaked in the thick warmth of her sable fur coat. you sighed deeply and faced wonwoo again. he’d lost his lollipop, attempting to spark up a cigarette instead.

“aren’t these just gorgeous?” your mother swooned, running her fingers over the butter-soft petals. “they certainly cost a pretty penny to get such an exquisite arrangement, but i couldn’t help myself!”

you wanted to sink straight into the earth. wonwoo was looking between you in pure amusement as he crammed his lighter inside a pocket on his jeans. your mother didn’t even seem to notice him until he took his first puff, the distinct potency of the smoke making her nose scrunch.

“a-and who’s this, dear?” she couldn’t even mask her discomfort as she inquired you about wonwoo. at that point, you hadn’t even known his name yet.

“wonwoo,” he introduced himself, “a new friend of your daughter.”

“oh, how lovely,” she nodded at him while forcing a crooked grin. “honey,” she then placed her hand on your shoulder and spoke closely into your ear, “your father is parked down the street. we need to leave soon and get these out of the cold, so please finish your conversation quickly.”

as soon as she slipped past you and began striding swiftly toward the car, you could already taste the muddled defeat on your tongue. if you weren’t protruding the mirage of a spoilt rich girl then, you certainly were now. at least he didn’t blow any smoke into her face, though that didn’t diminish the fact you were going to receive a lengthy lecture in the car.

“why would you say we’re friends?” you scolded wonwoo.

“because you don’t have any.” he responded matter-of-factly while tapping some ash off his cigarette.

“that’s not true! what do you even know about me anyways, apart from that i’m rich.” you made sure to incorporate in-air quotations.

wonwoo pushed back the silver tresses dancing in front of his glasses, embracing the cool, afternoon current against his face.

“not a lot,” he admitted, “you come for drinks every few fridays. sit at the table looking like you hate your life and all the people in it. then you leave with your phony little rich clique.”

“not to be rude, wonwoo—” you almost wanted to laugh; you came here to thank him. now that ship had completely sailed— “but you’re kind of a dick.”

he then had the nerve to roll his eyes. “you’d drop to your knees and suck mine in a second, babygirl. now didn’t your mother say you should hurry up and get in the car? the princess can’t be out of the palace i’m guessing, especially not to talk to assholes on street corners.”

what else could you do apart from swallow your own frustration, bite your lip, and brush past him? there was nothing. it was too bitter to stand outside anyways. a strengthening winter wind was beginning to pick up from the north, the sting making your eyes water. at the same time, your cheeks were hot metal. if no one were on that street, you certainly would have taken him right into your mouth and sucked him dry. he was ridiculous and cruel, but you loved the unhinged nature he unearthed in you. it was liberating in a sense.

you wondered what would become of your relationship.

“where did you say you were going again?”

you looked up from the porcelain dinner plate, in which you’d been picking at the last few crumbs of your wine reduction pineapple cake. it wasn’t your favourite dessert, though you always finished every meal out of respect for the family’s personal chef. you saw your father reach for his water glass. he took a long sip and eyed you over the candlelight and scarlet poinsettias. it was in a way that was completely and unabashedly suspicious.

“ester and i are going to the jewellers to get a custom necklace as aria’s christmas gift. i told you like five times already.”

of course, that was a gigantic lie. you and ester had already gotten the precious necklace last week, you just needed a reasonable excuse.

“and you’re coming straight home, correct?” his voice was stern and unnegotiable.

“i always do.”

“not always.” your mother chipped in as she cut a piece of the glazed cake with her fork. “you’re not going to see that one character, are you?” she always called people with less fortune characters, like they weren’t even considered to be real.

“who?” you acted clueless, and poured yourself more of the sugary, pink lemonade.

“you know who,” there was already a note of displeasure in her voice, “that boy from the corner. the one who smokes. i wasn’t very impressed by his actions.”

you started to squeeze the white cloth across your lap. “he’s trying to quit. i’ve persuaded him.”

“he won’t do it,” your father shook his head, “and he’s not right for you. i don’t want you near him.”

“and that’s why you’re coming straight home after the jewellers.” your mother continued, not allowing you the breadth to speak.

this family couldn’t get any more ridiculous, you were tempted to scream. instead, you pushed out your chair and collected the utensils sitting on your placemat. a maid passing by had scrambled to assist you, though you told her thoughtfully that you could take care of yourself. in actuality, it was the perfect time to get going, just as you could feel the anger warm your own blood to a boiling crimson. you threw on a long peacoat, a spritz belonging to a vanilla perfume, and your saint laurent opyum heels.

“i’ll be home soon!” you shouted down the marbled corridor, but it was only your own voice that echoed back to you.

your knees were beginning to lose feeling from being pressed against the sponge-like carpet of wonwoo’s bedroom, and they would probably ache like hell whenever you came to your feet again, but for the time being, you really didn’t care. your hands were braced against wonwoo’s knees as his hand tangled possessively through your hair, each of his tugs causing your scalp to burn and tingle. you were crying. you loved to be used by him, and he loved using you. especially the warm inside of your slick mouth.

“ff-fuck, that’s it, babygirl, j-just let me fuck your pr-pretty fuckin’ face.” quickly heeding his words, wonwoo bucked his hips up in a sudden snap, the head of his cock nuzzled deep against your throat.

consequently, you gagged, and there were glossy trails of your own saliva uncomfortably pooling down your chin. he bucked up again, his fingers clasping your hair even tighter. you were struggling to breath around him, white, cottony spots blurring your vision while he forced you to take him even further. you were clutching onto his knees with enough strength to bruise his pale skin. but hearing his voice, lined with lust, heavy and laboured, how it hitched when everything felt too good; you were addicted to it.

“you’re so good at this—,” wonwoo grunted through his teeth upon jamming your head down again, “m’gonna cum down your f-fuckin’ throat, baby. be a good girl n’ m-make sure you swallow a-all of me, huh?”

you learned that wonwoo was really filthy. he didn’t have a preference for where he came, though you had to regulate his carelessness. if any of your clothes even got one rip, one pulled up thread, or god forbid a stupid ejaculation stain, your mother would put your head on a mahogany plaque. wonwoo always made fun of you for belonging to a rich family, having to act like the town’s local sweetheart because one wise crack might cost your parents a lost business partner. but you knew he loved it.

the elegant daughter of a rich heir running around with the outlandish punk? he adored it.

eventually, you had to come up for breath or else you would’ve fainted between his thighs. the air gushed into your lungs and coldly filled your chest. a string of your spit was connected from wonwoo’s flushed, hard cock to your wet lips. you could hardly discern anything that surrounded you. the oxygen had yet to thoroughly circulate and the tears were creating a thick blur. wonwoo started to stroke himself while you prepared to take him once more. the empty void in your mouth was a horrible feeling.

“you look like a fucking mess.” wonwoo grinned as he noted that your body was shaking. “am i being too rough with you, babygirl? should i just jack myself off and cum all over your face instead?”

“n-no,” you suckled in a half-hearted breath, “i-i can do it.”

wonwoo smirked. “you still want it down your throat?”

you could see him clearly now. his cheeks were tinted pink, and his eyes were impossibly dark, glittering in anticipation. without thinking, you nodded eagerly, knowing this was what you wanted. he then tapped his cock against your swollen lips, to which you opened up again and calmly took him as deep as you could. he watched your eyes glister with more tears before he started thrusting up into your mouth. his fingers were gentle. they brushed the stray spindles from your face, now destroyed by tears and drool.

“i’m surprised your tears aren’t pure gold,” he laughed, “i guess you aren’t so special.” your spine tingled as his hand crept back through your hair. “m’gonna make you cry even harder, baby.”

his grip had turned to solid iron against your scalp. you got less than a sliver to brace yourself for his unrelenting treatment, in which he pushed you straight down on his cock and kept your face right where he wanted it. with his hand against the back of your head, wonwoo snapped his hips upward, feeling you immediately gag in response. then, he unleashed on you, using your mouth as a mere fucktoy, getting all his pleasure’s worth from you in each of his hard thrusts. everything was so overwhelming and rapid.

wonwoo couldn’t help the mantra of guttural, taunt curses. he started to moan even, his deep voice cracking the second he felt his sticky cum start to abundantly spurt. without a warning, you struggled slightly to accept and swallow it, though wonwoo was intent on keeping you flush to his pelvis until every drop was polished off. he was still thrusting shallowly into your mouth, and you could feel his length gradually begin to soften. his release was warm, and it was similar to cream sliding down your throat.

after he removed himself from your mouth, he titled up your head by the chin.

“did you swallow it all yet?”

you shook your head. quickly, the side of your hot cheek was met with wonwoo’s hand. he’d given you a timid slap, one that wasn’t meant to hurt, but stung gingerly.

“i wanna see you swallow, babygirl.” he purred. “be good, won’t you?”

your tears were dribbling uncontrollably as you fully swallowed his seed. god, your throat felt like it was on fire. each muscle in your jaw was burning up ardently. your knees were so numb you didn’t even think you could stand. there wasn’t enough time for wonwoo to return the favour. you were sure he could smell the thick scent of your arousal, especially as it ruined your underwear and shone on your inner thighs.

but you didn’t care. having him use you for the night was enough.

“are you alright?” wonwoo asked, getting himself back in his pants.

you didn’t respond, just gripped onto his knee tightly and attempted to stand. your opyum heels were still on, and you nearly broke an ankle as the blood rushed into your legs. wonwoo stood also. he stabilized you by holding your shoulders, at least for a good minute. pulling back your sleeve, you rid the tears that stained your face with a quick wipe from your hand. you were going to have to be very speedy getting back to the house, unless you wanted your father to send the swat team after you.

“god,” you sighed with a raspy, dying voice, “i hate my life.”

wonwoo scoffed at you lightly.

“what lie did you tell them this time?”

you muttered, “i was going to the jewellers.”

“that’s a long time to be at the jewellers.”

“i know that,” you snapped quickly in response.

more tears pushed at your ducts. you couldn’t believe how unhappy you were, even despite having every material thing you could ever want. sometimes that particular thought would just pummel you out of nowhere and you’d fight back the urge to cry.

wonwoo’s hand cupped the side of your face. his thumb stroked gently beneath your eye and he leaned in to kiss your mouth softly. his tongue tasted like a cherry lollipop. he really was trying to quit smoking.

“what are you gonna do, babygirl?” wonwoo hummed, pressing his forehead against yours as he continued to brush your cheek.

you held his waist. “i dunno,” you croaked, “my parents don’t like you. my dad doesn’t want me near you.”

“then don’t tell him i fucked your face, princess. it’s easy.”

there was a puff of meek laughter in your chest. for a few more minutes, you let wonwoo hold you. it was the most comfortable and happy you’d felt all day. you were running short on time. the first thing you’d do when you get home would be to run a hot shower and most likely finger yourself while you thought about wonwoo’s cock lodged deep down your throat. maybe one day you’d really snap and stuff all your belongings in a suitcase and come live with him in the shitty scope of town.

but for now, that seemed unattainable.

you’d have to come up with another lie as to why you just spent two hours at the jewellers.

“the earrings were the most magnificent things i’d ever seen! i’m going to wear them for my modelling gig next month, in paris of course. i’ll even text you guys some photos of them when i get home. they have these little opal centres that absolutely sparkle.”

just one more word. if you had to listen to aria babble one more word about her modelling gig or her stupid opal earrings or her all-expense paid trip to paris then you might have to throw your glass of chardonnay in her face. those were the only three things she talked about. then the month would change and she’d have another three things to drive into the mud, yet everyone at the table ate up her words like they were a slice of chocolate cake. you were starting to develop a headache.

“that’s wonderful, aria!” ester was gleaming as she readjusted the strap on her pearl-white dress. you could just tell she was dying to incorporate tales of her own wealth into the conversation. “i can’t wait to see your modelling pictures. that reminds me, i still have some old videos from when i went parasailing in bali. do you guys wanna see them?”

everyone started crowding around ester’s side of the table, attempting to view the footage she was pulling up on her phone screen. however, you didn’t budge, and continued to stare with a dull look in your eyes out the bar’s front window. through the glass, you could see wonwoo standing at the street lamp with his friends, swirling around another lollipop from cheek to cheek. you wondered if it was cherry. his last flavour had been green apple. you tasted it on his tongue when he’d fucked you in the backseat of his car.

but that was a week ago.

“don’t you want to see?” ester was smiling at you.

winding your fingers around your thin wine glass, you shrugged. “i’ll pass.”

“suit yourself.” ester replied, and started to play her first video.

you hated everything about this situation.

wonwoo was right. you really didn’t have any friends, and that became especially clear as you observed everyone at the opposite end of the table, adoring ester’s cute, ditsy little parasailing videos that her boyfriend took. you wished you liked the same things these girls did. your life would be one-hundred times more enjoyable if you just embraced your sumptuous blessings and shed a couple brain cells to be on the same level as them.

then again, you didn’t want to be exactly like them.

they left you to get home by yourself just because you drank too much. at a bar.

pressing the wine glass against your lips, you tilted your head back and easily gulped down the remaining chardonnay. it was a pleasant coolness that streamed down your throat, and you slammed the glass onto the table once it was emptied; even slouched back in your seat and didn’t bother patting your lipstick dry with a tissue. aria raised an eyebrow at you. she looked like she was itching to say something. you were in the mood for a challenge. if she was going to make a passive aggressive comment, it better be soon.

“i hope you have a designated driver.” she finally decided to chuckle.

you rolled your eyes. “shut up, aria.”

ester and her friends immediately looked up from the phone.

“excuse me?” aria replied while tucking a strand of her behind her ear. she seemed a bit baffled by your sudden disdain. “i don’t believe i’ve ever heard you speak like that.”

you were beyond a point of caring. “what are you gonna do then? tattletale on me? you’re such a fake.”

“that’s way out of line.” ester intervened, staring you down intensely. “why are you acting like this?”

“whatever.” you stood up from the chair and reached for your coin purse, revealing a wadded clump of cash that you slapped on the lacquered table. admittedly, the alcohol concocted with your frustration (not to mention being around wonwoo’s snide personality) had quite the effect on your behaviour. if you never had to see these girls again, it would be too soon. you couldn’t believe that you’d even went through the effort of buying aria a christmas present. the only thing she gifted you was a card with her signature on it.

like that was fucking useful.

“i think you need to leave.” ester announced like you weren’t already gathering your things.

“exactly.” you falsely commended her.

she probably had a pea-sized diamond in her skull instead of an actual brain. “i’m leaving now before you guys get the chance to ditch me. don’t worry about it though. i can actually walk myself out this time.”

if only you had a camera ready to capture their gobsmacked expressions. it would have been embarrassingly laughable. you flicked past them toward the door and pushed into the nighttime air, which was crisp and wonderfully cold to your warmed flesh. you felt powerful for summoning the courage to break ties with them, and yet, at the same time, you found that you were on the verge of tears. they deserved to have their toxic behaviour thrown back in their face. it was just that you felt a bit broken.

now you truthfully were alone. well – apart from wonwoo.

you approached him as he stood at the corner, still suckling on his lollipop. him and his friends were in the midst of a humorous conversation when you tapped on wonwoo’s hard shoulder. you always wondered what they spoke about. it always seemed more interesting than the lifeless talk you once endured inside the bar. he didn’t seem all that surprised to see you, though he did look with concern at the watery film across your eyes. you could smell the sweetness of his lollipop; it had to be strawberry.

“are you okay?” wonwoo asked, his breath forming wispy cotton against the dark sky.

you ignored his question. “i want to go back to your place.” you told him.

“now?” he raised his eyebrow.

“yes. now would be good. i’ve just been thinking, and i really want you to eat me out.”

you didn’t care if his friends overheard. apparently, wonwoo didn’t care either. he smirked at you and licked his lips, though there remained a bit of uncertainty in his eyes. you had yet to answer his initial question. from inside the bar, you knew those girls were staring at you, watching you talk to wonwoo.

they were definitely going to tattle to your parents.

your fingers clawed mercilessly over the bed, practically uprooting the linens tucked beneath the mattress as wonwoo kept your thighs tightly locked apart. everything felt so dense, so hot, like the universe was pushing down on your chest and igniting flame inside of your body. you lifted your head off his pillow, only capturing a mere glimpse of his pink tongue gliding past your slit, the muscle coated purely in your arousal. he started to fuck you with his tongue, digging it as deep as he could within your heat.

unabashedly, you moaned, extremely loud and most likely disturbing everyone in his apartment complex. everything about the technicality and purpose of his movements was pushing you toward a climax that would be unlike any other. he was so impatient to get a taste of you that he hadn’t even taken your skirt off, instead bunching the pleated material up against your stomach while your underwear were thrown to the floor. suddenly, you were gasping, and your head collapsed back to the pillow.

wonwoo had managed to wriggle his hand between your thighs. as he ran his tongue in hot, fervent licks against your needy clit, he pushed two fingers inside of you, scissoring you open.

“ffuh-fuck, wonwoo!” you wailed, your hand grasping at his soft hair to keep his tongue against you. “it fe-feels s-so … s-so fucking go-good!”

he’d been taking his sweet time in building up your climax. you allowed him to have his way with you, since he knew how to work your body as though he were magic. his fingers started to curl. it didn’t take him long before they were hitching up into that one golden spot, the one that caused the entire room to whirl. you could tell that he was smiling. he began to messily circle his tongue around your clit. the sensation of the warm, wet muscle pleasuring your most sensitive region was leaving you breathless.

“c’mon, babygirl,” wonwoo mumbled against your core, his fingers thrusting up heavily and abusing that spot inside of you, “you gonna let go and let me taste your cum? you’re fucking dripping all over the bed.”

there was a glimmer of drool leaking from the edge of your mouth. you were so blissed out and crammed with euphoria that you could hardly articulate a response. wonwoo wasn’t giving you much of a chance either. he started a brisk pace rubbing his tongue against your clit, and then he closed his plump lips around you to better flick it with the pink muscle. his bicep was probably burning as he slammed his fingers deep into your heat, making you squelch. your slick had thoroughly soaked the sheets beneath you.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you panted, arching your chest into the air, “i-it’s s-so much, w-wonwoo—m’gonna—nngh—m’gonna cc-cum!”

wonwoo kept your hips pressed firmly to the mattress with one arm as your pleasure exploded. the tears easily streamed down your flustered, glossy face as this extreme contraction passed through you. it was incredibly wet, too wet, and you knew exactly what had happened as wonwoo pulled out his glistening fingers and completely buried his face between your thighs. god, it was fucking embarrassing. you would have curled away from him if wonwoo wasn’t so persistent. he kept licking at you, hard and fast.

at that point, your tears were no longer tiny beads. the sensitivity had left your nerves completely raw, and you sobbed helplessly as wonwoo continued to eat you out. his tongue felt like it was lapping everywhere, impatient and hungry. you tried to pull him away by dishevelled hair, but he swatted your hand back and bit down softly on your swollen clit. before you even knew what was happening, wonwoo had somehow forced your body into another orgasm. his tongue was inside of you as the second wave hit.

“pl-please,” you whimpered in utter fragility, the mixture of pleasure and pain becoming too overwhelming as wonwoo attempted to lick you clean, “pl-please, wonwoo… i-it huh-hurts..”

he chuckled against your sore flesh warmly. “are you sure you’re done, baby? bet i could make you squirt again if i was real gentle.”

“i-i don’t want to talk about it…” you said shakily. honestly, you didn’t even know your body was capable of feeling that much stimulation and pleasure. it was cosmic.

“awe, don’t be embarrassed,” wonwoo hummed, “you have no idea how fucking hot that was.”

“i don’t want to know.” you sighed.

wonwoo scoffed innocuously. he pecked the inside of your thigh, then each hip bone, before he crawled overtop of you and let you taste your own sweetness off his tongue. you spent a few minutes idly making out, smearing saliva over each other’s flushed lips, running your hands up and down his broad, hard chest, leaving scarlet rivulets along his biceps. wonwoo began teasing his fingers against your slit again, and you gasped into the kiss as his finger sunk into you, slowly, deeply.

“what’s wrong?” wonwoo asked while pumping the digit at a gentle pace.

“what do you mean?” you squeaked, staring into his brown eyes tinged with his earlier concern.

“you know what i mean,” wonwoo hummed, “why were you about to cry outside the bar? what happened?”

“are you sure we should discuss this while you’re fingering me?”

“baby, just tell me.” wonwoo urged with a comforting tone in his voice. he started to massage his thumb over your clit, and your entire body jolted.

you sniffled. “i-i just, i— i kind of cut ties with my friends. a-and i’m glad i did it but now i’m just gonna be even more a-alone.”

“of course not,” wonwoo shook his head, “you have me.”

“are you sure?”

slight amusement and shock coloured wonwoo’s face. he pulled his hand away from your core and looked like he wanted to laugh. you couldn’t blame him, but you also couldn’t help your insecurity.

“i’m sure, baby.” he told you firmly. “i’ll always be here for you. i promise.”

you smiled up at him, feeling your heart start to soften.

“can we take a shower?” you then proposed. “i want to get these tears off my face before they dry.”

while wonwoo was busy getting the water running inside the bathroom, you noticed your phone start to glow and vibrate on his nightstand. it was your mother’s number on the screen. taking a long, slow breath, you flipped your phone upside down and ignored the call. it was a risky move, but it felt almost healing in a sense to turn away from the stress in your life. instead, you focused on what mattered in the moment.

wonwoo joined you in the shower, the water gliding in silk-like pathways around his lean muscle and smooth skin. he pushed back his wet hair, sparkling droplets sticking heavy to his eyelashes. he pressed you against the tiles, and their icy touch sent a shiver up your spine. in the midst of the steam and heat, he was kissing you again, suckling softly on your tongue and squeezing your breasts in his hands. his aching length, hard and heavy, brushed between your thighs, to which your palm started to glide up his shaft.

he smiled against your mouth, “you want my cock inside you, babygirl?”

the fire slowly rebuilt itself from the embers in your stomach.

“yes please.” you lilted innocently.

wonwoo decided to press your front against the glass wall instead of the tile. his lips were leaving drifting pecks up your shoulder blade, and he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. a rough, deep groan filled your ear as wonwoo rubbed his cock between your folds, allowing your arousal to coat him generously. however, you were yearning to feel how he filled you entirely, until you could feel him nestled right to the brink. wriggling your hips against him, it was your non-verbal cue for him to start sliding in.

he cupped your breasts in his hands, whispering into your ear, “how should i fuck you, baby? do you want it hard?”

as impatient as you were, there was something about the atmosphere that told you to prolong your intimacy. “n-no,” you mumbled as the fog swathed around you, “s-slow, i want to feel you.”

your moan was almost louder than the water spraying against the tiles when wonwoo started to push inside of you. once he was buried as far as could fit, he started to grind into you, extending his pace so that you could truly feel his every inch and vein. his fingers were massaging your chest, the round flesh almost like velvet to his touch. everything about your body was endearingly soft and warm. he loved it.

“does it feel good, babygirl?” wonwoo purred. he was situated at such a pleasurable depth inside you that you felt like complete gelatine. he thrust into you a little harder, but it was enough to make you cry.

“s-so good,” you stuttered, licking the water off your lips. “do i feel good t-too?”

wonwoo smirked. he moved his hips at a shallow pace. “mmhm. you’re so tight and warm around me, baby. feels so perfect. how pretty do you think your pussy would look with my cum dripping out of it? should we try it?”

you pushed yourself back against his pelvis, “fill me up, wonwoo, please.”

“of course,” he grinned, and slowly dipped a hand down your stomach until you felt him begin to rub soft circles into your clit.

“let’s see how much you can take, babygirl.”

you were exhausted. you were sore. but you felt safe. you made an audacious decision and decided to spend the night at wonwoo’s rather than going home, where you knew you’d be greeted by an equally displeased mother and father that aria had snitched to. it was the first time you’d gone to bed without wearing pyjamas that weren’t expensive, pink satin. you were clad in nothing but one of wonwoo’s old t-shirts. he tried to give you one that didn’t still carry the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

his arm was around your waist, your spine resting comfortably against his chest while you lay together beneath the bedsheets. the sheet that was stained in your arousal had been tossed in the laundry hamper. you knew wonwoo would never stop teasing you about it. anyways, life felt different at his apartment; in fact, it felt better, especially when wonwoo kissed your temple before shutting off the light. your wealth had never been a defining factor in your personality, but it did make you consistently miserable.

that night, it was just you and a boy, a boy who you were quite positively in love with. maybe he loved you too. you weren’t completely certain yet, and you didn’t want to rush anything; however, you felt fairly confident his heart was likewise when he buried his face into your neck and wished you goodnight in his low, sleepy voice.

whatever your parents had to say, you’d find out tomorrow morning.

right now, you weren’t the rich girl, but a happy girl, and that mattered more to you than anything else.

#wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo #svt smut #svt fanfic #seventeen imagines

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wevegottogetaway · 4 years

Text

I love you

First I love yous...do I need to say more? Anyway, please don’t hesitate to reach out for anything, whether that be comments, requests, feedback or just to have a chat! Happy reading xx

It’s been three days of utter pandemonium ripping through your brain in complete disarray. Three days of pent up stress storming through your mind as you ran like a headless chicken to try and find a handle on a situation that frankly, you didn’t give a rat’s ass about.

It all started when your boss had called you in his office, his signature tyrant-resting face on, solid frown drafting his features in a look of severity. Well, this can’t be good, you’d immediately thought once you took a hesitant seat across his desk. You’d hoped for a benign reason behind the sudden meeting, and that the scowl on his face was merely a residual of some other trouble that had absolutely nothing to do with you.

Your prayers had fallen on deaf ears however, as the summoning proved to be a twenty minutes angry diatribe about how one of your most recent client had expressed their wish to withdraw from their deal and de facto, the company. Though it hadn’t been your fault per se, your boss didn’t have any reservations about reminding you of your supposed responsibility to keep your clients sated and on the company’s leash. He’d given you three days to fix it after that. Three days to persuade the client not to pull out of the deal, or you risked some serious downgrading if not redundancy.

You’d called Harry for support the minute you got home and spent the whole evening brainstorming the craziest ideas to him. He’d listened patiently, holding your hand on the table as you both indulged in the Thai take-out he’d picked up on his way over. That first night, you’d barely slept as you laid in his strong arms, back to his chest. Your reeling mind had still been trying to conjure up any sort of plan that would help you out of this chaos; but for each switch of the glowing red digits on your alarm clock, your hopes had dwindled some.

You hadn’t known then, but Harry couldn’t find rest either as he spooned you against him. You two hadn’t been dating long, several months at best, but already your distress was unbearable to him and every bone in his body ached to do something to help you. This feeling of powerlessness was crawling out of his skin and swimming around like a shark amidst his prevalent thoughts of support, admiration and love. Because, while he’d shown you the first and conveyed the second countless times in the past, the third had yet to tumble out of his lips, despite the confession burning their flesh a bit stronger every day.

What really had had his mind reeling though, was knowing that maybe, just maybe, he had the power to make this situation go away; and for each switch of the glowing red digits on your alarm clock, his hopes grew some.

Your earlier utterance of the client’s name had been ringing through his mind in faint recognition, an itch starting to fester at his fingertips. Dialing a phone number was all it could take. A couple choice words and if he played his cards right, the deal would be back on the table. He’d known interfering was arguably a bad idea, and truthfully he’d always made a point of honor not to use his connections to serve ulterior motives (his or anyone else’s), but how was he supposed to do nothing when the person that caused you trouble was in fact a friend of a friend that might reevaluate their stance if he pitched in with a bit of charm and compelling words? How was he supposed to stay idle, watch you dissolve in an anxious mess, if he wasn’t as powerless as he thought?

So he didn’t.

He’d originally planned on keeping you in the loop, but you’d been gone by the time his forest green eyes had fluttered back to consciousness the next morning. After a quick shower, a large mug of the coffee you’d left for him before running back to work, and locking your apartment with the spare key you’d given him a couple weeks back, he’d pulled out his phone. Two minutes was all it took for his friend to pass him your client’s number and without hesitation, he’d launched the call and brought his phone to his ear.

It took a bit longer than a couple of minutes for that conversation to take effect, but eventually his words hit their target. After all, his lovely nature could pierce through the most robust walls and stubborn minds. He didn’t even have to put on the charm that much, instead drawing earnest sentiments about your impeccable skills and rambling about how there was no better person to keep their account safe in the business. He’d gnawed at his lips the whole time, desperate to pull through but still scared to fail you somehow. You’d already been let down by the client and your boss, you certainly didn’t need your boyfriend added to the list.

The call had ended with their promise to reassess and consider your undeniable abilities in the equation, yet the next day you were once again convoked to your boss’ office with a snarly bark of your name. Puzzlement washed over you as you speed-walked after him. Why was he still so resentful with you when you’d gotten the client to reenter the contract?

Another twenty minutes of intense scolding provided you with that answer. With a disdainful gaze puncturing your poise, your boss told you that while your job was no longer on the line, you’d been given a firm warning about using your boyfriend as negotiator for the company’s dealings.

How he knew when you yourself weren’t aware of the fact, you didn’t know. In retrospect, your talk with the client had been suspiciously easy for someone who’d made their will to ditch the company crystal clear. You’d merely laid out your arguments, expecting resistance and some pushing, but were only met with a squinted look and cautious acceptance. Now you know your case had already been pleaded once, by the man who was taking more and more space for himself inside the chambers of your heart.

You didn’t quite know how to feel about it; didn’t know if you should be mad or grateful. You were specifically stunned because you knew it was out of character for Harry. Your boyfriend was the most generous being you’d ever met, but humility was even more so a prevailing layer of his beautiful nature. You certainly didn’t expect it, didn’t wish for it to happen again because you were always adamant not to ever use anyone for their assets. Yet there was a tingling, a mixture of discomfort and gratefulness, sloshing in the pit of your stomach.

This whole thing was a mind-fuckery of emotions you were too tired to process.

What you did feel though, was the pure frustration at your boss’ hypocrisy. You both knew he didn’t really care how you’d gotten the deal back, just that you did, but his intolerable disposition wouldn’t allow him to applaud your efforts and move on.

Wanting to put this all mess behind you, you bit back the retorts that you craved to force down his throat, simply nodded through his chastising charade, and leaped to your feet as soon as the dismissing words left his stupid trap.

Now that you’re making your way inside your home, your nose is hit by a waft of delicious aromas traveling from the kitchen. Your mind is still fuzzy with every trouble and startling revelation that transpired in the past three days, but as your eyes settle on your apron-clad boyfriend, you take a moment to appreciate the sight of his soft figure stirring the content of what must be a pan on the gas. His back is facing you, but you can hear the gentle humming under his breath, as he hasn’t registered your arrival yet.

After another minute of whistling, he finally twists around and his eyes almost pop out of their socket when they find your timid stance a couple feet away. "Jesus, pet, didn’t know you were home yet," he chuckles softly before taking in your somewhat moony features. Your expression is hard to pinpoint, your delicate traits blank of any emotions yet your eyes have the same sparkle that greets him every morning and every night when he pulls you for a deep kiss in his warm embrace. "Everythin’ okay, love?"

The query snaps you out of your semblance of trance, your head looking down to the floor to gather your wits before you level your gaze back to his. "Yeah it is. Umm, my boss called me in again today," your bite your lip, not knowing how to navigate the conversation. In all honesty, you just want to be done with the whole thing, would rather spend an evening full of cuddles and potentially mind-blowing sex, but you know this ought to be acknowledged.

"Oh," his brows pull together with the same confusion you’d experienced when your boss ushered you to his office. "Did he thank you for the big save?"

"Not exactly," you clear your throat bracing yourself and Harry’s face tenses at the realization about where this is going. "My job is safe and I’m still working on the account," hie loosens up in relief, but your next words have him stiffen right back up in alarm. "But I got a warning for a certain someone’s involvement in the company’s operations. Apparently, my boyfriend called the client on my behalf and forgot to clue me in…"

Your voice is calm and doesn’t carry any reproachful tone, but Harry’s pulse is suddenly speeding with dread regardless. The fact that he could have lost you your jobs is the only thing registering in his frenzied mind, as he sets the dish towel from his shoulder down on the counter and steps closer to you. His eyes are bouncing off yours in a frantic back and forth, as he gulps his remorse down. Before you can appease him with reassuring words, and show your lack of anger, he launches in an apologetic rant, enclosing both your hands between his palms.

"M’so sorry, love. I didn’t mean to put you in a bad position. Fuck I just- I kept thinkin’ I could help since your client was a friend of a friend. And, the more I thought about it, the more I kept thinking 'I can’t do nothin’. Cause I hate seein’ you in pain an’ I really want to be here fo’ you and I know this was probably the wrong way to go about it, but damn y/n, I couldn’t stand doin’ nothing, m’sorry-"

"I love you."

The words come fast but distinct, airy but firm, not an ounce of doubt laced through their utterance. An eerie silence permeate the small space surrounding them, as Harry tries to find his own words back. It took three of them to steal all of his, but in his defense they were the ones he’d been dying to hear and to deliver himself. His eyes are wide, blinking in total surprise. He’d expected irritation, disappointment perhaps, maybe even anger, but definitely not the sweetest words he’s been keeping at the forefront of his mind. "I- you do?"

You still have that wondrous look on your face, but this time a bright smile enlivens your features, "I really do." You take your hands out of his grip to hold onto his wrists and pull him closer to you. You have to look up since he towers over you but you’ve always liked that about your relationship; the way he always seems to dwarf you in his embraces, whether because of his height or his bear-paw hands. "I mean, don’t that again," you let out a soft laugh, "but I know why you did it, and I love you for it."

Harry smiles rivals your own now, as your hands smooth up his arms to clasp at the nape of his neck, "plus, my boss is a jerk anyway so, who cares?" You pull him in a loving kiss then and his arms wrap themselves around your shoulders in a tight lock. His lips are as soft as ever between your own, and you detect the faintest taste of pepper and other exotic herbs lingering on their edge, from his cooking endeavors. He’s always been one to have a taste or two while he’s working, whether that be in the kitchen or other rooms…and regardless, you always like it when you get your share from his supple lips.

He feels slightly distracted against your mouth though, his technique not as ravishing as it usually is. and before you can wonder why, he’s pulling an inch away from your swollen lips, hurriedly whispering your tender confession back to you as though the words couldn’t be out of his mouth and into your heart fast enough, "I love you too, pet. So much." His hands are cajoling your face, thumbs drawing soothing circles across your cheeks, and his beaming smile is melting your heart in a goo of pleasure after all the strain it suffered in the past couple of days.

"Fuck, c’mere, don’t ever wanna stop kissing you," Harry mutters against your lips before diving in for a real mind-bending, soul-shaking, tantalizing kiss this time. Just like that, all your worries and sorrow evaporate into thin air, only to be replaced by an intoxicating pink loving brume. You two definitely spend the most perfect evening with lots of cuddles and endless mind-blowing lovemaking. Screw everything else.

➪ Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #creative writing #reader insert #Harry fic #harry styles fanfic #love #romance #first i love you

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jungshookz · 5 years

Note

Idk if this has been sent before but imagine like baker jin and forgetful y/n like she needs to get a cake for yoongi asap bc she forgot his bday and jin is completely okay w working at supersonic speed for this cute little teary eyed person who seems to be in big trouble

➺ pairing; kim seokjin x reader

➺ genre; baker!jin duh, fluffier than jin’s popular angel food cake!! jin and y/n are a couple of cuties :’)

➺ wordcount: 3.9k

➺ what to expect; “okay! that’s easy. a birthday cake is doable! see? nothing to get teary-eyed over, darling!”

➺ note; i’m not going to lie the one thing that motivated me to finALLy write this request was the phrase ‘cute little teary-eyed person’ i am soFT! I AM SOFT! okay bye i love baker!jin

»»————-　🍰　————-««

you’ve been sitting in your car for the past twenty minutes trying to remember what exactly it was that namjoon asked you to do for yoongi’s birthday

you know it wasn’t to get everyone to sign his birthday card because that was your job lasT year and also jungkook is in charge of that this year because last week he literally asked you to sign yoongi’s card

and it definitely wasn’t to decorate the venue because namjoon always takes care of that (because he likes things done a certain way and doesn’t trust anyone else with the important job of whEre to place the balloons)

and it also wasn’t to wrap his birthday gifts because according to jimin your wrapping skills are awful and you have the cutting skills of a toddler using those play scissors

it certainly wasn’t to pick yoongi up from his apartment because if that was your job then yoongi would be in the car with you right now (it’s hoseok’s job this year)

and taehyung was the one who curated the invite list aNd took care of the music playlist so you know that wasn’t your job either

so what… in the world… did namjoon ask you to do?

your memory has always been pretty shitty so you probably should’ve written it down

actually you dID technically write it down the day namjoon asked you to take care of it because you remember vividly using your pen and writing it on the back of your hand and then you remember namjoon scolding you and delving into a lecture about the dangers of ink poisoning

but then you washed your hands

and once it was wiped away from your hand it was wiped away from your memory

and that was two weeks ago

so now

here you are

in the parking lot of the venue (you guys are celebrating yoongi’s suRPRISE party at his favourite video game arcade) sitting in your car in complete silence hoping that whatever task you were supposed to complete will just naturally come to you

the party starts at 8 and it’s 7 right now so you still have an hour left to think

you came early to help namjoon set up but then the whole ‘i feel like i’m forgetting something’ thought creeped into your mind and now here you are

and you’re a little afraid to go in and ask namjoon about your mystery task because you feel like he’s going to skin you alive if he finds out that you have noT completed the mystery task

but then again he’s namjoon and namjoon wouldn’t hurt a fly!!!! he’s a sweetie pie!!!

whatever your task is it probably wasn’t that important because namjoon should know better than to send you off with completing something that is integral to the success of yoongi’s surprise party

“you have three seconds to tell me that you’re kidding before i actually lose it.” namjoon presses his lips together before exhaling slowly

okay

quick breakdown of what happened after you decided to leave the safety of your car

you came in

said hello to everyone

complimented jimin’s gift-wrapping skills

snuck one of the mini cheeseburger off the foods table

asked tae if he could add dancing queen on the playlist because no party is complete without some ABBA

snuck a mini corndog off the foods table

and then wandered over to a busy namjoon to say hi but before you could say hi namjoon asked you where ‘it’ was, to which you responded with “what… what is ‘it’?”

“by it, i mean the birthday cake. yoongi’s birthday cake. yoongi’s birthday cake that you were supposed to take care of this year because of the revolving system that i- y/n, i need you to say something and stOP staring at me like you don’t know what i’m talking about-“

“oh, the birthday cake!” you snap your fingers before putting your hands on your hips “god, thanks for clearing that up for me. i was literally scratching my head over it for like an hour.”

well there we go!

the mystery has been solved!!!

now you know what namjoon asked you to do for yoongi’s birthday

you were supposed to get his birthday cake!

…

…hollup

the smile immediately drops from your face

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GET YOONGI’S BIRTHDAY CAKE

“oh my- oh my goD-“ your eyes practically pop out of their sockets when it finally registers that you were supposed to order a custom birthday cake for yoongi and you definitely did noT order anything for yoongi

“y/n, i asked you to do one thing-!” namjoon groans and throws his hands up into the air

“i know, i know!!!!! it’s okay, i’ll fix this!” you reassure as you rummage through your purse for your car keys “what flavour should i get??? classic birthday cake?? lemon curd??”

“lem- leMON CUR- oh my GOD i want to hurl you into the middle of a busy intersection-“ namjoon feels like he’s about to have a stroke christ almiGHTY

LEMON CURD????

yoongi’s not turning EIGHTY

“lemon curd??” your voice is turning piTchy and that’s an indicator that you are PANICKING “was that a yes for lemon cur-“

you freeze in fear when namjoon suddenly reaches forward and squiSHes your face in between his hand

“shut up and listen to the words that are about to come out of my mouth.” he says lowly and you swallow thickly before nodding

you’re not sure if you like this namjoon

“a four layer cake. alternating layers of chocolate cake and confetti cake. light blue buttercream frosting in between the layers. dark blue buttercream frosting all around. black sprinkles around the cake - not the top, just around the cake, it’s crucial that there are no sprinkles on the top. in black buttercream frosting, ‘happy birthday yoongi’ in block letters.” he almost growls and you feel like your heart is about to fall out of your ass

if anything will teach you to nevEr forget anything again it’ll be this version of namjoon

he’s like bridezilla except instead of a bride he’s a self appointed party planner

“four layers. chocolate. confetti. light blue in between. dark blue all around. black sprinkles all around, not on top. happy birthday yoongi. block letters. black letters. block black letters??” you probably look like a crazy person muttering things to yourself as you huStle back to your car

namjoon said that if you don’t get back to the party with a custom birthday cake by the time the clock strikes 9:00 he’ll kill you and you beLIEVE him

since you’re not going to be there when the party starts jimin said he’ll come up with some buLLshit excuse about you running late so that yoongi doesn’t get too suspicious about your whereabouts

he mentioned that he didn’t really want a cake this year but all of you know how much yoongi loves cake

and you love seeing him make that ‘i’m pretending i’m surprised but in reality i knew this was going to happen all along’ face

it’s so cute!!

you slam the front door shut and hurry to buckle yourself in as you type ‘custom birthday cakes near me’ on google maps

it’s fine! you’ll be fine

you wiLL definitely be able to find some bakery to put together a suPER last minute custom birthday cake

more specifically, a four layer cake with alternating layers of chocolate cake and confetti cake slathered with blue buttercream frosting and covered with sprinkles around it (not on top! just around! very important!) and also it should say ‘happy birthday yoongi!’ and the writing should be in chunky letters using black buttercream frosting

“why do bakeries close so early???” you wonder out loud as you continue to scroll through the results

literally everything is closed

if there’s one thing you’ve learned from this it’s that bakers are noT night owls

c’mon come oN

you’ll take anything at this point

you nearly scream in joy when you see that there’s one bakery that a) specialises in custom cakes and b) is still open for another thirty minutes and c) is not that far from you!!!!

according to google the place called sweet kimfecjins

oh dear god

what the heLL kind of a name is that???

whA-

and it is far from you!!!! it’s a twenty minute drive away from you!!!

under these circumstances that’s not close at aLL

you need a place that’s at the most thirty seconds away from you (you are noT kidding you really need this cake right here right now)

what other options are there

well

there’s a mcdonald’s near you

maybe you can just buy a bunch of those apple pies and use the oreo mcflurries to glue them all together to buiLD a cake

sure, it’s literally the farthest thing from what namjoon told you to get, but it’s a cake!!!!!

…okay you can’t do that to yoongi

if you were presented with an apple-pie-mcflurry nightmare as a birthday cake you would be pretty bummed out

so this means one thing

sweet kimfecjins here we come

surprisingly enough you make it to the bakery in twelve minutes time without running any red lights oR running any pedestrians over

you did honk at a couple crossing the street but you made sure to shoot them an apologetic smile

they still flipped you off but the point is you made it to the bakery with like fifteen minutes left to spare until they close up for the night

and-

“oh- oh no- nonONoOnONONO-“ your eyes are as wide as saucers as you practically slam yourself up against the glass doors right as the (presumable) owner is flipping the sign to ‘closed’ “oh, please- please, google said that you’re not closing for like another fifteen minutes, please, you haVe to help me i nEED a cake-“

namjoon is going to have your head on a stick if you don’t get this cake so you are going to have to beg like you’ve never begged before

jin sighs to himself as he watches the clock tick tock tick tock

it’s been a slow day today

he had a couple people in this afternoon but they only bought like one strawberry turnover to share in between the two of them

who shaRES one single strawberry turnover???

psychopaths, that’s who

and also he had some tourists come in and they bought a box of his carrot cake cupcakes so that was pretty good

he also managed to convince them to buy another box of red velvet cupcakes >:-) it was actually pretty easy because he just had to flirt with the two girls and they immediately were like okAY more cupcakes won’t hurt

…what???

he has to make a living!!!

yoU would do the same if you had to make money

but other than that business has been a little slow

last week he had a bachelorette party cake request and he spent five hours moulding a penis out of fondant so that was pretty exciting

they even gave him a bonus tip because they said it looked very realistic

what can he say?? his hands are magical

but now he’s bored out of his mind and honestly he wouldn’t even mind if he got another request for a penis cake

he just wants to maKE something!!!

he made a couple cakes this morning and put them in the display cases hoping to lure people in to buy them but they’ve been untouched!! so he’s just going to pack up all the leftovers of the day and deliver it to the food bank

hopefully they’ll enjoy all his delicious treats.,.., that they’re getting for free.,,.., even though he would much rather prefer getting compensated for his hard work

do you SEE how beautifully braided the puff pastry is for his apple tarts???????

since no one seems to be buying baked goods at this hour jin decided to close up a little earlier tonight

he’s going to clean up a little bit and do some prepping for tomorrow (his secret to the best chocolate chip cookies is chilling the dough overnight) and then he’s going to pack up all the leftovers and deliver them and thEn he’s finally going to go home and maybe order some dinner or something

as he flips the sign to ‘closed’, he-

“jeSUS fuCJK-“ jin jumps thirty feet in the air when someone suddenly slams up against the glass doors

goD

“oh- oh no- nonONoOnONONO- oh, please- please, google said that you’re not closing for like another fifteen minutes, please, you haVe to help me i nEED a cake-“

thank god the doors are locked because whoever you are you seem INSANE

“i’m sorry, i’m closing up for the night!” jin replies and gives you a shrug “come back tomorrow! i open at 7am sharp-“ jin immediately stops talking when he notices your eyes starting to well up with tears

oh god

he didn’t mean to make you cry!!

why are you crying????

is 7am not early enough for you??

“i- um, i mean i guess i could open at 6:30 but to be honest i might pass out while frosting your cake that early because my beauty sleep is-“

“no, you don’t understand- it’s my friend’s birthday tonight a-and we’re throwing him a surprise party and i was supposed to get the cake for him because that was the task that namjoon- he’s another one of my friends - that he assigned to me but i- well, i wrote it down on my hand but then i washed my hands and then i kinda forgot about it but that was two weeks ago and now i have to get yoongi - that’s the birthday boy - i have to get him his special cake otherwise namjoon’s going to be so upset with me and-“ your mouth is running like a motor and jin can barely keep up with this story because you keep throwing in new details and also it’s hard to hear you through the glass

something something birthday cake something surprise party something bukjoon something something

okay

you know what

you made a fair point

he iS technically still open so he’ll let you in

(and also you’re…,,. kind of cute so there’s that)

a fat tear threatens to roll down your cheek as you continue to blubber and jin holds a finger up

you immediately shut up and jin offers you a smile before opening the door “i’ll help you if you stop crying.”

you nod quickly and reach up to wipe at your drippy eyes

your nose has gone a little pink and your eyes are glossy and jin can’t help but find that even moRe endearing

“now - what did you need?” jin asks calmly as he leads you towards the front counter

“a birthday cake.” you sniffle before clearing your throat

“okay! that’s easy. a birthday cake is doable!” jin claps his hands together after he makes his way behind the counter “see? nothing to get teary-eyed over, darling!”

okay woAh

he’s not sure where the pet-name came from

it just rolled off his tongue so naturally!!!

you hiccup and your nose twitches and jin feels his heart pit-a-pat in his chest

o boy

“but i- it has to be four layers and it has to be chocolate confetti chocolate confetti and then i need blue- light blue buttercream frosting in between the layers and… and i think dark blue buttercream around- or maybe it’s dark blue in between and light blue around-“ you start to ramble again and jin’s eyes widen

chRist

this birthday cake might not be that doable after all

usually he just has to write ‘happy birthday ____!’ on top of a cake and maybe make some pretty frosting roses on top and that’s it

“how about-“ jin interrupts you agAin with a gentle smile, “how about i get you a pen and paper and you can list out all the requirements for this special cake? in the meantime, i’ll heat up a cup of my homemade strawberry milk for you and- are you a fruit person or a chocolate person?”

“chocolate?” you pull a chair out from a table and drag it over so that you’re sitting right by the front counter “i like milk chocolate.”

“lucky for you, i use milk chocolate for my chocolate mousse cake. do you like whipped cream?” jin asks as he slides a notepad and pen over to you

you nod before offering him a shy smile

okay

so far so good

your cake actually isn’t that complicated! it just has a loT of different pieces that have to be put together

and it’s a good thing jin still has some pans of cake that he baked this morning (usually he bakes the cakes in the morning and then lets them rest for the night and then he frosts them the neXt morning so that it’s ready for his customers)

unfortunately he didn’t have any confetti cake so instead he replaced it with plain vanilla cake and then in the blue frosting he threw in a whole handful of sprinkles

and the buttercream frosting is easy to make because he makes them by the buCket so all he had to do was dump food dye in it

and he knows about your time limit so he’s working as quickly as possible

he really wants to strike up a conversation with you but a) he needs to focus and b) for some reason he can’t seem to turn his usual boyish charm on with you because you seem so… delicate?

and you seem to have calmed down from earlier

you’re still working through the chocolate mousse cake and-

jin’s lips press together in a poor attempt to suppress his smile when he notices whipped cream on the corner of your mouth

you seem to be enjoying the cake which is a good thing

“this whipped cream is like, really good-“ you look over at jin (you asked for his name when he first started putting the cake together and just like that the name of his bakery suddenly made sense) ((and now that you think about it it’s actually a pretty clever name so braVo to him!!)) “what brand is it from?”

“oh, it’s- i actually make my own whipped cream, so it’s my own recipe.” jin smiles proudly and stands up a little straighter

“what do you put in here that makes it so good??” you wonder out loud as you scrape some off the top of the cake before sucking it off your pointer finger

“it’s easy, i pretty much just-“ jin suddenly stops whipping the frosting before narrowing his eyes at you playfully “actually, that’s for me to know and for you to nEver find out. how do i know you’re not from some rival bakery??”

“-if i was from a rival bakery i think i’d probably be able to make this cake on my own. instead i came to you and started crying when you said you were closed for the night.” you raise a brow before narrowing your eyes baCk at jin

“touché.” jin snorts as he starts to pipe the message on the top of the cake “so, um-“ he clears his throat and glances over at you briefly “this yoongi - he’s your boyfriend, you said?”

“yoongi?” you laugh lightly before shaking your head, “no, no way. yoongi is not my boyfriend. god, that’d be…. nO, yoongi is not my boyfriend.” you wipe your mouth with a napkin before dropping it on the plate

“right, right- and namjoon is-“

“namjoon is dEFINitely not my boyfriend- i don’t have a boyfriend, so-“ you lean back against the chair as you watch jin slowly piping out yoongi’s name

“ah, i see, i see.” jin nods in understanding

a moment of silence goes by

…he doesn’t know how to continue this conversation

when did he get so awKWARd at flirting????

maybe if he tries to sell you a box of cupcakes like he did with those tourists he’ll become charming again

“do you have a- is there, like, a mrs sweet kimfecjins-“

…and it’s just hitting him that yoU seem to be just as awkward as him when it comes to subtle flirting

“well, if you play your cards right you might just end up with that title, darling.”

your cheeks immEDiately go bright red and jin can’t help but smirk to himself

he’s still got it

“thank you so much for doing this at the last minute, you’re a literal life saver-“ you gush as you dig through your purse for your wallet

there are approximately 18 minutes left until the clock strikes niNE so if you drive as crazily as you did when getting hEre then you should make it back to the party before namjoon gets the chance to bite your head off

“oh, you know what?” jin shakes his head as he makes sure the cake is secure in the box “you can just take the cake - i feel like you’ve been through enough, so this one’s on me.”

“what?? no, i can’t do that to you! it’s such a nice cake!! i can’t just take it-“

“how about-“ jin stops you before you can get into another one of your five minute rambles (you seem to do that a lot) “how about in return for the cake, you let me take you out on a date?”

you blink owlishly at him and jin beams when he sees colour rising to the apples of your cheeks once again

“you- you want to take me out on a date?”

“the journey to becoming mrs sweet kimfecjins has to start somEwhere-“ jin jokes lightly before shaking his head “if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, but i’m still going to give you the cake on the hous-“

“no, i want to!” you blurt out a little toO enthusiastically before clearing your throat and rEELing it way back “i mean- yeah, a date sounds nice… or whatever.”

“or whatever?” jin teases as he slides the box over to you “i wrote my cell number on the back of the receipt, so… text me, or whatever. let me know when you’re free and we can sort something out.”

good lord

jin seems to know the way to a woman’s stomach aND her heart

‘i scrape fresh vanilla beans into the whipped cream - that’s what makes it so yummy! there’s also another ingredient but i’ll tell you what it is on our date. see you soon, darling. -your favourite very super unbelievably handsome baker, jin’

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

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stones-x-bones · 3 years

Text

Just A Little Longer || Solo

CONTENT: Domestic abuse, Physical abuse, Head injury, Head trauma

Bex thumbed through the files quickly. The front door hadn’t been hard to unlock, but the security camera on the building would have most certainly caught her entering, which meant if she didn’t find anything here, that was it. This was her last ditch effort. She’d gone through her father’s entire study, looking for shit on what power they might have, what secret they were hiding. But they were lawyers, and they were thorough and they knew how to hide information they never wanted found. She’d scanned almost the entire house with the adder stone Morgan had let her borrow and nothing. There was nothing at the house, except old journals and records that could only give more questions than answers.

Her body sagged with an exhaustion that had clung to her, bones and all, since she’d exploded, for lack of a better world. The day was a blur for her. A presentation, the clicking of keys. Hushed voices as she looked out into the sea of faces, an electric buzzing. And then pain. Bone-shattering, teeth clenching, blood-curdling pain. And then the nothingness again.

The nothingness had stayed with her all the way here. Frantic hands dug through the drawers in her mother’s office. Her father’s had yielded nothing, again. So it had to be in here. They were lawyers, they kept records. They were lawyers. The had to have records.

Her eyes flicked to the doorway. She only had a little bit of time left, before her mother would be heading home. She needed to be home before her. This was it, this was her last ditch effort. If this didn’t work out-- well, she didn’t want to think about that. Involving the others was the next step, involving Nell. But Nell had so much going on and Bex had been so bad to her lately, she couldn’t do that for her.

But she could do this. And she’d told Mina she’d be careful.

Bex slammed another drawer shut. Nothing. Frustrated, she kicked out at it, feeling her foot connect with metal and instantly regretting it as the file cabinet rattled out of place. “Fuck!” she hissed. “Fuck, fuck,” falling to the floor, clutching her foot. Trying to suppress her groans of pain as she wriggled her shoe off, tossing it aside and-- noticing a strange crack in the wall behind the cabinet. It wasn’t in line with any of the other seams in the wall. Her heart pumped faster as she used her weight to shove the cabinet aside, fingers prying at the panel that was now present. It came loose easily and behind it, a safe. A tiny safe, with an electronic lock. Six numbers. Bex knew them without even having to guess. She knew them because they were the most important numbers in her mother’s life. 072121. She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or creeped out, that her 21st birthday was the code to this lock. It popped open and inside was simply...a folder. Just one folder. And two small coins.

The papers inside the folder were written in a strange language. The paper was old and aged, browning at the edges. The side of it was torn, as if it’d been ripped from a book or a journal. On the bottom, two signatures in rotted, brown ink. No...not ink. Bex’s fingers traced over the names. Odell Ochsenstein, Rupert Ochstenstein. And an empty line, just below them. Already dated. All ready for her signature. Bex turned the paper over and looked at what was underneath. Her parents’ birth certificates, and-- hers.

It said things she hated, things she didn’t want to think about. Her birth name, her parent’s listed below it. Rupert, Odell. Why did it look so strangely out of place? And why this one? Her parents had gotten her a new one, legally, from the state, that declared she was officially transitioned. Why would they need the original? It wasn’t legal anymore.

She didn’t have much time to contemplate over it, though, as she heard the front door rattling. It clicked open-- she’d forgotten to relock it. Scrambling, Bex shoved the folder into her coat and closed the safe, putting the panel back. She could move the cabinet back, though. Not without making too much noise. Footsteps came closer, down the front office, towards the back. Towards Bex.

Bex was bad at hiding. She crawled under the desk, stifling the small whimper of pain that tried to sneak out. Curled her legs up to her chest and waited. They were high-heeled clicks, stumbling and uneven. Her mother. Odell came into the backroom and didn’t notice the sideways cabinet in her drunken state. She collapsed into the chair and Bex flinched under the desk. She was close, so close. Too close.

And then she saw it. The shoe. It was sitting in just in front of the cabinet. But she couldn’t reach it, she couldn’t just--

Odell slammed something down on the desk. Bex flinched back. If she saw the shoe it was all over. The chair turned the opposite direction, and that was her chance. Bex’s hand reached out slowly, all she had to do was grab the shoe. Her hand trembled with its exhaustion, muscles straining. She was close, almost there--

Odell’s hand snagged Bex’s wrist. Bex froze and looked up, gaze slow, small. Terrified. Her mother’s eyes were sharp and she squeezed harder. Bex whimpered.

“I-I-I can explain,” she started out, as Odell looked down at her, gaze empty. “I was just-- I was l-looking for some files to w-work on while I was home s-sick.”

Her mother scooted back and yanked and Bex felt her arm tugging in its socket. She cried out, falling to the floor. Before she had a chance to gather herself, her mother was yanking her up. “You insolent child,” she growled, shoving Bex against the desk, grip tight on her wrist. “You disobeyed me again. I told you to stay. Put.” Bex wasn’t sure what happened next, or why, really. All she knew was that suddenly she was upside down on the desk, and the folder she’d grabbed fell out of her jacket. Papers splayed across the floor. Bex hit the ground on the other side of the desk, shoulder crunching against the ground, and wheezed in pain.

The folder, the folder, she needed to get the folder. Her hands scrambled for it, when a heeled foot came down on one. She screamed, it was the same hand Frank had crushed. The heel dug in and blood pooled. “I warned you,” Odell hissed quietly, leaning down close to Bex. “I warned you not to go digging into things.”

But Bex couldn’t just give up, she couldn’t. Mina was still waiting for her. And Morgan, and Nell. The folder was so close. She couldn’t just give up now. “I’m done,” she said, looking up at her mother, “I’m done being your tool.” She let out a pulse of magic-- it was weak and painful as it tore energy from her already tired muscles-- and knocked her mother back, watching her fall into some of the cabinets behind her. Bex grabbed the folder, blood smearing on the outside, and shoved the papers back inside. She struggled to sit up, to stand, legs like stiff icicles, refusing to bend without breaking. But she did, and she ran. She had to get the folder somewhere safe.

She burst out onto the street and spun around. Somewhere safe. Somewhere her mother wouldn’t look. Just long enough to get away and come back.

There. The dumpster. Bex ran into the alley and tossed the folder in, turned to leave and--

Felt her head slam against the side of it, thick and metal and heavy. It echoed. Her ears rang, louder and louder until sound was nothing but muffled grunts. She tried to move, dazed, the world spinning, like all those times she’d downed full bottles of vodka. She barely had time to blink and look up at her mother when her head was smashed against the dumpster again. And again, and again.

Eventually, she fell. Slumped on the ground. The uncontrollable anger in her mother’s eyes seared through the haze in Bex’s head. “I should’ve killed you the second I knew you were tainted,” Odell said, as she lifted Bex by her shirt, nails tearing fabric. “You were always so disappointing.” She dropped her and Bex fell to the ground in a slump.

A foot connected with her ribs. Again, again, again. Her stomach, her chest. It echoed in the empty alley and when it finally stopped, Bex stayed still. Maybe if she didn’t move, she’d be spared more pain.

Odell looked down on her, stumbling back and forth in her drunken haze, unaware, partially, of what she’d just done. “Stupid, fucking...just a little longer,” she muttered, slurred words, “just a little longer, then we can get rid of you. Get a new one. A better one.” She nodded to herself and started to walk off. “Just a little longer.”

But she was right. If Bex could just hold on, it would all be okay.

Just a little longer.

#solo #wickedswriting #just a little longer #head trauma tw #domestic abuse tw #odell

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rainoverthemountains · 4 years

Text

Siren Cash Story

Here’s a chapter of that Atypical siren Cash story (universe and characters belong to @itsladykit ) I was talking about earlier. I still can’t decide how I feel about it, or how anyone else will feel about it, but here it is. I’m posting it directly to tumblr because I have even less idea what to say about it on Ao3 than I usually do with new stories. Reader response will have a very strong influence on whether this one goes anywhere, because I like it, but I’m not entirely sure about sharing it with other people.

Summary-ish thing: Sex happens, problems happen, three supernatural beings are confused by each other’s views of babies, and Pup worries.

Smiling, Pup snuggles up against Cash. The siren has been unusually clingy tonight, going so far as to drag Pup off with him to Pup’s bed instead of returning to his pool or staying with the others, much to Rus’s consternation. Edge and Twist must have successfully distracted Rus, because Pup has now spent hours happily wrapped in the embrace of a very affectionate siren without any suspicious sex demons breaking in to separate them.

Cash’s bones line up so nicely with Pup’s, as does the powerful tail wrapped around them both. At Cash’s insistence, Pup’s clothes and Cash’s wrap are both long since discarded in a pile on the floor. They haven’t done anything except snuggle, but it’s been some very insistent snuggling, with Cash pulling Pup over to lay mostly on top of him quite a while ago and not moving since then. As nice as the snuggling is, Pup wouldn’t mind taking things a little further – and judging by whatever just popped into existence between Cash’s legs, he wouldn’t mind, either.

“wanna do something with that?” Pup teases, brushing his leg against it. Cash gasps, pushing hard into the pressure – with something that doesn’t feel much like one of the usual two options. Pup smiles. It’s not often Cash wants to play like that.

“what have you got down there?” The siren grabs his hand and pulls it down for a personal inspection of what’s clearly his rarely-seen cloaca. Pup laughs. “okay, okay, i get it, enough talking. i take it you’ve got some better ideas?”

Cash does have some better ideas, and so does Pup. A tentative brush of a finger against the opening has Cash gasping. A finger inside earns Pup a voiceless screech. “is this okay?” Cash has never reacted quite like this before, especially not to using his cloaca. He and Twist both say they’re just not usually that sensitive, which is why they never use them. But Cash is going insane, pressing Pup’s finger in as far as it will go. “cash?”

‘more,’ Cash manages to sign, before crushing Pup against his ribcage.

“more?” Pup asks, wanting to be sure he’s picking up on the right cues. On the one hand, it seems pretty obvious, but this is all moving really fast, and getting Cash this worked up usually takes more effort – and why the sudden desire to use his cloaca? Since learning how cocks work, Cash has gotten quite fond of using his own.

Cash grabbing Pup’s pubic symphysis provides some pretty clear clarification. Well, no need to ask Pup twice. Getting hard takes no time at all with Cash writhing against him, and if he had any more doubts about where this is going, Cash wipes them out pretty quickly by grabbing Pup’s cock and shoving it inside him.

That one takes a minute to get over. Cash is still silently keening when Pup comes back around from suddenly having his cock shoved inside a tight, warm opening. Thinking Cash might need a minute to get control of himself, Pup freezes, but Cash has other plans. The feeling of his pelvis being lifted up a few inches and dropped back down into Cash��s opening is more than a little stunning, but it gets the message across, so Pup starts to move. He probably should spare a few thoughts for what in the world is going on with Cash, but, well… their current activities are a little bit distracting.

They keep going for quite a while. Pup comes easily the first time, and a few times after that – Cash in this state is possibly the hottest thing he’s ever seen, so it isn’t exactly a challenge – but eventually he gets tired. Stopping is starting to sound really good right about now, but Cash still hasn’t finished. “cash?” But Cash just wraps his arms tighter around Pup’s back, thrusting as much as he can from below.

Pup keeps it up for one more round, but then he’s done. He’s really done. “cash? i’ve gotta take a break.” Cash just grinds against him, not even acknowledging that he’s heard him.

“cash. hey, cash! listen. i want to stop now.” But Cash just clings tighter, resuming the thrusting motion between them. What the hell? Cash wouldn’t keep trying to fuck after Pup wanted to stop. That’s not something he’d do. “cash!” Pup snaps, trying to wiggle away from the arms surrounding him. “i’m done. let go.” Cash just clings tighter. “let me go! this doesn’t feel good anymore. i’m done!” Cash hisses when Pup tries to get away from him. What the fuck is happening?

“There a problem in here?” Twist’s very welcome voice comes from the door. Cash turns and hisses at him, too, but that just earns a growl from Twist. “Nuh uh. None’a that, sweetheart. I c’n see yer in heat an’ stoppin’ feels awful, but ya can’t be actin’ like that. Lookit Pup. Yer scarin’ him.”

Cash does look at Pup, frowning in confusion… then his socket widens in horror and he scrambles out from under him, nearly sending Pup off the side of the bed. Too surprised to catch himself, Pup almost hits the floor, but fortunately Twist is close enough to save him from a very undignified landing. More undignified that he already is, that is. Nothing like being thrown off one of your boyfriends in the middle of sex and then caught by another one to really make a guy feel like he’s got his life together.

“thanks.”

Twist scoops Pup up and sits them both on the bed. “No problem, sweetheart. You doin’ alright?”

Talking doesn’t want to work too well yet, so Pup switches to sign. ‘yeah, i’m okay. we were having fun; he just wouldn’t stop. what’s going on?’

They both look at Cash, who has curled himself up into the tiniest possible ball in the farthest corner of the room. Twist’s stern look melts into one of sympathy. “Heat – or I’m pretty sure that’s what it is. Smells diff’rent in diff’rent species, but it sure smells like somethin’ in here, and he’s actin’ like he’s in heat. Ain’tcha, sweetheart?”

Cash whimpers, not much more than a tight rush of air from him, but they both know how to recognize his voiceless sounds by now. His cloaca is still manifested, the glow faintly visible through the tangle of bones and protective tail. He looks utterly miserable.

“cash?” Pup asks, finding his voice working better than a minute ago, which is good, because it’s hard to sign to someone with their face buried in their knees.

Cash just signs, “sorry” and curls into a tighter ball.

“it’s okay,” Pup tries, not really sure what to do, “i don’t think you meant to do it, and i’m not hurt. is twist right? are you in heat?”

Cash nods, not saying anything else. Twist doesn’t ask anything else, either, like they both think that’s that, but Pup thinks he’s entitled to a little more information after what just happened. “i really don’t know anything about heat. can you tell me about it?”

Cash raises his hands as if to sign, looks at them, then lowers them again, shrugging, which probably means he doesn’t know the words, or maybe that he can’t think well enough to put them together right now. Pup understands; he’s not terribly inclined to keep putting words together, either, and he’s not restricted to a language that he’s still trying to learn.

Possibly realizing that he hasn’t been terribly informative, Twist tries to fill in what he can. “Dunno much about sirens, but if they’re anything like dragons, he really needs ta get off right now.”

Pup arches a browbone. “tried that.”

Twist snorts. “Yeah, guess ya did. Problem is, I’m not sure he can with you.”

Pup’s browbone arches higher. “always could before.”

Twist waves off his skepticism. “Yeah, but heat’s different – at least if sirens ‘re like dragons. Hey, Cash, are sirens like dragons?”

‘give or take some brains and too big wings,’ Cash manages to sign, because of course he remembers how to insult Twist when he can’t think of the words for anything else.

“Yep, ‘cause yer skull’s just full a those,” Twist chuckles. “But what I mean is, are our heats the same? Do ya need another siren fer yours?”

Cash nods.

“Is that like need need, or does it just make it go better?” ‘need,’ Cash signs. ‘eggs.’ He waves at his lower abdomen.

Pup gasps. “eggs? as in, you could get pregnant?”

Cash shrugs.

Woah. That’s as good as a yes. Not that monsters of either gender doing that is unheard of, but Cash? He doesn’t seem like the parenting type. He’s also not acting like this is anything new. “have you had… eggs? before?”

Cash nods, looking surprisingly uninvested in that answer, considering what it is.

“wait, does that mean you have kids out there somewhere?”

Cash shrugs. He doesn’t know if he has kids?

“how do you not know?” Pup asks. Maybe that’s not the most sensitive way to ask it, but Cash has kids? And Cash doesn’t know if he has kids? What? ‘why would i?’ Cash signs.

“because… don’t people usually know that? i mean, i guess not everyone, but i’d think the person who… laid the eggs? would usually know.” Maybe Pup should shut up now. For all he knows, he’s walking right into a very sensitive topic, but Cash sure isn’t acting like he is. Pup might as well be asking how Rus ties his shoelaces, for all Cash seems to care.

“Pretty sure sirens ‘re more like fish than humans, far as havin’ kids goes,” Twist explains, patting the bed to try to invite Cash to come join them. Cash doesn’t budge, so Twist shrugs. “Just lay their eggs somewhere an’ leave ‘em. That right, Cash?”

Cash nods. ‘humans… keep them?” He only looks halfway sure of that.

“Yep, all the way till they’re grown, usually. Dragons, too, fer a while.” Twist’s face darkens for a moment, but he shakes it off. “Anyway, are ya sayin’ ya gotta get someone ta fertalize yer eggs ta get outta heat?”

‘don’t dragons?’ Cash asks, perplexed.

Twist shrugs. “Eh, kinda. Might hafta do it with another dragon, but I never tried with nobody else, neither, an’ I ain’t gonna start now. But nah, don’t gotta let any eggs catch unless I want to.”

Cash frowns, looking very confused – possibly for different reasons than Pup, who is also very confused. ‘why would you want to?’

“Some people just do. Lotsa reasons, I guess, but it’s never seemed like a good idea fer me, so I don’t.”

“wait,” Pup asks in dawning horror, “are you saying that you have to… lay eggs? get pregnant? something like that? when you go into heat, even though you don’t want to?”

Cash nods, not looking any more upset than he has since accepting that he didn’t hurt Pup. Pup, though, is devastated. “but that’s awful!”

Cash frowns in continuing confusion. ‘why?’ he signs.

“because…” the words close off in Pup’s throat. He looks to Twist, hoping the dragon will understand.

“I think Puppy’s upset ‘cause fer humans, bein’ pregnant when ya don’ wanna’s a big deal. ‘s a bad thing. Right, Puppy?”

Pup nods.

Cash still doesn’t look any less confused, though. ‘why?’

“Because… I dunno. Just is?” Which is about what Pup should expect, really, relying on a dragon to explain human problems to a siren. Does Twist even understand the problem, himself, or does he just understand that Pup’s worried? If neither of them see a reason to be upset, should Pup be, either? But neither of them want kids, and Twist can avoid it but Cash can’t, so how can they not see that as a problem?

“do you… not care if you have kids?” Pup tries.

Cash shakes his skull, looking relieved to finally be understood.

“you really don’t care? not as in, you’ll put up with it because you can’t do anything about it, but as in you really don’t care at all?”

Cash shrugs. ‘just happens. doesn’t matter.’

“okay.” What else can Pup say? It seems inconceivable that having kids could just be such a non-event in someone’s life that they just don’t care – but then, they said it was like with fish. Do fish care about laying eggs? Probably not much. But Cash isn’t a fish! But he said he doesn’t care, and it’s not like Pup knows what Cash thinks better than Cash does, so… grrr. Sometimes figuring these guys out is a lost cause. “so what do we need to do now?”

Cash huffs in annoyance, signs sharp. ‘i find a siren. get fucked. come home.’ He shifts uncomfortably.

“Yeah, an’ from what I walked in on, I’d you’d better find one pretty soon.” Twist scowls. “Shit, sweetheart, what’d you think you were doin’, gettin’ Pup ta fuck ya while yer in heat? You got any idea all the ways that coulda gone wrong?”

Cash looks away in shame, curling back up into the defensive ball that he’d just started to come out of.

“hey, no, it’s okay, nothing happened! i’m fine!” Pup rushes to reassure him, giving Twist a sideways glare that the dragon ignores. Way to go, Twist, going all overprotective dragon when Cash already feels like shit.

“Sure, darlin’, and I’m glad, but ya might not ‘a been. There’s a reason ya don’ ever see me around here when I’m in heat. It fucks with yer mind, and with a whole lotta insticts taking over, too, so ya can’t really count on remembrin’ who yer with or what ya can and can’t do with ‘em. Now, maybe sirens don’ get as rough when they fuck as dragons do, but I doubt it, and he still wasn’t lettin’ ya go, even if he didn’t mean no harm.”

“that’s not his fault,” Pup insists. “you just said heat fucks with your mind.”

“Yeah, which is why ya don’ let yerself end up in that position in the first place. How the hell’d that even happen?” Twist asks them both.

‘i-’ Cash starts, fumbling for the signs, before curling up with a whimper. ‘sorry’, he signs again, not even looking at Pup.

“hey.” Pup climbs off of Twist’s lap, ignoring Twist’s protests as he makes his way across the room to crouch down in front of Cash. “it’s okay.”

Cash shakes his skull.

“it is. look, i knew you weren’t acting right. i could have stopped us, too, but i didn’t, because…” Pup blushes, but makes himself keep going. Cash doesn’t need to carry around this much guilt. “because you were really, really hot like that.”

Twist snorts, crouching down beside them. “Bet he was. Wouldn’t mind seein’ it myself, but Cash, we really gotta getcha to the ocean. You ‘n Pup wanna try somethin’ some other time when yer in heat, we c’n probly work that out – I’d feel a whole lot better about if ya did it together with someone who’d have a easier time stoppin’ ya if ya got carried away. But Pup looks pretty worn out, an’ I c’n see yer havin’ ta work pretty hard ta hold yerself t’gether, so how ‘bout fer now I jus’ give you a ride ta the ocean?.”

Cash sighs. At least he doesn’t look quite so freaked out anymore. ‘let’s get it over with.’

“Great! Let’s head out. Know when you’ll wanna be picked back up?”

Cash shrugs. ‘a few days.’

“I’ll just fly over the place I leave ya a few times a day, then. Wouldn’t wanna miss ya. How ‘bout that rock we used ta like?”

Cash shrugs again, a faint shiver starting with the movement. Heat related? No one seems concerned, so probably. He doesn’t look entirely with it, either. Pup sure doesn’t want to send him out into the open ocean like that, but what’s he going to do, go find Cash another siren and bring him here?

“Hey, yer voice won’ be a problem, will it?” Twist asks.

Cash shakes his skull.

“i guess i’ll see you in a few days, then” Pup says, trying to stay upbeat. Cash leans over and taps him with a surprisingly sweet kiss, then climbs to his feet and walks out of the room.

Twist rises to follow Cash. “Forgot his wrap, but I guess he won’t need it fer too long, anyway.”

“will you look out for him?” Pup asks. The whole thing still seems really wrong to him, but it’s not like he worries when Twist goes into heat. Of course, Twist has his dragon friend, and the only way there would be any eggs involved is if Twist wanted there to be, and Pup knows perfectly well that there are things in the ocean that can hurt Cash, especially when he’s not at his best… so he worries.

Twist, though, just smiles reassuringly. “Course, darlin’, but he won’t need much lookin’ after. Heat ain’t a bad thing, ya just gotta know what yer doin’ with it. I’ll have our grumpy siren back home in no time, good as new.”

#undertale aus #lady kit's atypical #a little bit of dubcon #they didn't mean to #discussion of pregnancy and unconventional views thereof #dragon twist #siren cash #werewolf slim

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kookicat · 4 years

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The Price of Peace pt2

So I wrote a second part to this fic-

Full thing is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907364/chapters/71064504

The Morning After

He wakes slowly, swimming up from sleep like he’s climbing through slowly setting cement. It clings to him, and if he wasn’t in dire need of a piss and a drink, he’d give in, let it pull him back under because he hurts all over. He bites back a groan and focuses on his breathing, falling into the old exercises easily, until some of the pain eases. His face is the worst, the hairline fracture in his cheek throbbing like a bad tooth. In fact, it’s making the entire side of his face hurt and he lifts a shaky hand, feeling the heat and swelling and realises belatedly he should have iced it before he passed out. They have instant ice packs, somewhere, but he doesn’t feel up to hunting though three rooms to find them.

He drops the footrest on the recliner and sets his feet on the floor, bracing his ribs with his bad arm as he levers himself upright. Moving lights up his ribs and shoulder like he’s dropped a match in a box of fireworks; all bright flashes and pain burning along his nerves. The room spins violently and he closes his eyes, hanging onto the chair with all the strength he has left, because he’d rather shoot himself in the head than pass out and have one of the team find him. Probably in a puddle of piss too, he thinks sourly and lets out the unsteady breath he’s been holding.

The dizzy spell passes and he shuffles towards the bathroom, feeling three times his age. His knees ache with every step. He pees and moves over to the sink, washing his hands before turning on the little light and examining his battered face critically in the mirror. He’s looked worse, he’s sure, but he damn well can’t remember when. The skin over his cheekbone is black with bruising, puffy from the swelling that covers his whole eye socket. What isn’t bruised is pale and faintly clammy until he soaks a washcloth and wipes his face. He opens his mouth, carefully, feeling the click deep inside of his jaw he didn’t have before the fight, and runs a finger over his teeth.

Nothing seems to be wrong, but he knows he’s probably going to have to visit his dentist when he gets back home. It’s all part and parcel of the life, but sometimes- especially deep in the AM, when he’s hurting and exhausted and sleep is eluding him, he wishes he had a different job. Something that doesn’t leave him littered with bruises and other people’s blood. Something clean, but he knows he left any chance of that behind him a long time ago and there’s no use pining for things you can’t reclaim.

Someone has left a fresh hoodie and pair of sweatpants on the vanity and while he’s desperate for a shower, he knows he’s not quite steady enough to risk it for now. The thought of falling on his ass in the shower makes him wince for multiple reasons; he’d probably never live it down, for a start. The small gesture touches him though, brings a fleeting smile to his lips before he turns the light off and eases the door open.

Sophie is curled into a ball in the middle of the bed, eye mask firmly in place, blankets wrapped around her like a cocoon. She stirs as he passes the bed, shoving at the mask with one hand so she can squint at him. “Eliot?” she asks, sounding sleepy, confused, then sits up as the events come back to her, smoothing her hands over her hair to bring it to some kind of order. “How are you doing? Why are you up?”

He blinks at the rapid fire questions. “Yes, fine and needed to use the facilities,” he says dryly and hopes like hell it’s too dark for her to get a good look at him, because once she does, that lie is going to sink faster than a lead balloon.

She reaches for the lamp and switches it on, and he knows he’s blown. He curls his injured arm around his ribs as she runs her gaze over him, frowning. “You call this fine?” she asks, but there’s no anger in her words, just a tired sort of resignation that’s somehow almost worse. “Sit back down, I'll get you an ice pack and the pills the Doc gave you. "

He retreats to the recliner, grabbing a spare pillow off the bed and taking it with him. It hurts to lower himself back down and he bites the inside of his lip, holding a heartfelt groan inside. He folds the pillow and rests his bad arm on it, taking some of the strain off his shoulder which helps, then hits the button to raise the footrest and braces himself, twisting so he’s curled on his good side. The movement whites out the room for a long couple of seconds and when he blinks back to awareness, Sophie is standing next to him, hands full of supplies, eyes full of worry.

“I’m-” - fine, he starts to say, then closes his mouth because he’s pretty sure they both know it’s not even vaguely true. Spit pools in his mouth as the nausea from earlier comes back and he gulps, taking small breaths to settle his stomach, but it’s no good.

Sophie gets the trash can under his chin just in time as he retches, bringing up what little he has in his stomach. It fills him with agony; jolting his ribs, his shoulder, making his head throb so badly he wishes it would just fall off and put him out of his misery. If he had the breath, he’s pretty sure he’d be groaning right now. The worst of it passes and he flops back against the seat, utterly drained.

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely, swiping an unsteady hand over his mouth, probing his lip which is bleeding again. He presses the side of his thumb against it and lets his breathing settle.

“You did the same for me,” she says, and takes the trash can into the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth. “It’s about time I got to return the favour.”

He intercepts her hand as she tries to wipe his face, taking the cloth gently, because the thought of anyone touching him right now makes his stomach clench in a knot. “The bad clams,” he says faintly and wipes his mouth.

“You did try to warn me.” She shakes her head, holding back a laugh. “What do you need, Eliot?”

It’s stupid, after everything they’ve been through, but he feels awkward asking for stuff. “Can you grab my bag?” he asks, because he keeps a kit in there for just this situation.

“Of course.” She presses a bottle of Gatorade into his hands, along with the bottle of pills the doc gave him. He glances at the label; it’s a combined muscle relaxant and painkiller that he’s taken before. The full dose knocks him out, and that sounds like a blessing right about now.

His stomach rolls at the thought of drinking anything, but he knows that he needs the fluids and cracks the top on the bottle, swallowing a single mouthful to see if it’ll stay down. It makes him feel a little queasy, but there’s no sign it’s going to come back up, so he swallows another mouthful, then closes the cap, resting his head against the chair, knowing he needs food before he can take any pills.

“Here.” Sophie leans his bag on the arm of the chair, then reaches down to pick up the discarded blanket, shaking it out over his legs. Neither of them had bothered to change the room’s air con setting, and it’s chilly.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, and digs into the bag, pulling out a pack of plain crackers and a box of Zofran. He lets the bag slide to the floor and jams the bottle between his hip and the chair so he can open the box of Zofran, popping out a tablet. He swallows it with a sip of Gatorade, licking his lips. He needs food and sleep and the painkillers in equal measure so he tears open the wrapper around the crackers, pulling one out.

Chewing hurts, and he spends a fleeting second wishing he was home, with access to his freezer and the homemade soups he keeps stocked there. There’s a lemon chicken broth that would hit the spot right now, but he pushes the thought away and takes another bite of cracker, convincing himself it’s just as good. Once he’s swallowed the full thing, he fumbles open the box of painkillers and pops one out, washing it down with a mouthful of Gatorade that tastes more like chemicals than the fruit punch it claims to be.

Sophie is dozing on the sofa, hair in her face, body curled into a ball. It makes him smile, because it’s rare to see her with her guard down. They’re alike in that way, though she hides behind masks, slipping through personas with an ease that unnerves him occasionally. He hides his true self behind a carefully curated image, letting people see what they want, the hitter, the easy mark, letting them underrate him so he can get in close for the sucker punch. He’s let a lot of that go, since joining the team, but it’s so ingrained now it’s a conscious effort most of the time.

He yawns, putting an end to his mental rambling, and shifts, already feeling the drugs getting to work. There’s still a good couple of hours before morning, when he has to pick himself up, drive the mask back into place and be the Eliot they all need him to be; unflappable, untouchable. It’s a heavy mask to wear sometimes but it’s a weight that he’s well used to carrying now, and it’s one that gets lighter for every month he spends with the team. They can carry each other, fill the gaps. Together they’re whole, and that’s a damn comforting thought. It brings a smile to his lips as he closes his eyes and lets himself rest.

#the tap out job #leverage #eliot spencer #eliot whump #whump #episode tag #part two #sophie devereaux #hurt/comfort #friendship #hurt eliot spencer #eliot spencer whump

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angelliev · 4 years

Text

Lover Boy - JJ Maybank x OC - Part Ten - He Needs to Know

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: Rafe Cameron has made a shocking confession to Aria, who stings him with her venomous words, and now she must suffer from the consequences. Meanwhile, JJ shows Aria just who she belongs to.

Warnings: Smut, cursing, fighting, Rafe being Rafe, and I guess public sex?

A/N: Oh my god, I need myself some JJ. Writing this made me weak in the knees.🤤 Hope you guys enjoy and thank you for your support with the following, liking and especially the reblogging. (Not my GIF. Credits to the owner. I don’t own the show or the characters.)

Lover Boy Series Masterlist

The pogues. They are by far better than the kids at kook academy. I let the days pass by as I continue to go on many of their adventures and be with JJ. I feel like I’m on top of the world. I have these amazing friends and loving boyfriend. We’re all excited for Spring break that’ll be coming up in a couple of weeks. None of us know what we want to do yet, but I’m pretty sure we’ll have fun no matter what. Tonight, we’re planning on going to the outdoor movie the county is hosting. I’m waiting for the takeout to finish cooking, as of now. The pogues had all decided on having Chinese food during the movie. That’s when he walked in…

“Takeout for Rafe Cameron.” His voice echoed in my ears. I couldn’t even look at him without anger and hot steam spewing out of my ears. I try to hide myself behind a nearby magazine, not wanting to start an awkward conversation with him.

“Aria?” Satan fuck me in the ass. Why? I huff. “Hello, Rafe.” I mutter. “It’s been a while. How have you been?” He asked taking a seat next to me, much to my dismay. “What do you want Rafe?” I asked not wanting to beat around the bush. “I’ve been meaning to ask how Jennifer is doing.” This bitch.

“Like you care.” I muttered angrily. “Excuse me?” He asked slightly astonished. “I know what you did to her, so don’t act like you still care about her. You abused her and cheated on her with her best friend. She’s been gone for months, and now you want to ask me about her?” I look at him with pure hatred.

“What I did was wrong. It was mistake. I should’ve been a better boyfriend to her. I’m apologizing now. Doesn’t that count?” He slung his arm on the back of my chair, making me grimace. “If you’re only talking to me just to redeem yourself, you came to the wrong person.” I scoffed. “That’s not why I’m talking to you.” He denied. “Then why are you talking to me Rafe? What is so important you have to bother me?” I tap my feet anxiously, hoping the order would be ready soon.

“There’s something I wanted to get off my chest. I did like Jennifer at one point. I really did, but there was just something missing in our relationship, so I looked for that missing thing elsewhere. It then occurred to me that, perhaps I dated the wrong girl, and she was right in front of me all these years.” I can’t believe he has the nerve to be talking about Samantha being the right girl for him. I just roll my eyes and take a sip of my delicious mango coconut Boba tea. Hehe

“It’s always been you Aria.” Dafuq? Before I knew it, I’m choking on my Boba once again. Tapioca pearls in the back of my throat, tea shooting out through my nose, tears in my eyes, the whole nine yards. I gain concerned looks from nearby customers, employees, and Rafe. I grab some tissues from the box before spitting the tapioca pearls into the tissue. I decided to spare the people of having to see me launch tapioca pearls across the room. Why does this shit always happen to me?

“She’s fine. Just choked on her drink. Go back to enjoying your meal everyone.” Rafe smiles as he waves off the peering eyes. “Here you go miss.” The kind woman hands me the bags of food. “Thank you.” I quickly take the food before speed walking out of the restaurant, towards Sarah’s car, both embarrassed and confused. Kie and Sarah looks at me bewildered as I place the food in the passenger’s seat. “Aria! Wait! Talk to me!” He yells. “I have nothing to say to you!” “Will you just stop and listen to me?” He grabs my arm.

I don’t know what came over me when I smacked his hand away. I can hear the girls gasp in the car. “What the hell is wrong with you? You think that just because my sister is gone you can try to make a move on me? Did you really think I’d go out with you? After everything you’ve done to her? You put my sister through hell. Well news flash, I will never love you. And for your information, I’m already taken by someone who loves me more than you ever would.” I spit. I almost felt guilty when I saw the pain in his eyes and heartbreak, but then I remembered how he made Jennifer feel that way every day. It’s time he had a taste of his own medicine.

I slam the car door shut. Sarah shifts between gears, Rafe’s fists slam down on my window. “You’ll fucking regret this slut!” His voice can be heard as we speed off. “What happened in there?” Kie asked astonished. I kind of remain silent for a minute, while the two girls wait for an answer. “Rafe said that dating my sister was a mistake, that he should’ve been dating me all this time. That it’s always been me.” I mutter angrily. Their eyes nearly pop out of their sockets as they process what I just said. “I’m sorry on the behalf of my jackass brother.” Sarah apologizes still fazed.

“It’s fine. I’m not going to let him ruin our evening. Let’s just forget about it.” I continue to look out the window, embarrassed by the whole situation. I still can’t believe he had the nerve to say that, after everything he has done to my sister. I can’t even imagine myself with Rafe. I’d rather take a knife to my stomach, than to choose him over JJ. Do I even tell JJ? He’d go crazy. Probably do something stupid, yet I’d hate to lie to him.

We arrive at the park where they’re about to start the movie. I see the boys set up our stuff near a tree, a little ways from the crowd. I see JJ smile when he sees my presence. I couldn’t help but return it. He approaches ready to say something, but I don’t give the chance when I place my lips on his in a sweet kiss. This seemed to take him by surprise, but that didn’t stop him from returning the kiss.

“Get a room!” John B yelled before tossing a fortune cookie at us. I swear John B is the ultimate cockblocker. JJ pulls back, his cheeks dusted slightly pink. “What was that for?” He asked with a cheeky smile. “I just love you.” I play with the ends of his hair. “Awe, I love you too babe.” He pecks my lips. “Everything okay?” He asked concerned. “Yeah, just Rafe being Rafe.” I roll my eyes. “What the hell did he do to you? I swear to god I’m gonna,” I shut him up with another kiss, after seeing the fire rage in his eyes. “Easy tiger. He just said something stupid and meaningless.”

“What did he say?” His eyes are desperate for an answer. I sigh. “He said he should’ve been dating me instead of my sister this whole time.” JJ’s jaw clenched at the words. “I rejected him, which seemed to really piss him off.” I roll my eyes. “Good. Let him be.” His lips find mine in a more possessive kiss. “Alright lover boy. C’mon the movie’s starting.” I lead him to our blanket against the tree. There he wraps me up in his arms, where I relax as the movie plays.

The movie goes on, still holding everyone’s attention, well except JJ’s. He grows bored by the movie. He begins to trail his lips down my neck seductively, making me giggle, when he starts nibbling on my ticklish spot. “What are you up to?” I asked, trying to concentrate on the movie. “Babygirl I’m cold.” He smiles mischievously against my skin. His hands makes his way under the blanket. “Thought you might warm me up.” His hot breath against my ear makes the warmth in my southern region grow. He unbuttons my jeans, before his hand cups my cloth covered crotch, making me whimper.

“Shh, we don’t want any peering eyes, unless you want to give everyone a show. I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you dirty girl?” It took everything in me not moan right there for everyone to hear. The whole idea of us being caught at any moment only seemed to turn me on even more. His long fingers easily slip through my warm velvet silky folds. I can feel the coolness of his rings brush against my walls, definitely glistening as he thrusts them in and out of me. Tears pool in my eyes at the immense pleasure I began to experience when he curled his fingers, never failing to brush against my g-spot. “God, you look so sweet with that flushed face, glossy eyes and wet lips. Those pretty lips of yours would look amazing around my cock.” I bite my lip, suppressing a moan.

“I bet Rafe can’t make you feel this good. He wishes he could fuck you like me. He wishes he can be in my place. Maybe I should invite him over one day. That way he can watch as I fuck you hard into the bed. That way he can see the way your pussy grips onto my dick perfectly. I want him to hear you moaning and screaming my name to the top of your lungs. I want him to know your mine when he sees my cum gushing out of you. And I won’t even give him the chance to touch or fuck you the way I do.” I felt the familiar coil in my stomach begin to form. “He needs to know that I’m the one who popped your cherry. He needs to know that your flower only opens up for me. He needs to know that I was your first everything. That I was the first one to kiss your luscious lips, the first one to make love to you, the first one you’ve fallen in love with. He’ll hate the idea knowing that whenever someone asks you about one of your first experiences, you’ll always be thinking of me first. It would kill him to know that you’ll never forget me. That I’m always on your mind. That I’m always in your body. That I’m always a part of your soul. And most importantly, he needs to know that I love you with a burning passion.” His words melt my heart. “That’s right babygirl. Cum for me.” He says in a hushed tone, before placing his hand on my mouth. My eyes roll to the back of my head and I bite my tongue as sinful whimpers escaped pass my lips.

His fingers and rings glisten in the moonlight. He forces my lips to open, before inserting his fingers into my mouth for me to taste myself. He uses him other hand to pull down his pants and boxers, his member springs out poking me. Before I have time to say anything, he sinks myself down on his throbbing erection. I was expecting him to move, but instead he just sat there content with the blissful warm state we were in. “What are you doing?” I asked confused as to why he’s not erratically thrusting into me like usual. “I told you I was cold. Thought you could keep me warm.” He smirks before laying one last kiss on my shoulder, before turning his attention back onto the movie, as if nothing had happened. My body wanted more. “Let’s get out of here.” I suggest. “But we’ll miss the movie.” He says innocently. “Please, I want you.” I plead, earning a smirk from him.

Moments later we’re in the back of John B’s van in the empty parking lot. Kissing ferociously as he pounds into me, bodies rocking together like waves. The van moves with us and our hot breaths fog the windows. Our lustrous moans, skin slapping and sweet whispers are the only things that can be heard.

Lurking in the darkness, were peering eyes full of rage watching their every move. Rafe Cameron had heard everything. A dagger went through his heart with every word that left JJ’s mouth, knowing that everything he had said was true. The angry young adult marched his way back to the Jeep, slamming the door shut on his way in. “Damn, who knew that Aria Prescott had a thing for the notorious pogue king?” Topper commented. “Aria Prescott the pogue slut. Girls like her will open her legs for any dirty pogue. Especially JJ Maybank.” Said Kelce. Rafe was shaking out of anger. “Let’s go Topper. We have a couple more stops to make.” Rafe says sinisterly.

Later…

The cool night air breezes past our bodies, as I sit comfortably on the back of JJ’s motorcycle, my arms wrapped around his body. I’ll never grow tired of these bike rides. He stops by my house, out of sight. I reluctantly get off the bike, before removing the helmet. My hands gently grab a hold of his face as I pull him in for a passionate loving kiss, which he gladly returns, pulling flush against his body. “Goodnight JJ. I love you.” I say after pulling away. “I love you too.” He pecks my cheek. “Sweet dreams babygirl.” He never fails to make me blush. “Drive home safe lover boy.” I blow him a kiss, and he shoots me a wink. He stays there until I reach my doorstep, before driving into the night.

I close the door behind me. I couldn’t find a way to wipe the smile of my blushing face. I was caught in a daydream as I walked towards my room. I hadn’t even noticed my father’s office door was open. “We need to talk.” His voice pulled me out of my dreamy state, startling me. “Sit down.” His tone is serious. I nervously pull out the chair before taking a seat. My father’s serious eyes never left me. His burning gaze begins to intimidate me. “I don’t know what has happened to you Aria. You were always such a good girl. You never disappointed me. You were pure, obedient and respectful. The outer banks have tainted you. Ever since we moved here, I wondered what could have caused you to act out in such rebellious behavior. Now I finally have my answer.” He takes a sip of drink.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, voice laced in fear. He doesn’t answer. He opens his drawer pulling out a yellow envelope before tossing it to me. My shaky hands reach into the envelope, grasping its contents. I pull out a note that says, “Thought you should know who your daughter has been seeing lately.” I pull out the photos. My heart sinks down to my stomach when I see them. Pictures of JJ and I. Naked in the back of a van, completely exposed and connected in every possible way. Our lips crashed together. Eyes full of sinful lust and everlasting love.

I couldn’t find the strength to form any words as I stared at the pornographic photos. For a moment I forgot how to breath. “You disgust me Aria. I’m ashamed to call you my daughter.” His venomous words shoot me. “Please let me explain.” I look up at him with desperate eyes. “Oh, do please explain to me as to why you’re having sex with JJ Maybank, of all fucking people. I can’t believe you fucked someone like him. Do you think I want to see my daughter with a dirty pogue?!” “You don’t even know him!” I protest. “He’s a fucking pogue Aria! I don’t need to know him to know what he is. He’s a troublemaker. A hustler. A thief. A heartbreaker. He’s just like his father!” His words make me angry.

“He is nothing like his father! JJ is so much more than that!” I defend him. “And how would you know that?” My father challenged. “Because I love him!” I confess. My dad shakes his head. “You’re too young to love him Aria! You don’t know what love is!” “Yes I do! We taught each other how to love! You don’t know anything about our love!” “You stupid fucking girl. He’s just playing you! He doesn’t love you; he loves your money and the sex is just a bonus!”

“That’s not true! It’s so much more than sex! We laugh together, cry together, play together and so much more. We’re soulmates!” I declare. My dad scoffs. “So, what was your plan? Get married to him, let him knock you up and have his kids? Is that really the kind of future you want for yourself?” “I’d more than happy to carry his children! He’s the love of my life and I plan on being with him for all eternity!” I yell.

“Well get used to disappointment, because you are never seeing that boy again. Not as long I’m alive! You’ll be cutting him off completely and not even saying goodbye!” He demands. “Like hell I will! I’m not just going to leave him! You can’t make me!” I protest, my heart beats fast. My father grabs me by the arm before dragging me to my room. I thrash and hit with all my might. I throw myself to the floor. “For god’s sake! Stop fighting me!” He yells before throwing me into the wall of my bedroom, earning a painful groan from me. He slams the door shut. The click of the lock echoes through my ears. My fist pound on the door repeatedly as I scream. “Open this fucking door right now! You can’t do this! You can’t hold me hostage!” He ignores my screams and pounding on the door. He ignores the sobs erupting from me.

I sit there in my own pool of tears as I sat there trapped in my room. I pinch myself, hoping that this was all just a nightmare. That I’d be waking up soon, preferably in JJ’s arms. What I give to see him right now. I wish I just stayed on the back of his bike. I wish he could hold me right now and tell me everything’s okay. I wish he was here to kiss my tears away. “JJ…” I softly whisper to myself, clutching onto one of the many pictures of us. In this one, he holds me close in his big arms as he kisses me so lovingly. I let the memory cloud my mind. I let myself imagine that day, instead of remembering where I am now.

#jj maybank smut #jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x oc #obx netflix #lana del rey

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Dadster #2 (Rules for Dating My Sons)

Notes: Couldn't resist adding on to it a little for Father's day! Tossing in some spicyhoney for flavor, come on, like I can resist?

Tags: Pre-Spicyhoney, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Found Family

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Sequel to: Dadster

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

"hey, pop, can you hand me the other spanner?"

Gaster looked up from the formula that was currently blurring before his eyes. There was an error in it somewhere and yet, the more he stared at the paper, the more the numbers floated in front of his vision defiantly.

A break was in order and this was a good excuse for one. He stood, pressing both hands into the cramped small of his back with a groan, then made his way to the other side of the lab. There was a hulking dropcloth-covered bulk in the furthest corner and around the backside, a skinny pair of legs poked out from under it. A tray was lying on the floor close by, tools lined up neatly, and Gaster crouched, considering them. A least three of them were spanners.

“Which one?” Gaster asked and when there wasn’t a reply, he sent two of his conjured hands beneath the…ah. The vehicle? He supposed that designation would do for now, deathtrap was likely closer, and he resigned himself to plenty of worries if and when Stretch got it working. He signed his question again beneath the troublesome thing and this time an answer floated out.

“three-eighths—” there was a loud clunking sound. “shit, no, seven-sixteenths.”

“Language,” Gaster said teasingly, even as he put the spanner into the grubby hand that appeared.

That hand vanished immediately, and scrabbling noises followed. “c’mon, pop, don’t you start. blue already has me by the balls, i don’t need you giving ‘em a squeeze.”

“I’ll thank you to spare me that mental imagery,” Gaster said dryly. But he didn’t bother to scold; Stretch was more engineer than scientist and there was a longstanding tradition of a certain amount of verbal vulgarity in that particular trade.

There was another clunking sound followed by an appropriately irritated curse. “sorry, sorry, this fu-friggin thing is stuck good.”

The loud bang of metal hitting metal was also traditional and Gaster shook his head. “Let me get you a lubricant, it may help.”

He ignored his son’s snicker, “sure, let’s lube it up, get it into a slippery situation, might be my saving grease.”

Gaster only shook his head, suppressing his own smile. To hear Stretch making puns and laughing warmed his soul, evaporating his frustrations over that silly equation. It didn’t seem that long ago that Stretch spoke only in biting sarcasm, mocking humor that never reached his eye lights. Little by little that tight shielding flaked away, cautiously revealing the gentle, vulnerable soul hidden beneath it and Gaster might tease, but he would never, ever do anything to take away Stretch’s little amusements.

Time and patience was all Gaster had on his side when it came to these boys, his boys. He should have been their father, wished fiercely that he could have been and spared them all the pain of their pasts. Lacking that, he’d do what he could and if a silly, vulgar pun helped, he’d listen to each and every one.

A light knock on the door halted him before he reached the cupboards. He paused, considering, then decided the lubricant could wait a moment.

"Come in," Gaster called. He already knew who it was, the only one of his boys who would ever knock.

Out of all of them, Edge was the one who resisted his overtures the most. Gaster didn't press, allowing him to find his own way and only hovered in the background, offering what meager encouragement that the thick armor of Edge’s pride would allow.

He stood in the doorway now, not quite passing the threshold. He couldn’t have been home for long, Edge’s sentry shift lasted well into the afternoon, but he’d taken the time to change out of his uniform and into a plain black t-shirt and jeans. Despite the more casual clothing, his speech was always formal, almost stilted, "Gaster, I was hoping to speak with you."

Edge was also the only one of the children who unironically called him by name. It was a step up, in a way. At least Edge stopped calling him 'sir'.

"Of course,” Gaster gestured to the chairs by the desk, settling into his own. “What can I do for you?"

Even sitting, Edge’s spine was ramrod straight and he folded his gloved hands into his lap as he said, bluntly. "It's about Stretch."

The silence from the far corner of the room was telling and Gaster very much hoped he wouldn't regret saying, "What about him?"

"It's just--" To Gaster’s astonishment, Edge faltered, looking down. There was none of his normal arrogant confidence on his twisting face and his hands knotted into his lap as he struggled for words. “He…that is…”

"Yes, I think you should ask him out," Gaster said baldly.

Bright crimson magic flooded Edge's face, settling high on his sharp cheekbones. When they’d first come to this world, Gaster had been privately worried for Edge and Red; their physiology was different than the other brothers and it was not an exaggeration to call their appearance fearsome. Never had he been more grateful for Asgore’s kindness than in those early days of their arrival when he not only agreed to allow Edge to join the guard, but introduced him personally around the Underground, particularly in Snowdin where Edge was stationed. As Gaster understood it, Edge was quite popular with the children there and protective as well.

The pride in his soul as he watched Edge slowly flourish was only diminished by one last concern and today it seemed to be coming to a head.

"I couldn’t,” Edge blurted. He did not fidget, but his crimson eye lights darted around. “I’ve always been grateful for your hospitality and—"

"You could," Gaster interrupted calmly. He left aside the comment about hospitality, pushed aside the faint frustration that came with it, "And I would approve. Stretch is a charming young man and handsome as well.”

One who did not lack for suitors and they both knew it. Stretch never lacked for company, although he’d never gone on more than one date with any of them. He still kept people outside of their family at arm’s length and was always clear about the casual nature of those relationships.

Gaster had his own suspicions on why that was.

"But I couldn’t,” Edge repeated doggedly, “it could ruin things for you, for all of us.” He looked up then, his eye lights imploring, “What if I ask and he turns me down, or if he didn't and things went terribly. It would change everything!”

"It could, that is true,” Gaster slouched back in his chair, lacing his hands over his middle, signing on with his conjured ones. “Life is change. My life changed when you and the others came here. Perhaps it will work out, perhaps it won't, but stagnation destroys growth. If you want to ask him out, then ask him, and if something comes of it, wonderful, and if it doesn’t, we’ll work past it.”

Edge nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you, I appreciate your assurance. I didn’t want to presume.”

He stood abruptly and left without another word. Gaster idly wondered how much longer they’d all be waiting for him to ask. He hoped Edge at least waited until Sunday; that was his chosen day in the betting pool.

From the far corner of the room came words, no longer muffled by drop clothes and engines, "so do i really need to wait for him to ask or can i do it for him? ‘cause i've been waiting, he took forever to read the dating manual.”

Gaster looked over at his son, at his grease-covered clothes and the spanner in his filthy hand, the unrepentant grin on his dirty, delighted face.

"Stagnation is death, but patience is also a virtue," Gaster said dryly. "Wait for him, there’s time enough. And if you’re finished for today, I’ll thank you to clean up.”

"sir, yes, sir,” Stretch’s grin widened even as he turned back around, calling back slyly, “guess the lubricant will have to wait for another day.”

“Cheeky,” Gaster murmured, chuckling to himself and pulled his work back towards him. This time it took him less than a minute to find the error in the equation and he erased it, penciling in the correct number. Before he could finish, Stretch scooted around behind him and there was a light brush of teeth against the top of his skull.

“thanks, pop.” Soft, sincere words, and Gaster closed his sockets briefly, affection for this boy, for all his boys, swelling in his soul.

“You’re welcome. Now go get washed up for dinner.”

“uh huh, you better be heading up,” Stretch said, “blue’ll come drag you up if you don’t.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Gaster assured him. He went back to work, absently hearing the door closing behind Stretch. He was almost finished and then he’d head upstairs, to what would surely be an interesting meal if nothing else, depending on who cooked today.

Either way, it would be a perfect dinner. So long as his boys were all there, it always was.

-finis-

#dadster #spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #art rec

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cilldaracailin · 4 years

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These Are The Days Of Our Lives

Hello my Tumblr lovelys!

It is here! A new Robyn and Taron story! Took a long time to get this one done, not gonna lie, slightly struggled at points but I am so glad to have another one ready for you all.

I hope you all enjoy.

Thank you so much as always for the love and support, likes and comments you have shown Robyn and Taron. I can’t believe it is nearly a year since I started this story as a way to keep me busy during the first lock down (We are on our third now..) and look at where it has ended up. It’s been amazing and I love these two so much.

Ok enough talking, welcome to the next story in the Robyn and Taron series.

Suze xx

*Here is the disclaimer. I don’t know Taron and this is all just fiction*

“Birthdays were made for going wild over the people we think are amazing.”

Robyn shook her head towards the air steward as he asked her if she would like anything to drink.

“No thanks.” She answered turning her attention back to her wordsearch in her hands, taking a glance out of the window, seeing nothing but willowy grey and white clouds. Her lips had been in a permanent grin since she reached the airport and she was beyond excited at her reason for flying back to London again. A certain thirty-one-year-old man who had a weekend of surprises planned for her, the Welshman keeping tight lipped when she tried to tease it out of him even bribing him with the promise of a full back massage.

“Robyn why on earth would I even take you up on that offer when I have a book full of massage vouchers to be used whenever I want?” Was his reply.

Robyn grunted at him over the phone, frowning as he chuckled her way.

“Chicken, you really don’t have patience when it comes to certain things, do you? It’s only two days and then all will be revealed. It’s your turn for a bunch of surprises and treats.”

Shaking her head as she recalled the conversation with him, Taron not giving into her, even when she threatened to never give him a head massage again.

“Do you even think you can hold yourself to that? You know that’s your favourite thing to do for me.”

Robyn had to admit defeat herself, knowing first that she would never not be able to give him a head massage and second that she would have to wait until see she saw him to know what he was up too and went along with the change in conversation as she asked him about his filming. She did try to get the plan from him as they came to the end of the phone call, easing it back into their laughter but Taron only chuckled at her again.

“You can wait Robyn.�� He insisted.

She turned her phone over on the airplane tray top, grinning at the pop socket of his face which was still stuck on her back cover. Even with the slagging she had gotten from Emma, Robyn hadn’t been tempted to take it off. It was a little reminder of her wonderful weekend with him at his premier, the cushion he got her sitting beside cwtch in the corner of her couch, the lava lamp on her dressing table in her bedroom.

Turning her phone back over, she pressed play on her music app, smiling to herself as Taron’s voice filled her ears, the Rocketman soundtrack her chosen music choice for the short flight to London. For the first time since New Year’s Eve when she went to visit Taron in Aberystwyth, Robyn’s journey to the airport was a stress free one. She left work on time, drove to the airport and arrived with two hours to spare for strolling around the duty free, giving her lots of time to frown at the over-priced products. Once settled in window seat of the airplane, she had pulled out her phone and without a second thought, chose her most over used playlist to listen to; songs that reminded her of Taron or of him singing himself. She scrolled through her messages from Taron, his zipped smiley face emojis making her grin. She had tried to get him to talk about his plans for the weekend through text message too but his answer came back with the tight-lipped zipped emoji and all she knew was that he had something planned, so gave in asking him yesterday, realising she had to be patient and trust in Taron and his secretive birthday plans.

His skype call on her birthday was very early and from set in London and after he had sung ‘Happy Birthday’ to her twice, once in English and then again in Welsh, he had just told her to bring two nice outfits, one more fancy then the other for the weekend plans and left it at that. Robyn of course started to panic and had begged him for more information about the weekend but Taron had answered her with a ‘I have it all under control chicken.’ After another worried phone call explain to him what she was bringing to wear, Taron had told her that her two chosen outfits were perfect for what he had planned. Robyn still wasn’t convinced that her second outfit was good enough for his secret evening activity, concerned it was another red-carpeted event, so took a late-night shopping trip to the designer dress shop in the next town to pick up a brand-new special dress, even ringing Stella for advice as she stood in the dressing room. It was packed neatly in her suitcase ready to be worn with a pair of matching heels and she hoped it would be suited for his plans.

She happily sighed as she closed her eyes, listening to Tiny Dancer, the fingers of her left hand running over the healing bruises on the back of her right hand. It had taken the four weeks since she had last seen Taron for the worst of the bruising to fade and thankfully, even with the light blue and yellow discolouring on her skin, she had full use of her hand which she was so grateful for. It made the mundane tasks simple again and was glad that she could now blow dry her hair properly and wouldn’t have to worry about asking Taron to help her in and out of her dress, though she hadn’t really objected to his help out of the green one, or the lightest of touches he made with his fingers on the skin of her sides. Memories of dancing to her new favourite Elton song at Taron’s premier flashed through her mind and she grinned. Her thoughts then turned to the tabloids on the Monday, the showbiz pages of all the newspapers had their picture as the main focus of the articles about the premier and Robyn counted her lucky stars as the words underneath the picture were kind and lovely, the critics raving about Taron’s movie and their framed picture on her piano took pride of place in the middle of all of her other photos of her and Taron together. She half smiled as Take Me to the Pilot came on and skipped the song, moving on through the sound track.

She had absolutely no idea what Taron was up to for the weekend apart from the fact that he was working late that evening and he had told her to let herself into his flat in London which she was very much looking forward too, planning to snoop thoroughly through every inch of his place in the same way he had snooped through hers last year. Whatever he had up his sleeve, she was just happy to be seeing him again, glad he had the two days off from filming, giving him an emotional break from the demanding script, his first since he started back working. It would be another quick forty-eight hours but with Taron’s tight schedule, she was glad to get any time with him.

The flight was a quick forty minutes and having been through Heathrow airport four times in the last five months, Robyn could walk to the baggage carousel with her eyes closed. After a quick trip to the toilet, she pulled her case from the moving belt and wandered toward the arrival’s hall. She stopped for two minutes to text Taron, not expecting a text back as she knew he was working through his extremely busy daily schedule as he filmed with Matthew but wanted him to know she had arrived safe. Making her way out of arrivals with her suitcase, Taron had told her he had organised a driver for her to bring her to his flat and she smiled as she recognised the smartly dressed man waiting for her at the exit to the airport as she headed towards the pick-up area of arrivals.

“Miss Quinn!” Anthony grinned, laughing as Robyn rushed towards him with a light jog and gave him an unexpected hug. “So lovely to see you again.”

Robyn smiled back his way as they took a step apart. “You too Anthony and you know you can call me Robyn.”

“Of course Miss Quinn.” He nodded taking her case from her. “Going to Taron’s, right?”

“Please.”

Robyn went to open the car door but felt a hand on hers as Anthony shook his head her way. “Miss Quinn, you should know by now how this works.” Robyn stepped back and he opened the door for her, gesturing for her to get into the car.

“Thank you.” Once inside the car she let Anthony close the door and smiled to herself, taking her shoulder bag off and putting it to her left, her head turning in the same direction as she wanted to route through her bag for her phone to give Taron another text to say thanks for asking Anthony to pick her up when she noticed the very large bunch of flowers on the back seat beside her. She reached over to pick up the bunch of colourful flowers, different varieties in the bouquet, a card stuck in the very middle. “Taron…” She murmured to herself.

“I see you got his flowers.” Antony settled himself into the driver’s seat, seeing Robyn’s reflection in the rear-view mirror.

“I see Taron is up to his old surprise tricks.”

Anthony turned around in the seat to look at her. “Taron is not actually the person behind these flowers. I suggest you read the card Miss Quinn.”

Robyn stared at Anthony, trying to frown at him as he called her Miss Quinn again but he only gave her a small wink and started the car.

“We will at Taron’s within the hour Miss Quinn.”

As the car pulled away from the curb, Robyn took the card from the centre of the flowers and opened the small envelope.

‘My dear darling Robyn. Wishing you a very Happy Birthday. I look forward to another duet with you. We must organise another visit soon. I never did get to hear you play but would most definitely enjoy your company once again. Hope you get everything and more that you wish for on your special day. Love Elton and David.’

Robyn’s mouth dropped as she read the card once more, catching Anthony’s eye in the mirror. “Not from who you thought.”

“How did Elton know it was my birthday?”

“You do know that Taron and Elton are friends Miss Quinn?”

“You do know that Miss Quinn is my mother?” Robyn answered bringing the flowers to her face to smell their fragrance.

“I believe your mother is actually Mrs Quinn, Miss Quinn and Elton wanted to mark the occasion of your birthday with something.”

“You will have to thank him for me. These are beautiful.”

“I will do Miss Quinn.” Anthony chuckled as his passenger frowned at him. “Sit back and relax Robyn. We will be at Taron’s soon.”

Placing the flowers carefully beside her, Robyn got her phone from her bag and finally got to text Taron. Knowing he wouldn’t get the two messages until he had a break in filming, she popped her phone back in her bag and ran her right hand over the pink plastic wrap of her flowers. She had barely stepped out of the airport and already was met with a birthday surprise, starting to worry about what Taron had in store. He had been so secretive about it all and her mind drifted back to his birthday weekend in Aber. It had been a wonderful weekend getting to know his family, nice and simple with no plans at all, their sudden swim in the ocean the only unexpected surprise and with their relationship changing so much over the last few months, Robyn was a little nervous about what he had in store for her, especially as she became more open to his world in the public eye but she knew he wouldn’t do anything she would be uncomfortable with. Leaning her head back against the headrest, she couldn’t help but smile. Four weeks seemed like an age since she had a wonderfully tight squishy hug from Taron and she had a feeling her birthday hug from him was going to be a great one.

The drive to Taron’s apartment block was quick and as Anthony took her bag out of the boot of the car, Robyn waited patiently with her flowers.

“Are you sure you can manage Miss Quinn? I can help you carry this inside.”

“I can manage thank you Anthony and please call me Robyn.”

Anthony grinned at her. “Enjoy your evening Miss Quinn and I will see you and Taron tomorrow.”

“Oh so you call Taron Taron but you won’t call me Robyn?” She stood with her hands on her hips as he got back into the car, her flowers on top of her case.

“Good evening Miss Quinn!”

Robyn rolled her eyes as he closed the car door and drove off slowly leaving her alone outside the gates to the apartment complex. She picked up her flowers and wheeled her case over to the pillar with the keypad on it, pressing the code in which Taron had given her to open the gates. She waited for them to open enough so she could walk through and pulled her case behind her entering the grounds of the private apartments.

“Good evening Miss Quinn.” Ben the security guard, strolled out of his box and leaned against the door giving her a wave. “Happy birthday.”

She gave him a small wave, stopping as he hopped out of his security hut and strolled over to her. “Taron asked me to give you this.” He handed her a key. “Said you would need it to get in to his flat.”

Robyn took the key from him and pushed it into the right front pocket of her jeans. “Yes please. Thank you.”

“No problem. Have a good birthday.”

“Thank you Ben.” Robyn smiled his way and then kept walking towards Taron’s block, shaking her head as she walked. She knew she had to get the key for his flat from the security guard and it really shouldn’t have been a surprise to her that even the security guard knew it was her birthday weekend but it seemed Taron had told the whole world about his weekend with her. Pushing her way in through the doors, she reached the lift and once on Taron’s floor, headed to the end of the corridor to his apartment. She dug the key from her pocket and held it against the keypad, the door unlocking with ease. The apartment was dark in comparison to the light of the hallway but Robyn figured with his very early starts on set, Taron just got up and ran, not bothering to open curtains around his home. She dragged her case in, the bag falling over onto the ground as she fumbled along the wall for a light switch, not remembering quite where it was. She kept the door open with her left foot giving some light into his flat and eventually she found the light switch. Bight light flooded the open space of his living area and as she thought, it looked like he had left in a hurry. The grey fleece blanket she had given him was in a bundle on his couch, a cup on his coffee table. She pushed her case over with her foot and walking into his living area, placed the key and flowers on the coffee table beside his couch. Shrugging her light coat off, she threw it onto his couch too and walked into the dark kitchen, heading straight for where she thought the light switch was. She flicked it on and screamed as a loud shout and bang disrupted the silence of the apartment.

“Surprise!”

Robyn turned her on feet, her heart beating incredibly fast in her chest and tried to catch her breath as a flutter of colourful confetti fell over her head, Taron the other side of the island in the kitchen smiling her way, his hands in the air, a party hat on his head, a glittery rainbow banner over his right shoulder.

“Jesus Christ Taron!”

On seeing the shock in her face, Taron quickly walked around the island to stand in front of her. He knew he finished filming early on the Friday that Robyn was coming to London and he hadn’t told her so, wanting to surprise her for her birthday but he never meant to give her a fright and as he placed his hands on her shoulders, he gave them both a squeeze, watching as her eyes looked to him.

“Surprise.” He repeated again but a little quieter this time.

As Robyn placed her hands on his chest to steady herself, she was relieved to know it was Taron who had frightened her but she could have killed him for giving her a slight heart attack. She saw the concern in his eyes and tilted her head at him a little taking in the hat on his head and birthday banner over his shoulder, seeing his concern change into a grin as he took his hands from her shoulders. She caught his quick movements as he pulled something from his back pocket and she jumped a little as he pulled another confetti popper over the two of them.

“Happy Birthday!” He cried excitedly, chucking the now empty popper behind him and quickly pulling her body into his for a hug, her hands trapped between the two of them. “Happy birthday.” He repeated into her hair, smiling at the confetti scattered through her ponytail, rubbing her back in circles. “I think I scared you. Not my intention at all. It was meant to be a surprise.”

“Oh it was a surprise all right.” Robyn mumbled into his shoulder, breathing in his freshly showered scent, freeing her hands so she could give him a hug back. “Thought you were filming.”

“I was.” He gently kissed her head. “This morning.”

“You plan all this? To get the day off?”

“I wish I could say yes but nope just the way our schedule worked this week. We were actually supposed to be finished at eleven but we ran over. I had trouble with a scene.”

Robyn moved her head from his shoulder. “You ok?”

Taron nodded. “Some of the lines are just horrible and hard to react to. It is very difficult to stay in character at times.”

“Sounds like you need a squishy hug this time.”

Taron smiled a little sadly. “I definitely could have done with one earlier but I am ok now.”

“You sure?” Robyn asked as she reached up to take some confetti from his forehead.

“Yep.”

“I am going to give you one anyway.” Robyn said firmly as she pulled him close to her, one hand flat on his lower back, the other going to the back of his head, scratching his scalp deeply. “Apart from the difficult scene today, filming going well?” Robyn knew how hard Taron was finding the abusive script and was emotionally drained by it already and it was only a month into filming. He hadn’t given her the indebt details of the script but Robyn understood that the part of the son that Taron was playing was subjected to physical and emotional abuse within the script from his father. Over the last week the scenes required more specific details and Taron had to sit in make-up now, Stephanie, the same make-up artist from Kingsman, applying bruising effects to his skin just making the realism behind the movie much harder to take in.

“It is. We are on schedule which Matthew is delighted about and will be due to move to Belfast now in the next two weeks.” Taron nestled into Robyn’s neck. “You will come and visit me, right?” He asked in a whisper.

“Naturally and I will be bringing cookies with me.”

“Just for me though?”

Robyn moved her hand to the short hairs at the back of his neck, her fingers running in light circles on his skin, some confetti falling from the back of his head as she gave him a small massage. “Only for you.”

Their cuddle was close and tight and Robyn kissed his neck lightly, grinning as he lifted her off her feet a little.

“Happy Birthday Robyn.”

“Thanks Taron.”

He carefully let her go, Robyn finally getting a chance to look at him. A tiredness was evident on his face but it wasn’t from lack of sleep but more so an emotional fatigue and his eyes looked laden with worry even though his mood had been bright and cheery when he surprised her. The short-cropped hair was the same cut, if not a little shorter, as when he came to see her in April and the tight shave around his ears and back of his head was waiting to be scratched with her fingers. Not even hesitating, Robyn brought her hands to his face, cupping his cheeks very lightly, her hands moving to his head, taking the birthday hat from his head and letting it hang off her elbow. She returned her hands to his head and let her nails graze his scalp as she went. As expected, his head fell towards his chest and she was very happy to continue her little treat for him.

“Jesus Robyn.” Taron moaned as she knew exactly how to scratch his head, which spots to hit and how to literally make him melt on her hands. He felt her body move closer to his and his forehead rested on her shoulder as she deeply massaged his head, another grateful moan leaving his lips when she further increased the pressure she was using. A long happy breath left his body along with the stress he had felt that morning and he was amazed with how easy it was for this wonderful woman in front of him to know what he needed so quickly. He would have stayed with her hands in his hair all evening but this weekend was for Robyn and reluctantly he reached up to take her hands from his head, kissing each one as he lifted his face from her shoulder. “Thank you.” Her smile was perfect and as always, his heart skipped a beat with love for her.

“Any time.” It was quick two-minute massage and Robyn could see a slight light back in his eyes and she loved being able to give Taron that feeling of relief, even more so getting to give him a small massage and hear the appreciative sounds that came from him as she gave him a little bit of pleasure. His quiet moans made her shiver and her body tingle in all the right places.

“These are actually for you.” Taron took the cone shaped birthday hat from her elbow and carefully placed it on her head and then slipped the rainbow birthday banner from his shoulder and over his head, onto her body, making sure it was sitting right. “You need to look the part.”

“And do I?” She jumped as he pulled another confetti popper from another pocket of his jeans, another cloud of coloured paper confetto falling over the two of them. “You need to stop doing that.”

“Last one, promise.” He grinned, fixing the hat so it sat a little straighter on her head. “And yes you do. Ready for all the birthday activities.”

As Taron fixed the hat on her head, her eyes glanced past him and to the island in his kitchen, only then noticing the mess on the marble countertop. “What on earth have you been up too? What are you making?”

Taron’s eyes opened wide and his mouth fell open. “Oh shit!” He stepped away from her and quickly dashed around the island to open the oven, Robyn following him, looking at the chaos of stuff on the island. Bowls, spilt flour, a weighing scales and food colouring littered the usual tidy kitchen unit. She watched him open the oven and saw a cloud of smoke puff out from the oven. She heard his curse loud and clear along with a second one and a clatter of something metal.

“Taron?” She walked over to him as he stood running his hands through his short hair and then down his face, a new aura frustration radiating from him, his whole body slightly hunched in exasperation. She came to stand beside him and saw what had caused his sudden change in mood. “Oh Taron. It’s not that bad.”

He turned to look her way. “Not that bad? Not that bad?” He repeated. “Robyn it’s black. It’s meant to be pink! It’s the last layer and I ruined it.”

She stepped a little closer to him, wrapping her right arm around his waist and she could feel the tension as he now stood straight, his body almost shaking in his growing irritation. “You baked?”

“If you call this disaster baked, then sure, I baked.” He groaned furiously. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. Make something for you and I even followed the recipe you wrote down. I figured I made the key lime pie for my mam; I could make the rainbow cake for you but of course I fucked it up.” He pushed the tin away from him in anger, cursing once more as the hot tin burned the tip of his index finger. He immediately brought his finger to his mouth, sucking on it to ease the slight heat he felt.

Robyn gave his side another tight squeeze, taking his hand from his mouth, running her own index finger over the tip of his slightly red one. “It is ok Taron.”

“No it’s fucking not.” He returned irritably pulling his hand from her roughly. “One thing I wanted to do for you, that I did myself, that’s not from a shop and I fucking ruined it.” In huff of frustration and annoyance, Taron stormed past Robyn and out of the kitchen and she heard the bedroom door slam loudly, leaving her completely bewildered standing in the kitchen alone.

Robyn stood still entirely perplexed by Taron’s sudden and complete change in his mood and pulled the slightly cooled baking tin towards her. She could understand his disappointment as she touched the burnt cake but couldn’t figure out why he was so infuriated. She turned to face the island, taking the three steps needed to cross over the kitchen floor. A mess was an understatement for what Taron had been up to as he baked. Her eyes roamed the table and sitting on the left corner was the memory book she had made him last year, the page for the rainbow cake open and lightly dusted with floury fingerprints. She walked over to the book and smiled sadly, his upset becoming more understandable. When he came to visit her, it must always have seemed to him like her life was perfect especially when he always got a good sleep and respite with her and he only wanted to return the favour to her, giving her the same love and affection that she always gave to him. From the outside it looked like her life was perfect but she had her own worries and troubles just as he had.

She turned the book over and flicked through a few pages, her smile growing as she looked at the photos she had stuck into his book. Such lovely memories filled her mind but her face became sad as she picked up the book to look at his bruised and hurt face in the photo of him kissing her cheek. It was the first photo they had taken together, their first kiss. Sometimes her dreams were still filled with images of Taron unconscious in the 7/11 and lately she woke up with a fright, her hands shaking. Now at the end of May it was only three months away since she had saved his life and she wasn’t surprised to be caught up in the horrible nightmares again. She ran her fingers over the photo of them. They had had so many more kisses and hugs and touches and moments since then and she felt her heart flutter as she thought about the closeness they had with other, how warm his body was, how wonderful it felt to be back in his arms.

“Robyn get a grip.” She said to herself, feeling her cheeks blush and that all too familiar heat on her skin that seemed to be gaining fire the more she thought about Taron, the more she was in his presence.

She turned the pages in the book and it warmed her heart to see how well he had looked after the leather journal but also how he had tried to make her something special for her birthday using one of the recipes she had wrote out for him. She could imagine how perfect he wanted this weekend to be for her and a burnt cake just pushed an already emotional charged and tired man over the edge.

She closed the book over, took off her birthday hat and banner, leaving them beside the sink and walked down the small hallway towards his bedroom and the closed door. She didn’t bother to knock but pushed down the handle and let the door roll open and took a single step into his room. It was dark inside, his curtains pulled and no lights on, the only brightness came from the open bedroom door but the body on the bed could only have been Taron’s. Laying on his stomach, his face was buried in the green dinosaur in his hands and he was so still, Robyn found it very hard to see in the dark the easy rise and fall of his back as he breathed.

“Taron?” She called quietly, a mumble coming back to her in reply. Walking over to the double bed, she climbed up beside him. “Taron?” He didn’t answer her this time and she moved closer to him, sliding down the pillows a little so her hip was in line with his head. Without even asking him she placed her right hand onto the crown of his head and very gently started to run her fingers in circles over his scalp.

He desperately wanted to be mad and stay mad but as Robyn lovingly scratched his head, he could feel his anger slipping away fast. He was so distraught with the disaster of a birthday cake he had been making for her and the fact that he had arrived home late had put him under pressure to make the cake and he was already feeling down after filming that morning and even though Robyn had tried to lift his mood when he burnt her cake, he just knew he had ruined the perfect birthday he had planned for her and stormed out of the kitchen, falling dramatically onto his bed, cuddling draiocht to his face, inhaling the light lingering scent of Robyn’s perfume on the blouse that the green dinosaur wore. He couldn’t even bring himself to his look at Robyn who naturally had followed him to his bedroom. He now felt ashamed of his actions and though it wasn’t her intention and he knew she meant well, feeling Robyn’s hand in his hair made him feel worse but so wonderful at the same time.

“When you are ready, I am here.”

Exhaling miserably, Taron turned his face to the left, his nose touching Robyn’s leg, she sat that close to him. He shuffled closer to her and as Robyn encouraged him up onto her lap, she cradled his head and with two hands started to massage his scalp again. He blinked away tears that had suddenly come to his eyes and moved his hands to rub them roughly, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. A new tiredness filled his whole body and it was worse than feeling weary and drained and when he felt Robyn so carefully run her left hand up and down his waist comforting him, his whole body was filled with guilt. He knew in his heart, she wasn’t mad at him and with her soft hands on his body, he cuddled into her some more but he still felt extremely awful for his behaviour.

“I am sorry.” He spoke into her leg. “Fucking hell Robyn, I am so sorry.”

Robyn eased her fingertips into the shaved part of his hair and let her nails lightly scratch his head. “Nothing to be sorry for.” She assured him.

“On your birthday and everything.”

“My birthday was on Wednesday. Today is Friday. Not my birthday anymore.”

“Robyn…” Taron tilted his head back a little, Robyn’s hand moving with him so her hand was now on his forehead.

“You have nothing to apologise for Taron.” She smoothed his frown away. “And you haven’t ruined anything.”

“I think the words I used were fucking ruined it.”

Robyn applied a deeper pressure to his head. “You haven’t fucking ruined anything. I have only stepped in the door Taron.” Robyn ran a finger lightly down his nose, watching as his eyes closed. She did it again before her hand wandered back to his hair. “Matthew have anything to do with this?” She asked, her fingers running over his short hair, making sure to scratch deep over his ear.

Taron inwardly groaned as Robyn lovingly kneaded his head, once again taking care of him without question and he snuggled a little further into her warm body, craving her touch. “It was longer earlier in the week but for the movie and script, I had to cut it myself on camera.” He felt her hands stall momentarily before they picked up their pace again and if possible, the deep pressure on the side of his head felt even more pleasurable than before.

“You had to cut it on camera?”

Taron nodded into her lap. “It was in the script Robyn. I didn’t just cut my hair for the fun of it.” Robyn heard the change in his voice and went take his right hand which was tucked under his chin, giving it a very light squeeze.

The new touch to his hand was comforting and inside Taron was kicking himself for being short with her. “I mentally can’t go into it at the moment but within the script my father likes to grab and pull my characters hair, giving him something to hold as he rips into me. By my character cutting his hair, he prays it will ease up on the beatings.”

Robyn wrapped her two arms around him and hugged him tight against her, kissing his head. “I like your hair like this.” She whispered against his temple.

Taron slipped his arms around Robyn’s. “Can we just stay here for a little while?” He asked her very quietly.

“For as long as you want.”

Robyn moved her hands back to his head and starting above his right ear, gave every part of his head a deep rub, making sure she got a few nose strokes in too, finally feeling him relax against her after a good five minutes of silence. “Anything else you want to get off your chest?”

“Sorry I burnt your cake?”

Robyn gave his side a playful pinch. “Not what I meant and you know it.”

Taron sighed against her. “I am sorry for getting angry in the kitchen. I just want this weekend to be perfect for us and you are barely in the door and I found a way to just upset everything.”

“You have upset nothing. Like you said, I am only in the door and something is so obviously bothering you and the weekend doesn’t need to be perfect Taron.” She heard him mutter something. “Wanna repeat that for me?”

“It has to be perfect.”

“Taron…” Robyn placed her right hand under his chin, lifting it so he had to look at her. “It does not have to be perfect. I will take confetti in my hair, a burnt cake and a squishy hug over perfect any day. It is more than I have been given before and we could just sit and watch movie’s and I would be happy and I know you know this.”

“I know chicken.” Taron nestled back onto her lap. “Keith never celebrated your birthday?”

“He thought a six pack and a ready meal was perfect and then during our last year together, he was hooking up with that ex friend I told you about and came home with take out for one after a good few beers. You can guess where that went.”

Taron sat up quickly, his face in shock. “Robyn…”

“Not there you tosspot.” She felt him sit beside her, their shoulders and legs touching. “Not even close. He fell asleep on the couch after he had puked all over my rug. Such a lovely thoughtful gift which by the way was the only one I got from him.”

“Fucker.” Taron replied to her.

“Homemade cake and scary surprises trump any birthday Keith ever did for me Taron. So, while to you cake and confetti might not be perfect, to me it is. Just to be here is perfect and I know you have a lot of stuff planned, secret stuff Taron, so please don’t be fretting over a cake which by the way, you made from scratch and if only the pink layer got a little bit crispy, I am imagining there are six other layers and while we are on the subject of layers, anything you want to get off your chest? You seem to be carrying a load on your shoulders.”

“I never thought about the other layers.” Sighing, he moved a little so he could rest his cheek on her shoulder. “I am so sorry for the shitty mood. It’s been a hard week. I am so emotionally drained by the script and I knew it was going to be a tough shoot and Matthew and the cast have been great but still, it is heart breaking acting out the lines and reacting on set and for some reason, I can’t shake the day off when I come home. I was beyond frustrated today when I kept messing up and not because I couldn’t get the lines right but because I was so overwhelmed and overcome with emotions and just needed to collect myself before we could continue. We were due to finish early and we did but it was probably three hours later than planned but we never got the scene completed. Matthew insisted on letting us finish up early as planned, even though I wanted to try again. He practically pushed me out.” Once Taron started to speak, he found it hard to stop and felt a little better after his confession. “Like I said earlier, today was just horrible.”

“And then you put yourself under such pressure for me.”

Taron closed his eyes, reaching for Robyn’s right hand, being careful as he was not sure if it was still injured four weeks after she caught it in the gate at work. “You always do such wonderful things for me Robyn. I just wanted to make sure that this weekend was one full of lovely things for you to enjoy.”

Robyn slipped her right arm around his shoulders and guided him under her chin, Taron moving to lay on his side, a long sorrowful sigh filling his lungs, as he closed his eyes, his ear right over her heart. “We could stay like this for the whole weekend Taron and I would be more than happy. I don’t need big gestures.”

“Which is why I wanted to make your cake for you. It’s something so special for you, something you deserve and have every right to get. It’s your birthday and it should be celebrated.”

Robyn kissed Taron’s head. “Thank you and it is ok not to get your scenes perfect on the first try and I am only a phone call away when you need to get this stuff off your chest.” She kissed him again, her lips lingering on his warm skin. “A fresh head on Monday will make all the difference to how you feel and how you act out the script. Trust Matthew, even more so with this movie. It’s so awfully hard in comparison to Kingsman and when he tells you it’s ok to stop, then stop. It doesn’t take from your ability or skills but rather gives you the moments you need to process the emotions you feel so you don’t exhaust yourself and if you still have six layers, we can still make a rainbow birthday cake.” Robyn ran her the back of her fingers of her right hand very slowly and lovingly down his right cheek. “I never was partial to the colour pink anyway.” She felt the grin on his face under her hand. “Would you like me to help you with the rest of the cake?”

Taron nodded and then spoke. “Can I just have a few more minutes of a Robyn cuddle first? I can use my voucher.”

Robyn chuckled. “Since it’s my birthday and I get to do what I want and I want to cuddle you, this one is on the house.” Wrapping him up in a tight squeeze, Robyn closed her eyes, resting her cheek on his head. “You are doing a wonderful thing with this movie Taron. Please don’t doubt yourself and I am already having the best birthday I could ask for.”

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Love #Friendship #Birthdays #Surprises #Worry #Emotions #Cuddles #Heartache #Presents #Robyn and Taron

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sopewriters · 5 years

Text

Mιɳԃ Gαɱҽʂ | 01

Summary: With a murderer prowling the streets, and a charming villain on the loose, all bets are off.

Pairing: Jaehhyun X Reader; Hero x Villain AU

Word Count: 4.9K

Warning(s): None yet.

“Run the tape again.”

The screen flickers dimly, lighting up your gaunt features. Every part of you screams of exhaustion, as it should – you’ve hardly gotten any sleep all night. Your fingers tap against the desk in front of you, restless, and it takes everything in you not to bounce your leg.

The man beside you – your partner – looks at your tense jaw, pursed lips, and frowns. “You can take a break for tonight, you know. I doubt they’ll come back so soon.”

“But you don’t know that.” You correct harshly, making him recoil. Guilt stabs at you, and you sigh. “Sorry, I… I’m sorry Mark, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

Mark smiles at you, and you only now notice the pallor of his cheeks, the shadows under his eyes. Your partner hasn’t gotten anymore sleep than you have. With a large, cracking yawn that could probably split a lesser man’s face open, you shake your head.

The protest – or lack, thereof – building on Mark’s lips immediately dies, and he exhales heavily.

“This guy is unreal.” He comments, dropping back into his seat beside you. “How does he avoid the cameras so well? They were even set up so no one would be able to dodge them – is this his Gift, do you think?”

You cast a wry glance at him, then. “No, Mark, we both know for a fact that his Gift isn’t invisibility. Remember the one time he made some sort of illusion to throw the cops off his trail?”

“Ah, right.” Something like awe passes quickly over his face, though he’s careful to school his expression at your chiding glance. “I forgot.”

“Funny, you were gushing about how wicked Joker was for weeks.” You nudge him lightly, a tiny grin on your lips – probably for the first time tonight. “It was cute.”

His cheeks immediately flush – adorable – and you wish there were better lighting so you could see them better.

Unfortunately, being a superpowered vigilante can really cast a wrench in your budget. Not everyone can be a millionaire-cum-superhero, no matter how much they’d love to be. And balancing the criminal nightlife with your actual life… well. University has always been particularly unforgiving.

“______…” He grouses, burying his face in his palms as you laugh. “Why’re you always so mean to me?”

“You just make it really easy.”

“ ______!”

“What? Am I wrong?”

Mark huffs out a breath, pushing away from the desk and standing up to flick on the light. “I’m not even gonna bother. I know you aren’t going to drop it!”

“You’re – oh my fucking god, turn the lights back off!” The measly light you do have is still blinding, making your head almost ache from how bright they are. “Mark!”

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” He laughs, dodging one of your well-timed swipes. “Alright, I’m going to jet before you actually manage to hit me again. Please try and get some rest? We’ll go over this again tomorrow.”

He looks at you imploringly.

You laugh fakely. “Oh, yeah, of course!”

Mark sighs, resigned, and gives you a waning smile as he moves to leave. He pauses, briefly. “We should really find a new HQ.”

You look around at your converted closet, thinking he’s not wrong. But, again, life isn’t quite like the movies and you don’t really have the money to spare on much beyond your daily necessities. Frozen food isn’t quite as cheap as it used to be around these parts. If anything, you’re lucky you have a walk-in closet large enough to accommodate a small desk, especially in your dorm.

Going to an expensive college in a rich part of town does have some benefits even if, tuition aside, you’re financially on your own.

“We’ll see,” you mumble tiredly, head thumping softly against said desk. “You know how tight our budget is.”

“Yeah, I do.” Mark looks apologetic, giving you a quick wave before he’s stepping out, likely heading back to his own room.

Now that he’s gone, though, your place is entirely too quiet, and it really puts you on edge. At least Mark turned the light on, earlier – you might as well credit him for that – so it’s not as creepy as it could be. But still.

You turn back to the monitor, mouth pursing into a frown as you watch the slight flicker of shadows – the criminal’s only trail. Something about this guy doesn’t seem all that right, and it’s seriously making you paranoid. You’ve never interacted with him, though – that, as it seems, only really happens to the licensed superheroes in your sector – but there’s just something about him…

You turn off the monitor with a sigh, wondering why on earth you’ve stupidly chosen to deal with this guy, of all people. You ignore the little niggling in the back of your mind that tells you that you’re really just trying to put off real-life responsibilities by taking unnecessary tasks upon yourself; that’s totally not true, no. What – why would anyone think that?!

You duck your head out of your closet, tentatively stepping out into your actual room. There isn’t much in there; just your bed, a cabinet for your papers and files, and a dresser in which your clothes actually go. Most of the place is just free space, honestly, and you could have your whole hero setup here, but… secrecy is important. And your closet is a lot more private than your room itself, for obvious reasons.

“ ______ !!” The door slams open, and your enraged best friend storms inside.

Case in point.

“Hey, F/N…” You say awkwardly, leaning against your bed so you can look at her fuming face. “Um. Fancy seeing you here?”

“Why aren’t you in bed?” She pinches the bridge of her nose, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. “It’s almost midnight!”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” You counter, eyes catching onto her mussed hair, puffy eyes. “I was so quiet; how could I possibly have—?”

“Mark.” She says simply, to which you inwardly groan. Of course. Mark “Clumsy” Lee lives up to his name, yet again. “Are you sure you two aren’t dating? He’s been over for whole nights before.”

“What, are girls and guys not allowed to spend the night without dating or screwing around?” You snap defensively. Too defensively, judging by the smirk forming on her face. “No. No, no, no. Whatever bullshit you’re going to spew at me right now, save it, because I sure as hell won’t like it.”

“I’m just saying, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt,” she sings, ducking to narrowly avoid a pillow projectile. “It’s not a big deal! Mark’s super cute.”

“And you can have him.” You mutter in response, shuddering at the thought of dating him. Being in close quarters has really educated you to some of his more… quirky habits, and you couldn’t ever deal with that on a permanent basis. Plus, he’s not really your type.

F/N just rolls her eyes at you. “Whatever, pretend all you want. I know the truth though.”

“Is there something you actually need?” You level her with a flat stare. “Or are you just trying to snoop in on me?”

She smiles guiltily, like the guilty person she is. It might as well be branded on her forehead, G-U-I-L-T-Y, and you really hope she trips over one of her stupid pencils and stumbles down to hell.

What? You can be petty if you want to be, and it’s all in your head anyway. No one will ever know.

“No, there’s nothing important.” She assures you, though you really don’t need her assurance. “I just… worry about you sometimes, you know?”

“Well gee, thanks for making my night a whole lot better with that vote of confidence.” You mutter, sarcastic as ever, though your subsequent words die on your tongue at her sharp look.

“Relax, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted to know if you were going to go to bed, or if you couldn’t sleep or something.” She shrugs. “I’m being rebellious and staying up past my bedtime.”

Well.

You grin sharply at that. Maybe she can stay in the land of the living for a little longer. You take back everything you thought just a few moments ago. “Oh, have I been waiting for this day.”

So. Staying up last night was possibly the worst decision you’ve ever made. Your eyes feel like they might just pop out of their sockets any moment now and the only thing that could possibly make this better is a good cup of coffee. Or, even better, two.

But life, as always, is cruel.

“I hate you.” You mutter at your coffee pot, squinting angrily at it through stinging eyes. “You had one fucking job.”

Yep. The coffee pot, as fate would have it, has completely broken down – just to deprive you of your life, of course, no big deal. Who even needs to be awake for their 8AM discussion anyway, right?

“Stupid, useless hunk of garbage, I should just melt you down already.” Your fevered death chant follows you all the way to the front door as you sling your backpack over your shoulder. It stops there, though, because you’re too tired to keep it up.

F/N’s lucky she doesn’t have to wake up early today, and you angrily curse her in your head because goodwill? It’s all gone now. Maybe she’ll get a really bad case of the Hiccups. Maybe it’ll be terminal Hiccups.

You cringe at your own deviousness.

You manage to bike all the way to class without perishing which, in your books, deserves a gold star. You don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve somehow managed to not get hit by a car, or a bus, or a truck, or another bike, or a pedestrian (though you wouldn’t really mind that last option. People really need to stop looking at their phones while they walk, holy shit). It’s a miracle, truly.

Maybe it’s because you’ve got to attend a Classics discussion; shockingly, it’s one of your more bearable classes. Scratch that, it’s possibly one of your favorites. You might be a STEM major, but the way they discuss mythology in this class really gets to you.

And, of course, there’s your TA too. He’s probably one of the kindest, sweetest people you know – and that’s saying something, given that you know Mark and are even acquainted with Wong Yukhei, the Student Council VP. No, you don’t know how that happened and, frankly, don’t care to find out either.

“Hey there, ______.” You look up at the sound of your name, seeing your TA cock his head at you a little quizzically. “You okay? You seem a little out of breath.”

Yeah, it’s no big, I practically just pulled an all-nighter and biked all the way here using the mothballs that are my eyes, with the level of coffee running through my bloodstream hitting a critical low. It’s fine, it’s totally fine! And if you weren’t the unobservant piece of crap, sweetheart you are, I’d feel a hell of a lot better—

“I’m fine.” You make an effort not to let your gasps for air grow too obvious, giving him a strained smile. “I just, um – just biked here.”

“Ah, I see. You can come inside, you know, sit down.” He holds the door wide open for you, letting you slip inside. “Do you have water? Would you like me to get you some?”

He gives you an appraising look. “Though, something tells me you need something stronger? Coffee, maybe?”

He holds up a thermos, shaking it gently with a questioning look on his face; and, on cue, your mouth begins to water. You need it. You must have it.

“What gave it away?” You chuckle weakly, before shaking your head. “No thanks, Jungwoo, but I appreciate it.”

You last remaining braincells cry, extremely sorry for your loss.

Jungwoo sighs, “I don’t mind sharing, ______, trust me. I promise I didn’t poison it or anything, and I won’t give you much – just a tiny cup.”

He pours some out into the cap of his flask, offering it to you. You stare at the beautifully crafted drink of perfection, steam gently curling off it, and wonder if Kim Jungwoo is a god. He must be, with this sort of impeccable timing.

Still, you’d feel a little awkward taking a drink from a TA that you actually don’t know all that well. That… might not be a good idea.

“I’m really fine.” You smile tightly at him. “I promise. Thank you, though.”

But why?! your brain cells demand, and you don’t have a satisfactory answer for them.

“If you’re sure.” He shrugs it off easily, smile never dimming. He’s pretty cute when he smiles – basically, all the time – but he isn’t really your type.

You think back to the crush you used to harbor on Yukhei. Your cheeks burn when you remember that you still find your gaze fixed to his long, slender fingers on more than one occasion – but you can’t help that. He’s just… too much. It’s unfair, really. But yeah, that’s your type. Tall and handsome, and unfair.

Great, and now you’re thinking about Jung Jaehyun.

You settle back into your desk and will your blush away as you begin pulling out a notebook and a pencil. You don’t usually take notes during section – not unless you’ve got some big essay coming up that he’d review in class – but it gives you something to do instead of just sitting idle.

You quickly sneak a peek at Jungwoo and, seeing that he’s preoccupied leafing through some of his notes, play a game of Catch the Pen. You locate the nearest shadow and guide your pencil through it, propelling it with enough of a velocity for it to hurtle out of another shadow to nestle comfortably between your fingers. It’s basically like playing catch with yourself.

And yeah, it got boring after the third or fourth time, but your only other option is using your phone, which – hey, not a bad idea. A quick scroll through your social media has you holding back your coos when you see videos of cute puppies attempting to do even cuter things. God, do you love dogs.

It’s only when Jungwoo raps his fist against his desk – a cue for all of you to start paying attention – that you notice that the empty desks from before have all been filled up. You quickly stash your phone in your back pocket, before leaning forward on your desk, settling your cheek in the palm of your hand as you force yourself to pay attention.

Ah, damn it. Your eyes still sting.

“Good morning guys!” Jungwoo beams at you, entirely too cheery for your tastes, given that it’s eight in the fucking morning. “How were your weekends?”

Your mind flashes back to your weekend, and you suppress a wince. Yeah. That was… not a good time, especially for the vigilante Caligo – for you. After getting your ass pummeled by a random guy in a mask – a random guy who you think just might be Joker, thief extraordinaire, and the person who you were watching through the footage last night – you weren’t really having a great time.

Not to mention your purpled cheek, courtesy of a deck to the face. You bruise like a peach and you’re really fucking lucky that F/N has a healing ability and a penchant to not ask difficult questions. She probably thinks you’re getting caught up in some shady business – drugs, maybe? – and honestly, that wouldn’t be too far from the truth, if a little exaggerated.

Jungwoo, luckily, takes the grumbled mutterings from the rest of your class that perfectly encapsulate your weekend experience in stride, beaming excitedly and holding up a faded copy of the translation of Ovid’s The Fall of Icarus. “Well, nothing better than this to turn that around, yeah?”

You hold back a sigh as you flip to the page he’ll inevitably bring up. You’d rather read about Icarus, who the book’s title deceptively alludes to, than the rest of these short stories. But, well. As life would have it—

“Let’s talk about what happened with Theseus and the Minotaur, shall we?”

A part of you is grateful that you’ve managed to survive most of your day, and it’s really only the thought of going to your chem lab that makes you perk up.

Now, don’t be misled; you still hate having to go to lab. The actual practice, in itself, isn’t all that hard, but the fact that you have to do it at all is just so ugh. Frankly, you’re only going because it’s required for your major, because fuck chemistry, and doubly fuck organic chemistry. It’s all just way too stressful.

But, well, back to the main point: lab is only really fun because you get a whole two and a half hours to fully appreciate some A+ eye-candy. Not that you would ever actually want to objectify him that way, but your TA is just so gorgeous that it’s unfair, really. Just a smile from him could have you tripping over your feet and potentially spilling dangerous chemicals all over yourself.

As it is, you’ve managed to survive so far, if only to irritate F/N with your very accurate description of how sharp his jawline is, how his dimple is to die for, how he just looks so dependable and warm and—

“Hey Jaehyun.” You greet him as you wait outside the lab. No one’s really allowed in until your TA – Jaehyun, basically – lets you.

Jung Jaehyun, AKA “God who has literally descended from the Heavens to bless your undeserving soul”, smiles at you and – aw, yeah, there it is. That fucking dimple. Paired with his soft, unassuming smile, and the reassuring warmth of his eyes as they look at you through the soft fringe of his hair—

Deadly. That’s what he is.

“Hey ______, how’s it going?” He greets cheerily, not unlike Jungwoo earlier. The only difference is that it’s actually a humane hour of the day right now; a little past noon as opposed to oh, you know, the crack of dawn. You still hate any and all sunlight, no doubt about it – especially with the night lending itself to your element – but at least you’re somewhat awake now.

Jaehyun fiddles with the keyhole before pushing the door open. Is a lab coat supposed to look this good on a person? You aren’t sure.

“It’s pretty meh.” You offer him a shrug and what you hope is not a dorky smile. “Just stressed, you know.”

“Oh, I figured.” He nods, raising an eyebrow. “Apparently Professor Kim’s being super hard on you guys for this first midterm and, I won’t lie, with her past record…” Jaehyun winces. “Yeah, things might be a little stressful. But you’re capable, and I know you can do it with the right amount of hard work and effort.”

Then, like he hasn’t just sprung an unwarranted pep talk on what’s left of your dreary soul, he disappears behind the door. You stare at it like it’ll give you the answers racing through your mind; what the fuck, how the hell does he know exactly what to say, how the fuck is he always so gorgeous…? etcetera, etcetera.

Immediately, you pull out your phone and text F/N.

You:

Oh my fucking god, I think Jaehyun and I just had a moment

Not like a Moment but he literally just gave me the best pep talk in my life, 5 stars on yelp

Jaehyun’s my TA btw

Checking the time, you impatiently rock forward on the balls of your feet, biting at your lips. You figure that, maybe, instead of constantly thinking about how gorgeous Jaehyun is, you should probably also start thinking about the experiment for today. It’s just some simple identification tests, thank goodness, but those could take a long time – especially if you have to share your resources with the rest of the class.

Sharing is caring, they say and they’re wrong. Sharing, in most cases, is essentially just shooting yourself in the foot, and you’ll stand by that until the end of time. You used to share everything – even your heart – after all, and where did that get you?

You shove all of that away, filing it into the mental Untouchable cabinet and locking it up. You’re a busy person now, and you can’t waste time delving into the past. For all your bravado and bluster, though, you just… sometimes feel like you always make the worst decisions for yourself and you’re just tired of having to put yourself through the same things again and again. Like – like clockwork.

The door cracks open, and Jaehyun pokes his head outside. “Huh, that’s weird. No one else is here yet?”

A quick glance around you shows you that no, there really isn’t anyone else here yet. What the fuck? You check your phone, though, and see you still have ten minutes before lab actually begins. Ah, yeah, that makes a lot more sense now.

“You can come in anyway.” Jaehyun grins at you charmingly, and you dimly wonder if he knows the effect he has on people, with how easily he throws that smile around. “Maybe get set up? You can’t start before the rest of your class is here, obviously, but you can still be prepared.”

“Of course!” You beam at him, a little shocked at how easy it is to smile at him. With how things have been going, with both your personal life and – ehem – line of work, this is actually nothing short of a miracle.

Jaehyun really is a great guy and you think to yourself, a little sadly, that whoever gets to date him is a really lucky person. It’s not like you expect for life to work out like a fairytale with you as the persevering royal protagonist who gets the prince she’s only ever dreamed of.

Oh, you wish though. Sometimes, you even wish you had the power to make wishes come true instead of the shadow manipulation that comes so easily to you. When you think about it, you immediately discard the thought; you’re happy with your Gift, though it does get a little tricky navigating its faults.

Faults that Joker took advantage of over the weekend, obviously. You seriously screwed that one up though, to be fair, you kind of had to get home pronto to finish up your biology lab report. Still, a screw up is, ultimately, a screw up. It’s not going to change just because you slapped some excuses onto it.

Your fingers spasm, clenching tightly around your lab notebook and digging into its spiral binding as you remember, all too vividly, what happened over the weekend; the way Joker just slid out of your bindings and smirked at you, lips brushing against your ear as he revealed it was all a lie—

The spiking pain in your hand forces you to let go of your book, allowing it to drop onto the table with a muffled thump. It was all your fault, really, for not realizing that, since Joker had a Gift that allowed him to make illusions, he would obviously take advantage of it to distract you.

You were such a fucking idiot.

“Hey.” Your lab partner slides into the seat beside yours, effectively distracting you from thinking about your Weekend Failure some more. “Please tell me that I’m not the only one who thinks that the data for this lab report was ridiculous.”

“You’re not.” A light smile pulls at your lips and you try to forget about everything else. “It was pretty crazy.”

It’s not until you step out of lab a few hours later, blinking the sun out of your eyes, that you see that F/N’s finally responded to your texts.

Wifey!! <3:

i’m glad he was so kind to you!

and yeah babe, i think you’d realize i know who Jaehyun is by now

you’ve only mentioned him a billion times

you’re such a puppy

You:

He was really nice man, he made me feel like I could actually do this

I mean idk how long it’ll last but it’s nice of him to even try ;-;

And I think you’d realize I know I’m a puppy by now

You’ve only told me, like, a billion times

Let it be said that you’re never one to let the opportunity to be petty go to waste.

A week later, you’re sprinting up the street between your favorite Thai place and the café F/N likes to frequent, short puffs of breath escaping your lungs into the cold night air. Your worn sneakers slap against the concrete as you try to find a secluded location for you to change covertly into more appropriate ‘crime-fighting’ clothing, when your frantic gaze lands on a relatively abandoned alleyway.

Key word: ‘relatively’, because there’s really only a cat in there, of course.

“Fuck yeah!” You whisper triumphantly under your breath, stepping into the shadows cast by the nightlights, letting their familiar chill wash over you, twist its way around your waist and seep under your skin, a comfortable, cool pressure—

And you’re out again, a couple of blocks ahead of where you started, and sprint up the street, jumping shadows to the second floor of a building, from where you see figure flying overhead.

You smirk. Right on time.

“Hey! Mind giving me a lift?!” You holler up, and with a flick of his wrist, you’re being lifted off your feet, propelled to the very top of the building. A grin pulls at the corner of your mouth, and you give in as you zip along after the figure ahead, who’s dressed in dark blue. “Thanks G!”

Gravitas – Mark – spares a look at you through his mask as he runs ahead, leaping gracefully over to the next building. “Hey Caligo!”

A grin pulls at the corner of your lips through your own mask, fully visible since it only extends to the bridge of your nose. He wants to play it like that, does he?

“Impressive, but you’ve got nothing on me!” You arch in a graceful backflip over the gap between the buildings, landing steadily on your feet.

Mark chuckles lightly at you, shaking his head when you skip ahead of him through the shadows. Like you aren’t going to wring out every advantage your Gift could possibly give you; there’s no way you’re letting him have the satisfaction of possibly being better than you.

“See anyone we need to beat up?” You slow your pace enough for him to run beside you, not needing to shout to be heard.

Mark’s mask covers his entire face, but you’re pretty sure you know the look he’s got on his face right now; that little dip between his eyebrows and the lightest pout on his lips. He’s really too predictable.

“We aren’t looking for people to beat up.” He corrects you. “We’re looking for people to save.”

You come to a stop so you can face him properly, hands settling on your hips. The seriousness of the situation doesn’t stop you from keeping the playfulness from your voice, though, forced as it might sound.

“Now that’s the mind of a future hero-in-the-making.” You shrug, mouth pursing into a tense smile. “The rest of us don’t really care so much about that, you know.”

Mark falters, nearly tripping over himself even though he’s slowed to a walk. “That isn’t what I was trying to imply, you know that.”

“I know.” You provide him with another half-shrug. “I’m just saying that I’m here to beat people up; you can call it saving people or whatever else satisfies your hero-complex but, at the end of the day, someone’s still getting beat.”

No matter how close the two of you are, this is an age old argument that neither of you have been able to shake off; the constant debate of vigilantism versus heroism. At the end of the day, you’re getting the same things done, so why Mark needs to get so prickly about it is beyond you.

He is training to be a hero – which you’ve grudgingly accepted, despite your misgivings – so that might be it. Unlike you, he’s always interested in those caped fantasies, in saving the day and happy endings. Even he has to admit it; Mark is the definition of a happy fool.

And you? Well, that’d make you the tortured genius – though there’s nothing particularly genius about you. Just tortured.

“At the end of the day, we’re still saving people too.” Mark’s voice is low, brittle. “We’ve talked about this before.”

“And we’ve always ended it the same way.” You force yourself to keep your calm, though you itch to blow up at him. “So what makes this time so different?”

Mark starts forward, about to answer, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice. A very unwelcome voice.

“Hope I’m not interrupting!”

There’s a muffled thump, like someone’s landing on their feet, as you slowly turn around, eyes growing wide behind your mask.

Decked out in a tight-fitting leather bodysuit and a black choker, which delicately circles his neck, he looks at you with dancing, mischievous eyes. The black eye mask that sculpts itself to his face prevents you from being able figure out who the man behind the mask is, but that isn’t your priority right now, because you know who this is, standing in front of you with that cheeky grin.

“Joker.”

Written By: Midnight

The amazing moodboard was done by Sangria! Blessed that I am to have such a perfect wife <3

Next: 02

#kwritersworldnet #kreativewritersnet #nctwriters #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #nct jaehyun #villain jaehyun #nct jung jaehyun #villain jung jaehyun #jaehyun series #will i update consistently? let's find out

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liljungie · 5 years

Text

Young Blood | Mafia AU

▸Pairing : Jimin ↮ Reader ↮ Taehyung.

▸ ！warnings！= !mentions of domestic violence!

▸Word count: 3k

▸ Part three : ❝ Ties that bind ❞

▸Masterlist

A/N: can you Please leave me kind messages? I really need it rn...LITERALLY anything.

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You step aside after opening the door for jimin who carefully places your daughter in her carseat."You know where to find me if you change your mind" jimin tells you walking back to the apartment complex leaving you alone with your racing mind without sparing you a glance. You refused his offer. The risk is high and you didn't want to put your daughter's life on the line so you turned jimin down.

You shut the door a bit louder than you intended out of frustration and made your way to the other side of the car to start driving home.

Your phone battery died a long time ago and you started to prepare yourself mentally for taehyung's fight match. But it was only 1 am you doubt that he'll be home this early. Regardless you knew an argument is going to happen because you didn't pick up any of his calls. Although it made you wonder why his guards didn't bust thorough jimin's apartment you had Luna's tracking device on her so surely it altered taehyung on her whereabouts...but maybe that's why he didn't came in like a hurricane.

You reached for the tracking device in the back carefully taking it out of Luna's front pocket to your sheer horror the device battery was dead. You curse under your breath tossing it at the backseat out of anger. Nothing seems to go how you want it to and it was so frustrating. Your driving pace picked up and you were out of the crowded city in a blink of an eye.

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Carrying Luna in one hand and opening the door with the other was a task you couldn't master. Eventually the door opened you didn't know if it was for how you cursed at it or because you kept jamming in the key hoping it works. but it was finally open.

You gently lay her down on her little bed, you take off her shoes and pull the covers tucking her in. You shut her bedroom door and sigh of relief that she didn't wake up at all.

Your little one was getting so big that you were craving a glass of water after carrying her. So you made your way to the kitchen but your walking came to a halt when you saw your husband casually sitting on the couch that faced the staircase. "Welcome home...took you long enough" taehyung remarks you sigh walking down the last few steps that were left. "Taehyung please luna is sleeping let's not do this" you tell him begging him with your eyes that he doesn't start a riot at this hour of the night.

"Where were you and why the fuck is your tracking device still here when you're out God knows where!" He yelled taking you by surprise as he stood up from the seat towering over you with a death stare.

"Relax...we came back in one piece there's no need for any of this" you say walking past him to the kitchen to have that glass of water however he yanks you so you're facing him again "weren't you the one who was afraid of something bad happening and what do you do? You go without the one thing that could bring you back!" He shouts "tell me how the hell am I supposed to know where you or my baby are if something were to happen!" You pull your arm away from his grip "nothing happened so chill out!" You roll your eyes trying to walk away from him "for the record I took Luna's tracking device" you reassure as you fill up the glass with water. You could see steam coming out of his ears. Taehyung was livid "then why the fuck don't I see it on here huh?" He points to his smart watch that he tracks the devices from.

Crap it completely slipped from your mind you swallow the lump in your throat "the battery died" you bite your lip. If taehyung was mad a minute ago now he'll skin you alive. He takes the glass from your hand slamming it in the sink "are you out of your damn mind!" He walks forward and you walk backwards afraid of colliding with him. "What if you or our fucking girl gets kidnapped huh?!...what the fuck will I do then? You'll blame me for it you'll say that I didn't protect her you'll hate me for not being a good fucking father you'll curse me for losing our child you'll blame me for everything! When it's your fucking fault" he snaps you avoid looking in his eyes "I won't blame you for anything! we were just in the city...it's not far away I'm just as careful as you are over her..trust me" you tell him softly.

"What were you doing in the city? for fuck's sake that's where all the other gangs hideouts are" he groans walking away from you while rubbing his temples, you were giving him all different types of headaches...new ones that got on every nerve of his. Deep down you'll admit you were so dumb for not charging Luna's tracking device you didn't know what you'll do with yourself if something happened to her because of your mind slipping.

"Would you Please stop...I went to visit a friend-" you hesitate to speak but you knew taehyung won't get off your back until he's satisfied with an answer "a friend?" He raises his eyebrow tapping his bottom lip with his pointer finger, he sighs while brushing his hair back "a friend?!" He laughs "you're supposed to be dead to them! What fucking friend!" He yells not believing how naively you were acting. Risking your and your daughter's life for seeing 'a friend'.

"It's jimin" you say his eyes snap back up when he hears jimin's name roll out of your mouth "Luna wanted to see jimin so I took her to h-" he cuts you off "bullshit!" He graps you by your throat slamming you against the wall. You shudder at the suddenness as you choke on your breath. "Tell me what's going on between you and Jimin and this is the last time I ask nicely!" He shouts you squirm in your spot "n-nothing!" He pulls you forward only to slam you against the wall again and you let out a cry "I said tell me!" His voice booms through the mansion making the hair on your body stand.

His grip on your neck was suffocating that your eyes started to roll to the back of your head, you could see death standing behind taehyung's back, lurking.

You found little strength left in you and started to hit taehyung's hand hoping that your punches were strong enough to knock his arm off of you. Tears roll down your cheeks you eyes were going to pop out of their sockets every little vain in them was burning red that taehyung himself saw how your eyes was gonna lose their light if he held you the way he's holding you a minute longer. For a brief second he didn't want to let go "Daddy you're killing her!" A little voice shouted.

Both of your heads turned towards a sobbing Luna standing on the staircase holding out her little arms. Something in taehyung snaps and he pulls away from you too quick that you fall to the floor dying to breathe Luna runs to you crying and whimpering. She calls out your name softly while holding your head in her lap as she wipes away your tears. "Mommy don't leave me please mommy wake up please-" she cries louder when you don't reply to her.

the wind returns to your lungs and you hug your daughter as you cry in her lap and she cradles you in her arms crying with you but of relief.

On the other hand Taehyung never hated himself as much as he do now, seeing his daughter and you in that state, the guilt was eating him up so painfully that he couldn't stay here to hear your sobs or how Luna as little as she is tell you that it'll be okay. She's too young to witness all of this. The last thing taehyung wanted is for his children to live how he lived. In an environment like this. Watching his parents fight and hurt each other and hurting others not to mention running a mafia gang to top it all off. It's all apart of taehyung now it's his roots and it's who he is Although he doesn't want Luna to grow up and be exactly like...him.

After taehyung was out of sight you sat up cradling your daughter in your arms as you wipe away your tears and trying to calm Luna down her sniffles were tugging on your heart strings and it just hurt you a lot you kissed the top of her head while getting up and started walking towards her room you made sure to lock the door then you got in and cuddled with Luna in her tiny bed drifting off to sleep. Hoping to God that you don't relive what you just went through in your dreams.

When your eyes flutter open again the sun was shining through the big window, it was quite and peaceful Luna's short breaths were the only sound you heard along with the chirping birds outside...you wished it was always this peaceful. Just you and your babygirl. No taehyung no mafia no father in law trying to kidnap your baby and no long lost love that was still hanging in the air not knowing if you should follow it or let go. Seems like you were chasing the clouds.

You got up and walked to the little dresser, taehyung's grip colored your skin with deep purple and blue marks you winced when you traced them gently you sigh as you look away from your reflection. Too ashamed to look at who you've become.

Weak. Miserable. You became your worst nightmare and that's when you started crying again. You place your hands on your mouth to muffle the sound of your cries. This is not how you imagined your life would be. This is not the life you worked so hard for. This is not the life you deserved. But then again...you killed. You tortured people you hunted down groups and ambushed places and spilled blood like it was water... like the people you killed didn't have a family waiting for them to come back home,maybe this was your karma. For all your wrong doings.

But no human could ever bare such burdens. You knew that if you kept suppressing all that hurt all that anger all that sadness all that pain you'd never survive long enough to see Luna's prom dress...hell you weren't sure if you'll be there for when she starts going to school with taehyung's behavior and your relationship with him ripping in sherds and taehyung is catching up with you and jimin...everything is starting to crumble beneath your feet and all you're able to do is sit back and watch.

You couldn't fight back, there's nothing left for you...you care about and love Luna but you're not being a good mother to her or so that's what you're starting to think. You deserved what taehyung did to you last night. how could you forget to charge her tracking device! Why were you that reckless in the first place? is getting to jimin was all that was on your mind? That everything else didn't matter... what would you do if you returned and she wasn't with jimin?

You shake your head when you hear Luna walking around in the room. You need to be strong...just a little longer until you find a way out...an escape...a golden ticket to freedom. For you and your daughter and if you couldn't escape you wanted to save her. You want her to live a peaceful life you want her to marry a man or a woman she's in love with. you want a normal job for her a job that doesn't involve killing and stealing and being the dirts of the earth.

The one thing that you did right was having her. And you're not planning on ruining it.

You splash your face with cold water and head towards your sleepy baby you pick her up and place her in your lap. Brushing her hair behind her ears "good morning princess" you tell her softly kissing her chubby cheeks "mornin mommy" she says in pout making you hold her tighter in your arms. "My cutie...how did I get so lucky!" You kiss her cheeks and forehead and anywhere you can as she giggles in your arms and squirms..her laughter was music to your ears. You felt much better after hearing her laugh and seeing her smile. After last night...the way she was crying made your heart bend and break.

"Don't you want breakfast?" You ask her. She nods furiously "please...I want froothoops" she tells you "frootloops?" You ask giggling "yea that!" She smiles you laugh "let's go prepare it then yeah?" You place her on the ground and she runs to the door waiting for you to unlock it you smile and do so and watch her run infront of you. Too excited to have breakfast. Oh how you miss the day where your biggest problem was what to eat for breakfast...

You pour the milk in and Luna insists that she's a big girl now and can pour the cereal without spilling it all over the kitchen island and you agree after a lot of begging of course. She actually pours it in the plate and not twenty feet away from it. You smile proudly at her and praise her then you place her in her baby chair and go over to start the coffee machine.

While the coffee is brewing and Luna is too busy on her learning apps you hit the call button pressing the phone to your ear.

"Hello?"

"...is the offer still available?"

"What offer?..."

"Jimin...let's runway...you , me and Luna"

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29-pieces · 4 years

Text

Whumptober day 6 - The Musketeers

Day 6: No More Fandom/Setting: The Musketeers, pre-series (new recruit!Athos) read on AO3 read on FF.net

~*~

Athos could smell the blood as he pushed into the tiny cell ahead of the other musketeer, a burly brawler named Porthos. It boded poorly for the man they'd been sent to find. Though the careful blankness of his expression never shifted, Athos couldn't help but pause as he took in the sight of the prisoner.

Porthos, in contrast, shoved past him with a cry.

"Aramis! Aramis... God, don' be dead, please don' be dead..."

Athos raised a hand to his mouth and forced himself to remain calm and in control. He'd only worked closely with Aramis once, long enough to know the man as a perpetually cheerful if somewhat roguish lover of life, the constant center of attention, ready with a quip or a fight depending on the situation. Athos had few, if any, friends; he could have seen himself befriending this one. It didn't seem he would have the opportunity now.

"Help me cut 'im down," Porthos snapped, drawing Athos back to the present moment. "We gotta stop the bleeding. Stitch 'im up, maybe. Something."

Biting back his fear that it was too late for Aramis, Athos nevertheless moved in swiftly to help Porthos, supporting Aramis's weight as the taller musketeer drew a dagger to slice through the rope holding Aramis's arms high overhead. Athos moved to set him carefully on the floor, but Porthos scooped him up instead.

"Not in here," Porthos bit out. "Outside. I've got him, just keep our path clear."

Again, Athos bit back any remark. He had the impression that the two were close, and since he himself knew the feeling of finding a beloved brother already dead, he also knew there were no words of comfort to be had. Though they had already dispatched all of the guards, Athos nevertheless drew his sword again and led the way from the dungeons and out of the castle. None of the household staff dared show themselves and the Comte himself had yet to be seen. This, Athos knew, was not good. Soon there would be awkward questions they would have to consider.

After all, Aramis had been meeting with a Spanish spy, and the castle was a mere handful of miles to the border. The identity of a traitor and spy was valuable information. And Aramis, though a musketeer with an obviously loyal heart, had to have a breaking point like any other man.

"Where's his horse?" Porthos grunted once they'd reached the sweeping lawn out back where they had left their mounts. Aramis's had been found wandering on its own, though Athos gave Porthos an incredulous stare. Clearly Aramis wasn't riding anywhere, unless it was in the back of a cart headed for a cemetery. Perhaps Porthos read this on his face, because he snarled, "His horse, damn it! I need his bag! An' we need water, somethin' to wash these cuts out!"

"Porthos..."

"He's alive. I, uh... I ain't ever stitched anyone up before. You?"

Athos regarded the bloody mess of a musketeer that Porthos laid carefully down on the ground. "Once or twice. But-"

"Good. He's got a medical kit he keeps in th' saddlebags, dig that out. I'll get the water."

Athos watched him lumber off. He still had his doubts, but he had to admit, Porthos's ferocious faith that Aramis would still make it out of this urged him to try anyway. Rifling through the spare horse's saddlebags, Athos retrieved a leather pouch which he unrolled to reveal some of the more basic medical instruments. Also in the bag was a swath of bandages and clean rags, which he likewise retrieved. Kneeling over the unconscious musketeer, Athos looked him over helplessly, not sure where to even begin. It looked like mostly cuts and gashes from a blade, deep and nasty, and almost all would require sutures. He saw at least one burn and three broken fingers. Aramis's left shoulder was clearly dislocated.

Getting his doublet off would be a good start, but would jostle the arm too much. Athos regarded the limb, then took Aramis's arm.

"Apologies," he murmured to the unconscious musketeer, before swiftly pulling until he heard the pop of a bone returning to socket.

Aramis's eyes flew open as a garbled cry was ripped from his throat. The musketeer immediately began to thrash back from Athos, arms flailing in an attempt to protect himself. Athos grabbed Aramis's wrists in fear that the musketeer would only cause more damage to himself.

"Aramis," he called. "You're safe. It's me... Athos."

"Aramis?" Porthos had returned, carrying a bucket of water he'd procured, some of which sloshed out over the downed musketeer as Porthos flung himself by his friend's side. "Hey... hey, you're with me, you're alright."

Aramis sank back down, staring up at them through pain-glazed eyes. "Porthos," he whispered.

"Yeah, it's me. We're gonna fix you right up, okay?"

Aramis nodded, then his head drifted back to the side, eyes falling closed. Athos traded a look with Porthos over his still form, but neither spoke. Together, they worked Aramis's doublet off—it would need a myriad of repairs as well, if he survived to wear it again—and surveyed the mess. Athos retrieved the needle and thread from the medic pouch as Porthos started washing the blood away.

"Damn, he's lost a lot of it," Porthos growled. "When I get my hands on that Comte..."

"There isn't time for that," Athos reminded him as he pinched one freshly cleaned gouge together and set the needle to skin in determination. "I can sew these wounds, but we should consider the possibility that Treville needs to be warned."

Porthos stopped what he was doing to stare at him. "Warned about what?"

He really didn't want to be the one to acknowledge the risk, but if Porthos didn't then he would. "What cause would there be to torture him like this if not for the name of the spy he was sent to meet? The Comte must have learned about his mission somehow-"

"An' you think Aramis told him?"

There was a dangerous rumble in Porthos's voice, so Athos offered a deferential shrug. "I'm only saying, no one can be expected to hold out forever, no matter how loyal, and this- Porthos, they spent a lot of time on him."

"I know yer new here," Porthos seethed, jaw clenching. "An' you don't know Aramis like I do. He didn't give 'em anything. Got it?"

Torn between admiration of the loyalty and exasperation at the frank denial, Athos only nodded and went back to sewing Aramis up. He couldn't tell if Aramis was awake or not, breaths shuddering and lids closed, but if he was awake he didn't make a sound. It took what must have been hours, until Athos's hand was starting to cramp from holding the needle, back aching as he stitched as well as he could. Doubtless these would leave visible scars—he had only a rudimentary idea of how to do this, nothing fancy. But at least Aramis wouldn't bleed out from them. This done, Athos splinted the broken fingers together to be looked at when they returned to Paris and simply put a bandage over the burn, as there was no healing ointment on hand.

"What else?" he asked in exhaustion, starting to roll Aramis back onto his side to check for further injury.

The movement jostled the tortured musketeer, who inhaled sharply with a pained cough.

"No more..."

"Aramis," Porthos murmured, sounding pained himself. "I know it hurts, but we gotta make sure there's nothin' open for infection, right?"

Eyes still closed, Aramis nodded. "No more," he repeated, a little stronger.

Athos felt his shoulders grow heavy and he shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, a rare slip of emotion and regret coloring his tone. "I believe we're almost done and then you can-"

"No... there's no more," Aramis cut him off, opening his eyes with a wince. "You got them all. I c-counted. That's all they ever managed to do."

Athos stared at him. "...That's... all?" he echoed in disbelief. There had been enough blood to drown a village in that cell, yards of thread needed to finish all the stitches, but that was "all" they'd done to him? He saw Porthos barely bite back a smirk, but in this case Athos would be more than happy to have been proven wrong.

"What did they want?" the burly musketeer asked his friend now, cupping the back of his neck carefully.

Aramis coughed. "Wanted to know who I was meeting. I don't know how word got out."

Athos traded a look with Porthos. "And...?"

"And nothing. They thought they could convince me to tell them." He snorted. "Amateurs."

Porthos laughed, relief and fondness evident in the gentle squeeze of Aramis's good shoulder. "Good thing we found you, then," he said gleefully. "Before they died of embarrassment."

"Good thing," Aramis agreed. "Was s-starting to get bored." Nevertheless, his eyes were still pained as he gripped both of their arms and didn't try to move. "Thank you."

Athos found himself smiling, not something he often did. These were men he could get used to being around, he decided. "Let's not make a repeat of this though, alright?" he dryly suggested, to be met with a tired chuckle from Aramis.

"No," the musketeer agreed, closing his eyes. "No, no more."

#whumptober2020 #no.6 #no more #the musketeers #fanfiction #BBC musketeers #Aramis whump #Porthos and Athos to the rescue #sorry Aramis #pre-Inseperables #blood #torture happens off screen

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mi-ma-mo · 4 years

Text

Eye-shiteru

Character(s): Date Kaname, Aiba, Amanoma Futa (Pewter) and Kuranushi Shizue (Boss).

Ratings: T for Teen and up audiences

Summary: Date meets Aiba for the first time. It’s weird.

Author’s Note: The events described in this fic may differ from their actual meeting in-game. I just LOVE Aiba and AI in general, so I wanted to explore this part of the game a bit more. There are spoilers if you squint.

Read it here or on AO3. Enjoy!

“The official title is "AI-Ball". You may call her Aiba.”

Date stared at the round device in the palm of Pewter’s hand. He didn’t have the best view on it from where he was standing but it sure looked to be an eyeball.

“The artificial intelligence contained within this sphere is nothing short of miraculous,” Pewter continued. The scientist was always excited to talk, but today he seemed to be in even higher spirits as he presented his proudest creation yet. “An autonomous artificial intelligence, birthed from collective nanotechnology. Its ability to "think" is controlled by a program we call the Wadjet System.”

Date was listening. Of course he was! But as Pewter rambled on about the device in his hand, Date couldn’t help but have some concerns about it going from Pewter’s hand straight into his eye socket. Would that be sanitary?

“Special Agent Date, from today forward, this is your partner. She will be your personal computer and your personal companion.”

Nodding, Date carefully picked up the device between his thumb and forefinger. He studied it for a moment. The “iris” was yellow, different from his green right eye. That… was kind of hot, right? He thought he remembered reading somewhere that women find heterochromia extremely attractive. His sources for these kinds of things were reliable of course. The trivia pages of porno magazines hadn’t let him down before, except maybe that one time–

Date immediately lost his train of thought and almost dropped the eye when it suddenly moved up to look at him. The “pupil” adjusted in size to focus on him and it was then that Date actual felt the weight of the device he was holding in his hand. If he had wanted to be more attractive to women any prosthetic eye in a different colour than his biological one would have sufficed, but now he was signing up for so much more.

He had butterflies in his stomach, but they were from nerves or excitement he couldn’t tell. Maybe it was both? He spared a glance at Pewter who was smiling at him as if to be saying ‘Go on’.

“Not to be rude, but is this–” “Sanitary? Yes, of course. You see–”

Date zoned out for the long and winded explanation that followed. Something about some kind of gel being bacterial- and virus-resistant, pH-neutral, and giving the device freedom of movement as well. Date was unsure about what Pewter meant with that last part, but he decided against asking any follow-up questions about it. He was more focused on the eye itself and how it seemed to study him as much as he was studying it.

“Well, upsy-daisy,” Date said as he finally lifted the device and attempted to pop it into his eye socket.

The eye went in surprisingly easy despite him not having any experience with prosthetic eyes. Once the eye seemed to be settled in place a few things happened in quick succession.

A small shock wave was sent through his nervous system without warning. It wasn’t painful, but it did make his hair stand on end. Then, immediately after, something alien to him happened.

The AI-Ball adjusted its “pupil” and for the very first time Date experienced depth perception. He had taught himself to live around his inability to correctly estimate distance, but this… He had no idea just how much he had been missing out on.

Looking at Pewter now Date was reminded of pop-up picture books. There was no other way for him to describe just how much of a difference his newfound depth perception made. Of course, his overall vision had improved too. He felt a slight headache coming up just from the information overload.

And then, suddenly, a clear female voice spoke in his mind.

[ Hello. My name is Aiba. What is your name? ]

Admittedly, it took Date an embarrassingly long time to form a simple reply. “My name is Kaname Date. Nice to meet you, Aiba.”

[ It’s nice to meet you too, Date. There is much I have to discuss with you, but for now, I will have Pewter do the talking for me. ]

Aiba had barely finished her sentence before Pewter began yet another spiel, this time about how Date wouldn’t have to speak out loud to be heard by Aiba. These were all things Date had heard before, Pewter had given him a rundown with every new feature he developed, but this time he did do his best to listen. Being able to speak with each other without actually needing to exchange words was perhaps the most convenient perk of his new eye.

Pewter also gave Date a rundown on how to take care of Aiba. For some reason, it came as a surprise to him that she would have to be charged just like any other electronic device. Everything else Pewter had told him about her sounded so high-tech that he had assumed Aiba could recharge just by getting a few hours of sunlight or something. He sure hoped he would never get in a situation in which Aiba’s battery would die at the most crucial moment.

Then came the paperwork. There was so much of it. Pewter sat him down and made him read and agree to all of it. The ink pad for his Hanko seal was going to be dried up by the time he had stamped every page that asked for his signature. It was a boring yet necessary task that left him with enough time to think and ask some questions.

[ I’m sorry for exposing you to all this boring paperwork right of the bet. My life is more exciting than this usually, ] Date thought to Aiba. [ Can you hear all my thoughts or just the ones I want you to hear? ]

[ Unknown. You do not appear to be thinking much, if at all. ] The clear female voice he had heard before replied.

“Excuse me?!” Date said out loud, startling Pewter who was sitting right beside him and had been reading along.

[ You are excused. ]

“Is something the matter?” Pewter asked. “If you would like me to explain something that is written here I can.”

Date shook his head and continued reading. Who did Aiba think she was?

[ I’m me. ]

Well… that at least answered his question from earlier.

“Say Pewter, it seems Aiba can hear my thoughts regardless if they are targeted to her or not. Would you say that is a feature or a bug?”

No sooner had Date asked that question or Pewter and Aiba shouted ‘It’s not a bug!’ in unison, something which was no small feat as they currently couldn’t hear each other. Despite the ringing in his ears (and brain?), Date let out a hearty laugh.

“I’m only kidding. It is of no concern to me if that is one of Aiba’s…” Date paused for dramatic effect, “features. I trust you and this technology, so I don’t consider this an invasion of my privacy. That’s what all this paperwork is about, right?”

Date gestured at all the papers that still needed his seal of approval. He was aware you needed to be a certain kind of person to be able to agree to essentially having a person (be it an artificial one) share your brain space with you. If he were to believe Pewter and all the legal stuff in these papers than his thoughts and memories would be stored safely in the cloud connected to the Wadjet System.

While this would freak almost anyone out, Date found a sort of comfort in it. Having his eyesight back was nice and of course having an AI partner would come in handy for his job, but the knowledge that he could have his memories stored away safety had unknowingly played the biggest part in him agreeing to do this. If he were to lose his memory again, then at the very least not all of him would be lost this time.

“Well, yes. It would be a lie if I didn’t say most of these papers concern your privacy, but there’s a bit more nuance to it than just that. I don’t think you can put a price tag on life-changing technology like this. That being said, this is a rather large business expense for just one individual. That’s why I was gone to speak with the higher-ups that often, to explain to them that this would be for everyone’s benefit.”

Pewter sounded tired as he said that. He looked tired as he said that. Date had asked him many times before if he should come with for these dreaded discussions, but every time Pewter had waved him off and said something along the lines of him lacking the knowledge on the technologies in question to turn the conversation around.

It felt only right then to place a hand on Pewter’s shoulder. Surely Pewter could feel Date’s manly gratitude from that manly shoulder touch alone. Pewter’s tired expression softened into a slight smile.

[ I suggest expressing your gratitude in words as well. We live in a society in which men being open and expressing their feelings is looked down upon. This needs to change. ]

Date nodded as he considered Aiba’s point. Pewter was still smiling at him, but his eyebrows started to furrow as the awkward silence between them dragged on.

“Pewter…” Date finally began, struggling to find the right words. “There’s something on my mind I’ve been meaning to say. All this time I have been thinking…”

Date tilted his head with a sly smile. He let go of Pewter’s shoulder and pointed at his new eye in one smooth motion. “This is totally hot, right?”

Never before had Pewter looked more puzzled, which said a lot considering he was one of the leading detectives and scientist of ABIS. The abnormal was their normal.

“You mean Aiba? She should be matching the temperature of your body. It’s no good if she’s too hot, please take her out immediately.”

[ It is as Pewter says. I am matching your temperature to the dot. What seems to be the problem? ]

Date waved his hand before crossing his arms; what a tough crowd. “No, not that. The heterochromia! Women find it extremely attractive. I would say my charm has increased by 25– no, 50%!”

[ Affirmative. Heterochromia is an eye condition that is quite rare in the human species but is desired by many. ]

[ What? Really?! Maybe with this Reika from the cabaret club and I can– ]

“I can’t speak for all women or any woman for that matter, but I do see the appeal,” Petwer admitted, rolling his desk chair back to its usual spot behind his PC as he spoke. “Regardless, if you can make jokes like that then you must be feeling fine. After you’ve worked through that paperwork we’ll do a few scans and tests to make sure everything is as it should be. If you will excuse me, I have some work to do.”

Date watched as Pewter rapidly entered a seemingly random string of characters to unlock his PC. How the scientist got his insanely long password right first try each time was without a doubt the biggest secret between ABIS’ walls. Date returned to his paperwork for a few moments before interrupting Pewter’s work just once.

“Hey Pewter, thank you. Really.”

After all the paperwork from Date’s side had been dealt with and the scans and tests Pewter had put Date and Aiba through had turned up no complications, they had been told to take the rest of the day off. Boss had been very clear that they had to acclimate to each other, and although Date wasn’t one to ever go a day without working overtime, he thought it wouldn’t be bad to go home early today.

The walk from headquarters to the spot he had parked his car had felt strangely alien to Date. All his surroundings had a new layer of depth to them, both literally and figuratively. He had been staring at the blossom tree he had parked his car under for quite some time when the clear female voice he was gradually getting used to spoke up in his mind.

[ It’s beautiful. ]

“…I agree, but I must say,” Date spoke as he moved his gaze from the tree to his car. “I could do without all the flower petals on my windshield.”

He began sweeping away the flower petals with his gloved hand, but not all of them felt like cooperating. The ones with a little moister on them stuck to the glass as if hanging on for dear life and got ripped in half as he passed over them. He used a gentler touch to remove those.

Pinching one of the last of the petals between his dumb and forefinger, Date was reminded of how he had held Aiba in much the same way earlier today. Her inner parts were probably just as delicate as this blossom, but he hadn’t considered that while handling her.

[ Not to fret, I am not as delicate as you think. I’ve been put through many pressure tests to guarantee your safety. ]

“What about your safety? What if I dropped you and stepped on you by accident?”

[ I would probably not suffer any damages in a scenario as such, but even if I would your safety and that of other humans would take priority over mine. You must be familiar with the Three Laws of Robotics, yes? ]

“Remind me?”

[ One: a robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Two: a robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. Three: a robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws. I am an artificial intelligence and not a robot, but these rules also apply to me. ]

“Hmm…” Date hummed, quickly disposing of the last petals that would get in the way while driving. “If possible I will try to avoid putting you in situations in which you have to prioritize my safety above your own. This line of work comes with its fair amount of dangers, though, so no promises.”

[ …The thought is appreciated. ]

The car ride home itself was pretty uneventful safe from the fact that Date had a far easier time keeping the correct distance from cars before him. He rhythmically tapped the fingers of his right hand on the steering wheel while remaining concentrated on the road.

If Aiba had any questions for him, then she wasn’t speaking up to ask them. That was fine, Date was tired after today away. It would take him some time to get used to all the new stimuli Aiba was giving him. He wondered if he should take her out later, much like how people with glasses would take these off after work in the evening hours.

Coming home rather early, Date was able to find a nice parking spot near his studio. It was just something small, but he didn’t take it for granted. Usually, when he was coming home late there would be almost no parking spots left in his block, meaning he would almost always go for an unintended evening walk.

[ That’s where I live. You’ll see it’s not much, just a place to sleep and eat, but I do like it, ] Date thought to Aiba as he looked up at the building.

[ Home address saved to my database. Tomorrow morning I can calibrate the fastest route to Tokyo MPD. ]

[ You can do that? Neat. ]

After unlocking the front door Date opened his mailbox to find a bunch of unopened mail. He might have forgotten to take his mail out for a few days. One envelop fell out of the mailbox, but he was able to catch it in mid-air with surprising precision. Odd, he didn’t remember being able to do that before.

Date gathered the mail and quickly looked through it as he made his way up the stairs. To his relieve it was mostly junk mail. It all went straight into the trash after he had unlocked the door to his studio, but he did hold onto one thing.

He was smiling from ear to ear as he studied the flyer for a special event at Sunfish Pocket. The (mer)maids would be doing a special show involving dance and song, probably to attract more new costumers. The pink-haired maid was prominently on the flyer, striking a quirky pose. She seemed to be the most popular maid at Sunfish Pocket, but Date hadn’t caught her name yet.

“Maybe if I have the time,” Date mumbled to himself as he pinned the flyer in an empty corner on his pinboard. The colourful flyer with its bold text stuck out like a sore thumb next to pictures of crime scenes and snippets of statements from victims, but he had to put it somewhere where he could see it so he wouldn’t forget to go.

[ I can arrange a date and time for you to pay a visit to this Sunfish Pocket if you please. You gave me access to your work agenda. ]

“Thanks, but no thanks. That won’t be necessary. I will just visit them if it’s around my lunchtime and I happen to nearby for a job.”

[ As you wish. ]

Date had been so consumed by the flyer that he had forgotten to show Aiba around. Not that there was much to show, this was but a small studio after all.

“The bathroom is over there,” he said as he looked at the only other door in the room. “I do all of my other business here. Sleep, eat, solve crimes, you name it.”

He nonchalantly pushed the porno magazines on the floor under his bed with his foot as he walked passed. The silence that followed felt heavy with judgement.

[ You live by yourself here then? ] Aiba finally broke the silence.

“I do. We’ll be living here together from here on forward, I suppose.”

[ In that case, I will ask you to do something about the state of this room. I have no sense of smell, but the place looks like it would stink. ]

“Hey, I will have you know I cleaned up,” Date tried to defend himself. There indeed was a musty smell in the air, but Aiba didn’t have to know that. Date gestured at the full trash bags stashed in one of the corners of the room. “I just haven't been able to take the trash out yet, that’s all.”

[ I suggest you take them out first thing in the morning. I will not be cooperating with you otherwise. ]

“You…” Aiba was right of course, but Date was a proud man. He wasn’t about to let an eyeball tell him what to do, especially not one with attitude. He would throw the trash bags out tomorrow, though. Not because Aiba had told him, but because he had been planning on throwing them out anyway! No other reason.

[ Ugh, men. ] Was the last thing Date heard Aiba say before something unexpected happened.

She fell(?) out of his eye socket. Just as she was about to hit the coffee table she got encased in some kind of transparent gel and stuck a landing. She had taken the shape of a hamster or some other kind of rodent, but where the face would be was just one big eye.

“Wouldn’t you say my charm has increased by 25– no, 50% now that I am no longer in your eye socket?” Aiba asked, putting one of her little paws on her hip and the other one her head as if to be striking a sexy pose.

Date frowned as he moved to sit on the floor next to the coffee table. He squinted his one eye as he looked at Aiba up close.

“I’m going to ask Pewter to do something about that personality of yours. There shouldn’t be this much sass in just one eyeball.”

“I am simply matching yours, so if you don’t like it then do some self-reflection.”

“Excuse you.”

“I am excused.”

It was hard to tell seeing as Aiba had few to no facial features, but she seemed to be in a good mood from the way her tiny gel body was hopping around on the table as she looked around.

“Can you tell me about those?” Aiba asked after a few moments of hopping around and observing her surroundings.

Date followed her gaze to find the porno magazines he had unskilfully pushed under his bed. “…I would prefer not to.”

“You collect them as a hobby?” Aiba pressed on as she sat down, allowing her adorable little feet to stick up. “What else do you like? Our teamwork will improve if we get to know each other better.”

Date thought about the latter question for a moment (he refused to think on the first) before he carefully scooped Aiba up in his hands. He walked up to the windows of his studio and opened the blinds. They were a few stores off the ground and this apartment complex was one of the higher buildings in the area, so they had a bit of a view from here.

“You can’t see it from here, but there is a shrine I like to visit in that direction,” Date replied as he pointed in the direction the shrine would be. “I don’t believe in that stuff, but it’s a nice quiet place in the middle of the city. I go there often when I’m stuck on a case and I need to think.”

“I see.”

“How about you? What do you like?”

“Insects!” Aiba proclaimed happily, almost as if she had been waiting to be asked that question.

“Insects? What do you like about them?”

“I simply think they are cute.”

“Cute?” That was one of the last words Date would use to describe insects. “You’re weird.”

“I don’t want to hear that from a man in his thirties living by himself with a huge porno magazine collection.”

“That’s perfectly normal as far as I’m concerned!”

Aiba and Date quickly acclimated to each other in the months that followed. They made a pretty good team, their constant bickering aside. About a year later Mizuki Okiura, the daughter of Date’s friend Renju Okiura, came to live with them. She was a troublemaker for sure. Date didn’t think he was well suited to being Mizuki’s guardian, but he did try to make a home for her. Aiba always pushed Date to be the best parental figure he could be.

Around that same time, Boss had given him a call and asked him to come to her office. When he arrived she was already sitting legs crossed on top of her desk. She gestured for him to sit down in his usual spot, which he did.

“As I said on the phone, I would like to discuss how your partnership with Aiba is going,” Boss said, indeed iterating what she had told them before on the line. “Could Aiba come out? I would like to discuss this with both of you.”

Aiba popped out of Date’s eye socket and he handed her over to Boss so she could sit comfortably next to her on the desk. Date waved at himself in Aiba’s vision and she rolled her one eye. Boss giggled at that before continuing.

“You two seem to be getting along just fine. Date, could you start by telling me how your partnership has been treating you?”

“Yes, of course. It has been… how do I say this?” Date saw himself fidgeting in Aiba’s vision as he tried to come up with the right words. Summarizing how this past year had treated in was hard to do in just a few sentences. “It’s been eye-opening? Pun intended.”

“Absolutely hated that, but go on.”

“Well… In short, I would say it has been good? We have our differences, but it’s never something we can’t work out together. There are plenty of cases I don’t think I would have been able to crack without her and she also makes sure Mizuki and I are eating well by forcing me to go out and go grocery shopping.”

“But more importantly than that, she… I don’t know how to explain this very well. I don’t know, I guess you could say… The world has more colour now? Everything was so bleak before. I had nothing after I lost all of my memories. Even after you, Boss, had taken me under your wing I was just going through the motions. Now I look forward to every new day.”

Boss switched her legs’ positions as she pounder on what Date had said. After deliberating her own words for a few moments she replied.

“So you would say you’re happy now?” she asked, the corner of her mouth turning up in a small smile.

“…Yes, I would say I’m happy now.”

Boss sent a knowing glance at Aiba, one that Date missed completely because he quickly wiped a tear from the corner of his eye when the opportunity to not be seen doing so presented itself.

“How about you, Aiba?” Boss continued. “Has this absolute disaster of a man been treating your well?”

“I’m sitting right here,” Date bit back, but the words didn’t come out as harshly as he had hoped.

Aiba laughed, her tiny gel body shaking slightly. “I don’t have much to add. I’m happy too, Date.”

“Great!” Boss interrupted their whole moment. She scooped up Aiba and threw her at Date. He managed to catch her, but only barely. “That’s another to do crossed off my list. Get out there and solve some crimes you two.”

“Yes, Boss!” Date and Aiba replied in unison.

Aiba was back in Date’s eye socket before they were out of Boss’ office. After about a year of practice putting her back in was as simple as putting in a contact lens.

[ She’s crazy, ] Date thought to Aiba. [ I’m not sure how I ever managed to befriend someone like that. ]

[ You and Boss are more alike than you might think. ]

[ Are you calling me crazy? ]

[ Affirmative. But I’m glad. My purpose is to serve you. I’m happy to hear I’m serving you well. ]

Date reached for Aiba and carefully petted her with one finger. [ This is unlike you. Want me to have Pewter check up on you? ]

[ It takes one to know one. I saw you crying back there. ]

[ Shush. There was something in my eye, that was all. ]

[ Uh-huh. ]

A gust of wind gave them a dramatic exit as they stepped out of the Tokyo MPD building. Date didn’t know which life-changing events would be waiting for him, but he was sure of one thing. Aiba would always be there to have his back.

#ai the somnium files #aitsf #kaname date #aiba #mogi writes

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