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bg-brainrot · 1 year ago

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The Thousandth Time (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Summary: Astarion and Rogue!Tav make love for the thousandth time. In a bathtub.

Tags: Smut, Slice of life, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, bathtub sex, sloppy sex, seriously just sickeningly sweet smut, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Domesticity is romantic, Hand Jobs, Blood Drinking

A/N: Some context-- I wanted to write soft, gender neutral smut. And by the gods is this soft. I tried to look at what it's like to love someone for so long. In my experience, when you've been with someone for so many years, you still find a lot of love in the little things. which I hope I hit? Anyway, enjoy!!

Word count: ~5.3k

The thousandth time you make love to Astarion, you don't know it's the thousandth time.

It's a day like any other, really.

After a long day at the guild, you've arrived home, a sigh on your lips, a furrow to your brow.

"Whatever is the matter, my dear?"

You compose your expression and turn toward your lover. "Astarion," you start, a reflexive wistfulness to your tone. Gods are you glad to see him after a day like today. "Nothing is the matter. Nothing important anyway. Simply glad to be home."

Astarion gives you a look that says he doesn't quite believe you, but knows better than to pry too deeply into issues you'd rather not bring home. "Very well, darling. But you know I'm all pointy ears. Especially if Nine-Fingers has been difficult again."

"Ugh," you say, wincing in annoyance. "Do not say her name right now."

The vampire gives you a bright, toothy laugh. "That bad, eh?" You nod. He walks toward you, arms outstretched. "Mmm in that case, shall we call it an early night tonight?"

You dive into the comfort of his arms, holding him to you, inhaling his fresh, familiar scent. It feels like the day's troubles melt in his cold embrace, and the tension in your body finally relaxes. "That might be nice."

"Dinner first?" he asks, pulling away from you slightly.

You look into his warm crimson eyes, feel that same warmth reflected in your face. Of course, he’d check to see if your mortal needs have been met. "No need, I've eaten. How about you?"

Astarion brings a hand up to inspect your face, this way, then that. It’s as if he’s examining you for injury, not assessing if he can partake in a bit of your blood. "Mmm, you seem a tad tired, love."

"You know I'll manage. Besides, get my blood while it's still boiling with rage," you say, craning your neck for him in response.

"As delectable as that sounds,” he begins, letting go of your face, tracing his fingers along your neck. “I think a bath and bed ought to come first."

You want to argue the point, make sure he's fed to the best of your ability, but the yawn that escapes you is irrefutable. With nary another word, his hand is on the small of your back, guiding you toward the bath.

"Would you like to join me?" you ask him as you open the door. Your expression is calm, the question harboring no hidden intentions. Any other day, you may have raised an eyebrow at him suggestively, begun taking off your armor in a tease– but you're tired, simply not wanting to relinquish the feel of his arms around you.

"Certainly, if it keeps you from falling asleep in the tub…" he trails off, looking at you warily. He appears torn, somewhere between keeping you from drowning and keeping you from resting.

You give him a wry smile. “Imagine that. After felling all manner of beasts and men, finally succumbing to the tub.”

Astarion offers you a reluctant smile in return. “My love, I swear to every god above and below, if you die in any manner even remotely that ludicrous, I shall have to pretend not to know you at your funeral.”

“That’s fair,” you say, holding a hand out to him. “Best to make sure that doesn’t happen then, don’t you think?”

The man can’t argue with that, nor does he seem to want to. After an entire day away from each other, this closeness is exactly what the two of you crave. So he takes your offered hand, and follows you into the bathroom.

It has been years since you had added a tub big enough for the two of you in your house. While the two of you had accrued wealth enough for an entire bathhouse, you’d settled for a more modest setup. At least, modest in Astarion’s eyes.

The floor is made of the finest marble tiles, the walls of intricately laid and patterned brick. And in the center of the room, is the room’s main attraction: the enormous, magical tub. It’s long enough that you could comfortably lay down across the entire bottom, wide enough that you have to extend your arms to reach both sides. The outer edges are infused with enchantments to improve your bathing experience, and the tub itself is made of the highest quality crystal that gold can buy.

Once you enter the room, you activate the heat and water sigils along the basin’s edges and turn back to Astarion. “Would you mind grabbing some soaps from the shelf?”

He gives you a lopsided grin, eyes crinkling with amusement, but still moves to do as you ask. “Would you also like me to bathe you while I’m at it?”

“Oh, would you?” you ask half-joking. You begin to strip your armor off, piece by piece.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, picking out a few of his preferred scents from a shelf on the wall. He’s accumulated quite the collection now, enjoying mixing and matching as his nose guides him. “That could be arranged.”

You’re almost halfway through your armor when he returns, bottles of lemon, bergamot, and sage soaps in hand. “Ah, you know how much I love bergamot,” you say, smiling at it fondly, pausing halfway through undoing your leather straps.

“I know,” he says, placing them next to the tub before turning his attention fully to you. “I also know that you need help with that armor or we may be here all night.”

Holding your arms out wordlessly, Astarion starts to unbuckle each and every strap from the front of your padded armor. As he releases you from its confines, you take a deep, relieved breath and say, “Thank you, love.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he murmurs, leaving a long lingering touch along your now exposed collarbone. “While you strike quite the image in your armor, I think I much prefer you without.”

You laugh, feeling quite light in the now steaming room. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your mind is straying quite far from rest, Astarion.”

The vampire shrugs, beginning to tug at your undershirt and small clothes with each of his hands. “Merely stating fact, my darling.”

With a few smooth movements, he’s taken off the last of your clothing, exposing every inch of you to the warmth of the room and the heat of his gaze. He seems just about ready to bury his head in your neck, begin covering every piece of you in kisses, when you speak, “Excuse me, are you planning to enter the bath in your house clothes?”

Astarion looks down at his own garb, the comfortable satins and silks of a man who spent the day lounging at home. When faced with your words and, ugh, logic, he says with a sigh, “Would you do the honors?”

You need no more invitation before your hands are on his soft, flowing shirt, running along it appreciatively. “Is this new?”

“It is,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “Do you like it?”

“It feels magnificent,” you respond, beginning to undo its buttons. “I may just have to steal it for myself one of these days.”

His lips purse at you. “You know, you could simply ask, darling.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you taunt, pulling up on the shirt's edges, tugging it up and off of him. Now, faced with the plane of his ivory chest, your fingers act on instinct. They trail down his shoulders, trace the line of his pectorals, drop down the center of his stomach to the waist of his pants.

Astarion gives you a low, approving noise before asking you wryly, “Now whose mind is straying?”

“Not mine,” you respond, pulling his pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. “My hands are just so tired, I’m sure you understand.”

“Surely,” he responds, as he pulls each foot out of his pant legs. “How is the water?”

The bath is steaming by now, visibly fogging up the room, but still, you bend down to skim your hands along its surface. “Ah, it’s warm,” you say, gripping the edge with one hand. “Maybe too warm?”

“No such thing,” he responds, and one of his hands lands next to yours as he bends down to feel the water for himself. The man gives a happy hum before asking, “Shall we then?” Then his now-wet hand is smacking your butt, his head gesturing toward the waiting water.

“Excuse you,” you say, indignantly, as you turn toward him. “I'm tired.” But you don't feel tired. Not after running your hands over his cold skin. Not after feeling the quick contact of his hand on your backside.

“Not to worry, darling. I’ll take care of you.”

As in, bathing or–? Luckily you don't have much more time to think about it before he’s lowering himself into the tub. Even with his quick movement, even with the water’s slight obscurity, you easily note that Astarion’s cock has stirred in interest.

Ah. While you hadn’t meant to illicit anything by inviting him… it’s certainly not unwelcome. It’s a good thing that your exhaustion is all but melting away under his loving touches.

Acutely aware of his sharp gaze on the length of your back, you turn to face away from him, grab the edge of the tub, and slowly enter its warmth. As was customary in your baths, he would start with your back, so you take a spot in front of him, leaving just enough room for him to settle behind you as he pleases.

Too much room clearly, as Astarion immediately scoots forward, extending his legs to each side of you. You feel his hardening length graze your backside as he does so and can’t help the smile that curves your lips.

"Astarion, dear,” you start, placing your hands on each of his knees under the water. “Are you certain you want to bathe me?"

“And why wouldn't I be?” He leans closer, planting a soft kiss along your spine.

You debate backing up into his groin to prove a point but instead shake your head. "No reason, I suppose."

He begins by lathering his hands in a mixture of soaps, carefully measured out by eye and feel. All the while, you sit before him, hands on each of his calves, thumbs repeatedly rubbing the ridge of his muscles. While he’d had a nice, calm day today, his calves are always so tight from sneaking about– and it’s the least you can do for the man that’s bathing you.

Then his hands get to work.

At first he drags both hands along your back, once, twice. Once he’s made sure that soap covers every inch of you, he starts massaging you, working the soap into your skin, kneading into your sore muscles.

Astarion knows your body so intimately and, after so many years of tending to each other, he rubs all of your tightest spots. His knuckles press deep into your neck. His fingers work around your upper back. His thumbs dig underneath the edges of your shoulder blades, working out the knots he knows lay beneath. And, by the gods, if you thought you’d been melting under his caresses before, now you’re practically a puddle.

You can’t help the noises that come out at the sensation of his nimble fingers at work. Your shoulders ache from a long day of sneaking, stabbing, and general tension of dealing with people– the relief is palpable in the way you relax into his touch, grip his legs, and release several breathy moans.

And with each moan, you can feel his cock growing firmer against you. After the first few, you can feel him shift closer with every noise he draws from you. Knowing your affect on him has always done something to stir the fire in you, and this time it has you shifting uncomfortably as heat blooms between your legs. The both of you spur the other’s building lust, all the while the fresh scent that Astarion’s concocted permeates the air.

Then, when it’s clear he’s done with your back, thoroughly satisfied with each gasping breath of pleasure, his hands drop from your shoulders. They tail down your back, playing along your spine. And, in an almost leisurely motion, they wrap around your torso, where they finally settle on your chest.

I don’t think this is a relaxing bath anymore, you think distantly. Yet you’re unable to resist leaning into his palms, arching into his touch.

Sensing your shuffles, Astarion curls further into your back, almost entirely flush to you now. His fingers feel their way to each of your nipples, first gently brushing against them, then thumbing over them each in turn. They respond eagerly, perking up under his delicate sweep.

“Astarion,” you begin, turning your head back to him slightly and raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” Your tone isn’t exactly admonishing– your voice comes out too quiet, desire muffling all other emotions.

His hands trail down your chest, past the surface of the bath water, settling on each of your thighs before he responds, voice low, lips inches away from your ear. “Making sure that every single centimeter of my beautiful darling is clean, of course.”

“Astarion, I thought you would be, ahh… taking care of me," you say, barely holding on to your trail of thought as his hands dip between your legs, brushing your sensitive core.

“I am taking care of you,” he whispers, finally closing the remaining distance between your back, his front. At the feel of his stiff cock pressing against your back, you give an involuntary gasp. He seems to enjoy your reaction, taking a moment to slowly grind the entire length of his hardened arousal along your backside once, before he settles between your cheeks. “Unless you’d rather leave all of this stress pent up, my dear?”

You’d been tired– been ready to bathe and head off to bed. But something about this man never fails to ignite the fire in your heart– or your loins. “I suppose not,” you murmur, releasing Astarion’s calf, running up his leg with your fingers, landing on his arm, gripping it closer to you.

“I knew you would see reason,” he says, taking your grip as guidance. His hand moves down to begin stroking your heat, building up steadily to the fast-paced rhythm he knows you like. In the water’s buoyant embrace, his actions feel a touch more fluid, his fingers more silken.

It has taken time experimenting together to reach this place– one of utmost security and intimate knowledge of each others’ bodies. But now that you’re here, you’ve found that Astarion’s agile fingers are obscenely precise in their movements. Like he knows exactly which pins to tumble to unlock your utmost excitement.

So you can't help the way you buck into his touch, nor the way the water sloshes around you both in response.

"Careful, love," he says, hand stilling. "We don't want to make a mess this time, do we?"

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember the last time this had happened, how the floor had been practically flooded. You should agree with him, make sure that such an incident doesn't occur again. But the front of your mind is wholly occupied, thinking only of how he's stopped moving his hand, how being careful may mean that he takes it too gently. "Mmm, we managed to clean it up well enough," you respond, jerking your hips back, pressing against him with need.

Astarion's laughter rings upon the bathroom's stone walls, before it turns into a groan as you roll your hips once more. His voice is a bit huskier when he responds, "You know we’re going to regret it later.”

You smile back at him, satisfied with the noise you’ve elicited. “Sounds like a problem for later, doesn’t it?” Then your hand squeezes his arm, motioning it back down to your now throbbing arousal. “For now, what was that about releasing my stress?”

“Oh very well… in that case, let’s find where you ache most, shall we?” Astarion murmurs, dipping his head, placing a kiss on the base of your neck. “Here?” Your shoulder. “Or perhaps here?” Then his hand settles back between your legs, fingers touching you in a rather delicate caress. “Or maybe here?”

You hum a noise of approval as his . “Oh, there.”

His fingers close on your swollen sex, rubbing languidly as he whispers in your ear, “Mmm, darling. So much tension…” A bit more pressure. “I must simply…” A bit faster pace. “Massage it all away…”

If anything, his touches cause you to grasp at his legs harder, all of the muscles in your body responding in kind to his ministrations. Your back arches instinctively, earning an exquisite groan from Astarion. So when his next stroke causes you to clench, you lean into it, grinding your ass back into the full length of his erection, sliding easily in the water’s low friction.

His other hand finds its way to your hip, helping you match his pace as you continue to rock into him.

The two of you fall into a beautiful, raucous rhythm, each open and generous with your vocal pleasure, the water’s regular splashes punctuating each movement.

“Yes, yes, gods, Astarion.”

“My sweet, you’re the only divine thing here.”

Then your words begin to lose sense, your rhythm begins to falter, and it’s clear that you won’t last much longer under his caring fingers.

You also know that Astarion hasn’t been tended to nearly as well as you have.

So you move to turn toward him. With how his full length twitches against you in urgency, your own nimble fingers ought to return the favor.

Astarion stops you, placing his unoccupied hand back on your chest to hold you in place. "Ah ah ah. Love, I'm here to help you."

"You are helping,” you start, pushing back against his hand. “But I don’t want to leave you like this.” ‘This’ is obvious as the man clearly exercises every ounce of self control he has judging from the visible veins on his arm, the way his legs squeeze reflexively around you each time he strokes you.

He gives you a reluctant groan, one that does nothing to hide his desire. “Must you always be so selfless?” His hand doesn’t release your chest though, and he begins tracing delicate, wet circles around one of your nipples, as he murmurs, “Fine, just let me continue.”

Staying in place for him, you reach back with one hand to feel for his cock. It’s almost unreal how naturally you slot around him, the way your fingers circle around its girth. The entire length, inch-by-inch, the pattern of his veins, the sensitive lip of his head– they’re all intimately familiar to you now. As is finding just the right grip, the right pace.

When you start to pump him in earnest, Astarion can't help but shudder, his movements losing their steady, pulsing beat. In losing his pace, he takes on a new one– erratic, a bit fumbling, but utterly intoxicating.

You're both stoking each other’s fires in tandem, wildly offset in your desperation to touch each other more and more and more.

The water feels almost cool compared to your heated core, to the sweet friction you're building together.

Astarion's face tilts into your back, grunting as he strains to right his tempo– his forehead presses against you, his cool exhale grazes your searing skin. His chilled touch is a reprieve in the sweltering fog of steam and heady lust. Hearing your sigh of relief, he seems all too willing to make more contact.

His lips crash onto your back roughly, and his fangs nick your skin. An involuntary shiver runs through your body as you imagine the pleasure his drinking evokes from you. As you imagine the man behind you lapping at your neck, moaning in satisfaction, flushed pink with your very blood–

"Take some blood,” you offer, breathless. Imagining would never be enough, you find yourself craving the real deal. So when you say your next word, it comes out more pleading than you intend, “Please."

“Whatever my dearest desires,” Astarion replies, voice low and rumbling. He removes the hand from your chest and places it on your shoulder, holding you in place as he places his lips at the crook of your neck. His nose rubs gently against your fleshly washed skin. “Mmm, you smell so good.”

Then his fangs pierce you.

When you first began your relationship, you hadn’t intended to enjoy his bites as much as you do, but after years and years of them, the pain hardly registers now. All you feel is close– So very close to the man you would gladly give your lifeblood to.

He draws a gulp, and you feel the blood course through you, into him.

Another drink, and heat builds in you as you feel his cock grow harder in your hand, his veins more prominent.

A third long pull of your blood, and you feel his fingers quicken at your aching arousal.

You jerk into his hand in reaction, trying to seek an outlet for your pleasure. Your mouth emits a whimper– you hadn’t been comfortable whimpering with Astarion at first, but after he drew one out of you, he couldn’t get enough.

He still can’t, and you feel his lips curl into a smile at your neck, his fingers move with more urgency.

All the while you continue stroking his length, fingers sloppy in your own hazy state. It doesn’t seem like you need your usual dexterity though, because Astarion is practically writhing with newfound reactivity. Drinking blood always leaves him especially sensitive.

One last shaky swallow and he removes his fangs from your neck. But not his mouth. His tongue begins lavishing your puncture wound furiously as he struggles to hold back his approaching peak.

With the way he haphazardly tilts his hips into you, it’s all too evident to you that he’s reaching his limit. He’s not afraid to tell you so either.

"My sweet," he all but moans into your ear. "I–I can't last much longer. May I?"

You know what he means, and you honestly can’t last much longer either– you’re positively light-headed from a mixture of bliss and blood loss. So you stop your movements, nod your addled head at him.

He removes his hands from your core and neck, reaching out to your legs. Pulling them out and apart, he shuffles behind you, moving impatiently.

Realizing he can’t do this alone, he gestures, motioning for you to put your legs up.

Still a bit dizzy, you carefully place each leg on either side of the tub’s edges, hooking yourself in place by the ankles. It feels a precarious balance, but you can hardly care when you’re this eager to have Astarion inside you.

Astarion seems just as eager, rubbing his length against your ass hungrily as you get into position.

Perched and ready for him, the man is quick to help once more– his hands grip your asscheeks and lift in a swift movement. You’re particularly buoyant in the water, and you rise higher than either of you had expected. Your hand instinctively reaches out, gripping the edge of the tub to brace yourself, and you hear Astarion give a deep chuckle from behind you.

Holding back your own almost giddy excitement, you try to compose yourself for him. Angling your hips up, you’re almost floating on the water for a moment as Astarion lines the tip of his cock with your entrance.

However, you’re instinctively clenching a second later when a pair of your lover’s fingers tease at your opening. You barely avoid clamping your legs back together at the sensation.

Recovering from the tickling probe, you look back to see a lust-drunk fanged smile, lips smeared with red. "Astarion, please,” you mutter. “I can't balance like this all day."

"Come darling, I know you’re quite talented," he taunts, easily gliding his fingers back in, curling until you truly do begin to lose balance.

"Astarion," you breathe out, clutching the side of the tub even harder to stay afloat.

Then his fingers slip back out, replaced a moment later by the head of his cock. “No need to worry, I have a seat for you right here.”

His palms cup your backside, his fingers squeeze, as you lower your hips back down, taking in his entire, slick length effortlessly in the water.

“Now isn’t that better?” he asks, grabbing your hips with one hand, the other finding yours on the side of the tub for support.

“Mmm,” is all that you manage, as you adjust to the sudden fullness. You haven’t lain with anyone else in so long, it’s hard to remember a cock other than his. Still, you can’t help but feel like he settles in you just right. Especially when you both slot together neatly, you taking him to the hilt.

Astarion drops another kiss on your back. “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you mumble. Now that you’re securely held in place by Astarion’s hips flush to yours, your legs hanging off the tub’s edges, you place your second hand back at your aching arousal. You begin to stroke yourself back into the same fervor Astarion had you in moments ago.

After a small, deliberate thrust of his hips, testing how you rise and fall in the water, Astarion starts moving against you. It’s slow at first, the water rippling out from you both in small waves. Then his hips rock back, only to drive back into you with sloshing force.

“A–ahh!” Sweet hells, he knows exactly how to hit your most sensitive spot. You had already been so heated, but now, with your lover’s full, hardened length pressing into you? You feel dizzy with pleasure.

Years of lovemaking, and you’re still in awe of how well he knows your body. It’s more than his previous experiences culminating in some kind of skillful paramour. No, this was built through time, trial, error, effort.

So as this gorgeous man you call love bounces you up and down in his lap, you feel yourself coming undone. Your breaths come ragged as you ride his cock, water spilling out of the tub with each and every buck. Your fingers clench the tub, barely holding on as you feel your pleasure coil tighter and tighter.

Astarion places kiss after kiss down your back, and you hear him murmuring, "Gods you're perfect." A harder kiss. "You feel so good." Another thrust. "Each." A nip at your skin. "And every." A thrust. "Time." Another kiss. "I–I love you."

For your part, you’re finding entire sentences difficult. With the feel of him throbbing inside you, the way his lips feel along your back, each roll of his hips, you're truly only capable of a few phrases. "Astarion." A splashing bounce. "I love you–" A loll back of your head. "Oh hells–" A dip of your hips. "I love you too."

When your peak finally runs through you like a shockwave, when you clench around him in ecstasy, those very same words are still on your lips. "I l–love you."

He moans at the sudden tightness, the muscles that now hold him deep within you. "Darling," he breathes. "Oh love. I can't–"

Astarion means to say that he can't hold on much longer. He'd already been so close, holding back only to keep your pleasure going. So you reach down to his fingers on your hip, as best as you can while still hanging on for dear life, and squeeze his hand. A wordless affirmation, a plea to join you, as he always has.

And it’s that silent communication that has his fingers lacing through yours, his neck craning back, his hips stuttering.

When he comes, there's no pretense or performance. There hasn't been for many years. So when you look back at his face in a hazy fuzz of emotion, the expression you see is utterly unbridled.

It's a look of sheer pleasure– his perfectly pale skin flushed a light rosy color, his usually impeccable hair stuck to his face in a mixture of sweat and water. His eyes are shut, his mouth agape as he spills into you.

So enraptured are you by the mundane beauty of his climax, that you’ve strained too far from your precariously balanced position. Your foot unhooks from the tub’s slippery edge and you fall onto Astarion’s lap with a large splash as he finishes. You’re both left panting and wet in the wake of both your and the tub’s peaks.

Water drips down your face, all of the soap bottles have been knocked from the edge of the tub. The high you’d felt just moments ago feels doused in the stark reality of making love in a bathtub.

However, when you feel Astarion’s breathy laughter on your back, feel his softening cock twitch with his last few thrusts, you know he’s still in fine spirits.

You stay together for a few moments as you both collect yourselves. Water is wiped from eyes, your second leg comes back into the tub, and several deep breaths are had. Once you’re relatively sorted, Astarion pulls himself out of you with a long, happy sigh.

The man falls back from you, sitting against the end of the tub in a tired flop. Then he’s patting the water in front of him, motioning you to join him in some post-coital cuddles.

You don’t need much more of an invitation.

Floating through the now much lower water, you stop just in front of him. Movements relaxed, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and scoot into his waiting embrace.

"So," you start, looking at the wasteland of water and strewn soap bottles around the tub. "Looks like we made a mess."

"I told you we would," he says, closing his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

"I know," you say, leaning into him comfortably. Your body is truly exhausted now, but your mind is a buzz of joy. "It was worth it though."

He laughs into your shoulder, squeezes you tighter. "Feeling better, I take it?"

"Gods yes," you say, tilting your head into his silver hair. "Thank you."

"Oh my sweet, it was my utmost pleasure," he replies, and you can feel his smile on your skin.

You both lean back, grinning at each other like fools. The smiles stay, even when your lips meet in a soft, wet kiss.

You will need to clean the room, the tub, likely your bodies once again– but all you can truly feel right now is content. Enjoying Astarion’s gentle fingers as they trace a pattern onto your skin, the warm water all around you, you very nearly forget that today was merely a day like any other.

The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, it was messy and wet and silly– somehow, it was sweet, caring, and loving all the same.

The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, you didn't know it was the thousandth time.

Just as you hadn't known your tenth thousand kiss, nor your hundred thousandth 'I love you.' Were anyone to ask you about them, you might not even remember the days or events surrounding any of them.

What you do know is that each individual moment holds no less importance, that the affection shared between you doesn’t diminish with each recurrence.

You’re unable to quantify your love, nor would you want to. All you really want is Astarion– his soft lips, tender hands, and whispered words of love– until your dying breath.

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tigerf00d · 2 years ago

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UNBEARABLE

George Karim x Fem!Reader

Tags: Smut! Aged up characters obv :), no use of y/n, all of Lockwood & Co., Brief Quill Kipps interaction.

6.7k words

a/n: I love George and just had to get in on the fun.. crossposted on ao3 as well, so if you've come from there and already read this, hi!

George Casper Karim was unbearable. There’s simply no other way to put it.

His big stupid head was always getting in your way, correcting you, and complaining when you forgot who took the biscuit last and helped yourself. You could hear him in your head, “Really, you ought to have gotten it by now!”

But oh, how you loathe to admit that you needed him, how helpful it was when he ironed your clothes before a client came round, and the comfort of coming home from a particularly draining case to warm food placed wordlessly in front of you.

And he could be sweet. He could. As uncomfortable with touch as he was, he’d brush your shoulder with his hand if he could tell you really needed it; he’d stand close on cold nights walking home, Lockwood and Lucy would too, but they readily shared their space like that, George didn’t.

It didn’t help that sometimes you’d catch yourself watching his side profile as he researched or the quiet admittance that he looked like an Angel as the sun illuminated his hair in a halo of curls as he helped you up after tripping and landing on the pavement, even though he was laughing at you.

There were just no other words. He was unbearable. You had the inability to bear him.

You wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him so hard his world spun so he could feel just a fraction of what he did to you. Shrink him down, trap him in your pocket, and feed him to his heart’s content so he is always warm, safe, and happy. Ugh, he was just the worst. Ever.

So it’s safe to say you have no idea why you agreed to this.

Rotwell’s was holding its annual celebration, and Lockwood & Co was invited. Well, most of Lockwood & Co, Skull obviously couldn’t come, no matter how annoyingly they asked. Despite the agency not being in any immediate danger, for once, Lockwood still deemed it essential to be partially undercover to try and snoop out new cases that were particularly interesting (read: dangerous, life-threatening or otherwise malignant), and for some reason that meant George and you had to be a couple for the evening.

Anthony Lockwood wouldn’t get to be a ghost. You were sure of it. He was going straight to hell. Sorry, Luce.

“I��m going to die.” The pillow muffled your voice as you lay face down in Lucy’s bed,

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“It’s not like you’ve had to pretend to date one of them, Lucy.”

“Well…”

You stared at the girl opposite you, “He’s… done this before…?”

She nodded solemnly, betrayed by her eyes sparkling with mirth. Groaning, you rolled back over.

“Did you have to be with George?”

“No, mine was with Lockwood.”

Deep down, you refused to admit that that made you pleased. If she had said otherwise, it might have stoked useless jealousy in the pit of your stomach.

After a moment, you sat up, nodding and looking at what was prepared for tonight. You thankfully had a nice dress already, a velvet cranberry coloured thing with mesh sleeves that opened at the elbow and draped elegantly. It'd been a gift as congratulations on joining the agency and moving out from your family. Lucy had painted your nails with some sheer iridescent polish, matching the shine to the silver on your accessories.

George’s outfit remained to be seen, but the way Lockwood smiled when you showed what you’d be wearing, it matched somehow.

“Uhm, Luce?”

“Yes?”

“What– what is that?”

That was the two-piece set on top of your dress, but it was clearly meant to be worn beneath.

“Oh.” She smiled awkwardly, “There was a two-for-one sale.”

“I see.” Accepting this, you picked the garments up, and she turned back to fixing her makeup. “How did you know my size?”

She froze.

“Lucy?”

“You aren’t gonna like it.”

“What did you do!”

“You aren’t the… only one that does your laundry.”

George.

You turned to face her fully, “You. You.” The words wouldn’t come out.

“It’s fine! He just checked for me quickly. He probably doesn’t even remember.”

Eyes unblinking, you stared at her. “I don’t think I can do this.” having said that, you flung yourself back onto the bed.

“You don’t even have to wear it, I just saw that the colour I picked out matched your dress, so I put it out for you. Please get up.” She pleaded. “I don’t think I told him what it was for, either,” she was speaking like she was conversing with a wild animal.

Relenting, you got back up. “These feel expensive.”

“Hence the two-for-one,”

“They won’t show under my dress?”

Lucy grinned wolfishly, “The plan is to be hidden until the last moment, so no. They’re pretty comfortable too. I’ve worn mine a few times.”

“Oh ew, Lucy.”

“All I’m saying is it’s a hit for both parties.”

You couldn’t help but make a face.

“Not that George will be seeing them, anyway… but I guess it’s good to be in the right state of mind…”

She dragged out the E in “Exactly.”

✧☽────•⋆°˖⋅✹⋅˖°⋆

You felt pretty. The lingerie did match your dress nicely and fit perfectly, you noted with mixed emotions. And your hair, makeup and accessories all seemed to be working together and playing nicely for once.

“Don’t you two look excellent!” Lockwood said, sidling beside Lucy and giving her an affectionate kiss on the cheek, “Come here; I want to look at you both properly.”

You did as he said, pretending to be doing it unwillingly but feeling very pleased inside.

“Yeah? D’you think it’ll go with George’s?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen him yet, have you?”

You shook your head no, and he turned to holler the other man’s name through the house. George, to his credit, arrived very shortly after. You half expected him to be in a too-big dress shirt and borrowed pants, but you were begrudgingly surprised.

“Oh.” You whispered.

“Oh?” George answered from the doorway.

His suit was a rich burgundy, and while you wore silver, he wore a simple gold chain. The shirt was off-white and a wispy ghost-patterned teal tie.

“You look smart.” You provided.

“I am smart.” He deadpanned.

To that, you rolled your eyes, “You know what I mean. You look good. Clean up well. Whatever,” you averted your gaze and waved your hand in an ‘and so on’ motion. You could feel your face warming, avoiding Lucy’s all-too-knowing expression.

“Ah. Thanks,” and after a moment, he quietly added, “Your dress is nice.”

“Thank you.” You looked up to see his eyes already waiting to meet yours, goosebumps dancing on your skin in reaction.

Lockwood groaned loudly.

“Shut up, Lockwood.” Lucy chided.

“Are they going to be like this all night?”

George broke his gaze first, turning his attention to the taller man. “You’re the one that wanted us to be dating.”

Temporarily throwing your nerves to the wind, you decided that maybe you could have fun with this. You walked to stand beside him, dramatically throwing an arm around him before facing Lockwood and Lucy, “Yeah, what my honey said!”

“My honey?” George questioned, a confused smile on his face.

“We need pet names. If we were really dating, I’d settle for nothing less.” You smiled resolutely, then added. “You don’t like honey? What about… snookums?” He shook his head. “Sweetie pie? Light of my life? My heart? All I hold dearest?” He shook his head no to each one, pausing at my heart, which you would definitely be filing away for later.

“Any normal one like love or babe will do fine, thanks.”

“You spoil my fun, love.”

Distantly, you could hear Anthony retch as Lucy and George sent him twin glares.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Well, you need a pet name too, don’t you?” He asked, and you realised that you hadn’t really put much thought into it. You tried to think back to things on tv or in books.

“Um, I’m not sure. What do you think?”

The pair of you continued to ponder when you stumbled on the memory of when he’d made you both laugh so hard your sides hurt.

You’d gone to Arif’s with him, eating one of the doughnuts as you walked back to 35 Portland Row when you’d unexplainably dropped it and, in your effort to catch it mid-tumble, tripped on a gap in the concrete and fell yourself.

Annoyed and hurt, you’d looked up at George to see him already offering a hand to help you up, but he was laughing. And as much as you wanted to pout, his laughter was infectious. The sun behind his head illuminating the edges of his hair and the sides of his face, which had a chocolate smear and sprinkles on either side of his mouth from his own doughnut, and you couldn’t help but laugh too. The memory made you smile even now.

“What about angel?” You said softly.

“Angel? I can do that.” He nodded, eyes narrowed in curiosity, having noted your mood shift.

With a clap, Lockwood announced, “Great, well, now that that’s settled, we better get going. The gala starts soon, and we wouldn’t want you two lovebirds to miss your first public appearance as a couple.”

You made a face alongside George.

“No… we wouldn’t want that… not at all…”

✧☽────•⋆°˖⋅✹⋅˖°⋆

The gala was bustling. Rotwell’s was flaunting a new hall they had built recently, a temporary centrepiece to the room being a large fountain that was probably meant to be some sort of vase but ended up looking like an urn overflowing.

Standing at the entrance nervously, you felt George’s hand slip into your own, and you tilted your head in silent question, to which he’d shrugged and simply said, “Looked like you needed it.”

You smiled gratefully and began walking in, greeting a few people you only sort of knew and avoiding the ones you wanted to.

“So, what’s the plan again?”

“Lockwood wants us to schmooze, basically. Find out what the top agencies are interested in. Personally, I want to know what technology is coming out soon.”

“Course you do, babe.”

His eyes flicked to yours briefly before focusing ahead once more.

“So…” You started nervously, “Who to speak to first?”

“Rather the devil you know?” He answered, and you saw him nod his head to the left, which made you turn and see Quill Kipps walking straight for you.

You smiled at the offending man before turning to your date and whispering, “Great…” smiling wider when you realised that George held back a snort of amusement.

“Fancy seeing you two here tonight. I don’t suppose Lockwood’s here.”

“He’s around somewhere. Why d’you ask Kipps?”

“Oh, nothing.” He was pretending to be distracted. That much was obvious. “You look good, by the way.”

That was not what you were expecting. You could feel George wrap his arm around your waist, the palm of his hand warm on your hip, and you could tell that the action wasn’t unnoticed by the other man.

“I– Thank you, Quill.”

He nodded, then answered your earlier question,

“I’m surprised he’d let you off without a short leash, is all, after what happened last time.”

The last time he was referring to was you shouting rather angrily at someone holding up the line at the toilets, who happened to be an honoured guest of that event. Not your finest moment, and the reminder caused your cheeks to heat furiously.

“Well, he did, something about my George being able to keep me in line.” You smiled fondly at George as you worked your budding relationship into the conversation.

“Not that they need to be kept in line, anyway.” He added.

“Ah, well.” Kipps nodded in faux disinterest before tacking on, “Never thought someone would go for you, Karim. But I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures.”

George opened his mouth to retort, but you interrupted before he got the chance,

“Excuse you? What did you just say about my boyfriend?”

Quill seemed genuinely surprised at your aggression, floundering to come up with a witty remark as you continued.

“I’ll have you know that your failure to recognise his brilliance is going to bite you in the arse one day. He is more caring, more funny– more intelligent than you will ever be.” You turned to George, who was wearing a similarly surprised expression, “C’mon love, let’s go speak to someone who won’t behave so rudely.”

And with that, you pulled him off to somewhere secluded, shadow barely disguising the two of you as your own expression slipped, revealing your nerves. “Was that ok? I didn’t push it, did I?”

“No, no, you were great. Very believable…” He trailed off, “Did you really mean that?”

“What? Of course, I meant it. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

He nodded wordlessly, not making eye contact. “Well, it definitely started the rumour mill. At this rate, we’ll be in one of Lockwood’s gossip columns by the end of the week.” You followed his eye line to see Kipps speaking to another agent and glancing at the pair of you, and you groaned, resting your head on George’s shoulder.

“Should we put on a show for them?” There was something about the way he said it that you knew meant trouble.

“You’re starting to sound like our fearless leader.”

He huffed at that, but you could tell it wasn’t without humour.

“Just trust me, yeah?”

You moved your head and looked into his eyes.

“I already do.”

He pulled you until your back was against the wall, and his back was to the crowd. His face was so close now. Had he always had a freckle there? It was so cute… Oh please, please don’t be thinking he was cute right now. You made eye contact, and he smiled reassuringly, murmuring, “Trust me.” His expression went serious once more before leaning down and kissing just below your ear, causing you to make a small noise of pleasant surprise. You felt his lips curve into a smile when he kissed you lower against the side of your neck.

“George.” his name came out more breathily than you had hoped. Another soft kiss, barely grazing the skin this time.

“Yes, angel?”

“I think. I think you’ve made your point.”

“One more for good luck.”

Surprising you with his boldness, he kissed you again before standing up straight and reverted to his usual awkward forwardness.

“I, um, didn’t want to kiss your lips in case that wasn’t alright with you, first.”

“So you… kissed my neck?”

“It’s more intimate than kissing your cheek.” He said as a way of answer.

“True.” You conceded. “And for future reference, I’m ok with kissing as long as you are.”

He nodded but didn’t continue, turning around to the sea of people and searching for the other members of the agency.

“Should we see what the others got up to? Hopefully, they spoke to someone better than we did.”

George did a thin smile before turning back and saying, “I think I can see Lockwood and Lucy.”

“Lead the way.”

As you walked behind him, you couldn’t help but gingerly raise a hand to touch where he’d kissed you last.

“So, how lucky have you two been?” You asked the other couple, and Lucy smirked.

“Not as lucky as you. I saw that.”

“Saw what?” Lockwood asked, and she rolled her eyes.

“Those two necking it in the corner.”

“What?! And you didn’t point it out? How could you, Lucy? I thought we loved each other.”

“I’ll have you know those were tactical kisses.” George butt in.

“Yes. Kipps was rather rude, and Georgie here was displaying gratitude for me defending his honour.”

Anthony grimaced at the mention of the other agent but brightened again, “Defended his honour?”

“Apparently, I’m caring, funny, and intelligent.”

You were either on fire or just embarrassed.

“Why’d you go and tell him that? Now he’s going to get a big head.”

“Bigger than yours?” You quipped, and Lucy smiled. “And it’s true, anyway.” You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Hence us ‘necking’ in the corner,” George added. “More fuel for the gossip train.”

“Besides, it’s not like getting kissed was terrible.”

“Oh really?” Lucy raised a brow at you, and you silently tried to blow her up with your mind and then yourself for bringing it up. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw George studying your face.

“And it’s good for our cover.” You deflected, watching her eyes glint as a silent reminder that this conversation was not over.

“You didn’t happen to bring makeup with you, did you?” Lockwood asked, suddenly distracting you.

“Uh, no. Why?”

“Just that ol’ loverboy may have overdone it.”

At that, you slapped a hand over your neck, “George Casper Karim, did you give me a hickey?” You hissed. Surely you would have noticed, and Anthony was just ribbing you.

George rubbed his neck awkwardly, “I– maybe? I couldn’t tell ‘cause we were in the dark, and now you’re covering it.”

You turned to Lucy and Lockwood with pleading eyes, Lucy shaking with repressed silent laughter.

“He staked his claim.” That was all you got out of her.

Hesitantly you removed your hand and tilted your head to George in resignation.

“Oh yeah, there it is.” He brushed two fingers over the tender spot so casually, in a way that melted your insides had you not been so mortified.

“George!”

“My bad,” he added apologetically.

Lockwood smiled ruthlessly. “Well, now there’s no doubt about who’s dating who.”

“This is maybe the most embarrassed I’ve ever been.”

“I thought the kissing wasn’t so bad.” Lucy teased.

“It wasn’t, but now I’m going to have to cover it up to leave the house.”

“Or don’t.” George shrugged, and you looked at him. That, combined with the continued hold around your waist was definitely another thing to file away, even when in a fake relationship, George was a little possessive. “‘S not the worst state anyone’s ever seen us in.”

“But what if Arif asks?”

Anthony and Lucy stared at you quizzically. Silently asking, ‘That’s what you’re worried about?’

“Just tell him I gave it to you.” he paused as if remembering that the circumstances weren’t exactly common, “For a case.”

You nodded defeatedly.

“I suppose.”

“Besides.” George had that look in his eye. “You’re the one that liked it.”

Causing the others to laugh as you swatted his arm.

“And you didn’t? One more for good luck?” You reminded him. And he smiled in a way that had heat stirring in your belly.

“I think that was the good luck one,” and he touched the side of your neck again before letting the arm fall to his side. And you struggled not to react so visibly that the others would tease you for it, avoiding Lucy’s eyes specifically.

Something in the air tonight was making George cheeky and touchy, and it was turning you into a swooning damsel. To combat this, you rolled your eyes at his smile, turning to your friends and wrapping an arm around George’s as a tether at the same time.

“But really, did you find anything out?”

“Not much, no,” Lockwood answered.

“He’s lying. Someone from Fittes said that Satchell’s is going to be coming out with some kind of iron tape so that we can do perimeters easier. But that’s still in development.”

Your focus drifted in and out as she recounted what they’d learnt, Lockwood and George’s infrequent additions sometimes catching your attention as you gazed at the closest reflective surface you could, trying to catch a glimpse of the lovebite he’d given you.

“Hello? Is anybody home?” Lucy was waving a hand in front of your face.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I asked what you’d thought of going to the archives with George and me tomorrow, research some of that case I was just talking about.”

She’d been talking about a case? Oops.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, I think I’m just more tired than I realised.”

She looked at you suspiciously but ultimately relented. “Ok. I’m about done for the night, too. Lockwood?”

“I’m more than happy with how tonight’s turned out. I’ll have to figure out how we can use you two to get more cases.”

You looked at George worriedly and saw him reflect your expression.

✧☽────•⋆°˖⋅✹⋅˖°⋆

The cab ride home made you realise how overwhelming the gala had been, even in the short time you’d been present. When you’d gotten home, you’d changed almost immediately. You truly were tired of being there, at the very least. And damn it. You were getting all worked up again thinking about earlier. You closed your door, too distracted to notice it didn’t click shut as usual.

Whilst you had changed out of the dress and bra, you couldn’t be bothered to change out of the underwear, vowing to properly clean yourself in the morning and into your comfiest pyjamas. The night was warm enough for cotton shorts, a loose top covering your torso.

Thus faces your new dilemma.

Trying to calm yourself and focus on something other than the sexual tension so suddenly evident between yourself and George without acknowledging tonight’s event, which is precisely how you ended up with a hand in your pyjama shorts.

Your hands moved lower, under the lingerie Lucy had so graciously gifted you— fuck, don’t think about her right now.

You bite your lip to stop a whimper, panting heavily as your fingers move against you as you try to recall the way he’d repeatedly placed an arm around you possessively tonight, the warmth of his hand against your hip still being fresh in your memory.

Vaguely, you could hear footsteps in the hallway, trying to be quieter as you continued to work yourself and resuming once you thought you heard the footsteps fade.

Your eyes squeezed shut, imagining it was George’s between your legs.

Maybe you’d be able to run your hand through his hair and see how soft it was for yourself as he went down on you.

Moaning softly as you tipped your head back onto your pillow, exposing the very neck he’d kissed earlier, and if you focused, you could feel his answering smile against the column of flesh.

“G.. ge-“

You couldn’t bring yourself to finish stuttering out the whisper of his name, trying to imagine what his touches could have been if you’d both not been fully clothed. Wishing that you hadn’t stopped him earlier to see truly how far he would have gone.

The sound of your door swinging broke through your thoughts, your hand stopping as you paused, opening one eye slowly to see George leaning smugly against the doorframe. Your legs clenched together.

“No, please, don’t stop on my account.”

You let out a long, low groan, sliding your hands out of your shorts and rolling over to hide your burning cheeks in your bed.

“How long?”

“Long enough.”

You groaned again. This was beyond embarrassing. It was humiliating. Sure, he’d been in various states of undress around you. But that was just normal stuff, coming out of his room not wearing pants, he’s done that around everyone, and he certainly hadn’t been caught pleasuring himself by the person he was jerking off thinking of.

“You. You should’ve knocked. You can’t just come in!”

George huffed a laugh, “Your door was unlocked, and you weren’t answering. I wanted to see if you needed anything washed to go to the archives tomorrow.”

He paused, apparently intent on enjoying the moment, “But it seems you need a hand with something else, don’t you, angel?”

You would have to move to another country. Wales could always use agents, right? Surely? Maybe there you could find some other hot guy to pine over and hope he gave you his affection. Because this was getting to the point of mortification.

George chuckled, and you heard the floorboards creak, then felt the bed dip down. Your eyes widened where you were hiding your face. Was he sitting on your bed?

“I take back what I said earlier, this is officially the most embarrassed I’ve ever been.”

“Look at me, please?”

Slowly, you turned your head to face him. His expression was unlike anything you’d seen from him yet, he looked like he was going to eat you alive.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed. We all do it.”

He said matter-of-factly, and despite yourself, you nodded.

“Even you?” You wrinkled your nose and made a face of mock surprise, which had him wryly looking at you.

“I’m not going to answer that.” He said, moving further up your bed, gesturing for you to sit up.

“What are you doing?” Your eyes narrowed as you watched him, face still hot despite him assuring you.

Surprisingly forward tonight, George hummed. “Well… clearly, I interrupted you while you were doing something you needed to finish.” He paused, readjusting your pillow. “And I’d really like to help you finish. If that’s alright with you.” One of his hands touched the bare skin on your thigh, watching your reaction for any hesitation.

“That’s alright with me.”

It was astounding how quickly your embarrassment had snapped back into arousal.

You shuffled closer to the centre of the bed, and he slotted himself behind you. His legs wrapped around your own as he pulled your torso so that your back was flush with his chest.

You swallowed hard.

“Are you sure, angel?”

“Yes. Please.”

His face was just beside your head, above your right shoulder. Gradually, his hand snaked underneath your shorts, a soft “Wow,” escaping his lips as his fingers grazed the dampness of the underwear covering you.

You rested your head on his shoulder, exposing your neck again, which he rewarded by peppering it with kisses and soft bites.

His other hand moved to touch the soft skin underneath your shirt, and you could feel your breathing increase rapidly. This was real.

“Were you thinking of me?” He spoke so quietly you almost missed it, and you whimpered. “Hm? Were you touching yourself while thinking of me?”

“Yes.” You responded, already feeling lightheaded under his care.

Beside your ear, he inhaled sharply. “All this just thinking of me?” He seemed in awe.

“Yeah, Georgie.” You confirmed.

He shifted his hands to pull the shorts down and kissed your neck in a way you knew it left another mark.

Briefly, he felt the material of your underwear again, running his finger along the underside of the elastic.

“These feel special.”

“They’re— Lucy got them for me.”

“You were wearing lingerie tonight?”

“You knew that she was buying lingerie?”

“Yeah? She asked me what colours you liked, and I… prodded.”

You didn’t know whether to focus on the fact that he had known what she bought you, or that he had informed what it was that was bought, or even that he knew what you liked to the point of being consulted.

“If it’s anything, thank goodness you didn’t tell me.”

“Huh?”

“We wouldn’t have made it through the gala.”

You turned to look at him and realised he was being serious. His desire to see you in them would have been made into his most recent obsession.

“M— maybe I’ll put the set on for you some other time.”

He smiled, moving your shirt collar so that he could kiss your shoulder.

“I’d really like that, sweetheart.”

His hand slipped into your underwear, mimicking your earlier motions of collecting from between your moist folds. His fingers slid back and forth a few passes until you whined impatiently.

“So wet,” he murmured. “I think I can get you wetter.” He whispered against your ear, a promise.

The pad of his middle finger drew slow circles around your clit, and the hand in your shirt moved upwards to gently knead your breast, causing your nipples to stiffen.

“Oh, George.” You sighed pleasantly, and he groaned quietly in response.

“Have to be quieter for me, love. Not that I don’t want to hear you, just that I don’t want the others to as well.” He increased the pressure, and you fought back a moan, “Think you can do that for me, angel?” and you nodded quickly, not trusting your ability to speak at the moment.

“Such a good girl for me,” he praised.

You didn’t even remember how he’d ended up on your bed, embarrassment lost under his skilful hands.

“Please.” you whimpered, hips squirming against him, his fingers moving faster against you. Simultaneously, he rolled the nipple in his hand between his fingers, causing a low whine to slip through your lips.

“Shhh, that’s it, love.” He nipped at the skin of your neck softly, soothing it soon after by placing soft kisses against it. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You turned your head, wanting to see him even if it was through half-lidded eyes.

The sight of him had you sucking in a quick breath; his eyebrows pinched together, mouth slightly ajar, and cheeks reddened. His eyes had that look in them again, which you were quickly realising was something akin to heat or desire. George looked almost blissed out as he focused on giving you pleasure.

You released a soft moan, panting as he continued, and his brow creased further. His eyes snapped shut as he listened to the broken noises you struggled to suppress, causing you to realise that he was getting off on this. He was enjoying making you fight not to make pleased little noises, the evidence of the effect of him on you. You wanted to kiss him desperately.

Your left hand moved sluggishly upwards, hesitantly cupping his cheek, and you gently traced your thumb down the cheekbone. His eyes flew open, and he turned slightly so that his gaze landed on your face. Fuck, he looked so good. He raised the same brows you had been observing earlier in silent question, and you felt yourself growing shy despite the circumstances you were currently in.

“Mm?”

You bit your lip, still gently tracing the shape of his cheek and being partially distracted by his actions. Tentatively you moved your face closer to his, lifting slightly off of his shoulder and tilting your head for a better angle. Your gaze kept flicking to his lips, then back to his eyes. He licked his lips, readjusting slightly so you could continue forward more comfortably.

“Please?” You whispered, and he nodded.

Your lips barely connected at first before moving ever closer, George finally understanding your earlier wordless begging and further uniting the two of you. Urgently you tried to convey your feelings for him in this– possibly single– kiss. The hand that was on his cheek was now against his jaw, fingers playing with the hair peeking out from behind his ear. Your other hand now came to a loose grip around the wrist that was down your shorts, taking pleasure in just feeling the rotation before falling to your side again.

You moved back to take a breath, his hand that was under your top moved around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You could feel him hard against your back. Then, it moved to join his other hand under your underwear, avoiding the wonderful movements made by his fingers, rubbing along your folds, and a moment later, you felt one of his long fingers pressing into you, both testing and teasing. A pleased sigh slipping out of him as he realised how easy it was for him to move in and out of you before he added another finger, making your jaw go slack as you fought off the noises he was willing to escape.

He took that reaction as an opportunity to kiss you deeper, lips moving languidly against your own, drawing soft aborted moans from you.

You pulled back again to look down at yourself, his tan arms against your skin, shirt ridden up from his earlier touching.

Breathlessly, your gaze shifted to his face again and whimpered, “George.”

He looked into your eyes and smiled. That had your heartbeat quickening, the butterflies in your stomach causing your orgasm to approach more rapidly. His smile grew as he felt you clench down on him.

“Just for my smile?” He looked pleasantly confused. And you groaned against him.

“Y’r so pretty.” You slurred against him, lust-drunk. “‘S not my fault.”

He hummed in amusement.

Your eyes fluttered shut, hips moving against him as his fingers pumped in and out of you, his others working just as relentlessly against your clit. Shuddering as he kissed just below your ear, where it connected with your jaw. Breathy whines became quiet needy moans, and you couldn't help but tilt his head so slightly to press your own kisses to the side of his mouth and cheek.

“So good to me. Y’r so good t’ me, George.”

And you heard him groan in response. Once again, you clenched in reaction.

“Let go for me, angel.” He murmured, softly biting where he could reach. “I know you’re close. I can feel it.”

He was right, you were close. His warmth pressed against you, combined with his hands and the kisses and bites he had been determinedly leaving on your throat, had you just at your tipping point.

He increased the pressure of his fingers, angling the others just so, and you couldn’t help but moan at it as your back arched.

“Geo— Georgie.” You whispered, the pet name sounding all the more affectionate in your haze.

“Let go for me, please? I’d really like to see it, love.”

And you did.

His odd fascination with you spurring him to continue his ministrations in order to draw it out as long as he could, watching your face contort, and your chest rise and fall, not stopping until you shook in his arms.

Slowly, he removed his hands from your shorts, leaving you to recover in his embrace.

Your mind was completely devoid of comprehensible thoughts, face angled into the crook of his neck as you regained sentience after the mind-numbing orgasm he had just gifted you with. You kissed at the skin there, the pair of you sighing contentedly at the feeling.

You felt him shift behind you and started to awaken further from what felt like a very strange but very good dream, and you realised what had just happened between each of you.

He has just caught you masturbating to him, and instead of running for the hills, he… did that. You had let him— invited him to do that. You must have stiffened against him because he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“You… caught me in a private moment and stayed, is all.”

“Mm? All of which I thought was quite nice.”

You frowned at him, but you knew he could see you didn’t mean it.

“‘S just odd. That’s all.” Then, quieter as you looked away, you added, “I didn’t know you even liked me.” And he scoffed, drawing your attention once again.

“I lay into you like a vampire in public, and you didn’t think I liked you?”

“Well, when you say it like that.”

He shifted, and you felt the bulge of his hardness against your back again. He had gotten hard just getting you off. Your eyes widened as he stuck the two fingers he’d just been fucking into you inside of his mouth. His eyes shut briefly, and you saw his cheeks hollow as he sucked your arousal off of his fingers.

“Oh, that’s trouble.”

“How do you mean?”

“You taste really good, angel.”

You inhaled sharply, a second wave of lust washing over you, and he opened his eyes to do that small, knowing smirk at you, the same one he did when he knew something you didn’t, which was often.

You could feel your heart hammering in your chest.

“I’d like a repeat of this if you don’t mind.”

You rolled your eyes fondly at him. “You just reduced me to mush, and you think I wouldn’t want that to happen again?”

He huffed a laugh, gently nudging you to get you to flip over and lay properly onto him, bringing his hardness back to the forefront of your mind.

“Do you..?”

“What? Oh, no.”

You deflated slightly.

“As lovely as that would be, angel,” he continued, “I’m knackered, and I want your energy up for tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow? Besides the archives, I mean?”

“Oh, didn’t you know? You’re feeling kind of feverish, so I have to stay home and look after you, and would you please go with her, Lockwood? The archives can be terribly boring when you’re alone.” He was smiling at you as though recounting a funny story, and he pulled blankets over the pair of you, so he was planning to stay the night, it appeared. Or at least until early in the morning when he woke.

“George, are you trying to get me alone tomorrow?”

“Yes. Wasn’t that obvious?” he deadpanned, and you couldn’t help the fond smile in response, and you hummed instead of answering.

“Besides, if not tomorrow, I’ll find some other way to hear those pretty noises you make while you’re under me.”

Your cheeks burned, and you buried your face under his jaw.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I certainly hope not, I don’t want to experiment on your ghost.”

“That was almost sweet?”

“I meant it.”

You were just dozing off when he broke the silence.

“Why angel?”

“Hm?”

“Your pet name, why an angel?”

“Oh.” You moved to get more comfortable now that you were more aware of your surroundings again. “It reminds me of you.”

He waited for you to continue, not letting you out of that so easily.

“Do you remember the time we went to Arif’s together? The grocery boy had left out some things, so we decided to pick up doughnuts on our way home.”

“Last summer?”

You nodded against his collarbone.

“And when we were walking home, and I dropped it for some reason–”

He cut you off, silently adding, “A bird flew right in front of us.”

“And I got so surprised I dropped it,” you amended, recalling the bird now, too. “But I tried to catch it and went tumbling into the pavement?”

A faint exhale of a laugh came from above you, and you knew he was laughing at you even now.

“When I looked up at you, the sun was right behind you and…” Suddenly shy, you drifted off.

“Yes?” He prompted.

“You were laughing, and I couldn’t find myself to care because the sun was behind you. It lit up the edges of your hair like a halo, that’s why. It’s… I really like that memory.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I… may have asked Lockwood to stay home so I could take you instead. You’ve liked me since then?”

You laughed suddenly, surprising yourself. “We’re totally useless. Probably longer– I bet if I asked Lucy to take Anthony instead of us tomorrow, she would. She’s probably sick of me pining.”

“She’s got no ground to stand on. She and Lockwood were way worse.” He complained.

“Yeah?”

“And I had to deal with it alone.”

“But not anymore,” you said softly. “You have me now.” and he hugged you tighter to him. “We might have to buy me a scarf, though.”

“Oh, definitely. Don’t let them see tomorrow, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

George Casper Karim was unbearable.

His big stupid head still told you off for taking the biscuit, but now it would bend down and kiss you softly too.

And he still was so helpful, but now you could really see how he picked favourites and was secretly incredibly pleased he chose you, even if it meant investing what must count as an industrial-grade concealer so that his dutiful ironing was the only thing that made an impression on the client.

But now, he was even sweeter. His touches lingered and were more frequent. He still wouldn’t touch the others as openly, but your space and his space soon became shared. He was unbearable.

He still rolled his eyes as you tried to find a nickname of his very own, admonishing you with a heatless “Angel.” but you knew, you just knew you’d find the perfect fit one day.

He made your world spin, and you couldn’t help but always feel warm, safe and happy with him.

Which, without your knowing, was infectious. Spread to him like a leaf unfurling.

You were unbearable.

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #locklyle #george karim #smut fic #i might do another but dont get your hopes up #george karim x you #george karim x reader

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ghouly-boiiiii · 10 months ago

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My Name Is Cooper

Chapter 1

A Finger for a Finger

(Lucy x Cooper Howard / The Ghoul)

Next Chapter >>

Tags: angst, fluff, romance, humor, banter, femdom, alcohol and drug use, eventual smut

Summary: Follows Lucy and The Ghoul on their journey after the events of Season 1. Lucy has to come to terms with what she’s learned about the company and people she once trusted with her life and the future of the world, and the bounty hunter's rough exterior starts to break down as he begins to see his old self in her.

After coming across an abandoned vault, they decide to spend the night there and take advantage of its remaining amenities. While there, Lucy finds some of Cooper Howard’s old movies… The same movies she grew up watching with her dad. She puts them in, and as she recalls distant memories and struggles to cope with the truth about her father, she comes to another startling realization…

Authors Note: I just wanted to write something with these two. Not sure where it's gonna go, but I've got at least 3-4 chapters in mind, and there will be smut somewhere in there lol. I just think they have an interesting dynamic and much potential for witty banter and an interesting romantic/sexual relationship. Especially with the idea that Lucy may or may not have had a major crush on the actor Mr. Cooper Howard. And that The Ghoul may or may not become an absolute lost puppy for the first woman who looks at him in *that way* after 200 years of being a walking corpse.

It's gonna be an adventure. Let's see where this takes us, y'all. lol

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2,016

SPOILER WARNING: Contains all the spoilers

No trigger warnings except eventual sexy time with a zombie man.

“You’re awful quiet there, Vaulty.” The Ghoul said, breaking a long bout of silence as he glanced over his shoulder at his human companion, with Dogmeat faithfully prancing beside him.

Lucy didn’t look up at him. She just stared at the ground, dredging her feet heavily through the sand. Dawn had long passed and the sun was now beating down, but she could barely feel the burn on her cheek as her mind raced with the things she now knew.

“You ain’t said a word since we left Cali… Hell, you ain’t even beggin’ for water.” He joked, trying to prod a response out of her.

“Lucy.” She said simply.

“What now?”

“My name is Lucy.”

“Yeah? I know that… So what?”

“That’s my name…” She looked up at him, her brow slightly furrowed and voice sharp with agitation. “I just thought since we’re gonna be traveling together, maybe you could use it sometime…”

The Ghoul looked over his shoulder again for a moment, grinning slightly. He seemed a bit surprised by her tone, but also somewhat amused. “Hah… well, alright then, Ms. Lucy MacLean.” He said mockingly. “Tell me somethin’. Whaddaya think we gonna find when we finally catch up with that daddy a’ yours?”

The vault dweller felt her jaw clench a little and her brow furrowed more. “Why are you asking me?”

“Oh, I just thought… you been down there in that vault all this time. You ought to know somethin’.”

“Ugh… No! I don’t know shit!” She snapped, raising her head up a bit more. “…In fact… I’m the one who should be asking you the questions!” The girl narrowed her eyes towards him, zeroing in on the back of his wrinkly, bald head. “How do you know my father?”

“Hah… well… that is quite a story.” He said with a snicker. “But I think we best save that for another day.”

“I want answers.” She demanded. “Besides, we’ve got a long way to go, don’t we? Might as well talk...”

“I’m used to travelin’ alone, sweetie… Kinda prefer the peace and quiet, if I’m bein’ honest…”

“Tch…” She scoffed skeptically. “You like peace and quiet… or is that just a nice way of telling me to shut up?”

The Ghoul let out a chuckle. “Nah… If I wanted you to shut up, I’d just shoot ‘cha.”

She blinked, then picked up the pace, jogging up next to him. “Alright then… let’s talk.”

He glanced over at her, then shrugged. “Be my guest.”

“What’s your name?”

“My name?”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned it before… What do I call you?”

“I ain’t got no name, sweetie.”

“You have to have a name…”

“Not no more, I don’t.”

“Well, I have to call you something...”

“Heh…” He huffed a bit. His voice was casual, but clearly holding back some irritation. “Then you can just call me ‘Asshole’.”

“Come on. Tell me your name.”

“It don’t matter...” He said with a slight scowl. “...The man that name belonged to died a long time ago.”

Lucy stared at him a moment, then looked away, taking several steps before turning back to him. “...What... was he like?”

The Ghoul stopped in his tracks, then leaned to one side a bit and tilted his head before turning to her in exasperation. “I said you could talk. Not ask me a bunch of stupid ass questions.”

“I wanna know…” Lucy said, tilting her head a bit too as she stood her ground. “I wanna know who you were before you became… you know…” She paused as she looked him up and down with a slight sneer. “...this…”

The two-and-a-half century old bounty hunter stared at her a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. His eyes shifted towards the barren wasteland around them where Dogmeat had decided to wonder while she waited for them to continue, then looked back at the young vault dweller. “You wanna know what he was like…?” He finally said, then his eyes moved to the distance ahead of them as he continued to walk. “Well… he was a lot like you…” The Ghoul stated with a scowl. “Naive. Hopeful... Thought the world was a... good place fulla… good people who wanted to do the right thing...” The distain in his voice was palpable.

“You were… like me?” She said, her tone was both surprised and doubtful.

“I told you, Vaulty. I’m you…” He reminded her. “Only difference between us is…”

“Time.” She finished his sentence.

He looked at her a moment, then turned away and said, “That’s right…”

Lucy got quiet again, staring at the ground as they continued to walk.

A period of silence passed between them. The Ghoul found himself glancing over at her a couple times, before asking, “You worried… what this wasteland’s gonna do to ya…?” He said, his tone oddly compassionate. “What it’s gonna turn ya into…”

She quivered a bit, looked up at him, then back down.

“Well… I don’t blame ya. I’d probably feel the same way, lookin’ at me…” He glanced over and smirked at her a bit, but she didn’t respond. She didn’t even look at him. So he continued. “I hate to tell ya though… It's already started, sweetheart… But I think you already know that…” He grit his teeth together for a moment and sucked in some air between them. “Not much you can do about it, but…” He let out a somber exhale, hesitating a moment before glancing at her again and saying, “You know… it ain’t too late... to go back.”

The girl blinked, then looked up at him with wide eyes. “Go back? To where…?” Her tone was suddenly rather upset. “To the vault? That place? That…” She shook her head. “No! No, there… there’s no way I could go back…!” She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Not after… Not after knowing... what I know now…” She choked back a sob and shook her head. “Just go back…? Back to my old life and pretend… like none of this ever happened? …I can’t.”

“Hmm…” The Ghoul ground his teeth a little. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that…” He took another deep breath. “That's the problem with the truth. Once you got it, you can’t put it back… No matter how bad you might want to.”

She swallowed hard against the painful lump in her throat, then looked up at him. “...Why did you let me come with you?”

“Again, with the questions…” He said with an exasperated breath. “We both lookin’ for the same thing, ain’t we?”

“...And why should what I'm looking for matter to you?”

“It don’t. Not really, but… Shit, we goin’ in the same direction.”

Lucy was getting annoyed by how The Ghoul kept running the conversation in circles, but she wasn’t about to give up. “I don’t understand why you’re being nice to me now… Why don’t you just take me hostage again?”

The old bounty hunter snickered a little. “Well, cause I ain't got no reason to, sweetheart. I don’t just go around tormenting people for the fun of it. What kinda person you think I am, huh?”

“Huh.” She scoffed at him as if she couldn't believe the stupidity of that question. “Well… kind of… not a very good one, if we’re being completely honest.”

“Heh… Well, you’re not wrong about that... But the real question is… if that’s how ya feel, why’d you decide to come with me?”

She looked down, shook her head and shrugged. “As long as you’re not dragging me around with a rope, I think I’d rather take my chances with you than be out here on my own again…”

“Yeah… life’s full of hard decisions, ain’t it?” He turned towards her, lowering his head a little and looking at her from under the brim of his hat. “You know… I underestimated you... Ms. Lucy MacLean. I thought a cushy vault dweller like yourself would be nothin’ more than roach kibble.” He looked forward and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “But… you got somethin’ in ya. Somethin’ that’s drivin’ ya… Maybe it’s that curiosity a’ yours. Maybe a misplaced sense of justice… or… maybe something else. Whatever it is… it gives you that edge. You got that survival instinct… Aw hell, maybe I’m a little curious too…”

“Curious… about what?”

“To see how far you’re willing to take it… before you do go crawling back into that hole.”

She frowned deeply and glared at him. Her voice was quiet and shaky, but firm. “I’m… never going back down there… I don’t care… what happens up here.” Her voice began to waver and crack as she spoke. “I’m never going back… I can’t go back…”

“Yeah…” He nodded approvingly. “Because you don’t take no bullshit. That’s what I like about 'che. I respect that.”

The vault dweller, or rather former vault dweller, huffed a little. “Great… I’ve earned the respect of a murdering monster…” She said sarcastically as she wiped her eyes. “That makes me feel just… so much better…”

“Call me what you want. But like I said… just give it a little time...” He smiled a little as he continued to stride forward. “...And well... to tell you the truth, I guess I feel like I owe you one, you bringing me those vials and all….” He chuckled a little at himself. “What was that you said? Golden rule, motherfucker?”

She smirked a little, feeling justified. “Yeah… but… I... was also the one who... broke them in the first place… so…”

“That’s right, you did.” The Ghoul said playfully. “But then, I suppose I shouldn’t have been using you as bait in a poisoned river.”

“Yeah… Yeah, th-that’s right! You shouldn’t have!” Lucy yelped, suddenly getting animated as she recalled the ordeal. “That was… not very respectable behavior at all, sir!”

“Yeah… rude, huh?”

“Very rude!”

“Down right ungentlemanly.”

“The most ungentlemanly!” She huffed and puffed with righteous indignation. “A-and you know what? You do owe me! Yeah! You owe me big time, mister! You cut off my finger and… and I saved your life! I didn’t have to do that!”

The Ghoul let out an amused laugh. “Oh… I still got your finger.” He said, pausing to wiggle it in front of her.

Lucy squinted in horror as she recognized the out-of-place digit, crudely stitched onto the stump of his missing index finger. Then her eyes got wide as she leaned back, sneering in disgust. “You are… a sick, sick man.”

“What? You want it back?”

“I… found a replacement already… thanks.” She said, holding up her own bluish-gray finger.

“Never let a good body part go to waste, I say.” He said with a grin. “Besides, you did bite one a’ mine off first. Only fair you replace it.”

“Y-you kidnapped me!” She threw the blame back at him.

The Ghoul let out another laugh and Dogmeat barked in excitement. “Ah, Vaulty… it’s gonna be fun havin’ you around, ain’t it?” He said before continuing to walk.

She scoffed as she began to follow, but her voice softened a bit. “Okay… so… so does that mean I don’t have to worry about you cutting off any more of my fingers…? Or… anything else like that?”

“Well… now that depends, don’t it?”

“On what?”

“Whether you plan on bitin’ off any more a’ mine, darlin'.” He said, looking over at her. “Eye for an eye. Finger for a finger. You bite my ass, I bite your ass. Golden rule, motherfucker.”

Lucy scrunched up her face in an attempt to hide that she was trying not to laugh. “I-I… I will do my best…” She said after containing herself a little and raising her head up in a dignified, but also mockingly serious way. “But you know… sometimes… a fellas gotta eat a fella… right?”

The Ghoul laughed heartily, amused at her attempt to match his humor. “Well, in that case… next time I think you better swallow.”

She felt herself crack a smile, then began to laugh as well.

To be continued...

Next Chapter >>

#the ghoul #cooper howard #fallout #lucy maclean #fallout prime #ghoulcy #fallout show #fallout series #fallout tv series #vaultghoul #lucy x cooper #the ghoul x lucy #cooper howard x lucy maclean #lucy maclean x cooper howard #fanfiction #my posts #my fanfiction #ghouly-boi

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empressofmankind · 1 year ago

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Everyone needs hobbies, even crocodiles

And, in my unending wisdom, I've decided, (aside from Bananawani care and rearing) for no ulterior reasons at all (I promise, I am normal about this), that Crocodile's ought to be dancing.

Hear me out -

It's a very classy hobby? It (can) be very showy. And, particularly partnered-style dances (traditionally) lean on the man's lead, and many show off the partner. The fashion, is also usually flawless. And he has the figure for them tights. Ugh, them legs. Also, the tiddies.

With the whole Mafia-thematics, I lean to 20-30's (like quickstep!) but also Latin styles across the board. For, I suppose, obvious reasons.

He has the energy, stamina and strength to pull these speeds and moves off (and carry a partner's handicap if necessary) and I think it'll be very impressive because of his size. A guy that big should not be legally allowed to move that fast or that smoothly or that quietly.

But it's a BIG MOOD.

And I am weak.

So, I am having it.

Also, those legs of his? Going to shine in this.

His size is also a hitch, particularly his length and strength, but we got tall, sturdy girls who can reach a shoulder and take an impact tug - for example, Shivs is 1.92m, add some nice heels and it'll work out.

Lemme show you what I mean, so you have the proper visuals whenever you catch me the coming days whining about Croc and Shivs wiping everyone off of the dance floor, stealing their thunder.

Riccardo and Yulia are multi-times world champions, and I just. Ugh. The energy. The moves. The outfits. I could watch this on repeat forever.

youtube

I love how showy this routine is, with its quick steps and unapologetically sexual moves?? Croc and Shivs would rock this! And they'd both look great in these outfits? He wants to show off so badly how sweet and supple 'the Vice' is under that layer of iron she's got?? Poor man is unwell, but don't say it to his face.

I will probably draw them at some point, because of those outfits.

I swear, this is how people in Alabasta realise they're bisexual.

Accomplice tags to @tiredemomama & @fanaticsnail

#have some headcanon #sir crocodile #shivs #one piece crocodile #one piece oc #one piece original character #crocoshivs #croc x shivs #crocodile x oc #one piece sir crocodile #crocaine #buggy thoughts

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the-dye-stained-socialite · 1 year ago

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Blood into Roses, Roses into Honey

Explicit, Princess x OC, OC x OC(minor) Character death, Torture, Imprisonment, Canon-typical Princess, and Canon Typical Red Honey. Shooting, Stabbing, Jealousy, hands in mouth friday saturday. P.O.V. of the Captive. The Dove has achieved permanent death, and so has the Long-Dead Lover. And The Jealous Ex-Suitor. Stockholm Syndrome (yes I know it's not real but that's the better name for this), Migraines, No beta we visit the boatman like the PC. Bee-less. Please heed the tags. Word count: 1,518

The Love-Sick Captive is a private honey-hive who's developed feelings for the Princess they feed.

The final harvest of the night was done, completed. The Servant Apiarists of the Palace carried away the collected batches of honey. Organized, labelled, and red as blood. As a pair of servants filed past their cage, the Love-Sick Captive could just hear their whispers. "The Princess requested Agatha be the one to bring her honey tonight" "Damnit, we're already short-staffed with the washing, and now this? Ugh, why is it always the redheads?" Ah, the Princess. The Captive had known for... so very long who their memories were being fed to. Whom they belonged to. A Junior Apiarist had let it slip the night they were moved from the main garden to this smaller one.

They ought to be honored, he had said. Knowing their memories were being reserved for her tongue only, not to be devoured by just anyone. They would have a place of honour, a gilded cage in her personal Garden. The Captive had resented his words at the time, postulating that one cage was the same as another, gold or iron.The Apiarist had no rebuttal. Instead, he moved to transfer them to their new cage. When they attempted to escape, he had forced them inside, rougher than 'honor' would have suggested. They had already been weakened by their capture the day prior, let alone the initial feeding of that morning.

The Princess rarely tended to her Garden herself, but she was known to make visits. She had made one such visit that night. Her beauty was the most terrible thing. The Captive had spat at her feet as she approached. "Now now, little Flower. No need to be so sour," she cooed. When she reached a finger inside their cage, the Captive was quick, and bit down with force. She did not react as they had hoped. Instead of the expected yelp, her smile became sharp as a mirror shard, and she pinched their lower jaw with her thumb and bitten pointer finger. The Captive wailed as they tasted blood. She pulled their head upwards, and it was only then that they met her eyes. A the the time, the Captive would have sworn her eyes were blue, but every time they tried to remember, they were red as blood, roses, or honey. Those things were always linked. Regardless of color, they had an effect. She had explained the circumstances of their capture to them. They already knew what had happened. They were protesting the Queen's rule when Constable surronded them. Some had escaped. Most were captured. Only a few were taken to the Gardens.

The longer she looked at them, the weaker they became, in both mind and will. Eventually, it reached a point where she practically had to hold them up by their jaw alone. As she spoke, she would massage their tongue, or teeth. Their mind was revolted, but their body less so. They were certain they had drooled enough to soak through her glove. When she asked if they had regretted it, they nodded. She laughed like the shattering of glass. That was their first meeting with her. It was a memory that would never be feasted upon. The only one truly theirs, and it reeked of defiance. It stung worse than any memory-feeding could.

They had been moved here for their "immaculate selection" of memories, and "superior feelings" brought upon during consumption.That first feeding had left them feeling like wine at a tasting-party, except for the shrieking agony. Over time, the sensations became expected, familiar, and then, even pleasurable. When one is flogged near constantly, they must learn to eroticize the whip. And when one's pain brings euphoric pleasure to the person controlling the whip, well, a bond is already formed. Why fight against the nature of it all? The Princess hand-picked them as special. Chose them to provide for her, maybe even fought her own siblings for possession of them, and wasn't that romantic? If they imagined her hands sneaking in through their cage once more, slipping between their undergarments, it was nothing more than the intimacy already shared between them. She had seen so much of them already.

The gaslights of the Garden began to burn auras into the Captive's eyesight. They felt flattered. After so long, they had learned the indicators and symptoms of being chosen. This was the first. The pressure behind their eyes, which brings the Captive into the fetal position is the next. They have learned not to hold back their screams, for her Highness enjoys the music.

The Gardens wash away like an unvarnished painting in the rain. The Love-Sick Captive is in their own memory once again. This time, it is shared with an unseen, but not unknown, and not unwanted, presence. This one is- A Memory Of Devotion -a tragic, and painful day. It is made more painful by the Princess' forceful insertion. Her molestation of their memories brings the feeling of a dagger tracing whorls into their mind. There is a quality to the memory that it should not have; The smell of the Garden's roses, blood, honey, and a cloying, mind-fogging scent of violets. The Princess' personal perfume. The Captive breathes deeply through the pain which threatens to split their skull. Her closeness intoxicates them, though they cannot see, feel, or hear her. They intend to suffer beautifully for her tonight. The memory of a Long-Dead Lover is before them both. The Captive recognizes which memory this is. Once, they would have begged for her to stop, please, not this one, they can't relive this. Tonight, their shrieks will be of devotion and offering. Tears wet the Captive's cheeks. They wish to do for the Princess tonight, what their Lover did for them this remembered night.

Their Lover. He takes them by their shoulders, tells them under sweet sunlight how he loves them. Pain wraps from their eye up and around their skull, and down to their neck. A different pain wraps around their heart when his expression changes. Their body writhes, but their form is still as it's pulled into an embrace. He pulls out a pistol, and unloads as many bullets as the gun has, before twirling them in a half circle away from the gunpowder cloud. It is a poor imitation of a dance. The smell of violets is choking now. It drowns out any sensation but agony. 'She's excited to see what happens next' the Captive thinks. Through the perfume and honey, blood, roses, they imagine the things her hands might be doing at this moment. Certainly their pain and pleasure are intertwined. Logic follows that the more they suffer, the more euphoric it is for her.

They cannot help but dread what will come next. The Long-Dead Lover gasps as the knife punctures his chest. Again and again in a fierce assault. As the Captive's pain begins to mount rapidly, the memory spots the attacker. A Jealous Ex-Suitor. Someone who had once reasoned that he would kill the Captive for their betrayal. As soon as he is spotted, his already foggy eyes close, and he falls. Dead, minutes too late. His fury had propelled one final act of violence. And then too, the Lover's body fails and falls. Are the Captive's shrieks only remembered? Their pain is nearing an apex. Gravity drags them to their knees. Two paramours, each dedicated enough to kill. Both dead, blood thick and red as honey, blooming roses from their wounds. The Captive's body tenses, paralyzed as the pain reaches a breaking point. They are suspended in their torment for her. Have they done well? Has she received what she wished? Tears pool in the Garden as their pain crosses the tipping point. Slowly, so slowly, the agony and trance fade. Too quickly, they are alone again, and back in gilded bars.They feel less like wine nowadays, and more like a full course meal, Thoroughly enjoyed, and hollowed to the bone. Much pain still lingers, but moreso they are exhausted. Violets still cloud their mind. They think of her, consumed in ecstasy, their own bloody, rose-tasting honey upon her silver tongue. They were the first chosen to be indulged upon tonight. The Junior Apiarist was correct, it was an honour to bring the Princess her nightly pleasures. The thought of exactly which nightly pleasure sends an eager thrill down their spent body.

~~~

The Captive was awoken early the next morning. They rubbed their puffy, sore-covered eyes, getting them to focus on.. oh. The Captive forced themself into a kneeling position when they saw her. "Good morning," she said. "Good morning, your Highness." "Open," she commanded. They opened their mouth, quickly and obediently.

"Good," she cooed, reached through their cage, and took them by the mouth once more. The Captivating Princess lifted them to meet her gaze. Her perfume coated their tongue, and they melted in response. "My, how you've bloomed, sweet Flower." She leaned close to the bars that separated them, and whispered "I greatly enjoyed myself last night. I look forward to the rest of your batch." The Captive keened under her praise.

#fallen london #dye stained fics #the captivating princess #fallen london fanfic #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #smut fic #ish #suggestive #definetly

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goddevouringserpent · 5 months ago

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WOTR Companions First and Final Impressions

taking the open tag @the-raging-tempest left over at Discord cause I really really wanted to do this hehehehe :3 it was very very fun, even if time-consuming, so I am open tagging anyone who wants to do it! (& please do feel free to tag me in it because I very much want to see 👀)

the first impressions match the first actual interaction my KCs had with the companions, for which I am using the first real dialogue they ever had; so, for example, although they both technically met Camellia at the Kenabres festival, I am counting the first meeting as being in the caves under Kenabres.

First impressions

Seelah

Irenni: "A spot of hope in the middle of so much destruction! You lighten my heart with your presence, lady knight."

Kaija: "Paladin of Iomedae, huh? Well, you don't seem as stuck-up as the rest of your kin, at least. Mind your own business, I'll mind mine, and we should get along fine."

Camellia

Irenni: "So poised and elegant... I'm surprised by how nonplussed you seem, but in all fairness, you look high-born, and I suppose nobles are taught to conceal their emotions."

Kaija: "Ugh. Do we really have to babysit this spoiled brat? Hope you actually know how to use that rapier of yours, pretty girl, 'cause I'm not sticking my neck out for you."

Lann

Irenni: "A valiant warrior with a noble heart, I can tell. 'Tis a pity you downplay your own worth with such ferocity."

Kaija: "I know your type. You hate who you are, don't you, underground crusader? Tale as old as time. Shed those chains already—they'll never see you like you want them to see you. We're all just horned freaks to the respectable folks."

Wenduag

Irenni: "You are so angry... We mean no harm to you or yours. Let us help, please. We can only save each other if we stick together!"

Kaija: "There's a shrewdness in you, isn't there? You're a clever one. A survivor. Dangerous. It's fine, I can work with that. You're nothing new to me, huntress."

Woljif

Irenni: "I hope I'm not making a mistake by helping you. You seem harmless enough, but that shadow... There's something wrong about it. Do you even know the nature of the magic you wield?"

Kaija: "A kindred spirit. You're the only one here who understands. I see it in your eyes. We have the same look, you and I, the same kind of dirt under our fingernails, the same bloodied teeth. I've got your back, for as long as this arrangement lasts—way things are, turning my back on you would be like turning my back on myself."

Ember

Irenni: "Oh, you sweet soul... 'tis fortunate Andoletta watches over you, but still—you should be somewhere safe, enjoying your childhood, not bearing witness to the horrors of war."

Kaija: "I can tell there's some sort of strength in you, but you've gotta toughen up, kid, or the world will chew you up and spit you out."

Daeran

Irenni: "You behave as though you knew exactly what to say in order to vex me, Count Arendae. I ought to chastise you for being so irresponsible and inconsiderate, but you would not care at all. And... truth be told, you are fascinating, in your own way. A weakness in me, perhaps. We shall see. In the meantime—make yourself useful."

Kaija: "Hello there, yet-another-noble-prick in the endless assortment of Mendevian noble pricks! At least you're fun to be around, I'll give you that. Maybe someday I'll crash one of your parties. You might even thank me for it."

Nenio

Irenni: "A fellow scholar! Oh, this is so exciting. I cannot even blame you for your... peculiarities; truly, all of us who share an interest for the academic can sympathize, to one degree or another. I do so look forward to trading theories with you."

Kaija: "Heard about people like you, here and there. Strange stories. Sad, often. Leave it to a genius to lose her mind—there's a certain irony in it. But I think we'll work well together, long as you follow my lead."

Galfrey

Irenni: "Everlight, I feel so inadequate. The Queen of Mendev! Here! Sitting at my table! It is a pleasure and an honour, Your Majesty, although I wish the circumstances were different... and I wish I were a bit more put-together for the occasion..."

Kaija: "Bah. Mendev's golden figurehead. Must feel good, to come marching in and have everyone prostrate themselves at your feet, even though you did absolutely jack shit. Don't expect any special treatment from me, Your Majesty. Far as I'm concerned, you're just some freeloader at our table."

Sosiel

Irenni: "A servant of the Eternal Rose is always welcome! I see a sincere kindness in your eyes that puts me at ease... and Sarenrae knows that is exactly what I need right now."

Kaija: "Nice to have another artist nearby. Not many of us here. And there's a steel in you, a fire. It burns low, more a simmer than anything else, but I can tell. I've been there. No wonder, after the losses you've experienced. You'll do fine. Channel that fire."

Regill

Irenni: "Hellknight, is it? Hmph. I guarantee you will disagree with my methods, Paralictor; I hope, for both our sakes, that you are still willing to obey my orders."

Kaija: "Credit where it's due, you're one hell of a fighter. Don't really mind the stick up your ass if we can use it in our favour. 'Sides, a little spot of pragmatism might do us some good in the long run. Tired of all the crusaders with their heads in the clouds."

Arueshalae

Irenni: "My heart reaches out to you, as yours does to mine. I am aware it is ill-advised to trust a succubus, but, as servants of good, ought we not embrace any demons who choose to leave behind the stain of evil and embark upon a different path? Is it not our duty to aid them in this difficult journey? I open my arms for you, Arueshalae, even if it means the death of me."

Kaija: "I should be suspicious, and yet... I heard you. I saw you. In the temple of Desna, and in the shrine. That... that can't just be a demonic trick, right? There are some things the Abyss can't touch. But an ascending succubus... Demons aren't capable of redemption. It isn't in their nature. It's what everyone says, isn't it? But... but maybe... Maybe there's a chance... Maybe, if you..."

Greybor

Irenni: "Why in the world would you refuse to address the demon invasion going on, but take on an assassination contract? I am astounded by the greed and selfishness involved in your thought process, but, most of all, I am baffled by your short-sightedness. There will be no gold to reclaim should the armies of the Abyss prevail, good sir."

Kaija: "'Go and get reinforcements from the Defender's Heart,' heh... You don't know who you're talking to, master assassin. Don't need help to kill these demons. Go ahead and take care of your mark—just don't get in my way. Wouldn't want ya to have your limbs cleaved off."

Parting thoughts

Seelah

Irenni: "What a joy, to have shared this fight with you. You have kept me steady, grounded in hope, and I am so glad to have done the same for you. Do not let anyone extinguish your spark. It is people like you that give our struggles meaning."

Kaija: "You've proven me wrong, time and time again. Never thought I'd be happy about that, but I guess there's always a first time for everything. It's been an honour fighting at your side, Seelah... And an even bigger honour drinking at your side!"

Camellia

Irenni: "I... I tried, Camellia. I really did. I would have helped you, if only you had been truthful. But in the end, I... I did what I had to do. I am not proud of it, but you forced my hand."

Kaija: "I keep telling myself it was for the best, and maybe one day I'll believe it. We would've ruined each other, beloved, you know that as well as I do. Better to stop when... when we still could. But that doesn't mean I've stopped loving you. I never will. You'll always have a part of me. Wherever you go, whatever you do... be safe. Think of me, from time to time. I'll think of you."

Lann

Irenni: "It is so good to see you happy, at long last. You deserve it—you always have. You have performed all your duties admirably, Lann, both towards the crusade and towards your people. Find comfort, now. Live the life you want. May your aim be ever true and steady, my friend."

Kaija: "You've got to let go, at some point. Move on. Bury it or it'll bury you."

Wenduag

Irenni: "I bear you no ill will. You were deeply wounded, I can tell that now, and my only regret is being unable to heal you. May you find peace in the afterlife."

Kaija: "Hasn't always been easy, because I'll be fucked if you don't like to make everything as hard as possible, but... Here we are. Looking at us from where we stand at the end, I can say I'm glad to have met you. Glad to know you. You've found your own power, your own strength, and—I respect you, for that. See myself in you a little bit. Who would've thought, huh?"*

Woljif

Irenni: "I am so, so proud of you, and deeply ashamed I ever doubted you. So many would have fallen prey to the temptation of demonic power, but you... I know it was what you had wanted all your life, and yet you found strength enough in yourself to refuse it! I am humbled by you, Woljif."

Kaija: "The light of my life. That's what you are. Can't say I believe in soulmates or none of that, but I do believe in choosing someone over and over, with your whole heart, every day of your life, and... Well, I'll keep choosing you, over and over, for as long as I draw breath. You've changed me, deep to my core, and once upon a time I would've fought against that—you would've had me kicking and screaming to get out, heh—but now I wouldn't have it any other way. Wouldn't have you any other way. I'm with you, dearest, 'til the end, through thick and thin. It's you and me."

Ember

Irenni: "Your kindness is brilliant, Ember. Blinding. I hardly understand it myself, and I have felt the touch of Heaven! I know you do not believe in divine intervention, but... I cannot, in good faith, claim our meeting to be a coincidence. Both of us, devoted to mercy and redemption and salvation... We are the company we keep, I suppose, but we are altogether too similar in ideals for it to not mean something. I shall be pleased to accompany you further, should our paths meet again."

Kaija: "First time in my life I've ever been so thankful for someone getting their thoughts in order. You were heading down a bad road, kid. Putting yourself in danger. And—d'you think I could've lived with myself if I'd let you and you'd gotten killed because of it? I know it feels bad to have to temper your expectations, but you'll thank me later."

Daeran

Irenni: "Ah, my love, what I wouldn't do for you. We have not had an easy time of it, have we? A rocky beginning, a middle fraught with difficulties and obstacles... We have been our own worst enemies, in truth. But there is not a single thing that I would change. I am honoured to love you and to have you love me; to know you and to have you know me. I am so fortunate that you have chosen to trust me with your life, your heart, your freedom, even. I will keep you safe, no matter what it takes. You can rest lightly in my hands—I promise. You will never regret letting me love you."

Kaija: "Not too proud to admit I misjudged you. I mean, in a sense I had your measure as soon as I met you, knew exactly what kinda person I was dealing with, but in another sense, you've surprised me. Never thought I'd find a real friend in you. My best friend, even. Life's full of little jokes and twists, isn't it? I think we can both drink to that, and not just because we'll take any excuse to drink. So—here's to your health, Count."

Nenio

Irenni: "I... I don't understand. Why would you ever want... What led you to... to make the choices you made? You are worth more than that, Nenio. I pray it is not too late for you."

Kaija: "Somehow what's going on with you is less outlandish than what I thought was going on with you. It's fine. Seems like a lot, but you'll pull through, if you really want to. I believe you can."

Galfrey

Irenni: "You carry your burdens, and I carry mine. I neither envy nor resent you. Let us part in peace. I wish you well, Galfrey of Mendev."

Kaija: "Fool. If you keep holding your chin up, your neck'll snap. We're not on even footing anymore—I've long since surpassed ya, and you know it. Write a letter to your goddess if you're so mad about it."

Sosiel

Irenni: "It is good to see you have healed. You were teetering on the edge of something so grim, far from the light of Shelyn, and although I had faith in your ability to remain steadfast, I worried for you, Sosiel. Yet you have so gracefully recovered from the blows life dealt you. A soul as gentle and good as yours deserves nothing but that, my friend."

Kaija: "I know it wasn't what you expected, but did good. Kept your spine straight when it counted. Didn't back down. Opened your eyes. So that closure you got, Sosiel, those answers—that was all you, in the end. It was your actions that saved both of you. Take pride in that."

Regill

Irenni: "We have not always seen eye to eye... quite the opposite, in fact... but in the end, I am glad to have fought alongside you, Regill Derenge. I think, in better times, we could have been friends, but war can make strangers of us all."

Kaija: "Surprised at how well we work together. Or maybe not. It's all in the fighting mettle, after all—we're warriors through and through, and I guess even through our differences we could recognise that in each other. Steel calls to steel. I respect you, Regill, and I'm pretty sure the feeling's mutual. Wouldn't be where you are now if it weren't, yeah?"

Arueshalae

Irenni: "There are too many things I should have told you, too many things I should tell you... but now is not the time. Later, once we are free. Then I will... Everlight's mercy, I just need you to know how deeply I care for you, how much I treasure and cherish and admire you, how badly I want to—augh, later, Irenni, later!"**

Kaija: "You say that I saved you, that you owe me so much, but c'mon, Arue, don't sell yourself short: you saved me every bit as much as I saved you. A mutual thing, yeah? Pulled each other outta the Abyss. I'm so proud of you, sister, and so grateful for everything you've done."

Greybor

Irenni: "Truthfully, I was not expecting you to take my advice to heart, and I am pleasantly surprised you have chosen to do so. I wish you an uneventful life, Greybor. Enjoy every moment."

Kaija: "A professional, through and through. We did some good work together. You've a... productive future ahead of you, I'm sure—who knows, maybe I'll require your services sometime, hah."

*Kaija's parting answer for Wenduag is largely a placeholder because this is my first time recruiting Wendu (I'd wanted to before, but I couldn't rationalise how/why Kai would, until now) & I am still figuring out their dynamic. however, I feel there might be... Something there. as in, the inklings of a very interesting ship dynamic. and I can never say no to toxic yuri, it's my kryptonite, soooo I am just kinda leaving that reply there for now lol

**Irenni romances Arueshalae, but only after the game ends. during the events of the game itself she's too busy dealing with her feelings towards Daeran to even try and address her feelings towards Arue. they are very much present, Irenni just... sets them aside, for the time being, because she already has enough on her plate emotions-wise as-is LOL but after everything is done, they become an item :3

#Maia speaks #OC: Irenni #OC: Kaija #Irenni's parting answers take place before the final fight for... reasons. :3 #Kai's are more ambiguous in that regard (could be before or after)#if you read all of this I owe you my life and you can summon me for difficult battles btw.

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foxymoxynoona · 1 year ago

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After the Applause (Ch. 5)

Header and linebreaks by @awrkives

Single Dad Jimin x Female OC

SUMMARY: Jimin doesn't know how he would have made it this far after the shattering of his world without the support of his thoughtful, generous, helpful neighbor. Hanbyul has lived next to hottie Jimin and his adorable daughter for years now, long enough to remember the wife he was so devoted to and lost far too young. With each safely ensconced on their side of the brick wall of the Parks' grief, it will take an enterprising little scientist to set the stage for a second chance at love.

CW/tags: grief, prior loss of spouse/parent, comfort, explicit sex, secondhand embarrassment, sort of love triangle/web/rat's nest, fluff, cursing, dating apps, fuckboy friends, dancer Jimin, stubborn dad Jimin, stubborn pre-teen daughter, miscommunication, pining

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

“So now you’re ghosting him.”

“No! I’m not ghosting anyone,” Hanbyul insisted, burying her face in the shredded throw pillow on the couch. Despite Hudu’s lifelong grudge against all throw pillows, she bought new ones every time her family came to visit in an effort to make her place look nice, only for him to shred them within days.

“You had sex with him and then you never talked to him again.”

“It’s only been a few days!” Hanbyul defended. “He’s only messaged me once.”

“Because he’s waiting for you to respond because clearly he abides by the proper messaging etiquette. And before you even say that he took a week before, didn’t his mom die or something?”

“She didn’t die, she was just in the hospital… I have family too. I’ll just say you had the baby…”

She could practically see her sister’s aggrieved sigh as she snarked, “Yes, lying, great foundation for a relationship.”

“But I can’t have a relationship with him.”

“Why not? Jimin’s not waiting for you.”

“Ugh why are sisters such….” Hanbyul trailed off, not wanting to actually call her a bitch even jokingly but perfectly happy to let her sister fill in the blanks. Leave it to Sobyul to take nothing away from Hanbyul’s whole sordid tale except he’s great at sex and loves his mom? Lock it down.

“I’m just honest because I love you. So Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin know each other, so what? They don’t seem to be close friends anyway, so what does it matter? And even if they were, there’s nothing between you and Jimin that you need to protect. He’s not your boyfriend or your ex, he’s your neighbor.”

“Correct, but it still feels… weird.”

“Nobody knows about your crush but me. It’s not like they know by looking at you. Crushes come and go. You’ll get over it. It’s not a reason not to pursue something with Kim Namjoon, who you do like, right?”

“I… do…” Hanbyul rolled onto her back. And then onto her front. And then onto her back again, restless and uncomfortable. She didn’t know how to explain any of this. She didn’t want to make herself look even more pathetic to Sobyul by admitting that she thought her feelings for Jimin ran much deeper than a crush. She didn’t want to make her sister realize she was stupid for not being so sure about her feelings about Namjoon. He was objectively an amazing guy, but was she really into him? Or was she just lonely? Or desperate to fall for someone who wasn’t Jimin, who actually had an interest in her. That sounded awful! But even worse, she couldn’t bring herself to voice that naive little dream: what if Jimin changed his mind about me and did care about me someday? Would he date someone who had dated his friend?

She was mortified by her own thought, and yet she couldn’t let go of it. At least she ought to mention to Jimin she was seeing a friend of his, right? As a courtesy? But then she ought to also mention she and Jungkook still talked in the app sometimes. Just sporadically. And that when she’d run into Taehyung on her way taking Hudu out yesterday he’d walked her for a little bit. To get a coffee, actually. Which he had insisted on paying for.

No, she knew she didn’t need to disclose these things. Maybe a secret part of her wanted to, wanted to see if Jimin would be bothered. If he cared at all.

But he wouldn’t. It wasn’t fear of rejection that kept her from admitting it, because rejection was a certainty; it was that she didn’t want reality to squash the fantasy once and for all.

“Just tell him,” Sobyul said, as if she’d been reading Hanbyul’s mind.

“About Namjoon?”

“Tell Jimin that you have feelings for him, and see what he says,” Sobyul insisted. “It’s the only way you’ll ever know.”

Hanbyul felt that familiar pang of horror at the idea, but slightly dulled this time. Rather than making her want to hide under the bed, this time it made her grit her teeth. Yeah, she would know then, wouldn’t she. There would be no more mystery. No more hope. No more guilt. And if he didn’t, she was free to date any of his friends, right? He might feel weird about it for her to move onto his friend, but whatever, it wouldn’t be his business anyway, right? If he was a gentleman, he wouldn’t mention her confession to his friends. He would admit it maybe someday in the far distant future. As they confessed all their remaining secrets the night before their wedding or something.

Unless he thought she was being creepy and only dating them to be close to him…

“Why does something like this have to happen to me?” Hanbyul sighed. “Why can’t it just be easy?”

“Should have fallen in love with someone else.”

“I didn’t say I was in love,” Hanbyul stammered out as her sister just laughed and then groaned and shifted the conversation into a rundown of her pregnancy symptoms. As if she wanted to dangle in Hanbyul’s face this path she might never have. Namjoon’s profile had said directly that he wasn’t interested in having children. Hanbyul loved children, but was not so set on it that it would be a dealbreaker not to, so it hadn’t stopped her from answering his message.

Although maybe that was only because she had Sun-young in her life. While she was in no way a mother to Sun-young, the girl was so precious to her, maybe it fulfilled some of that for her. It also made her realize how incapable she would be as a mother. How did anyone figure out how to raise a child?! If she didn’t ever have children, she wouldn’t need to. But maybe she did want them, and someday when Jimin met someone and Sun-young didn’t need Hanbyul so much, maybe then she would regret if she had chosen a relationship that wouldn’t provide the opportunity. It all felt so unknown. She knew she adored Sun-young, but a child of her own in a life she couldn’t imagine just seemed… fake and unimportant.

She ended the call with Sobyul not long after and flopped her arms and legs further askew on the sofa to really wallow. Did she really want children or was she just trying to find ways in which Namjoon wasn’t right for her so as not to confront the possibility that Namjoon was great and her only real reason not to continue dating him was due to her unreciprocated feelings for Jimin?

Hudu lifted his paws to the side of the couch and slapped at her arm, whining.

“I already fed you,” Hanbyul sighed. He did it again, not the bells that meant he needed to go outside, he just wanted attention or food or treats. “Go get your toy. I’ll tug. Go on.” He whined again and she began to think he could actually understand her conversation with Sobyul or read her mind and was trying to drag her out of her own wallowing.

A knock at the door made her think instead that he had predictive powers. Hanbyul sighed and pushed up from the couch. She needed to go grocery shopping anyway and if it was someone she didn’t want to deal with, she could use that as an honest excuse. She wasn’t great at lying otherwise, which made her whole situation that much more dire!

Sun-young waited on the other side of the door, her little face eagerly upturned as she begged, “Can I stay with you today?”

“What’s going on? Sure, but I do need to go grocery shopping. Want to come along?”

“Ok, can you ask Appa? He doesn’t know I snuck over here.”

“Sun-young, you’re going to get me in trouble,” Hanbyul teased, but let Hudu slip around her so they all walked together back to the Park apartment. Jimin seemed to have just realized Sun-young was gone. His panic shifted to relief and then apparent frustration in the span of a second at the sight of Hanbyul and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Sunnie, you can’t keep inviting yourself over to Hanbyul’s place. She has a life of her own.”

“It’s ok. I don’t mind if she tags along today, I’m just grocery shopping.”

“My friend Jungkook was supposed to take her all day but he had something come up this morning, so she’s going to hang out at the studio with me until he can get her.” Jimin turned away and Hanbyul could see the stress squeezing his shoulders as he gathered things into his bag. Hanbyul wondered if Jungkook’s delay came from partying a little too hard at the concert he went to last night; he had mentioned the show to her in one of their casual chats but he hadn’t invited her and if she was supposed to invite herself, she had missed the memo. It wasn’t very admirable if he’d been supposed to take Sun-young and had to bail because he was hungover.

“Ok…” Hanbyul said slowly, because she didn’t want to undermine Jimin’s plan but she also really didn’t mind. She tried to convey this with her expression, but he just tilted his head and looked concerned. “Um…” She glanced at Sun-young, then went close to Jimin and whispered, “I don’t want to interfere, but I really don’t mind having her with me. Jungkook could pick her up from my place later.” When she glanced over her shoulder, Sun-young was a painting of someone pretending not to know what was going on, meaning Hanbyul’s whisper had not been quiet enough.

Only as Jimin responded did she realize she had remained uncomfortably close to him and shifted quickly away. It might have looked like a small jump.

“I don’t want to keep taking advantage of your generosity. You don’t have to keep babysitting my daughter. Or at least let me pay you.”

“I’m not a babysitter and I don’t want to be paid,” Hanbyul argued. “I’ll put her to work. She can earn her keep by helping me with my groceries.”

Sun-young nodded eagerly and agreed, “I don’t mind helping!”

Jimin caved with a sigh, “All right, fine. But this is the last time, and I’ll buy you dinner in exchange. Is it ok for me to give Jungkook your number so he can meet up with you later?”

“Yes, sure, of course,” Hanbyul nodded because for a moment his offer to buy her dinner had trailed across her field of vision in a bolder, italicized font.

Except he didn’t mean for a date.

And just as quickly, she realized that Jimin giving her number to Jungkook might prompt his friend to off-handedly mention they’d been talking on a dating app, and she didn’t want to look like she’d been hiding it, so awkwardly she blurted out, “I’ve met him. I mean, we talk sometimes.”

Jimin froze, obviously confused.

“I thought you didn’t know him?”

“Since I said that. I mean, I don’t know him well, we’ve just talked a few times. A week. I mean, sometimes we talk about… things.” Good, Hanbyul, really normal. Sobyul would be shaking her by the shoulders if she could see this.

“Oh. You mean here in the building? Or… you already have his number?”

“I don’t have his number,” she clarified, but didn’t stop herself in time. “We just message on a dating app we’re both on.”

“Oh.”

“It’s just casual. Casual conversation, I mean. But we haven’t traded numbers…”

“Um… ok… you know what, maybe I’ll just come back to check on Sunnie and I can hand her over myself, I should be able to take a break around that time.”

“That seems like a lot of trouble. It’s not a problem for him to get her from my place.”

“Ok, yeah,” Jimin nodded, equally as amenable to this, like they were both trying to politely open the door for the other one and no one would walk through the door. “I’ll tell him. And I’ll tell you when I know what time, maybe like two? Or maybe I’ll be able to swing back. I’ll let you know either way. Or maybe he’ll message you directly, I don’t know.”

“Ok, but it’s really fine either way.”

Sun-young suddenly took Hanbyul’s arm and said pointedly, “Bye, Appa. See you tonight.” Hanbyul let herself be pulled from the apartment, but made it to her door before realizing Hudu hadn’t followed them. Jimin came not far behind, bags over his shoulder and Hudu in his arms.

“I wish I could take him to my dance clinic today,” Jimin laughed. He already seemed more relaxed. He accepted several kisses from Hudu, handed him over, and waved at Sun-young, who gave her appa a big hug since she’d won.

Hanbyul still didn’t understand whether Jungkook was going to call her or just show up or if Jimin was going to insist on coming for some reason. It seemed clear he was surprised to learn she and Jungkook had been talking on a dating app and the fears Hanbyul had that Jimin would feel betrayed or upset about it grew larger. But he didn’t have a right to be against it, so he must just have been surprised? It wasn’t like she was dating Jungkook! But she had gone on four dates and slept with Namjoon… The coffee with Taehyung hadn’t been a date though… right?!

As soon as her door closed, Sun-young slid her backpack off and said with all the gravitas of a child of Park Jimin, “It’s time, unnie. I need your help.”

Jimin teetered sideways in his chair, laughing so hard his chest ached. The guilty party –Taehyung– sipped his water and tried to play it cool as the rest of the table crumbled around them. Yoongi covered his face, Young-geul rubbing his back and wiping her eyes. Jungkook showed off the roof of his mouth, head thrown back. Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head and tried to play it cool while Seokjin slapped both their knees. Hoseok curled up, bright smile swallowing his face.

And Sun-young sat on her knees in her chair and demanded, “What is it? What’s so funny? Tell me!”

“No no no.”

“Ah, when you’re older…”

“It’s just a joke about babies,” Jimin assured her. “You’ll get it after the baby is born.”

Sun-young pouted, playfully annoyed at being left out, but not for long. She leaned against Young-geul’s arm and asked her if she could feel the baby kick yet, even though that was months away. Yoongi and Young-geul’s announcement had brought everyone together at the noodle house tonight, closed early for the ad hoc celebration. Even if she didn’t understand most of the jokes, Sun-young was happiest of all, the sweet sunshine princess basking in the attention from her uncles and aunt while also openly thrilled about “not being the only kid soon.”

“Maybe more of you should have babies,” she said, crossing her arms and quirking her eyebrow in a way that felt too grown up as she looked around the table. It set them all off again.

“Jiminie, your daughter is bullying me,” Jungkook laughed. “Just because I’m not married!”

“You aren’t married because you date too much!” Sun-young said. It didn’t actually make sense, and probably she didn’t really understand what she was saying anyways, but it succeeded in getting the laughs she’d been angling for. Jimin couldn’t believe he’d made such a funny kid. She was really in rare form tonight. He didn’t think she’d been in this good a mood in… well, he couldn’t remember since when, except for the concert.

“When did your daughter turn into an ajumma?!” Seokjin laughed. “No, don’t look at me, you hellion! Don’t come for me next! I have a serious girlfriend, she’s just working right now!”

“I haven’t met her yet so is she real?” Sun-young demanded. Seokjin crumpled into laughter, insisting she was real, he promised.

Her eyes slid over Namjoon next and he defended, “Me too! I’m sort of seeing someone! But I’m not going to have kids, Sunnie-girl, I’m just happy to be an uncle. Who could ever compare to you?”

Sun-young was pleased by this and stopped bullying her uncles, which of course Jimin would never have interfered with. At moments like these, he felt less terrible about his choices as a father, because whatever mistakes he might make, Sun-young actually was surrounded by love. The loss of her mother was grievous and maybe he was cruel to not let his parents have more of a hand in raising her, maybe having a bunch of his player, unmarried friends around all the time as her uncles wasn’t the traditional way you raised a daughter, but she was so immensely loved, and she knew it.

“So this someone you’re seeing…” Taehyung prodded Namjoon and wiggled his eyebrows. Jimin was curious too; none of them had heard of Namjoon dating someone.

Immediately he clammed up and waved them off, “It’s early, it’s not serious or anything yet. She’s nice but, you know, I’m not in a rush to get anywhere and she works a lot too so it’s just– oh, actually, she lives in your building, Jimin.”

“Really? What floor?” Jimin asked, mostly to be polite, because it was a pretty large building. But actually he did know a lot of the residents, at least in passing, because he tried to always be polite and friendly to the people who lived around him, so maybe he did know her.

He didn’t get his answer though, because Jungkook had so urgently needed to show Taehyung something on his phone that he knocked a drink over, the Cola forming a river across the table around the boulders of their bowls and plates.

“Wha, what are you doing that for?”

“Hey, are you a kid?”

“Hey, I’m a kid and I didn’t spill anything!” Sun-young defended. “How embarrassing, Uncle!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” Jungkook laughed, not looking very sorry about it as Taehyung read something on his phone. Jimin desperately wanted to know what it was; clearly something not ok for Sunnie’s ears because Taehyung laughed and passed it to Hoseok, who passed it to Jimin, and slowly it made the rounds.

[dan]: hey had a great time at the concert last week but I left something at taehyung’s but I don’t have his number

Hoseok seemed to know what it was because he was laughing but Jimin’s mouthed question “what did she leave??” just had Jungkook and Taehyung both gesturing that they’d tell him later. Something naughty. Jimin laughed but felt a twinge of envy. Sexcapades. Oh, to have them. Not that he wanted to actually re-enter the dating world and meet people and do that whole thing. But the two of them, Namjoon, Hoseok, they all did what they wanted, when they wanted to. Were they young for their 30s or was he so old?

He wasn’t being totally fair. He knew they’d each gone through their own heartaches and crushed dreams. He’d heard the drunk confessions when he and Subin were so happy, how they envied him his wife and child and stable home. Taehyung had been engaged and she had not given back the ring he’d spent a year’s savings on. Hoseok’s divorce had been rough and not even a little amicable. Jungkook seemed to have permanently given up on serious relationships after discovering his long-time girlfriend’s long-time infidelity. Namjoon seemed to waver on whether he wanted anything serious or liked independence more, but ten years ago he’d been so serious with a guy that Jimin and Subin had taken bets on whether they’d come back from their Seychelles vacation married. Instead they’d come back separated and Namjoon never had given the details of what happened, at least not to Jimin.

Selfishly, Jimin was thrilled Yoongi and Young-geul were having a baby. For so long, he’d been alone as the parent of the group. He looked forward to giving smug advice and compassionate support as they navigated those brutal first years together. He hoped he could enjoy it through them and not feel renewed grief at the partner no longer with him, at the ache of those hazy memories of a time when they’d been young and exhausted and happy beyond belief.

Now said cause of that exhaustion rocked in her chair and giggled at Taehyung spelling something out, pretending she wouldn’t be able to understand it.

“I can spell,” she cried. “I’m very smart!”

“Oh yeah? What am I spelling? F-O-W-V-N-E-T-R–”

“That’s not even a word.”

Jimin grinned at the close way Yoongi and Young-geul watched Sun-young, obviously now envisioning their own futures more clearly. He was happy for them.

But it was also getting on closer to bedtime, and so as much as he loathed to break up the family dinner, he needed to get Sun-young home so she’d have time to do her homework and get some solid sleep before another week. Who knew what new battles would arise? Jimin was already tired. He’d eaten too many noodles. Happiness let him set down his burdens for a moment and it was hard to pull them back up. He didn’t want to.

Sun-young remained the source of all energy as she hugged everyone goodbye, and skipped along beside Jimin for the first few minutes of the walk home. But her energy seemed to drain the closer they got to home, and Jimin could practically feel the storm brewing. He didn’t know if it was better to ask her if something was up or just wait for her to speak first. He hoped she was dreading homework now, or maybe just sad the fun dinner had ended.

“A new baby in the family is going to be fun, huh?” he asked as they entered the building.

“Do you want more babies?”

“Uh…”

“I mean did you want more than just me.”

“I never thought more about it,” Jimin mentioned. “You were so perfect, I hadn’t thought about a second child yet.”

“Did Eomma want more?”

Jimin felt the question like a jab in his chest but answered evenly, “Maybe. We hadn’t decided.” The answer was too cruel to confess right now: yes, Subin had wanted another, and they had only just begun to talk about it when…

Jimin figured those thoughts were the source of Sun-young’s tamer movements as they arrived home and slid into their evening activities. Jimin had the boring part of his dance studio to address: checking and confirming schedules for the next month, looking through any flags from the accountant since he farmed that work out now, familiarizing himself with the overall breakdown of last quarters’ finances. He had tomorrow morning to get it done but it would be nice to get ahead, especially since Sun-young would be working on her own homework anyway.

They set up their work stations at the kitchen table, which Jimin thought was sweet because lately Sun-young took her homework to the desk in her room and only emerged if she needed help with something. Begrudgingly.

He hadn’t even opened the calendar software on his laptop before Sun-young stood from her chair, spun her school laptop to face him, and cleared her throat.

“You need help?” he asked. Maybe he wasn’t going to get any of his own work done tonight after all. The way they taught math now had changed and nothing made him feel stupider than having to figure out this new math way and teach her to get the same answer he could have gotten without a thought using his own method.

Sun-young pointed to the laptop, where the bright purple screen had white text that read: Science & Your Daughter, Why You Should Allow the Pursuit.

Jimin stayed very still except for his gaze sliding to Sun-young. She swallowed, clearly nervous, and pressed a button on a small black clicker in her hand. The slide advanced.

“10 Facts about Women in STEM,” Sun-young read out loud, her voice wavering nervously. “One: STEM stands for Science Technology Engineering and Mathematics.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Two: About 30% of scientists in the whole world are women and most of them are in life sciences. The higher you go in achievement, the fewer women there are. This is because science fields and the patriarchy make it hard for women to feel welcome or like they can advance in a career like this. Do you want to be like that?”

Jimin bit back his bemused grin and asked, “Do you know what the patriarchy is?”

“It’s a system of oppression where men are the standard and women are inferior and mainly good for having babies and taking care of the house.”

Jimin’s eyebrows raised and his lips pursed, because he had not taught his daughter that, and now felt a deep guilt that he probably should be talking to his daughter about patriarchy.

“Who gave you that definition?”

“Please save your questions for the end,” Sun-young said and this time Jimin had to press his hand to his mouth to keep from laughing. But it wasn’t at her. The desire to laugh came from a deep churning mixture of pride and awe.

“Three: A study in the United States in the 90s showed that around middle school girls start to think boys are more intelligent than they are. The study thinks this is because boys show better uh… spatial… um, the ability to like, look at and learn about objects. This is because little boys are encouraged to build and climb and break things, while little girls are encouraged to play with dolls or play house. And to dance.”

She waited. That was clearly supposed to be a big beat. Jimin nodded to show he was listening.

The rest of the ten facts were not necessarily anything he didn’t know, about the numbers of women in Korea dropping out of STEM programs, the fact that programs were underfunded especially at co-ed schools, and a slide listing famous female scientists and their achievements. Marie Skłodowska-Curie, Chien-Shiung Wu, Ada Lovelace, Katherine Johnson internationally. Cho Yoon-kyoung, J. Sook Chung, Kwang Hwa-Chung, and more, domestically. Jimin was embarrassed to admit he didn’t know any of the names except Marie Curie. When he asked why her name was different, Sun-young excitedly told her that it was better to use her whole name “because of something about Poland and where she came from or something… I don’t know, it’s history, we’re here to talk about science, Appa.”

“How long is this presentation?” he asked when she clicked to the next slide: Science In My Life.

“Shhh,” she shushed him, and then walked him through a few slides with more pictures than text. Pictures of children in a science classroom, or at a science fair. “The science club meets twice a week after the final bell to learn more about different types of science and to do experiments. There’s also a science fair in the autumn where we can do projects to compete for prizes. We don’t have much money to buy the materials for our science experiments and there’s also a science summer camp that we want to do but not everyone can afford it and we don’t want anyone to miss out so we need to raise money for that. I had a lot of ideas and there’s a meeting with parents this week to decide which one to do.”

Jimin opened his mouth because he thought that was the point Sun-young wanted to discuss, but she continued to the next slide, a picture of her and her friend Boyeon posing in the classroom with their arms around each other and a bunch of rocks on the table in front of them.

“I want to be in the science class because I like science. It’s all about asking questions and finding out the answers. Sometimes nobody in the whole world even knows the answers yet, or sometimes we thought we knew the answers but then someone else discovers a new thing and it changes everything,” she explained and Jimin watched with amazement at the passion that poured from his daughter’s mouth. “I like how science teaches you how to find out the things you don’t know. It makes it less scary not to know things.”

“What about the things that no one knows? Like… are there aliens?” Jimin asked. He immediately regretted the teasing, but it was because his mind was overwhelmed right now.

“Well maybe I’ll be the one to figure it out!” Sun-young fired back and Jimin couldn’t stop the automatic nod. Yes. His daughter could be capable of something like that, he could see it now.

“What kind of science do you like?” he asked, even though she’d told him to hold questions until the end.

“I don’t know. I like rocks,” she admitted. “But I like the reactions too.”

“Chemistry?”

“Yeah, seeing how when you combine things they make something else or do something else. The volcano was really cool. But space is cool too. And so are animals and dinosaurs. That’s called um… paleontology. I don’t know what kind of science I like the best but that’s why it’s a good idea to let me do science club now because I can explore a lot of things and then I’ll know what I want to do as I get older.”

Jimin nodded with this, almost feeling like he was having an actual adult conversation with his daughter, and pointed out, “But that’s exactly my concern. You’re young to already make major life decisions. You’ve worked so hard at dance. If you quit now, you’ll be behind if you change your mind.”

Sun-young clicked to the next slide: What about dance? Jimin laughed, he couldn’t help it, and Sun-young gave him a more confident smile.

“As you can see on this slide, Science Club meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays. That would mean I can’t make it to my ballet class and my hiphop class.”

“You wanted to take that hiphop class.”

“But Uncle Hobi teaches the same hiphop class on Wednesdays.”

“Which is when you have your progressing ballet technique class.”

“I don’t want to do ballet,” she said, pointing to the bullet that said this on the slide. “It’s my least favorite dance and it takes the most time. Auntie Young-geul is a great teacher and that’s why I’ve enjoyed my ballet classes at all but I know it’s not the style for me. I don’t want to be good at ballet. I do like hiphop, and my jazz class is ok too.”

Jimin listened to this. It wasn’t a surprise to him though. He was the one who had pushed Sun-young to take the advanced ballet class, and she’d done it because she liked to be good at things, and she liked to make him proud, but he’d known for a long time her heart wasn’t really in it. Ballet would be the hardest one to catch up in if she changed her mind, and there would come a point where she wouldn’t be able to, she would miss the physical changes that ballet wrought in dancers before puberty. Her turnouts would never be quite as good, her flexibility would be slightly behind, no matter how hard she worked. That had been exactly Subin’s regret about ballet. She had started too late to ever be great, as much as she loved it, as beautiful as Jimin knew she’d danced it.

At the same time, ballet required so much. Those same physical changes that made dancers beautiful to watch left them with aches and pains behind the scenes. It required such massive physical commitment to succeed, and here was Sun-young saying not for the first time that it was not what she wanted for her life or her body.

Jimin felt his eyes prickle with tears. Sun-young was still so young, but wasn’t she old enough to make some decisions like that for herself? She sounded so mature right now. So certain. Jimin wanted what was best for her, but how could he tell her she had to do this, and in ten years, twenty, she’d still be unhappy and in pain, all because he wouldn’t listen to her when she was nine?

“Hoseok teaches the same hiphop class on Wednesdays and Thursdays,” Jimin pointed out. “If you dropped the PBT class, you could do hiphop Wednesday instead.”

Sun-young’s mouth dropped open and her eyes lit up. It was impossible to miss.

“Isn’t that what you were proposing with this powerpoint?”

Sun-young clicked to the last slide, which read Time for discussion and collaboration.

“Unnie said the best results are when we work together,” Sun-young explained, and slid into her chair like he was relieved to be through the presentation. “Do you think he’d let me switch to the other class?”

“I do… Are you asking to quit all dance or just ballet?” Jimin asked, slow and careful in an effort to really hear her this time.

“I want to do science most of all. That’s Tuesdays and Thursdays and sometimes the weekend. But if I have a science thing on Saturday then you don’t have to worry about me at all while you’re working. And the summer camp. But you don’t have to pay for camp, that’s why we’ll do the fundraiser too!”

“And dance…?”

“I like dance and I like that I tried a lot of different kinds. I like hiphop the most, and jazz is fun. I don’t really care about tap or ballet. But it’s like a science experiment where I got to try a bunch and work really hard at them and learn what I like,” Sun-young said. “I know you’re worried I’ll regret quitting. If I keep doing a little dance, then it’s less change all at once.”

It was such a smart observation from his daughter and Jimin felt himself floating again with pride. He couldn’t say she wasn’t thinking about this, she clearly was thinking about it a lot. He was amazed, actually, by just how maturely she was thinking about these things.

“So if you did Science Club on Tuesdays and Thursdays… we’ll have to figure out a way for you to get to the dance school afterwards because I’ll be teaching my classes so I can’t pick you up after your Club. Then you do the hiphop club on Wednesday. And still jazz/tap on Friday?”

Sun-young had the air of an adult as she said, “We can try it and if it’s too much, I don’t mind dropping jazz/tap.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And I’ll still go to the studio with you all the time,” Sun-young continued. “I can do my homework there like I already do when you’re working and help clean up after your classes.”

Jimin leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. He hadn’t fully realized that part of his fear until she basically said it. It wasn’t just that science was a step away from what he knew, it was that she’d be spending less time at the dance studio too. She wouldn’t have as many or maybe any numbers in recitals. The dance studio had been the center of their family for so long, and the idea Sun-young’s world would no longer center around it –and him– was terrifying.

She might change her mind in a year or two. She might regret this. She might be angry he let her walk away.

“It sounds like you have thought about this a lot,” Jimin said.

“I did! I know it’s not a small thing to stop doing something I’ve worked so hard at. But I want to do science and I don’t want to do dance as my whole life like you do.”

“Like your eomma did too.”

Sun-young’s gaze fell to the tabletop as she answered, “I know.” Jimin felt bad to have made the comment, it was just what came into his mind. This was a connection with Subin too. That made it even harder to let Sun-young loosen it.

“You talk about rocks the same way she talked about dance,” he said to soften his accidental jab. “Your face lights up the same way, you look just like her.”

“Really?”

He nodded, “Yeah. She didn’t know anything about science or math, even less than me. She always knew she wanted to dance, even younger than I did. The only studio near her when she was a little girl was ballroom and she begged her parents to let her do it. She was really good. In middle school they let her start taking the bus to a dance studio the next village over that had ballet and jazz.”

“Do you think she’d be upset if I quit dance?” Sun-young asked, her voice so quiet and uncertain. The fire of a moment ago faded.

“No,” Jimin admitted, because he felt like it was true. Maybe the real Subin would have been, maybe she’d have had the same reaction and dilemma Jimin had. Maybe she would have a hard time letting her daughter quit the thing she herself had fought so hard for. But the Subin who, in his mind, had lived and grown with them in the years since Real Subin’s death, was full of nothing but love and support for their daughter, and she would be proud of anything Sun-young did. “I think she would be proud of you for seeing something that you want and being so insistent about it, even when I told you no. I’m proud of you for doing that.”

“Really?”

“It wasn’t right of you to sneak around or lie to me and… I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to. I can understand that science is something you really want to pursue and when you win the Nobel Peace Prize, I want you to thank me, not say that I was someone who stood in your way with the patriarchy.”

Sun-young’s smile grew. She leaned closer to him, her little hands resting on his arm.

“I worry that if I let you quit dance, you’ll regret it, and resent me later for not pushing. But I think you’ll resent me if I don’t let you pursue your interest in science too. So the choice is yours, Sunnie. If you want to quit ballet, or tap, or hiphop, or all of it. And I’ll still love you and be your appa forever, even if we don’t have dance in common–”

“Appa!” Sun-young shrieked and threw herself at him, arms around his neck, her little body fully in his lap. He realized she hadn’t done that in a long time; he couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat in his lap, but he was glad now that it hadn’t been the last time. That he hadn’t missed it. He was grateful she’d chosen that moment to hug him, so she wouldn’t see the tears that finally spilled over, overcome by the gravity of this moment in their life, in her life and whatever the future of it held, in their relationship that would hopefully forever be a big part of it.

This was going to be a big change. Change was inevitable. Maybe not all change had to be bad.

Jimin fidgeted in his seat. In a sea of business suits and trendy peacoats, his youthful ripped jeans and fuzzy-collared coat stood out, his blond hair as strange as a foreigner’s. He’d seen several askance looks in his direction from other parents. Often before that had made him feel some kind of way, to know they so quickly dismissed him. He’d had comments before, plenty, about his hair, his profession, his single father status –as if that was something he chose. Despite the front he put on about it for Sun-young so she wouldn’t grow up worried what others thought, it often did impact him beneath the surface. Sometimes it was hard to ignore the fear that they could see deeper, that maybe the distance of her classmates parents wasn’t based on appearances but because they could see his fears to be true: that he wasn’t a good father, that he didn’t know what he was doing, that he didn’t belong here with the other parents.

Today, though, he was unbothered. Sincerely. He did belong here, because Sun-young belonged here. He watched in awe as she took her turn explaining her fundraiser idea.

“I think we should do a bake sale and a science demonstration,” Sun-young explained, standing at the front of the classroom in front of all the other kids and parents in attendance. So many of the other children had mumbled, or whispered their ideas for their parents to share, or said nothing at all, but when Miss Kwan called on Sun-young she had marched right to the front of the classroom with all the confidence she had displayed on the stage at dance.

“What do you mean by demonstration?” Miss Kwan asked.

“I mean… not every kid can join the science club or maybe they don’t even know what the science club does. We could present the kinds of things we already do in Science Club or in science class but do it next to the table we’re selling things at. We can take turns leading experiments and invite people to join from the audience sometimes. That way people can eat their cookies or rice cakes while learning about the science stuff we think is so cool, and maybe they’ll realize they think it’s cool too. That’s what I think. We could even present some of the work we did in class so we don’t have to do brand new projects so it’s not too much work. That’s my idea.”

She bowed her head, then walked casually back to her seat, grinning ear to ear even before Jimin leaned down to whisper, “Your idea is amazing.”

“I know.”

Several other students and parents put forth ideas too, many of which Jimin thought were far beyond the means of a science club with only twelve members ranging from seven to ten years old. He wasn’t surprised at all when Sun-young’s idea floated to the top. She perched on the edge of her seat as students got sidetracked from the other ideas to instead brainstorm the science experiments they could do as a demonstration to fill a couple of hours for the bake sale.

“We could even sell baked things at school on a Thursday and tell people to come see the Science Demonstration and more baked goods on Friday,” Sun-young suggested. “Clubs don’t meet on Friday so people will have time.”

Jimin couldn’t say anything. He was too gob-smacked just watching his daughter take on such a forward role in this room. She’d always been a confident little girl, not shy even among adults. He supposed that came from growing up so free around adults, and maybe, he liked to think, from being used to an audience from a young age. But what he hadn’t really witnessed first hand until her powerpoint presentation was just how intelligent and thoughtful she was in an academic setting, too. Sitting beside her at this meeting in which he said nothing except to support her, Jimin felt his decision to let her choose for herself solidify.

Sun-young was only nine, and still learning and growing in many ways. But she was a smart, good girl. She was going places, and it was his job as her father to help her get there, not to direct her where he wanted her to go. She had cited all those daunting statistics about how few women worked in science and the obstacles they faced. Different obstacles than her mother had faced when she’d decided to pursue dance against her parents’ wishes and open her own dance studio, and yet similar. He had married a powerful woman and they had made a powerful daughter and Jimin choked up watching Sunnie in action. She was already so much more than he and Subin could ever have dreamed of.

After the meeting –where Sun-young’s idea was agreed on as the best fundraiser option– Miss Kwan approached Jimin while Sunnie chatted with her science club friends.

“I’m so glad Sun-young is able to join the club,” Miss Kwan told him. “She’s such a bright child and so eager to learn. As a teacher it can be hard to get the class enthusiastic about the things I need to teach them, but she’s always leaning forward and I think it’s motivating for her peers.”

Jimin had already felt emotion rising and had to blink it away quickly as he thanked her, “I’m proud to hear you say things about her like that. She’s incredible, isn’t she? I think she already knows more than I do about science subjects. I’m going to have to work to keep caught up!”

“I’m sure she appreciates your support no matter what form it takes. That’s a mark of a strong foundation at home, she’s really a testament to what a loving supportive family you have,” Miss Kwan told him. “I did want to confirm though, she did just sign you up for baked goods… and given the miscommunication before… is this all right with you?”

Jimin laughed and looked at the clipboard in Miss Kwan’s hand, where Sun-young had written: “Park Sun-young and Park Jimin, Rice cakes, we make the best.”

“She’s right,” he chuckled. “We really do. My parents own a rice cake shop. I never expected my childhood making rice cakes would raise funds for my daughter’s science club…”

Miss Kwan’s smile felt particularly bright as she remarked, “Isn’t that wonderful? We can never predict what comes next except change, but history can help us in ways we didn’t expect.”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting a history club too…”

“No no,” Miss Kwan laughed. “Teaching and science club are enough to fill my time! Not that those are the only things I do –and I do love them dearly. I do other things in my free time besides science… but history is not my strength…”

Jimin leaned in just enough to seem conspiratorial as he confessed, “Mine either. It’s mainly dance for me these days, although I do brush off my math skills when I have to run payroll.”

“Yes, Sunnie mentioned you own your dance studio. That’s… impressive.”

“An impressive amount of work,” he beamed. “Thank you.”

“Miss Kwan? Perhaps we can see the sign-up sheet…?” another parent asked. Miss Kwan apologized to both the mother and to Jimin, and left his side to show them.

The meeting otherwise over, Jimin called for Sun-young to head home. In a show of support, he had asked Hobi to cover his evening class tonight so he could attend the parent meeting. It felt strange to just head home. Almost as strange as it was to realize Sun-young didn’t fuss a bit about having to leave, or walking next to Jimin, or the way he playfully tugged on her braid.

“Your teacher said a lot of good things about you,” he told her.

“I know, I’m a really good student. She said being curious and eager is better than getting top marks.”

“Both are good,” Jimin teased. He caught Miss Kwan’s eye over Sun-young’s head as they left the room and quickly turned away. The eye contact tied him back to their discussion a few minutes before.

Was Miss Kwan flirting with him? He didn’t want to think it, ashamed that his brain thought an attractive, unmarried woman would automatically be flirting. They’d been talking about his daughter, and Miss Kwan was her teacher. But she’d also remarked on things she did outside of school… was that a hint?

Miss Kwan was young and beautiful and intelligent, all wonderful traits. She was pleasant. But he hadn’t meant to flirt back, if that’s what she thought; it hadn’t occurred to him at all to think of her as a potential date. He worried if he’d given the wrong impression. He wasn’t thinking about dating anyone right now. His daughter wanted to be a scientist and was dropping most of her dance classes after the recital. Wasn’t that enough change at once?

It felt like an overwhelming amount of change and yet he was swept up in it. Sun-young continued to talk about Science Club, now onto an experiment they were doing growing crystals with different kinds of minerals, including salt and sugar, to see what formed. It was interesting, but more interesting was listening to the way Sun-young spoke. As an experiment, he took her hand, and she did not pull it away.

Jimin felt those emotions well up again. Had all the acting out just been a symptom of Sun-young’s unhappiness? He hadn’t understood her, and so she’d pulled away, and now that he was listening she could be close again? It had taken him too long to figure it out. That was a great cause of shame to him. He hoped he was doing the right thing now. He was doing his best.

Subin would have figured it out more quickly. Subin would have listened. Miss Kwan had said Sun-young was a testament to a loving home, but was that true? He thought Sun-young was remarkable despite his fumbling. He hadn’t realized how important this was to her even though she’d directly told him.

This thought hung over his head as they wrapped the evening up at home. Sun-young did her homework without complaint and went to bed easily, with a big happy hug before he turned her overhead light off.

Once he was sure she was in for the night, Jimin sat on the sofa and cried. Too many things hit him at once: his own failings with Sun-young; the guarantee that he would fail again in the future as he struggled to navigate her adolescence; the loneliness in that; the injustice that his partner wasn’t here for it; the injustice that Sun-young didn’t have a mother to guide her; the tragedy that Subin didn’t get to see the incredible young woman her daughter was becoming.

What was wrong with him? This had been a happy day. A wonderful evening with his daughter. But suddenly old familiar grief and guilt crashed down on him and he felt like he was drowning. He was too alone. It was his own burden to bear, he couldn’t call someone about it, he wouldn’t know what to say anyway, but he felt like he was drowning in it.

Then someone knocked at the door.

***

Hanbyul wasn’t going to wait long if nobody answered the door; she knew it was late and likely Sun-young was already asleep and possibly Jimin too. They definitely would already have eaten, but she thought if she gave them the dish tonight, they would have it to heat up tomorrow. Besides, she hadn’t seen Sun-young since Saturday and knew the parent meeting had been this evening but didn’t know how the conversation between father and daughter had gone. Hanbyul might owe him a big apology for overstepping…

The door swung open and Hanbyul stiffened in surprise at the pink hue to Jimin’s face. It looked like he had just splashed water, but his eyes were red, so she was pretty sure he’d been crying. He looked like he’d been crying.

“Are you all right?” she asked, stepping forward with unbearable concern.

Jimin cleared his throat and nodded, “Yeah, yes. Just washing my face for the night.”

“Oh. Well, I won’t interrupt long, but I made extra and thought you could enjoy it tomorrow. I put instructions for how to heat it up on the post-it.”

“Ah, you didn’t have to do this,” he said but took the dish from her. “You’re too good to us.”

She grimaced and admitted, “I thought it could be something of an apology too, in case i overstepped with Sun-young…”

“Did you?”

Hanbyul froze, realizing that maybe Sun-young hadn’t actually gone through with the powerpoint after all. The hesitation must have clued Jimin in.

“Oh, you mean the powerpoint. Do you want your clicker back?”

“If you have it…” she said with another grimace. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I had suggested before that she speak with you about it when you were both calm –about Science and dance I mean– and she asked if i could help her make a presentation like I do for work.”

Jimin motioned for her to step inside as he carried the dish to the kitchen, asking over his shoulder, “She talked to you about all this? That I was being unreasonable?”

“She didn’t say that. But she knew this was a big… change.” His hands were full, so she reached around him to open the fridge. It was distressingly empty inside. Obviously Sun-young was well fed and well cared for, but Park Jimin did not keep a well stocked refrigerator. “She wanted advice on how to show you’ve thought something through and have a discussion about it.”

“We had a discussion about it,” he nodded. “She had a well researched presentation. And now, she and I are on the hook to make rice cakes for the Science Club’s fundraiser. Which was also her idea. Both of those things. She is full of ideas, that daughter of mine.”

Hanbyul wasn’t surprised to hear that; Sun-young had told her the idea as well, asking for feedback.

She didn’t bother to hide her endeared smile as she agreed, “She’s a smart girl, Jimin. She’s really amazing.”

Jimin leaned against the counter and nodded, but looked away from her. The sniffle gave it away. He laughed as he wiped a tear from his cheek.

“She really is, isn’t she?”

“Oh. Um…” Hanbyul felt electric with panic. She hadn’t meant to make him cry, but aso guessed that if he had been crying before she came in, it wasn’t her fault. Why had he let her in then?! Now she was here though and didn’t know whether to offer to stay or offer to leave. “Um, is everything all right? Or…?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry, I…” He rubbed his forehead and gave her a helpless look. “It just hits me sometimes.”

“Was it a hard day?” Hanbyul asked, not sure what else to ask. She didn’t know what he meant by it and didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

Jimin sighed, “No. It was a great day. It would make more sense if I fell apart on a bad day, huh? We’d been having a lot of those, as you unfortunately know –but now I hear myself say that, and what the fuck is wrong with me? I want to complain about too many bad days? Subin would kill to have more bad days with us.”

Hanbyul felt her heart drop into her stomach. Maybe she ought to have guessed that by it Jimin meant grief, but he’d never really spoken to her about it before. He’d mentioned Subin, sure, and alluded to grief about losing her. But he’d never said anything so raw and vulnerable as that, nor so tragic.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “It’s not fair. But it’s also ok to recognize a bad day…” She didn’t know what she was saying, and worried it was just going to be offensive. Her heart throbbed to see him so upset and she felt desperate to find the magic words to make it better, but obviously no such words existed. She couldn’t fathom the kind of loss he had endured.

He nodded, and sniffled, like he was really making the effort to hold himself together. Hanbyul wondered what he would do if she let him know it was all right not to. He could cry if he wanted. She could stay or go. He didn’t need to hide himself on her account.

“Today was a good day,” Jimin said. He swallowed, like he could shake off the bad feelings. “Sunnie and I did talk about her presentation. We agreed that she’s going to drop most of her dance classes after her recital and explore her interest in science because it’s what she wants to do. And I can’t deny her that, not when she’s so excited talking about science club, and dance is… is my thing. It was Subin’s thing. Maybe it’ll always be a part of Sunnie or maybe it won’t, but forcing her to dance won’t keep Subin here and I know Sunnie and I can find other things to connect us. I’ll make sure of it. It’s a huge change but I’m making peace with it. I can learn to make volcanoes!”

“I’m glad it went well,” Hanbyul said softly. She wanted to support. She didn’t want to interrupt. She could actually see the tears come back into his eyes, giving them an other-worldly shimmer.

“Sorry,” he laughed, sadly, and swallowed hard again. “I didn’t expect to get hit with it today but watching Sun-young and seeing how well she’s growing and changing… Someone told me that grief is like a ball in a box and there’s a button in the box, and every time the ball hits the button, you feel the grief of loss all over again. In the beginning it’s constant, there’s never a break, but over time the box gets bigger, so the ball bounces around and it doesn’t hit the button as much. But sometimes it still does, just out of nowhere.”

Hanbyul had heard that too. As far as she knew, a woman on Twitter had made the analogy, Lauren Herschel, and that the ball got smaller, not the box bigger, but she wasn’t about to correct him. The idea was the same, and she understood, even if her experiences with grief were for elderly grandparents and a pet rabbit. The grief of those had still felt like they would swallow her.

“But I don’t feel like I’m a ball in a box, I feel like… Sometimes I feel like grief is a swarm of bees inside of me. Sometimes they’re asleep but other times they’re buzzing and banging around and trying to escape, and if I even open my mouth they’ll come pouring out and I’ll just fall down, an empty husk, so I have to keep these bees inside of me even though the buzzing makes me feel like my skin is going to tear apart. But what if the grief is the only thing holding me up?”

Hanbyul’s eyes widened. It was such a tragic and visceral mental image. She didn’t know what to say, but knew her, “Woah,” wasn’t enough.

He continued anyway, “And other times grief feels like a pile of boulders rolling onto my chest, a new one with each breath, each one making it harder to draw the next. The guilt…”

“Jimin…”

He blinked and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“But who am I to complain about grief? Because I get to be here, I get to see Sunnie grow, I get to drink my coffee with milk and run through the rain and sit in a warm window, and see how my favorite dramas end. I get to stub my fucking toe on the bookcase –it’s still purple!-- and get annoyed trying to change my phone plan with a very unhelpful agent and worry about… about the weather and climate change and what planet I’m leaving my daughter to grow up in and whether it was even the right choice to have a daughter into this world and yet I can’t imagine my life without her…” He choked on his sob but the words somehow squeezed past anyway. “It’s selfish of me, isn’t it? I just grieve what I lost. I lost my wife, my first love, my partner. But Subin lost all of this, the good and the bad. And Sunnie lost her mother –and that’s not fair to her. She needs her mom, she needs her mom so much more than she needs me–”

“That’s not true,” Hanbyul said. “It’s awful she lost her mother, but the opposite wouldn’t have been any better and that’s not fair to you or her. She needs you too.”

“I know she does, I know you’re right and she does, but she shouldn’t have only gotten one of us. Every time things are hard I think about how much easier they would have been with Subin still here. I’ve spent three years now trying to accept the fact that she’s never going to be there beside me when I wake up, I’ll never fall asleep next to her again, I’ll never get a text from her asking me to grab more milk or toilet paper. I’ll never argue with her about who lost the remote, or whether a trip to Disney Tokyo is worth the money and how old Sunnie should be if we go. I won’t get to vacation with her, or see Sun-young off to college and wonder what we’ll do with ourselves– I lost my wife and I lost the future I dreamed of with her.”

“I’m so sorry, Jimin.”

“But it’s selfish. Because at the end of the day, I know I can still do those things. I can meet someone new. I’ll never stop loving Subin but she’s gone and I know there are amazing people in the world and maybe I can find that joy and love again but she can’t. Why do I care so much more about my own pain than I do about all the things she’ll never get to do?”

Hanbyul hated to see him eaten up with guilt like this. This was beyond her, but she couldn’t stand for him to berate himself for such understandable feelings.

“It’s not that you care more, you just feel your own loss. She’s not worried about those things now. She’s at peace, and maybe she’s watching you and Sun-young from somewhere else, whichever you believe.” He gave her a look she couldn’t understand, so she added, “Ok, and she’s probably pissed because it sucks. It’s not fair. All of these things can be true at the same time but I don’t think you need to hold onto guilt. You didn’t choose to lose her and if she loves you and Sun-young as much as I think she did, she would want you both to chase joy with open hearts. Even the joy of taking things for granted, or being frustrated or annoyed or happy or sad.”

“I feel like I’m starting to forget her,” Jimin admitted in the smallest, quietest, saddest voice. “The Subin I think of when something is hard –oh, she would think this, she would react that way… I don’t think it’s the real Subin anymore. Sunnie and I are growing and changing but Subin ended then and this idea I carry forward of her… it’s not her. I don’t know how she would have reacted to Sunnie wanting to give up dance. It feels like one more way we forget Subin, when I already feel guilty for thinking about… I mean, that I don’t just keep a constant vigil for her. That I’m living without her. I’m doing it even though it felt impossible three years ago. It’s another step away from the family we used to be and I know that has to happen but… it’s just…”

Hanbyul dared to reach for his hand, and hoped it wasn’t inappropriate. She hoped he didn’t read anything into it, or feel uncomfortable, this was not in any way an attempt to push her own feelings. But right now her friend was grieving and needed support and she didn’t know the words to say but hoped by holding his hand, it could help.

He looked down at their hands and nodded and let out a shallow, shaky breath, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break down like this in front of you. It was a good day.”

“Please, it’s ok! I don’t mind at all. I’m honored that you know you can share your feelings with me. I’m honored to be here for them. I just wish I had a real way to help it not hurt so much.”

“Time,” he scoffed. “That’s all there is.” Then added, “But you do help in a real way.”

“You don’t need to reassure me–”

“No, I mean, you really do. Thank you. Thank you for being someone my daughter can talk to when her appa is struggling to listen. Thank you for helping her with the powerpoint and taking her seriously.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“I do. I can’t be everything for her, no matter how much I love her. Subin can’t be here and most of our close friends are young single guys who don’t know anything about being a girl growing up. But I shouldn’t be crying about my dead wife to you and I can’t just call you every time she has a girl question I don’t know how to answer.”

“Sure you can,” Hanbyul argued. “Why not? I’m just down the hall. She’ll probably come ask me anyway, and I’m glad.”

“It’s not your job–”

“Because it’s not a job. I love Sun-young. I’m here for whatever she needs. And whatever you need, listening or dinner to reheat or a dog to cuddle.”

“What I need…” He trailed off, and shifted his position but didn’t drop her hand. They were still standing in the quiet kitchen. Hanbyul loved kitchens. It felt like a place of safety and warmth to her. She could understand why Jimin would unburden himself in one. “I have a hard time thinking about what I need. How can I think about meeting someone new when I’m like this?”

She hadn’t realized he was thinking or talking about someone new, she had just meant what he needed as a friend, and it made her choke on her words a bit, “Like what?”

“I don’t know when the ball will hit the button. I don’t know when the bees will escape. It feels like it’ll always happen. I don’t think I’ll ever be a whole person to give to someone else,” he said.

“What does that mean, be a whole person? You’re a whole person.”

“It doesn’t feel like it. I’m… fractured. I’m missing pieces here and there.”

“Then you’ll find someone who loves you even with those missing pieces,” Hanbyul insisted. “You’re wonderful, and your grief is just a part of you because your wife will always be a part of you and Sun-young. I really don’t think you’ll have a hard time finding someone who accepts that too, when you’re ready.”

“It’s so complicated to even think about that kind of thing. If I want to open myself up to that, if Sun-young deserves someone in her life, but sometimes I’m still going to have a day of grief… I feel like I have to wait until all my grieving is over, but will that ever happen?”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about,” Hanbyul admitted. “I’m not the right person to give advice but I just think that you and Sun-young deserve to be happy, in whatever way makes you happy, and still recognize how important your wife was in your lives. I’m not saying you have to rush into dating or anything,” she said, proud of herself that she could be the kind of friend she wanted to be for Jimin as they talked about it. Her compassion for him made her invulnerable to any of her own feelings right now, those were tucked away. This wasn’t about her and she didn’t feel the need to make it about her. “I just think the heart can hold a lot of things and people at once, even love and grief. Even how wonderful your life was with your wife, and how wonderful the future with your daughter will be.”

Jimin nodded, still holding her hand, his other scratching his neck and tugging on his ear. She hoped he didn’t notice how clammy her hand was. Maybe she should separate from him and wipe it off before he noticed. Was she awful to be excited to hold his hand right now, even just in a friendly way?

He reached for her other hand and squeezed them both.

“There was a time I couldn’t even imagine having more good days than bad,” he said. “You remember me back then, I think.”

“I do.”

“And now I have more good days than bad, and I don’t spend every day crying or consumed with survivor’s guilt. I thought I knew what the future looked like, and then Subin died. But I didn’t actually know what the future held anymore than I do now. It can’t be known.”

Hanbyul nodded, following and not quite following at the same time.

“I’m lucky to be here. I’m lucky to have such an amazing daughter.” Hanbyul nodded her agreement. “And I’m lucky to have such a good friend too. Thank you.” He squeezed her hands again and then dropped them.

Hanbyul instantly flushed at the simultaneous praise and distancing. Not that she had thought he was alluding to her with his mentions of maybe finding someone, but she saw the vulnerability now as proof that he saw her as a friend and nothing more. And yet she was also flattered to be a friend now, no longer just ‘neighbor Hanbyul’. The heart could hold many feelings at once.

“You don’t have to thank me. You both are easy to love,” she assured him.

“I’m sorry my daughter and I both leaned on you in the same week–”

“Stop that.” She glared and he grinned.

“You deserve the world. Thank you for the food. I’ll bring you rice cakes when we make them.”

Hanbyul agreed that would be wonderful, and didn’t linger a moment longer as she felt Jimin needed privacy now. It was incredible he had shown her so much of his grief. Called her a friend. She was genuinely warmed by it all.

I’m not asking for the world, she thought. She ought to take the advice she had given Jimin: recognize that her feelings for him might always have their place in her heart, but she couldn’t spend her life living for someone who wasn’t able to be that for her. Hadn’t she said exactly that?

But for tonight, she could hug Hudu and feel a little sorry for herself alongside her compassion for Jimin as the ball hit the button in her own box. It was a different box than Jimin’s grief for his wife, but it was Hanbyul’s and she held it close.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

#jimin ff #jimin x oc #park jimin fanfic #dad jimin #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #single dad jimin #after the applause

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manyblinkinglights · 6 months ago

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okay pretty sure my project is perfect and Unity is wrong. I’m going to back up and re-make, then it should pretty much be perfect, then it’s time to update the script by ripping out most of it. …ugh no I think I still have to make sure this works on the constraint puppet winged full anytaur, when all my shit is working again THEN I update the script

Also need to test constraining transforms to themselves to animate them (what the hell?).

Anyway my problem is I made a beautiful minor orrery, a three-body heart for my avatar, and I can SEE it rolling around like it ought to be but it ISN’T REPORTING ITS PARAMETERS.

I have a Sender Sending two tags, Accordion and SpinDamp, and two Receivers (Accordion. And SpinDamp). They all instantiate superimposed because fuck the devs they said they fffixed that (old bug where nothing could spawn in superimposed or its parameter would be frozen broken). I should be allowed to do this!! It’s so beautiful and I insist I am allowed to do this.

#accordion is squash and stretch #spindamp tightens all the damped constraints the further the faster you spin #it should all be working!!!! THREE ANIMATION LAYERS #THREE CONTACT COMPONENTS (plus two contact components)!!!#(the spare two are to detect hind leg crossing and uncross them.)#(the third layer is the associated hind legs handler).#iirc I got the original v14 hindbody approach working too. Everything is just gorgeous #anytaur

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hgejfmw-hgejhsf · 1 year ago

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WIP ask game- Mozart, The Notebook, soulmates AU, and the MCU please!!!!

If that's overwhelming, definitely the Marvel one, all others are optional ♥️🤍💙

THANK YOU FOR COMING AT ME WITH THE MARVEL ONE.

But I shall oblige all of your requests!

Mozart - The brief synopsis lives here, but I'll share the quote I was inspired by:

I have just listened to this symphony which Mozart dashed off in one day and it had enough wild and crazy joy to last forever, whatever forever is Mozart came as close as possible to that.

The Notebook! Go on and have another snippet, why don't ya! Gonna tag @gayrootvegetable who I know is itching for any little bit of this one I'm willing to give.

“What planet do you live on? It’s been the talk of the town for weeks,” June says, eyes rolling at Alex while still focused on Nora. “It’s called Planet IDGAF and it’s one of the moons of Couldn’t Care Less,” Alex quips, proud of himself for the retort. “Clearly you care since you’re asking,” June responds, effectively destroying his argument. “Prince Henry is in Austin for the summer.” “Prince Henry…as in…the one from England?”

Soulmates AU

I wish I could give you more on this one. It's currently a doc with a few sentences about how things ought to go without many words on how it will go. But I'll say the name "Opal" will come into play in a cute way, if that helps the sting of not getting many details!

MCU, ugh my beloved. The MCU fic has only just come into a bit of clarity very recently, thanks to a couple of friends who are happy to scream about Marvel with me. For months, since the summer honestly, the idea on my phone notes was "what if Alex/Henry lived in the MCU when Thanos' snap happened?"

Over the last week or so, it's become an actual, fully formed idea involving WHO gets snapped and WHAT happens after and HOW MUCH I'm preparing to hurt all of you AND myself in the process of telling it. So...buckle up, babes. This is gonna be another longfic that I am resolutely determined to make happen.

Bless you for wanting so many updates, love! Truly!

#wip tag game #wip ask game #my fics #my wips #my writing #suseagull04

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psychopompsglomps · 1 year ago

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people u wanna know more about tag meme from @explosionguts

im. not gonna tag anybody tho sorry i just dunno who the hell i would tag. im flighty. or at least i feel flighty all the time. ehe!

last song: when i got this it was the closing song of Rat Wars but currently im listening to @corviraptor's FREIMESSER, on HOPECHARGER. https://corviraptor.bandcamp.com/album/freimesser

currently watching: uhhh idk. watched the new indy jones movie w my parents tho. decent. idk. i don't think indiana jones should have a cgi budget ever. i think it should have lots of tiny little guys in tiny little models like og star wars background props, and it should have cheap lil pyrotechnics that they make the fullest imaginable use out of. not an awful movie but felt a little empty. a little hollow. cute but. idk. i should replay signalis. that'd make me feel better :3 ugh. Why did We let aconite start this. It just slipped into front. Hm.

three ships: the clemens romanus from corru.observer. psycho zaku. the humble canoe. (We do not have any actual answers for this. None of us, but especially not Us)

first ship: When we were young, we went canoeing with our grandfather a few times.

Favorite color: We are a color coded system. Rust red for Us, lavender (the color of wolfsbane flowers in bloom, but lavenders are a lovely flower as well) for Aconilla (latin diminutive of Aconite, which we decided was the correct nickname for it, underused as it may be), and pastel pink for Ashley. Each of us does also have a secondary color: Moss green, faded brown with hints of orange, and true purple (used in silhoutte).

currently consuming: About to open up a hard cider before We go to sleep.

currently working on: Should finish sewing a hanging strip onto our cloak. Been stalling on that. Should also generally sew more and write more. We are fond of poetry.

relationship status: polyam and sufficiently partnered, though generally open in such matters.

last movie: We suppose we swapped this with currently watching, so We shall try to think of any shows We left unfinished and should come back to.... Does catching up to the latest update of Corru.observer count? It ought.

If any of our mutuals wish to do this, feel free to notify us with a mention.

#tag game

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ghouly-boiiiii · 9 months ago

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My Name Is Cooper

Chapter 3 Of Ferals and Centaurs

(Lucy x Cooper Howard / The Ghoul)

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Tags: angst, fluff, romance, humor, banter, femdom, alcohol and drug use, eventual smut

In this chapter...

“In fact, while we’re on the subject…” The Ghoul said as he shifted his feet a little. “And since we gonna be spendin’ some time together, I figure I ought to tell you this now too...” He took a somber breath. “If it ever so happens that I run outta vials and collapse like that again... and I lose consciousness... you gotta shoot me before I wake up. You got that?”

Lucy blinked, then looked up at him again. “Why?” She furrowed her brow and frowned. Even though she didn’t like him very much, she also didn’t like the idea of having to kill him either. Not unless she absolutely had to, and was sure of it. "...When you wake up… would you be feral?”

He just looked at her and pressed his lips together.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2,400

SPOILER WARNING: Contains all the spoilers

No trigger warnings except eventual sexy time with a zombie man.

Inside the vault, there wasn’t really much of note. Even though there was still power, it was quite dark. Many of the light bulbs had either been broken or gone out over time. The place was ransacked. There were dead bodies strewn about. Some were wearing vault suits, others looked like raiders. Whatever happened here, Lucy didn’t really care. Normally, she would have wanted to know. But after everything that’d happened, her mind was in other places.

Between The Ghoul and Dogmeat, she didn’t have to do much. Dogmeat took care of the roaches, and she was rather shocked by how quickly her ghoul companion swept through each room. Like he knew exactly where to look, exactly what to look for. Although she realized she shouldn’t be surprised, she still found it impressive. And he even gave her some tips and tricks along the way.

“Check that box there.” He pointed out to her a yellow ammo container.

Lucy went over and tried to open it. “It’s locked.”

“Mmm…” He rummaged in his pack a moment, then handed her a bobby pin.

She looked at it questioningly. “Umm… what’s this for?”

“To pick the lock.”

The former vault dweller blinked. “I’ve never picked a lock before.”

“Well… it’s a good time to learn.” He said. “Go on now. Give it a try.”

She blinked again, then took the pin, kneeled down in front of the box, and stuck it in the hole.

After feeling around a moment she said, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’ll figure it out.” The Ghoul said, then leaned against the wall casually and tilted his head as he watched her.

“Ugh… okay…” She said, frustrated but determined. As she kept at it, she had to say something to fill the dead air. Apparently, The Ghoul had gotten tired of talking, because now he was just standing there watching silently.

“So… about your name.”

“Ahh…”

“What if I take a guess?”

“Drop it, Vaulty.”

“Is it… John?”

“No.”

“What about Nick?”

“Even if you guess it, I’m not gonna tell ya.”

“Okay. What if I give you a name?”

“Sweetheart, I ain’t your fuckin’ dog.”

“So I take it you’d be opposed to being called Rover?” She joked.

“Ugh…” The Ghoul rolled his eyes. “You want me to open that?”

“No. I’ll get it… I think I’m… getting the hang of this.” She said, furrowing her brow in concentration.

“Ehhh…” The Ghoul exhaled. “So, Vaulty... How did you take out that Super Duper Mart anyway?”

“Well, uh…” Lucy smiled sheepishly as she twisted and turned the bobby pin. “Actually, it was… kind of an accident.” Then her expression got sullen. “I… I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt…”

“You’re the one that got ‘em to release all them ghouls, huh?”

She glanced over at him and he started to laugh.

“Well, ain’t you a good samaritan.”

“They were being held captive! I couldn’t just leave them there…” She huffed and looked over at him. “I mean, I got you those vials, didn’t I? Are you gonna make fun of me for that too?”

“Well… I just hope you learned something from that experience.” He said, tilting his head down and raising his eyebrows. “You don't mess around with feral ghouls.”

“Yeah…” She said as she put her arms down a moment to give them a break. “I got that...”

He just looked at her and pressed his lips together.

“But the other ones, they… they didn’t lose consciousness. They were… very awake when they…”

“Well, everyone’s different, sweetheart…” The Ghoul said. “Not everyone turns in the same way. And truth be told, I’ve never gotten that far. To where I lost consciousness, I mean. So I donno what would happen when I woke up. But that’s not a risk you wanna take, darlin’.” His tone was very serious and strangely soft. He was starting to sound like a mentor. Like the tone she would take with her students back home. “So if that happens, you either better shoot me or run as fuckin’ far away as you can, as fast as you can. Because if I do go feral, I will kill you.”

Lucy blinked again, looked away in thought, then back. “Well… isn’t that a good reason for me to know your name...? Those other ghouls, they were… saying their names over and over again. Don’t you think it’d be good for me to know it? In case you do start going feral? So I can help, you know… remind you…”

He shook his head and scoffed. “That don’t help nobody… It’s all just sentimental bullshit... Nice try though.”

Lucy thought for a moment about her mother. She swallowed hard, then went back to the lock. “So… is it... Nate?”

“Sweetheart, if you don’t stop askin' me I swear I’m gonna…”

Suddenly, there was a click and the box popped open. “Ha!” She exclaimed in triumph.

“Huh…” The Ghoul said, almost sounding surprised, before he strolled over to her.

Lucy opened up the lid and looked inside, where there were several boxes of ammo, a couple stimpacks, and some rad-away.

The bounty hunter leaned over her as she pulled out their prizes. “Well… nice job, Vaulty.”

After some time, The Ghoul decided they'd done enough scavenging. The vault was huge - as all vaults were - and they didn’t end up getting through the whole thing. But he seemed happy with what they found. Which, aside from what was in the locked box, included food, cigarettes, a bottle of whiskey, and a few other medicinals. As they headed back to the entrance, Lucy eyed something they’d passed before. It was a Mr. Handy. Broken, but it still had its fusion core. Which meant there’s a chance it could still be operational.

“Hey, Asshole.” Lucy called out ahead to him.

The Ghoul looked over his shoulder, then flashed her a smirk before he turned and started walking towards her. “You say my name?”

She smirked back. “Sure did… Come look at this.”

The old bounty hunter immediately frowned when he realized what she was pointing at. “The robot?”

“Do you think we could use it?”

“What the hell for?”

“Well, I donno. Might come in handy .” She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh, then looked up at The Ghoul to see if he got the joke.

Slowly, he turned to look at her with nothing but a blank stare.

“Ha…” Lucy let out a brief laugh, then bit her lip and looked away awkwardly.

The old bounty hunter kept his eyes on her a moment, then blinked and slowly shifted them back over to the robot, shaking his head a little. “Well, I hate to tell you this, Ms. Handy MacLean. But Bartholomew here appears to be kinda fuckin’ broken.”

“That is true. But. I’m pretty sure I can fix him.”

“Well, if you want a little robot friend, you go right on ahead. I ain’t gonna stop ya.” He turned and started back down the hallway again.

She shrugged and was about to follow when Dogmeat started to growl at something in the darkness behind them. An unsettling sound emitted from down the hallway. A low, gurgling, but almost human sounding groan. And it sounded like it was coming from something that was much… much bigger.

Lucy froze in fear, then watched as The Ghoul turned around and his eyes got wide.

“Lucy! Get down!” He shouted and she dove for the floor as something lashed out above her, just missing her. Dogmeat barked frantically as The Ghoul pulled out his gun and started firing. She heard the gush of spilling blood and torn flesh and the creature screamed out in pain.

In a panic, Lucy started crawling towards the Ghoul. After getting a few feet away, she flipped onto her back, grabbed her gun and started firing as well. After getting in a few shots, her eyes got wide with horror as she absorbed what she was looking at.

It looked like a giant humanoid mutant. But instead of having arms attached to its shoulders, it crawled on six below the waist, attached to a lower body that looked like the thorax of an insect, but made of human flesh. There were bones stick out from its shoulders where the arms should be, and around its stomach. It was grotesque, covered in tumors and pustules. And it had three long tentacles protruding from its mouth. Just the look of it made every hair on her body stand up on end.

Lucy began to scream as she continued to fire. Then, suddenly, one of the tentacles lashed out, wrapped itself around her angle and started dragging her across the floor.

“Shit!” The Ghoul exclaimed and ran towards her, dropping his pack on the ground. Dogmeat barked and gnawed at one of the monster's six arm-legs, but it didn’t seem to phase it.

The former vault dweller kept firing until she ran out of bullets, and so did The Ghoul. But the thing was so huge it was almost just absorbing their fire. The bounty hunter grabbed his knife and jumped between Lucy and the beast, sawing and hacking at the tentacle that had a hold of her. Once he had her freed, the creature screamed out in pain, then threw its other two tentacles around The Ghoul’s face, knocking off his hat and pulling him in.

“Arrgh–!!! Mmmph!” His shout was muffled as he struggled against the mutant.

“Asshole!!” Lucy called out the only name she had for him.

The horrifying monster was strong and pulled the bounty hunter towards it with ease, engulfing his head in its slimy, wiggling grip. Dogmeat barked and growled fiercely, tearing and gnashing at the beast flesh. Lucy fumbled to get more ammo in her gun, fearing this would be the end for her companion if she didn’t free him as soon as possible.

With a growl, The Ghoul took the knife and started stabbing the beast in the face, over and over. Again, the creature howled in pain, but didn’t relent. Dogmeat cried out as one of the six legs got in a forceful kick, throwing her back against a wall.

But then Lucy remembered something...

She had a grenade.

Quickly, she reached in her pack and pulled out the explosive. Then jumped up and, after considering her options for a moment, ran around to the back end of the creature. She hesitated just briefly, then shoved that grenade right up its ass.

Trying to ignore the shit and slime now covering her arm, she bolted back towards the front and took cover.

A moment later, the thorax of the beast exploded into a horrifying slush of red, green, brown and yellowish mush and chunky body parts. The front end let out one last gurgling death groan before finally dropping her ghoul companion and slumping to the floor.

“Gahhh…” The Ghoul growled as he picked himself up and started wiping the mucus off his face. “Motherfucker...” He cursed and spat. “Fucking centaurs.”

“What the hell was that thing!?” Lucy blurted out, still shaking as she stood up from where she had been crouching.

“Goddamn mutant.” He said simply. “Just like them gulpers. Only uglier.”

Lucy stepped up next to him, looking down at the freakish monster in horror, but also relief.

The Ghoul searched around for his hat, then quickly retrieved it and put it back on.

In a bit of a daze, the former vault dweller looked up at him. “You... saved my life.”

"Yeah. And you blew up its ass and saved mine.” He glanced back at her as he spoke, almost sounding appreciative, then sneered in disgust as he tried to wipe off the muck and slop that had splattered all over him. “You alright?”

She nodded, still shaking.

He looked past her and spotted Dogmeat, then quickly stepped over to the canine and kneeled down. “Damn… son of a bitch got you too, huh?”

Dogmeat whined as she limped closer to him, holding one of her back legs up. The Ghoul scratched her cheeks and behind her ears. “It’s alright… you’ll be alright…”

Lucy blinked as she watched him, surprised that he seemed so concerned about the dog.

“Hey… what time does that pip-boy a yers say it is?”

Lucy looked down to check. “It’s… almost seven.”

He stood up and exhaled, then nodded. “Might be best if we stay here tonight.”

“What? Here?? ” The former vault dweller said in disbelief. “After that? What if there’s more of those... things!?"

“Eh… if there were more, they’da already come runnin’.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He looked over at her and tilted his head, appearing a little annoyed. “I’ve been out here a long time, sweetheart. Trust me." He reminded her, then retrieved his gun from the floor and put it back in it's holster. "But if it'll make ya feel betta... I'll do a clean sweep after we find a safe spot fer you two...”

She blinked, then looked away, letting out a little huff. “...Okay… Fair enough.”

“It’s always safer to stay the night indoors, if you can…" He said as he grabbed his pack off the ground and slung it over his shoulder. "Besides, Dogmeat’s gotta rest her leg.”

“Can’t we just give her a stimpack?”

“That’s anotha lesson you gotta learn, darlin'... Don’t waste yo stimpacks on minor injuries that can heal on they own... Ya never know when you might have a real emergency.” He turned towards the pup and she whined as he slung her over his shoulder as well. “Come on. We’ll hold up in one a them units. There’s bound to be one that ain't got somethin’ dead in it.”

To be continued…

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