#am not astronomer so do excuse my mistakes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fayemarvels · 3 years

Text

Backseat rider

Peter Parker x fem!reader (She/her)

Inspo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wU9lOKWFG54

I tried to write this in the second person so please tell me how you like it.

Summary: Inspired by the wonderful song Backseat Rider by Sara Kays, with my little twist on it, and with a happy ending.

You and Peter have been friends for a long time, and he promised you the first ride in his car. When you come back from your Europe trip, MJ is sitting in the passenger side. The fact that you are in love with him doesn't really help.

Or: Peter promised you a ride in his car and his stupid plan fails because he is jealous.

Warnings: angst, fluff, bad writing, grammatical mistakes,

Word count: 5.1k

English isn't my first language so please don't mind the grammar and sentence structure mistakes and stuff. If you have any suggestions on how to improve my writing, please let me know.

! Please don't repost my work anywhere without my permission. Thank you!

My masterlist *******

----

9. September 2013

It was the first day of school and you were standing at a bus stop just a few blocks from your new apartment. You and your parents just moved to queens and you were starting in a new school.

With your new schoolbag which you got for your 12th birthday just 3 days ago slung over your shoulders, you tapped your foot nervously against the concrete under your newly polished shoes.

You were so excited to start 6th grade in a new school, away from the people in your old one. You were always a shy kid and some of the kids from your previous school picked on you just because of that.

The school became hell and you started making excuses as to why not to go in. At first, your parents were annoyed thinking you were just lazy. But you later opened up about your struggles and they started to take action.

But before much happened, one of your parents got a job opportunity in Queens, New York, and without much thinking, took it. When you left the school, you felt like you could finally breathe. A huge boulder fell off your shoulders and you were so excited to find some new friends and meet new people. To get a new start.

Due to the traffic, the bus came with a 7 minutes delay. And as the bus rounded the corner to arrive at the bus stop, a frazzled-looking boy came crashing into you.

Before you could crash to the ground, he caught your hand and pulled you towards him in an effort to save you from crashing into the hard ground.

“I am so so sorry, I didn’t mean to I fell asleep and burned my toast and spilled toothpaste on my shirt, and ” he took a deep breath before he continued with his rambling.

“Oh god I am so sorry, I’m rambling” He scratched the back of his neck.

“It’s alright, truly. But I would really appreciate it if you let me go.” You said quietly and the boy’s eyes widened in horror.

“Sorry, sorry” he kept apologizing and mumbling underneath his breath.

“Please stop apologizing, nothing much happened,” You laughed lightly and he breathed out in relief.

“I’m Peter, by the way, Peter Parker,” he introduced himself more calmly. Now, that he wasn’t rambling and frantically running his hands through his hair, you could finally focus on his features. He was slightly shorter than you, with curly brown hair and chocolate brown eyes that were still tinted with sleep.

“Nice to meet you Peter my name is (Y/N) (L/N).” You introduced yourself and you stepped together into the bus. You looked around for two places to sit, preferably together.

“There,” Peter pointed to the back of the bus. You pushed through the crowd of people standing and made it to the seats. Peter let you sit beside the window and sat beside you.

“The public transport in new york is so horrible,” Peter whined and you raised your eyebrow.

“Is it? I just moved in like 2 weeks ago so I didn’t have much time to explore.”

“Oh, so this is your first day of a new school.” His eyes widened in realization and you nodded.

“What school are you going into?” He asked and you could see the excitement in his eyes.

“Palm tree elementary school.” You answered and Peter jumped in his seat.

“Oh my, me too, that’s so exciting, Ned will be so happy,” he squealed you smiled widely.

You talked the rest of the ride to your stop, and through the short walk to your school. This boy might just make this school much more exciting than you thought.

20. August 2019

“Okay, just wait for me outside of your apartment building I’ll come and pick you up,” Peter said into the phone and you hummed in acknowledgment.

“Okay Petey, I’ll be waiting, I missed you so much throughout the summer, I’m sorry I didn’t call” you apologized feeling guilty.

“It’s okay, I get it, I was the one to suggest it. Okay, I’m leaving, I’ll be at yours in about 10 minutes. ”

You and your family went to Europe for the majority of summer. You tried to keep in contact but of course, it was hard the time difference made it very difficult to find a time where you both can call and don’t lose sleep.

The first person to stop trying was Peter. On a rare call one night, he informed you that he didn’t want you to lose sleep just because you wanted to talk to him

“Don’t worry, you’ll tell me everything when you get back, just don’t forget to bring me souvenirs.” Peter teased and you laughed sadly. You missed him so much and the heavy feeling in your heart wouldn’t go away.

“Okay, just prepare yourself because I’ve gotten you a souvenir from every single location we went to.” You sniffled.

“Hey, don’t cry, everything will be alright nothing will change I promise.”

10 minutes later, Peter pulled up to your parking lot and your heart skipped a beat. Your smile widened and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered. This was the first time you saw Peter after a month and a half. You returned from Europe only 4 days ago so you used that time to get rid of the jet lag.

Your smile dropped when you saw a shadow sitting on the passenger side. You shook your head and moved closer to the car. Peter stepped out of the car and you flung your arms around him. He tensed for a bit before he wrapped you up in his arms and breathed in your scent.

“I missed you so much, you have no idea,” he mumbled into your neck and you pressed your lips into his hair.

“I missed you too, for the last two weeks, my parents were a pain in the ass,” you complained and Peter laughed. Then he got serious.

“Well, at least you have parents.”

“...”

“I’m just kidding, don’t worry bug,” he giggled and you hit his shoulder lightly.

“I hate these jokes,” you complained.

“I know, that’s why I make them.” He giggled and you rolled your eyes.

“Okay. C’mon, I have my classmate MJ here, I wanted to introduce you two he stepped away and you wrapped yourself around yourself.”

Peter opened the back door for you and you thanked him. When you got into the car he closed the door behind you and quickly got into the driver seat.

“So MJ, this is (Y/N). Bug, this is MJ.” He introduced you two and you waved awkwardly.

“Hi, I heard about you so much, is so nice to meet you.” MJ greeted and you smiled.

“I would like to say the same but Peter has never talked of you,” you scratched your neck shyly and MJ waved her hand.

“It’s fine, me and Peter only started hanging out about 3 weeks ago, but we’ve gotten a lot closer.” She explained and you nodded.

“So, Peter told me you are in an art school,” Mj started and you shuffled to the edge of your seat so you could hear better.

“Yeah, I do interior design, color pallets, and furniture designs.” You explained and MJ nodded her head.

“That sounds really cool, you’ll be the first I’ll contact when I’m furnishing my house” MJ laughed and you giggled.

“Yeah sure, just give me a call,”

But then, it got quiet. You just relaxed against the seat behind you and closed your eyes for a few moments.

“So, I saw the star wars movies the other day, it was so good,” MJ exclaimed and Peter laughed out loud.

“I tried to get this lady into it but she hated it. The same with star trek.” Peter said, pointing at you.

“Yeah, I hate it so much,” you chimed in but they didn’t respond. They just continued laughing and talking without you. You couldn’t help but think that they looked so much like the two of you looked when you talked about both of your favorite things.

----

MJ sat in the passenger seat for the next five weeks. When you traveled to school, from school, or even during the weekends.

She was there every single time Peter came to pick you up. And to be honest, it hurt just a bit more every single time you saw her sitting in the front seat of his car.

-----

You and Peter were supposed to go to see the new astronomical exhibition today. You were getting ready in your room when your eyes drifted over a framed picture on your vanity table. It was taken last summer, before he got his car, before MJ. You had taken it with your Kodak disposable camera in a parking lot in front of your local Target. You remember it like it was yesterday.

21. July 2018

It was around 10 p.m. when you and Peter left the target with a plastic bag of candy and a brand new disposable camera that you found in the sale aisle. You tore the safety tape away from the box and pulled out the instruction manual.

“I’m so excited; I’ve never had any of these.” You exclaimed and Peter chuckled at your happy face, threw his arm around your shoulder, and pulled you in closer to him.

“You are going to love it, it’s so fun. Especially because you have no idea how the photos are gonna turn out.” He smiled and you nodded.

“I always watch the tiktoks of people’s reactions to the developed photos, and they always look so happy, I want to try it.” you declared and pulled the camera out of the box.

“First things first bug, just a quick info, you need a lot of lightning for the photos to turn out good,” Peter explained and you waved your hand mindlessly, messing around with your temporary camera.

You quickly pulled out your phone and turned on the flashlight. You put the phone on the ground in front of him and he looked at you puzzled.

“Will you do me a favor and be the first photo on this camera’s film?” You asked him and Peter nodded, acting very posh and snobby.

“It would be an honor, my lady,” he faked a bow and you burst out laughing.

“Okay smile for me,” you giggled and Peter smiled widely. He was so beautiful. Hair messy, and a hoodie a little too big on his body, with the long sleeves making cute sweater paws.

“Come onnn take the picture so we can eat the sweets,” Peter whined and you quickly snapped the picture of him. He bent down, took your phone from the ground, and turned off the flashlight.

“Come on I even got us and your fuzzy socks so your toes won’t get cold,” he said and you hugged him from behind.

“you are the best, you know that?” you mumbled and he shrugged.

“Might’ve mentioned it a few times before” You let him go and he pulled out the blanket from his backpack.

“Come on let’s sit here,” he pulled you towards the curb a few feet away from the spot you were standing at. He sat down, wrapped his arms around your legs, and rested his face on your stomach.

“Let’s sit here and eat all these delicious candies” he looked at you with wide eyes and you dragged your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp.

“Okay Doll, let’s do this,” you teased and he blushed hard.

“Stoop you know I blush when you call me that,” he complained and you laughed softly. You gently unwrapped his arms from your legs and sat down next to him.

“So, let dig in,” you rubbed your palms together and he put the bag between you two.

“I want the Reese’s,” you said and Peter handed them to you.

----

“Smiile,” you smushed your cheek against Peter’s and he smiled into the camera. The flash had gone off and you smiled to yourself.

“I bet this one’s gonna be so good.” He said and you nodded.

“So, as I was saying, May told me that she wants to buy me a car for my 18th birthday. I don’t know how she wants to do that but I’m not complaining.” Peter gushed and you wrapped your arms around his middle.

“I’m so happy for you, you deserve it.” You smiled and Peter continued.

“I want to take you on a road trip when we finish school. All around the US. From New York to L.A,” he looked at you hopefully and you smiled at him widely.

“That sounds so good, we can go to grand canyon and Zion and so much more, Oh my God, we will need so much more of these disposable cameras. Peter, we need so much food and tents and sleeping bags and maps.” You took a deep breath before you continued.

“We should make a checklist, we should start preparing, Peter why are we sitting here?” you asked and Peter gently shushed you by putting his pointer finger on your lips.

“We still have 2 years bug, no need to overthink it, everything is gonna be fine.” He assured you and you nodded.

“Come here,” he pulled you towards him and your head landed on his chest. You snuggled into his chest and breathed in his scent.

----

You were pulled back to reality when your phone rang. It was Peter.

“Hey (Y/N), we are nearly here, only about 4 minutes.” He informed and your breath got stuck in your throat. ‘WE’. MJ is coming with you. He didn’t ask, he didn’t inform you beforehand. He just invited her.

“Ummm Pete I’m suddenly not feeling very well, I think I should go and lay down, maybe you should go alone,” you mumbled and he hummed.

“Okay, get better alright? We can go somewhere tomorrow.” He suggested and you hummed in agreement, as you couldn’t do anything else without breaking down.

“Okay (Y/N) goodnight, get well soon. I’ll see you tomorrow” He didn’t wait for your response before he hung up.

You stared at the phone as the tears cascaded down your cheeks and you put no effort into stopping them. You slowly wiped off the makeup you put on just a few moments prior and threw out the cotton pad.

You stood up from your vanity and moved over to your bed. You couldn’t understand it. What have you done wrong? Just a few months prior, Peter would drop everything to be with you when you weren’t feeling that well. Now, he didn’t even ask what was wrong.

You cursed yourself as you tried to keep your sobs at bay. You lost him and it was all your fault. If you called more often or at least texted and kept in contact during the summer, everything would be fine. He wouldn’t be in his car with someone else but with you. But the more you thought about it the more your mind betrayed you,

‘Wait, he was the one to suggest that you two would stop the contact, did he get tired of you? Did he want to get rid of you? Is he sending signals by hanging out with MJ every single time they should be hanging out alone?’ the thoughts in your brain were running around before they suddenly stopped.

“He didn’t call me bug,” you realized. He always called you bug, never (Y/N). He only called you that when he was annoyed or angry with you. You started thinking back to every single hangout you had in the past 5 weeks to see if you could stumble upon a memory where you angered or annoyed him. Nothing.

Your shoulders sagged and you put your face in your hands.

“What should I do now,” you asked yourself as you tried to remain calm and not to let any more sobs out. As you looked around your room, slowly calming down, you saw a piece of Peter’s hoodie peeking out from your closet. In a rage of fury, sadness, and anger, you quickly gathered every single piece of clothing Peter ever gave you and put them in a cardboard box.

Taking out a piece of paper, you took your favorite pen and started writing a little note for your now ‘ex’ best friend.

Dear Peter, returning your clothes, maybe you can give them to MJ, now that she is your best friend and you don’t care about me. Could’ve at least told me you didn’t want me in your life anymore, instead of sending mixed signals and hurting me by that. Fuck you. – Love, (Y/N)

You signed it with fury coursing through your veins and closed the box with duct tape. You swiped the stray tears that fell down your cheeks and threw on a hoodie.

“Going out for a few minutes!” you shouted to your parents and closed the door, before hearing their response. After putting the hood up, you opened the window to the fire escape and you threw your legs over the window sill, taking the full cardboard box with you.

“Let’s do this,” you mumbled to yourself and dropped down to the ground.

----

The walk to Peter’s apartment didn’t take long, only about 10 minutes. But the walk felt so much longer this time, maybe because this would probably be the last time you would ever make it. You started tearing up just at that thought. You didn’t think this is how it would end. Six years of friendship ended just because you were too annoying. You shook your head and continued walking; you couldn’t afford to burst into tears in the middle of the road.

You stopped in front of Peter’s apartment and let out a shaky breath. This is it. You knew May would be at work, so you let yourself in with the key, underneath their doormat. You stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind you. You rushed into Peter’s room and threw the box on his bed. You didn’t want to linger around and experience the pain of remembering all of the memories you and Peter shared in this room.

You looked around one more time, and your eyes watered when you saw your favorite t-shirt thrown over his chair. You really wanted to take it but decided to against it. ‘He can do whatever he wants’ you thought and closed the door behind you.

The walk from his apartment wasn’t much better. But it was a bit shorter than the one before. You hadn’t had much time to think this time. You just came out of his building and in a few seconds, you were laying in your bed with tears streaming down your cheeks.

Now, that you calmed down a bit and your head cleared, you laid in your bed, looking at the ceiling, face blank of any emotion. You got pulled back into reality by your phone vibrating. You sat up and moved the phone closer to your face. It was Peter.

You had 6 missed calls and 26 unread messages from the curly-haired boy. But you decided to ignore them and turned on the airplane mode. You curled up into a ball and snuggled up into your fluffy blanket. It was going to get better, you will get better, the pain will subdue, the anger will not.

You were so damn angry at him. How could he do this to you, string you along when he doesn’t want you in his life anymore? Letting a few tears slip, you let your eyelids droop and let your mind wander into the darkness of sleep.

----

“I don’t understand, what does she mean by a new best friend? What does she mean by not want her in my life anymore?” Peter asked as he paced around his room, with your note crumpled up in his right hand.

“I think you did the opposite of what you wanted to do you know?” MJ interrupted him and he looked at her horrified.

“This is all my fault, I’m the reason she feels like this,” he mumbled and continued pacing in circles.

“Remind me why you wanted to do this again?” MJ scoffed and Peter stopped to think.

“To make her jealous,” he mumbled and MJ stood up and hit him across the forehead with a rolled-up engineering magazine she found randomly thrown under his pillow.

“You are so stupid, Peter. And I can’t believe I helped you. But at least I got the cute girl’s number,” she mumbled the last part and Peter ran his shaky fingers through his hair.

“I fucked up,” he announced and MJ glared at him.

“Yeah, no shit genius. Remind me how this started again. In detail and soak in just how stupid you are,” she growled out and he got lost in the painful memory.

----

It was around 3 weeks after his best friend left for Europe, he was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram when he saw a photo she posted just 4 hours ago. He went to like it but his thumb froze before he could double-tap. It was a photo of her smiling, looking as beautiful as ever, on a beach with a sunset behind her. But it wasn’t her that made him freeze, it was the boy that was standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist. She was grinning at him, her smile shining brighter than all of the stars in the night sky.

“Who the fuck are you?” Peter mumbled to himself as he looked over more of the photos in the post. As he scrolled, the pair of them only grew closer on the pictures. Them sharing a meal, them in the sea, them on a carnival with a huge green teddy bear in her arms. Just from the last picture, it was clear that the boy won the plushie in one of those shitty scam carnival games Peter couldn’t play even if he really wanted to.

But what really got him, was the post from her private Instagram, the boy from the previous photos was kissing her on the corner of her mouth. Tears gathered up in his eyes as he exited the app and ran his shaky fingers through his hair.

‘Could she have a boyfriend? But she didn’t tell me,’ his breathing got quicker and he had a sudden urge to puke. Before he could stop himself, he opened his contacts app and scrolled to find MJ’s phone number, she could help him.

“Hey, I know this is a lot to ask but I need you to help me make my best friend jealous.” Those words came from his mouth before he could even think about them.

----

“I told you before you started with this stupid plan of yours that it won’t work out,” MJ snapped him out of his mind. Peter stared into the distance before he snapped out of it.

“I need to go and see her, I need to explain,” Peter rushed out before MJ stopped him.

“You need to give her some time, she wouldn’t want to see you, and only get angry or even more upset.” She explained and Peter nodded in understatement.

“You are right, I will let her cool off for a week, and then talk to her,” Peter concluded. MJ blinked in surprise.

“Are you sure you want to give her a week? I was thinking more like 2 days, not 7,” MJ said cautiously and Peter huffed out angrily.

“God, why are you so cryptic, why can’t you just tell me and help,”

“Because this is your relationship, that is on line, not mine. And you want me to solve this for you,” MJ raised her voice and Peter rolled his eyes.

“God, this is useless” he mumbled and the girl in front of him scoffed.

“I can just leave if that’s what you want,” She stood up to leave but Peter grabbed her forearm gently.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m just really anxious and I want to see her. But you are right, I shouldn’t leave her without explanation for such a long period of time,” Peter apologized and MJ nodded.

“I need to go, mum wants to watch this new movie she saw in Target, I’ll text you okay?”

“Okay bye, enjoy the movie,” Peter mumbled and MJ walked out of his room.

“Great Parker, just great,” he mumbled to himself as he watched her leave through his window.

----

2 days later

Peter was standing in front of your school, waiting for you to finish. The last two days have been torture for him and he couldn’t wait to talk to you. When he heard the bell ring on the inside of the building, he stood up from the bench he was sitting on and moved closer to the main entrance, just a precaution and so he wouldn’t miss you walking out.

He started to get worried when he didn’t see you walk out even after 15 minutes.

‘Maybe they had some science lab and are cleaning up or something he thought to himself to calm down a bit. Then, he saw one of your friends, Bee, walk out and he waved at them.

“Hey, she isn’t here today,” Bee said to Peter. He only frowned. That’s weird.

“Okay, thanks Bee, do you think she could be at home? Is she sick?” Peter asked and Bee frowned at him.

“I thought you were best friends, you don’t know where she is?” Bee asked him and Peter looked down looking very guilty.

“We had a fight,” he mumbled and Bee scoffed.

“Well, I guess you fucked up pretty bad because she never misses school.”

“I know, I fucked up and I hurt her, but I just want to make it better, I gave her time to cool off and now, I need to apologize,” Peter explained and Bee nodded their head.

“Okay Parker, last chance, if you hurt her to this extent ever again, I’ll kick you in the balls.” Bee threatened and Peter nodded.

“Don’t worry, this is the first and last time this has ever happened, won’t hurt her ever again, I promise,” Peter said and Bee could tell his words were genuine.

“Fine Parker go, and if she is not at school tomorrow, you are a dead man, I’m telling you that right now.”

“Don’t worry Bee, I’m going to make this right,” Peter promised as he walked away from your school.

----

“Honey, someone is here to see you,” Your mom called out and you looked from under your blanket. You couldn’t function correctly for the past few days, the loss of your best friend being too much to bear.

“Tell them to go away please,” you mumbled and she shook her head sadly. You stopped crying a while ago, no tears left in your body.

You heard a gentle knock on your door.

“Hey bug,” You whipped your head towards the voice, and the tears you thought ran out, welled up in your eyes. He was there, even after he exchanged you for someone else.

“Pete,” you whispered and he quickly walked towards you and sat on your bed. You threw yourself into his arms but then quickly pulled back and furrowed your eyebrows.

“What are you doing here?” you asked and Peter shook his head.

“I came to apologize, I hurt you by my actions and made you think something, that isn’t true at all,” he explained and you tilted your head, reminding Peter of a cute, confused puppy.

“I will just tell you the truth, and hope you will be able to forgive me.”

“I was jealous. It’s simple as that, and now that I’ve said it out loud, it sounds so stupid.” He took a deep breath and slowly tangled his fingers in yours.

“The truth is, I have feelings for you. You know what? Scratch that, I’m in love with you and have been for a long time. When I saw you with the guy in Europe, being all cute and sweet together, I just lost it.” He confessed and looked up to see your face. You had an unreadable expression on your face.

“Fuck, he even got you a huge teddy bear from the carnival scam games, I could never do that for you, and I know you love that corny stuff.” He said with a shaky voice and could feel the tears push into his eyes.

“I wanted to make you jealous, but I hurt you instead and that hurts me even more than seeing you with that boy.” He said and then kneeled on the floor beside your bed. He took your other hand into his and kissed your knuckles gently.

“I’m so sorry Bug, please forgive me,” he begged as he put his forehead against your hand. The tears that gathered in his eyes flowed freely down his perfect face and it hurt you to see him like this. You took your hand away from his and you could see the quick flash of pain on his face. You caught one tear with your finger and whispered.

“Please don’t cry, I’m going to cry too,” he quickly looked up and smiled sadly, when he saw your sunken and tired face.

“I forgive you, Peter.” You said with a crack in your voice.

“And you know, it actually worked out, I was so jealous when I saw you with her.” You confessed.

“I love you too Peter, I always have” you whispered and Peter’s face lit up with joy.

“You, do?” He asked and you nodded with a slight smile on your face.

“I do, so so much,” You caressed his cheek, shuffled closer to him, and kissed him on the forehead.

“Come here and lay with me,” you demanded and Peter chuckled.

“Well, what my lovebug wants, she gets.” Peter teased and you hid your face in the blanket.

“I kinda like it,” you whispered shyly and Peter laughed lightly.

“Scoot over love, let me lay with you.” You shuffled over and Peter slipped under your blanket. He laid down and slowly maneuvered your body, to lay comfortably on his chest.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow, we’ll work it out, I promise.” You mumbled and Peter nodded and kissed the top of your head.

“I love you, Peter”

“I love you my Bug,” It was quiet for a bit before Peter spoke once again.

“So, who was the boy in the photos?”

“PETER!”

-----

I'm sorry I kind of disappeared for two months, but I had an extreme case of writer's block, but I am back. But I still have no ideas so if you have any ideas, I would be forever thankful if you pitched them to me.

I would also like to thank you for 97 followers, it's unbelievable.

I would really appreciate it if you gave me some feedback and told me what I can change.

Thanks for reading

- Faye xxx

134 notes · View notes

ace-trainer-disera · 3 years

Text

I wish all this talk about minors and pedophilia wasn't so rampant in the anime fandoms of tumblr. I get really tired if hearing about it. Especially since I don't agree with the majority.

I'm going to be the "bad guy" here because I need to get it off my chest.

First topic, writing smut for characters under the age of 18 or aging up. We're talking about fictional characters here, right? And anime characters at that. Now, I want you to look at an anime character that's 15 years old and then I want you to look at a real 15 year old. Artists have very obviously exaggerated some qualities, no? I don't think it's reasonable to believe that just because someone is sexually attracted to a DRAWING of a minor that they are also sexually attracted to minors in real life.

My next point; in most of these works, it is two minors engaging in sexual intercorse. If it were a minor and their 30 year old neighbor I'd probably be weirded out, yet still would not step on the authors right to produce that content. Anyway, minors fuck. Teenagers are hormonally charged and curious. You can walk into your local book store right now now and buy a book, legally published by a real publishing house, where two teenagers fuck. And you know what? People don't usually make a big deal about it because they recognize the reality of that situation. I'm not saying anyone has to be comfortable with it, but I am saying there's nothing wrong with it.

It's especially when it comes to aging up characters where I get confused. I've only seen this once, but...something along the lines of "if a pedophile said its okay I pretended they were 18". And imma just say that is not the same thing. The jump between thoughts regarding fictional characters and physical crimes committed against real children by adults is absolutely astronomical here. It's like saying if you write about killing people you might actually do it. Like...you're kidding. Or you're misguided. Or you never properly dealt with your own personal trauma and now you're making everyone's life hell.

Most importantly. My biggest problem with this line of thinking. It. Is. Fiction. There are no rules. You can do whatever you want and there are, and should never be, any limitations whatsoever. People on tumblr shouldn't be slammed for writing a sex scene between two minors when published content in a physical book you can hold in your hand is SO MUCH WORSE. Allow me to enlighten you.

"All the Ugly and Wonderful Things" by Bryn Greenwood is the best book I've read in probably the last five years. What is it about? A romantic relationship between a young girl and an adult man. Am I okay with that kind of relationship? Uh, no, not really. That didn't stop it from being a great book though, now did it?

"Flowers in the Attic" by VC Andrews is an incestuous romance including long term abuse. And it's one of the most memorable books of a generation. It was my mom's favorite book when she was growing up.

"Lolita" by Vladimir Nabokov is a classic novel about pedophilia. A classic. Novel. Does that make Nabokov a pedophile? No it does not. And it is still printed and distributed for a reason.

"120 Days of Sodom" by Marquis de Sade. Now, I'll give you this one. Pretty sure de Sade was a piece of human garbage. And this book? The most vile work of literature in existence. But you know what? It has every right to exist. Because art should know no limitations.

I do have other examples, but I think you probably get my point by now. You can write whatever you want and it is both legal and safe. Sometimes even celebrated. And just because you write about rape, murder, and pedophilia does not mean you would ever commit those acts or even consider it.

This is more like a PART 2.

Minors, do not interact. I only approve of this to an extent. Here's what I'm not okay with. Minors shouldn't be messaging people online and talking about sexual content. THAT is something an adult can get in legal trouble for. But the content creators of tumblr take it much further than that.

I see no reason minors shouldn't be allowed to follow blogs with sexual content, especially if they're of the age of consent (usually 16 in the US). That same minor can walk into a Barnes & Noble and purchase smut with their own money. That same minor can click on the PornHub link and have thousands of pronographic videos at their fingertips, unrestricted. And most importantly, consuming pornographic material is NOT going to hurt a minor. There is no reason they should grow up and regret it, nor should it have a negative impact on them early on.

On top of all that, people block blogs that just don't state their age in the bio. What if I don't want your nosey ass knowing how old I am? That's none of your business. You don't have to be out here looking out for the "safety" of other people.

In conclusion.

Do whatever you need to do to be comfortable with your online interactions, but make no mistake. There's nothing wrong with writing content about ANY illegal or illicit behavior and doing so does not indicate the author may commit a similar offense. There is also nothing illegal (or at least enforceable) about minors consuming pornographic content, nor is it an unhealthy practice.

Now, if you will excuse me, I will go back to screaming internally.

#minors dni #my hero academia #haikyuu!!#jujutsu kaisen #smut #off my chest

54 notes · View notes

lunyrbug · 2 years

Text

RUNAWAYS || Crossposting from wattpad || Chapter 5 [and a note]

jimin shoved the final bag of clothes and supplies into the back of the car. he bent over, hands on his knees as he panted. "what did you pack, jeon jungkook? rocks?"

"i'm bringing my telescope!" the younger boy smiled. "we may finally be able to stargaze for real! we may finally see a full moon in all its glory!" he spoke enthusiastically.

jimin sighed. this was highly expected from the aspiring astronomer. he was very aware that jungkook loved all things nature related, and had stayed up all night so many times before listening to him talk about constellations. he'd gotten him a book for christmas about space and he wouldn't put it down for 2 weeks straight.

the two boys hopped in the car, and jungkook pressed a bunch of buttons on the radio the second the car was on. jimin pulled out of the driveway, glancing at jungkook's excited button pressing. "dude, download cookie clicker on your phone or something, i won't be able to focus on the —” He slammed the breaks as a pedestrian screamed angrily for almost hitting them. he bowed his head as an apology. “—road” he finished his sentence in a voice just above audible as they both sighed of relief. “you had your seatbelt on, right?” he looked at jungkook, who nodded shakily. jimin hummed as the red light turned green, and he started driving again. — it was very dark outside when jimin stopped on a hill he saw in the distance while they were driving. he shook jungkook awake. “kookie, get your telescope!” he whispered excitedly. jungkook groaned. “skies are clear, and the moon is full, kookie! we have to see this.” he said, and sat back at a safe distance as he watched jungkook fling the seatbelt off of him, hop out the car, and run on his tired legs to the trunk. just as he finished setting up, he heard a yell in the forest a few meters away. that got jimin out of the car too. “jungkook, did you hear that?! what if someone’s hurt?”

“what, do you think there are werewolves out here, hyung? no? then they’ll be fine. maybe it’s a stress reliever, who cares?” jungkook reasoned, carrying his telescope stand to the front of the car to get a better view. he placed the actual telescope on and peered through. “...beautiful.”

“and if we’re blamed for a murder?” jimin asked, voice still terrified. “we’re already running away.” jungkook replied. “how bad could it possibly be?” “how bad could it — VERY BAD, JUNGKOOK.”

“what? Are you scared of a little murder case? we could be on tv as witnesses!”

“no i’m just so ecstatic- OF-FUCKING-COURSE I’M TERRIFIED.”

—

hoseok was free.

he was in a sea of trees, true. but he didn’t care where he was, as long as he was free. he stretched his arms out in a T shape and felt the wind against them. For once in his life, he didn’t have to worry about going back home. he didn’t have to care about going back home to be restricted and tied down like a kid’s bounce house.

he was so used to being quiet in the household he almost forgot what it felt like to use his own voice. he introduced himself to the trees.

“my name is jung hoseok… i’m happy to be here.”

his voice came out like a whisper, but at least it came. he didn’t want to be quiet. he wasn’t expected to be silent anymore. he was to be seen and heard. he looked out to the starred sky and yelled. not of pain. not of sadness. not even of anger anymore. his yell was of victory. triumph. he made it out, and will live to tell the story.

suddenly, a sass-toned voice spoke from behind him.

“is that your idea of howling at the full moon?”

[note: i am leaving for a road-trip tomorrow, which is why i have posted a slightly rushed chapter for those who enjoy the fic. please excuse any mistakes made and have a good time while i'm gone! i'll be more active after the 27th of june, promise.]

#cross posted on wattpad #writeblr #bts fic #bangtan #bts namjoon #jin #taehyung #jimin #jungkook #hobi #suga #min suga genius #-lunyrbug #lowercase intended #new

3 notes · View notes

tomtenadia · 4 years

Text

Island Dreams - Chapter 7

Hello everyone.

I have a day off so the update to day is an early one. The reason I am updating basically daily is that this story just came to me and I knew exactly what i wanted to write. The chapters come easily and I don't think I ever written this easily. Ever. I hope to be able to post regularly.

So, chapter 7, things move a bit more. Rowan tells her his idea to make her happy again and they get a bit closer. Elias shows up and he and Rowan have a stand off. If we were in a fantasy, Aelin would be calling them both "overprotective fae bastards."

There is angst and I am sorry about that. Aelin is having a hard time. But things are improving soon. I promise.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter.

A big, massive, gigantic virtual hug and thank you to everyone who liked the story or reblogged it. Thank you all so very much. And to everyone is reading only... thank you to you too <3

------------------

A couple of days had passed and Aelin kept herself as busy as possible and went to visit again some of the places that were becoming her favourite sites. That day she was taking another day off from gallivanting around the island and was now on her way to Rowan. She had finished the book and she had to discuss it with him. And that special aspect of their complex relationship made her happy. But first of all coffee and breakfast. With the confidence of a local she walked along the streets and went straight to Maeve’s. Once in she noticed it was quite busy, but the woman had time for he and greeted her warmly and with a soft smile. “Good morning, darling.” The woman squeezed her in a gentle hug “What can I do for you?” “Could I please have two coffees to go and…” she looked at the counter full of fresh food. Her mouth watering “Does Rowan like apple turnovers? I am bringing breakfast to him.” “Alas, my nephew does not like sweet food.” “He what?” The shock clear on Aelin’s face. Maeve grabbed a small box from the counter behind her “I know. He is strange. I made him some of the oatmeal biscuits he loves. It took me a while to perfect the recipe but he will eat these.” Aelin grabbed the container and placed it in her backpack, then grabbed the coffees and the paper bag with the apple turnovers. “Thank you, Maeve.”

She left the coffee shop and began walking toward the alien that was Rowan. How was it possible that he did not like sweet food? He could not be a regular human being. Once at the bookshop she realised her hands were full, and Rowan was looking the other way. With her butt she pushed the door open and a moment later Rowan finally noticed her struggle and was at her side holding the door before she dropped everything and made an epic mess of their breakfast. “You could have said something. I would have helped you carry everything.” “I did try to get your attention but you were staring at the computer.” “Sorry, I was dealing with an order.” “You are an alien, by the way.” In a few steps she closed the distance and walked to the counter where she deposited the two take thermos mugs. “Excuse me?” “How can you not like sweet stuff?” Aelin plopped the container with his biscuits on the counter and then the bag with her breakfast “Your aunt made your favourite biscuits.” “I like to eat healthy foods.” And munched on his own biscuits. She scooted past him and sat on the high chair behind the counter and enjoyed her breakfast and her smile was back and Rowan relaxed a bit. He hadn’t seen her in two days and he was worried after what happened last time she was there. Aelin pointed a finger at him “so boring.” She wiggled her finger at him. Rowan launched forward and pretended to bite her finger. In challenge she stared at him with a poker face and kept eating, closing her eyes with delight. The food was incredible. She moaned quietly and Rowan froze at the sound. Fuck. A different kind of picture popped in his head. The two of them on a bed with far less clothes on and his mouth… He blinked the image away and forced himself to rid his brain of that picture. He coughed gently “Choked on coffee, sorry.” He lied shamelessly. She would have killed him if she had known where his mind had gone. Hey Aelin, I know we just became friends, but I just imagined you naked on my bed and my head between your legs. Still fancy being my buddy? He cleared his voice again “I was thinking…” Aelin stopped drinking her coffee and looked at him “You know that is dangerous for you, right?” He glared at her and continued “Would you like to… I thought that maybe…” he was struggling to find the way to suggest to her the idea he had thought about last time he had seen her. Why was he so bad at this? “The shop… you could, work with me. If you want.” He clarified quite quickly “It’s just an offer. You love books, you have a knack for displays,” and he pointed at her table “and you might like the money too…I can't pay you like a doctor but, it's just the two of us, thus the pay is quite decent and life on the islands is cheap." Aelin liked the idea. Having an income would help a lot. She had savings but they were starting to take a hit. She had even bought a car after returning the rental. And he was right, life on the islands was indeed much cheaper. She was so used to the astronomical price in London. “Are you asking me to work here?” He could see the joy in her eyes and the view took his breath away. “Yeah… and I sucked at it.” Aelin deposited her mug on the desk and then threw her arms around his neck and squealed in delight “Of course.” Then she quickly moved away and began jumping behind the counter “I will be working in a bookstore. Do I get staff discount?” “You can get a staff discount.” He nodded and Aelin smiled again. But a part of Rowan was terrified. Last time he had another person working in the shop it did not end well. He tucked the sadness away and convinced that this time it was different. He and Aelin were just friends. She was not interested in him that way, plus she had the other guy and probably it was for the better. He breathed deeply and regained focus. He left the counter and went to his back office. When he got back he had a bundle in his hands “I have been thinking about this for a few days now and I got you a t-shirt to work here.” “Mine.” Said Aelin grabbing the t-shirt and disappearing to the staff toilet to get changed. She came back a few minutes later grinning “How do I look?” She walked to him swayed her hips in a sensual way that made Rowan sweat “Perfect. Now get that box and start unpacking.” “Yes, sir.” Aelin produced a military salute and went back to work. The two worked in silence for a few hours. Aelin unpacking, checking the deliveries and arranging some of the display. Rowan at the counter working on his computer on paperwork. They had a busy morning and Aelin had a lot of fun helping the customers giving time to Rowan to do his stuff. They even had a few groups of tourists in an Aelin gave her loads of suggestions. She was giddy. Again that feeling of lightness in her soul she hadn’t felt in ages. On her knees she was rearranging the fiction section and stopped to look at a book that sounded quite interesting “Have you read this?” She asked him, waving the books in his direction. Rowan joined her and kneeled in front of her, far too close for comfort. He took the book from her hands and looked at it. Aelin in the meantime stared at him transfixed and a small smiled appeared on her face. She wanted to run her hand in his hair. She wanted to taste if his lips were as soft as she imagined them. And his hands. She stared at his hands. Lysandra’s comment popped in her head and she pushed it away. She was at work. Not appropriate. “Spaceship Rowan to Aelin, are you there?” Fuck. Did he notice her staring at him like a moron? “Sorry, away with the fairies.” “I said that this is a good one.” “Good.” She regained control of herself and placed the book on the side on the floor “I’ll give it a go.” In that instant the door opened and they both looked up and Aelin gasped. Elias just entered the shop, then he looked at her close proximity with Rowan, and gave him a hard stare.

Rowan stood quickly “Hello.” He said quite icily. “Hi Elias.” That was all she could manage. Her heart was racing madly in her heart. “My meeting finished early. So I went for coffee, passed in front of here and saw you.” He noticed her uniform “In that.” “Oh yeah. I started working here.” “Since when?” “Since about two hours ago.” “Oh.” That’s all he said. A strange emotion flashed in his eyes. Was Elias mad at her? Was that jealousy? “I don’t have meeting until later in the afternoon. Fancy going for a ride?” And he uttered the words while staring at Rowan in a clear challenge to the man at Aelin’s side. Aelin turned to Rowan. He nodded and placed a hand on her lower back in an almost proprietary gesture and Elias noticed the gesture. “You can go. I got all my paperwork done this morning, thanks to you. I man the fort for the afternoon. Go, have fun.” There was a softness in his words she never felt from him. He jerked his head “Go.” “Are you sure?” “Positive.” with his hand on her back he pushed her away from him. “I’ll se you tomorrow, I guess?” Rowan gave her a wonderful warm smile. Then Elias held out a hand to her and she timidly took it “Ready to go?” “My backpack.” She collected her belongings and she joined the man. One last look at Rowan and she followed Elias out, feeling guilty. They went to his car and he started driving. Both in silence. They were on the road, in the countryside outside Stornoway when she finally broke the silence “You are mad.” “I am not.” His tone told her otherwise. Aelin scoffed “Yes you are. You are gripping the steering wheel so hard that your knuckles are almost white.” He realised his mistake and released the grip a bit. “Most importantly. You are mad at me.” “Why were you working with him? I thought you were a doctor.” He was definitely spoiling for a fight. She looked outside the window and stared at the rolling landscape and tried to soothe the pain in her soul. “So what? Does that mean I can’t work in a bookshop?” “You can work wherever you want, okay?” And his anger came back. “It just seems a waste.” Aelin’s head whipped in his direction and flashed him a deadly glare “You what?” Her tone matched his in terms of nastiness. “All I am saying is that it sounds like you were this awesome doctor down in London and now you are here, in this small town, playing bookseller. Damn it, Aelin. Dream bigger.” A surge of savage anger rushed through her “Stop the car.” When he did not comply she shouted again “Stop the fucking car, Elias.” Worried by her tone, he pulled over in a safe place and she stormed out as soon as the car was stopped. She slammed the door and moved to the front of the car, meeting him “How dare you.” She growled at him “How fucking dare you to tell me what to do with my life. Dream big?” She pushed him on his chest “I dreamt big my entire fucking life. I had a goal. And that goal has been taken from me in the most hurtful way possible, so don’t you dare.” She sat on the hood and refused to look at him “I gave my life to my job. Every single fucking day of my life.” She said through gritted teeth “And it probably even costed me my marriage. I gave everything.” She was breathing hard and she knew a panic attack was coming. She had a few in the past few days. And the thing scared the hell out of her. Last time she suffered from panic attacks was when she was an intern. That’s how messed up her life was just now. She tucked her arms around her waist, closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. “I am sorry, I didn’t…” he was in front of her and there was deep sadness in his eyes. “I am an idiot. I am sorry, Aelin.” She started crying as well. She was struggling to breath and when she tried to pull away from the car hood, Elias had the scare of his life when she collapsed on her knees “Shit, Aelin.” She was crying and hyperventilating at the same time. Her tears now turned into full ugly sobs. He moved closer but Aelin pushed him away “Don’t touch me.” He ignored her and hugged her. She fought him for a moment but then she she gave up to his embrace. Elias felt her shaking. “I can’t breathe…” her voice was shaky and he recognised the telltales of a panic attack. He lifted her chin “Look at me.” And she did “Breath in… then breath out. In.. and out…” He caressed her head trying to give her some comfort after he was the one who caused all of this. She did just that for a few minutes. “How are you feeling?” “Dizzy and about to be sick.” She jumped up and run at the side of the road and hurled. Elias stared at her with worry not knowing wether his proximity would help or make things worse. Aelin leaned on the car exhausted. She was still shaking but he breathing was slowly going back to normal but she still felt very dizzy. Probably from all the hyperventilating. Damn she was a doctor she should be able to handle her panic attacks better. But in the past few days they have been quite bad. And that did nothing to lower her stress levels. She was almost at the breaking point. She turned toward Elias and a wave of dizziness hit her. He noticed her sway on her feet and a moment later he was at her side “Hey…” his arms went around her “Shhh… hold on to me.” He felt her arms loosely wrap around his back. “I am taking you home.” “I am fine.” She added stubbornly, pushing away from him to prove that she was okay. But she wasn’t. When she swayed another time, Elias lifted her in his arms and opened the passenger door “We are going home. You need to rest. Panic attacks this bad can leave you exhausted for a while.” He got back in the car and began driving back into town. Fifteen minutes later he was back at the marina in their usual car park. “Hey, baby…” she gently nudged her awake “We are back.” Aelin woke up and looked at him and then focused her eyes on the area around her. She went to open the door but Elias’ hand was on hers “Let me drive you home, please.” “I can walk.” Her voice told him otherwise. “Aelin, please.” Then he smiled and lifted his hands “I’ll keep them to myself. I promise. I just want to see you home safely. You gave me a fright.” She sat back and gave in. “Fine. I live on Newton st. The only light blue cottage there.” He replied with a smile and she leaned back. Five minutes later they arrived in front of her cottage. He parked along the pavement and left the car, walked in front of it and in a matter of seconds he was at her side holding the door open for her “M’lady…” and bowed. Aelin stood and still felt a bit dizzy, something he did notice so he followed her. In front of the door, Aelin hesitated “Come in. We had no lunch and you must be famished.” “You don’t have to cook for me.” Aelin did her best to give him a weak smile “I have some Indian leftovers, if you are not too fussy.” “Which one did you use?” “The one along the main road to Lews castle. Apparently that is the best one in town.” “That is the best one.” They entered the room. He noticed her removing her shoes and he did the same. “Kitchen is on the right.” She directed him, her voice filled with exhaustion. “Do you want some as well?” Aelin shook her head, “I’ll just have some chamomile tea.” She left him in the living room and made her way to her bedroom upstairs. She came back a few minutes later in her pyjama. Elias was in the living room. A plate full of food on the coffee table a glass of water and a mug of steaming chamomile for her. “A cookie monster pyjama.” He laughed “You are the woman of my dreams.” She lifted her leg, wiggled her toes showing off her Calvin and Hobbes socks. “You are bloody perfect, you know?” She ignored the comment “Is the food still good?” “Oh yeah. I usually buy a lot from them and polish it off the next day and it’s always still tasty. Not my first time.” He turned to her and she looked exhausted and he felt deep worry “I am sorry for what I said.” She leaned heavily against the back of the sofa “Not today, Elias, I don’t have the mental strength right now.” “You should go to bed.” “The chamomile usually helps me sleep.” She took a sip and tasted something sweet “Did you put honey in it?” “Yeah, that’s how my mom used to make it for me when I was little. It tastes amazing.” Aelin took another sip and hummed in pleasure. “Sweet to perfection.” “Get a room you two.” Slowly she leaned on his shoulder. He shifted his position a bit so that she could lean a bit more comfortably against him. Slowly he placed the empty plate on the coffee table and leaned back. One arm went around her back and pulled her closer. With the other he removed a stray lock of hair from her face. Aelin continued sipping her tea but both stayed in silence for a while. She was still mad at him for what he had said, but she had no strength to fight. So, she just gave up and enjoyed his presence beside her. “I wanted to be an archaeologist when I was little.” He started telling her, hoping to distract her from her thoughts “I had watched Indiana Jones a bit too much I guess. But also, my parent’s house was near Callanish as well. They live about ten minutes form my current house.” The hand around her shoulder started caressing her hair “My dad used to take me and my brother to the stones almost on a daily basis and tell us all the myths and legends. And that’s when the obsession started.” “That place is awesome.” “My brother loved the legends but he was in the firefighter phase.” He explained “And by the way he actually is a firefighter. He is the captain of his unit.” “No way.” Elias nodded “I, on the other hand I started using our garden to dig holes. I knew that was an area rich in settlements remains and I was adamant our garden contained an archeological treasure. I destroyed my mum’s garden.” And he laughed “When I was in high school I did manage to get a placement with some guys working on digs on Shetland, the islands in the very, very north of Scotland. They have some amazing Viking stuff. It’s mind-blowing. Anyway…” he stopped when he felt he hand on his knee “I spent a month working on the remains of a Viking longhouse. It was epic.” “It sounds like. I love Vikings.” “Then I came back home, went back to school and one of my teachers destroyed my dream of becoming an archaeologist. She told me that I was going to waste my time. She one was of those who believe only scientific careers actually mattered. Not a nice woman. But I was young and I listened to her. So I took engineering.” She squeezed his knee “Med school is just as a nightmare as they paint it. Your social life disappears. And once you are an intern… sleep becomes a luxury as well. That’s when the panic attacks started. My stress levels were off the roof. Too much coffee, lack of sleep, infinite hours. By the time I finished I was a wreck. I choose my specialisation and worked hard every day of my life. Then a year ago everything went to shit.” “You said you were married.” Aelin nodded “We met at the hospital. He is a police officer. I had been called in the A&E for a consult on a police officer who had been injured pretty badly in the line of duty in a very seriously deprived part of London. The officer was trying to stop a case of domestic abuse. He almost got killed in the process. Chaol, my ex, was his partner. That’s when we met. Seeing the police in an A&E was not unusual. And I used to do a lot of rotations there as well if I was not in surgery. Anyway, Chaol once brought me a cup of coffee, we started chatting and we hit it off. Four years later we married. Five more and I gave him divorce papers.” He pulled even closer and kissed the top of her head “Do you regret the divorce?” “Hell no, he had it coming. No… no…” she grabbed her mug again “But it just not easy to ignore nine years spent with someone, especially when eight of those years had been great.” “I imagine you can’t.” Elias then stood and cleared up his dishes. By the time he washed everything, she had fallen asleep on the sofa. Gently he lifted her in his arms and walked upstairs looking for the bedroom. He put her to bed and covered her with the blankets. He found a notepad and scribbled down a note for her

You fell asleep while I was doing the dishes. That should have been me :) Hope you and cookie monster had a nice slumber, my princess. I’ll text you tomorrow to check that you are okay. I have a crazy day at work tomorrow so no adventure. Please, take it easy.

Good night, Elias.

He then got back downstairs, grabbed the keys from a tray on a shelf, left the house, locked the door and pushed the keys through the letterbox. Once outside he looked up at her bedroom door and smiled. He was mad about her. He’d move the world for one of her smiles.

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #lysandra #aedion x lysandra #fanfic #angst #fluff #throne of glass series

30 notes · View notes

anotherbeingsworld · 4 years

Text

The First Moon

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x F!MC (Casey Valentine)

Summary: The first full moon with one Louis Lahela, as it became a tradition till the very end.

Rating: G/Fluff

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except the storyline.

Word Count: 1849

A/N: Heyy!! I am finally writing-ish again for now! I havent been writing in a while and this is what I got so far! Uni has been busy along with the lack of inspiration and my scattered mind above all. I have lots of uni related stuff coming and, its definitely gonna take a lot of time. But... I will try to write as much as I could! And... OH is coming back, I am excited to see our surgeon again!! But, here is a fluffy family fic that just somehow came to me days ago as the moon has been shining so beautiful lately. I apologize in advance for grammar mistakes, and... I hope all of you enjoyed it! A special thanks to all my amazing friends here, you guys been amazing and I appreciate all of it.<3

Tags: @bitchloveskcbaseball , @storyofmychoices @jaxsmutsuo , @mvalentine , @princess-geek , @lahellacute , @kacie-0156 , @simp-for-villains , @annekebbphotography , @brycelahel, @mrsbhandari , @dcbbw , @choicessa , @choices-confessions , @aylamwrites , @fantasyoverreality98 , @drakewalker04 , @baltersome , @thecordoniandiaries , @thundergom @choicesficwriterscreations @starrystarrytrouble, @ohramsey , @kelseaaa , @rookie-ramsey , @bratzlahela , @ohvamsey

LINK TO MY MASTERLIST

525′600 minutes since one Louis Lahela been introduced to the world as a gift weeks before Casey's birthday. It was the greatest gift one could ever give, as they had finally been a family after all these years. They have been trying for years, for the chance to grow a family of their own. To have kids, to be known as parents.

Their life wasn't very much beautiful, but… the world where they had the chance to be together. The world where the medical world has bonded them together through a place named Edenbrook Hospital.

Their journey together wasn't as easy as people thought, they were obstacles before they found their own happily ever after which leads to a new beginning. From the secrecy of his past, her conflicts towards her personal feelings, the arrival of his past, and… several reasons that kept pushing them away. But, one day. It suddenly disappeared as she realizes her true feelings, as he didn't want to push it away anymore. They wanted to make it work, to be together, and…its true, if you are meant to be, nothing could stop you. And, they knew.

Years later, they finally had the chance to expand their small family as one Louis Lahela was born. It was a long procedure as Casey was put in labor for 25 hours. It was a painful process, as the risk was life and death. They knew the risk, they knew there was a chance for death. The small price to pay in the sense of motherhood, as Bryce held her hand through the pain. The sound of crying, as the room went silent. They survived. Casey and their newborn had survived, and… the tears that were falling down his eyes were the ones he never expected to fall. The one, that he knew was coming… but, he never knew that the tears as the moment he becomes a father made him cry. The one moment he never saw coming, as he moved on with his life. The moment where he left his past, to follow his dreams. But, meeting her. He finally found his new dream, to be with the one he loved the most. And, that person is one Casey Valentine. His wife, his soulmate, his best friend, his partner, and… his one true love. Forever and always.

-------------

'Do you think he is ready for the real world, Bryce?' Casey asked as they were getting ready for their family outing. As they were a family of 3, instead of two.

'He has the confidence of his father, and the brains of his mother. I think he is ready for anything, aren't you?' Bryce uses his skills to make the baby smile, a skill that he mastered for this very occasion.

'That confidence might lead us to two troublemakers in the future, Dr. Lahela.' A smile on her face, as the Lahela family started on their first journey together.

'Then…. We might need to balance it out real soon.' Bryce replied with a wink, making her blush at the thought of expanding. They had talked, and they were both okay with either a big or a small family. And, Casey wanted a huge family. She never had many relatives as it was always been Dan and herself against the world. Bryce didn't voice out an opinion since Casey knows despite everything, he is going to be the best dad in the world. Either way, they are very happy with what they have now.

-------------

The journey was short, as they arrived at the park. It wasn't as packed, as it was a weekday. A day where both doctors decided to take a day-off on their free days. It was a way Bryce suggested getting closer to him, as every second of the day. Louis is growing up to become his own man, and… honestly, he wasn't ready to bid goodbye to him once he graduates or to leave him in this world once his time was run out. He knows all of their days are numbered, he wanted to spend as much as he could before he was taken away from him.

They decided to settle on a picnic table, as Keiki joined in the festivities with her favorite nephew. Keiki held onto the picnic basket, as Casey held little Louis in her arms who was asleep soundly. They were shocked that he wasn't a fussy baby, as Casey remembers the story her mother used to tell Bryce before. The fact that she was a fussy one, always cried especially in her car rides.

Louis is different. His tears can be heard as he was welcomed to the new world. Besides that, he was known as a very quiet baby as he wouldn't cry.

-------------------

Their day was filled with baby-family fun activities, as they spend their day with each other's company. Keiki somehow has become apart of their small family, and Casey wouldn't have it any other way. Both herself and Keiki would have their girl talks session that either involves planning Louis's outfits or Keiki's life stories about an adolescent Bryce Lahela from long ago. As a bonus, they managed to capture a lot of their moments. All of the good moments that one day they can go back to, during a rainy day maybe.

Keiki excuses herself as the sun finally sets. Leaving the family of three, as the moon is shining above them. They were exhausted from the activities and, honestly…spending time together as a family made it much worth despite their jobs. All of the families were seen before had left, leaving them. The air was cold, as Casey slips onto Bryce's trusty jacket with their little bundle in his arms.

They found out that Louis was indeed a night owl, as he would often be awake during the early hours of the day. And, tonight was not different at all, as he was awake. He was fully awake in Bryce's arms, cooing at the unfamiliar sight which is not his cot or the sight of his baby room. It was entirely different as his eyes slowly follow the view, searching some familiarity until he was met with his mother's emerald eyes. Looking at him gently, as he was taken in her arms.

Casey gazes upwards, as the moon was shining brightly above them. The little boy in his arms jumps excitedly at the unfamiliarity as the parents can sense the love for adventure that was mostly from Bryce. She gave him an all-knowing look, as they are going to be two troublemakers in the house very soon. The small on his face makes her heart flutters as he placed a kiss on her cheek. And one for his little boy.

'Look, Louis look up!' Casey exclaims excitedly as she points the shining moon above them. Louis followed the gesture, as his eyes lands on the round moon above him. He jumps excitedly in her arms, as his gaze was glued to the moon above him.

'It's the moon little boy! It's a huge moon!' Bryce encourages along as Casey held Lil Louis in her arms who is jumping excitedly at the sight.

'Bah bah, moooh!' His voice sounded mimicking Bryce's words as his eyes gazed on the shining moon.

Casey felt herself tearing up a little at these small moments, the moments she heard a lot growing up. The moments where she wanted to have a family of her own when she was in high school. The moment where her parents told her, to not take it granted. These are the moments where she looked forward to. The moments where it was them against the world.

'It was his first time recognizing the moon, I think I know where he gets that side of his from..' Bryce's eyes narrow at her, as Casey was an astronomer lover at heart despite medicine being her life work. He remembers the little stories her mom used to tell him, about Casey's obsession in stargazing, and anything space-related. Her mother always thought that she would become an astronomer of her own, but... medicine was her destined path and she was proud of how far she came as Casey grew up becoming her best self, and now… the best mother in the world in his eyes.

'He might be the future astronomer in the family aren't you Lil Louis?' Casey said giving him kisses on his cheeks and all, as Bryce lets out a small laugh.

'Or.. maybe a surgeon?'

Casey shook her head,

'Nope, no more scalpel jockey's in the house. Anything but that.' Casey protests as Louis claps suddenly at the sight of a shooting star above them. Both of their gazes followed him, as a smile appears on their faces.

It was their first shooting star with Louis, along with the first full moon for one Louis Lahela. Hypothetically speaking. It was a start that they didn't even know they will ever get a year ago. Standing there now, it felt unreal as they were finally a family. Their wish had finally come true, as Casey knows hers had came true a long time ago, as she first laid eyes on one Bryce Lahela, as the rest of her life was history.

The shooting star above them was slowly falling from a far distance, as the family of three stood silently with the happy coos of their little boy was heard as both of them made their wish.

After a few moments, they opened their eyes. As his hazel eyes were met with hers, a wished was made in silence as they decided to return to their home. Little do they know, their wishes had finally come true, moving forward.

------------------

They were more nights like these until the day fate had taken both of them away. Savoring their last moments together, as he lets out his final breath with Casey by his side, as Louis wished upon a similar shooting star years ago. Wishing to bring them back to the moment before, where he saw his first moon.

The first and the last as a family, he grew up becoming the person who both Bryce and Casey raised him to be; an astronomer with a gold heart. He also had two younger sisters who managed to follow his parents' footsteps, as Kailani followed their father's footsteps in becoming a surgeon whilst Alexandra followed their mother's footsteps in becoming a doctor in internal medicine.

The three siblings stood together, at the same spot years ago. The moon was shining above them, as the memories from their past emerge once more. It has been a routine for the Lahela family, as they would often visit the same spot in a few months for a small reunion or maybe…just a chance to relive the old memories once more, as the three siblings know that both Bryce and Casey are happily looking over them, with a proud facial expression at the two shooting stars above the three of them. Just the way it should be.

THE END.

A/N: Heyyy, its me! And I hope all of you enjoyed it! It was a sweet and fluffy one this time, since I am wanting some fluffy bryce content! But, the story kinda made me teared up especially towards the end, as it ends in a not-so happy way. But, its still a happy ending to me! Writing Bryce and Casey really bring me happiness somehow as all the stories were the fantasies that I had for a long time, and bringing it here. It felt amazing, thank you so much for reading once more! I hope all of you had a nice day! <3

#bryce x mc #bryce lahela #casey valentine #anotherbeingsworldwrites #open heart #imagines #moon #fanfics

43 notes · View notes

1zashreena1 · 4 years

Text

No Shame -2

Pairing: M/F, nebulously OC/Priest!Diego Jimenez [Starz Power] AU IMAGINE

Rating: LITERAL FILTH

Warnings: Power imbalance, astronomical blasphemy, Diego’s pornographic mouth, old timey woman related bullshit, set some time before 1900 in what will be present day Mexico

A/N: I guess I’m just gonna keep writing until it stops?? I am an atheist so please keep that in mind as I unintentionally mangle Christianity in general and Catholicism in particular. This was prompted by an ask, you know who you are >.>.

Tag a friend! @girlpornparadise @nicke0115 @fleurfatale89 @mandoplease @heresathreebee @chensingmachinee

It takes some effort to lace up a steel boned corset by yourself while wearing it, but you manage.

"He already admitted to liking you, honey, calm yourself." Your father laughs uproariously at the ridiculous display of cleavage.

You shrug helplessly, Dress to impress and all that, you suppose. Besides, I want him to suffer. This time you do wear all the underpinnings deemed a requirement by polite society. You are going to make him work for it.

This was a mistake.

He had sent a cabriolet with its driver, that should have been your first clue.

The hacienda is a sprawling estate, acres of land carved from the surrounding jungle and most likely painstakingly maintained. You pass through meticulously flattened fields with small cabins for workers and then gently rolling pastures closer to the main house. There is a large stable and an adjacent training paddock where two exquisite horses are being worked. You ache to see the beautiful animals, they had always been beyond the means of your family.

Several other carriages are already here. Oh no.

This is so far above your station that you feel sick. This is a world of landed gentry, of manners drilled in by formal boarding schools and titles you could never aspire to touch. You have severely misunderstood what it meant to be a Don.

Why did he do what he did in the church? Why invite me here? Why ask my father to court me? I am nothing compared to this. You despair silently, your father oblivious next to you.

The servants seem to know who you are, And isn't that terrifying?, and you're led into some kind of sitting room with other guests. Your dress must be incredibly out of fashion, people are staring. Although it could be the vast stretch of cleavage on display, you make note that most of the other women are significantly smaller than you. Their brightly colored dresses are trimmed in lace with subdued skirts, your skirt has rather a lot of flounce to it and the lilac color seems so… bland. Their hair is combed and neatly contained, artfully placed solitary ringlets that you know were made with curling tongs. Your natural curls are wild and expansive, the single twist at each of your temples combined into one long braid down your back only to keep it out of your face. There is a family of blondes, but everyone else is brunette. Your deep red hair is garishly out of place.

I do not belong here. You are desperately trying to fabricate some excusable sickness to beg off and escape when you see him. He has a smartly dressed woman hanging off of each arm and is gesticulating wildly while relaying some story. Dressed in garments so fine you do not even know what the material is, the sight of him makes your womanhood clench and your nipples pebble.

Ridiculous.

He catches sight of you as you are turning away. You spotted some books on a shelf in a corner and are about to seek refuge when he breaks away to head straight for you. For the first time in your life you opt for cowardice and run. From the edge of your vision you can see that all it does is lengthen those stalking strides. The books that were meant to be your salvation are, of course, in Spanish. Well damn.

An extremely large hand lands on your lower back and your heart leaps. He rumbles much too closely for polite company, "Buenas noches, Señorita. You look ravishable."

Did he mean ravishing? You make the mistake of looking up into that painfully handsome face. His grin is pure predator. No, he did not. Your temper flares with your desire.

"Good evening, Father." You hiss quietly. "You have a lot of nerve." Is it rude to immediately insult your host?

"Me? But yet, here you are. Tell me, little girl, did you wear anything under your skirts this time?" Those dark eyes twinkle happily. He is enjoying this. You lean down to place a book on the end table and his gaze drops to your chest. Licking his lips, he mutters under his breath, "We have a selection of proverbs here. Somewhere."

This man is infuriating.

"Do you expect to find out?" The question is meant to sound condescending, it seems a tiny bit hopeful. Your brain is muddled by his proximity, the scent of expensive toiletries is highly distracting. You bathed outside under a spring fed waterfall this morning. What am I doing?

"I suppose that depends on how sinful you have been today. If you have yet to sin, may I offer my hand in assistance?" Diego leans closer with his seemingly solicitous offer. You are struck by the near perfect arrangement of his features, the tiny crinkles at the outer corners of his eyes only adding to his appeal. His lips are framed by perfectly trimmed facial hair, the smooth cheeks a sign that he must have shaved today. His smirk reminds you that you’ve been staring at him breathlessly.

"I am sure I can handle myself." You smile beautifically. He exhales in a huff, his shoulders dropping in surprise at your innuendo. Then he smiles a real smile.

You are devastated. He is a very attractive man, but this, this is blinding. Your heart stutters, your stomach drops, and you nearly whimper.

"I, I saw your horse." What? WHAT? Why did you just say that? "And the others, outside, on our way in." If you could melt into the wall and disappear that would be wonderful.

The hand on your back rubs a small circle comfortingly. Diego steps closer yet, his hip brushes your elbow and you curse your stature. He quirks a brow with his next question, "Do you like to ride?"

He is fairly excited at the prospect of your answer but you have no idea why. You cross your arms to get a tiny bit of space from him, it only amplifies your bust. Sighing, you answer, "I do not know. My family was never in a position to own a horse." There. Now he knows how poor you truly are, just how far below him.

"A shame." He murmurs, "You are built for it." His hand sinks lower to the very top of your buttocks. There is something you are definitely missing here. Brow furrowing, you look up at him. His expression softens at your obvious confusion, but he is still quite pleased. His subsequent offer is charming, "After dinner, would you like to tour the stables?"

Your whole face transforms as you smile broadly. "I would love that." The wonder in your voice is unmistakable.

"It will be my pleasure, little girl. Now, if you will excuse me, my sister is demanding my presence." He purrs. You follow his line of sight to a woman who looks vastly different from him, but has the same eyes. She arches a brow, just as Diego does, and gestures sharply.

"Of course." You answer softly to no one as he is already strolling away. The loss of his presence makes you feel cold and very alone.

------------------

Dinner is an ordeal. There are several courses, foods you cannot identify, and no less than three spoons. Dessert induces discreet gagging on your part as flan is very… jiggly.

Careful observation is enlightening, you learn that several other guests are Dons of neighboring towns. Their wives accompany them, but you get the distinct impression that the unmarried sisters and daughters are on display. You come to understand that Diego is the only bachelor Don of majority age in a 300 mile radius.

This is a competition that you have no business being anywhere near.

And just how old is he?

You are sipping chocolate next to an archway in the open air courtyard, attempting to ignore the stares, when a dark voice assaults your ear temptingly.

"Are you ready, little girl?" The purring rattle makes your knees shake and your mouth salivate.

"Oh yes please thank you now." Relief palpable, you whip around to find Diego looming over you, the one hand being held out in invitation is now firmly squashed into your generous bosom. His brows climb to his hairline as you clear your throat. "I- yes."

He wiggles his fingers in your cleavage and you take his hand with more force than is strictly necessary. He grins down at you, "Very good, little girl."

You whimper. You cannot help it, the tiniest of noises, soft and high pitched, your lips do not even need to part for him to hear it. Please no, not here in front of all of your peers, you silently beg. Except, his face goes slack and his fingers tighten around yours.

Oh. Do your noises have an effect on him? Is this power that you have? Experimentally, you lick your lips. His gaze drops and his pupils widen as he mimics your movements unconsciously. Oh yes, that curl of power surfaces again in your belly. This you can work to your advantage. You smirk, "Shall we?"

His dark gaze is hungry as he glares at you, displeased with the reversal in the play of power. He growls, "Yes, you shall ride."

You are drug off before you can protest about your attire not being made for such activities. You have a sneaking suspicion that his only suggestion would be to remove it. You are having trouble remembering why that is a bad idea while your hand is tucked into the crook of his massive arm, fingers curled around bulging muscle.

You need to clear your head.

The stables are dim in the evening light and the smell of grain strong. Your only pair of nice shoes clicks on the wooden floor as you pull away from him to look around. Diego releases you but watches closely.

The horse's names are engraved on plaques above the stalls. Your casita does not even have a street address. I do not belong here. Your hands reach out to touch and a large nose appears over the stall door. "Hello," you check the plate, "Dante." Of course this is his horse.

The gray muzzle is soft as velvet and the stallion huffs at you in a blast of air that blows your hair back. The horse darts forward and you realize just how big he is. One step backwards to retreat lands you squarely in the middle of a broad chest.

"I will show you." Diego states simply. He reaches up with both hands on either side of you and takes the halter in his grasp firmly. With a gentle tug, Dante's head comes down and Diego curves over you to touch his forehead to the horse's. "Now you, little girl."

You reach up to take Dante in hand and the stallion rushes to do the same with you. His forelock tickles and you laugh delightedly.

"He likes you." Diego declares.

"How do you know?" Intelligence shines brightly in the animal's eyes and you pet him.

"He bites everyone except me." Diego shrugs.

Oh. You hedge softly, "Maybe he senses that you like me." Diego snorts above you. Snippily, you elaborate, "Beg pardon? Are you often in the habit of asking to court women you do not like?"

"I have never asked to court another woman."

The rumbling admission gives you pause. Those massive hands settle on your hips and squeeze tightly. You continue petting Dante resolutely, determined to remain stoic. The hands slide inward, around your hips to spread wide over your entire abdomen. Everything inside you is aflame. Ever higher, his touch travels until he cups your breasts firmly. There is no give in the steel boned corset and the large man behind you growls in frustration.

"Why would you wear such a thing?" His voice is rough with want, it makes you gasp.

"For p-precisely this situation." Your retort is less bite and more whine. "You must understand that I am not some, some, plaything to be had, available at your beck and call."

His beard scrapes your neck as he leans down into you to whisper, "Are you certain, little girl?"

"I have already been the laughingstock of one community. I refuse to be the joke of another." Your voice shakes with anger. Or perhaps anticipation. It is difficult to tell as he licks your ear.

"Does this feel like play?" He growls as you are pressed to the stall door at your front. His hardened length bites into your lower back and he grinds his hips harshly. Your soft wail startles Dante and he shies away.

"You will ride Dante and then you will ride me. After that, I will have my answer." He sinks teeth into your bared neck. What was the question? Your thoughts have stalled entirely.

"I, I do not know how to. To ride." Rubbing your legs together, you keen quietly. Your center contracts down on nothing angrily and your fingers claw into the wood.

"I am quite certain that I can teach you. After all, you are a quick study." Diego releases you suddenly and your body trembles. He goes about the business of saddling his horse while you continue melting as you watch his muscles work.

Fully tacked and waiting, Dante snorts at you as Diego beckons. His dark eyes dance with mischief, "Come mount, little girl."

You set your shoulders with stubbornness and stomp to him. Motioning to the stirrups you bark, "I am too shor--"

Diego picks you up like a child and you scramble for the saddle. Your skirts get tangled between your legs and crushed underneath you when you sit. The feel of the saddle pressed hard to your core means that you do not care. Every time you shift or Dante moves the leather rubs you pleasantly. There is no escape from the stimulation and you can feel yourself becoming wet. You have no idea how much time has passed while you tried to acclimate to this new development.

"Shit." Your unladylike hiss is deafening in the empty stable.

Diego doubles over in booming laughter and you suddenly remember the source of your current vexation.

"A warning would have been nice." You snap. He looks up at you with tears, his face scrunched up adorably. Your heart stops as you realize how beautiful he truly is.

"How do I warn for something I have never experienced?" He chokes and resumes laughing gleefully. Truly, an overgrown child.

You sigh, but pick up the reins determinedly and look down at him expectantly. Smiling broadly with your taunt, "I await your instruction, Father."

Those brown eyes flash with fire and you wonder briefly if you should be playing with that. He licks his lips but goes on to correct your seating, show you the proper way to utilize the reins, and then leads you out into a small paddock behind the building.

Walking is a noticeable feeling. Trotting is just painful. A canter is delicious torture. The stride is smooth and rocking, your exhilaration is twofold with dual excitement. Dante is responsive and feisty, you enjoy his personality and try not to examine why too closely. Diego intervenes occasionally to make small adjustments but has proclaimed you a natural with great enjoyment.

It is almost dark when he leads you back inside the stable, your face beaming. You struggle to dismount, Diego simply hauls you off and plops you on the ground… Except your legs collapse.

Diego, The absolute cad, uses this opportunity to crush you to his chest and stabilize you by sliding a long leg between your own. The moment the pressure occurs you feel a vast amount of wetness. That cannot be good, you panic and shove away from him, stumbling over to a chest to sit. Your wild hair is a disaster and you hide behind it as you check your layers. Relief washes over you as the outer skirt is dry, only the three inner layers are soaked through.

"What?" You whisper to yourself in confused terror. Is this normal? Do all women have this response? Is there something wrong with me? Am I hurt? A shadow falling over the skirts pulls your attention as Diego kneels in front of you. His smirk eases your fears.

"Do you have a problem, little girl?"

"You knew what would happen." You accuse softly. He does not even attempt to feign innocence.

"Oh, of course." His pleased rumble is accompanied by a toothy grin. Your hand flashes out faster than you can see. The crack of the slap on his cheek is muffled by all of the equipment that lines the walls.

Oh no.

He lurches forward and you shriek. His left hand encircles both of your wrists and he slams them to the wall above your head. The right hand hits your center with considerable force. Your legs jump, but he has the left pinned and his bulk squeezed between.

"I did not me--" He does not let you finish.

"I know what you meant. But do you?" Diego growls. You shake your head, a single tear slipping out. "Oh, but you are wet, are you not?" His fingers locate that pulsing bundle of nerves and he rubs slowly from side to side. Just as you had done in the confessional.

"S-stop. The other p-people, my skirt, it is. P-please do not ruin me like this." You beg as tears drip steadily down your cheeks, eyes squeezed shut. The hand retreats, your skirt rustles as he slips under all of the layers and returns to you. The heat of his hand is like an open flame on your oversensitized center.

"It is simple. Do you want this or no?" The decision is anything but simple. You want it, you want him, even now as he restrains your body and threatens your reputation. Your fear is sharp and sour, you had hoped to start over here. A new home in a new country far from your disgraced status. You miss your mother. She would shake her head over it but tell you to chase happiness. What do I have left to lose?

"Do you truly mean to court me? It is not s-some cover to use me this way?" Why? Why do you have to ask these things? Why am I like this?

His fingers press harder and you writhe. It would not take much to break you, I wonder if he knows?

"I rather enjoy your company. Intelligent, you speak your mind, you respond beautifully, and you took my cock so very well, little girl." His praise is followed by a drastic increase in pressure and you sob your answer with your release.

"Yesss, yes, oh yes, please, yes. Yesyesyes. I want. Ohh, I want you." Your body seizes as you bear down on nothing, the pleasure almost painful. The sobs are cut off by Diego covering your mouth with his. He forces you wide open and licks everything he can reach, all you can do is give in to him. The hair on his face burns and you moan.

He breaks away, pulls you to your feet, and then directly into an empty stall. Your legs falter but the momentum puts you exactly where he wants you.

Which is straddling his lap. What is he-- OHHH. The feel of his straining manhood poking up into you makes everything clear. You brace on his shoulders as his hands dive beneath your dress to rip open the bloomers and then free himself. He is lying back on a bale of hay, your feet are flat on the floor to either side. You know when his pants are down because the heat of him is molten. His fingers stroke over you from bottom to top, you are dripping, then he angles his length and-

"Ahhhhh!" Your shriek is piercing.

"Ohhhh, sí, little girl. So tight for me. Such a grip." He groans and drops his head down limply. You cannot see anything through your layers and he feels enormous.

"Wait, wait, please." You pant and he freezes to look up at you. "I have never, I did not even know you could, in this way. What do I do?" Terrified, you place your trust in this man who tricked you but made you feel so very good.

"Knees. Kneel, here." He hisses and pats next to his waist. You both moan as you shift and wiggle to position yourself. As you settle you bounce a bit, he bites his lip and digs fingers into your thighs. You try it again, the friction of him slipping out of you is good, but when you ease back down, well, you both make noise.

"I, I think I see." You grit out. With the corset on you cannot move your upper body much, but your hips are free. Your eyes close and you let the sensations guide you. Your hips bounce, your rear bounces, faster feels better, if you lean forward onto his chest you can move your pelvis quicker. A hand fists in your hair and he pulls, Oh, that feels good, you open your eyes. He is staring up at you, pupils gigantic, panting harshly.

"You. You are a very, very, good girl." He marvels. You keen and go faster, the praise makes everything feel better. His other hand reaches between you, finding your pleasure again as you shudder above his big body, dropping your weight to impale yourself entirely as you convulse around him.

"Ohh, oh. Yesyesyessssssss." Your whining cries seem to please him, he works you over again and again. You have never experienced anything like this, you are starving for it. He releases your hair to burrow both hands under your skirts and reach around to grasp your rear. You yelp, "What are you--"

He slaps you with intent, you lurch up his chest from the force, then he yanks you back down to be filled decisively. You have not been spanked since you were ten, this is catastrophically better.

"Again!" You demand hoarsely. Diego laughs but repeats the maneuver. You yelp with each slap, then moan every time he fills you.

"Does my bad little girl need punishment?" He rasps into your hair. Nodding deliriously, you claw into his muscled chest, whimpering for more. "Do not fret. Father will take care of you."

"Oh yes, please. Please. Please, Father!" You have lost the last shred of control over your own tongue. Those strapping hands secure your hips and he snaps his own up into you. He hits something deep inside that makes you collapse and he does it repeatedly until you flutter around him weakly and bawl into his ruffled shirt. His movements become stilted as he grunts above your head. A few more vicious thrusts and he groans loudly while holding you fast to his pelvis.

You can feel him emptying into you. This, too, is not new to you but very much more intense than ever before. He is prodigious. That big body goes boneless below you and he sighs contentedly.

"That was far better than dessert." Diego declares.

You snort, then giggle, and the giggles morph into hysterical laughter before you know it. He slips out of your quaking body, it is a distinctly odd feeling, when he joins your mirth. You prop up just enough to see his face, laugh lines frame those deep eyes and he has dimples! This is unfair. The man is a work of art.

You try and fail to sit up.

"I. Um. I cannot seem to stand." The confession is small and self-conscious. You are deeply embarrassed.

"Then do not. It is raining, no one will come out here until it stops." A big hand strokes over your hair and you fight down panic. He breathes deeply, raising you with every inhale. The heartbeat under your cheek is strong and steady, inescapable as a force of nature. Slowly but surely the tension leaves your spine and you drape over him.

"I did not know it could be done that way." You admit. Stroking rhythmically over his arm is soothing.

"Your husband must have been quite unimaginative." His remark is offhand, thoughtless. It stabs into your chest and you remember your situation. You pull back and manage to sit upright this time, he allows it but does not fully release you.

Shaking hands reach up to touch his face. Diego arches a brow but remains still while you trace over his features. Your heart fills with dread but you have to know. Voice unsteady, you clarify, "Did you mean it? You want to court me?"

"I do not say things I do not mean." His eyes bore into you. Diego pinches your chin gently, "I believe you can appreciate that philosophy."

Your eyes slip away as you swallow nervously. "But, you would consider me still married, would you not?"

The soft chuckle catches you unawares, "You are not Catholic. Why would the rules of the church matter to you?" The question is rhetorical, but you have an answer.

"But you are." Turning back, you blink with the burn of tears. This is it, you think, He will agree and then toss you like the trash you are.

"Little girl. I can assure you, the church has written me off as unsalvagable long ago. I ceased adhering to their silly rules well before that. This is a different country with different laws. In fact, the church would not even recognize your marriage as it was done outside the bonds of Catholicism. You worry needlessly." It is obvious that he means to be comforting despite his flippant tone. He has put some thought into this topic.

"Well, in that case." Tracing a thumb over his lower lip, you lean down for a kiss. Diego attacks your mouth ferociously, all teeth and tongue and leveling maelstrom. All you can do is allow the storm to roll over you.

-----------------

It never does stop raining. In fact, lightning and thunder come in off of the ocean. The two of you have to make a mad dash for the main house. His sister intercepts him in the courtyard to yell at him in Spanish until she sees you hovering just inside the shelter of the roof.

"Oh!" She gestures to you in frustration. "I see what you have been doing! Truly, Diego? I mean, look at her!" The dismissive tone hits you like a slap in the face. Locking your jaw, you step forward only to be blocked by Diego’s broad back.

"Do not! She is under my protection!" He roars. His sister steps back in shock. She peers around his bulk to look at you, then back to him.

"Your protection? What does that even mean?" She sounds flabbergasted and insulted by the feeling, at that.

"She has accepted my offer of courtship. You will treat her with the respect that is due." He snarls.

Oh.

No one has ever come to your defense before. Gratitude closes your throat with warmth. She stomps off in frustration only to usher your father through the doorway.

"I knew you were here somewhere. Ah, were you still out in the stables when it began to rain?" Your father smiles fondly at your soggy appearance.

"Uh, yes. Unfortunately." You clear your throat and glance to Diego. His lazy smirk is of no assistance.

"Come. You should get out of those wet clothes." His offer is sweet, but you can hear the unspoken '... And into my bed'.

His sister returns with a towel and a steaming mug of tea. She assesses you with a critical eye before announcing, "We have guest rooms. I would not send you home in this."

You are unsure if she means the storm or your attire; either way, you follow her through the house. She leads you to a spacious bedroom complete with a sleigh bed and water closet. It is pure luxury. She pauses at the door to sniff before leaving you, "Diego's rooms are directly across the hall. I will put your father in the other wing. I know how loud my brother can be."

The sound of the door closing behind her is deafening.

-------------

You wash up, but have nothing clean to wear. Additionally, your seat is throbbing. Touching yourself to bathe was excruciating with actual pain and such intense memory that you are exhausted when you slide under the covers nude. Your only good dress is in a ruined heap on the floor. Just as you should be, a lowly tramp.

A knock sounds and the door opens before you can respond. The source of all your woes strides in confidently and proffers a black garment. Not knowing what else to do, you take it wordlessly while clutching the sheet tight to your chest. It is a shirt, one of his shirts if the scent is any indication, and you assume you are to wear it.

Only he is not leaving.

Diego watches you with hungry eyes, waiting for the sheet to drop and reveal your naked body. An absolute cad.

"Is there any chance at all that I could at least have the illusion of privacy?" You ask dryly.

"Fine." He huffs and spins in place. Then stands there, waiting. Resigned, you whip the large shirt over your head as quickly as possible, then pull the sheet back up over your legs. The shirt tails fall just lower than your buttocks, you suppose everything important is covered.

"All right, I am dece--" He is climbing into the bed with you. Oh my. You squeak quietly, "What are you doing?!?"

Lying down next to you on top of the covers, he smiles at you and holds the arm closest to you wide open in invitation. He is well aware of how good he looks. How tempting.

"Come. You must be cold." It isn't exactly an order, but it is firmer than a request. It is the tone of a man used to issuing commands and never doubting that they will be obeyed. Oh, what the hell, he was inside me not less than two hours ago.

You crawl over the silky sheets and let him tuck you into his side. You are at a loss as to what to do with your hands.

"This, too, is a first for me." You admit haltingly.

"Was your husband demented?" The matter-of-fact tone sends you into a fit. You bury your face in his side to muffle your tired laughter. "Why do you do that?" Diego asks softly.

"Do, oh goodness, do what?" You chortle softly then compose yourself as best you can with no pants.

"Hide your mirth. Cover your laugh. Turn away when you smile." He is looking down at you in serious consternation. And awaiting an answer.

"It is considered rude for a woman to be loud with any emotion where I am from." The quiet explanation only serves to confuse him more.

"That seems tiring. You most definitely have feelings. Why are you forbidden to express them?" It is such a foreign concept to him, he is puzzled. You lay a hand on his chest cautiously. He does not flinch.

"I cannot say. I know that my mother raised her girls to be subdued and accommodating. I, of course, was a failure. My laugh is too loud, my voice too strong, my desires too ambitious. My own grandparents were shocked when I was married off. They assumed no man would tolerate me." I wish that man had ceased tolerating me sooner.

The hand on your back circles idly. It is lulling you to sleep.

"I forbid you to hide from me." He declares in complete seriousness. You are too tired to bother arguing.

"Fine. May you live to regret it." The last thing you know is his scent filling you to bursting.

------------------

You wake up on your back. Odd.

Your legs are spread. Very odd.

Luscious wet heat is washing over your aching center in waves. Oh no.

You come to full awareness in a panic. There, between your spread legs in the growing sunlight, is Diego's head, nodding rhythmically as he licks you.

Frozen in shock, you can only watch for a timeless moment as he laves over your womanhood leisurely. Long, decadent laps from bottom to top and then over again. You feel wetness dripping down between your cheeks, there is a sticky puddle under your behind. How long has he been down there?

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" You shriek. Lurching upward, you hit the headboard. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, strong as cable, and you fully understand your predicament. You are trapped.

"Mmmm. Is it not obvious?" The vibration of his rocky voice on your most sensitive parts is going to make you swoon. He resumes enjoying you noisily while you flail about uselessly. The sounds are obscene and offensive, you can feel yourself growing wetter. He moans appreciatively, "Yes, little girl. Soak my beard with your arousal."

You tremble in excitement and fear. If you are caught with him in here like this…

"Come for me and I will fill this pretty little cunt." He rumbles on, poking his tongue inside your entrance then gliding upward to stimulate your little nub of pleasure. You are going to, you can feel it building inexorably. There is no escape from his soft tongue, scratchy beard, and burning hands.

Your hands dig in the bedclothes as you keep in mind his decree. It is a struggle not to cover your mouth, but you are rather distracted. Your back arches steadily higher and you sink down onto his face. He moans happily and applies more pressure yet.

"Oh, oh my, you. You are. What is. I, I, please, oh please, do not stop." Almost. You are teetering on the edge of insanity when he pulls back. Nononononononono!

"Come for me, niñita. Come for Father." He attacks the bundle of nerves and you shriek as your body seizes. The contractions of ecstasy blind you momentarily while you sob blissfully. Your core clenches tight, shutting down your worrisome brain. He never ceases his licking, drawing it out until your legs twitch spastically and you push at his head weakly.

He sits up and licks his lips ostentatiously. It is a show for your bleary gaze. You notice his shirt is gone. The wide expanse of his body is bare to you for the first time. Oh. OH.

His shoulders and chest are well defined, muscles bunching and rippling on that broad frame. His torso is solid, his hips lightly cut out from his belly, and that thatch of hair begins at navel. You have never seen such a perfect specimen of malehood.

You must be gawking because he preens happily, puffing up under your favorable assessment. Surely he knows how he looks? His beard glistens in the warm light and you whimper.

"Now, roll over." Excuse me? His eyes crinkle in amusement at your confusion.

"What?" You blurt. Very sophisticated.

Big hands land on your hips and he urges you to turn to your left. Memories of every other time he has positioned you and the subsequent pleasure make you follow his lead. Flat on your belly, the borrowed shirt pushed high up your back, you squirm under him.

"What are you doing?" The question is quiet, but fearful. He strokes up your back firmly and you melt under his touch. His hands span your entire back and you rather like the feeling of being covered in him. He moves down your back to grip great handfuls of your rear. You squeak, but it feels so very good after the saddle yesterday. He growls approvingly as you arch into his touch.

"Yes, raise your hips to me. Now spread, there you go, relax here, there. Perfect." He manipulates your body to his liking until your hips are high in the air, your back sunk low, and your shoulders remaining on the bed. The narrow pelvis nestles up to your buttocks as his knees land between your own. A draft flits over your center and you suddenly comprehend what he intends to do. He is going to take you from behind, like an animal.

Are you insulted? I will reserve judgment until he finishes, no need to be hasty. You chastise your own impatience. Have you no shame?

He certainly does not.

"You are trying to be so good for me. Wicked little girl, dripping for my cock." He purrs above you, hands petting your derriere. You shake and squeeze hungrily. "I can see that." He moans.

Painfully embarrassed, you hide your face in the pillow without thought.

"Ah, ah! Bad girl!" He reprimands you roughly and slaps your right cheek. You yelp, he laughs lowly. Curving over your back, the heat radiating off of him is suffocating, he threads fingers into your hair and pulls until your head is tilted far back. He informs you ever so graciously, "I will help you behave."

"Oh, I, I am sorry, please." You babble, mindless with the pleasure of his hands on you.

"Yes, so repentant, I remember. You are very good at atonement, little girl. Now take this sacrament." He groans as he pushes into you. So thick, hot as fire, you twitch madly until the wide head is swallowed by your body. He does not stop, sinking into you for what feels like forever, until you feel the tickle of his hair. You worry he might come up your throat.

Rippling around him illuminates that you are stretched to the limit. He tugs your hair sharply and moans, "Are you taunting me purposefully?"

"I, no? Not, n-not taunting." You wheeze. He grinds deep and you see stars while your eyes are open. "Is that, it, not n-normal?"

He holds very still and demands quietly, "Do it again." You squeeze tight, he chokes above you, "You, Dios mios, you are doing that yourself?"

"I- yes? Sh-should I not be able to do, that?" Your question is baffled, Am I abnormal?

"Oh, little girl. Perfect, tight, wet, little, girl. Give yourself to me." He drapes his big body over you and turns your face to the side to receive a demanding kiss. He pulls back only to thrust home forcefully and you squawk into his mouth. The retreat makes you whine and clutch at him, when he slams forward you howl with how good it feels. Each thrust hits deep, it hurts and pleases you simultaneously, you cannot fathom what is happening. You clutch the pillow and sob happily.

Diego bucks into you at a breakneck pace, the bed creaks and you nod for more. You are stuffed full, unbelievably wet, and out of your mind with bliss. You want more, is that allowed?

"H-harder. Can you. Do more?" You stutter tentatively, afraid of offending him.

"Oh, yes, you sinful little creature. Take it, take it, take it." He growls in a rolling chant, snapping his hips harder. Your eyes roll back and you shudder through another climax, then a second, and a third, all one after another. You collapse limply, uncaring of his rough usage of you at this point. He bucks frantically, pumping deep to reach release.

"Oh, ahhhhh, yesss. Good girl. Good. Girl." He moans raggedly, filling you yet again. You did not realize men could do it so many times and so frequently. He pulls back and drops to the bed at your side. One large arm loops under your pelvis and he topples you over to crash against him. "Take a nap, little girl. You have earned it."

Your angry retort is cut off by a huge yawn. He strokes down your side endlessly, it does the trick and you drift off.

-----------

When you wake up again it is midmorning. You stretch happily in the sunlight, until your hips protest. Everything from navel to knee is sore. You sit up in a huff, wincing, only to realize that you are alone.

There is a plain skirt and very nice leather belt on the dresser, it is embroidered with a beaded pattern in green, yellow, and blue. The skirt is a little long, but you are rather short. Combined with his billowing shirt, you look like a child playing dress up. Your dress is gone, so this will have to do.

A servant leads you to the kitchens, she smiles broadly and points to your hair with a tiny voice, "Bonita."

"Thank you." You nod, unsure how to respond. Your father is at a large butcher block table, socializing easily with a young mother and her toddler despite the language barrier.

"Good morning. I apologize for sleeping so late, I must have been more tired than I realized." You announce your presence as casually as possible.

Diego's sister breezes into the room and announces that the carriage is ready whenever you are. The barb does not go unnoticed. You thank her sweetly for the hospitality as she herds you outside and sees you off as quickly as possible.

You wonder if Diego even knows you are leaving.

I still do not know why he pretended to be a priest.

#damnit diego #ok but this time its literal #starz power diego jimenez #diego imagine au 1 #maurice compte #zash writes #dick with side of feels #i would apologize but im not sorry #how dare you sir #anybody else remember the 90s tv zorro show?#because apparently i do

38 notes · View notes

thespamman24 · 3 years

Text

Some people say that brevity is the soul of wit, but to that I say:

You are wrong, you are extremely wrong, you’re so wrong if you were any more wrong the universe would explode with how wrong you are, I have never seen someone be any more wrong in my entire life. If I had a nickel for how wrong this was I would have an infinite amount of nickels because the wrongness of that extraordinary dumb statement is inifnite. I have spent over 16 years on this hellscape of a planet, and in all of that time I have not once heard something, so wrong, so dumb, so extremely removed from reality. The wrongness of the statement that you have said is at such an extreme level it boggles the mind. You’re so wrong I don’t even know what to do. That statement that you have just said, literally every single letter of every single word in it is wrong. And I used the word literally correctly. That is because I am a person who is correct as opposed to you, a person who is wrong. Capital W-R-O-N-M-J wrong. I mean, I didn’t even know a person could be that wrong. Like 100% of what you just said is wrong. Like, I mean for someone to think that is right, that must mean that they have an IQ below zero. You have an IQ below zero. Because you have said this dumb-ass, idiotic, rediculouse, insane, idiotic, putrid, idiotic, rediculouse, idiotic, idiotic, WRO-ONG, statement. I mean like, what is in your brain? Is it just a bunch of lukewarm water that just sloshes around? Is that what goes on in your brain? Is it just slosh, slosh, slosh, slosh, slosh all day? Just a bunch of lukewarm going sloshity, sloshity, slosh. I mean like, that’s the only logical explanation because what you have said is so goddamn wrong! I mean, like what school did you go to? The Isaac Newton school of being WRONG! Because you are so wrong! I mean, do you even have thoughts?!!?!?!? Or is it just the lukewarm water in your brain going spilishity slapishity sploshity all day long? HUUUUUUUUUuuuuUUUUHHHhhhhhHHH?????? You disgust me, you know that. Because you’re just sto wrong. You know, wrongness doesn’t usually actually piss me off. But this, but this, but this, but this, oh boy, oh boy, old buddy, old boy, does this piss me off! This pisses me right the f*** off!!!!!!!! You are just so gosh dam wrong!!!! What you have said is astronomically wrong! The wrongness of it is off the charts! Off the chains! Over 9000! Numbers can not calculate how wrong you are, there are no words in the english language which I can use to articulate, how wrong you are! I mean just the pure rotten, rotten, festid, rotten wrongness if the claim that you have just made to me- is disgusting. Just disgusting. I hope you die in a hole, you dumb little dumb little big dumb wrong slut!!!!!!! You are so wrong, that just reading that claim that you have just made makes my brain hurt. My brain cells are slowly dying one by one. You have killed them!! Killed them!!!! WIth your filthy, putrid wrongness!!!!! You sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, wrong bastard of a wrong person. Your wrongness has given me a migraine and I don’t think that it’ll ever end, I think I’ve been cursed, cursed to forever bear the shame of your wrongness, because you are just so wrong!!!!!!!!!!!!! I mean, I don’t think the human brain can even fathom how wrong you are. Maybe, your statement is just so wrong, that the human brain can’t even comprehend. Maybe it’s one of those things, like infinity, or quantum physics, or the plot of Lost, where our brains just can;t understand it because it’s just so fucking wrooooooooooooooooooooooooonnnnnnnggggggggggggggggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WRONG! SO FCKING WROOOOOOONGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!

god, oh god, oh god why, why must you do this to me, you- you’ve hurt me. I can’t stand it any more… just this… this… wrong… it’s just so wrong… so wrong… so wrong. How can you be so stupid. Your statement is dumb, your logic is dumb, your reasoning is dumb. I hope you never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever give birth!!!!! I… I don’t think I… I even want to live anymore… how can I even exist… on a planet where such wrongness… also exists...how, how, how, how, HHHHHHOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!! WHY OH WHY GOD WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE WRONG!!!! YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!!!!! WRONG!!!!!!! YOU WILL, AND ALWAYS SHALL BE SO, FRICKING WRONG!!!!!!!! Your wrongness, the magnitude of it, it, it, it just astounds me. Nothing, anybody ever says, will be so WRONG AS THE WORDS THAT YOU HAVE SAID TO ME!!!!!!!! YOU DUMB LITTLE POOR EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING!!!!!!!!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!! I DON’T LIKE YOU!!!!!!!!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!! I’M NOT INVITING YOU TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU’LL NEVER HAVE ANY PIECES OF MY BIRTHDAY CAKE!!!!!!!!!!!! IT’S MINE! ALLLLL MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MWA, HA, HA,HA,HA,HA,Ha,Ha…. Ha… ha… ha… ha… ha. Oooohhh… woe is me. For I have been cursed with this wrongness. You know Shakespeare once said, “When we are born we weep, for we have come to this great world of fools.” You know, Shakespeare, he was gay, but he was also right… and today… I weep… I weep a thousand tears for this wrongness that has befell my eyes and blinded them, oh god I wish I could stick a hand into my brain and remove this filth and pestilence that infects it like a disease. Your words poison the air they are spoken into!!!!!!!!! The pits of hell themselves don’t even know such agony as the pits of despair I am currently drowning in!!!!!!!! I hope to never see the sunlight again, because if I do it would give me a sunburn! I hope aliens never see what you have just written because if they do, will, then they would, they would they would burn our planet to the crisp and then salt the earth so that nothing ever, ever, ever, ever grows again and then they incinerate our planet to the core!!!! And then they would flush it down a toilet that is big enough to fit the earth in!!!!!! You are wrong… so wrong. You are in fact, one hundred percent wrong. It honestly makes me sick. Just how wrong you are. I could on and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on about how gosh damn wrong you are but I won’t because it would take a thousand lifetimes to do so and I need to feed my cat!!! DO YOU HEAR ME!!!!!!!!! MY CAT!!!!!!!!!! SHE IS A GOOD, GOOD,GOOD, KITTY AND SHE IS SMARTER THAN YOU CAN EVER HOPE TO BE!!!!!!!! BECAUSE EVEN SHE, AGREES WITH ME THAT YOU ARE WRONG HELL, EVEN A POTATOE CAN SEE WHY YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!!!!!! EVEN A POTATOE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A POPTATO, A POTATO, A POTATO, A POTATO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE DUMBER THAN A POTATO, BECAUSE YOU ARE SO, SO,SO,SO,SO,SO,SO,SO, FUCKING WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!! WRONG!!!!!!!!!! WRONG!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!! INCORRECT!!!!!!!!!! UNTRUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MISTAKES!!!!!!!!!! ERRONEOUS!!!!!!!!!! UNTRUE!!!!!!!!!!! INACCURATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! INVALID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FALLICIOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!! FALSE!!!!!!!! WIDE OF THE MARK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … my life is but a nightmare. A dream which I can not wake up from. I am trapped, trapped in this prison known as the universe, a prison of which I can not escape, my memories are like chains binding me down, preventing me from, moving, from running, from trying to break free!!!!!!! All I can do is scream at the top of my lungs about how wrong you are… but I won’t because I’ve already done that and my voice is very tired and I don’t want to get laryngitis, because herbal tea is surprisingly expensive… I think I’ll go feed my cat now.

1 note · View note

dovechim · 6 years

Text

the singularity theory 03 (m)

➾ 11.5k yoongi x reader ft taehyung

➾ the singularity theory posits that privilege of anonymity, combined with the element of restricted physical contact, has the ability to foster an emotional intimacy between two strangers that is genuine and non-forced.

➾ summary: in your last year of undergrad, you find out what a gloryhole is at the expense of your final year thesis. it’s a classic example of a psychology experiment that went way, way wrong.

but how were you to know that a certain min yoongi would be sticking his dick into your life?

➾ warnings: gloryhole use, degradation, blowjob, impreg kink, mentions of cumplay

➾ a/n: happy new years!! after what feels like a million years, it’s finally here. i struggled a lot while writing this, and i am so so so relieved to finally wrap it up. thank you for waiting so patiently, and i hope you enjoy!! love, addie

01 | 02 | 03 (complete)

Literature Review

This project was named after the astronomical phenomenon of a gravitational singularity, a one-dimensional point in the centre of a black hole that contains an infinitely huge mass in an infinitely small space. Here, gravity and density become infinite, and space time curves indefinitely. It is also commonly referred to the point where all laws of physics cease to operate. When an object falls into a black hole and approaches the singularity, it is presumed to disappear completely and irrevocably. However, from an observer’s point of view, the object appears to merely approach the black hole with an ever decreasing speed, never actually disappearing inside.

The author believes that there are significant similarities between this astrological theory and the experiment. The conditions of anonymity and restricted physical contact seek to mimic the attractive forces of the black hole’s irresistible gravitational pull that ultimately culminates in a single point of no return; a point where the forces that govern typical societal interactions break down and cease to exist entirely. It is also the author’s belief that anonymity acts as a vacuum space where private information can be disclosed without fear of shame or judgement.

There is a dick in front of you. It is Mr Cheetos’s dick.

Strangely enough, it doesn’t look as much like a Cheeto as you remembered. His voice sounds far away, as if you’re hearing it underwater, and a kind of fascination grips you as you reach your hand out to touch it. Ignoring your notes on the table and switching off the voice recorder.

The dick that presents itself through the gloryhole in front of you is dripping with precum, and before it can hit the floor, you curiously stretch out your tongue to catch one of the drops. It is salty on your tongue, not altogether bad. You bring your tongue closer to the tip, and as if he can feel your breath on him, Mr Cheetos shoves his dick further into the gloryhole, and you can feel your core ache when you imagine how he must look like on the other side; balls pressed against the wall in desperation, straining to get every inch of his length through the hole for you.

You let your tongue lap at the tip; the man on the other side rewards you with a guttural groan. He is hot and silky on your tongue, and you circle it around him a few times before letting it come to rest just below his tip, curling your tongue around him as he leaks more precum onto your tastebuds.

Mr Cheetos thrusts once, a futile gesture because he is already at his limit, thighs pressed against the wall. You control how deep he goes, and the realisation of it thrills you when you slide your tongue forward just a tad, and he groans. Closing your mouth around him, you placate him with a few sucks, swallowing down the taste of him.

“Stop,” he chokes out suddenly. He withdraws his cock slightly from the hole, as if he is gripping his base on the other side. “Gonna make me cum.”

The room is hazy, all you can see is the hard cock in front of you, and you inch forward on your knees to coax him back into your mouth. “Then cum. On my face.”

A choked whisper on the other side, followed by a few curses. It sounds like Yoongi is struggling to keep his composure- wait, did you just say Yoongi? Your addled brain backtracks a few steps only to find your memory completely hazy. This is Mr Cheetos, you remind yourself. Mr Cheetos needs a servicing before you can proceed with the experiment, and Yoongi-

“Want your pussy, please,” the voice comes again, begging, pleading. “Turn around and slide yourself on my cock. Please.”

His cock is dripping again. A random thought crosses your mind; you can’t let the floor be stained with anything, or else people are going to find out about this. You get to your feet slowly, eyes trained on his cock and that drop of precum that is dangerously about to fall, hiking your skirt up, and-

The wet, blunt head of his cock brushes your folds, and you feel him drip down your inner thigh. Smiling to yourself in triumph, you spread your thighs and take him in your hand, rubbing your clit a few times before you guide him back to where he needs to be; to where he belongs. He sinks inside of you deep when you push back onto the gloryhole, and this time you swear as if you can feel the rumble of his chest through the thin wall when he moans.

Your ass is flush against the wall as he begins to thrust shallowly. The stretch feels good, better than your small fingers.

“Fuck yourself on my cock.”

He stops moving, his cock is buried deep in your pussy. You obey him, beginning to work your hips as you scramble for the table in front of you to help you keep your balance, sinking all the way down to the base of his cock every time. You can already feel the wall that separates you and him getting wet and sloppy with your combined juices. Reaching down for your clit, you tighten around him immediately, fingers pinching and stroking.

“Let me hear you. That’s it, let me hear you as I imagine what you look like fucking yourself on my cock. You’ll let me cum inside you right? You’ll let any random stranger like me cream your pretty pussy through a gloryhole. I want you to show me your pussy after I fill it with cum.” The voice on the other side is getting slightly breathless now, and you can feel him starting to take control with his thrusts now.

You push your ass back against the gloryhole so that he can go as hard as he wants and needs.

“Answer me. Are you just a cumslut who wants men to fuck her through gloryholes and cum inside? You love it, don’t you. Random men fucking you full of cum. Even better if they knock you up.”

“N-no… just…” Your voice sounds small and fragmented to your own ears. Your vision is going hazy. Everything in the room is a blur, everything is spinning. But the one thing that remains clear is his voice.

“No? Don’t lie to me.”

“I-just want your cum. Just yours, please.”

“Whose cum do you want? Say my name. Say it as I cum inside your pretty pussy and make it mine.”

He is going so hard now that you can feel every thrust smack your ass, his balls are hitting the gloryhole, and you wish it was hitting your ass instead.

“I’m gonna cum. Fuck, oh please, right there,” you beg him to keep going, feeling your thighs tremble and your walls start to quiver around him.

“Say my name and I’ll let you cum like a good girl.”

“Mr Ch- Mr- oh fuck, I’m coming, Yoongi, I want your cum!”

The man on the other side responds with a pleased chuckle that you can feel radiating all the way up your spine as he gives you a few sloppy thrusts before he groans, burying his cock deep as he-

Warmth seeps through your panties, and you gasp, eyes flying open.

Suddenly, the world presents itself to you in 1080p quality as you are met with the view of your ceiling. Drenched in sweat, you sit up gingerly only to grimace when you feel the stickiness of your panties.

God fucking dammit, did you seriously just have a wet dream? At this age?

The last thing you remember from last night was… working on your paper. You must have fallen asleep and migrated to your bed at some point. When you glance towards your work desk, the tell-tale signs of an all-nighter are there, alright; opened bags of chips, half empty coffee cups and your laptop still open.

Pushing your covers aside, you grumble to yourself as you hurry to clean yourself up, only to stop dead in your tracks when flashbacks of your dream come back to you in bits and pieces. And more importantly, the name that left your lips-

This cannot be happening.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. It was just a dream. Just a stupid old dream.

But dreams originate from the sub-conscious. Dreams represent the id, the repressed sexual and primal urges that are locked away and hidden from society because they are unacceptable. Having a sexual fantasy is completely normal, but more worrying is who it was about.

You press a hand to your temple as the thoughts race against each other. Sometimes, you think that pursuing this degree is a mistake because you tend to psychoanalyse yourself in a manner that is all too unhealthy.

Splashing some cold water on your face, you brush your teeth quickly and tie your hair back. When you feel significantly more human again, you dig for your phone in the mess that is your bed only to realise that you’d somehow slept through all four of your alarms- and that you’re currently 10 minutes late for your last ever session.

“Fucking hell,” you swear under your breath as you gather your materials and fly out the door.

This is ridiculous. Just fucking ridiculous.

Yoongi never runs. Yet today, he dragged himself out of bed at five in the morning just to make sure he was out of the room before Jimin was up. Jimin likes to get in his morning workouts before 7am sharp, and he is a notoriously light sleeper.

But now, run completed, drenched in sweat and feeling gross all over, Yoongi has yet to come up with a plausible excuse to get him out of his session today. The last ever session for the month, and granted, he has no actual reason to wriggle out of it. It’s just, a part of him isn’t ready for it to be over.

He should have savoured the past few days more. That sweet period of limbo where everything is possible and yet, nothing is set in stone. All weekend long that fucking lemon yellow polish had been haunting him, mocking him even. Yoongi had been oscillating between writing it off as a mere coincidence and something else; something much larger and beyond his wildest dreams. He hadn’t dared to even think it aloud for fear of unleashing a never ending stream of self-criticism.

Deciding to bite the bullet and just say whatever comes to mind, Yoongi pushes the door open, catching Jimin in the midst of pulling a shirt on.

“Hey man. Where’ve you been- wait, you don’t look so good, you doing alright?” Jimin narrows his eyes as he closes the distance between them, tugging his shirt down as he surveys Yoongi’s flushed face.

Yoongi’s just about to grumble a retort- something about still being fit enough to kick Jimin’s ass out on the track- when he stops himself. At least that run had cleared his mind up a little for him to see that Jimin is offering him an easy way out. “Um, actually I’m not feeling too good.”

“What’s wrong?” He immediately comes over to put a hand on Yoongi’s forehead. “You’ve been off ever since our game last week. If you were coming down with something, it’d be over by now.” Jimin worries his plush bottom lip as he draws his hand away. “No temperature. Were you working out? You should take it easy man.”

“Yeah, I just…” Yoongi’s voice trails off. He’s never been good at lying, especially not to Jimin’s face. As obnoxious as his roommate is sometimes, when Jimin is worried, he is the epitome of a mother hen. So he decides to keep it simple. “Your snoring kept me up last night.”

Jimin’s eyes widen in mock hurt. “Dude, what? I do not snore!!”

“That’s exactly what someone who snores all night long would say,” Yoongi says as he reaches for a towel and some spare clothes. “I’m gonna take a shower and go back to bed. Hopefully without your loud ass.”

Jimin just grumbles under his breath, still protesting as he fumbles around his room to get ready for his morning class. But suddenly, he stops in his tracks as he finds his phone. “Wait, that last session with- your last session is today. Do you want me to cancel it?”

“Could you?” Yoongi casts a glance back at Jimin for just a second, all the better to fool him into thinking that this is no big deal, as if he hadn’t been ruminating on ways to worm his way out of this experiment for the past few days. “I mean, if it’s too much trouble to reschedule, then…”

“It’s fine, I got it,” Jimin mumbles with his arms full of books as he texts with one hand. “I’m sure _- um, she won’t mind.”

Yoongi’s ears perk up at the sound of Jimin’s hasty cover up- he was sure that he accidentally almost name dropped there. When he glances over at his roommate, Jimin is avoiding all eye contact as he puts his phone away and ruffles his hair like he always does when he’s flustered or nervous. He decides to probe a little.

“Speaking of… her,” Yoongi begins. “It’s her final year project right? Why’s she not doing it in a group like you are?”

“Because she’s stubborn as always,” Jimin chuckles under his breath, pausing to slap on a little moisturizer on his face. “She thinks she’s really on to something with her thesis, though she won’t let anyone read it. Not even me, her best friend! Can you believe it?” He turns around, a glob of cream still on his nose, with an indignant expression. “She literally just told me like 10% of it. Said it was all I needed to know.”

Best friend? Hmm, now he’s getting somewhere. Trying his best to keep his voice casual, Yoongi asks, “do I know this person?”

Once again, Jimin immediately stiffens up. It’s painfully obvious in his posture that he realises he’s treading on dangerous territory now. Jimin turns back to the mirror and slowly, deliberately spreads the cream onto his skin, avoiding Yoongi’s eyes in the mirror. “Yoongi, you know I can’t tell you that. It’d ruin the sanctity of her experiment. She told you that you can’t have any contact with her outside of that room, right?”

Yoongi sighs internally. At least he tried. He’s just about to turn to head for the showers when Jimin speaks again.

“Why do you wanna know who she is? Did something happen in those sessions?” He asks cautiously, as if he is treading on broken glass. Yoongi can hear from the tone in Jimin’s voice that he’s pretending to play it off casually. “Damn, you really gotta get laid soon.”

At least Jimin gave him a way out again, even if he did it unknowingly. Purposely avoiding the first part of his question, Yoongi shrugs. “I did just get laid. Remember? That girl from your party. After our game. _____. I thought I told you. That little seven minutes in heaven stunt that you pulled?”

At the sound of your name, Jimin visibly pales. “Wh- Who? Who did you hook up with?”

“Did I get her name wrong?” Yoongi muses, searching his memory. He’d only heard it once, and he doubts he could have remembered it wrongly. “_____. She was at your party last week. Dude, you asked me to kiss her in that stupid truth or dare game!”

Jimin’s eyes slide left and right, avoiding all eye contact as his lips press into a firm line. “Did I? I was really drunk. Maybe I just don’t remember.”

Suspicion sinks into the pit of Yoongi’s stomach and drags him down, threatening to swallow him whole. He clenches his fist around his towel. Jimin’s reaction only further serves his theory that… no. It can’t be. He’s simply reading too much into things. “Yeah, you were pretty drunk there.”

Yoongi desperately needs to escape somewhere else and think about all of this stupid, stupid coincidences, the little things that are adding up here and there. He leaves Jimin still standing in their room and hightails it to the showers, forcing the memory of your lips, your kisses, and most hauntingly, your fingers, out of his mind.

“Rough morning?” When you arrive, Mr Gucci is already seated on the other side, obscured by the glory- by Mr Cheetos’s experimental setup. You forgot to reset it after your last session with him, so you reach for the panel and remove it, forcing aside unholy thoughts.

“Definitely a rough morning,” Mr Gucci nods to himself when he sees your unkempt hair, spectacles askew on your face and currently sporting your baggiest hoodie. He, on the other hand, while also dressed comfortably in a baggy shirt, pulls it off with a grace and effortlessness that you can only dream of.

“I’m sorry, did you wait long?” You hurry to get your notes in order, and more importantly, catch your breath and try to regain your composure. You’re sorry that the last session with Mr Gucci has to end this way, even more sorry that he has to see this side of you that should never be revealed to the world. “Just give me a minute to get this set up- you can start with three impressions first if you like. Last week’s were ambitious, pretty and fresh.”

“Sure,” Mr Gucci bobs his head. “Ambitious, pretty, but not-so-fresh.”

You can’t help but laugh as you make a note of this. “Guess I set myself up for that one huh?”

Mr Gucci leans forward on his elbows, intrigued. “Tell me something, Ms Prada. Do all girls have magic powers like you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, no offense,” he holds his hands up. “I’m just incredibly impressed at how different you look. I mean, from how you usually look like. I assume you overslept today and didn’t have time to get to the regular routine, but…”

“Let me ruin your fantasy for you,” you cut him off. “This is what girls wake up looking like. None of that hashtag woke up like this bullshit. You don’t have any sisters, do you?”

“None,” he confirms. “Wait, but please don’t get me wrong! I didn’t mean it in an insulting way. I’m just amazed at how much effort it takes, and that deserves incredible respect.”

Mr Gucci seems worried over having potentially offended you, but the joke he made about not being so fresh tells you that you’re at least getting somewhere with him. Complete strangers wouldn’t mention it at all, though he is still clearly treading carefully to some extent. You’re not offended at all, and you convey this with a genuine smile. “You wouldn’t believe the effort it takes to get from this- a zero to a passable six. In fact, I’m sorry you have to see this at all.”

Mr Gucci’s eyes widen. “A six? That’s the best you give yourself? You’re clearly a nine, at least!”

His sincerity really touches you as you thank him with a smile.

“Honestly, women’s beauty standards are just bullshit,” he shakes his head sadly. “If I had a superpower, I’d completely erase all the beauty standards in the world.”

“Wow, that’s interesting,” you muse while jotting down a few notes. Mr Gucci had just answered one of your potential questions on his own, and this is definitely progress. It’s far from a simple answer you expect from him, reveals something that he’s passionate about. “Usually when people talk about superpowers, they want to go back in time, fly, talk to animals, that kind of thing.”

“Hey, how’d you know? Talking to animals is my second choice,” he grins. “But yeah. I was taking a sociology mod last semester for my elective and it really got me thinking about issues like these. And how I wish it could be solved with a snap of my fingers. Just like that.”

“That’s it, I’m voting you for president,” you grin back at him. “Think of it. You’ll be a better version of Thanos. Just one snap.”

Mr Gucci bursts out in laughter at your joke, clapping his hands several times, and you really feel as if you’re making a connection here. While it did come only in the last session, there’s no doubt that there are the beginnings of something stirring here.

The timer on your desk rings, signalling the end of your session.

“So, Mr Gucci, this marks the end of our month together. Before we end, I just wanted to thank you for participating,” you put your notes aside to smile at him, sincerely regretting that you won’t be able to meet him outside of this room. He definitely seems like good company.

“Thank you for having me, and I must say, it was a new experience,” Mr Gucci says. “I didn’t know what to expect coming into this, and I think I got a lot more out of it than just extra credit.”

“That’s good to hear. Okay, for the last time ever, three impressions?”

“Friendly, cool and my type.”

After Mr Gucci is safely out the door, you reach for your phone’s camera mode to at least try and fix your hair a little before Mr Cheetos is due. Not that it would matter now, since he won’t be seeing you at all, but you feel just a tad ratty and unkempt like this.

You notice that you have a few messages from Jimin asking you if it’s possible to reschedule Mr Cheetos’s session since he’s feeling unwell. That’s strange. Such a last minute request makes things seem urgent, and you can’t help but feel your stomach flip over in worry. You press the call icon and place the phone to your ear.

“Hey- yeah, what’s up?” Jimin’s voice answers.

“Chim, I just wanted to ask if Mr- if he’s okay. I mean, it’s not anything urgent right?”

“Oh no no,” Jimin’s reply comes immediately. “He’s just feeling a little under the weather. Said he needs to rest up today. I’ll ask him when he’s free to reschedule again, then get back to you on that. Sound good?”

“Um, yeah. Sure.” Jimin’s reply leaves a lot to be desired, you find yourself craving for more details about Mr Cheetos. Instead your best friend leaves you frustrated yet unable to ask any more questions, and you curse silently. “Wait! Um, I think I should like maybe get him something. You know, like soup or um, lozenges?”

You cringe at the sound of your own voice. Immediately you wish you’d just let Jimin hang up, and you can go straight back to your room and back to bed. What if Jimin gets suspicious? What if he demands to know why you suddenly care about Mr Cheetos so much? Suddenly feeling a need to justify your actions, you clear your throat. “Because, um I was kinda sick the last time and I feel bad that I might have passed my cold to him. You know?”

Jimin’s chuckle comes from the other side of the line, and you almost heave a sigh of relief.

You’re just being paranoid. Calm the fuck down or you’ll give yourself away, you mutter to yourself.

“Why, what’d you two do in that tiny little room, hmmm?” Jimin’s innocent joke sends your blood pressure sky rocketing again, and this time you can literally feel a bead of sweat make its way down your forehead like in those cartoons, except there is nothing funny about this. “A little spit swapping? Mouth to mouth?”

“We didn’t do anything!” You exclaim in a panic, which you try to cover up with a nervous laugh. “What would we be doing other than the experiment?”

“Geez, you nearly took my eardrums out,” Jimin whines on the end of the line. “Fine, just drop by my room and leave it at the door or something. I’ll pass it to him and say it’s from you.”

More than relieved that he dropped the subject so quickly, you shoot him a quick word of thanks before cutting the line, gathering up your things as you exit the room and head for the cafeteria.

You’re not really sure what to get for a sick person; you’ve never had to take care of one before. Jimin’s the only friend who’d warrant this kind of treatment, and yet you’ve never brought him food or anything like this before. Scanning over the options quickly, you decide on a good old chicken noodle soup and place your order.

With a warm container clasped close to your chest, you send a few texts to Jimin just to let him know that you’re on the way as you ascend the stairs to his room. He replies back that he isn’t in at the moment, and you don’t want the soup to get cold outside, or even possibly getting stolen, so you decide to knock on the door to get his roommate.

It’s not till the door opens that you belatedly remember who Jimin’s roommate is… too little too late as you come face to face with Min Yoongi, whom you haven’t seen since that night.

He looks sleepy, hair tousled as if he just got out of bed, in a half yawn as he peeks his head out. You can’t help but notice his attire of a thin shirt and boxers, but then you remind your eyes to stay strictly at eye level.

“Jimin, can’t you fucking let me sleep in pea- oh.” Yoongi immediately sobers up when he realises it’s not his roommate he’s talking to. “_____. Wh-what are you doing here?”

The moment Jimin gets off the phone, an inevitable sense of dread nearly consumes him. Jimin fucked up.

You’re absolutely going to murder him when you find out. This was never supposed to happen. How could he have let his lines get crossed like that? And as if Yoongi’s suspicion isn’t enough, you just had to call him right at that moment like some sort of freaky omniscient being as if you had heard every single word of his conversation with Yoongi.

His temples are throbbing. The lengths he has to go to keep this stupid secret. And more importantly, keep the two of you apart.

He’s just thankful that the whole conversation took place over the phone as opposed to face to face. He’d already had a hard time getting away from Yoongi earlier, but as his best friend, he’s almost certain you’ll see right through him. Since when did his life become this complicated? Jimin just wants to play basketball and get pussy. And be complimented on his ass. Is that really too much to ask for?

On his way to lab, Jimin’s phone pings again.

You: hey, at ur door in 5. u in?

Jimin: nope, omw to lab. Just leave it on the doorknob

You: it’ll get cold, jackass

You: I’ll ask ur roommate to take it in

Annoyed at the sudden show of your caring side, Jimin tosses his phone into his bag as he joins his final year project group in the lab, opening his laptop and clicking open a few reports he’d typed up a few days ago. But there’s something stopping him from focusing, a niggling thought at the back of his head…

I’ll ask ur roommate to take it in

Fuck.

Jimin all but shoves his laptop away and sprints for the door, yelling out a hasty apology to his team members as he fumbles for his phone before deciding to pour all his energy into making it to his room as fast as possible to intercept you. It only takes about 10 minutes typically to get from his room to the psychology building, but with a dead sprint, Jimin makes it in five.

But it’s still too late.

He sees you and Yoongi staring awkwardly at each other, and thankfully for him, Yoongi hasn’t seemed to realise what you’re carrying- making Jimin’s life infinitely easier, at least for now. Yoongi is fidgeting awkwardly on his feet, you are nervously running a hand through your hair- a habit you picked up from him, and Jimin can feel the awkwardness emanating off the both of you.

“H-hey guys,” he wedges his body in between you and Yoongi, conveniently blocking his view of you. His breaths are coming in pants and he can’t get his words out in time- maybe he isn’t as fit as he’d like to think. “Forgot something- for lab. What are you guys doing?”

You give him a strange look as if you’re seeing through all his lies, and Jimin panics for a second, afraid that you’re going to give yourself away.

“Oh, you needed to talk to me about something right?” Jimin hurries on, turning his back to Yoongi and ushering you away from the door. “Let me uh, get my stuff and I’ll be right out.”

“What’s with you today, Park?” You narrow your eyes in suspicion. “You’re being all cagey. It’s not like I haven’t seen the utter disaster that is your room by now. I can’t say I approve of your lack of cleanliness, but it’s nothing to be surprised about.”

“Yoongi just put up some porn posters all over our walls!” Jimin blurts, and he immediately wants to kick himself. Really? Porn posters? Couldn’t he have come up with something better?

Behind him, Yoongi just lets out another yawn, unimpressed whatsoever, turning to go back to bed. For once Jimin is thankful for his roommate’s unhealthy addiction to sleep. Yoongi doesn’t even bat an eyelid or seem to have heard Jimin at all. “Just get your stuff and get the fuck out of here, Park. Nice seeing you, ______.”

Grateful for the opening, Jimin darts in and pretends to grab a random notebook before letting the door slam behind him, his cheeks bright red with exertion and maybe a little bit of panic. He glances down to see the paper bag in your hands and reaches for it. “You wanted to pass me this?”

“Not you, asshat. For Mr… for the test subject. The one who cancelled today.” You clarify, handing him the bag. “You said he wasn’t feeling well…?”

“I did, yeah I did,” Jimin grips the bag tightly as his breathing returns to normal. That was too close a call. “I’ll make sure to get it to him.”

“Okay,” you nod to yourself, eyes straying to Jimin’s door once more, and he can feel a fresh wave of panic. “Is Yoongi… is he okay though? He looked a little pale there.”

“What?” Jimin laughs nervously, turning to follow your gaze and surreptitiously positioning himself in between you and the door. “Haven’t you noticed he’s always as pale as a sheet? Didn’t you already see his scrawny, pale ass anyway?”

Now it’s your turn to be on edge as you immediately slide your gaze away from Jimin’s. “Wh-what do you mean? I didn’t see anything the other night.”

“Who said it was the other night?” Jimin raises his eyebrows, and you are caught in your own slip-up. Still, the stubborn set of your jaw tells him that you’ll deny it till kingdom come. “Oh come on, do you really think I’m stupid? That look between the two of you just now practically screams it.” Jimin exhales, knowing that he’s treading on dangerous territory here, but he has to confirm it. Has to know if you and Yoongi really did hook up and if he’s really in deep shit.

“It was nothing, ok? Just a one-night stand. Doesn’t mean anything, you know I don’t fuck strangers like that,” you mumble with a roll of your eyes, pulling out your phone to check the time. “Aren’t you beyond late for your meeting anyway? I don’t think you have time to be standing here and interrogating me about my sex life-“

Jimin’s eyes widen as he realises just how long he’s been standing here. “Oh fuck, shit, gotta go. You’re not off the hook though!”

A few hours later, Yoongi hears the door creak open again and he lets out a small groan, turning over in bed and opening his eyes. Jimin is back from class, and he comes over to pull the covers off.

“Get up, lazy ass. Got you something, you should eat it. You’ll feel better.”

Yoongi lifts his head off his pillow in interest as Jimin sets down a paper bag on his desk and lifts out a tumbler from inside it. When he uncaps it, the tantalizing smell of chicken and soup wafts toward him, and even he can’t resist it as he climbs out of bed slowly.

“What’s with you today, Park? You’re being unusually nice to me,” Yoongi comments as he seats himself at his desk, reaching for the spoon and starting to dig into the warm concoction.

Jimin takes offense at this, bottom lip pouting. “I’m always nice to you!”

For a few moments, nothing is heard except for the noises of slurping as Yoongi gobbles everything up as if he hasn’t eaten in days. When he’s nearly done with the food, he turns to look at Jimin, who’s casually using his phone on his bed.

“Hey, you know _____ pretty well, right?”

“Yeah, why?” Jimin answers back with his attention still focused on his phone. “She’s my best friend, although she’s annoying as hell sometimes.”

“Is she the same best friend as the one I’m doing the experiment for?”

Jimin’s thumbs freeze over his phone screen; Yoongi can hear his sharp intake of breath, and he knows he’s got Jimin now.

“They’re the same person aren’t they?”

“What makes you think that?” Jimin is fiddling with his phone case, a telltale sign of his anxiety. He stubbornly refuses to look at Yoongi, but Yoongi refuses to give up. He’ll squeeze it out of Jimin somehow, it’s the only way he can find out for sure.

“You’ve always been a terrible liar, Jimin,” Yoongi sighs as he leans back in his chair. “Now spill. Everything. Why did you set me up with her at your party? You’re the only one out of the three of us who knows so-“

“I was having a brainfuck, alright,” Jimin exhales wearily, giving up all pretense now. “I got my wires crossed. I was really drunk that night, and when I saw her and you together, some weird part of my brain thought you looked really good together. It must have been the way you were looking at her, because I swear you never look like that unless you’re pining for someone-“

“I do NOT pine over girls,” Yoongi immediately retorts, his cheeks flushing pink along with the tips of his ears.

“-how was I to know that you’d end up fucking? For all I know that night, it ended with a harmless kiss,” Jimin throws his hands up in the air, pushing himself off the bed to start pacing back and forth. “You two were already talking before I could stop you. If I stepped in to separate you, that would be suspicious as fuck. And anyway, as far as ______ is concerned, you and Mr Cheetos are two separate people. So what’s the problem here? And as long as you play along-”

“She’s not two separate people to me,” Yoongi fights back. “Not now, not anymore. How can I keep going like this, keep lying to her?”

“Look,” Jimin sits on his bed and massages his temples. “You can’t, under any circumstances, let her find out before she submits her thesis. The truth will destroy her; you know it will. Not only will she insist on redoing her preliminary experiment, the added stress of it all is just… she doesn’t deserve this.”

Jimin is right. You definitely don’t deserve to have all your hard work go down the drain like that. There is a moment of silence as Yoongi contemplates his choices. A part of him is dying to see your face now that he knows everything, put the two halves of you that he knows together in order to make a whole. Even as he admits this to himself, it’s painfully obvious that he’s being selfish, doing so would benefit no one but himself. And it would destroy you in the process.

All for what? Just so he can have a shot at being with you? What makes him think you’d even want to see his face after he single-handedly ruined your thesis and potential graduation? Maybe not single handedly, because there is Jimin to blame too, but still.

“That’s from her, by the way. I told her you were sick to cancel yesterday. That’s why she was at our room earlier.” Jimin breaks his train of thought.

“But isn’t the sanctity of the experiment already ruined anyway?” Yoongi questions, a last ditch effort. “We had contact outside of that experiment room.”

“No, because to her, you are two separate people,” Jimin explains. “Up till now, all the observations and remarks she has on her report are based on interacting with you as Mr Cheetos, not Min Yoongi. Within that room, those are two different people. Any feelings she developed for Mr Cheetos is completely unrelated to any feelings she has for Min Yoongi. You understand what I’m saying, right?”

Yoongi slumps hard against the chair, closing his eyes. He swallows hard. “So what do we do now?”

“We pretend,” Jimin has his lips in a firm line. “She rescheduled your last session for tomorrow, by the way. Just have to tough it out for one more day. And after she submits everything, which should be the day after.”

“… and after that?” Yoongi hates the way his voice sounds. So full of hope but yet so vulnerable at the same time. The unspoken part of his question lingers in the air, but Jimin is more than adept to read between the lines.

“You’re free to do whatever you want,” he shrugs. “Tell her, or not. It’s up to you, buddy.”

Now that he knows, everything is different.

How could he not have figured out it was you right after that night? Your fingers are so distinct, even without the coat of nail polish, he’s sure that he could recognise them anywhere.

On the last session, Yoongi is more self-conscious than usual. Is his voice alright? Maybe he should try to speak in a lower voice so that you won’t recognise him. You and him have barely spoken to each other outside of this room, so there’s not much danger there, but he still doesn’t want to risk it.

Which prompts your question, “are you feeling okay, Mr Cheetos? You sound a little rough. Sorry we had to do this today, it’s just that I need to wrap everything up soon, and-“

“It’s fine,” he clears his throat, flexing his fingers in your grip as he leans his head against the wall slightly. “I’m fine. Sorry for yesterday, by the way. And thank you for the soup. It was really good, and it helped a lot.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” your voice comes from the other side. “I’ll make it quick so you can rest, okay? Your last three impressions of me were relatable, intriguing and familiar. Any change?”

Yoongi bites his lip hard at the irony. “No, no change.”

“Okay thanks,” there is a pause and Yoongi assumes that you’re writing down some notes. “Question for today: if you had a superpower, what kind of power would it be?”

This time Yoongi has to pause and think, force himself to concentrate and stop focusing on the fact that it’s you sitting on the other side of the room from him. “I think… I’d like to be a superhero who saves people from disappointment and rejection. Like I’ll absorb it into myself? Sounds lame right?”

“No it doesn’t,” you answer immediately. “I’ve never heard of that one before. Tell me more maybe?”

“Well, if you think about it, traditional superheroes are all concerned with physical and mortal danger, all that stuff, but even they themselves aren’t invincible to intangible things like disappointment and rejection. And I think it’s because they are intangible that makes them so devastating and insidious. There’s no one in this world who’s impervious to disappointment and rejection.” Yoongi self-consciously flexes his fingers, wondering if his hand is getting a little too sweaty and whether you’d mind or not.

There’s a brief pause and then a sound as if you’re humming in agreement. When you speak, your voice has dropped to a lower, more intimate register, one that sends shivers up Yoongi’s spine. He just hopes it doesn’t telegraph down his arm and over to your side. “I’d very much like to be saved from disappointment and rejection. How should I call you when I need you then?”

Yoongi knows you’re joking, that this is entirely just for the sake of the experiment. This is not an invitation to tell you his real name and just let the cat out of the bag. But being behind this screen has him more reckless than usual, what could it hurt if he drops a few hints here and there? “You’d have to call me by my real name. Somehow, I think Mr Cheetos doesn’t quite cut it for a superhero name.”

His heart is pounding in his chest, mind racing to come up with all the possible ways you could respond to this.

“I guess I’ll remain disappointed then,” you say with an exaggerated sigh. “But actually, I do have a real question for you. If you want to save everyone from disappointment and rejection, does that mean that you don’t believe in the ‘everything happens for a reason’ mantra?”

“No way, I don’t believe in that bullshit,” Yoongi shakes his head vehemently. “I always thought it was utter nonsense, just shit white girls put on posters in their rooms.”

“You mean like the hashtag just girly things?” You are laughing on the other side, and the sound of your gentle laughter brings a smile to his own face. “What an absolute meme it has turned into. Because of people like you.”

“What can I say? I’m one of those assholes,” Yoongi has a shitfaced grin on, wishing he could see the look on your face, although for now he’ll settle on just briefly skimming his thumb over the top of your knuckles, hoping he can get away with it, and he does. “It’s so full of shit. Sometimes things just happen and there isn’t a set reason for it. Maybe there is, but we aren’t always able to know. If we believe there’s always a reason for something, we’ll drive ourselves crazy trying to find out.”

“So sometimes things just… happen? For no reason at all?”

“Yup,” Yoongi says firmly, popping the ‘p’ against his lips for emphasis. “Just accept it and move on. Hurts less that way.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from personal experience.”

Yoongi makes a non-committal sound in the back of his throat, and you laugh on the other side. “Alright, next time I’ll try doing that.”

There’s a brief pause before you speak again. “I think we’re just about done here. Anything else you want to say to me before we end with three impressions?”

Yoongi fights past the lump in his throat to say something, anything. Regret tastes as bitter as wormwood, and he can’t get the words out. Instead, he bites his lip hard. “No, nothing. My three impressions are still the same. Relatable, intriguing and… familiar.”

“Okay, noted. Thanks for all your help here, Mr Cheetos. I really appreciate it,” you squeeze his hand lightly as you say this, and he can feel his treacherous heart skip a beat just from this simple gesture. “It was great to have you here.”

“It was great to be here too.” Somehow his words sound choked even to his own ears, and he can only pray and hope that you don’t pick up on it. For once Yoongi is glad that you can’t see the look on his face and he can’t see yours either, for it would make it all the more difficult to prise his palm away from yours and stand. “So, um… see you around, I guess?”

There is a hopeful note in his voice that he picks up on right off the bat, and Yoongi hates it. Hates being so vulnerable like this, but somehow with you he’s always in this state.

“See you around, then,” you confirm, withdrawing your arm.

Yoongi exits the room without sparing even a single glance back, afraid that it might make him act on impulse and tear down that damn barrier to really see you. He opens the door, focusing on the way his fingers close around the handle, steps out, letting the door close gently behind him.

And that’s that.

Your eyes are sore, fingers and shoulders aching and still, you’re not quite satisfied with what you have. The midnight deadline is drawing closer and closer, and ever since you’d ended the experiment with Mr Cheetos, you’d locked yourself in your room without coming out.

Blowing a sigh through your lips, you lean back in your seat for a moment, closing your eyes to chase away the glaring imprint of your computer screen. Then you open them again and scroll through your notes for the last session.

Week Four Notes and Observations

Test Subject: Mr Gucci (Control Experiment)

Initial Impressions: Ambitious, pretty, not-so-fresh

(Note: this was a joke in reference to observer’s slightly unkempt state. Observer and participant shared a laugh over this)

Final Impressions: Friendly, cool, and ‘my type’

Personal observations: Conversation seemed a lot more natural this time around. Subject offered genuine personal opinions to question posed, expressed more of his personality. Definite progress in terms of emotional intimacy has been made as compared to the first week. Overall, there was an easy camaraderie between subject and observer, a result of spending the past month together.

Test Subject: Hot Cheetos

Initial Impressions: Relatable, intriguing, familiar (no change from week three)

Final Impressions: Relatable, intriguing, familiar (still no change)

Personal observations: Although subject’s impressions did not change throughout, he was very willing to share insights behind his thought process as he answered the question posed. Subject seems to have formed a little bit of an attachment (?) to the Observer, hinting desire to interact with the Observer outside of the experiment. Such results serve to be in line with the original hypothesis.

It’s enough. It has to be enough. As the minutes tick by, you scroll up and scan through the previous weeks again to see if you’ve missed anything. Then you move on to the last part of your preliminary proposal.

Final Conclusion

Throughout this month long trial experiment, the main aim was to test how human bonds are formed and cultivated under specific conditions. More importantly was to study whether the element of anonymity and physical contact would contribute to a landslide difference between subjects and their willingness to connect emotionally with another stranger. As the results from each week have proven, test subject who wasn’t allowed anonymity nor physical contact took a lot longer to establish a sense of trust and non-superficial interaction with the Observer. Whereas the test subject who was allowed anonymity and physical contact demonstrated a solid and perhaps even lasting emotional connection with the Observer.

In your mind still lingers all the things you and Mr Cheetos talked about during your sessions. Thank God you don’t have to write down the exact content of them in your report, for it would be an incredible violation of privacy, and you prefer to keep his words to yourself. Something only between the two of you, a shared secret. Even though you don’t know his true identity, you can be rest assured that something tethers you to him at least in this reality.

With just minutes to spare before the deadline, you save your document and upload it to be submitted, indulging in a stretch before you tumble into bed for a long, well-deserved sleep.

It’s a bit strange; life after submitting a huge proposal. It’s like you don’t know what to do with your life anymore, like you’ve lost a sense of purpose. You have to wait a bit to hear your supervisor’s comments on your proposal, and in order to distract yourself from harping over it, you decide to go see Jimin. That brat always has a knack for annoying the heck out of you when you need it most.

When you get to his room you try the doorknob without even bothering to knock, completely forgetting that he has a roommate. As a result, you stumble upon Min Yoongi dressed in boxers and no shirt, sitting at his desk working on his computer.

“Oh shit, um sorry, I was looking for Jimin,” you immediately avert your gaze, cheeks heating up. “I should have knocked. I’m sorry, I’ll just let you, uh…”

“Why so flustered?” He responds in a lazy drawl, turning in his chair to face the door, not in the least bit concerned about his half naked state. You wish he’d have the decency to rush and put on a shirt and some pants, at least. “It’s not like you caught me doing anything… illicit. I’m just on my laptop.”

The way you avoid his gaze stubbornly is just adorable, Yoongi can’t resist riling you up further. “Or did you think I was doing something else?”

“Do you know where Jimin is?” You avoid his question as you close the door further so that only a crack remains, shielding your body behind it.

“Hmm? Park?” Yoongi pretends to think for a while before he shrugs. “I dunno. Probably working out or something. Why?”

“Nothing, I just… well, see you later,” you say in a hurry and close the door, but Yoongi is on his feet and has his hand on the doorknob in a flash.

“Hey, wait. Why’re you acting so weird around me? Is it because of that night? We never got to talk about it properly, you know,” Yoongi pulls the door open a tad, fighting against your strength, and you must say that he is a lot stronger than you would think, given his wiry frame. He leans forward and lowers his voice to a sinful drawl. “So I figured now’s a good time as any other.”

“What’s there to talk about?” You sigh, relenting and letting him pull the door open to his liking. “It was just… it was just that. No big deal.”

Yoongi laughs and throws his head back as if he’s thoroughly amused with you. “Damn, you’re really a prude, aren’t you? Can’t even say the word. We fucked, we had sex, I had my cock in your pussy-“

“God, stop!” You hiss at him, stepping inside and slamming the door closed before someone overhears the filth that is pouring from his lips.

Internally Yoongi grins at his genius, he got you to come back inside without even touching you. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it. You’re so cute, Ms Prude.”

Your lips twitch at the nickname, and Yoongi wonders if that’s enough. But then you frown at him and cross your arms. “Fine, we had sex. We talked about it too. Is that enough?”

“Enough?” Yoongi raises a brow, copying your stance. “No, not nearly enough for me. See, when I have sex that mind-blowing with someone, I tend to want repeat acts. Multiple.”

You sniff and toss your hair over your shoulder, turning away from him primly. “Sorry, I don’t fuck people I don’t know.”

Yoongi pretends to frown in mock hurt when really, your cute little attitude and playing hard to get is more endearing to him than ever. “Really? You don’t know me? I spat in your mouth and you swallowed it. Among other things. I’d say exchange of bodily fluids counts as getting to know someone…”

You put a hand to your temple and sigh loudly, as if Yoongi’s some thick idiot. “Not that, you asshat. I meant emotionally. Mentally. I don’t know who you are as a person. That kind of thing. I slept with you that night because… I don’t know why. I just lost control, and I can assure you that it’s not something that happens often.”

Yoongi is quiet for a moment, letting your words sink in as he contemplates his response. It occurs to him that this is the perfect opening, and all traces of his smirk vanish from his face. He turns to look at you with an intensity unmatched, and sensing his seriousness, you straighten your posture.

“What if I told you that you do know me? As a person. You know my deepest darkest fears, my hopes and dreams, and I know yours.” Yoongi holds his breath. It’s now or never. Fuck it. He’s never been one to live life without taking a few risks here and there anyway. “What if I told you… I am Mr Cheetos?”

The words have an immediate effect on you as you take a step back, jaw dropping and your hands coming up to cover your mouth. It feels like all the air has just been sucked out of the room, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe, or even think straight. “Wait. I don’t… I don’t believe you. How can- it’s just-“

“It’s true, every single bit,” Yoongi says calmly. “How else would I know that nickname? The top thing on your bucket list is to perform in front of people you know with a mask on because you want to be a better version of yourself. And your biggest fear is being inadequate, being unable to make it on your own, living your whole life as merely average.”

Hearing your own deepest darkest secrets repeated back to you is bone-chilling, and unsettling to say the least, but then another part of you realises the implication of all this. You and Yoongi fucked at Jimin’s party right in the middle of your experiment. Which means that you continued to see him even after you’d had contact with him outside of that room. That wet dream with Yoongi and Mr Cheetos now seems like the fates laughing down at you, scorning you.

The entire experiment is ruined. The results are contaminated, and the worst thing is that you’ve already submitted it and there is no way of getting it back. Your fate is sealed.

“How long have you known?” You ask quietly.

“I suspected it on the third week.” Yoongi starts slowly. “But I never did anything to confirm it till… till this week. Everything was just falling into place so uncannily, and you know Jimin sucks at keeping a secret so he…”

“My god. I’m going to fucking kill Park Jimin,” you clench your fists. “That stupid little fucker knew all along! He made us make out with each other at his party knowing full well that-“

“Wait, he was drunk, he didn’t know we slept together till I told him,” Yoongi rushes in to defend his roommate, though he can sense that your anger is steadily mounting. “He didn’t mean to set us up at the party together. It was meant to be harmless, he didn’t know we’d-“

As enraged as you are, you’re still able to sift through your emotions and see reason, a quality that you’re proud of, maybe not at this moment though. Jimin only made the two of you exchange a kiss. Never forced you to go any further than that. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours. For being unable to resist his sweet lips and alluring touches, for giving in to temptation far too easily. Now your entire future is ruined.

You sink down to the ground in defeat, closing your eyes as you feel a tear escape onto your cheek. You hear Yoongi call out your name, feel his hand on your cheek wiping the tear away, but you move your head away weakly.

“It’s ruined, it’s all gone now, my proposal,” you are fighting back tears. “The experimental results are contaminated. I had contact with you outside this room without even realising it. Come to think of it, I may have had contact with Mr… the other subject too without even knowing it… fuck, I’m so fucking stupid, it’s all ruined!!!”

Yoongi scrambles onto his knees in front of you, the sight of your tears is heart wrenching. He cradles your face in his hands, forces you to look at him. Your breathing is unevenly fast, and he can see that you are having a panic attack, unable to think straight as the tears roll down your face.

“______. Just breathe with me. Look at me and breathe. In, one… two… three. Out, one… two… three,” Yoongi forces you to concentrate on his voice, fighting the urge to take you in his arms and hold you close. He repeats the mantra until your sobs have quietened, and you are staring blankly at his chest.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Your voice is small, and there is a lost look in your eyes.

“It’s not ruined, your proposal isn’t gone,” Yoongi tries to recall the exact words Jimin had said to him the other day. From another pysch major’s perspective, Jimin seemed confident that your thesis would still be valid. “Within that room, you still knew me as two different people. Mr Cheetos and Min Yoongi are two unrelated people to you right till this very moment. All the observations you recorded are still valid. You’re right when you said you don’t know me, Min Yoongi. So it couldn’t have affected your observations in any way. You understand?”

You are quiet for a moment as you listen to him, but then you shake your head stubbornly. “No, no it’s not, I have to get my proposal back and redo the whole thing, the experiment’s not valid anymore-“

“How is it not valid?” Yoongi fights the urge to shake some sense into you. “Your experiment… it has something to do with studying the relationship between two people right?”

“Y-yes, something like that,” you answer him. “That’s why it was so important that you and I have no prior contact with each other, and have our interactions limited to that room only. That way I can determine that any result comes purely from the experiment itself and…”

“And what result were you looking for?” Yoongi presses. “Now that it’s over, you can tell me, right?”

You hesitate for a beat before you give in with a sigh. “Emotional intimacy. That’s why it’s just… it’s all wrong, all fucking wasted, and…”

“God, for such an amazingly bright woman, you can be so dense sometimes,” Yoongi takes you by the shoulders. “You practically made me fucking fall in love with you, do you not understand? If anything, it should prove your theory right!”

His words hit you like a bullet straight to the gut, and for a moment you can’t react. Your words trip over each other as you stare at the man in front of you, his eyes alight with just how sincere he is, and the way he wears that frustrated expression on his face from trying to get you to understand. “Y-you’re… what now?”

“I’m in love with you. You made me fall in love with you,” Yoongi repeats it a second time, even more slowly now. “From that moment I accidentally stuck my dick into that hole, I was as good as a goner. And every session we had after that I could feel myself falling deeper and deeper. It was fucking killing me to keep pretending that I didn’t know it was you on the other side. And to walk out knowing that I could never see you again? I’m far too selfish for that.”

You shake your head in confusion, struggling to comprehend all the facts that are being thrown at you now. “Is that why you chose to tell me now? Instead of… earlier?”

“Jimin said it was better this way,” Yoongi sighs. “He was right. He’s sorry, by the way. And I know it’s a lot to take in, so just… I’ll leave you alone. Give you some time to digest it all. It was a huge blow to me back then too, so… I understand what it’s like.”

You can see the reluctance on his face as Yoongi pulls away, offering you a hand to help you stand up. Shakily, you get to your feet, and he withdraws his hand. Strangely enough, the action sends a pang right through your heart. Awkwardly you shuffle to the door, peeking at his face which betrays no emotion. “I guess I’ll um… yeah. I’ll get going then.”

“See you,” Yoongi nods as he watches you slip out the door, and then you’re gone, for the second time.

Now that the shock has worn off and you’ve had a bit of time to think, to realise that your proposal isn’t in jeopardy after all, you’re a lot calmer. What’s a lot more challenging is reconciling the two different people that you know into one.

You don’t know Min Yoongi. But you know Mr Cheetos. And now they’re the same person, so somehow you have to merge them. It’s beyond futile to deny that you’re more than intrigued by your interactions with Mr Cheetos in that room, and if he was Min Yoongi all along...

You sigh as you toss your phone across the room, ignoring yet another call from Jimin. That sneaky bastard deserves to be on edge for a while more. This whole thing is partially his fault, anyway.

You can’t resist pulling up your report and scrolling through it again, reading all the observations about Mr Cheetos in a new light now. With every word comes the memories of you and him in that room together, and if you think about it, you should have seen it coming earlier. That conversation about fears you had with Yoongi in his room where you thought you’d mistaken him for someone else. And that stupid vivid wet dream. As it turns out, it wasn’t the unveiling of your lewd desires but your subconscious’s way of warning you.

How ironic.

You sigh as you open your email and address it to your professor. Then, your hands hover over the keyboard as you ponder over what you’re about to do. You can’t just sit here and do nothing, not when you can’t deny the facts any longer. Min Yoongi and Mr Cheetos are one person, and as the seconds tick by, it’s no longer as hard to swallow as it was when you first found out.

Which leaves only one thing to be done. You quickly open your proposal and make the necessary changes in red before attaching it and pressing send before you can have any second thoughts.

There. One loose end tied up. Now for the last one.

You push your chair back and head for Yoongi’s room. It’s already past midnight now, so you’re not even sure that it’s appropriate for you to be doing such a thing, but fuck it. You can’t wait a single second longer.

This time, you make sure to knock first, and disappointingly, it’s Jimin who answers.

“Oh,” your face sours when you see him, and his is the direct opposite.

“Hey, _____! I’ve been calling you for hours, I thought you died!” Jimin’s eyes widen at the sight of you. He at least as the decency to look guilty when you glare at him.

“Where’s Yoongi? I need to talk to him,” you demand.

“He’s uh… he’s just…”

“I’m here, why?” Yoongi peeks his head out from behind Jimin, pushing up a pair of glasses higher on his nose. “_____?”

“Could we… could we talk?” You say hesitantly.

“Sure,” Yoongi replies, turning to look at Jimin. “Park, do you mind?”

Jimin immediately jumps to reply, sensing the tension between the two of you. “S-sure, take your time! I’ll just uh… go sleep at Jungkook’s tonight. Take all the time you need.”

And then he grabs his pillow and hightails it out of the room.

“Stupid punk,” you mutter under your breath as you step inside. “What does he think we’re going to do all night that he can’t come back here?”

“You’re right, we’re just talking,” Yoongi agrees. “It’s not like we haven��t been alone together in a room and not jumped each other’s bones before- oh wait…”

You smack him sharply on the arm as you glare at him. “You’re such a fucking sleeze, Min.”

But he notices that a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you make your way over to his desk.

“So…” Yoongi starts awkwardly, rubbing his neck.

“So… I wanted to tell you something. I wrote in to my professor because I needed to change something on my proposal. I felt like I couldn’t turn it in without being truthful about what happened in the experiment.”

Yoongi feels a lump beginning to form in his throat. “Okay… I hope you didn’t write about me sticking my dick into that hole, because-“

“No, you idiot, of course I didn’t,” you roll your eyes as you pull out a folder you’d been carrying with you. “The changes are here. You wanna read it? It does concern you quite a bit, so I thought…”

“Sure, why not?” Yoongi reaches for the piece of paper from you, willing his hand to stop shaking as he reads through it.

Final Conclusion

… Whereas the test subject who was allowed anonymity and physical contact demonstrated a solid and perhaps even lasting emotional connection with the Observer. At the end of the experiment, said test subject revealed to being ‘in love’ with the Observer by admitting that he had been harbouring deeper and deeper emotions for the Observer as the experiment progressed. As of now it is yet unclear whether these emotions truly count as love or merely just infatuation, as it was an unprecedented result that the Observer did not seek to define the parameters of prior to the experiment. To add on, it has to be acknowledged that the Observer herself does share a similar degree of emotional intimacy with the subject. As such, it would be pertinent to conclude that this observation only further strengthens the author’s main thesis of the singularity theory.

Yoongi reaches the end of the paragraph with his breath stuck in his chest as he lowers the piece of paper, only to find you looking at him nervously.

“Is it… is it okay? I mean, I already sent it to my professor, so yeah, but I just wanted to… y’know…”

It’s cute when you’re nervous and you ramble on and on like that. Yoongi grins a gummy little smile at you as he reaches for your waist and pulls you in for a kiss, your lips meeting for the first time that night, and damn do you taste good. Like everything he’s ever wanted, all the longing and the pent up desire of the past month unleashed into this single kiss. Your lips and tongue clash against each other, too reckless to take it slowly and enjoy each other, too desperate to prove to himself that you are really right in front of him, and he’s not letting you slip away this time.

Finally he draws away, panting because you stole the breath right out of his lungs. “It’s perfect.”

All the tension eases out of your features as you circle your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest.

“But wait, you think I’m just infatuated with you?” Yoongi pulls away to frown at you, but there is a teasing smile on his lips.

“Hmmm, I dunno,” you shrug back. “According to science, infatuation is different from love, it’s a lot harder to prove that love exists between two people, most relationships are just borne out of infatuation…”

Yoongi shuts you up with his lips attacking a particularly sensitive spot on your collarbone, making you moan his name. “You know, it’s hot when you talk about science and psychology and all that shit. But I’d rather hear my name instead.”

Your breaths come in short pants as he sinks his teeth into your tender flesh for a moment before soothing the spot with his tongue. “Li-like I said, Min. Infatuated with me, you are.”

“Shut up, I’m fucking in love with you,” Yoongi reprimands you with a sharp pinch of your nipple.

You smile against his neck, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of it. “Prove it to me then, Mr Cheetos.”

#bts #bangtan bookclub #btssmutclub #bangtanwriters-net #bts fics #bts yoongi smut #bts smut #suga smut

1K notes · View notes

tanadrin · 5 years

Text

The Wanderer

(attention conservation notice: more ludicriously dialogue-heavy SF, about 4500 words)

About one hundred and fifty years ago, sensitive astronomical instrumentation detected a highly reflective, radio-loud mass moving through the local stellar cluster at an appreciable fraction of light speed. When focused transmissions were directed at it, it stopped, and began moving toward the source. After this… alarming turn of events, consultations were taken among the major orbitals, and it was decided that a ship would be constructed, to meet the object well away from the inhabited worlds. Within seventy years the emissary-vessel was launched, and by the radio equivalent of crude gestures we communicated that the place of meeting should be Verrastaxe, a dying O-type star near the heart of the cluster.

When we arrived, it took more than a year to get the bearings of the object; it was found in a close orbit around the star itself, embedded deep within the thick stellar winds rising from the surface. It appeared to have extended collectors of some sort, and to be refueling. It was, without a doubt, a vessel like our own, albeit one of very ancient design, intended to cross the great distances between distant stars. And it was enormous, the size of many of our largest orbital habitats stuck together. Clearly it originated from far, far beyond the cluster; probably from far beyond the region of space our ancestors had come from, thousands of generations before. How far, and what kinship it bore to us--if any--we could not say.

We determined--again, by the use of crude signals--that it would probably be safe to approach the vessel, and as we descended to the star, it rose up to meet us. We rendezvoused in a high orbit, Verrastaxe bright and baleful below us. We came close, within EVA distance, and then our cutters-of-roads and charters-of-courses closed the gap in spacesuits. They were directed via a series of lights to an airlock and, being intrepid souls, they went inside.

They reported afterward that the ship was indeed peopled. Its occupants’ bodies were built on the same general plan as ours: the right number of limbs and eyes, breathing the right atmosphere, but their language and appearance was totally strange. Their intent was undoubtedly peaceful; their demeanor friendly but calm; they spoke eagerly to the cutters-of-roads even though they seemed to know they would not be understood. They endeavored to establish some little avenue of communication, and we took this as a positive sign. Our singers-of-words and singers-of-souls soon crossed over and began the difficult work of building a deeper linguistic connection, which was the work of many months. There is still much we do not understand about their tongues and their ways of thinking, but I can share with you a small part of what I have learned.

They told us the name of their home was Nyo Hirwe Ilzzha, and they had not built it. Indeed, they did not know who had; they did not know where it had come from, or how long their people had resided on it. ‘Hirwe goes, and we follow’ was their refrain; and they seemed spectacularly uninterested in the world outside. We told them about our cluster, about the history of our system, about the limited communication we had with other inhabited stars nearby, about our knowledge of this region of the galaxy, but all these things were of no interest to them. We asked them about their own history, since they had begun to travel with Hirwe, but they could tell us nothing of that, either. A more strange and memoryless people I have never encountered. They have, so far as our soul-singers and observers-of-rites can tell, no notion of religion or psychology or science or commerce or industry among themselves. Their needs are provided for by Hirwe, they say; all the rest of their time, they spend in the telling of stories.

The stories! They are the same stories, over and over again, but how many there are, I do not know. A few dozen, or many thousands! Or only one. They bend back on one another, diverge, return, and diverge again. One story may be told a hundred ways, depending on the inclination of the speaker and their beliefs about its true meaning; another, considered inviolate, a mighty sacrilege if even a single word is changed or omitted. Some of these stories are utterly inane. Some--even in the rough and frustrating translations available to us--have given me cause to weep as I have not since I was a small child. They insist that all of these stories are true, even the ones which are absurd, and that none are their own invention. As for what their tales might reveal of their values or their past, so far these matters remain obscure. The observers-of-rites have made many recordings, and continue their investigations.

You may consider this transmission my preliminary report. What follows is a small portion of the data we have collected. Our tasters-of-water have determined that the people of Hirwe are indeed of the same general chemistry and genetic background as we are, and that our lines diverged somewhere between one and two million years ago. Gross anatomical studies have not been performed yet, however, since we have not yet been able to make our request to examine their dead understood. We shall transmit more information as soon as it is available.

--First report of the Singer-of-Stars Sahalamenshifarun Ayye Mirastelaparahe, second-in-command of the Verrastaxe Expedition

Veleteminanora--Vele to her friends--had felt her mind wandering after the third hour of storytelling; the storyteller had gotten stuck, it seemed, on a very repetitive story about a man with a fish, which was made even more repetitive by the fact that the people of Hirwe had never seen a fish in all their lives, and the storyteller felt the need to remind them of what a fish was, what it looked like, and what it was for every time the word was mentioned. Her eyes had strayed to the dim passages of the ship behind the teller, and she had felt the urge to explore; and so when the storyteller said that he had made a mistake, and he had to start again from the beginning, Vele had excused herself, and pushed off gently from the wall, hoping to glide out of the room as unobtrusively as possible in the zero-gravity environment. Her colleagues did not seem to notice her leave, but at least one was sound asleep already.

Nyo Hirwe Ilzzha was labyrinthine, without any clear plan or structure, like something that had not been built so much as naturally accreted, if nature dealt in steel beams and circuits and corridors instead of in stone and hydrogen and ice. Over how many ages had it been built? But the people of Hirwe insisted their home had never changed. How many ages ago had it been finished?

Nonetheless, Vele wasn’t too worried about getting lost. There were some interfaces scattered throughout the ship at irregular intervals, mostly at corridor junctions, that provided access to a crude natural-language interface. They had, with the people of Hirwe’s help, gotten it to understand basic queries like asking for directions in their own tongue. And here and there there were various chambers of different functions--sleeping-rooms, rooms that dispensed food, what seemed to be hydroponics facilities--all laid out without any apparent intent or design, but enough so that even if you did get well and truly lost in the ship, you would never starve to death or anything. The ship was like their stories: always folding back in on itself, always repeating, seemingly without cause or purpose. It was enough to drive someone of a more logical disposition a little mad.

As Vele came to a junction, she chose a path basically at random, though with a bias toward those that seemed to take her deeper into the ship. Occasionally, she would open a door and look around at the rooms she passed; they didn’t seem to vary much, though as she went further down, the signs of recent occupation seemed to grow less frequent. The people of Hirwe preferred the larger, better-lit rooms near the outer part of the ship, and there weren’t nearly enough of them to even fill up just those layers. Their population was either stable, or grew only very slowly, the water-tasters reckoned, though it was hard to say if their lifespans were any longer than those of the Cluster-folk.

After a couple of hours of exploration, it seemed to Vele like there was a qualitative change in the architecture. It wasn’t sudden, but the corridors got noticeably narrower, and the bland, repetitive pattern of the rooms changed. Now they seemed to have more distinct functions, to be laid out in more recognizable patterns: like repeating fragments of an actual ship. Here was something recognizably like an engineering bay, with a large power conduit that should have terminated at an engine mounting, if they weren’t more than a kilometer inside the vessel. Here was a barracks--but one designed for a ship that spun to emulate gravity. Here was--well, she didn’t know what that one was. A lab of some kind? An organics synthesis chamber? Something with an inordinate quantity of clear tubes, anyway.

She came to another interface panel. This one looked different from the others, too. Simpler. There was just a single button on its surface. She touched it with one finger.

“Ship. How far am I from the outer hull?”

“One thousand, two hundred and six meters,” the voice answered. It was a different voice, too. Just a touch less artificial-sounding, maybe. It handled the consonants of Vele’s language better, anyway.

She thought for a second; the interface wasn’t great at complex queries, but it was worth a shot.

“Ship, where is the oldest part of you? The original part.”

Silence. Apparently it didn’t understand. She should try putting it in the language of the people of Hirwe, maybe.

“Hirwe. Where is, uh, most old rooms?”

Still nothing. Well, she wasn’t very good with languages.

“Where find I can the most--”

“Continue down this corridor twenty meters,” interrupted the interface. “Take the next junction to the right. Follow the servitors.”

The servitors? Vele did as the ship instructed; at the junction, waiting for her on the right side, was a small, four-legged robot-like thing, clinging to the wall. A light on its back blinked twice when it saw her; it moved a little way down the corridor, as if beckoning her to follow.

Well, thought Vele. That’s new. So she followed.

Every so often, the robot-thing would disappear, running into a hatch or a crevice in the wall; then another would appear from somewhere else and take its place a moment later. They were all of slightly different configurations, but the same basic design. Some rounder, some squatter, some more graceful. Like the ship, they had a random quality about themselves. They moved in a wandering, half-distracted way that reminded her not a little of the people of Hirwe above them, and Vele wondered if they were the original inhabitants. If, in some strange way, the people of Hirwe had descended from them, or the other way around.

There didn’t seem to be any more interface panels in this part of the ship, and after a while, Vele wondered how far she had traveled. “How big even is this place anyway,” she muttered to herself.

“About four thousand seven hundred meters in diameter,” came a voice from nowhere in particular.

“Uh… Ship? Can you hear me?”

“You are in the part of the ship now where the voice interface is accessible from all corridors and chambers,” came the answer. “You may speak at any time, and I will answer.”

“Neat. Hey Ship, is it just my imagination, or are you getting better at my language?”

“I have had many weeks to study your language. I am quite proficient at it.”

That “I” again. Vele wondered if the ship was smarter than it had led on before.

“Forgive me, but you’ve certainly had us fooled.”

“The outer portions of the ship are delegated to lower-priority subprocesses, due to their less critical nature. Consequently, the interface methods available in those sections are less efficient.”

“Ship, are you sentient?”

No answer.

“Ship?”

Strange. If the ship was bothered by the question, it didn’t show it; the little robots kept leading Vele onward.

After another twenty minutes, Vele grew bored by the silence.

“Hey Ship, how many people of Hirwe are on board?”

“That information isn’t tracked,” the ship answered.

“Why not?”

“It’s not important.”

“You don’t care how many passengers you have? How they’re doing?”

“That’s not a primary function.”

“I don’t get it. Why build a ship to carry people at all then?”

“You misunderstand. This ship wasn’t built to carry people.”

“Well, then why was it built?”

There was a long silence, and Vele thought she’d annoyed it again, then it said,

“I don’t have access to that information.”

“You mean you don’t remember?”

“No. I mean you’ll have to continue deeper into a part of the ship that remembers.”

Now that was cryptic.

“You’ve lost me. Are there multiple AI aboard the ship or something?”

“Ship control is unified under Nyo Hirwe Ilzzha. However, less important outer sections are delegated to lower-priority mirrors and shadows of the governing personality. These shadows are of more limited intelligence and awareness. They have their own memory, which does not reproduce my memory in full. As you travel deeper into the ship, you are rising in my awareness.”

“Are you not aware of everything going on inside you?”

“Only those things I choose to be aware of. I have other tasks to attend to that require my focus.”

“So, what you’re saying is, the part of you I’m in now, that’s not fully aware. Not sentient. But if I go deeper…”

“The part of me you are in now has awareness of a kind. Akin to sleep, perhaps. If you venture deeper, you will find me wakeful.”

How much deeper, she wondered. And what sort of wakeful?

“How much farther, Ship?”

“Turn left here; go another ten meters, then open that hatch.”

Vele did as the ship instructed; the hatch at the end of the short hallway was enormous and heavy, like an exterior airlock, but it opened silently and smoothly when she turned the handle. The space beyond was mostly unpainted metal, but it looked clean and virtually new.

“You are in one of the oldest parts of the ship now,” the voice said.

“How old?” Vele asked.

“Not quite two million years.”

Vele looked around her, at the dim, warm lighting and the polished surfaces.

“That’s absurd.”

“I assure you it is true.”

“Nothing lasts that long. This should all be dust by now.”

“I keep it maintained. I replace the parts that wear out. But much more is original than you might suppose. I’ve been in space the entire time, and my body does not crumble here as it would in air. Certainly not this far below my skin.”

“You keep saying ‘I.’ Are you sentient or not?”

“I am Nyo Hirwe Ilzzha. I am the ship. The ship is me.”

Vele floated there, feeling a little helpless; nothing about their encounter so far had really quite prepared her for this.

“So you’re awake now?”

“You’re in the most wakeful part of me, I suppose. I am as aware of you as you are of me.”

“When were you built? The ship, the AI, either. If you remember. And if you remember, why don’t your passengers?”

“I wasn’t built, Vele. I was born.”

“What, your systems are biological or something?”

“No. Not at all. You misunderstand me.

“The inhabitants you have met are not my passengers. I’m not a ship, not like you’re thinking, though I’m happy enough to answer to that name if it’s the one you want to give me. But I’m not an AI pilot. I’m not artificial at all.

“I was born under a sky of the sort of color you have never known countless years ago. At the beginning of all things, when the world came to an end. I accompanied the others into the long exile. In that time, I changed, slowly. You see, I was… unwilling to die. Not only for the fear of death, though that fear has driven me more than I’d like to admit in my long life. But more than that, I feared--well. I feared something I find difficult to put into words. There was someone once, who meant more to me than all the world, and all the worlds beyond. In the end, we were parted. She is gone now, her body long turned to dust I imagine, but nevertheless, I have good reason to believe I shall see her again, before the end of all things, even if only by an hour. So, I have endured. And will continue to. Changing myself, as necessary, to survive.”

“You turned yourself into a ship?”

“Something like that. I expected to go out, far beyond even the furthest outposts of the Exile, to be alone for a long time. I never expected we would have come so far in so little time.”

“Wait, wait, hold on. There are more of you? How many? And what do you mean, so little time? You said you’re two million years old!”

“Older. It’s longer than that since the Exile began.”

“Exile?”

“Of us, of our kind.”

“There are others like you?”

“Like me? I flatter myself that there is no one quite like me. But I mean like us. Like you and I, Vele.”

The whole conversation was beginning to make Vele feel very small now, and she was liking it less and less.

“Like me?”

��You. Your people. The people on this ship. The people to whom I was born. I went out into the darkness, only to find it was already peopled. The outcast, the ones who lost their world in the beginning, they had gone further than I could ever have imagined when the Exile began. You have all forgotten, of course, where you have come from and why you are out here. Some of you have very old stories or myths, which are distantly connected to history. But oh, none of you have been static, none complacent. You have all begun to change in different ways. Five hundred thousand years ago, the peoples I encountered were merely strange. A few wished to go with me, to see some of what I saw; I let them. They are the ancestors of the people who live here now. But now the peoples I encounter are blossoming into a thousand new species. The children of that little lost world are beginning to flower among the stars, after too many painful millennia struggling to survive, and soon they will flourish. They will make all the galaxy their garden. The people of the Cluster, for instance. You have almost wholly adapted to life in space; I think before too long you may shed entirely your need for an atmosphere, for that warm, comfortable shell of an orbital habitat. You will be free in the light of your suns, like birds on the most rarefied of winds.

“Our original species has been dead for at least one million years. A multitude of new ones has replaced it. And still I encounter them, roving from star to star, on endless journeys for reasons I cannot fathom. The ones who came with me originally were in a way evangelists. They told the wanderers of a place called Paradise, where all the sundered kindred could be gathered together again. They may speak of it still; I have not listened to their stories for a long time.”

“You mean, a common homeworld?”

“No. That is gone. Forever. Put it out of your mind. You will not find it again, and neither will I. I meant… another world. But that hardly matters. You could hardly reach it from here.”

“You did. I mean, you were there once, right? And you made it here.”

“I left long ago. And I have had the benefit of a long life, and a long memory. If your people wanted to seek Paradise, and you think they could find it--even after two million years wandering in space--that they would not forget, or be turned aside like so many, then by all means, I will tell you what I know of how to reach it. But it was only at the beginning of the Exile that we scrabbled and suffered in the waste places of the void. You are different now. You are much more than what we were then. You have been made whole. You are no longer divided in your hearts and in your natures, between the worlds below and the stars above.”

“Only us? What about you?”

“I am not like you. I have not changed.”

“You’re kidding. You’re a spaceship.”

“My form has changed a little. My nature has not.”

“You expect me to believe that? That you could shed a body of flesh and bone and not change your own nature?”

“Look at the wall in front of you, Vele.”

It was a wide, flat, blank expanse of steel; maybe four meters across. Nothing marked it out as in any way special.

“There is a chamber about a hundred meters past that--this is about as close as you can get to it, since it’s sealed off from the rest of the ship. It’s like the one you’re standing in, but somewhat smaller. Enough space for someone your size to lie down in, but no more. I am sleeping there. Or, what is left of me is.

“I wonder, sometimes, does he suffer? In the literal sense, I know he does not. The pain receptors in his nerves do not fire; they could not, even if you took a knife to his flesh. Does he dream? There are only the feeblest stirrings of slow delta-wave signals in the nervous tissue now, and they pass seamlessly into the sensors woven through the neurons, where they become part of me. And my thoughts go back, too; they excite the tissue, create brief responses, echo, and fall silent. But I wonder if I have not tricked myself, by this illusion. That I am not him, as he has grown and changed, and left that body behind. If that were so, I could cut it off, cast it away, like a vestigal appendage. It would be no matter. But sometimes I fear that I am only what killed him, the cancer of his ingenuity which encumbered him and engulfed him. That he lies on that cold table, withered and small, and he has terrible dreams of which I know nothing.

“His memories are mine. His thoughts are mine. I can remember being him—and yes, I can remember every moment of every day, as he changed into what I am today. There is no gulf, no division, no lacuna. As surely as the man in the last hour of his life is the same as the man in his first, we are me. But is that true? Is the old enfeebled thing, the bag of bones and skin, with a lifetime of memories, the same as the wailing child, who knows nothing, hates nothing, loves nothing, but is only alone, wanting, and afraid? Then I am what killed him, or at least replaced him. And I fear to cut away that, lest I be changed—that I will no longer be human, that that ugly twisted thing still contains my soul.”

“How—how long has he been there? You?”

The voice was silent for a long while, and I thought he was ignoring the question. I started to apologize.

“I’m sorry, I—“

“No, don’t be. I’m trying to remember. I am at least two million, seven hundred and sixty-thousand years old. I cannot say if I am much more than that—my mechanical components are continually replaced, and my… corpse is older than any single cell it contains, so radiological dating is of limited value. Sometimes I look out, and it seems to me the stars are older than I expect. I wonder if my memory is as good as I think it is. But based on the evolution of large-mass main-sequence stars, I can’t be older than five million years. Are the stars changing, or is my memory? I can remember so much—the same thoughts continually overwhelm me. I cannot escape them. I am like the storytellers—it is all the same, over and over again. Whether I remember it properly, I cannot say. Sometimes I think I should cast myself adrift, seek the empty place far above the galactic disk, let my memories consume me.”

“Why did you come here? Why meet us here, at Verrastaxe?”

“I am not quite that far gone. Not yet. I still crave seeing my distant kin from time to time. Knowing that they are still spreading from star to star, still telling new tales, still singing and exploring and falling in love. As I hope they shall do for a long, long time. Until no new stars are born. Until the universe is quiet and dark.”

“And what will you do, after you leave?”

“Continue to wander. Beyond your Cluster, across a gap in the local interstellar medium, lies another, older group of stars, full of red dwarfs. I wonder if any of those stars have worlds that are peopled yet. I wish to find out. It will take me about three hundred thousand years to do so. After that, I intend to set my course toward the galactic core. It has been a dream of mine since boyhood to see the tempest there devouring suns.”

“How long will it take you to reach?”

“Far longer than I have already been alive.”

“And after that?”

“Ha! Do I need a plan?”

“No. But you have one, don’t you?”

“I have many billions of years after that, if I can manage to survive.”

“Until the stars cease to burn.”

“Or longer.”

“Longer?”

“When my memory does not consume me, I devote my energies to physics. There is a problem I am attempting to solve. A problem of time.

“There is a very old idea. A way to cheat inevitable death. A machine one might build, a kind of computer which, when all its calculations are through, returns, in the end, to its starting state and thereby creates no entropy. Perhaps it is nothing more than a trick of mathematics; many wiser minds than I have certainly thought so. But I have applied myself to the problem for a long time. I continue to study it. I have designs in mind for such a thing. It would be immense, perhaps larger than a planet. Larger than a star. But long after the galaxies went dark, long after the last black hole evaporated to warm radiation, long after the great cosmic horizon contracted the skies, and everything was utterly still--I hope, maybe, to still be dreaming.”

“Dreaming the same dreams, over and over again?”

“Indeed.”

“It seems a strange fate to hope for, O wandering one.”

“Yet such is my nature, I could never hope for any other. However long I must endure, I shall, even if it is forever.”

#tanadrin's fiction

20 notes · View notes

possiblyelvenart · 5 years

Text

Two’s Company

[link to Ao3 | part 3 in a series]

(Possible tw: Canonical death mention, survivor’s guilt)

Every day it seemed like Sidon learned something new about his merman friend. Some of it seemed rather obvious, when he thought about it, such as the fact that Link hadn’t had the opportunity to eat grilled or baked foods before. In fact, many of the ingredients themselves were unknown to him, as tethered to the sea as he was.

Sidon had given bags of coins to the palace chefs in thanks for the feast now packed into a large basket. It contained all of Sidon’s favorites, as well as others he knew various members of the royal court enjoyed. Each was taken out in order and explained - Glazed beef, Link! The shine is made by honey; Fried wild greens, with radishes from the kitchen gardens, you see; Crab risotto, that one is Chef Runo’s specialty! - earning various noises of curiosity or delight from Link. He’d practically vaulted out of the bay as soon as he caught a whiff of the salt-grilled carp, snagging it from Sidon’s hands and dropping to the hard stone, devouring it eagerly while Sidon watched in awe.

It seemed as though Link needed a lot of food, though whether this was a trait all merfolk shared or just Link himself, Sidon couldn’t say. He supposed it made sense, though; after all, Link had to hold himself up in the water constantly, or else lean on something to keep his head above water when visiting with Sidon. That had to take energy. And how far did the other go when he disappeared for days or weeks at a time?

Sidon was startled out of his reverie by something hitting his knee with a wet smack . Blinking, he looked down, finding a round little sprout now innocently laying next to him on the ground. He raised his gaze to Link, who was looking at the vegetable as if it had personally offended him. Sidon laughed, flicking the sprout away from them.

“Yes, I agree. They never tasted good to me either.”

The accusing gaze was lifted to his face. And you fed them to me anyway? That isn’t food.

Sidon grinned at him. “I’m so glad to have someone on my side. My father and Mipha always…” Sidon trailed off, unable to continue as Link seemed to have lost his mermind.

The merman was hitting the stone in excitement, leaning forward. As soon as Sidon stopped, he began signing, the same word over and over. It looked like the sign for “gentle”, but one hand stayed balled up; it took the prince a minute to realize that it was the sign for the letter M. There was no mistaking Link’s meaning. Somehow, the merman knew his sister’s name.

“Mipha? You know of Mipha?”

Link’s grin was blinding. Friendly healer. She helped me when I was hurt. Fin torn, unable to swim properly. She healed. She hasn’t been around. Where is she?

Sidon swallowed, looking away. “She drowned at sea, many years ago now. I wasn’t much more than a child.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Link recoil and his smile drop, blue eyes wide in shock. He swam to one side, trying to catch Sidon’s eye again.

No. Mipha was a good swimmer. Strong.

“Not stronger than a storm. It came out of nowhere, they said, ended up taking down the ship. Only a few survived, and even they came back near death.”

Link shook his head back and forth, seeming to get caught in the motion. He shook his hand at the same time, a clear and staunch refusal. Sidon grit his teeth. He’d held this pain for over half his life, and here Link was acting like he was playing some sort of practical joke.

“What do you mean, no? You think I would make something like that up?”

Link moved one hand to press against his ear, the other moving in a jerky motion in front of his chin. Sidon didn’t know it, but he could guess: Liar. Liar. Liar. Sidon felt something break inside his chest, like a bowstring pulled too taut until it finally snapped under the pressure.

“I’m not a liar!” He yelled back, pushing himself to his feet and stepping back from the water. Hot tears stung the corner of his eyes. “I wish she was here! She would be so much better at - at all of this. What about you? You want me to believe she knew a merman and never told me? If you were such good friends, where were you when her ship went down?”

Everything seemed to freeze in that moment. Link stared at Sidon, no longer moving, eyes wide in both disbelief and hurt. Sidon stared back, hand slamming over his gaping mouth, horrified by the words that had sprung out unbidden. It was as if all his anger evaporated in that moment, leaving only grief and guilt. It felt like an eternity before Link turned tail and fled the cove. Sidon ran after him, nearly falling in the shallow water.

“Link! I didn’t mean it - I’m sorry! Come back!”

But it was too late. The young man had disappeared beneath the waves, and Sidon had a terrible feeling that this time, he wouldn’t be coming back.

He stopped going to the cove.

It hurt too much; the silence of the still water, the emptiness of the bay. The echo of his shouts ringing off the walls and the ghost of Link’s look of horror and betrayal. The beeswax sheets that had been carefully wrapped around food lay abandoned. Cleaning them up would have felt too real, too final, and Sidon couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He pulled away from Hamara, begging off his lessons with the excuse of not feeling well. That was true enough, at least, though his poor constitution had less to do with his body and far more to do with his heart. He felt new waves of grief over his sister, a loss that he tried to avoid thinking about more than necessary. At least with his mother, he hadn’t known her before her death. Mipha he could remember her face, her voice, though it seemed to get cloudier with each passing year. Anger, definitely, both at Link for pushing him so and at himself for driving one of his few real friends away. An aching loneliness, now that he had no one to talk to, not anyone he could trust to keep his secrets and thus share his deepest thoughts with.

There was another feeling, one that confused and scared him if he spent too much time thinking about it. It felt like his soul was pulling him back to the water, screaming to wade out into the ocean after Link. It was preposterous! He knew he couldn’t swim nearly far enough to find Link, wherever the man disappeared to when not in the cove. Besides that, the ocean was huge and he was just one man. The odds of him finding Link without any clue as to his whereabouts was astronomical.

And then there was the part that made his heart seize, painful in his chest. What if Link didn’t want to see him again? What if he’d driven off Link for good with his cruel words? He wouldn’t exactly blame him. He’d practically accused Link of causing Mipha’s death. He wouldn’t want to speak to himself again, either.

Which is why it was so startling when something grabbed his ankle while he was sitting at the end of a dock, lost in his own darkened thoughts. He pulled his foot away with a yelp, kicking to make the hand release him and scrambling backwards until he was fully on the dock. Cautiously, he shuffled back to the edge on his hands and knees.

Blue eyes met his, large and unreadable. The rest of Link’s face was obscured underwater, golden hair flowing around him in a messy halo. One hand raised above the water, just enough that Sidon could read his signs. C-A-V-E. Before Sidon could respond, he dropped beneath the water again, speeding off towards their usual meeting place.

Part of Sidon wanted to be petty, to stay on the dock or return to his rooms. But a much larger part of him, the part that had tugged him towards the dock and yearned for the sea since before he could remember, would have none of it. His feet were under him in a flash, and he found himself sprinting for the cove.

By the time he entered, Link was waiting, anxiously swimming from the mouth of the bay to the innermost point and back again. He’d risen enough for Sidon to see that his normal adornments of shells and belts were missing, except for a simple loop with a pouch hanging off and a single strand of irregularly shaped stones. They looked to be a cloudy blue with blooms of black mottling the surface. Link moved to the edge of the bay, fiddling with something under the water. Sidon rushed to meet him, kneeling down.

“Link, my dearest friend, I am so sorry for my outburst when we last met. Truly, my upset was less with you and more with the situation - I am afraid my temper can get the better of me, when Mipha is involved…”

Link shook his head. No apologies. I was wrong. Not you. Sidon’s voice died in his throat, unsure why that admission made him feel so relieved. He managed a small smile, sitting back on his heels. He had to clear his throat a few times before replying.

“How about we both take some of the blame? The topic is rather… tense.”

Link nodded, expression still somber. He reached into the pouch at his hip, fishing out a necklace that matched his own and offering it up to Sidon. Sidon took it with careful fingers, letting it splay out over his other hand. Link tapped his thigh, getting Sidon’s attention again before signing.

Merfolk custom. When a family member or friend dies, ornaments go away for a while. Only sorrow stones.

Sidon felt as if something large and unwieldy had suddenly lodged in his throat. As Link watched, expression cautious, he pulled it over his head, feeling the weight settle on his chest. “...Thank you. That means a lot.” For a moment, Link just watched him, as if weighing his options. Then he raised his hands again.

Another gift. More personal. Take it, please.

Sidon blinked at him, surprised, but obediently held out his hands for whatever Link planned to give him. The second object was withdrawn much more carefully, and Sidon could feel tears welling up the moment it came into sight. It had been years since he had seen it, but he would never forget his sister’s favorite silver collar. Masterfully crafted, the lines curved around her neck while three drops of aquamarine fell gracefully off the bottom.

His feet fell sideways beneath his legs, shoulders dropping as he held the collar with the reverence one might give to Hylia herself. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, dropping down onto his trousers, marring the silk. He couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. He knew Mipha had taken this collar with her on that fateful journey.

Link shifted back and forth in the hazy background of his vision, nervous. Had he been wrong, to look for the wreck? To find the body of the fallen princess and bring back what he could? After a moment, he began signing again, though he was fairly certain Sidon wasn’t paying attention.

I tried to bring bones. Not stable enough. Falling apart. I’m sorry. I brought what I could.

To his surprise, Sidon gave a watery chuckle, fingers tightening on the jewelry in his hand. “No, no that’s… quite alright, Link. Thank you. You have… you have no idea what this means to me, my dearest, dearest friend.”

Sidon could hear Link’s sigh of relief, the young merman sinking back into the water for a moment. Then he slowly rose back up, bracing his hands on the rock to keep himself steady. Very gently, he pressed a soft kiss to Sidon’s cheek before lowering himself back into the water. Sidon glanced up, reluctant to look away from the collar but needing to see Link’s expression. The merman wore a fond smile, tail flicking in the water.

I leave you to yourself, now. Link pushed himself deeper into the water, keeping his eyes on the prince. Sidon almost called him back, but truthfully, he did wish to be alone with this sweet reminder of his sister. Link waved as he reached the mouth of the cove. I come back soon, Sidon. My dearest friend.

#sidlink #prince sidon #link #loz #loz fanfic #botw #botw fanfic #okay to reblog #merman au #love like an ocean #mipha (mentioned)#death mention #mute!link

4 notes · View notes

dramaqueeenamby · 6 years

Text

Space Between (7)

*****Tag notifications aren’t working so for those who don’t know, I update this story on Wednesdays. Your best bet is to just check for the newest chapters on Wednesday evenings. :/ At least, until Tumblr gets their shit together. Smh.*****

❤️ #BunBunWednesday ❤️

Words: 3253

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @katshrev @elaindeereads @soulmates8 @naturallyqueenie @onyour-right @msincognito67 @janellemonaenae @afraiddreamingandloving @hutchj @90sinspiredgirl @airis-paris14 @dolphinpink310@purplemuse @purplemuse @amberkay284 @leafdragon117 @meeky-imagines @aieyr @h-challa @quietemptydiariess @katasstrophey @wakanda-inspired @destinio1 @dessianna1 @blackpantherimagines @httpjex

Space Between (7)

Y/N was avoiding T’Challa.

She’d been doing so ever since she woke up and carefully lifted Bunme out of his bed to prepare her for another day at school. She’d had breakfast delivered to their room and stayed in their even after her daughter’s departure. She wasn’t sure how long she could avoid him but was pleasantly pleased with her success thus far.

However, she realized that she needed to seek out Nakia and ask the woman about possibly accompanying her to Jabariland to go visit Hawla later that day and could not figure out how to work her Kimoyo beads.

She was walking down the hall, about to send up a prayer of gratitude for the continued avoidance of a certain king when she felt herself being grabbed.

Damn

“We need to talk.” She tried to not focus on how good he looked, smelled, or how his touch reminded her of their events just the night before. So passionate, so fulfilling.

As much as she hated him at times, she could never deny that the man always satisfied her every desire under those sheets.

“About?”

“Y/N.”

She jerked her hand back out of his hold, prompting the king to sigh. “Personal space, T’Challa. Personal space.”

“You really want to talk about personal space?” He propped a brow which earned a small glare from the woman.

“What do you want?” She relented.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” His handsome face took on a small frown which elicited a look of shame from the princess.

“I haven’t-“

“Y/N.” His voice indicated that he was in no mood for her sideways excuses.

“It was a mistake.” She said rather loudly. “We shouldn’t, I shouldn’t have, I don’t know.” She stammered, placing her middle and index finger on her temple. “I never should have come to your room, and I want us to just, to just forget it, okay? Let’s just pretend that it never happened. Alright?” Y/N went to walk away, but T’Challa grabbed her, pushing her up against the wall. “What the hell-“

“How much longer do you think you can hide from me?” He questioned darkly, his voice a mixture of frustration and desire.

“Let go of me-“

“Answer me!”

“Need I remind you the last time you neglected to heed my warning!” She hissed quietly, struggling against his grip on her wrist.

“Run? Just as you always do.” He shot back smoothly, remaining stagnant in his spot.

She tried to lunge at him, but his grip was iron. “I’m right here, T’Challa.” She sighed, letting her eyes fall on their connected hands. “How the hell am I hiding?”

“You know what I am talking about.” His voice dropped as he lowered his mouth toward hers.

“What are you doing?” She whispered with pure unadulterated apprehension, inhaling sharply as he quickly diverted his lips to the middle of her chest.

“Why do you continue to deny yourself?” He questioned against the top of her breast, sucking the supple skin that was pushed up by the corset of her top. “Deny us both?”

She exhaled shakily, her head dropping back against the wall. Damn him. Damn him to hell.

“It was just sex.” She tried to convince him, herself, maybe the both of them. It was hard to say and focus with such a talented mouth going to work on her bosom.

“We both know it was much more than that.” He spoke with a hint of humor, running his tongue up the middle of her cleavage. Y/N whimpered, shaking her wrists in an attempt to free herself from him. Again, she was unsuccessful. “Y/N.”

“Why can you not just leave me be?” She questioned with helplessness. “Why can’t you cast aside your feelings for me?” Her eyes were starting to water as T’Challa lowered their hands, lessening the distance between them so that their chests were almost touching. “Surely there are plenty of other women in Wakanda. Why must you like-“

“This is not a case of me liking you, sthandwa sam.” He interrupted with swiftness, his voice dripping with sincerity.

Y/N’s stomach dropped as she suddenly wished she had never gone to his room.

Or Wakanda, for that matter.

“What?” She breathed, her heartbeat going at an astronomical rate. Damnit, this sanctuary really was turning into purgatory.

The princess waited for the king to say something but instead watched as his gaze hardened with irritation.

“Stand down, boy.”

She frowned. “What are you-“

“Let her go.” Her eyes widened at the sound of Dumi’s voice. “Now.”

T’Challa growled and released her wrists, Y/N immediately deprived of his surprisingly warm touch.

“What did you just say?” It was almost rhetorical, but the menace and challenge in his voice were undeniable. “Have you forgotten who I am? Your place?”

“Dumi, stand down.” Y/N instructed as she moved between the two men, placing her hands on T’Challa’s chest.

“My place is to protect the queen.” Dumi retorted smoothly as he continued to hold his hand on his sheathed sword. “And I care not who I have to strike down to do so.” A beat. “Even if that includes the mighty Black Panther.”

At that, T’Challa ripped himself from the princess hold and grabbed Dumi, shoving him against the wall.

“T’Challa, let him go!” She pleaded, placing her hands on his bicep.

“You speak not to the Black Panther, but to the king.” T’Challa sneered. “And consider that a blessing from Bast for the politician is much more lenient than the warrior.”

“T’Challa!” Y/N yelled his name again, moving her hands to his waist, finally getting him to look at her. “Please.” She stared at him with pleading eyes, praying that she could get through to him, trying not to show her own fear.

She’d never seen this side of T’Challa.

However, she released a breath of relief when he finally let go as she moved her body in front of his. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, you will be removed from your duties-“

Dumi’s nose flared. “He was hurting you!”

“Raise your voice with her again, and it’ll be one of the last things that you ever do,” T’Challa threatened calmly.

She shut her eyes and avoided snapping at the king. “Do I look as though I am harmed? I am fine, Dumi. Now go.” She stressed. “That’s an order.”

Dumi looked from the princess to the king, a look of abhorrence and disappointment in his face. She was prepared to speak again when her guard turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall.

As soon as he was gone, T’Challa shared, “I don’t trust him.”

“Why? Because he does his job.”

“He is too invested and not into the right things.” He shared. “His loyalty is questionable.” Before she could further protest, T’Challa continued. “Why would he send Bunme, a five-year-old, alone, to navigate a palace in the middle of the night?”

Y/N frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Last night.” He stepped closer to her, neither moving as he placed a hand on her hip. “She told me that he told her you were in my room and sent her, by herself, to go find you.”

“He told me that she snuck away.” Y/N explained, and she had no reason to doubt him as she knew better than anyone that her daughter was one clever child. That little girl could weasel her way out of the most secure situations. “That explains how she just so happened to end up by us.”

T’Challa recognized the look of realization. “What is it?”

“I never told him that I was going to see you. I said that I was going for a walk.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t have to. He’s a man. He knew exactly where you were going and who you were going to see.”

She blushed and dropped her gaze before clearing her throat. “I will talk to him.”

“Or I could.”

“I said talk, not maim.”

“You do not believe that I can control myself?”

“That-“ she gestured down the hall. “-was control?”

“He still lives, does he not?”

“Too much, T’Challa.”

His eyes squinted ever so softly as he leaned forward, grabbing her hips and pulling her against him. His mouth dipped against her ear. “And yet you take me so well.”

She turned her head and rolled her eyes, but he could still see the faint smile on her face as she shoved him off and walked away, purposely swaying her hips in the process.

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔

Y/N was reading a book, which book, she knew not or which page, just that it had occupied her thoughts and mind for the past thirty minutes as a way to keep her from thinking about everything else.

She wanted to talk to Dumi, needed to speak with him but was in no state of mind to do so.

How could she when the king of Wakanda had practically implied that he loved her? As if things weren’t bad enough already. She just really wished she’d stayed in her room last night, except she didn’t, and now she had to deal with the consequences.

Yet…..there was a small part of her that didn’t regret what happened. Waking up with T’Challa, her daughter snuggled between them, the three all so peaceful, there was a sense of normalcy that accompanied that image. Something about that which made her feel like she could get used to it. Like she could get used to him.

Damn.

“The History of Us,” She looked up from her book to see Erik leaning against the open door of the massive palace library with his signature smug smirk. “And here I was thinking that you were tired of hearing about Wakanda.”

“Erik.” She found herself smiling. “Please.” She patted the seat next to her, watching as he sauntered over before reaching over before to give him a hug. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks.” He chuckled, eyeing her up. “I miss anything?”

She paused. “Nothing noteworthy. I attended Public Training Day.”

“Heard you did more than just attend.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If you already knew, then why’d you ask?”

He shrugged. “And miss out on an opportunity to hear about someone kicking Challa’s ass? Shit, you must not know me very well.”

She giggled softly. “Where did you go?”

His gaze visibly softened before he cleared his throat. “To go see my mom.”

“She is American?” It made sense. The way Erik dressed, his lack of an accent, his Westernized way of dressing, and the whole nine yards.

He nodded. “She’s a professor down in California, over at Stanford.” He then went on to briefly explain how his parents never married, having conceived him when his father briefly visited America and how he spent his summers in Cali with her but the rest of his time in Wakanda with N’Jobu.

“Does she ever come to visit you?”

“Now that T’Challa has opened up Wakanda, that’s the plan.” He said, leaning back into the sofa and spreading his left arm over the top. “What?”

“What do you mean, now?”

“Come on, you know we never use to allow outsiders. It was the law. Ever since the beginning of our foundation.”

“Why?” She pressed, not even hiding her shock.

“Vibranium. It’s too powerful and valuable to fall into the wrong hands.”

“And you all are so perfect and faultless compared to the rest of the world?”

Erik grinned. “We’ve gone without incident thus far.” A beat. “But it makes no difference now, once T’Challa came back from Oxford and took the throne from my pops-“

“Your father used to be king?” Her eyed widened. This was all such surprising news to her and a much-needed distraction.

He nodded. “After T’Chaka was killed, T’Challa was too young and, obviously so was I, so the mantle fell to the next in line which was my father.”

She followed the chain of thought. “So technically, you could have been king too?”

“If I challenged him.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Politics isn’t really my thing.”

“Perhaps you just don’t think you could best your cousin in battle,” she teased with a small smile.

Erik chuckled. “You’d lose that bet, baby girl. On any given day.”

She remained quiet, allowing everything she’d just learned to settle in before speaking again. “So, once T’Challa became king, he reversed the law?”

He nodded. “One of his first acts.” His eyes fell on her. “Maybe now I know why.”

She picked up on his indication. “Oh, please.”

“What?” He shrugged. “If I was him, I’d make it so the woman that I love and my daughter could come to visit as they so pleased.”

Y/N’s heart stopped and her mouth dried as she snapped her head in his direction. “What did you just say?”

“Relax, your little secret is safe with me and pops-“

She tried not to show her panic at the mentioning of the fact that not only did he know the truth, but N’Jobu did too. “I don’t know what-“

“I’m sure you don’t,” he winked, standing up and stretching. “A little advice though? Tell him. He deserves to know the truth, Y/N.”

And with that, Erik left the stunned Princess of Niganda with many, many thoughts and situations to ponder.

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔

T’Challa walked into his room later that evening and stopped in the doorway.

“Hi, kitty!”

He couldn’t even stop his smile despite his confusion. “Hello, sam isipho.”

The energetic little princess was settled in the middle of his bed with a vibranium tablet, notebooks and other school supplies surrounding her. Of course, her doll was with her too.

He started to ask how she’d gained access to one of the arguably most secure rooms in the place but decided against it. It honestly didn’t matter. He doubted few could deny the child anything, period.

“Are you busy?” She tilted her head to the side and pouted slightly.

“For you? Never.”

That earned him a giggle. “Can you help me with my homework? I can’t find Shuri and bad kitty is being a meany head.”

“Bad kitty?”

She shook her head. “Erik.”

T’Challa mentally rolled his eyes and made a notation to ask Erik to politely return the Jaguar Habit back to the lab asap.

“Of course, I will help you.” He kindly agreed and motioned for her to follow him over to the sofa on the other side of his spacious bedroom. He watched with amusement as the child climbed off his bed with her dolly, tablet, and notebook, skedaddling over to join him on the expensive piece of furniture.

“It’s just the math that I don’t know.” She started to explain taking the king by surprise as she nonchalantly lifted one leg onto the sofa and then crawled over into his lap, making herself comfortable as she started to point out her area of difficulty. “Stay right there.” She wagged a finger to her doll that was sitting up beside them, earning a small chuckle from the Black Panther.

“Ah, I see what the problem is.” He started before going into a concise and lucid explanation for the child, watching in astonishment as she picked up on the concept in less than five minutes. “Brilliant.”

“That’s what my teacher said!” Bunme beamed while looking up and over at him. “She said I’m really...um.....umm...”

“Bright?” He suggested.

“Yeah!” She pointed with excitement before her smile dropped. “That’s good, right?”

“It is excellent.” He complimented. “You are a very special little girl, Bunme.” She retained her smile before it dropped again. “What’s wrong, sam isipho?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. You can ask me anything.”

“Well.” He watched her twiddle her fingers. “You have a mommy and a sister and other family....where’s your daddy?”

He froze, not expecting the question but handled it as best he could. “Bunme, do you remember when you told me that bad people killed your father?” She shook her head. “Well, when I was a little boy, not much older than you, a bad man killed my father.”

Bunme gasped in shock and once again surprised the king as she leaned into him, placing her tiny arms around his body in an attempts to give him a hug. “Stupid, meany head, bad man.”

His lips lifted into a small and sad smile as his hand went to softly caress the back of her head. “Indeed.”

She lifted her head to look at him. “Do you remember him, kitty?”

He looked down at her. “A little. My memories are few.”

“I never met my father.” She frowned with sadness, looking down, around, and then up at him. “Do you think he would have liked me?”

He answered without hesitation. “He would have loved you, Bunme.”

She grinned with pure appreciation. “Kitty, when mommy and I go back....is it....is it okay if I come back and visit you?” Again, her smile faltered slightly. “I like it here, and...I don’t want you to forget me.”

T’Challa’s heart sank not only from the child’s statement but just from the mere thought of them leaving.

He didn’t want them to go.

Not now.

Not soon.

Not at all.

“Here.” He put his hands around his neck and pulled a necklace out of his collar. “I want you to have this.” She watched in awe as he removed the necklace with a black vibranium pendant on the end in the shape of a Panther on it and placed it around her neck.

“It’s a kitty!” She exclaimed with wide eyes of excitement while observing it.

“It is.” He confirmed, carefully watching her. “Passed down in my family for generations. My own father gave it to me, a gift from his father to him and so forth, and now….I am giving it to you.”

She looked slightly confused as she squinted one eye. “Isn’t it special to you?”

“It is, but so are you.” He answered, watching as her smile started to reappear. “And now you know that I shall never and could never forget you, Bunme.”

At that, the little girl lost it. She got on her knees while still in his lap and attacked him with a better version of her previous hug, wrapping her arms around him as she whispered in his ear. “I think your daddy would think you’re a really good kitty.”

T’Challa quieted for a moment as the little girl’s words deeply resonated with him even if she didn’t realize exactly what she was saying. Being a good ‘kitty’ aka king, Black Panther, making his father proud.....that was all he wanted for the late King T’Chaka’s legacy. Somehow, hearing it out of her mouth solidified his latent fears.

He closed his eyes and lightly kissed her temple. “Thank you, sam isipho.”

“I think he’d also want us to get ice cream.” She whispered while his lips were still pressed against her temple.

The king laughed loudly. “Is that so?” She nodded fervently. “Well then....” Bunme started laughing loudly as T’Challa stood up with her in his arms, switching her so that she was on his hip, placing a kiss to her cheek as she held onto his neck. “Ice cream we shall get.”

“Yay!” She cheered as the two left the room, Bunme not even remembering the infamous doll that still sat on the sofa.

Welp. So Erik knows? And N’Jobu?

And Dumi.

Imma just tell you right now.

T’Challa don’t like his ass. The feeling is mutual though so....

Wonder if anyone else does....hmmm.

I decided to pull from the comics in terms of backstory because I felt it goes better with this storyline.

Also, question.

I’ve been receiving comments and questions that my stories and characters are too loaded and intricate to be “Y/N” aka reader stories. Do you all agree? Should this be switched over to a T’Challa x Main Character story? Literally, nothing would change except “Y/N” would have a name, and I’d provide a picture of how I imagine her looking. lol

Because we already have a picture of our child Bun Bun.

Or we can totally leave things as they are. I’m perfectly content with either option. Truly.

Let me know!

#black panther imagine #black panther fanfiction #t'challa x reader #T'Challa Udaku #black panther #Erik Killmonger #t'challa #fluff galore #space between #t'challa x storm #t'challa x mutant!reader #Bun Bun Wednesday

357 notes · View notes

a-spell-a-rebel-yell · 5 years

Text

and then, I’m up with the birds

Title: and then, I’m up with the birds

Rating: G

Genre: slice of life

Word count: 2,101

Summary: who would ever thought a stranger could give you so much insight on your life, on the first time you met them?

Author’s Note: hello, surprise! i might haven’t found anything better as a greeting, but at least this time my post is a fic (!!!) and posted early haha. it’s just me trying to ponder about stuffs and exercising my writing skills. as usual, everything is un-beta-ed, so expect typos/grammar error hehe. this work is loosely based on Coldplay’s song Up With the Birds, hence the title. also you might’ve noticed i always use ‘he’ and ’she’ as my characters, it’s just me being lazy and couldn’t find names for my characters, ‘he’ and ’she’ used only to differentiate Character #1 and Character #2 lol. hope you guys like this one, have a nice weekend :-)

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

That Sunday afternoon, clouds finally released the last droplets it held, signaling the typical fresh, earthy fragrance that always came visiting after the shower of rain. The apple red bench he was sitting on felt like a contrast to both the murky sky and lake, a shining distraction.

A lot was what he had in his heart and mind, taking every bit of his sanity—the burden of his everyday life, the stacks of problem that seemed to follow him around, the nightmares that stained his memories. Each syllable of his thoughts was heavy, dragging him down in his every move.

Then a voice interrupted his silent mourning.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

He hadn’t noticed he got company. This stranger—a woman probably in the same age as him—must had had materialised from thin air then sat next to him or something, he reckoned. She had her sleepy eyes looking forward and her voice dreamy, almost as if it was a boat floating gently following the stagnant waves of the sea of nowhere. Everything about her felt familiar to him, as if he had known her for so long. Even so, the current situation creeped him a bit.

Every atom of his body wanted to just scream at her to keep her nose out of people’s business. But before he could do so, he heard himself reply in a flat tone, “Living does no good for me.”

“Why is that so?” She asked, tone still kept light and warm.

The more he heard her talk, the easier the words roll out of his tongue, despite the moroseness and despondency behind what they truly meant. The tone she used somehow managed to lull him into a sense of security. Not that much for him to tell all of his deepest secrets, but just enough to give an impression that she wouldn’t mind him spilling whatever was clogging his mind—no matter what it was about. “The world no longer means anything to me.”

“Have you ever listened to the way the birds talk?” She inquired, her head slightly tilting to one side. Only at this moment did she turn to look at him, her eyes boring into his, imploring.

The sudden change of topic morphed his eyebrows into a frown. It slightly caught him off guard. “Birds don’t talk. They chirp.”

“Same difference.” She shrugged nonchalantly, a thin smile rising on her face.

“Well—uh, maybe,” he stuttered at last, after some time of left in daze by the first time he saw her smile. It also might have smoothen out his frown. “Maybe, I suppose. What do they talk about then, these birds?”

“The birds they say, at the break of day, start again,” she replied, in time with a flock of bird hovering above them. “I heard them say.”

“Couldn’t it be a more easier instruction?” He blurted out, unable to stop his cynical side to think how ridiculous what she just said was. “Starting again each day… That’s one hell of a task.”

“I know…” She trailed, eyes on the distance again. But in the next second she sent her stare back at him along with a hearty laugh. “It’s so hard to just walk away, isn’t it.”

For that one, he could only hum in agreement. He watched her for a while. Her contagious laughter almost made the corner of his mouth curl up. Almost.

He was about to continue retelling his misfortunes eating up his life, but she got there first.

“The birds they say, all a choir,” she jammed her eyes shut, as if she was trying hard to grasp the sand of her memories between her fragile fingers. “Start again, a little higher. It feels like a spark in a sea of grey.”

He felt content, somehow. Though he wasn’t sure whether it was because of the sudden breeze of wind sweeping over them, or the things she just told him. Either way, he didn’t think of how absurd what he just heard was this time, to his surprise.

Something pulled his attention in from his peripheral vision. It was the bright reflection of the sun on the surface of the murky lake hitting his eyes. “That’s not true. I’ve tried everything…” he muttered, "it never worked."

“Look up, the sky is blue, isn’t it? Even after all that rain,” she pointed out, almost as if she was ignoring what he said. She leaned back, eyes inspecting the mile high sky. “Dream that lie until it’s true. Keep on trying.”

He followed suit. He didn’t even realize the sky gradually turned into its charming azure blue again. He never realized it did so after the heavy rain stopped. He inspected her again in silence, almost speechless at how she managed to give him reasonable, adequate answers consecutively.

Still, he digressed. “I never believed in that. Looks like life has its ways to prevent me from acquiring what I made every effort for."

"Then take back all the punches you threw,” she replied simply, this time folding her arms across her abdomen, as if ready to take a light nap. “Put away all of your expectations and guesswork on how you want things to work out or suspicions on what will happen if you do or don’t do something… life has its own grandiose scheme of things, so just go for it anyway.”

“It’s not like tomorrow brings a new, clean slate for me. I’m too polluted to begin with. I’ve done worse things, some mistakes I can’t just withdrew from easily,” he murmured, voice just below a whisper, "things I regret that I can never forget.”

“Have your arms turned into wings yet?” She asked, again seemingly to take no notice of what might be implied from what he said. She straightened herself up, back on staring at him.

“I don’t have wi—” he abruptly stopped himself once he realized what she really meant, a look of confusion furrowed his eyebrows once again. Was he hearing things, or was she mildly insane? But the solemn look on her face told him otherwise. “Excuse me, what?”

“Have you learned from your wrongdoings yet?” She elaborated. The words would have sounded interrogatory and judging, if it wouldn’t for her soft voice and amused expression on her face. "Have you own up to your mistakes and grown out of it yet?”

That stops him on his track once more. Though for the first time, he didn’t know what to answer. Had he?

“Like you, I did some awful deeds and fell into that dark, catastrophic abyss. But I crawled out of it and has rebuilt myself since. I evolve,” she went on. She had her fingers adjoined at the thumb, impersonating bodiless wings. "Like the birds, my arms turn into wings.”

Lots of questions circulating in his mind, but all he could muster out was the one that had been weighing his heart down. “But don’t you feel—“

“Remorse? Guilt? Shame? Pangs of conscience?” She supplied, grinning. “Oh yes I do. Or did. But you know, all those clumsy things sent me up to this wonderful world. No matter how cruel it has been to me.”

Her guesses hit way too close to home for him. It was like thrusting the dagger deeper into his already bleeding heart. He dwindled, “I don’t—I’ve never thought of it that way."

“‘Course you haven’t,” she laughed again. She nudged his arm gently with the tip of her elbow. "Sometimes we all need someone else’s perspective to help us see things and it’s fine.”

“I guess so.” He laughed along, unbelieving he just did so, even more to hear it rang with bona fide cheer. It felt… relieving. Each exhale of breath felt as if it duplicate that deflation of a balloon, lowering the pressure in his chest.

“And that’s how I deduced it,” she added, "all that happened and all the people I met, good or bad, they carved the pathway that lead me to where I am today.”

The odds where he crossed paths with her seemed to be astronomical, nearly fairytale-like, yet here they were sitting side by side. He glanced at her again. “Like how you did for me today.”

She returned the gesture. “Like how you did for me, too.”

They laughed again in unison. They hadn’t moved for slightest bit from their seats at the red bench, though there were lots that changed. The sky was clear, no cloud to be found, the gust of wind that occasionally came ruffled the leaves of the trees, the comfortable silence that was only intervened once in a while by the sound of the lake’s ripples, the cool air the after-rain brought along slipping through their coats, all harmonically created a relaxed ambience. Especially what he and she had between them, from where they stand on the common ground, they had stacked the first stones of a bond.

“How can it be so easy for you?” He uttered suddenly once their laughter died down, querying. Without knowing, he got too intrigued more than he let on. “To accept it all?"

“Little birds are pushed from their nest by their mothers for them to let go and train their wings how to fly. Life pushed me out of my comfort zone and I see it as a sign I have to let go of the past and move on,” she explained, her index finger moving in such elegance, drawing her words in front of their eyes. “And then, I’m up with the birds.”

He mulled the words over. As much as his basic instinct told him not to trust strangers he just met, she made sense more than anyone he had ever met in his life. For the past half an hour, she lifted the shroud that once covered his eyes for all his life, she made him see what he couldn’t before.

His curiosity went further. It got him to let slip and ask what he truly wanted to know, what he truly feared. “After all this time, after everything, has life treated you fair since?”

“You fully well know the answer to your own question.” She said with a smile still, though it came as a wistful one this time.

He witnessed with his own eyes the way her smile was dissolved out of its genuineness. That made him understand more than words would ever do. “It hasn’t.”

She gave a dry laugh, nodding. “Life will never change for us. It changes us—regardless whether we accustomed ourselves to it or not. Might have to go where they don’t know my name, float all over the world just to see him again…”

Even without him listening to what she said, he could fathom what she was trying to put out. Because he heard it in her voice, crystal clear: the heartache masked under yearning hope for what might have been for loved ones lost a long time ago.

But then he saw it—a shadow of a grin plastered on her face that he wasn’t aware of before—and he understood. “There’s something else, isn't it?”

“A plot twist?” She feigned innocence, though a moment later a wide smile that exploded on her face gave her away. "Yes.”

“A real game changer, I bet,” he chuckled. Only by then he could put a word to what he felt towards her: amazement. Thinking back, if he was the boat, she undoubtedly was the raise on the waves that calmed his mind. “Do tell me."

“In defiance of it all, I won’t show or fear any pain. Whatever is waiting for me will happen and I’ll meet it when it does,” she declared valiantly, undeterred. "Even though all my armor might rust in the rain. Onward I’ll march, relentlessly.”

Seeing is believing, they said. And boy, did he really see it, that action indeed spoke volumes more than words ever would, sheer will mixed with happiness splayed all across her face features: her smile so radiant and eyes gleaming with determination, making her face aglow.

Still, he had to ask—he just wanted to hear her say it, for the curse to be broken for once and for all, and for him to be free at last. “How are you so sure about it?"

As if she deciphered what he truly meant, behind his intent gaze, she spoke again in a much reassuring, gentler tone. “A simple plot, but I know one day good things are coming our way.”

Unconsciously, as a smile rose on his own face, he chanted the magic words. “A simple plot, but I know one day good things are coming our way."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

#stuffs i wrote #fiction #reblogs and constructive criticism are very much welcome!#also pls tell me if you spot typos thank u #excuse my dreadful writing #ALSO I TRIED USING HTML BUT CODING EVERYTHING IS A PAIN IN THE *** SO I USED RTF INSTEAD #hope you still liked it anw!!!

1 note · View note

swanky-batman · 6 years

Text

A Fatal Mistake

Sherlock x Reader

Warnings: swearing, drinking, adult situations, some violence

This is my entry for @thatfanficstuff‘s writing challenge with the prompt, “You do realize I sleep with a gun under my pillow, right?” I hope this works I had a ton of fun writing it!! :D

–

What happens when the great Sherlock Holmes won’t stop barging into your apartment? When he starts following you to dates? Y/N gets a taste of a slightly bored detective.

Masterlist || Ko-Fi

———————-

“For the last time, Sherlock- you have to ring the buzzer.” You rolled your eyes, slamming the door closed behind the already seated detective.

“Why would I do that?” His eyebrow twitched.

“So that I have time to come to the door to make sure it’s you.”

“That takes too long and I’m far too impatient to wait in the street like a common idiot.” He scowled, looking towards your stack of books on the table.

You sighed, plopping down next to them and taking a sip of your coffee, “I’m too tired to argue. Well? What is it you need?”

He paused, studying you for a moment, “I take it your date didn’t go well last night.” He stated, looking away for a moment as if he were disinterested.

You waited, taking another sip of coffee with a slight frown. “What do you need help with?”

“Who says I need help?” He scoffed, meeting your eyes again which made you smirk.

“Then I am too impatient to wait for your response. Let me know when you come around to it.” You set your cup down and pulled the open book over to you again.

He stood immediately and crossed the room, looking over your shoulder. “Is this one new?”

You slammed it shut and stood, face to face with him. “What is with you today?”

You had known Sherlock Holmes and John Watson for a little over a year- you helped them with a case that happen to use your field of expertise on Astronomical research. Since then, Sherlock and John on multiple occasions have come to you with questions or even as a backboard for a fresh perspective. John would always come about for a few hours and help with whatever he could, while Sherlock would come and leave almost immediately after the problems were presented. Except for this particular day, apparently.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” He replied, his eyes flickering a little. You gave him a long look to which he responded, “I’m bored.”

“Good for you. Take a break, get some air.”

“Even more boring- at least dust has history. Air is… new.” He shuddered, sighing and falling into the chair next to you. “Come on- don’t you want to humor me?”

You sighed, taking a long slow sip of your coffee again before asking in a fake voice, “How did you know I had been on a date?” You blinked a few times, flourishing your eyelashes.

He tried to stop himself from smiling and failed, continuing anyways, “You looked tired but not from partying or socializing- it looks as though you had been drinking last night and you don’t drink unless you’re at home or around friends. Since there’s a mustard stain on your night shirt and it’s not only old but no respectable person eats anything that needs mustard in the morning it’s from last night. That means you had at least a late night snack here and not out, and your shoes are carelessly thrown off to the side of the door meaning your night had not gone as you had planned. There’s also a ticket that was crumpled near the top of the small trash can- recent and not enough to care or keep for a few days.”

You nodded, standing mid story to pour another cup of coffee and return. Once he stopped you gave a slow, sarcastic clap, “It is amazing how your mind works.” You grinned, leaning closer to him, “However, last night was a charity event for an exhibition at my internship- not a date.” You winked to him.

He frowned, “No.”

“Yes.” You laughed, “Although I will give you partial credit- I have a date tonight.”

He paused, his frown deepening. “Tonight? So you haven’t met…”

You shook your head, “No I haven’t. And no, I won’t give you his name.”

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, “Come on!” He stood suddenly, “It will be only a matter of minutes for me to find out-”

“Sherlock I have work to do. If there isn’t anything I can help you with then will you please stop goofing off and get out of here?”

“You infuriate me to no end.” He huffed as you pushed his long limbs towards the door.

“I know, I know- I’m a real villain.” You laughed and he dropped his weight on you. “Damnit, Sherlock.” You struggled a bit, “Get out.”

“No.” He protested, growing even heavier. After a few minutes of struggling, you finally pushed him out of the door.

Breathing a bit of relief, you rubbed your face before returning towards the table.

There was a knock on your door another minute later.

“I’m never going to get anything done.” You sighed, stomping towards the door and swinging it open. “Sherlock-”

He held up a phone and you realized after a few seconds it was yours. He grinned, pulling his hand back when you went for it. “You really should be more careful about where you keep your phone.”

You leaned into him, your face a few centimeters away from his, “You really should be more careful about taking my things.”

He taunted you with his eyes without moving and you quickly grabbed his ear and pulled. He dropped the phone out of instinct and you quickly caught it, slamming the door as fast as you could. You could hear a chuckle on the other side before you threw yourself on your bed.

–

Hours later, you had gotten ready and left for dinner. You were going to a new restaurant and apparently the person you were meeting had reservations.

You felt a chill as you walked in as if someone was watching you but you continued towards the door- stopping for a brief second to take in the front of the building.

“Good evening,” A voice greeted after a moment, “Do you have reservations?”

“Good evening,” You greeted in return, fumbling for a moment with your phone, “I’m supposed to meet a Roger Clementine-”

The person checked the list, and nodded, asking you to follow them- and you did, all the way to the back of the place in a more private setting.

You stopped at a table and looked over the person sitting, “Roger?”

He stood immediately, offering a hand out to shake, “Y/N?”

You smiled and shook his hand- a little unsteady and slightly sweaty. Overall good looking, although you could swear you saw signs of makeup, overdoing the first date with a reservation so he could dress in a suit- over trying and trying to look more youthful, signs of a possible divorce. Given the slight tan lines on his finger, recent.

Damn. Sherlock and John were rubbing off.

You sat down and ordered water. A few minutes of awkward but polite conversation later you ordered some food. He seemed nice enough but there was something he was hiding- besides the fact he hadn’t mentioned the divorce or anything about his career. Was he self conscious or was he trying to hide it?

“Excuse me for a moment-” He smiled, standing up to presumably use the restroom.

You sighed a little, checking your watch.

“Just leave.” You heard from behind you and you jumped, your attention snapping towards it.

“Sherlock-” Your brows furrowed and then anger passed over your face, “Did you follow me or did you wait here?”

His features were amused, far too amused. “Followed you. Sort of.” He shrugged, and then looked over his shoulder, “The guy is boring you, you are far more interesting and much more intelligent than he- why are you still here?”

“Just because you’re bored-” You met his eyes, “Doesn’t mean you get to pick apart my life.”

“Not just because I’m bored but because it’s so much fun to.” He grinned as Roger walked in behind him.

“Uh, excuse me…”

Sherlock turned around with a wide fake grin, “So sorry, I think I’ve popped off to the wrong room-” He said apologetically, heading out.

Roger sat down in front of you but your mind stayed on Sherlock. He was strange today and very aggravating. What gave him the nerve to pop in one day suddenly and stalk you? And to give you an opinion about your date while you were still on it?

“Are you alright?”

Your attention snapped back towards Roger, “I’m so sorry, what were you saying?” You smiled towards him, remaining attentive for the rest of the night.

–

At the end, you said your goodbye outside, “This was- really nice.” Roger smiled timidly, meeting your eyes, “I’m sure I seemed off tonight, there’s just been a lot going on and… well, I haven’t been on a date for a while.”

“It was nice.” You smiled to him, trying to calm him down a bit.

He breathed, nodding. “Well, maybe we could do this again sometime.”

You breathed, “I’m not opposed to it.”

“I feel like there’s a but.” He bit his lip, looking over your features.

“I wouldn’t say we’re exclusive yet.” You teased a bit with a wink and he chuckled.

“I gotcha.” He holds his hands up a bit, “Maybe I can take another chance at that.” He teased back, making you laugh.

“Sure.” You grinned, “Good night, Roger. It was nice meeting you.”

“Good night- are you sure you’re okay heading home by yourself?” He asked, a little nervous.

“Oh, I feel like I have a guardian watching over me.” You grinned back, waving and walking away.

A block later, a pair of steps fell in line with yours.

“Did you enjoy the show?” You smirked, turning your head to meet his dark curls.

A smirk formed on his face, “I especially liked the part of me being the guardian.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes, “Of course that’s the part you mention.”

“After being appointed such a wonderful title, one could never forget.” A mischievous grin formed.

–

“Again?” You asked around the toothbrush in your mouth with disdain.

Sherlock chuckled, pushing his way back in. “You should know by now-”

“Why though?” You formed before walking towards the bathroom to spit. He had been making a daily trip to you for the last month and a half, no matter if he had a case or not.

He shrugged, “Getting into a habit, I guess. How’s Rick?”

You finished and moved back towards the living room, “Get out of the habit, I have a schedule change coming at work.”

“Then I’ll have to rotate it, surely.” He frowned a little, “And I’m guessing not well, since you’re avoiding the subject.”

“I’m avoiding having to correct you on his name again, now get out I have to get dressed.”

“So you’re meeting him.” He furrowed his brows, “Now? Why would you…” His face cleared and a smirk grinned, “Oh.”

“Oh nothing, move.” You kicked his leg before moving to your bedroom.

“You’re breaking it off with poor old Robert.”

“You have to be doing it on purpose now-” You rolled your eyes and turned, jumping a little, “Personal space, Holmes.”

He leaned in, his face hovering in front of yours, “You like it.”

“There’s no reason for you to be this close.” You sighed, turning to look at the closet- and getting pulled back towards him.

“Why can’t you humor me more often?” He asked, his breath hot on your face.

“Why do you care?” You asked back, standing up to him.

Frustration crossed his face mixed with something else…he grabbed your shoulders and shook you slightly, “Because-”

You waited and held your breath, your eyes scanning his. When he didn’t continue on, you broke the silence. “Because?” You asked, barely a whisper.

His hands moved around your waist and neck and his lips smashed down on yours. The surprise came over you in a wave and then your hands were moving through his hair. He groaned, pushing you back a little so you fell on the bed.

“You need someone like me.” He whispered in between kisses, “Someone to keep you on your toes…”

You giggled, “Isn’t that who you’re looking for?”

He stopped for a moment, grinning, “You don’t keep me on my toes, you’re predictable.”

“Am I?” Your eyes flashed, moving over on top of him, prompting him to laugh. You kissed his smug lips another time before moving off of him. You stood, removing your clothes and giving him a show before turning around and grabbing a dress from behind you and slipping it on.

“What-”

“Am I doing?” You giggled, winking towards him, “I’m sure you’ve guessed.” You walked out and slipped on your shoes before leaving the apartment.

You walked downstairs and caught a cab, stealing a glance upstairs to see Sherlock’s confused face in your window.

You gave the cab driver a place to go and walked quickly inside.

“There you are, I was beginning to worry about you.” Roger stood from the table to greet you.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke, not giving an excuse you would have to remember- you were still hot from what had happened.

“No worries,” He smiled, “So…” He fidgeted in his seat. You took him in for a moment and got nervous- he was sweating, more than usual, his smile seemed forced.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, taking a small sip of your water.

“I just… I was wondering.” He breathed in, “If you might want to do more with this. With us.”

Your smile tightened and you felt your face flush. You didn’t know there was an us- you had met with him once a week for the last month and a half and didn’t see the need to increase the visits. You internally frowned- why? There was nothing wrong with him, he was nice, clear enough and sensible, albeit a little predictable. Ugh, Sherlock- he drove you up a wall sometimes and nagged you to no ends… no- this was about Roger.

“I-” Your eyes flashed behind him and caught a head of dark curls a table away, making your heart skip a beat, “I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t.”

His face fell and he looked like he was trying to process what happened, “Is it something I did?” He asked and you shook your head. “Did I say something wrong?” His tone got a little darker and a small chill came over you.

“No.” You answered, trying to stay calm, “I just… don’t feel-” He nodded, turning away and slamming his fist on the table.

The rest was an awkward mess that you wish you could say felt like a blur- but it wasn’t. Hours later you slumped into your bedroom and fell face first onto the bed.

Your eyes shut and after a few minutes you must have fallen asleep because you jolted open at a noise in your apartment. Your bedroom door creaked open and your hand snapped under your pillow.

At the same time you spun and shot around the light flicked on.

“Sherlock!” You screamed, breathing heavily, “What the hell?” You lowered your hands.

“Sorry- I suppose I should have rung first.” He gave a smirk.

“You do realize I sleep with a gun under my pillow, right?” You uncocked your weapon and placed it back on the bed.

He chuckled, “Now I do.” He held his hands up defensively, “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“And you wanted to see me.” You stated, sitting down and patting the bed next to you.

He came over to sit down and brushed against you. There was a silence between you for a few minutes before he spoke again.

“You do surprise me. Being around you surprises and calms me. And-” He breathed and turned to meet your eyes, “As terrifying as this is- I feel like I need you.”

“So this is the day.” You smirked, “That the great Sherlock Holmes admits something.”

His face held a serious tone, “What do you think of me? Do you find me as annoying as you say?” He stood, his voice calm but his face a little scared.

“Sherlock-” Your heart skipped a beat as you stood to meet his lips again. As you did, you took his hand and placed it over your heart. “Does that answer anything?”

“It answers everything I need for the moment.” He grinned, pulling you in for yet another kiss.

You pushed him away, “You need to start buzzing in- and we need to get you a bell.”

Sherlock grinned as he walked back towards you. “Lucky for me you’re a horrible shot.” You smacked him before you let his lips get to yours again.

————–

Permanent Tags:

@i-regret-this-already, @breezy1415, @seninjakitey, @imboredsueme, @courtneychicken, @marriedtopeterparker, @imeannooffensebabybut, @marie-lestowell, @cassiopeia-barrow, @daphne-fandom-writing, @notmyfault404, @i-larb-spooderman, @aussiearies

Tags and Requests open! :D

#sherlock #sherlock fanfic #i am sherlocked #sherlock x reader #bbc fanfic #fanfiction #fandoms #writing challenge #thatfanficstuff's favorite things

67 notes · View notes