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taetaespeaches · 4 years

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“I never would’ve thought Agust D would be so soft after sex.”

yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: smut; fluff word count: 3.1K

a/n: ok, so, Kid is ready to give Yoon that good good just after hearing like half the mixtape, our girl hasn’t even seen the damn mv yet guys, like, she’s ready to pounce after just seven songs from her man. And honestly, mood. I hope you lovelies enjoy this, I hope it lives up to your expectations lmao, and thank you for reading :))

YOU paced back and forth from one end of your kitchen to the other as you waited for Yoongi to answer his damn phone. I mean, seriously, how long does it take to pick up the-

“Hello?” Yoongi’s low voice interrupted your thoughts through the phone’s speaker.

Gasping, you eagerly asked, “Can I start listening?” omitting a proper greeting.

“Oh hey, I’m fine, how are you?” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, fully aware he couldn’t see you. “You’re expecting a lot of self-control from me right now, Min,” you complained.

Yoongi allowed himself to chuckle before responding with a humored, “if you want, you can listen, Kid.”

You squealed in excitement, bouncing around in front of the oven. “You’re sure? I don’t have to wait for you or anything?”

“Nah, I’m almost there anyway,” he told you, and you could tell by the tone of his voice he was grinning. “Just no music video yet,” he said in a whiny tone which you knew must be accompanied with a pout. He enjoyed watching your reaction to his music videos.

“No music video, I promise,” you smiled, absolutely fond of the man. “Oh my god, I’m not ready for this am I?” You yelled out, Yoongi scoffing in response.

“Jesus, you’re ridiculous,” he groaned.

“Shush, I’m hanging up, I have a long-awaited mixtape to listen to, thank you very much.”

“Ok fine, fine,” he laughed, but before you could hang up, Yoongi added, “Hey, Kid?” You hummed in response. “Love you.”

You’ve heard the words a million times, but it never failed to make your heart pound. However, that didn’t stop you from teasing him a bit. “Yeah, yeah, love you, I gotta go, priorities, baby. I don’t know if you’ve heard but the Agust D just made a comeback.”

He chuckled into the phone once more before giving you a, “See you in a bit,” and then hung up.

Immediately, you were pressing play on the mixtape on Spotify, already having had it pulled up for five minutes.

The first song, ‘Moonlight’, started off soft before scratching records came in, and then your boyfriend’s voice. When he gave his iconic laugh with an “August D” you smiled in pride. That’s my honey boy.

You turned your attention to the meal you were preparing for you and Yoongi, one of his favorites, stirring the contents in a big pot on the stovetop. Bopping along to the music, you listened to the lyrics that talked about his story, starting in Daegu to flying high with his group, how he goes through feelings of confidence in his work to feeling untalented, the struggles of writing this exact mixtape due to the pressure from a larger audience, expectations, and self-doubt. You knew those struggles all too well. You were with him throughout it all.

You’d been given glimpses of the songs throughout the writing process, some tracks in full while others you only saw lyric scribblings on those yellow notepads he leaves around his studio and that littered your apartment. You first saw the chorus to ‘Moonlight’ written on one of those notepads that sat on your bedside table.

“I like this,” you told your boyfriend, holding the notepad in one hand as the other found its way in his dampened hair, his face resting against your bare chest.

“Huh?” He looked up at you, his hand gripping your waist as his eyelids fluttered. The sheets were in disarray around your still nude forms. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, is it for D-2?”

“Maybe,” he told you with a yawn. “Not sure.”

“I think you should use it,” you told him, your finger outlining the shell of his ear as his lips curved into a lazy smile. “It’s beautiful.”

“You really think so?” He asked, uncertain and a bit more awake.

“Yeah, definitely.”

He kissed the center of your chest before nuzzling his face further against your breasts. “You always know best, Kid.”

You felt your eyes prick with tears as you listened to the song, feeling immensely proud of your boyfriend. Of how hard he worked, of overcoming the doubt and fear, and just simply for the talent, passion, and artistry he shared with so many people.

As the mixtape played, you went through phases of dancing around, squealing in excitement, gasping at lyrics and phrasing, and more bouncing and dancing. You tried your best to focus on the lyrics, though you knew it would take a few listens to catch them all as you were too excited to comprehend everything just then.

Completely invested in the music, you didn’t hear your front door open, unaware of your boyfriend’s presence until he appeared in your peripheral, catching you doing a little strut that resembled Yoongi’s swagger walk he did on stage. Your head snapping to him, you were met with his gummy grin, his shoulders shaking in laughter as ‘Burn It’ continued to play throughout the kitchen.

“Are you leaving me for Agust D yet?” He teased, walking toward you.

“Do you realize how sexy you are? Like do you have any idea?” You asked accusatorily. “Like what the fuck, dude?”

“Jesus,” he huffed, a smile still plastered on his face. “You’re actually ridiculous.”

“Yeah, and you’re ridiculously talented, Min. You’re not told that enough,” you told him seriously. Reaching you, he placed his hands on your hips as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, stepping further into his arms.

“I’m told that plenty,” he dismissed with a bashful grin.

“No, you’re not,” you told him as ‘Burn It’ continued to play. Instead of responding to you, he kissed you which you immediately deepened, Yoongi stepping back a bit by the unexpected force behind your actions, though his arms wrapped tighter around your waist so your body was flush with his.

Pulling away, he chased your lips, making you smile. “I don’t even have the words right now to tell you how proud I am of you,” you told him seriously, tears forming in your eyes. You watched as Yoongi took a deep breath, keeping his own emotions under control at your sincere confession. “Just know I’m really proud,” you said as tears threatened to fall.

He quickly nodded just before bringing a hand to your jaw as he caught your lips again, giving you several quick pecks as he composed himself.

Letting out a breath that sounded to be one of relief, Yoongi peered around your frame, inspecting the food cooking on the stove, as well as the food that had spilled outside of the pot, with a grin. “That looks good.”

“Hopefully,” you said with a smile as Yoongi nuzzled his face against your neck, refusing to let you go. With the overwhelming pride and love you felt, mixed with the fact that the man on the mixtape was all yours, and he was standing in your kitchen, in your arms, pressing sweet kisses to your neck, you had a sudden desire for him.

As ‘People’ started playing, you were instantly struck with the memory of coming to his studio as he was working on that very track. It was just the instrumental then, but it was interesting and different from the other stuff he had been working on. Yoongi must have been thinking upon the same memory as he lifted his head, a gummy grin directed to you as his eyes found yours.

“I remember the night you wrote this,” you smiled, biting your lower lip. That night, you had spent about an hour of it sitting on his desk as Yoongi sat in his chair in front of you, his chin resting on your knees as you both discussed your ideas of life, and people, and changes, and what it all meant, if it even meant anything.

You had already been dating for well over a year, but it was a moment where you and Yoongi felt a closeness between you both that hadn’t really been there before, becoming more mentally and emotionally attune with each other.

The conversation eventually faded out, the intense feeling of understanding between you both leading to you having sex on his studio couch.

“Trust me, I remember it very well,” he chuckled, his mind running through every moment of that night, from the feeling of closeness, to the warmth of your body underneath his as he pressed you against the couch cushions, the way you moaned his name and whispered ‘I love you’s’.

As the chorus of ‘People’ sounded from your laptop, your eyes widened at the sultry soothe of your boyfriend’s vocals.

“Since when do you sing like that, Min?” You teased with a smile, your eyes bouncing around his soft features. As he let out a breathy chuckle, you slid your your hands down his neck to rest overtop his collarbones as you leaned toward him and kissed him deeply.

The action took him by surprise though he easily found his rhythm, his hands slipping underneath your shirt, feeling at the bare skin of your waist.

As you began backing up, he quickly felt around to shut the stove off before following you toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss. Your hands found his waist as his moved to your face, taking control. You began lifting his shirt up, you both separating just long enough for you to pull it over his head and discard it somewhere in the hallway outside your room.

Eagerly, you unbuttoned his jeans, Yoongi helping you get the clothing off him as he released his hold on you to step out of them. Backing up, your legs hit the edge of the bed and you locked your eyes with your boyfriend’s. Smirking at him, you pulled your own shirt off before unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor at your feet.

Yoongi bit his lip, his eyes settling on your chest before slowly dragging them back up to meet your darkened gaze. Tilting his head at you, you quipped, “What are you waiting for?” Yoongi scoffed before approaching you and pushing your body so you fell against the mattress. He reached for the waist of your jeans, taking no time in unzipping them and tugging them down your legs, you lifting your hips to help him. Your panties were removed next, Yoongi dropping them to floor as he allowed his eyes to rake over your body, taking in every inch of you.

You sat up on your elbows, watching the man as he looked over your nude form. “For a man who brags an awful lot about being a king and a boss, you seem a bit timid, baby,” you teased in a sultry tone.

Your boyfriend scoffed again, a smirk forming on his lips. “Be patient,” he scolded, though he stepped toward you, nudging your inner knee with his leg, making you widen the gap between your thighs as he stared down at your center.

“My patience disappeared the moment I clicked play on that mixtape,” you smiled. “I want you.” With that, you sat up, your hands slipping underneath the waistband of his underwear, lowering them until they easily slid down his legs, pooling at his feet. You kept eye contact with him as you left a sweet kiss to his lower abdomen, just above his pelvic area.

He let out a quick breath as he smiled, lowering his body on top of yours, your back meeting the mattress. “If I had known Agust D would get you this worked up I would have released a mixtape two years ago,” he joked, your hands grabbing onto his sides as his lips found yours, kissing you passionately.

One of his arms was being used to prop himself up overtop you as his opposite hand slid down to your core, his fingers feeling between your legs. He groaned into your mouth at feeling how wet you’d become, and you smiled against his lips.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you used your strength to push against his body, rolling him over and straddling his hips. Yoongi’s breath was heavy and shallow as he anticipated being inside you, his large hands gripping your hips, his eyes eagerly taking in the sight of your form on top of him. He always did love you on top.

Placing one of your hands to his chest, your other found his hardened length. You stroked him a few times, Yoongi letting out a soft moan at the feeling, his hand sliding up your abdomen to your breast as he squeezed the supple flesh in his palm. At his touch, you guided him to your entrance, sharply intaking breath at the feeling of him slipping inside, letting the air out in a throaty moan.

“Fuck, Kid,” Yoongi breathed out, pinching your nipple between his fingers as you moved your hand from his dick to his chest, bracing yourself against him as you began slowly grinding atop him. Yoongi’s hand left your breast to your thigh, clutching the muscle as he bit his lip, watching your body move. “You’re so fucking hot.”

You held back a moan as you increased your pace, looking up to the ceiling before squeezing your eyes shut as he hit particularly deep. “Fuck,” you breathed out, lowering your gaze to Yoongi’s face, meeting his hooded eyes as he looked up at you in bliss.

His chest was like velvet underneath your hands and you wanted to feel more of his skin on yours. As if reading your mind, Yoongi moved his hands to your lower back, pulling you toward him so your chest was flush with his. He kissed you messily as he lifted his hips off the bed to move in and out of you as he held you to his body.

“I love you so much,” he confessed shakily against your lips, his breathing erratic due to the pleasure you were giving him.

“Oh my god, Yoongi, I love you,” you moaned, moving your face to his neck where you kissed and nibbled his skin lightly.

Wanting to treat him, you reluctantly pulled yourself away from him, sitting back up as you rocked back and forth on him, arching your back and placing a hand to his thigh to support yourself. Yoongi’s hands grabbed onto the sides of your legs as he watched you, looking more and more fucked out the longer you rode him.

Eyeing his thin but toned body, his smooth skin, and the flex of his abdomen as he took sharp breaths, you groaned. “You look so good,” you told him, admiring the man beneath you. Your man. All yours. “Feel so good,” you moaned.

One of Yoongi’s hands left your leg to find your hand that was pressed against his lower abdomen. He took your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours before bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles softly as he locked his gaze on yours.

The intimate action had your lower abdomen tightening. Sitting up straight, you brought your hand toward him which he grabbed with his other hand, helping you to support yourself as your motions atop him became hastier, approaching your high.

“Yoon, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby,” he nodded, squeezing your hands as you neared your climax. “Me too.”

You let out a whimper, lowering your body to Yoongi’s again, your dewy chest meeting his, Yoongi wrapping his arms around your lower back as you both worked each other into your finishes. Yoongi buried his face in your neck as he let out small muffled grunts, you breathing out a moan in his ear. As he came, he hugged your body to his tightly, letting go inside you. The feeling of him releasing had you crashing into your own high, biting your lip as you moaned breathily, Yoongi kissing your neck sweetly as you came down.

You relaxed atop Yoongi, breathing heavy as his fingers toyed with the small of your back, soothing back and forth along the curve of your ass. You had a hand on his neck, slipping your fingers into his damp strands, your other hand on his chest, dragging your fingers along his pectoral.

“The mixtape is really good,” you assured him in a whisper, kissing his jaw. “Well, what I’ve heard so far.”

Yoongi let out a breathy chuckle, flattening a palm on your lower back. “Thank you, Kid.”

“No need to thank me, I’m just being honest.”

“No, thank you for always supporting me. In everything,” he clarified, emotion thick in his voice.

You lifted your head to peer at his face, catching the glassy shine in his eyes. “Always,” you assured him.

He nodded, looking at you with a soft smile. “I know,” he whispered, barely audible, giving away that he didn’t trust his voice, knowing it would break if he spoke louder. “It means- you mean the world.”

You lowered your lips to his face, giving his plush cheek a small kiss. “I never would’ve thought Agust D would be so soft after sex,” you teased with a big smile, Yoongi scoffing, though he couldn’t hold back his gummy grin.

He groaned loudly, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m starving,” he changed the topic, making you giggle.

“Well, lucky for you, your girlfriend made you a delicious nearly cooked meal that is probably very cold at this point,” you smirked.

“Oh, lucky for me?” He questioned with a small smile.

“Mhmm,” you confirmed with a small chuckle.

Yoongi sucked air between his teeth, ticking his head to the side. “Remind me to wife you up later.”

You scoffed playfully, rolling off his body as you prepared to stand up and find some clothes. “In your dreams, Min.”

Scooping your t-shirt off the floor, you slipped it over your head before grabbing a pair of panties from your dresser drawer, all while Yoongi’s eyes followed your every move. Sending your boyfriend an air kiss from where he sat at the edge of the bed watching you, you walked toward the bedroom door. “Hurry up and get dressed, Gramps, I need your album commentary.”

You exited the room, turning toward the bathroom to clean yourself up. Yoongi shook his head with a chuckle. “Yeah, in my dreams,” he mumbled as he stood up to get dressed. Taking his sweet ass time, you walked back past the bedroom toward the kitchen, noticing him still stumbling around for a shirt.

“Hey, hustle, Min! I still have a music video to watch, my dude!” You called out to him as he looked to you with widened eyes. “Your shirt is out here, by the way.”

“Ah, what did I tell you about patience,” he whined out, a pout on his lips as he walked through the hallway, grabbing his shirt on his way, feeling full of appreciation and adoration for you.

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bibliocratic · 3 years

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muddle along or: the Pokemon / TMA crossover I’ve been promising @speakerunfolding for AGES jonmartin early S4

Jon considers the knapsack left for him.

Exhaustion is already feasting on any clarity he might have obtained in the near quiet. His body stiff, unused to the casual labour of his bones. The storage room, its shelves overburdened, the air vents popping like cracked knuckles, has gained nothing in his absence except a resurgence of dust and, in a dismal corner, a pile of boxes and a suitcase. A pathetic truncated shrine to his thirty odd years of living.

They moved his possessions here, when his rent went unpaid, when his water bills and council tax and internet payment reminders piled up like demanding snowdrift on his mucky welcome mat. Mutely, he glances over the hastily sellotaped boxes that now form his packaged-up life with all the distance that six months of bad dreams have afforded him.

He wonders who packed up his kitchenware, despairing at the mismatched cutlery harvested from student halls and charity-shop finds; clucked their teeth at the bread freckling mouldy in the barren landscape of his fridge; folded his clothes neatly into the suitcase he always kept stuffed under his unmade bed, even pairing up his socks; who took the books off his shelves in the belief he might thumb through them again one day.

He wonders if it was Martin.

Basira gave him the knapsack some hours ago. When he’d found some semblance of normalcy in the dull weight of a sandwich coating his stomach, dressed in clothes that now hang like rags off a coat hanger, sat at the table in the otherwise empty staff room with the heat of a cup of tea cactus-prickling his palms.

“He asked if you’d look after them,” she’d said. The strap of the bag held securely in the jaw of her Absol. “While he’s – well, you know…” She waves an exasperated done-with-it hand that manages to express a multitude of emotions that refract and merge like the morphing shades of a bruise. “Doing whatever the hell it is he’s doing. Or he thinks he’s doing.”

Jon wishes he knew.

He sits cross-legged in front of the storage room door, a sharp-boned barricade, thrumming like a struck tuning fork with the thought that even here, he will not be safe.

Gardevoir is a heavy weight against his shoulder. She’s quieter than he remembers, solemn and sombre in her new form. She used to demand being lifted up when she was Ralts, her flat red horns digging into his chest and leaving impressions, scrabbling down to shelter half-behind his legs when strangers approached. He left for the Unknowing and she’d been Kirlia, her face set and her cries insistent and infuriated, trying to push her Pokeball into his hand to make him bring her with them. Tim hadn’t asked where she was, when they all piled into the rental car, Houndoom taking up one of the seats in the back but snarling when Basira suggested putting her in her ball.

Jon doesn’t know when she evolved. It pains him, a dull-knife strike of thought, another wave against his tide-bashed flood barriers, to have slept through such a moment in her life when every other milestone they shared together.

“Now is a good a time as any, I suppose?” he asks her. His voice traces above a whisper. His Abra has calmed now, drained down from a difficult and teary reunion, and is now breathing deep and slow, curled into the port of his crossed legs. His three-fingered hands are still clenching the fabric of Jon’s shirt.

Gardevoir nods. Then gives him a nudge and a look when it seems as though he’s stalling, when he must be bleeding out apprehension like watercolours seeping through paper.

“Can’t get anything past you now, huh,” he says. She smiles, fond and he manages a short smile back, and it is almost, almost like it was before.

The bag is old, its original function probably for a laptop of some kind. The plasticky outer skin of it has rubbed away, flaking to mesh at the edges, the piping worn down to wires. Jon folds back the front of the bag, and inside there are four Pokeballs, the basic and cheapest red-and-white models. Jon had worked a thankless summer job at a beach-side amusement arcade to save up the money to get Ralts a customised ball, and had done similar when Abra came along a few years later.

To the side of the Pokeballs, ziplocked and labelled, there is a small forest of freezer bags bulging with berries and treats and care equipment. In a plastic pocket, there are precisely written instructions pertaining to each Pokemon and their requirements, and Jon’s throat tightens unexpectedly to see Martin’s looping joined-up handwriting, to see words that seem penned by someone who doesn’t expect to be coming back.

Gardevoir makes a low noise next to him. Her arm alighting on his, a solid weight, grounding. Jon clears his throat and takes out the Pokeball nearest the top, pushing the button on the front so the size balloons to fill his palm.

Most people have one Pokemon, maybe two, unless they’re involved in competitive breeding and training. When Abra came along, he remembers his gran remarking on the upkeep, how it would be his responsibility to feed and care for and train them, and it hadn’t been the cheapest venture but Jon had born the expense gladly. It doesn’t surprise him that Martin has amassed so many in comparison to the norm.

At lunch one day years ago, the weather nipping frost-touched, they’d sat outside a cramped cafe because there’d been no seats indoors, and Martin had confessed that he was always taking them in. Thinking back, Jon knows that Martin was attempting to keep the conversation buoyant, coaxing him away from deeper, darker waters. Jon remembers being irritated, sore-eyed with sleeplessness, his spine strung with paranoia.

“My lost causes, Mum called them,” Martin had said, and his voice had tried for a levity that landed without cushioning. He’d torn off a bit from the end of his panini to feed a hopeful-looking Pidove pecking expectantly around their feet. The cause of the conversational turn, Martin’s newest acquisition, had sat grumpily mewling on the other man’s knee, wriggling and sniping as he tried to feed them some medication he’d got from the vet. Despite himself, Jon had been distracted from miring thoughts of Gertrude by watching Martin’s charade unfold, the man making a show of giving up with a theatrical sigh to scratch the Nidoran behind the ears in a show of defeat, being careful of their spikes. The Nidoran had headbutted his hand whenever his motions slowed to stopping, and Martin had used the distraction to fold a chorizo slice he’d pulled from his panini around the pill, which the Nidoran had happily snaffled from his fingers, gulping it down before returning to demand affection.

“They’ll be all healed up within the week,” Martin had continued, plastering over the continued lull with his chattering. “I’ve taken in a few Nidorans before, they tend to be pretty hardy.” He had scratched under the Nidoran’s chin as his words ebbed with the nudging of an undemanding tide.

Jon had picked at his sandwich as Martin had fold him about hiding Pidgeys and Swablus in an old shoebox under his bed, lined with the nesting material of some of his t-shirts donated to the cause. A chipped-edge bowl borrowed from the kitchen brimming with water and his own early team of Pokemon keeping them company while their wings healed in their splints before they were strong enough to leave again.

These four Pokeballs in the knapsack aren’t just random strays. They’re Martin’s Pokemon. The ones that never left him, the ones that he’s raised and doted upon and taken worriedly to the Pokecentre over every cough and sniffle and fever.

And for the meantime, they’re Jon’s.

Jon presses the release button on the first ball.

There is a chittering surprised coo as an Oddish materialises in a buzz of light and reforming matter. They reform to stand a little higher than Jon’s ankle, only to fold their leaves half over their eyes at the unkindness of the halogen strip light. They totter when they take a step, tumbling to sitting with an affronted noise before, with a determined heft, they rock themselves up to standing again. Jon’s seen Martin’s Oddish before, approaching every walk around the assistant’s office space like a tightrope. Tim had bought them a little plant pot as a novelty Christmas gift once, and they’d unironically loved it, hopping into it cosily and getting specks of soil all over Martin’s desk.

Their leaves are poked through with ragged little holes, like they’ve been nibbled away, the green tinged in places to a sickly yellow. In the bag there is a vial of luminous blue medicine, complete with dropper and application instructions. It’s a stress thing, he dimly remembers Martin had once explained to him. It’s like an eczema, of a sort, that afflicts Grass-types, but it affects Oddish’s balance when it flares up.

The Oddish looks at Jon. They don’t have a neck as such, so they lean their whole bulb-like body backwards on their stumpy legs to study Gardevoir, who gives a reassuring blink. They glance around the storage room and its uninspired treasures of boxes and the unpromisingly weak-seeming metal frame of the cot, with a fretful shake of their leaves. They’re expecting to see someone else.

“Hello,” Jon says. He clears his throat, attempting to present a friendly face, to avoid the grimace he senses forming at his discomfort, his presentation to a critical audience that is already finding him wanting. “I’m… well, I’m Jon. You’ve probably seen me before, I’m um… I’m a f-friend of Martin’s. He’s, well, he’s not here at the moment. But he asked me to look after you. While he’s – he’s away.”

Oddish blinks their beady round red eyes. Their leaves wave uncertainly with the lazy swish of palm fronds. They coo again, a longer sound, plaintive and stretched out in melancholy. They take the opportunity to look around again, a full-body swivel that has them unbalanced, but Gardevoir leans down with a careful hand to steady them upright.

Jon watches them amble off to study their surroundings. Every so often crying out in a searching noise. Gardevoir keeps an eye on them as they rootle around in one of the boxes they can reach.

The next few releases are equally unsuccessful. Skitty reforms only to barrel under the cot as a pink-and-white blur, slinking further back with his tail swishing furiously whenever Jon addresses him. One undamaged ear twitches anxiously. The next Pokemon fails to materialise at all, refusing to leave their ball.

This was a mistake. Martin should have known better, known him enough to see that he would be no good at this, his skills in offering comfort atrophied. He can barely take care of himself, these days. Never mind additional charges who are scared, who need reassurance that is rendered rusty in his throat.

He reaches out to cradle the last ball in his cupped palms. He knows who is inside. The youngest of Martin’s acquisitions, and as far as Jon was aware, full-on adverse to getting inside a Pokeball. Their favoured mode of travel was Martin, using him as a climbing frame while he attempted to work, kicking their little feet against his forehead, clinging giggly to his mop of hair to get a better view, squealing shrill and disruptive and delighted when Martin would playfully shake his head to rock them. He thinks with the uncertainty that memory offers him, that Sasha had loved them, lifted them and pretending to throw them while they chattered and babbled, snuck them berries when Martin wasn’t looking. Jon has paid ear to more than one lecture from Martin on nutrition and proper feeding times and sugar levels. They might have played with Sasha’s own Pokemon, like they had tottered after Houndour’s short and wagging tail when she was out of her ball, like they had ran after Skitty to join in games, but that memory has been scratched from recollection like initials scored out of tree bark.

They were by nature vocal, rambunctious, unthinking and unheedful of danger, a child really, and Martin had been forever apologising when Jon would find them where they weren’t meant to be, carrying them back cautiously and carefully to Martin’s fretful hands. He thinks Martin had thought that they had irritated him. It hadn’t been that. They had been so small, smaller than they should have been for their species, the runt of some litter abandoned or lost by their parent or cracked and emerging blinking from their egg over-early. They had been so curious, and the world of the archives had grown increasingly unsafe around them. Jon had worried, in his own poorly expressed way.

He presses the button, and aims at the ground. Martin’s Togepi manifests in a fizz of red light and sound crackling like champagne.

They turn around with a confused noise.

Jon gets the chance to voice an awkward, low-pitched ‘hello’ before they take one look at him and their face clenches upset, breath starting to bubble with sobs.

“Oh, oh, nonono, hey,” Jon says, scooping them up into his hands. Abra is dislodged, wakes up startled and teleports a few feet away with a ‘pop’ of displaced air. “It’s… nonono, shush, it’s alright.”

Big messy tears fall out of screwed up eyes. Hitching sobs lengthen into wails. Jon looks frantically at Gardevoir as he rocks and shushes the bawling Pokemon against his chest in a way Martin was so much better at.

Martin would know what to do, what to say. How all this could work out for the best. But Martin isn’t here.

Jon’s own eyes dampen.

“Shshshsh,” he croaks thickly. “It’s – it’s going to be alright. I’ve got you.”

He uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the worst of the tears. He strokes the top of Togepi’s head.

“It’s going to be alright,” Jon repeats.

Many hours later, Jon wakes up, cotton-mouthed and his back vengeful for the position he’s slept in. His legs, still crossed, have degraded to numbness that he’ll pay for as soon as he wants to stand. In his lap, he sees the matryoshka doll set up that’s occurred, Togepi exhaling with little whistling breaths into Abra’s chest, Abra’s face planted against Jon’s shirt. Skitty has emerged from his defensive fort under the cot to coil into a ball of heat, curled up in the crook of Abra’s overhanging tail. Gardevoir is half-awake in that dozing but alert way she has, and she must have turned off the light in the room because it’s dark except for the emergency glow from the fire-exit sign that casts the walls and floor in an unsettling green. Jon sees the husk of an opened Pokeball, the shadow of something small and yellow crouched on Gardevoir’s shoulder, and something inside him eases, just a little bit.

Oddish is looking up at him from the floor. Jon moves the only hand he has that’s not squashed under Abra, and when he sets it down they alight with an unsteady gait and he transfers them to the higher terrain of his knee. He rubs a careful finger along their leaves until they sit, their head nodding as they struggle to stave off sleep, although they still glance around with uncertain eyes.

The room has dropped colder. Oddish shivers along with Jon.

“I know,” Jon says. “I miss him too.”

#tma #the magnus archives #fic #jonmartin #pokemon #pokemon/tma crossover #no spoilers #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #things I have been unable to stop thinking about #jon and his ralts #martin and togepi and his expanding collection of wayward charges

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slashersins · 4 years

Text

the boys get blow jobs

because we are filthy and wanted to see what we would come up with @august-burns-red & i decided to write three of the boys we love getting sick blowies . here’s my set , let’s see how these boys hold up !

thomas hewitt

it’d been a couple of rough days at the slaughterhouse for tommy . he’d been stomping and grumpy and shoving you off , even for the cuddles and slight heavy petting and kissing the pair of you had started enjoying . you knew his job could be stressful , especially when it came to management and the jeers of others .

you wanted to help him , cheer him up a little , but there were only so many ways to get tommy out of one of his moods , and they only worked half the time . usually a kiss or seventeen , sitting in his lap and stroking his neck while he guided your clothed hips over his , had been your best bet at cheering him up . maybe it was time for something a little more drastic ? maybe he just needed a pick me up or something ?

your mind swarmed with all the little things you could do . bring him lunch and steal kisses from him in between bites of food . maybe you could sneak into his room tonight ? the kitchen door was never locked and it wasn’t like luda minded you coming over so long as you were quiet enough . maybe he needed a confidence boost ? should you just show up at work and kiss him stupid in front of all those people ? show them that tommy had someone who wanted him ? you huffed , laying back on your bed , arm over your face as you tried to figure out something to do . and then and idea popped to mind . it was risky , and tommy might be mad at you , but probably not for long . and it could cheer him up . with a mischievous smile , you were quickly tugging on your boots and rushing out the door .

thomas stomped back to his station after his miserable lunch . it was taking everything he hand not to reach out and bash the heads of the bastards he worked with against the walls . why they decided that after months of leaving him be that they would suddenly start harassing him again would of been a wonderful question , but thomas was smart enough to know that there wasn’t an answer that would matter .

dragging a chunk of dead pig closer to him he raised his cleaver bringing it down with more force than necessary , once , twice , before wrapping the perfectly carved leg into brown paper and putting it to the side . he’s about to pick up his cleaver again , ready to repeat the same motions until he could head home and get away from this place , when he feels a tap on his leg .

glaring down he takes a half step back , only to see you peak your face out from under his work bench and give a little wave . he frowns , brows furrowed in utter confusion . what were you doing under there ? how long had you been there ? were you just being silly ? now wasn’t the time for that , dammit . he wasn’t wanting to deal with these silly games .

he’s about to reach down and pull you out , but you tug his pant legs as if to tell him to come back closer to the bench , putting a finger over your mouth telling him to hush . he settles you an annoyed look but finally relents , stepping back to his work bench and sighing .

“HEWITT ! GET BACK TO WOKR YOU LAZY BASTARD !”

thomas tenses , letting out a low growl . you wince under the table , patting your man’s leg and giving his thick thigh a squeeze , anything to show him that you’re sorry and that he doesn’t deserve to be yelled at . thomas doesn’t give a response , just picks up his cleaver and starts cutting the meat . if you wanted to stay under his bloody , filthy table for unknown reasons , so be it .

it’s a few minutes of you just rubbing and squeezing thomas’ thighs under his apron , trying to get him from a boil to a simmer before you continued , and you could tell from the way his cleaver was being used with less force that he was appreciating the company and attention . you give him one last pat on the leg before you carefully shift so you’re under his apron . he tries to pull back , but you slip your fingers into his belt loops and keep him in place . he can’t be gathering any attention . at least yet .

there’s no going back now , you think as you unzip tommy’s pants and quickly fish out his cock . you can feel how he tenses , and from the look of how he starts to twitch in your hand you can tell that he’s curious . you only hope he doesn’t pull away . luckily the back of the room , in the corner , hiding behind a hulking man and under his apron , you were pretty much hidden to the world . and right now nothing to you existed expect you and tommy’s cock .

you’d felt it before , pressing against your crotch or ass as you and tommy dry humped and rutted against each other , but you’d never seen it . and oh , if it wasn’t a pretty sight . you only wished it wasn’t in the dark under his apron , so you could truly admire it . but now wasn’t the time , no , right now you had to somehow stuff this behemoth’s length into your mouth .

the first kiss to his tip has him stilling completely , almost stopping in his breathing . the entire situation took such a turn that tommy wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not . he was left reeling as you licked against the slit in his tip , pulling back his foreskin to suckle so fucking sweet . just like you did to his tongue when he was lazily tracing the inside of your mouth .

it takes everything he has not to make a noise when you suckle on him , the cleaver in his hand shaking in his tight grip . he hasn’t moved an inch since you started , muscles tense as you pepper kisses along his shaft . those soft warm lips . . . he’d kissed you so many times , even had his thumb kissed and licked by that pretty pink tongue of yours , but he didn’t ever imagine this . he never thought you’d want to use your mouth on him like this . you hadn’t even used your hand on him , and yet here you were . in the middle of the day , in a room full of bastards and lowlifes trying to make a days dollar , kissing and suckling and licking at his cock like it was some treat from his momma’s store .

“HEWITT ! GOD DAMMIT , GET TO WORK !”

the snarl he let out , reverberated through him . and you jumped a little , quickly rubbing a hand up his thigh to fist his pant leg . best keep him here . keep him still . you waited a moment , hearing the man previously shouting at tommy giving a stammering , get back to work now , in a weaker almost terrified voice at the way tommy had snapped at him . and you felt tommy move , and then heard and felt the solid thunk of the cleaver cutting through meat and bone . it’s only then that you decide to go back to your teasing and exploration , hoping like hell that you didn’t get tommy in any more trouble . but then again , maybe that’s just what your tommy needed .

thomas works , cutting through meat a bit sloppier with your lips on him . it seems the fact that he keeps getting yelled at for being distracted isn’t stopping you from lavishing him with those sweet kisses . and fuck , he wants to buck his hips , to feel more , to pull you out from under the table to kiss and rut against you . but he settles for this . this little secret . he lets out a grunt and a hiss , cleaver digging harshly into the table when you take him into your mouth , the velvet heat of it all but melting him . he has to grip the table to keep from bucking , to keep from spilling into your sweet little mouth right then , and then you take another inch . he huffs out , shakily gripping his tool as he decimates the meat on the table , not caring about the quality so long as you swallow him down just a bit more .

you don’t take much more , and tommy wonders if he’s too big for you . and that thought causes him to shiver and lean against his work table . what did you look like under his apron ? were your lips stretched around him ? swollen and pink and wet ? did you want to take more ? were you just going slow ? would you look up at him the same way you did when you whispered his name , rocking your hips against his for relief from the ache you both felt ? he tried to imagine in , shoulders shaking as his hips jerked a fraction , causing you to make a little noise that has his balls twitching and precum leaking heavily from his tip . fuck , what did he do to deserve this ?

it seemed like you were picking up on his signals , wrapping your hand around that part of him you couldn’t fit , stroking his heated flesh so sweetly while you started to bob your head up and down . already you could taste the thick saltiness of precum , it stuck to your mouth and mixed with saliva making it wet and sloppy , a bit easier to move him in and out of your stuffed full mouth . your jaw was already aching , but it felt so good that you just pressed back further and moaned so soft and sweet . it had tommy jolting , hips rocking forward as the cleaver , or something else hit the table with a harsh thud .

tommy grunting , trying desperately to keep working and failing miserably . how could he focus when that sweet mouth of yours was moving up and down his cock , when that tongue flicked over his tip when you pulled back ? when you rubbed your tongue along underside of him when you pushed onto him ? when you moaned so sweetly that he could feel the vibrations . your eager hands squeezing his hardened flesh as massaging his heavy sack . how the fuck was he supposed to do anything else but snarl in pleasure ?

the manager was coming back , thomas could hear his voice as he started back towards him , but he didn’t care . all he cared about what how you started to suck him harder , faster , desperately as you moaned louder , almost too loud . someone could hear you , and people could definitely hear him . his grip on his work bench was white knuckled , body trembling with how utterly overwhelmed he was . he wouldn’t be able to last much longer , and one particularly harsh suckle had him letting out a loud grunt , the wood of the table creaking under his grip as he spilled inside your wanting mouth .

he cums more than you thought he would , and it chokes you . somehow you managed not to cough or gag , and with no real way to hide or clean up the evidence of what you just did you somehow manage to swallow what you can . you know your face is a mess , feeling cum dripping down your chin , and you don’t want tommy’s still leaking cock to stain his pants so you try to suckle his tip to get as much into your mouth as possible . what mess made it onto your hands you wipe on your shorts , using your shirt to clean your face quickly before you give tommy’s cock one last kiss before tucking him away .

“Hewitt what the fuck is wrong with you ? Why the fuck are you being a fucking lazy ass -”

thomas growls at them , half turning , but you pop out of the table next to him before he can do much about the yelling . you know that they’re gonna think you’re a whore , a two bit slut , but fuck , at long as they think you’re tommy’s you don’t care . and this is the type of ego boost you want to give your man .

you smile at the startled expressions on the faces of the manager and floorman , ignoring the hoots and hollers from other workers . “sorry . guess lunch took a little longer than i thought .” you lift up , kissing tommy’s masks cheek before happily walking out of the building , a flush on your face so bright you might as well as be a strawberry . you can only hope that tommy’s in a better mood when he gets home tonight .

brahms heelshire

“i promise you’ll like it . i just wanna try it . okay ?” you give a smile to brahms , who is currently pouting with his arms crossed over his chest despite the fact that he’s naked with his cock out only inches from your face . you almost want to laugh at how fussy he looks , sitting up and leaning against pillows , legs spread like you asked him , even with the mask on you know he’s glaring at you . towing the line between impatient child and demanding man .

you didn’t know how he hadn’t read about this yet with all his filthy romance novels , but you’re happy that you can show him . even if he is glaring at you . “brahmsy , please ?” you stroke his cock with one hand and his breath hitches , hips jerking , fingers digging into his arms , but he still puts up the fussy act . you sigh , lifting up to kiss the lips of his mask only to pull away before he can grab you .

there’s a growl , deep and angry that comes from the man above you , a hurry up and get whatever it is over with so i can fuck you , kind of growl . one you know all too well from times you spent teasing him too long . so you decide to give him what he doesn’t know he wants and wrap your lips around his pretty cock .

the sudden change from annoyed to shocked is evident in the startled noise he makes . how his hips jerk and he slips an inch more inside of your mouth . it might be cruel of you to overwhelm him , but you give a suck , hollowing your cheeks around the few inches you have in your mouth only to pull back with a pop and lick around his tip .

his hairy chest is heaving now , hands moving from being crossed over his arms like a fussy child to digging into your hair and gripping hard , making it so you can’t move away from him , not that you want to . you coo softly at him , taking his tip into your mouth again , and then in one go , take him to his base . you’re thankful of his size , not so thick it makes your jaw ache , and long enough to only make you gag a little . but oh , you love how he feels inside of your mouth . and from how he grunts and moans above you , you know he loves it too .

his grip in your hair tightens , holding you still and on him as he twitches and shakes . it’s so much like being inside of you , and yet so utterly different . and the way you move your tongue and suckle and swallow around him . he’s dizzy . before he knows it , he’s bucking his hips , fucking your face with all his might . he needs it . he’s never known this before . if he had he would of tried it so much earlier , without your prompting .

you can’t help but gaps and moan around him as he uses you . it’s not the way that you’d planned this on going , but the pure excitement and bliss brahms’ showing you is more than enough to make every harsh thrust into your mouth worth it . somehow you manage to wrap your arms around his waist , holding him close so he jack rabbits into your mouth , sucking and licking and moaning around him .

he’s fast to cum , barely lasting a few minutes before he’s spilling into your mouth , hips still moving so desperate that it’s hard to swallow and not make a mess over him and the sheets . it’s a few more moments before he stills , panting and letting go of your hair in favor of petting your head . you smile , lips still connected to his cock by a sting of saliva and cum , only to be broken when you ask , “did you like it , bramsy?”

vincent sinclair

his gaze makes you tremble . eye blown dark with lust and want as you look up at him . you almost feel ashamed at being so eager to be on your knees for him , at wanting to taste him for the first time and please him . and oh , you were worried about not doing good enough . you must be showing it on your face , because vincent’s hand ups your cheek , rubbing his thumb over your lips soothingly .

his gaze is no less intense as he presses his thumb past your lips to rub against your tongue . he knows what’s to come . he knows that pretty mouth of yours , the one he is captivated by , is about to be wrapped around him in the most intimate of ways . he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t excited at the prospect . and oh , he wanted to memorize this moment , almost tempted to grab his sketch book to he could capture how utterly flustered and wanting you were . but instead he merely saves you the trouble of getting him out of his pants . he doesn’t need to stroke himself , he’s already hard . he had been since the moment you knelled down between his legs .

he guides you , wondering if you’d ever done this before , wondering what it would take to kills those who’d felt your lips before him . he wanted this pleasure for himself alone , maybe that was selfish , but he was a selfish man when it came to you . he doesn’t let his mind linger on that , instead he focuses on how you swallow and part your lips , letting him guide your face closer so that you can take just the smallest bit of his tip into your mouth .

the feel of his silken tip against your lips makes you moan . all previous embarrassment forgotten as you rub your tongue over his tip . your eyes flutter closed , wanting to savor the feel and taste and you mouth at him . lavishing his tip in affection and sweet sounds before you look up at him through long lashes . the intense want in his eyes making you all but mewl .

you keep your hands in your lap , wanting to only get him off with your mouth , as you take him inch by inch . you know you don’t have to , you know that you might gag and it might be uncomfortable as he slips into your throat , but you don’t care . you need to have him fully inside of you , you need him .

vincent exhales sharply as you gag around him , fingers brushing through your hair in praise , urging you to take your time despite knowing you’re desperately stubborn and will push yourself . so he keeps you there . right where his tip is tickling the back of your throat for a few moments longer before he allows you to take more of him , and oh , if your mouth was heaven then there was no expression for the pleasure of being fully seated and feeling how you swallowed around him .

he doesn’t tears his gaze from you , even as your eyes are shut tight . you make such a pretty picture . so beautiful and perfect as your eyes flutter open and you glance up at him in a way that asks if you’re doing a good job . he only pets your hair , presses his thumb to the side of your mouth as your lips stretch around him . the noise you make , high and keening around his cock has him grunt out . you must have no idea how utterly captivated he is by you .

you can’t help yourself . you can’t stop yourself . vincent’s eyes are too intense , too passionate , the way he strokes your hair too gentle . you have to move . you have to worship this man in anyway you can . so you pull back , sucking and lapping at his sides and pressing hot kisses to his flesh before taking him back into your mouth and bobbing your head .

his hips jolt , rocking just so slightly that you almost miss it . you’re too busy working your mouth over him , too busy trying to all but face fuck yourself on him to notice how his abdomen jumps , how his hand tightens in your hair , how he’s panting harshly leaning forward to watch you work yourself over him .

all you know is that the feeling of his heated length spearing your throat and filling your mouth is utterly addicting . a sensation that has you humping your hands as you desperately try and get vincent to come undone . your eyes flicker up to him , and the look on his face makes you sob around him .

his twisted lips part , hair hanging over his shoulders and framing his handsome face , eye hard and black with want as he watches you with a look so intense that you want to pull off him and sit on his lap and let him have his way with you . but you manage to push that desire to be utterly taken by vincent down in favor of getting him to cum from your mouth .

you can tell he’s close , and he tugs at your hair , trying to pull you off , but you only whine and press forward , shooting him a pleading look that has a broken growl coming from his ruined vocal cords . with new fevor you work your mouth over him , deep throating him and swallowing harshly , hallowing your cheeks , moaning and humming until finally he’s spilling inside of you .

you cough a little , the feeling strange , as you try to hold as much in your mouth as you can . it’s filthy , but you want to show him you were able to get all of it , and when you part your lips to show vincent how you collected his seed he looks as if he’s ready to climb on top of you and imprint himself inside of you with everything he has . you can’t help it . you swallow everything and watch that dark look darken .

you don’t need to ask if you did a good job , you already know you did , vincent makes it clear as he lifts you off the floor and into his lap , fingers moving over your lips as he leans in to taste himself on you .

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt imagine #thomas hewitt x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms heelshire x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair imagine #vincent sinclair x reader #slasher #slashers #slasher imagine #slashers imagine #slasher x reader #slashers x reader

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slashersins-abandoned · 4 years

Text

the boys get blow jobs

thomas hewitt

“HEWITT ! GET BACK TO WOKR YOU LAZY BASTARD !”

it takes everything he has not to make a noise when you suckle on him , the cleaver in his hand shaking in his tight grip . he hasn’t moved an inch since you started , muscles tense as you pepper kisses along his shaft . those soft warm lips … he’d kissed you so many times , even had his thumb kissed and licked by that pretty pink tongue of yours , but he didn’t ever imagine this . he never thought you’d want to use your mouth on him like this . you hadn’t even used your hand on him , and yet here you were . in the middle of the day , in a room full of bastards and lowlifes trying to make a days dollar , kissing and suckling and licking at his cock like it was some treat from his momma’s store .

“HEWITT ! GOD DAMMIT , GET TO WORK !”

“Hewitt what the fuck is wrong with you ? Why the fuck are you being a fucking lazy ass -”

brahms heelshire

vincent sinclair

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scarofthewind · 4 years

Text

Slashers x Reader || Cockwarming

A/N: I LIVE!!! Sorry that I haven’t been updating, life has been hectic. My work is still open even though we are a non-essential place in this plague that’s going on. What a better way to make it go by faster than to read/write about my favorite boys! Hope you people enjoy! Warnings: COMPLETE FILTH, R18+, female pronouns

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Leatherface (Bubba Sawyer): At first when you suggested the idea to the man, he looked at you as if you were crazy. A quick shake of his head caused you to frown. “Why not? You can’t say you don’t like it if you have never tried it.” You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorframe as you stared down at the man. Bubba shook his head again and ran a hand through his curly hair, his attention going back to the TV. With a list of profanities leaving your lips, you stalked over to the man and straddled his lap, letting him wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on your shoulder so he could still watch television. “Bubba please?” You whined seductively, making him sigh in defeat.

“Fine.” He mumbled, letting you get up and quickly take your pants and underwear. He worked on freeing his cock from his jeans; he barely managed to pull it out before you sunk down on him, making him let out a ragged moan. Within the first five seconds of this, he hated it. How could someone enjoy this? He wanted nothing more than to thrust up in to you as soon as he’d entered. “Hate it.” He grit his teeth and winced as he felt you tighten around him. His hips involuntarily jerked up, making you moan.

“I thought it might be a fun experience...” You let out another moan, feeling so full of him, yet not pleased. You cupped his face, moving some hair from it before kissing him. Bubba let out a low groan, his hips once again moving on their own. You got the message and for the life of you, couldn’t understand how anyone could just sit here like this. “It’s okay, Bubba, just take me.” It only took the blink of an eye for him to have your back pressed against the couch and his thrusts were making you call out his name.

Jason Voorhees: You had absolutely no idea where he got the idea of cockwarming in his head, but you were all for it. The heavy rainfall outside made it to where neither of you wanted to get any work done; you just wanted to be lazy. It was nearly two o’clock but you both were still in bed; your back pressed against Jason’s chest and your leg lifted high enough for him to bury his cock into you.

Jason let out a soft moan, letting your leg move back down. His arms wrapped tightly around you as they pulled you tighter against him. Soft kisses made their way up and down your neck and you shuddered, soft pants leaving your lips at the newfound pleasure. There was something so erotic about this to both of you, but also something soft and sweet. To Jason, it felt more like a full connection, that he was inside you, feeling every bit of pleasure you were getting out of this and he didn’t want it to end.

Jason has very good self control so you expected him to be patient and good at this, and oh how right you were. Not once did his hips move on their own or did his breathing changed. For a moment you thought he was asleep and turned your head to look back at him; his eyes meeting yours. He kissed you softly, feeling you tighten around him as his hands moved around your body tenderly. It felt like forever that he was still inside you, your body didn’t know how much more you could take. He wasn’t a teasing man, so when he saw how desperate you were after the longest half hour you’d lived, he finally gave in, slowly moving his hips into you, enjoying the pleasured moans and gasps you were emitting.

Michael Myers: “You have no idea what you just asked me for.” Michael warned as he pulled you by the arm up to the bedroom. It only took you but five minutes to realize your mistake. Michael had incredible amounts of self control. So, while you were sitting in his lap, his cock buried deeply inside you, he was simply reading a book, perfectly fine with this idea that you gave him.

“Michael please-” You whined, trying to move your hips, only to have him force them to stop.

“No.” He said, his voice sending shivers down your spine and making you tighten around him. You watched as Michael looked up from his book and over at you with the evilest grin you’d ever seen. Michael was a king when it came to teasing. Shutting his book, he tossed it to the side and slowly began to touch you. His lips would kiss your skin, and his hands would move around on their own, but never give you what you wanted. “Do you like this, (Y/N)? Being a good little cock warmer for me.” He hummed and you let out a whimper as he nipped at your neck. “The way you tighten around me, I think you do.”

“Stop please, I need you, Michael.” You panted. Michael could feel how wet you were and how much of a mess you were making as it started to drip on the sheets.

“You do?” He feigned care, kissing your lips gently and moving his hand down your stomach to your clit.

“Yes.” You breathed out, anticipating the moment where the pads of his fingers would rub slow circles on your clit. But, it never came.

Michael pulled his hands away from you and reached over to get his book, ignoring your disappointed stare. “You’ll sit there and take what you asked for until I’m ready to fuck you.” You made a mental note to never bring up a sexual idea to this man again.

Brahms Heelshire: “I can’t do this anymore, Brahms.” You whined, pulling on his shirt as you sat in his lap, his cock hitting all new, deeper, places inside you.

“You can and you will.” He sighed, feeling a new warmth spread through him as you tightened around his shaft. “Just a little bit longer, I promise.” He cooed, kissing your lips softly and resuming his painting. You bit your lip and nuzzled deeper into his neck, your arms wrapped around his neck and your front tightly pressed against his. Brahms could hold out a lot longer than you could, but he always was breaking at the sight of your tear streaked face. However, he was determined to make this long as he truly enjoyed the feeling of his cock being embraced by your warm insides.

“You’re doing so well for me, (Y/N).” You whimpered, at his sentence, wanting nothing more than him to pound you into next year. “Such a good girl for me. I’ll have to reward you once I’m done.” Brahms was gifted at praise, that was for sure.

“Brahms please, I need you.” You trembled, feeling his hand caress your back. None of this was painful, but the pleasure building up but not being able to be released was killing you. Your eyes stayed on the small clock next to the piano and you continued to watch as minutes and then hours went by.

It took two hours exactly before he finally stopped painting. Brahms set his paintbrush down and wrapped his arms around you, bringing your face to his and peppering kisses all over it. “You did a good job, my love. I’m so proud of you.” He wiped your tears from your face and he brought his lips to yours, finally caving in to your needs.

Charles Lee Ray (Chucky): This man took the term cockwarming to a new and brutal level. Charles was sitting in his spot on the sofa, a TV tray in front of him and dinner on top of it. The TV was playing an old movie but his eyes were only focused on you between his legs, mouth stuffed full with his cock.

“You still breathing doll?” He smirked and you rolled your eyes. Thank god he broke your gag reflex a long time ago. You moaned around him in response which only made his hips jerk up slightly. “Don’t do that.” He glared at you, moving the hair from your face.

“God you look so fucking pretty like this.” A blush formed on your face and you could feel your fingers move towards your panties. “Hey, what did I say about that?” He snapped, making you whine. “Don’t worry doll face, I will give it to you good later. Just keep my cock warm until I finish dinner, okay?” You nodded and ignored the pain in your jaw. Little did you know, his dinner would never get finished. Charles may talk big, but he has absolutely no patience. It didn’t take long before he had you riding his cock like no tomorrow.

Norman Bates: “Why would anyone want to do that?” He asked when you brought up the idea.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun to try. If you don’t like it then we don’t have to do it again.” You wiggled your eyebrows at the man who only sighed in response.

“If I agree to this, you make dinner tonight?”

“Deal.” You smiled, kissing him. You both settled on using the bedroom to test this idea. Both of you were laying on the bed, legs intertwined and bodies pressed together. Heated kisses between the two of you were shared but nothing else.

“I can’t do this, it’s torture.” He groaned.

“Norman it’s literally only been eight minutes.” You panted as he kissed your neck.

“Eight minutes too long. I need to move, (Y/N). I hate this.” He practically whined, his hips moving slightly.

“You don’t like it at all?” You asked, “I think it feels good.”

“Of course it feels good. I just need to move. I can’t sit there inside you like this, it feels like you’re milking me-”

“Christ, Norman I get it.” You laughed, moving some of his hair away from his eyes. “Cockwarming isn’t for everyone.” Norman groaned at your comment and nuzzled his face into your chest, kissing your breasts softly.

“I do like it better when you hit deep inside me anyway. You can move.” You barley finished your sentence before he was thrusting into you.

Leatherface (Thomas Hewitt): You blinked up at the man who towered over you. Setting down the knife you were using to cut some vegetables, you stared at him for another moment.

“Well?” He asked, his eyes not meeting yours.

“Oh, Tommy,” You made your way over to him, bringing him down to your level. “Bashfulness doesn’t suit you.” You took his hands and pulled him upstairs. The steaming bath felt good against Thomas’ stiff muscles. His cock burried deep inside you also felt very good. Almost too good for his liking. “I’m not hurting you am I?” You asked, worried that you might have be too tight around him. It did take some prep before he was able to even fit himself inside you.

“No. It feels good.” He said, moving a hand through his hair. The content-ness the both of you felt was nice and you managed to have a few different conversations before he noticed that you were starting to really feel it.

“Do we need to stop?” He asked, pulling you closer and ignoring the water that fell from the tub that was now lukewarm.

“I don't want to ruin the moment for you.” You shuddered, feeling yourself tighten around him.

“You could never do that to me.” He said, kissing your lips and slowly moving you up and down on his cock. “Plus I've been wanting to fuck you silly since I first entered you.” You let out a soft moan as the tip of his cock hit a good place inside you. This man was going to be the death of you.

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orbitariums · 4 years

Text

winter with a weasley | fred w. + black fem. reader

i was tired of searching high and low for hp imagines with black readers so !! here goes my own :) send me recs of hp writers who write for black girls!!!

reader is a black woman and a ravenclaw!

happy holidays <333

word count: 5k

The pitter patter of snow could be heard from inside the dimly lit library, wet snowflakes streaking down the window panes of the large window beside you. The night sky was falling upon you, twinkling stars forming around the top of the castle. The air was clear, no fog to be seen, but your eyes were glazing over as if you were in the midst of a fog storm anyway, your nose buried deep in a copy of “Winograd’s Wondrous Water Plants.” You blinked away the sleepiness clouding up your eyesight, stifling a yawn. The candle in front of you threatened to burn out, and you flicked a lazy finger towards it, the flame rising once again. You were grateful for the cozy, thick sweater Luna had knitted you, protecting you from the slight chill that was penetrating the glass window. You pulled it closer to you, though its warmth threatened to make you fall asleep.

You had hardly realized that your cheek was dragging against your palm, and that your eyes were feeling droopier than ever, until you were jolted to a start when you heard Harry Potter’s voice from beside you. He was standing at the side of the otherwise empty library table that you were sitting at, a book clutched beneath his arm.

“There you are, everyone’s been wondering where you were. Well, mainly Fred,” Harry admitted, his eyes glancing at you, hunched over your book with nothing but candlelight in front of you. “What’re you doing in the library anyway, exams are over.”

You pushed your shoulder blades back, relieving some of the tension in your body from being curled up with books for hours after classes had ended for the winter break. You were slightly relieved to see Harry, as you were starting to get sort of a headache from all the words jumbling up together on the page. You replied with a small smile.

“Just doing some after-exam review, that’s all. I want to see what I missed, if anything.

That way I’ll know what to study harder for next time, that’s all,” you shrugged, and Harry couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

“Just like Hermione,” he noted. “I’m only in here because I’m returning a book. Fred will think you’ve gone mental, studying after exams.”

You chuckled to think of the pink-faced, tousle-haired Weasley twin. He was crazy about you, and everyone knew it. You, on the other hand, were far too focused on your studies to pay him any real attention. He was a distraction, and a horrible one at that— you’d never ace your exams if you were with him, he’d probably have you helping set up him and George’s next prank. Your playfully unamused demeanor towards his advances didn’t stop him anyway, he still teased you and flirted with you every chance he got, because no matter how much you told yourself you shouldn’t have a boyfriend, he always caught how bashful you became at his flirtatious remarks.

“Well, he’ll survive, won’t he?” you shook your head playfully, and Harry nodded in the other direction, out of the library.

“Take a break, we’re having a little party in the common room, you should join us,” Harry suggested, and you took one glance from your books to the lanky boy in front of you before sighing and closing your book. Why not?

When you clamored through the entrance to the common room after avoiding the Fat Lady’s attempt at a poor rendition of Deck the Halls, you were met with all the holiday cheer you’d ever need for a lifetime. The Gryffindor common room, already in the Christmas spirit with all its red furniture, was draped in Christmas lights and holiday wreaths. The sound of holiday music blasted through the room, bewitched so that it was unable to be heard by passersby, in the hopes that no one would break up their little party.

The smell of baked goods wafted past your nose as you entered, and you found your stomach growling— you’d spent lunch studying, hardly eating a thing, and you’d skipped out on dinner to huddle up in the practically deserted library. In the corner of the room was a tree that changed colors each time someone passed by it, and you could see aggravated gnomes shuffling about on one of the window sills, griping about how they were forced into itchy, tiny holiday sweaters. The room was warm and full of Christmas cheer, and you could even spot a student with a permanent drizzle of snow over their head, covered in a coat and a beanie with white flakes spotting the top.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, covering your mouth with your hand. You were glad Harry had gotten you out, otherwise you’d probably still be in the library half-asleep. This was much, much better, and you weren’t just saying that. You could see Hermione and Ron approaching you, broad grins on their faces.

“There you are! We were hoping you’d show up,” Hermione gave you a hug, followed by Ron.

“Harry says you were in the library. Honestly, I don’t understand you two,” Ron said, meaning you and Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes while you just chuckled, though you were promptly distracted,

“Well, I’m here now. Is that treacle fudge?”

You headed over to the table of food in a hungry daze, your mouth threatening to water the closer you got to it. You were stacking on food onto a holiday themed plate before you knew it, chicken legs smothered with gravy, greens, cornish pasties, pumpkin sandwich cookies, and treacle tart. You were about to grab utensils, your eyes focused on the table below you, until you were barricaded by two all-too-familiar figures on either side of you. You sighed in exasperation, looking up at Fred Weasley, who was in front of you, then turning to George Weasley, who was directly behind you.

“Fancy seeing you here!” George exclaimed, a wide grin on his face.

“Really, would’ve thought you were gonna be a no-show!” Fred cupped your shoulder with his hand, spinning you to face him.

“Though, how could he miss you?” George started, making you turn again to face him this time.

“You positively light up the room when you walk in,” Fred answered George smoothly, spinning you by the shoulder yet again for you to face him.

You were dizzy from the amount of times the twins had you spinning this way and that, but you steadied yourself in enough time to wag your finger disapprovingly at Fred, the main culprit in all this,

“Must you always surround me?”

You reached for a fork and a knife, but Fred conjured both from his robes pocket, teeth sparkling as he grinned widely at you.

You rolled your eyes, but took the fork and knife anyway, muttering a thanks.

“Really though, where were you?” Fred asked, following you even as you walked away, side by side.

“The library,” you answered shortly, and Fred stared at you, shaking his head in clear disdain,

“Honestly, woman, don’t you ever take a break?”

You turned to face him, snickering as you rolled your eyes and took a bite of your treacle fudge,

“Don’t you ever take a break?”

Fred smirked, poking underneath your chin with a coquettish finger,

“Not from you.”

You couldn’t help the heat that flooded your cheeks even if the response was corny. Fred Weasley was always quick on his feet, and never one to back down from a challenge. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like him in the way he so obviously liked you. It was so amusing to watch, even if it could be annoying— no matter what, Fred was shamelessly, devastatingly in love with you. He wasn’t embarrassed to be turned down, or to show it in the only ways he knew how: through poking fun at you and using the most annoying, yet memorable pick up lines in the book on you.

“I’ve noticed,” you cocked your head with a smug expression, and Fred only shook his head, gearing up to say something just as smug as you until he was interrupted by the soft hum of Luna Lovegood’s voice as she zoomed up behind you, happy to see you wearing her sweater.

“YN!” she exclaimed, her voice wispy and cheerful as usual.

You turned to face her, completely dismissing Fred, who decided he’d get you back later. You engulfed her in a hug, and the two of you got to talking, dancing, and sharing a jug of butterbeer that George had smuggled in.

You had finished the jug and your food, and you were laying back on one of the couches in front of the crackling fireplace, which was roaring high with orange-hued flames. You were tired, but the good kind, not from spending hours hunched over a book this time around, but from partying and eating so much you could hardly move. Ron, on the other hand, was sitting on the floor in front of you, scarfing down another turkey leg.

“Honestly, Ron, do you ever stop eating?” Hermione hissed on the floor beside him, and Ron frowned, whining through a mouthful of food,

“It’s the holidays, Her-my-knee, let me live for once.”

Apparently, it was now time for the gift giving, which the Weasley twins were in charge of emceeing, and they were making a very big deal of it. Each time someone was up to give a gift, they used their wands as microphones, their voices booming around the room as they called the names of the people meant to collect their gifts from the receiver. Harry had gotten Ron a Chudley Cannons quidditch shirt, you already had Luna’s sweater and you had given her a pair of flying sneakers to make flying that much easier. All the gift-giving and receiving was quite lovely to watch, and everyone ended up satisfied. The twins had made sure no one left empty handed, giving people goodies that would probably turn into toads in an hour or two.

“And now, the last present of the night, and we truly do save the best for last,” George announced with a proud, thunderous voice.

Fred eased up beside George like a sneaky weasel, George throwing an arm around his shoulders. Fred had something in a sparkly, glittering gift bag, and everyone was intrigued, leaning forward to see what it was.

“Take it away, Freddy,” George patted Fred’s shoulder, then slinked away so Fred could have the floor all to himself.

“This gift goes out to a special someone,” Fred wiggled his eyebrows, deliberately making his voice deeper, and everyone started to hoot lowly. “A certain little smartypants Ravenclaw girl who has my heart.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes playfully and looking away from Fred, who had zeroed in on you.

“She’s a bit shy,” Fred joked, making the room erupt in laughter.

“Go on!” Luna prodded you, her eyes twinkling as she smiled at you.

You lugged yourself up off the couch and got up, making your way over to Fred, who was standing in front of everyone next to the color-changing Christmas tree, which burned a passionate red when you stood in front of Fred.

“You idiot,” you remarked playfully, and he only grinned, handing you the bag.

“See what’s inside, won’t you!” George hollered, and you glared at him before opening the bag.

Inside was a flower in a pot full of red soil. Not just any flower, but perhaps the most beautiful flower you’d ever seen. Its leaves, a pale pink color, seemed to shine, light radiating off of the petals and basking your face in a warm glow. The petals were fat and wide, spiraling at the end into little hollow heart shapes, all of which were of varying colors. As it got closer to the center, the colors of the flower grew into deeper myriads of pinks and purples. You had never seen such a plant before, and you were a top herbology student, plants and flowers were your specialty. It was so beautiful, and probably rare as well. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but nothing like this. You were so surprised, you half expected it to be a prank of Fred and George’s, thinking it might transfigure into a mole rat.

The rest of the students in the packed common room were just as shocked as you were, gasping and whispering amongst themselves, immediately enamoured by the unique beauty of the flower that made cooing noises in your hand like a little puppy.

“Fred,” you gasped, looking up at him with widened eyes.

“Thought it’d fit you, know you’re into plants and all that smart people stuff,” Fred grinned, clearly satisfied with your reaction.

“I-it’s amazing, I-”

“That’s not all, he’s got more for you in the bag!” George cut you off, and Fred shoved him playfully, laughing,

“Shut up, you bloke! Let her see for herself.”

You ruffled through the bag, which was indeed full of your favorite sweets— honeydukes chocolate, pepper imps, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored Beans, chocolate frogs, and more. You could hardly generate a response, your mouth stuck open in an o-shape. You liked Fred, but you didn’t expect this from him.

You chuckled, still shocked, and grinned, bemused,

“Fred, this really is a lot, I honestly didn’t expect it. I-I don’t know how to thank you!”

Before you knew it, you were lunging forward to embrace him, hugging him tight in front of everyone. He was lucky he could cover his face in your shoulder, because he was red as a tomato. You gazed at the flower in your hands when you pulled away, still entranced by it.

“‘M glad you like it,” Fred murmured almost shyly, the first you’d ever heard him sound anything other than cocky.

You frowned, truly feeling terrible— you weren’t expecting anything from Fred, and so you didn’t get him anything. Now you felt horrible, standing there empty handed when he’d just given you the most thoughtful, beautiful gift.

“Oh, Fred, I didn’t get you anything!” you bemoaned, your eyebrows furrowing together. “I feel horrible.”

“‘S alright, you’ll make it up to me,” Fred smirked, leaning back against the wall of the fireplace and folding his arms.

The room filled with a plethora of suggestive “oohs” and “ahhs”, and when you turned to face Ron, you saw he had gone red from watching his brother flirt with you, meanwhile Harry was stifling a laugh, and Ginny was burying her face in her knees while Hermione rolled her eyes. You looked back over at Fred and couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head slowly.

“I just might have to,” was all you said, George leaping onto Fred in celebration.

After the gift giving was over, well, it had ended with you, (and it really was best for last), the party started to wind down as people began to say their goodbyes and make their way back to their dorms. Most people would be going home for Christmas, but you’d be staying here at Hogwarts, scraping by with the few friends who would still be there. But, you weren’t getting away with it that easy. While talking with Fred, George, Hermione, Ron and Harry, you mentioned how you’d be staying in the castle for break. They all made an uproar in disagreement, shaking their heads and complaining.

“That’s rubbish, you’ve got to at least come to our place over break,” George threw his hands up, and Fred nodded vigorously— you couldn’t help but think this had been on his mind the longest.

“Yes, do come to The Burrow, I’ll be there as well,” Hermione insisted, clutching your arm.

You smiled, looking around at all the needy faces. You hadn’t expected them to be so welcoming, it was already a full house. You didn’t want to intrude, “Won’t your mom be so busy? I mean, all of us? I don’t want to make her holiday stressful.”

George scoffed,

“The woman will make it stressful no matter what.”

“Really. Besides, mum loves you,” Fred persisted. “She can’t get over me being with a smart Ravenclaw girl who’ll keep me out of trouble.”

You snorted,

“But I’m not with you.”

“You will be,” Fred shrugged, unbothered, and you refused to meet his eye because you knew you wouldn’t be able to restrain your smile if you did look at him.

“Come on, just come with us! We’ll be leaving in a few days and get there just a day before Christmas Eve, that’s more than enough time to pack your things,” Ron demanded, and you couldn’t help but give in, your body shaking with laughter.

“Alright, alright, I’ll spend the holiday with you.”

The circle of friends erupted into cheers, and you grinned, your sparkling eyes meeting Fred’s, who was truly glad he’d have you there for the break.

Things were really beginning to wind down shortly after, and you were getting ready to head back to your dorm and go to bed. Luna had already left, and you were one of the few people still remaining. You’d spent the rest of your time talking to that circle of friends, though Fred got next to you whenever he could and talked your ear off. When you were on your way to leave, holding your gift in its sparkly gift bag from Fred, you turned around at the sound of footsteps thudding behind you. It was Fred, running up to you, coming to a stop in front of you,

“YN, wait. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

“Sure,” you grinned warmly.

You and Fred left together, walking side by side in the dark, winding halls of the castle. You talked quietly, Fred taking any chance to make you laugh, and you did laugh each and every time. You stopped in front of your dormitory and stood there, facing each other, not quite saying anything, just smiling stupidly at each other. It was almost humorous how you tried to avoid your fate with Fred, knowing you liked him back. But you always beat around the bush, because you were really a very studious girl and you knew Fred Weasley would just be a distraction. But you knew he wasn’t that bad. How could he be?

“Well,” you sniffed awkwardly, cupping your gift bag in your palms.

“Welllll,” Fred echoed, dragging out the word and making you laugh.

“Really, Fred, thank you, I can’t imagine how you even got this, it’s beautiful, really.”

“Reminded me of you.”

“Oh, Fred,” you groaned, making a face like you’d just tasted a sour lemon and laughing. “You’re so cheesy.”

“But you like that about me,” Fred squinted his eyes at you, as if he was seeing right through you.

“I can neither confirm or deny that statement. Your head might explode if I confirm,” you teased, and he simply nodded in agreement.

“You’ve got a point.”

“Really though, how did you get this? I’ve never seen such a thing before. Don’t tell me you stole it from Professor Sprout.”

“Honestly, how much of a git do you think I am? I’ve got my connections, that’s all. It’s special, keep your eye on it.”

“Alright,” you grinned, sniffing the fragrant, honey-nectar scented center of the flower. “I’ll leave you be. I really do feel bad that I didn’t get you anything though. If I’d known I would’ve-”

Fred shook his head,

“Oh shut up. Of course I had to get you something, all I wanted this holiday was to get you something you’d like. And you like it, don’t you?” You nodded, and he smiled. “That’s all I need.”

You smiled, pleased, then sighed,

“I really should get going to bed though, and you should too, it’s nearly curfew.”

Fred merely shrugged carelessly,

“Meh, I’m on break, who gives a rat’s ass what Filch tries to do.”

“Okay, Fred, whatever you say,” you grinned, shaking your head playfully at his devil-may-care attitude. “Goodnight, now.”

“Goodnight,” Fred smiled at you.

You started to turn to your dorm, but you turned back at the last second, saying his name,

“Wait, Fred?”

“Yeah?” he replied, only for you to lean forward and kiss him softly on the cheek, pulling away slowly and blinking ever so gently. Blush was rising up his cheeks steadily, and he looked like he had melted on the spot, gawking at you.

You smiled, satisfied with yourself, and spun around, actually about to leave this time,

“See you in the morning!”

That night, you could’ve sworn your flower grew at least an inch taller, and you hadn’t even done a thing to it.

In the few days you had left at Hogwarts, you and Fred had been spending an awful lot of time together. You were actually taking the time to get to know him, because deep down you knew it was what you both wanted. Each time George passed by you two talking in an empty corridor, he coughed, “lovebirds!” And finally, it was time to leave. You all boarded the train back home, you sharing a car with Ginny and Hermione while the boys stayed with each other, though Fred passed by every hour or so to try and amuse you.

“D’you like him, Fred?” Ginny asked, leaning her head against the cool train window.

You looked down at the table, unable to hide your smile,

“Yeah, I do. And he knows it.”

“I think you two would be cute,” Hermione beamed, glancing up from the newspaper.

“I have to say, Fred’s never picked a better choice,” Ginny smiled.

The holidays at the Weasley house were hectic, but they were lovely all the same. George didn’t lie when he said his mother, Molly Weasley, made holidays stressful, but it was the good kind of stress. You were never bored, or lonely for that matter. You always had something to do, whether it be crusting pies, helping Molly magically wash the dishes, pillow fights with Ron and Harry, or listening to Hermione go on and on about her marks for her exams. Besides, Molly really did love you. She kept gushing over how smart and well-behaved you were. And you were convinced Fred had lied and told her you two were a couple, because any time she saw you and Fred together, she cooed, “you two!” and snapped a picture, leaving you blinded by the flash of her old camera.

It was probably the most bustling Christmas you’d had yet, and everything was going well.

The afternoon before, Molly had cooked a wonderful feast to be scarved down for tomorrow, and she put charms on all the meals to keep them warm and protected from the boys, who she knew would try to sneak down and take a bite before it was time. You sauntered around the kitchen on Christmas Eve. It was nighttime, and the kitchen was pitch black except for the light emanating from the tip of your wand. You opened the fridge, trying to make yourself a glass of warm pumpkin juice before bed. You’d stayed up late reading, thinking everyone else had gone to sleep. But you were wrong, and you gasped when the kitchen light turned on suddenly.

You jumped, clutching your chest and breathing in and out, only to see Fred laughing in the corner of the kitchen. You sighed in relief,

“Jesus, Fred, you scared me. Thought I was the only one up.”

Fred cocked his head to the side as if he were examining you,

“Late sleeper?”

You nodded,

“Sometimes. Why are you up?”

“I happen to be a late sleeper myself… and I heard your footsteps going down to the kitchen.”

You quirked a brow, amused,

“So you followed me?”

“This is my house, if anything, you’re following me,” Fred defended himself, folding his arms.

“I’m only joking, Weasley,” you snorted, continuing to fix yourself a glass of pumpkin juice.

“I like when you call me that,” Fred remarked, and you pretended not to hear him, but your cheeks were hot as ever.

He got closer to you, standing right beside you at the kitchen counter and leaning against it, watching as your hands shook out of nerves while you poured your juice. Since when did Fred make you nervous? And why was being close to him making you so lightheaded? He was looking at you, but you refused to look at him, keeping your eyes trained on your glass, not even noticing when it almost overflowed because your thoughts were elsewhere.

Fred, who had his cheek pressed into his palm, smirked, and did a onceover of you.

“Need help?” he taunted you.

You chuckled nervously, huffing,

“No?”

“You sure?” he asked, almost challenging you to look at him.

You turned to face him, rolling your eyes, but you weren’t prepared for him to be standing up, towering over you. You took a deep breath in, while he simply grinned. You looked up at him, blinking rapidly as if there was something in your eye.

“Here,” Fred leaned into you, and you froze, only to realize that he was just pulling out his wand and tapping it against your glass.

When you picked it up and took a drink, the pumpkin juice was just as warm as you’d wanted it to be, and you didn’t even need to heat it up like you were going to.

“Thanks,” you grinned, your eyes flickering from his to the floor.

“Should be getting to bed. Happy Christmas Eve,” Fred gave you a slick three fingered wave and slinked away up the stairs, leaving you there to exhale a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You were in over your head, for sure.

On Christmas morning, you were the first one up, surprisingly. You got ready as quietly as possible, passing Hermione’s cat on the way to the bathroom as you got ready. For Christmas, you decided you’d dress nicely, putting on a well-fitting orange turtleneck with a black miniskirt. You headed down the stairs silently and found yourself in the kitchen, holding your plant in your hands so you could place it on the window in front of the sink and let it get a bit more light there.

You paused when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and when you saw Fred, you bit down on your lip. He grinned at you, dressed in his personal Christmas best, a sweater with “F” emblazoned on it that his mom forced him to wear every holiday season, and black skinny jeans.

“Hey,” was all he said with a knowing smile, and you grinned.

“Hi.”

“You’re up early,” Fred remarked, inching close to you so the only thing separating your body from his was the plant you were holding in between the two of you.

“You are too.”

“Funny coincidence.”

“Yeah. You’d almost think you were trying to catch me alone,” you narrowed your eyes at him playfully, a smug smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Fred played along.

“You’re a real joker, Fred Weasley.”

“I know,” Fred agreed. “But I’d be a real Scrooge if I didn’t make one tiny little

improvement to this Christmas.”

“And what’s that?” you chimed.

Fred tapped his wand just above him, and lo and behold, a mistletoe flower appeared out of thin air, levitating above your heads. You looked up at it, holding your gaze on the plant for a few seconds before giggling, looking down at Fred who was smiling at you.

“Merry Christmas,” he remarked quietly, his brown eyes peering into yours, inching his head forward, spreading his warmth.

“Merry Christmas,” you practically whispered just in time for his lips to brush against yours, tilting your head forward to engulf him in a slow, sweet kiss under the mistletoe, the light shining in from the kitchen windows, a healthy amount of snow falling outside.

His lips tasted like peppermint, and he smelled like mischief, but you wanted to hold him close. His sweater was scratchy and warm and thick, bristling against you. He was tender with you, his hands reaching up to roam your face, caressing your cheek and pulling you in closer to him by the small of your back, the petals of the flower in between you pressing against your chests. After a while, you pulled away, Fred’s cheeks red as ever, and your entire body on fire. You weren’t sure why you’d held back for so long, because now that you had a taste of him, you wanted more and more. When you pulled away, you blinked a bit, coming back down onto earth. When you and Fred met eyes again, you both giggled stupidly, clearly high off each other’s touch.

When you looked down at the plant, you noticed it had grown inches taller suddenly, and you looked down at it in bewilderment. It had done the same thing after you parted ways with Fred the night of the holiday party in the Gryffindor common room.

Fred answered the question you were about to ask,

“It’s an Amorfluous flower. It’s meant to be given as a gift from one lover to another, so that each time we kiss, it grows.”

You were in awe of Fred. Not only had he managed to get you a gift that was extremely fitting for you, but he got you one that was even more sentimental than you had managed to realize. You were amazed, and you looked up at him awestruck, tears threatening to form in your eyes.

He chuckled at the sight of you and hugged you close, careful of the flower,

“Don’t cry!”

“It’s- it’s just so lovely,” you sniffled, wiping away the tears from your eyes. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

Fred smirked,

“You’ve made it up to me, the lack of a gift.”

You chuckled,

“Good.”

“Er… should we kiss again? For the flower, of course,” Fred suggested, nodding down at the flower.

“Yes, of course. For the flower,” you grinned knowingly and leaned in again, your lips uniting in a sweet kiss once more.

#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley x black reader #fred weasley x reader #hogwarts #christmas imagine #harry potter x black reader #black reader #reader insert #poc!reader #black!reader

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yunhowhoitiss · 4 years

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𝐜𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐮𝐦

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐦)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k+

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, fantasy au (?), slow burn, angst if you squint, ft co-worker jongho :)

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You’re finally starting to make ends meet when you start working at your school’s local café, but the world is so full of surprises.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader panics a bit(?)

𝐚/𝐧: I came up with this at 4am a couple days ago so it’s not my proudest, but I felt bad just letting it sit in my drafts so here you go :) enjoy!

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The gentle smell of freshly baked pastries, accompanied by the stronger aroma of ground coffee beans, wafted through the comfy café. There was a constant chatter as customers scattered around the joint whilst waiting, disguising the soft hum coming from behind the coffee machine. Your face was out of sight, except your hair peeked out above the espresso machine where you were pouring a latté, entertaining yourself by decorating a small heart in the foam. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your eyes turned to soft crescents when soft wisps of your hair had fallen out of your bun and across the sides of your forehead. The steam floating from the cup caressed your hands as you picked up the mug along with an assortment of macaroons.

“Order for Julie: four macaroons, a chai latté, and an espresso affogato, extra dry!” You announced through the coffee shop, turning a few heads.

You made your way back to the station to continue other orders but stopped as you noticed something missing; you had run out of cinnamon to top off drinks. Your coworker ought to know where another carton would be, so you turned towards the kitchen to find him wrist-deep in bread dough.

“Jongho, where are the extra containers of cinnamon again?”

“Oh, those are in the grey cabinet below the pastry display,” he smiled back, all the while kneading the dough.

Flashing him an ‘ok’ sign, you headed back to the front of the shop. You hadn’t been working at the Crescent Café very long, but you happened to be a pretty fast learner, according to Jongho; you could make latte art before other trainees could even make a latte. Quickly getting back to work, you served a customer until something caught you eye whilst jotting down an order on your notepad; had the writing been on your wrist all day? It must just be something I wrote down earlier, you thought.

As the sun made its way towards the horizon, you returned to the comfort of your small apartment to freshen up, eat dinner, and momentarily forget your academic responsibilities— homework, ugh-- before heading to school again the next day. You entered you apartment with a relived sigh and threw your keys onto a nearby dresser, mumbling "I'm home" to nobody in particular. Too lazy to go to your room, you simply undressed as you walked towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothing behind you. Note to self: clean that up later.

The moment you stepped into the shower, your shoulders loosened as the hot water washed away your tension. The writing on your wrist caught your eye again. Scrutinizing the messy handwriting, you saw what seemed to be a shopping list.

“Eggs, lucky charms, and aftershave,” you read aloud.

Aftershave? I don’t use that. Could it be… you were lost thought, not noticing the warm steam filling the bathroom. You rubbed at your soapy skin frantically in an attempt to wash off the pen, to no avail. Lately, although rarely, you’d started to notice small bruises or random marks on your skin; you’d never seen writing, though. You briefly wondered if there was possibly another person causing this, but you only saw such things in movies or books... right?

Your heart rate started to pick up, and a heavy sensation built up in your chest. It isn’t possible, it can’t be. The cramped space of your shower started to feel suffocating. Nearly slipping, you jumped out of the shower and dried yourself off. You got dressed in whatever shirt and sweats you found hanging around your bedroom. Was something wrong with you? Am I imagining things? I’m not going crazy, right? Worrisome thoughts flooded your mind as you spiralled deeper into a panic. Calm down. Don’t skip to conclusions. You threw yourself onto the bed. In and out. It’s that simple, you consoled yourself. Slowly but surely, you felt your heart come to a rest.

When you lifted your hand up above your head the writing was still there, unchanged. So you weren’t losing your mind. Could somebody else be the cause of this? Was someone else somehow writing on your skin? No, you felt stupid for even considering the thought; otherworldly things like that only happened in comics or movies. Nevertheless, it was the only possibility that made sense to you in the moment. You let your curiosity get the best of you, and paced towards the living room to grab a pen off the coffee table. On your right hand, you simply wrote "Hi," in hopes of eliciting some sort of response.

The following day proved to be a rather sunny, warm Monday, but you had to spend your time in a closed lecture hall. The cold-toned ceiling lights were much too bright for your liking, and the monotonous professor spouted information maybe only a handful of people were genuinely listening to. That morning, you had woken up to find the list on your wrist gone, leaving only your own message from the night before. You started to think you'd really had a hallucination of some sort.

Half an hour into the lecture, you were already bored out of your mind and absentmindedly sketching intricate doodles on your notebook. I should just give up on biochemistry and become an artist, you mused to yourself. You remained focused on your art, while marks started to take shape on the back of your hand. Your soft eyes widened almost comically at the sight, and you shot a brief look to the people around you to make sure they hadn’t seen anything. Whipping your head back to your hand, you saw that the words stopped writing themselves, leaving a short message saying “Am I going nuts?”

Wondering the same thing yourself, you jotted down a response below it: “I dunno, you tell me,” followed by a cheeky smiley face. If this really was real, you might as well make a good first impression.

Weeks trickled into months as you made short exchanges with your newly discovered friend. Some nights you would write “good night” followed by a drawn heart, earning a sweet “sleep well” in return. You would frequently wake up to thoughtful words written on the palm of your hand, or you'd kindly ask your companion how they were doing when you had a quiet day at work. Even so, all you had learned about this person was their name, age, and that they were a student as well. Yunho was a twenty-one-year-old elementary education major with a minor in physiology-- he also worked as a dance teacher on weekends. You still didn’t know much about each other, so the messages never went further than greetings and simple conversations.

Be that as it may, you liked it like that. Your relationship wasn’t complex; it felt comfortable and pure, and you didn’t want to change it.

Mellow spring afternoons at the café had always been your favourite. The wispy clouds in the sky were painted a buttery yellow by the slowly setting sun, and a steady stream of nearby students stopped by for coffee. Your new friend had sweetly noted "It's golden hour. Made me think of you," on your palm, leaving you in a bubbly mood. You had started your shift by drawing a heart on your wrist, hoping your secret companion would see it.

You worked by the espresso machine as usual, humming to yourself as always. The bell rang, indicating that customers had arrived; it was a group of what seemed to be three guys and a girl.

“We’ll be right with you!” you called. You turned towards the kitchen. “Jongho, can you take their orders?” Silence. “Pretty please? I need to clean up my station.” you persisted.

“Fine, yeah,” you heard your colleague grumble.

As you tidied up behind the machine, you felt as though someone was watching you from the counter. You lifted your head curiously, meeting a pair of inquisitive doe eyes coloured a soft hazelnut brown. The warm eyes instantly turned into friendly half-moons as the boy smiled shyly upon being caught staring. You hurried back to cleaning up your station, hoping to hide the pink tint of your cheeks, but the red shade consuming your ears gave you away.

Jongho handed you the cups for their orders and walked over to the pastry display. You got started on a hot chocolate and three iced americanos, getting back into your “barista brain,” as you liked to call it. After finishing the drinks, you called out "Three iced americanos, a hot chocolate, and two blueberry muffins!”

You turned around to grab straws, and you overheard one of the guys say “I’ll grab ‘em, you guys can stay here.” You made your way back to the counter, looking up only to be met with the boy from earlier. Butterflies littered your stomach, fluttering up into your chest. “Oh, um, here are some straws,” you smiled gingerly.

“Thanks. Could I please get a sleeve as well?” he asked, “For my hot chocolate.”

“Of course!”

As you handed him the cardboard sleeve, his hands caught your eye. Not only were they the most beautiful hands you'd ever laid eyes on, but the boy had a heart drawn on the valley of skin between his left thumb and wrist, exactly where you had drawn one on your own hand just a while earlier. He seemed to recognize the message on your palm as well; a confused expression ghosted over his face. Gathering all your courage, you nodded towards his hand and did your best to form a coherent sentence. “That’s—”

“Your heart,” he interrupted, “Right?”

You giggled softly in response, barely containing your excitement.

“Right,” you smiled down at your feet in an attempt to hide the bashful grin that pulled at your lips. A hand popped up in front of you.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. My name’s Yunho-- Oh, but you know that already, don’t you?” Yunho chuckled sheepishly. You looked up and slipped your hand into his, shaking it gently. His hands were warm, fingertips ever so soft.

“Nice to meet you too.”

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crowleyellestair · 4 years

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Silence For Happiness - Geralt

AN/// Sorry for the wait, work and life has been eating away at me. This week should be a large fic dump though, so expect content!!! Thank you for that fact, as I wasn’t aware. This actually make my heart flutter reading that, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart : ) I hope you like it. I tried to make it more playful at the end

For the wonderful @theichabbieclub

Making baby sounds as an adult woman was weird. It had to be believable, to an extent, and she had to make it seem like it was coming from the bundle in her arms. Truthfully, there was a child size log with a bomb resting in her elbow, swaddled like a child, though their target wouldn’t know the difference. Y/n’s eyes darted from tree to tree while trying to look inconspicuous, shushing the log while bouncing it somewhat. She could hear the snapping of twigs and rustling bushes, though her head stayed forward. There would be no back up until the thing was in the open, though she had yet to receive the signal that Jaskier and Geralt had made it. Y/n scolded herself, reminding herself that she was a warrior, and she traveled with the White Wolf. She could handle anything by herself, and since there was no real child to take care of, she would be fine. There was a plop behind her, alerting her to the thing stalking close. It was go time.

Y/n lit a match against her leather belt, lighting the fuse. Keeping the bundle wrapped, she quickly kneeled, placing it on the ground. She swiftly started to walk away, only looking back one the thing stopped walking after a few paces, its claws picking up the blanket. Y/n sprinted a few more steps away as the bomb went off, flinging her cape up to shield herself from any stray silver shrapnel. The twisted entity in front of her shrieked, from both pain and the realization that the child was fake. When there was no witcher jumping into the small valley, she knew she was on her own. Y/n quickly charged the beast, silver saber drawn. The creature’s long nails swung, but wasn’t fast enough for Y/n to miss a parry. The warrior was reduced to only defensive measures as the beast was relentless. Soon enough, when Y/n had landed enough blows, the creature made a death throw, going all in. It charged the warrior, grabbing her by the vest, talon like hands digging into her shoulders. Her back hit a tree, and the creature pulled back, bringing her along. Again and again the beast slammed the woman into the tree, starts filling her vision, air fleeing from her body. With every strike against the bough, she could feel her spin rattle, and pain shoot through her ribs. After a handful of strikes, she finally noticed the large piece of shrapnel sticking from the deformed woman’s collar bone, and her hand shot out to push it in. The creature dropped her, and she rolled to her sword, swinging at the thing’s legs. She swiftly cut her down, taking of the thing’s head once and for all. Cuts throughout her vest and shoulders were the only visible injuries, though the internal damage was immense.

Jaskier burst through the bushes, lute raised, but his crazed eyes found her sitting, trying to catch her breath next to the headless creature. He dropped it, Geralt bursting through the bushes next, holding a similar swaddle. Her rows raised, trying to take her mind off the pain, silently questioning the bundle in her lover’s arms and the brown, red spread over her best friend’s figure.

“Animals. Dead animals everywhere. I took this part of the contract thinking I’d come out clean for once-.” Geralt’s scoff cut him off, though his tone was soft, and she recognized it as the tone he uses with her wrapped in one another’s arms.

“You didn’t have a choice.” Jaskier swaggered over to the beast’s body, poking it with his foot before holding out a hand to her. She declined, but motioned to the water skin on his hip, trying to take the attention off of how quickly she denied his help. If she was going to get up, it would be on her own time. She could barley breath as ribs were definitely broken, but she would take inventory in a moment. Though, all thoughts of that ended once the bard’s thumb jabbed backwards in the air towards the slowly moving Geralt.

“We found the kid alive and well. A happy ending for all. Do you think we will be named the kid’s Godly parents?” Y/n’s eyes never left the witcher, her heart speeding up once more, and drowning out Jaskier’s voice. Wide amber eyes were entranced, staring in wonderment down to the bundle in his arms. His entire upper body was stiff, and he was walking as he would when sneaking up to a monster with heightened hearing. A small hand poked out, trying to grab at the lose white hair that swung invitingly over the child’s face. His brows furrowed upwards, looking almost frightened at the outstretched hand. The pain she felt ebbed away at the sight, nothing existing except the love of her life holding the child.

Much ran through her mind in that moment, many things consisting of the future she wished to spend with the witcher. She knew a kid wasn’t in the cards, but somehow, she would try to convince him to collect his child surprise. There didn’t need to be a cottage, stable job, thriving garden or lazy Saturdays to make Y/n happy. She simply needed Geralt in her future to make her future complete, and his happiness was hers. The glow of reigned excitement was familiar to her, often seeing it in her witcher’s eyes when he looked upon her in public. Y/n tried to be as much as she could for the man, though she was aware she couldn’t be or bring everything. But she would try her damndest.

She was taken out of the frequently repeated vows to bring the witcher light and contentment by the brunette plopping down next to her, and bumping his shoulder into hers. Pain flooded the forefront of her mind, and a gasp came tumbling from her lips. Worry painted Jaskier, and Geralt made for her, but stopped when he heard the child in his arms gurgle. Worried eyes flew over her form, and she steeled her looks to present a smile.

“Claws in the shoulder ‘s all.” He gave an unconvinced nod, but looked back down at the child. She slowly got to her feet, giving the same smile to the bard and began down the path where they had decided to leave Roach. Jaskier continued to hover, making the baby giggle, and Geralt was truly perplexed. Y/n wasn’t going to do anything to ruin the time the witcher had with the small child in his arms, so continued to keep her mouth shut about her ribs and back. Once the trio had gotten to the mare, Geralt had a bashful smile gracing his features. Y/n couldn’t help but truly smile in return, until it turned sour at the witcher’s offer.

“Get on Roach.” Usually Geralt would offer her the horse when she was far worse for wear than he, though she didn’t think it was the best idea. Offering it to Jaskier instead would seem to suspicious, let alone the fact that she had never declined the offer before. The only smooth way to keep her off of the horse would be to ask to carry the baby, though she would never do that when he looked so enchanted. Giving a curt nod, she pulled herself onto the mare, her forehead resting on her neck for a moment to regain her strength. Roach gave a worried snort in response to her tense rider, but luckily, neither of the boys noticed. The trio had made their way back into town, Jaskier singing of the spooky lair filled with animal corpses, Y/n keeping in sobs with every step Roach took, and Geralt wishing every happiness to the babe in his arms.

Hearing the bard’s voice, the mother they had met earlier flew out of the house, almost tripping over herself to get to them. She almost bulldozed the White Wolf, her arms wrapping around the baby. Geralt had a hint of sadness in his eyes, though a ghost of a smile was present seeing the baby smile, grabbing onto his mother’s thumb and shoving it into his mouth. The husband rushed out due to hearing his wife cry. A smile broke across his face as he jogged to them, tears streaking his own face. Mariene, the wife, smiled. Her hand reached up to the witcher, cupping his pale cheek. Y/n smile once more, Jaskier playing triumphant background music as the rest of the village left their tasks to surround them. The woman slowly slid down the horse, watching from beside the bard and mare how praise finally rained onto the wolf. Her hand went to hold her ribs, pushing.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Mariene cried. The thanks fell from her lips like a prayer, the witcher shocked. He shook his head and pointed to Y/n, Mariene pointing praise to the warrior as well. The husband, Bernerd, shook Geralt’s hand as Mariene hugged the lights out of Y/n, quite literally. She tried to say something, but the stars flooded her vision. Luckily, Mariene moved to Jaskier, but the bard’s worried gaze flew to Geralt as he called to him. The witcher quickly caught the fainting woman, all joy taken by fear. He was quick to her side, his amber eyes pleading with the bard silently to keep the village attention. They didn’t need a scene, the town loosing too many people to the creature already. He swooped Y/n into a bridal hold, but she started to moan in pain by the hold on her ribs and spine. She tried to arch away, but she couldn’t breath either, not being able to walk.

The woman continued to blink in and out of consciousness, the witcher’s worried voice keeping her earthed. His own pained expression silenced her, her lips sealing so all noises were casted into pained grunts.

“Stay with me, Y/n. Only a few more steps.” Despite her trying to do many things, among them apologizing for ruining his rare moment of joy, she couldn’t stay awake.

Jaskier’s voice flew throughout the inn, the melody he sung slipping through the floorboards into their room. Practically the entire village was there, despite everything. The couple had paid in full for the return of their child, the Alderman paying for the trophy of the creature, the innkeeper clearing their tab and the village’s heart once they heard of the whole tale. Y/n had been out cold for a day, and the town wished on every star for her health after finding that she was the one who fought the thing. The couple had brought the child around earlier in the morning for Geralt to see, wanting to see if Y/n had awoken yet. The witcher sat beside her since the healer left, never moving from his chair. His pale hands gently rubbed ointment into Y/n’s stomach as she awoke that night.

Seeing her eyes open to meet his made his mind finally relax. The entire day was spent scolding himself for not seeing the signs. He knew everything about Y/n, trying his hardest to make her happy in anyway he could. The White Wolf never really took to conversations, so he expressed himself by listening, observing and doing. He trusted Y/n to take care of herself, but that didn’t mean that slip ups never happened. Maybe if he noticed sooner. If he had stuck to their routine, checking over her like every other contract, he could have noticed, and they wouldn’t be in this situation. Jaskier had pulled up a chair, sitting and watching next to him the night prior. The bard had also refused to leave or sleep, only getting a wink of rest when he passed out from exhaustion. That too Geralt burdened. The bard took to mending Y/n’s main vest, the claws had punctured holes into it. He had also found water and a sponge for Geralt to wash her shoulders. Jaskier also tried to convince Geralt that it wasn’t just his fault, the bard not noticing or asking either, but the witcher refused.

Geralt would do anything for Y/n, and he put things like checkups in order to keep her healthy. He couldn’t give her things most people want, and nowhere close to what she deserved. But he tried, and this didn’t help show it. He felt as though he failed her, and failed himself. Y/n was his world, and he couldn’t take care of it. If he couldn’t take care of it, he certainly didn’t deserve it.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He watched as she slowly blinked, taking in her surroundings. Her eyes flew down to her chest, finding her abdomen and shoulders dusted with ink black, blues and yellows with bruises. She sighed, barely trying to sit up before pain shot through her spine and she settled back down.

“I could have said something.”

“I should have noticed.” She sighed again, her hand landing and stilling one of his that continued its butterfly touches as it rubs in the ointment.

“I would have remained silent again.” His face steeled, leaning in closer as his brows furrowed.

“Why? You were harmed, and I could have helped.” She smiled, eyes closing.

“You looked so happy with that baby. I… I know we can’t have a lot, but you deserve the world. A little joy with the expense of some bruising is worth it.” His hand flipped, snatching hers within his, squeezing.

“You are my world. I should be giving you that joy.” She grunted in annoyance, though her eyes were bright as she opened them again.

“You being happy makes me happy.” He grumbled, clearly defused, but something still bugged him as he went back to rubbing.

“Still, I’m sorry for not asking earlier-.”

“Geralt.”

#witcher x reader #witcher imagine #geralt x reader #geralt imagine #jaskier imagine

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talkwithmarcy · 3 years

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Youtubers, step away from the underage fans!

Ok, before I start this post, I just wanna say first, in no way am I judging or telling someone how to make a living or their interest in what type of job their in. What I’m going to be critiquing in this post is a youtuber or an influencers’ way of INTERACTING with their fans.

Now this is suppose to be a simple concept, right? You either give them a picture, autograph, fulfill a commission, etc. However some people overstep that boundary, and it led them to utter shit. I’m talking about people who interacts sexually with their fans. And considering how big the internet is, some of these fans are underage, and interacting with them in such a way led to these influencers to be called a groomer or predator, whether they know a fan is underage or not.

This topic came around when I made a youtube video about a va (voice acting) youtuber, he was accused of doing some horrible stuff with his fans and friends, and one of them was manipulating and grooming underage girls. However, after doing an interview with this guy, me and my friend found some closure to some cases, open to new arguments for the unsolved ones and also find possibilities that some of the cases could be untrue. What I see as the main reason for the majority of the cases was because this youtuber was not very careful when it comes to interacting with his fans or providing fan-service.

This led to broken promises, mistreatment towards discord mods and closer friends, and then the grooming accusations. The youtuber admitted to being irresponsible and lazy when it comes to fulfilling tasks, and he admitted to being quite arrogant and boastful about being a huge youtuber.

But here I’m talking specifically about the grooming accusations. This is all because he was so full of himself of being a player and irresistible with his fans, he had no problem fooling around with them. His channel is composed of quite provocative content, and the audios are just straight up audio porn in his patreon. There’s no secret that some of the fans are heavily into that sort of stuff and they have no problem having a closer relationship with the youtuber if he initiates it. And because some fans are underage, I think the interactions can count as illegal.

All of this could’ve been avoided if he didn’t interact sexually on a personal level with his fans. I’m not gonna judge him for making provocative content because 1). he is an adult, he can make non-kid friendly content if he wants to, as long as it’s not hurting and disrespecting anyone, 2). if making these type of content is the more popular way for him to make a living in youtube, go ahead. The problem is that he brings this to a personal level with his fans, instead of keeping it on a business level.

I understand if you want to make your fans happy, but there is a more responsible and appropriate way to interact with them. And if you say, “well, they are not happy with it, they like talking about no-nos and that kind of stuff, otherwise, they are not interested in me”, then tell them to screw off. Especially if they are underage and you are an adult, you should know better, and have some self-respect.

A good example of this is an incident of where I communicated with a youtuber named Aramin Audios. To bring you up to speed, there was another va youtuber, let’s call him Pink, who was accused of being a groomer to his girlfriend, but after researching a bit, me and my friends found that this is false and the people who accused him of so made the accusations out of anger and jumping to conclusions.

Now in response to this, Aramin wants to avoid this accusations to happen to him and he wants his community to be safer for his younger audience. That seems like a great thing to do, right? BUT, he thinks the best way to achieve that is to delete his discord server and build a new one, where it is reserved for patreons only, where he will discuss the nsfw content they want in their patreon requests. Me and my friend were confused by this because, in a way, it’s like a punishment for the underage fans for the youtubers’ irresponsible way of interacting with them. And the way he announced that he was gonna do this is as if he is putting the blame on Pink, this made us worried whether upset fans are gonna went after Pink or not after this.

However, we were more confused on his WAY of fixing this problem. I guess people will have a different opinion on this, but based on what Aramin wants and how he worded his request for his community, it seems like he was trying really hard to make it safe for the younger audience. So we asked him, if he was so worried about effecting kids with his provocative content, why not just age-restrict his videos? Of course, the answer is because he still wants to make a living and the content in his channel is still sfw, so it shouldn’t be age-restricted.

We also questioned on the new server he was planning to make because 1). from what I know, he is not that active in his old server anyways, so what’s the point? 2). from what he says, it will be no different, they will just discuss more r18 topics with his patrons and 3). this can be upsetting for fans who are JUST as loyal as the patreon fans. He explains that he thinks that it will be safer because minors lie in the internet, and it’s more secure when people make an account on patreon. True, maybe patreon is more strict but it is proven that people can still lie about their age in patreon. So me and my friend suggested to him, why not just age-restrict your videos or try to change your content a bit, because sfw that’s not automatically mean kid-friendly and from the way he was acting, this was his main worry.

The weird thing that happened was that my friend, let’s call her Lady, is a bit more closer to Aramin, because she was also a youtuber and he watches her stuff before. However, when Lady tried to explain how Aramin’s way of achieving all this didn’t make sense, the fans there agreed. But as soon as Aramin came, they did a complete 180. And of course, I’m not close with Aramin, right? there’s nothing wrong if he gets a bit defensive, but when me and Lady asked him the questions and give him suggestions for a better way to achieve he wants. He became demeaning to the point where he acts like he didn’t know who Lady is, and he treated her as if she is too young and too dumb to understand what he was saying. And they were roughly the same age.

Also, in that chat, some fans told me to scroll to reread what they were talking about, but the thing is I want to hear from Aramin’s word. However, after some exchange, it seems like Aramin doesn’t actually want his community to be minor-free, and he mostly blame that it’s the kids fault for lying about their age and parents are not monitoring they’re kids. So I asked him, “But you’re the one who wants to make your channel minor-free, this is based on what you want, so why won’t you yourself actually take the precautions?” and he responded with, “I’m not gonna entertain this, because you won’t scroll up, you obviously don’t care.” Good defense, Aramin.

So he may say he wants his community to be safer for minors, and he did this because of other youtubers who are exposed as groomers and predators, but he doesn’t actually practice what he preach. He just wants to be seen as taking action for the better.

But anyways, it seems like he didn’t wanna budge or give any good reason anytime soon, so me and Lady gave up. Lady told me after that conversation, he immediately deleted the server XD and the cherry on top is that he made a response to this in twitter and oh boy, there is so many things wrong with this tweet.

Where do I start with this?

First off, we’re talking about what he is doing with his server, so when he says he wants to protect minors from predators that could join his server, Aramin, that just brings the question, what kind of people you allow to reside in your server and how do you act with your fans? And it says a lot when you felt the NEED to make an r18 server with your fans.

Second, apparently Aramin was badly injured when I told him sfw does not mean kid-friendly. I wasn’t trying to make a ‘gotcha’ moment, Aramin, I was just stating something. But since you are so heavily affected by that, sorry I hurt your feelings I guess.

Third, I agree to scolding kids for lying about their age online and watching what they’re not suppose to watch. However, recommending that kids should just stay in Youtube Kids is just not right. Youtube Kids is specifically for kids who are at the age of 4-12, so a minor as young as 13-15 can watch your stuff. And it is also known that there’s still inappropriate content that is still posted in Youtube Kids, because they were fooled by the kid-friendly thumbnail and Youtube doesn’t actually check if the content is safe or not. And to just say, “well, they should just stay in Youtube Kids”, that’s an ignorant thing to say. Tell me guys, how young were you when you first watch or witness something that is not considered kid-friendly? Whether by accident or on purpose.

Fourth, what nice thing of him to say, “it is the parents’ fault for not monitoring what their children sees on the internet 24/7.” Yeah, it’s the parents fault, guys, it’s not like they have jobs or any house activities they have to do to take care of their kids. It’s their fault for not breathing down on their children’s neck every time they see a screen. And from him saying he doesn’t wanna stop his source of income because of the parents, Aramin, you’re basically saying, “I don’t support and I would never recommend minors watching my videos and I want my community to be safer for minors.....but I’ll still make money from minors watching my shit anyways, thank you very much.”

And finally, keep in mind, me and my friend did not bash nor insult Aramin while we were talking to him. We did not call him a predator, bad person, or whatever. But apparently something as simple as asking questions, even though you are confused for a good reason, counts as attacking or tearing someone down according to Aramin.

So yeah, overall, Aramin just comes off as a whiny brat, and this response just comes off as him going

“These people are confused, and they’re asking questions and giving me suggestions! It’s the worse thing ever, WHY CAN’T THEY SEE I’M A GOOD PERSON?”

Anyways, at the end of this post, I want to make this clear, whether your content is inappropriate or not, or your patreon is 18+ or not, I don’t care. The problem is if you actually interact with your fans in such a way. It’s asking for trouble and even if you don’t mean to interact with underage fans in such a way, it is still YOUR irresponsibility to act that way AT ALL with any age with your fans, who are also mostly complete strangers to you, especially when you are aware that minors might watch your stuff.

Just because you act in a certain way in your channel, does not mean you should act the same in person to your fans. We may saw Dakota Johnson’s boobs in Fifty Shades of Grey, but that wouldn’t mean it would be acceptable for her to flash her fans during a meet-and-greet.

Yes, it is the fault of the kids for lying about their age online or if they watch something they’re not suppose to, but in the end, YOU’RE the influencer. You are the one with the channel, you are the one who can fix what they watch or at the very least, make the situation a little more appropriate.

#my rants #youtube #youtubers #influencer #influencers #fanservice #minors #tw: grooming

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suf-lives-rent-free · 4 years

Text

Negativity in the SU/F Fandom

I feel like the best way to begin my cringe vent blog is to drive away as many people who would take issue with my opinions as possible, so way too long meta/fandom post let’s go.

Something I became increasingly aware of when I started to look into the Steven Universe community online several years ago was the sheer amount of negativity within the fandom.

What I saw included fans frustrated with long hiatuses and complaining about ‘filler’ townie episodes, desperate to get back to action-y space stuff, when – if you look at it – that wasn’t really the show’s focus, especially after Season 1A.

I saw people selecting freeze-frames and isolated shots of characters and spewing conspiracies about how the show had either had its budget cut or the board artists were bad/being lazy for going ‘off-model’.

I saw homophobes trying to downplay the explicitly queer elements – to the point of ‘gals pals’-ing Ruby and Sapphire, who at the time were seen by a lot of people as pushing the envelope with regard to visible queer rep in kids’ media.

Later in the show’s run, I saw people obsessively insisting that the crew were fascist apologizers, when the real problem was that they themselves had misread the Diamonds as allegorical fascists, and were angry at them being treated as complex characters with some sympathetic traits, rather than as evil obstacles to be knocked down and destroyed.

And by now everybody and their grandma knows about the video. Y’know. That one.

A lot of people seemed to be utterly, unreasonably enraged at the show just because it had the audacity to exist.

The term ‘toxic’ – like ‘problematic’ – is overused online to the point that its meaning has been kind of diluted, but think that calling this type of all-encompassing negativity ‘toxic’ is accurate.

Looking at the fandom after the original show ended, it seems like a lot of these people – SU Crits – lost their steam and vanished off to go bother people in other fandoms. Personally speaking, I saw a lot less of this kind of mindless bashing of SU in the lead-up to the Movie and during/after Future airing.

However, the impression these people made lingers on.

I think it’s fair to say that Steven Universe Future – particularly its second half – is divisive. A lot of people did not like the direction that it took. Full disclosure, I am one of those people.

I’m not going to pretend there wasn’t some of the toxic SU-critical mindset going around, but of all of the people I knew who disliked Future, none of them were like that. They had reasonable takes, and listened to and engaged with opinions that were contrary to theirs. Often, they avoided being ‘too’ negative to spare others’ feelings. I myself have avoided being publicly critical of Future specifically because I’m afraid of alienating or hurting people who like it.

What I’m trying to say here is that while the level of toxic negativity in the SU fandom tapered off around the Movie and Future, the response to that negativity remained. To me, it feels like a lot of the people who loved the original show and were active in the fandom while it was airing – who had experienced the worst of the SU Crit trolling – have become so used to engaging with criticisms made in bad faith that any and all negativity directed towards the show feels like an attack.

I’ve seen people who screencap smear frames and point out funny proportions/facial expressions – not to accuse the artists and animators of laziness, but just to say ‘ha, this frame is funny!’ – get condescended to and told they don’t know how animation works.

I’ve seen gatekeeping; people being told that they just ‘don’t get it’ or have a right to comment on the show’s portrayal of mental illness because they’ve never experienced it themselves (which is... a hell of a thing to assume about a stranger on the internet).

And I have been told explicitly in private circles that my opinion about the show – its characters and themes – was not wanted unless it was positive.

Essentially, what I’ve seen since Future’s second half began to air, and in the several months since it ended, is people who have any issue at all with the show having their opinions equated to those of the SU Crits, and being lumped in with them.

People who love the show are so used to having to defend it at literally every turn that they shut down and disregard any and all negativity. I sympathise with that because I was there too and it does suck to have something you like picked apart and bashed, but it’s also gone way too far in the other direction.

It is my opinion that this stifling ‘all positivity all the time, no negativity allowed’ atmosphere is why the SU fandom has dwindled away so quickly; people like me, who feel they cannot express genuine opinions about (let’s remind ourselves) a fucking cartoon made for children without being shunned by people they consider friends, have largely decided that the best - and easiest - thing to do is keep quiet and dip out.

If, in the first couple months after Future ended, you noticed a lot of people who had been very intensely into SU just stop talking about it and hopping over to She-Ra or Owl House or whatever else, well… I honestly believe that might be the reason why.

I wanted to get all of this off of my chest because these thoughts have been rattling around my brain for months now, and I’m kind of sick of not talking openly about it.

The amount of toxic negativity people had to deal with during the run of this show was nothing normal. A lot of it was motivated by misogyny, homophobia and a basic misunderstanding of what the story of the show was meant to be about. There is no getting away from that.

However, that does not mean that any and all criticism of the show comes from that same, malicious place. Some of us really loved it, but just disliked the direction the epilogue series happened to take.

The derogation of any opinions that don’t amount to universal praise is, I would argue, just as toxic and damaging to the fandom as the people defaming the show and trolling fans who enjoyed it.

Not wanting to engage with negativity is fine, but don’t shun people for it. I’m not talking about the trolls here; I’m talking about other fans whose opinions aren’t as wholly positive as yours. Pushing us out and disregarding our opinions because you disagree is unacceptable.

Steven Universe is over. The fandom seems like it won’t last that much longer either, so it’s too late to do much about it now. So instead I want to ask that, in future fandoms you find yourself in... don’t do this.

#steven universe #steven universe future #negativity #long post

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jaminjims · 4 years

Text

i love you’s || k.nj

synopsis: you could never stop saying ‘i love you’ to him because he was everything you ever needed.

pairing: kim namjoon x gender neutral reader

genre: oneshot! fluff, fluff, and more fluff (and maybe just a tiny little bit of angst but its barely noticeable)

warnings: n/a

words: 1.7k

a/n: omg kinda nervous to release this fic because it’s in a different style than i usually post in but i thought it was really cute and with all the literal angst i’ve been publishing, this would be like a breath of fresh air. so here it is, and yes before you ask, this IS based off of the dream i had of namjoon that i said i would write like three millennia ago. i hope you guys like it!

“Namjoon, come on. I don’t want to wait in the long line.” You whined as you pulled your boyfriend by the hand.

He laughed and smiled that dimpled smile you adored so much, “Ok, ok. I didn’t know you loved smoothies so much, babe.” He linked his fingers with yours and then kissed the back of your hand.

You giggled and leaned your head against his shoulder, “Well, maybe if you came out of your studio every once in awhile you would know.” By your teasing voice, Namjoon knew you weren't actually criticizing him about his work.

It has been awhile since the two of you have been out together for a full day like this and you wanted to cherish every moment you got with him. Namjoon often lost himself in his work, but you could tell he really loves what he does, so you didn’t mind as much when he spends hours at a time working on music.

But that didn't mean you didn’t miss him. You were always up waiting for him when he got home later than usual. You would bring him lunch when you weren't to busy yourself and talk about your days. It was the little things that made him fall infinitely more in love with you.

“I’m just happy you're with me now, though.” You said as you smiled up at him.

He squeezed your hand and leaned down to kiss your forehead, “Lets go. I thought you didn’t want to wait in the line to long.”

You snickered and started dragging him to the smoothie booth again. “Haha, you are so funny.” You mumbled sarcastically.

He laughed again and jogged a little ways to catch up with you. He un-linked your hands to instead put his arm around your shoulders. The both of you waited in the smoothie line for awhile, just discussing life, until it was your turn to order.

“I would like a banana smoothie please.” You looked over at Namjoon and couldn’t help but admire his face as he looked up at the order menu. He was wearing a black turtle neck tucked into dark blue jeans.

‘Is it hot in here or is it just me?’

You didn’t catch his answer to the girl getting your orders, but you did notice when he took his arm from around your shoulders to grab his wallet. But you stopped him before he could get out any money.

“Yah, I’m paying.” You said with finality while Namjoon sighed in response, shaking his head with a smiled on his face.

“Yes, anything for you.” He said. But was it just you or did it sound teasing?

You huffed out a laugh before responding, “Well now I wanna let you pay.” Even as you said that though, you gave the cash to the lady at the register. She looked between the two of you and smiled endearingly before handing back your change.

Namjoon pulled you to a table close by so you could wait for your drinks. The mall around you was bustling with people and you were glad he seemed to find a relatively quiet (well at least quiet for a mall) place to sit.

You grabbed his hands from across the table and just starred at him. Which people would have thought was creepy if it wasn’t for the fact that Namjoon starred back at you with just the same amount of adoration.

“What you starring at me for?” He question as he squeezed your hands.

You shrugged in response, “I just love looking at you, I guess.”

He smiled his dimpled smiled again and looked down at the table, breaking eye contact. You couldn't help but smile at how bashful he was.

When your orders were called he got up from his seat and went to collect them. You took this chance to move your chair next to his so you could be closer to each other.

He came back and put your smoothie in front of you while he started to drink his. Once he sat down, the both of you talked about everything you could. Having deep conversations like this was one of the reasons why your relationship worked so well. The both of you believed that communication was one of the essentials in a relationship, and the both of you tended to talk about what's on your minds all the time so it was something you excelled in.

“What do you think your future looks like?”

Namjoon looked out into the busy mall, “I don’t know, honestly.” He then turned to look at you. “But I do know that you’re in it.”

The blush on your face was there before he even finished his sentence. “Ugh, stop being so sappy.” And even though you said that, there was a big smile on your face and the fluttering in your heart made you jittery.

The both of you talked for a little more before your smoothies were gone. You both got up and went to throw your trash away, but before you could continue walking around, you grabbed Namjoon by the waist and pulled him in for a hug.

He was surprised at your gesture but settled into the embrace none-the-less. As he wrapped his arms around you, you sighed out, just enjoying the moment.

“You know, you’re a very good hugger.”

His chuckle reverberates through his chest. “You tell me that all the time babe.”

When you didn’t let go of the hug after a little while, he got a little worried. “Hey, are you ok?”

You hummed and shrugged your shoulders, “Yep,” you looked up at him and smiled big, “I just love you a lot.”

~**~

“Can we go? Please?” You said as you gave Namjoon you’re best puppy dog eyes. You had pulled him in the direction of the “Kiddie Section” in the mall and you were currently pointing to a ride that looked like it would fit a six year old, definitely not you, a full sized adult.

“You’re such a kid.” He snorted. “You will most definitely get stuck in that thing.”

“No I won’t.” You said, hitting him on the arm.

He sighed good-naturedly and pulled put a quarter to put into the - to him - small death like contraption they called a little kids ride. It was a tiny red car that was painted on the front to look like a clown. Like come on.

You sat down and just your knees took up all the space, but you somehow fit yourself down into the tiny seat and you then pester Namjoon to take a picture.

He snaps a picture and then he smiles and sets it as his new phone background.

“Jonnie, uh, so like...”

He looks back over at you and can’t suppress his groan because he was right and you did end up getting stuck.

“Oh for the love of... Ok, what do you need me to do?”

“Can you pull my arms up while I try to get my legs about from under me?”

The both of you try to get you out for about ten minutes before you finally twist your body the right way to get out, but while you do, you hit your knee hard.

“Babe, you ok?” He asks as he helps you sit down on a nearby bench.

You rub your knee and grimace. “Yeah it just hurts a lot.”

He sighs tiredly but still has a smile on his face. He then puts his phone in his back pocket and bends down in front of you. “Come on, get on, love.”

You frowned, “But I don’t want to hurt you. Besides, you’ll get tired.”

He turns around and flicks your forehead, “You have no say in this.”

You laugh a little and accept his piggy back ride. The two of you walked, well Namjoon walked while you were carried, around the mall. You were window shopping while talking and occasionally you would make a joke that would make the two of you laugh.

You both got ice cream after about an hour of walking around and you leaned up (you were still being carried) and placed a kiss on Namjoon’s cheek. “I love you lots.”

His dimple smile made your heart swell and he tightened his grip around your thighs.

“I love you more.”

~**~

“Hey, wanna see a movie?” Even though it was a question, you made it sound like a statement.

The both of you were sitting on a bench outside at near-by park. Watching and listening to the wildlife and children play about.

“Mm, what do you wanna see?” he stated as he continued to draw lazy patterns on your shoulder with the hand that was around you.

Your eyes brightened up and you smiled, “I don’t know, maybe the new Scooby-Do movie?”

He snickered and looked over at you, “Of course you would say that.”

You narrowed your eyes, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

He leaned in and kissed your nose, “That I would do anything for you, even see the Scooby-Do movie.”

You took the chance and kissed him on the lips, a smirk in place, “Hey, I heard it was actually good.”

“Mhm, lets go. I want to get the earliest one.”

He pulled you up by your hand (since your knee didn’t hurt that much anymore) and intertwined your fingers, walking toward the movie theater connected to the mall.

You purchased the tickets while he got the snacks and you two made your way to theater number seven, where the starting credits where just beginning to start.

When you sat down, you took both of Namjoon’s hands in yours and preoccupied yourself with playing with his fingers. It was actually something you really liked doing because his hands were really smooth.

While you were waiting for the movie to start, he looked over at you with a soft smile on his face and adoration in his eyes. He couldn’t believe that he had someone as great and amazing as you in his life.

Right as the movie theater was dimming down to get ready to play Scooby-Do, you looked up and caught him staring at you.

You smiled shyly, “What?”

He shrugged and leaned in to kiss you. When he pulled away, you opted to snuggle up into him, to be as close as possible.

“I love you.” you whispered as the movie started.

You didn’t think he heard you but he leaned his head on top of yours and felt him smile against your hair. “I love you more.”

[end]

end note: there’s not much for me to say other than i had myself melting at this one you guys. and i hope no one was to thrown off by the writing style! oh and also! i love ya’ll! that’s it. that’s all i had to add

~**~

masterlist

request something!

taglist: @boba-tea1206

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x male reader #bts x female reader #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #kim namjoon fanfiction #bts fluff #bts rm #rm

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derireo · 4 years

Text

mafia au: personalities

disclaimer: some of them are aged up in the story (eg. juza is 20, itaru is 26). sakyo is aged down by a year!

Still kind-hearted despite the near death experience and her ex cheating on her with her friend. She wants to see the best in people who haven't lost her trust yet, but quickly turns at the toss of a coin she's wronged.

Trusts a bit too easily. This goes hand in hand with her kind hearted nature, but her gut feeling is almost always correct despite Sakyo and Itaru always complaining about her making new friends. She can't help it, she just really loves people!

An absolute charmer! Her empathetic, open and trusting personality makes it easy for strangers to fall for her; romantic or not. Again, Sakyo and Itaru hate this but they also can't seem to resist her.

Tough exterior. Of course, she's an ooey gooey cutie baby on the inside, but it's a bit difficult for people to see that when they first meet her after the incident. Her resting face doesn't showcase the best emotions, and when most of the characters first meet her or interact with her, she's either violent or staring blankly at them.

Easy to fluster depending on who is talking to her. She can easily brush off comments or questionable actions of affection depending on who she is with, but gets bashful when her combat skills are praised. So far, the only person who is able to fluster her so much to the point that she accepts all advances is Juza. He's a little devil!

Not much for talking. Considering his plans with Itaru that are revealed later into the story, Sakyo keeps his mouth shut when he doesn't need to talk. Despite that, Izumi tends to talk to him anyway whenever he's doing his job, and only responds with low hums or the nod of his head. Itaru is the lucky one and is able to maintain conversation with Sakyo due to their relation with one another. Some may find it surprising that when Sakyo loses his temper, he shouts real loud!

Patient. With how long he's been with Itaru, it's a wonder how he hasn't blown his top off. He lets things slide whenever someone messes up or whenever Itaru does a boo-boo, and even then, he keeps his temper under control when people are unreasonable themselves. The longest he had dealt with someone was probably around 2 hours, and they trashed his office in the meantime. He didn't order it, but Itaru broke the guy's fingers for him one by one.

Reliable. Sakyo is definitely someone you can depend on. He gets things done and he's able to keep you safe; it's what Izumi admires about him the most. He's the oldest of the group at 30, and takes it upon himself to care for the rest of them from any danger that's targeting them from the outside.

Austere. Along with responsibility comes stick up his ass Sakyo. He is strict when he needs to be, when his patience is running thin. He normally punishes Itaru and Tasuku whenever they're doing something stupid, but lets Izumi off the hook most of the time. Juza isn't his problem and lets Izumi dish out a punishment upon the youngest. If all four of them are being rowdy, he will put his foot down and make it very loud and clear that he isn't in the mood to fuck around.

Bit of a playboy. He's seen in one of the earlier chapters being unusually affectionate with Izumi despite only just meeting her. His attitude quickly snaps into something much colder a few minutes later, but the clear image of the docile girl leaning into the touch of his hand definitely warms up something inside of him. In another scene, he's chatting it up with some ladies at the local club Sakyo owns while the older man only watches in annoyance.

Loyal to the bone. He's been with Sakyo from the start, right beside him for a full 8 years ever since they fought and earned their way to the top of Yunliong. He is a bit rough around the edges when you first meet him, but once he warms up to you, he's protecting you with his life. Before Tasuku and Juza showed up, he was the one busy with watching Izumi when her bodyguards were occupied with something else. Sometimes he begs Sakyo to let him hang with her when he's bored.

Goofy and fucking lazy. Once you get past the cold exterior, Itaru's just a weird and lazy guy. Most of the time he's tasked with signing off papers that Sakyo has already read over and is required to go to meetings in the other blond's place. He absolutely hates it though and tries to avoid doing work whenever he can. His sense of humor is a bit weird too, so it's rare for someone to giggle along with him. Izumi loves it though.

The logic. When Sakyo's about to fall off the rails thanks to his patience running thin, Itaru takes charge and becomes the voice of logic and reason when in need of a plan. He's also a bit of Devil's Advocate, making sure everyone knows what they're thinking and saying and trying to let them know that their ideas suck balls.

Obnoxiously flirty, but only with Izumi. Gets on Itaru's nerves a lot because he's childhood friends with Izumi and is almost always seen taking care of her before Juza shows up. With how tight their relationship is, Tasuku always finds a random time to have his hand touching any part of Izumi he can reach and likes to give her kisses every now and then. His advances and flirtatious comments are normally brushed off by Izumi, but she does seem to enjoy his embrace whenever he offers himself up.

Wild card. I don't want to say Tasuku is crazy, but there is definitely something off about him. His mood switches depending on who he's interacting with, but most of the time he's with the group so his temper is subdued. Oddly enough, he always claims that he can feel his blood boiling whenever someone brings up Izumi's ex and friend, and when he fights' his terrifyingly playful.

Quite the thespian/trickster. He's great at masking his emotions and holding himself back when facing obstacles or people he doesn't like. He's good at reading between the lines and can adjust his expressions and moods to fit the atmosphere. Most people don't know he's toying with them until the last second and– crack. They're dead.

Morally grey & sadistic. Some things are only obtainable through bloodshed and death. Tasuku would do anything to keep his group safe, and he did. He was only 17 when he killed his first victim, but it was only because that victim was planning an uprising against the people he swore his life to. Those who are evil only deserve suffering and death; so he serves them both with a smile on his face.

Soft hearted. Even though he's quite the scary man, there is a small place in his heart where the group has resided in. They're his family, and have been for a long time. He may not be the best person to be around, but he tries to show his love and affection through all different means.

The youngest of the group at 20, he still acts like a kid around the other four when he's feeling particularly bratty or bored. He tends to get on the men's nerves more often than not with how close he is to Izumi, and he takes full advantage of it. He knows he's got it better than them! Yes, he's going to rub it in their faces! He's childish & petty like that because the men give back the same energy when he's around.

And surprise! He's an even bigger flirt than Itaru and Tasuku! Again, only with Izumi! She's the first woman he meets in a while after maybe a year of squatting here and there. With how Izumi easily takes him down and steps on him sets something off in Juza, and with a little more coaxing with Izumi's kindness later on, he's attached. He's clingy and absolutely cunning, having Izumi in his lap not even two hours later when they're back at the new hideout.

Obedient. Assigned as Izumi's pet by Sakyo, he listens to (almost) every command of hers. He stays by her side 24/7 despite the protests and complaints from Itaru and Tasuku and is constantly waiting for Izumi to give him the go to finally kill those two or something to shut them up. He's pretty docile though, when Izumi needs him to be, and doesn't talk unless he's told to.

Shameless. Yeah, so along with flirting with Izumi, he is not at all afraid of touching her inappropriately when in public. He's notorious within the gang for always having his hands on her waist or his face buried in her neck. They also sleep on the same bedroll and he clings onto her like a pillow. He's not afraid to show that he's attracted to her, and with his onslaught of advances, he eventually makes Izumi see him a bit differently.

Exhausted! Always! When he was first introduced in the story, he had just woken up from a nap when he held Izumi hostage at knife point. Juza loves napping and sleeping and takes every chance he gets to rest when there isn't serious things going down. He's still awfully dangerous when half asleep.

#i never finished this story but i love it so much #i loved the story & my ocs 🥺#kinda happy i changed it to a3! bc its fun #their personalities are quite different from the game dontcha think?#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! imagines #izumi tachibana #a3! actor training game #juza hyodo #sakyo furuichi #itaru chigasaki #tasuku takato #ser: mafia au

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nayutai · 4 years

Text

Bad Boy Bakery

↠ Pairing Yeosang x Female OC

↠ Genre fluffy dirty angst

↠ Word Count 11.806

↠ Warnings infidelity (kinda sorta), mutual pining, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), foul language, crude jokes, fingering, tattooed yeosang, mentions of criminal activity

↠ Summary Yeosang has a storied past and most of it is documented at the local police station. That’s the past though. These days he’s too busy running a semi-successful bakery with his best friends. After securing an order for the engagement party of well-known socialite Ivy Maxwell, he thinks his business might finally be taking off. He may have bitten off more than he could chew though.

It’s decided. Yeosang is going back to jail. Why he thought hiring the seven other misfits he used to run with to work in his bakery was a good idea he’ll never know. Bad Boy Bakery was supposed to be his way to get his life back on the right track and all these heathens do is test him every single day. He does a quick mental calculation of how much money is stashed around his house and he’s positive he’s got enough to post bail for a simple assault charge, but then again they might try to make an example of him considering his impressive arrest record. With the way he’s being tested at this moment though, he’s willing to spend every penny if it means he gets to beat Mingi into oblivion.

“Mingi, I swear to God if you fuck up another batch of egg whites I’m going to shove that whisk in your ear and beat your brains.” He glares at the clumsy giant vigorously whisking a bowl full of egg whites that already look like they’re begging for mercy. They have to have a full dessert spread ready for an engagement party that’s taking place in less than six hours and Mingi has ruined more eggs than Yeosang is even comfortable counting.

“Man, shut up. I did three years upstate. My arms are too damn strong for this which is exactly why I told your dumb ass to do it.” Everybody groans out loud at having to hear that exact phrase for what has to be the millionth time.

“That was over a year ago and you haven’t lifted anything heavier than a bag of flour ever since. Give it a rest.” Wooyoung garners a round of hearty laughter at his dig, looking quite pleased with himself at successfully bashing his friend.

“I make up for it by jacking off five times a day instead of four now so my point still stands.”

“I hope you wash your hands just as much.” The group of tattooed bakers loudly express their disgust when Mingi gives them nothing but a devious grin in response. Mingi, on the other hand, is phased by neither his friends’ disgust not Yeosang’s bristling anger as he dumps his third attempt at the egg whites into the garbage. So much for third time’s the charm.

Yep, Yeosang is going back to jail.

Ivy is resigned as she carefully sweeps her brush across both of her cheekbones. The glittery gold of the highlight powder left in its wake perfectly complements the rich sepia tone of her skin. She’s just as precise in the application of her lipstick. Slowly, but surely, painting her lips a deep purple. She sighs as she gives herself a final once over in her vanity mirror. The inky black curls that normally adorn her head like a crown have been forced into straightened submission indicative of her mother’s urge to impress the crowd of people that Ivy can already hear beginning to gather downstairs. Her left hands feels uncomfortably heavy as it has ever since this nightmare first began.

As if sensing her procrastination, Ivy’s mother Yvette comes striding into her daughter’s bedroom. It’s easy to tell how much she’s enjoying playing her mother of the bride role. She hasn’t stopped smiling since Ivy’s engagement to her long-time “boyfriend” was officially announced last month. Needless to say, she’s the only one finding any joy in this situation.

“Ivy, sweetie, hurry up and come downstairs. Everyone is waiting to see you.”

“Yeah, right.” Ivy scoffs in response. “They just want to see this.” Yvette frowns at the way Ivy glares in disdain at the stunning ring adorning her finger.

“Ivy Elaine Peters, you better get it to together right now. Keeping this family business afloat requires sacrifice and its your turn now stop moping and get your narrow ass downstairs.” Her mother disappears back out the door before Ivy can get in a word of her own. Not that it would have mattered. Her fate has been sealed for the past twenty four years.

She slips her feet into the black patent leather pumps still sitting pretty in the box on her canopy bed. The red soled beauties are sure to provide more status than comfort, but such is life. Ivy gives herself one final pep talk, smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles in her slip dress. She looks more like a fashionable mourner than a blushing bride but this is her silent protest. She’ll make her damn sacrifice but she’ll dig her heels in wherever she can.

Ivy quickly spots her fiancee Seokjin cracking jokes with a few of her cousins near the front door. He beams at her when he catches her eye across the room, breaking away to come greet her. Not for the first time, Ivy wonders why she couldn’t just fall in love with him to make this whole process easier. Their families have known each other longer than they’ve both been alive so they grew up as best friends. Plus, Seokjin is genuinely a great guy. He’s charismatic, kind, and attractive to the point of unfairness. She has no doubt that he’d make a fantastic husband for someone. She just wishes that she wasn’t that someone. The only positive is that Seokjin feels the exact same way. He loves Ivy to pieces in the most platonic way possible. She’s quite possibly the last person he would ever consider marrying, but business is business and this is a merger that must be made.

“You look absolutely stunning, Vee.” She smiles gratefully at his compliment as he bends slightly to kiss her on the cheek. A camera flashes somewhere off to her right so she makes sure to play her happiness up for the photographer. With the combined notoriety of their families, any pictures taken tonight are sure to be all over the local and regional news outlets by morning.

“I could say the same about you, Jinnie.” The tips of his ears turn red as they always do whenever anyone compliments him. Ivy giggles playfully when he ducks the hand reaching up to tweak on of them like she always does, choosing instead to square up like he’s ready for a fight. Oh, Jin, ever the entertainer. The numerous peals of laughter that erupt around the couple as they take turns jabbing at each other like children tells her that their antics are paying off.

The two imposters spend the night putting on one hell of a show. Anyone would be hard pressed to find someone that didn’t think they’re madly in love with one another. Their parents couldn’t be more ecstatic about this outcome if they tried.

Everyone is seated at the lavishly decorated tables set up in the backyard as an army of waiters replaces empty entree plates with various cakes and tarts that look almost too delectable to eat. The cheesecake placed in front of Ivy looks nearly too beautiful to eat. Topped with fresh berries and drizzled in what smells like some sort of hazelnut sauce. She wishes she hadn’t left her cellphone upstairs so that she could take a quick picture of it for her instagram. When she finally gets over her reluctance, she take a small bite. A borderline pornographic moan escapes her lips, catching Jin way off guard.

“What the hell wa-” Ivy cuts him off by shoving a forkful of the cheesecake into his open mouth. He groans in pleased delight, attempting to go in with his own fork for another bite, but she quickly slaps his hand away.

“Let me taste yours. Bite for a bite.” She pretends not to notice him sneaking another bite of her cheesecake while she tastes the chocolate tart in front of him. A hint of red chili lends a kick that perfectly rounds out the sweetness of the chocolate and the fresh whipped cream the dessert is topped in.

“I don’t know what bakery they used but we need to get them to do the cake for the wedding.” Jin declares as he practically inhales the chocolate tart. He signals the waiter to bring them two more for them to try while Ivy hums in agreement at his side. She makes a mental note to ask her mother who was hired to do the desserts tomorrow as she happily digs into the coconut cream cake being set in front of her.

Yeosang stares in awe at the payment he’s just received for the engagement party they’d done three days ago. His bakery has been faring better than most businesses do in their first year but the deposit currently pending with the bank is going to go a long way in making sure it stays that way. They had even sent two grand more than the $1,800 that the contract had stipulated. Yeosang had called immediately to make sure it wasn’t an accounting error because the last thing he wants is to be accused of stealing, but he’d been informed by the woman who had arranged the deal that her employers had been so satisfied with the food they wanted to “tip” him. Rich people are different.

He leaves his small office to clean up a little while it’s slow. He had let everyone else go early since there were no big orders to work on and Tuesdays are notorious dead zones. The bell above the door tinkles lightly as he cleans some wayward chocolate curls out of one of the display cases, cursing to himself because he’d told Seonghwa that he put too many but of course no one listens to him. Doesn’t matter that he signs those lazy bastards’ pay checks every week.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The young woman before him fidgets with the tie on her wrap dress inadvertently drawing Yesoang’s gaze to the womanly curves she possesses. The emerald green of the fabric highlights the warm undertones of her skin in a way that should definitely be illegal.

“My mother’s assistant told me that you did the desserts for my engagement party last night.” Yeosang curses mentally as he finally takes notice of the skating rink sitting on her left ring finger. He misses most of what she says next but tunes back in just in time to hear her ask if he’s available to do her wedding cake as well.

“What’s the date?” He questions, all business now that more money is on the table.

“September 9th. It’s going to be at the old vineyard across town.”

Yeosang nods in acknowledgment. He pencils her in and schedules a day in two weeks for her to come back with her fiancee to do a tasting and make final selections for the other desserts they’d like to have. Ivy is turning to leave when she catches sight of a full-sized version of the cheesecake she’d fallen in love with at the party.

“How much is that cheesecake?”

Yeosang follows her outstretched index finger to the hazelnut berry cheesecake that he’d come up with. It had taken him ages to perfect but hasn’t really taken off like he thought it would. Nevertheless, he makes sure to put one in the display case every day and he’s glad that he did.

“It’s $6 per slice. Did you want one?”

“How much for the whole thing?” Yeosang notices that she has yet to take her eyes off of the dessert.

“I’ll do $35 for you, beautiful.” For a second, he thinks that he may have overstepped his boundaries but she simply reaches into her bra to pull out a flashy, black card. The credit limit on that thing would probably pay off the loan on his storefront and then some.

He tries not to focus on how warm it is when she places it into his outstretched hand. He could’ve sworn that she intentionally let her fingers graze his own in a less than professional way. Yeosang shakes the thought away as that can only lead to trouble. He packs her cheesecake up while she signs the credit card receipt.

“Have a great day,” Yeosang pauses to look at the signature line of the receipt. “…Ivy.”

“Right back at you.” She winks at him playfully and sashays outside to her car. Yeosang’s eyes are trained on her until she’s seated in her seated in the black Audi he’s just now noticing was parked across the street.

Ivy calls Jin the second she steers her car back onto the road, waiting patiently for him to answer. She’s practically vibrating from the few minutes she’d spent with…fuck she’d forgotten to get his name but there is plenty of time for that. One thing she’s sure she’ll never forget is how hot he is. Ivy would’ve never guessed that she’d be attracted to someone with quite so many tattoos but on him they had looked like priceless works of art worthy of being placed in the Louvre.

“Hey, Vee, what’s up?”

“Two things. One, the bakery that did the desserts for the engagement party agreed to do the wedding.” Ivy curses at a slow driver that cuts her off at an intersection, losing her train of thought for a second.

“And the second thing?” Jin presses.

“Oh, I’m going to fuck the owner.” A thrill shoots through as she imagines those tattooed hands roaming every inch of her skin. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat as her body reacts to her impure thoughts.

“Absolutely love that for you. What’s his name?” Of course he asks her the one question that she doesn’t know the answer to. She rolls her eyes skyward as Jin starts talking shit when he realizes that she didn’t ask her new crush his name.

“I hate you.” She pouts as she turns onto her street. “We have a tasting scheduled for the 17th so I’ll ask him then. I’m almost home so I’ll text you later.”

“Smell ya later.” Oh what she’d give to flip him off right now.

The smile on her face when Ivy walks inside her parents’ house is genuine despite the fact that she’s spent all day doing wedding preparations which normally leaves her in a foul mood. Her high spirits don’t go unnoticed by her mother who is in the backyard pruning her orchids.

“What’s got you so happy?”

“The bakery that did the desserts for the engagement party agreed to do the wedding too. Also,” Ivy lifts the box holding God’s favorite cheesecake in the air. “he gave me a deal on the cheesecake that we liked.”

“Are you serious? He said that he was booked up the entire week of your wedding.” Ivy is a bit taken aback as he had specifically told her that he would be available, but she shrugs it off.

“Maybe he had a cancellation. Do want some cheesecake? This is your only offer because I fully plan to eat the whole thing right now.” Her mother tosses her pruning shears back into the box she keeps them in and follows Ivy into the kitchen where they make quick work of the heavenly dessert.

“Yeosang you fucking dumbass. How are we supposed to do a wedding and an anniversary party in the same damn day? Explain it to me.” Yeosang almost flinches when Yunho yells at him. He can’t think of a time the man has ever raised his voice before now and he’s known him since they were three. Not one to accept disrespect, Yeosang would normally react with anger of his own but even he has to admit that thinking with his dick has put them all in a bind. A socialite wedding and an anniversary party with a guest list longer than his body on the same day is going to take a miracle to pull off.

“Listen these rich people gave us two grand more than they were supposed to as a fucking tip. If they had asked me to get ass naked and let people eat pineapple rings off my dick I would’ve said yes.”

“She had big tits didn’t she?” Jongho typically stays out of their petty arguments but he knows bullshit when he hears it.

“Yes, but,” The room erupts into a cacophony of groans as they all simultaneously throw the closest object at hand Yeosang’s hand. Luckily for him he’s always been quick on his feet. “What’s done is done you fuckwads so get over it and start mixing. We still have orders to fill.”

All eight of them are covered in flour from their frantic baking when they hear the bell jingling up front. Hongjoong happens to be the only one able to immediately stop what he’s doing so he washes his hands and goes to attend to the customer. Yeosang nearly falls backwards off of his stool when he hears the voice of the woman that had put them in such a bind. Wooyoung and San exchange curious glances before they wipes their hands on the front of their aprons and head up front as well. Yeosang feels like his stomach is going to fall out of his ass as one by one they all abandon their posts.

“Satan, why are you doing this to me?”

There’s no reason for him to stay in the back like a coward so he follows suit, wiping his hands and going to the front counter as well. They’re all squished together behind the counter trying to get as close to her as possible. Yeosang shoulders his way between Jongho and Seonghwa and he finally understands why they all look like lovestruck school boys. He finds himself looking just as dopey as his friends when she turns that megawatt smile on him. She’s dressed a lot more casually today in a pair of jeans that had to have been painted on and a plain white baby tee. The little jewel glittering in her belly button looks like its winking at him and he has the overwhelming urge to flick it with his tongue.

“Another cheesecake?” He nods his head towards the box cradled in her hands. She looks sheepish at being caught out. Yeosang thinks it’s cute.

“In my defense, it’s tasty as hell.”

“Just make sure you tell everyone where you got it.” He winks at her playfully which was an incredibly bad idea. She sinks her teeth into her plump lower lip and he knows immediately that despite the massive rock on her finger he would still make a move on her. Time to leave before he does something stupid.

“Alright you lazy sacks of shit, back to work.” They protest just as he’d expected but he pushes them all back towards the kitchen, rolling his eyes as they try to resist him.

“Hey, wait!” Yeosang shouldn’t have turned around. He should’ve kept going as if he hadn’t even heard her, but no, he just has to have manners. She’s propped herself up against the counter that makes her breasts nearly pop out of the scoop neck line of her shirt. “What’s your name?”

“Yeosang.” She repeats it back to him, testing it out on her tongue. Her voice curls around the syllables lusciously and he could die right where he stood. At this point, he’s convinced that she’s made it her life’s mission to ruin him.

Ivy is quick to call Jin when she gets back to her car which seems to be the norm every time she goes to the bakery. She knows that he’s going to make fun of her for being so excited, but she can’t exactly tell her other friends about the hot, tattooed bakery owner that she plans to screw so she’ll suffer the consequences. At least now she actually knows his name so he can’t hold that over her head anymore.

The 17th has finally rolled around which means Ivy has another opportunity to draw Yeosang into her trap. Jin currently sits cross-legged on the bed in his guest room where Ivy had spent the previous night as she models her potential outfit for the day. The yellow slip dress has potential, but Jin isn’t totally impressed. He sends her back into the closet to try on one of her other options. She reappears in a fiery orange tank top tucked into a pair of lightly distressed white jeans.

“Your ass looks great in the jeans so that’s a definite yes, but I’m not really feeling this shirt.” Jin comments as Ivy does a slow turn in front of him. He crosses the room to his closet to help her go through the clothes she’d brought with her to see what her other options are. He eventually helps her settle on a simple black tank top that perfectly molds to the curves of a figure.

“Alright let’s go eat some cake and hopefully get your cakes smashed.” Jin remarks as he herds Ivy towards the door.

When they arrive at the bakery, Yeosang has just finished putting out the tasting plates that he’d prepared. Jin is too focused on the fact that he gets to eat cake before lunch without anyone scolding him for it to notice the way that Yeosang’s face falls when he sees him walking in with Ivy. She doesn’t miss it though. Nevertheless, he reaches out to introduce himself.

“Yeosang. Nice to meet you.” Jin reciprocates his greeting before pulling out a chair for Ivy to sit down in.

Things are all business from there on as Yeosang slides the first cake towards them and Ivy has never been more disappointed in her entire life. Gone is the Yeosang that called her beautiful and responded well to her flirting. She blames Jin.

“So this first one is a spiced vanilla cake with a raspberry cream cheese frosting with a little orange zest.” Ivy is so focused on the way Yeosang’s lips are moving that Jin has to elbow her to bring her back to reality. She sheepishly accepts the fork that she hadn’t realized was being presented to her to taste the masterpiece in front of her.

As they talk about what they like and don’t like about the cake, Yeosang hands them each a scoring cards to rank their favorites. Regardless of the way she feels about him on a personal level, Ivy has to admit that Yeosang is incredibly good at what he does. He was able to take her obsession with his cheesecake and come up with such interesting cake options. She’d been slightly concerned that he hand’t asked for her likes or dislikes in terms of taste, but as they move from cake to cake she realizes that he didn’t need to. Everything tastes amazing. It’s no surprise that each cake receives the highest score possible on their scoring cards. Deciding which one to go with is going to be hell.

“If you don’t let me have the spiced vanilla one we tried first I am calling off this engagement and marrying Yeosang instead of you.” Ivy stands corrected. Yeosang chuckles lowly at Jin’s enthusiasm and the throaty sound sends a shiver down her spine. It’s unfair just how effortlessly attractive he is.

“Okay folks, let’s talk decorations.” Yeosang reaches to his right, pulling a sketch pad from the empty chair next to him. His hand loosely grips a pencil as he waits for Ivy and Jin to throw some ideas at him. Ivy would prefer to throw herself at him instead, but someone how she manages to focus her brain on cake design.

Both Ivy and Jin agree on the fact that they want something simple, but beyond that they have clue what they want. Yeosang busts out a quick sketch of a three tier cake with fondant branches bearing dogwood flowers climbing the height of it. When he presents the rough drawing to them, Ivy immediately falls in love. Thankfully, Jin agrees because she was prepared to fight him over this. They spend a little while longer picking out other desserts for people who don’t want or can’t have cake, but all too soon Yeosang is watching the happy couple disappear from his shop.

The six months until the wedding seem to blend together. Business has picked up significantly in the previous weeks which has been good for Yeosang in more ways than one. The extra cashflow has allowed him to get ahead on some bills while also giving everybody a bit of a raise. According to Seonghwa, who is primarily in charge of the front counter since accidentally slicing his hand open, a lot of the new customers have been big names in the community that are connected to Ivy or her family in one way or another. The woman in question often stops in for a cheesecake. She always asks to speak to Yeosang, claiming to have questions about the wedding though he gets the feeling that she really just wants to talk to him. Every day it gets harder and harder to resist her flirtatious advances. He refuses to be a casual fling for some bored rich girl no matter how much his dick begs him to. Especially one with rapidly approaching nuptials.

Yeosang has never been a very spiritual person, but when he gets the call that the anniversary party he’d scheduled Ivy’s wedding over had been cancelled due to the wife having the flu, he knows that some divine being is looking out for him. He had planned to do his best, but with only one more week left to prepare he was still very unsure of how he was going to pull off two events of that scale in one day. The husband Johnathan Tooney, current district attorney in the next county over, sounds shocked on the phone when he offers them a full refund despite the fact that his contracts states that customers are only entitled to a fifty percent refund of any money paid if the event is cancelled the week of. Most of his customers pay half upfront and the remaining half afterwards, but they had chosen to pay for everything up front. Something Yeosang had greatly appreciated as it was a $2,600 job. Ultimately, Mr. Tooney tells him not to as they intend to reschedule the party as soon as his wife is feeling better and would still like for him to provide the desserts they’d contracted for.

The guys are all equally relieved when Yeosang delivers the news of the anniversary party’s cancellation. Things are smooth sailing from there as they throw all of their focus and energy into making sure that everything will be ready for the wedding next weekend. Not surprisingly, Ivy doesn’t make an appearance in the bakery that week, but what is surprising is that Yeosang finds himself actually missing her presence. Despite his avoidance of all her flirting, he actually likes talking to Ivy whenever she comes in. She may be a bored rich girl but her mind is just as captivating as the rest of her.

On the day of the ceremony, Yeosang is uncharacteristically antsy. He’s not sure what it is but he can’t seem to sit still no matter what he does. He’s itching to get this day over with so Mingi can buy him the beer he owes him. Wooyoung scolds him for being distracted when he almost drops one of the cake tiers on his way to load it into one of the delivery vans. No one has to vocalize just how disastrous that would’ve been because they all know but missing an opportunity to call people out on their shit is just not in Wooyoung’s nature.

“Look, I know you’re feeling some type of way because your crush is marrying a pretty boy that’s not you but I’m going to need you to at least pretend that you still want to get paid for this job.” Yeosang nods in acknowledgment because while he doesn’t like being yelled at like a child even he knows that he’s got to get his shit together and quickly.

“Notice how he didn’t deny his crush on cheesecake girl though.” San pipes up as he hops into the drivers seat of the van. Everyone snickers, switching to full on laughter when Yeosang flips them all off.

Thankfully, the reception goes off without a hitch. The wait staff helps set up the extensive dessert table to save on time and it comes out just as Yeosang had envisioned it. He snaps a few pictures for the bakery’s website before they leave venue. Ivy and Jin had extended invitations to Yeosang and his staff to stay for the reception, but they’d all politely declined. They’re on their way out of the service entrance when one of the girls on the wait staff runs out with two giant paper bags in her hands. Apparently, Ivy had included enough meals in her catering package to feed the vendors that would be in the building on her big day which coincidentally included Yeosang and his gang of merry bakers. They’re all taken aback by the thoughtfulness of the gesture as Yeosang accepts the bags from the staff member who quickly runs back inside the dining hall.

“Cheesecake girl is a fucking saint.” Mingi hardly ever garners emphatic agreement from the rest of his friend group but today is one of those rare occasions.

Business continues as normal following the wedding. Product is flying out of the display case. Catering orders are still coming in left and right. Ivy still stops in once a week for a cheesecake and to flirt with Yeosang. The guys still tease him for his crush on said married woman. Everything is normal.

Until it’s not.

Jin looks like freshly printed money when he strolls into Bad Boy Bakery for the first time since the cake tasting all those months ago. The silver band on his ring finger glitters even in the fluorescent lighting. Yeosang is finishing up his closing routine when he hears the bell and emerges from his office.

“Seokjin?” The manila folder clasped in the other man’s hands makes Yeosang nervous. The last time someone in a suit approached him with a manila folder he was being presented with a plea deal and ended up doing ten months in jail for assault and grand larceny.

“We need to talk. I’ll wait for you to finish up.” Jin takes a seat at an empty table and hums to himself as he waits for Yeosang to join him.

He doesn’t have to wait long for the young business owner to emerge from his office with his keys and a denim jacket in hand. The mischievous smile on Jin’s face makes him uneasy, but he’s no bitch. Yeosang steels his nerves and schools his facial expression into one of bland indifference. He arches an eyebrow when Jin slides the folder across the table and produces a pen from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. The folder may as well be a poisonous spider with the way Yeosang refuses to touch it.

“Whatever you think it is, I promise it’s not that.” Yeosang stares Jin down for a few seconds, looking for anything at all that would suggest he should end this whole interaction right now. He doesn’t find it.

With a resigned sigh, Yeosang flips through the contents of an envelope. He shoots Jin a look when he realizes that he’s currently skimming over a nondisclosure agreement. It looks to be focused around Ivy and Jin’s marriage. The word arranged jumps out him a few times and his eyes nearly bug out of his head. The agreement is vague on the finer details but Yeosang is comfortable enough with what he’s read to quickly scrawl his name at the bottom of the last page. Jin signs his name as witness and neatly tucks everything back into the manila folder.

“Now that we have that out of the way.” Jin relaxes back into the chair and fiddles with his wedding band. “Ivy likes you. She’ll never admit that because she’s stubborn but she likes you and wants you fold her like a towel.”

“Wait, wait, wait, are you saying that your wife wants to have sex with me? How are you okay with this?” Yeosang has always loved forbidden fruit but ruining relationships was the old him. He doesn’t know what to do with this information. Furthermore, he can’t imagine being married to someone like Ivy and being okay with her sleeping with someone else.

“That’s where the NDA comes in.” Yeosang sits in stunned silence as Jin gives him the true behind the scenes story about he and Ivy’s marriage and it’s nothing like the best friends to lovers trope that they’ve fed to society. Well, he guesses the best friend part is true, but they’ve definitely never been anything close to lovers and never will be. They’re simply holding up their end of a decades-old business deal. According to Jin, he and Ivy have already devised a plan to be divorced in a year.

“So,” Yeosang is a bit unsure on how to proceed. This is uncharted territory. “what exactly are you saying to me?”

“Stop feeling bad about wanting to fuck Ivy and just do it. She’s driving me insane at home talking about how hot you are all the time and I can’t take it anymore. She’s out of cheesecake so she’ll be in here within the next couple of days so make your move. Discreetly.”

Yeosang lays in bed that night still shocked at everything he’s learned today. His mind and body have been at war over what he believes to be right and what his body craves. He’d love nothing more than to worship Ivy from head to toe and before today it had been a pipe dream. Now that he’s been given the green light, he’s still conflicted. It feels too good to be true. But he plans to take full advantage of all the good that comes his way until shit decides to hit the fan.

Ivy gives herself a final once over in the mirror. Her outfit is simple. Just a black bodycon dress paired with a denim jacket and her red converse. According to Jin, she should look like she’s making an effort but not too much of one. She’s hoping that this will do the trick as she grabs for her keys and purse, stuffing her phone into the latter as she waits for the elevator to reach the ground floor.

She wants to call Jin for some last minute encouragement on the way over, but he’s being a boring businessman today and is in the middle of a meeting. Ivy is totally on her own and she’s panicking. Hopefully, Yeosang finds her nervousness cute enough to overlook the awkwardness.

When Ivy enters the bakery, one of Yeosang’s friends is manning the counter. A gentle giant with a kind smile. She remembers that his name also starts with a Y like Yeosang’s but she can’t put her finger on exactly what it is.

“Hey, cheesecake girl!” Ivy rolls her eyes humorously at the nickname the other guys in the bakery have given her. She can’t help that the damned cheesecake tastes as good as it does. Before the wedding, she’d had to up her trips to the gym from zero to one just to make sure she’d still be able to fit into her dress on her wedding day.

Her heart drops a little when she scans the display case but sees no sign of the dessert that her soul craves. Yunho laughs are disappointment before disappearing into the kitchen. He returns with a box, smiling at the way her eyes light up.

“Yeosang is with the other guys on a job, but he said you’d be in today so he boxed it up before he left.” He slides the box across the glass countertop into her waiting hands. Ivy digs in her purse for her card to pay for the cheesecake, but Yunho is quick to stop her.

“This one’s on the house. Boss’ orders.” Ivy is a bit taken aback. Hand frozen in her purse. Yeosang makes sure that she always pays a discount rate for her cheesecake, but she’s never gotten one for free before.

“Oh…okay. Well, have a good day.”

It isn’t until she gets back to Jin’s place — well she guesses it’s her place now too — that she realizes why Yeosang had decided to pre-package her cheesecake this time. A phone number is scrawled on the inside of the lid with a quick message from Yeosang asking her to call him. She squeals as frantically scrambles to pull her phone from the recesses of her bag. Yunho had told her that Yeosang was out on a job so she texts him instead of calling so as not to disturb him.

She is happily digging her fork into a second piece of cheesecake when Ivy randomly recalls something weird that Jin had said this morning when he left for work. She was still half asleep and barely human, but now here she sits at the dining room table replaying the strange sentence that her brain had decided to finally comprehend.

Don’t forget to call the baker.

Ivy hadn’t been in the right headspace to question it then, but now that the puzzle pieces are clicking into place, it’s becoming painfully obvious that Jin had something to do with the reason she’s anxiously checking her phone every five minutes. The part of her that wants to chase him with a butter sock is overridden by the much larger part that wants to thank him profusely for whatever it is that he did. Unlike Jin, Ivy doesn’t have a harem of men, women, and others lined up to satisfy her needs whenever he’s feeling inclined.

She’s three episodes into a Cold Justice marathon when her phone rings, scaring the living daylights out of her. It’s Yeosang. Ivy’s eyes widen comically as she freaks out over what to do. She chugs the rum and coke she’d been nursing and picks up the call.

“Hello?” She cringes at how apprehensive she sounds even to her own ears.

“Hello, Ivy.” He sounds tired which has given his voice a gravelly edge to it that’s making her blood sing. “I saw your message and thought it would just be easier to call you.”

Ivy isn’t surprised in the slightest when Yeosang tells her about Jin’s visit to the bakery the night before. That’s a typical Jin move to jump the chain of command to accomplish a job. Yeosang doesn’t seem to bothered by the strangeness of it all. He seems more relieved that his guilt for lusting after a taken woman has been absolved if anything.

“This is a first for me so I’m not exactly sure what to do.” Yeosang trails off. He’s out of his element here. It goes without saying that there will be no romantic dinners at expensive restaurants or long walks to the beach.

“This is a first for me too, but you’re a hot baker that laughs at my stupid jokes and I like that.” His throaty laugh in response makes her chest swell with pride at

“I still want to take you on a date though so I guess your place or mine?”

Yeosang is sweating bullets as he punches in the elevator code for the penthouse suite in the swanky high rise at the address Ivy had given him. In his Michael Jackson t-shirt, ripped jeans, and sneakers, he knows that he sticks out like a sore thumb, but thankfully no one in the lobby had vocalized that to his face. He adjusts his duffel bag on his shoulder as the elevator smoothly ascends to the top floor. He’s been ecstatic when Ivy had told him that she wanted him to come spend the weekend with her since Jin would be out of town on business. This is going to be the first time that he’s seen her in person since they agreed to their little arrangement and he’s nervous to say the least.

The doors silently reveal a posh sitting area as well a lacquered black door adorned with a silver “P”. Yeosang grins at the door mat just outside the door. It depicts a crudely drawn cat with both middle fingers upturned and the words “fuck off” written in a speech bubble. It looks just as out of place as he does and for whatever reason it makes him feel more at ease. He reaches out to press the doorbell but the door is yanked open before he even gets the chance.

“Jesus Christ you scared me!” If his hands weren’t full of groceries, Yeosang would’ve clutched at his rapidly beating heart. Ivy chuckles, pointing to a little black dot above the door.

“We have cameras.”

She grabs for a few of the bags in his hands, but he twists and turns to block her efforts. Their childish antics continue until Yeosang has finally had enough. He crouches down until he’s able to wrap his arms around her thighs, delighting in her squeal when he successfully lifts her from the ground. Ivy swats at his shoulders, but the brute simply crosses the threshold, kicking the door shut with his foot before walking deeper into her home. This first “date” is off to a great start.

“So what’s on the agenda for today, Mr. Kang?” Ivy drums on the marble countertop enthusiastically as she watches Yeosang unpack the groceries he’d brought with him.

“As much as I love a good paying customer, It’s time for you to learn how to make this cheesecake yourself.”

“You better hope I suck at it or I’ll put you out of business.”

“I don’t mind a little competition.” Yeosang smiles deviously. “Especially when the rivals look as pretty as you.”

Ivy feels her cheeks heat up in the face of such flirtation and she’s never been more thankful for the fact that her darker complexion hides the evidence of it. She’s come to know him well enough to know that he would definitely rib her for that.

As it turns out, Ivy is a natural born baker. Yeosang’s heart swells in his chest as he watches her sway her hips to the music she’d turned on as she stirs the berry compote on the stove. His chest bumps against her back as he steps up behind her and he swears he sees her shiver. He rests his head on her shoulder, covering his hand with hers and slows down the speed of her stirring.

“You have to be gentle with the berries, love.” At the sound of his voice so close to her ear, Ivy’s insides turn to goo.

“Maybe I don’t want to be gentle.” Her words hit him square in the chest and he wants to respond in so many ways, but he settles for a chaste kiss on her temple. He’d briefly contemplated taking it slow with her, but they’ve been dancing around each other for nearly seven months at this point and there’s no point in prolonging the inevitable. The wanton desire is mutual on both sides but he wants to hear her beg. Wants her desperate and needy for him.

He eventually removes his hand from hers, choosing to instead hold onto her hips as he continues to coach her through the next steps. She’s so focused on keeping her berries from sticking that Yeosang is able to catch her off guard when he slips his hands inside her tank top to rest them against her bare skin. The gasp she lets out makes him smile deviously. His hands drift up from her lower stomach until his thumbs are brushing the lacy cups of her bra. It’s Yeosang’s turn to be caught off guard when she presses her ass firmly against his front. The way she subsequently swivels her hips is nearly his undoing, but Yeosang has a game plan and he intends to see it through.

“You’re a naughty girl, Ivy.” He lowers a hand to tug on the elastic waistband of the tiny shorts she’s wearing, letting it snap back in place. She hisses at the sting but, if the way her head lolls back onto his shoulder is any indication, she loved it. Yeosang slides his hand lower as if he’s going to cup her over her shorts only to completely remove himself from her.

He busies himself with other things around the kitchen but he can feel her glare on him the entire time. She grumbles something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like the words “teasing asshole” but he choose to ignore it. For now.

Ivy is visibly on edge as she waits for Yeosang to touch her again, but he doesn’t make a single move to do so. He simply dances around her in the kitchen as they finish up their cheesecake preparation. It has to cool once they take it out of the oven so they migrate to the living room while they wait. The episode of Bones that Ivy been watching before he’d arrived is still paused on the tv so she restarts it and settles in next to Yeosang on the couch. She lets out a girlish squeal when he hauls her into his lap instead. He spreads her legs so that they straddle both of his, letting out a content sigh as he rests his chin on her shoulder. Arms wrapped securely around her waist.

He waits until she’s engrossed in the episode. Certain that he’s going to keep his hands to himself. If he’d been able to see her face, he would’ve been able to see the devious grin as she devised a plan of her own. Ivy shifts her legs around until both of her feet are planted on the floor between Yeosang’s. She swivels her hips in the cradle of his lap, snickering at the groan he lets out. Two can play this teasing game. She grabs both of his hands in her own and lifts them to her breasts. Yeosang just lets them linger there. This is her show now and he wants to see her directing skills firsthand.

With her physical encouragement, he pinches her erect nipples through the thin layers of her shirt and bra. The breathy sigh in response to his touch gives him a high that he can quickly see himself becoming addicted to. She ups the ante by dislodging his hands to remove her shirt and bra. She places his hands back on her chest, sighing once more at the feel of him kneading her breasts without any hindrances. Yeosang licks and sucks at the column of her neck. He’s careful not to leave any marks which he’s sure she’ll be appreciative of later. Her needs grows and grows until she’s craving more than what he’s giving her.

“Yeosang,” The way she half moans his name sounds like the sweetest melody. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you, baby girl.” She grunts in frustration. Looks like she’ll have to take matters into her own hands once more.

Yeosang is shocked when Ivy suddenly rises to her feet. He’s more than confused as he watches her disappear down a hallway off to the right of the living room. His breath catches in his throat when her shorts suddenly fly back into view followed closely by a pair of panties that match the bra on the floor by his right foot. He nearly falls over in his haste to catch up to her. He finds her in the bedroom that she’d pointed out as hers when she’d given him a quick tour earlier. She’s reclined amongst the mountain of pillows circling her swollen clit with her middle finger as she fondles one of her breasts. Her mouth is slightly ajar from the pleasure and he swears that he’s never seen a sight more breathtaking. Yeosang swallows, trying to get his wits about him when she speaks and breaks him out of his daze.

“Clothes off, babe.” His limbs are a blur as he rushes to follow her instructions. With every inch of skin he reveals, Ivy finds herself falling deeper and deeper into his trap.

She’d seen the tattoos that covered his arms and the back of his right hand, but the Hebrew script running down his side is new to her and she makes a mental note to ask him what it says later. Right now she wants nothing more than for him to hold her down with his weight and make her his. Yeosang’s eyes are practically glued to her center so shiny from her arousal. He licks his lips at the thought of how good she probably tastes and the mere idea of having her on his tongue nearly consumes him.

Yeosang tugs on his hardened cock as he slowly walks towards the oversized bed. She’s mesmerized by the appendage standing proud between his legs. It’s not over long but he can barely get his own fist around it so she knows that the stretch will be phenomenal when he finally gets inside. He grabs her by both ankles and pulls her into the center of the bed so that she’s flat on her back. She squirms in anticipation as he crawls over her. Lips and hands caressing every inch of her skin that they can reach. She moans deep in her throat when he finally covers her lips with his own in their first ever kiss. Her fingers find purchase in his hair, holding him to her as they ravage each other. Each exhale from her lips traded for his.

Ivy is brought back to the task at hand when a needy thrust of Yeosang’s hips has the engorged head of his erection pressing against her clit. She bites down on his bottom lip at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, rolling her hips up to get more of the addictive friction.

“Gotta taste you. Want you to cum in my mouth.” Yeosang’s words don’t match up with his actions as he continues to peck her lips over and over again. Eager to discover if his tongue is just as talented as his hands, Ivy pulls away to gently push at his head until he gets the message.

The first swipe of his tongue on her soaked flesh is purely self-indulgent. He’s thrilled to discover that she tastes just as sweet as he thought she would. Like the nectar of a fresh honeydew. He sucks her clit into his mouth, biting down on it gently before swirling his tongue around it to soothe the ache. Her eyes roll into the back of her head and she can’t decide if she wants to run from or towards his mouth. She doesn’t get the chance to decide as Yeosang anchors her squirming hips to the bed with one of his arms.

He teases her entrance with a single finger, smirking at the filthy curses falling from her lips as she begs him to make her cum. He gives her clit a particularly harsh suck as he sinks his finger in deep. Her breathing starts coming in quick pants when he adds a second finger and then a third. When she starts folding in on herself, he pulls his fingers from her dripping hole. Her suddenly empty hole clenches around nothing as she complains about being denied the orgasm she was dancing on the edge of.

Her complaints die on her tongue when she takes in the sight of Yeosang walking on his knees towards her. Ivy sits up and meets him halfway. She can taste herself on his tongue as their lips meet for the second time and it has a fresh tidal wave of arousal all but gushing from her. His waning self-control is evident in the way he turns her around to face her headboard, pushing on her shoulders until she’s face down in in the sheets.

She whimpers at the heavy smack he rains down on her ass. He groans at the way it bounces before he grips both cheeks in his hands, pulling them apart to get a proper view of her waiting entrance. Part of him wants to tease her some more, but he doesn’t have it in him to wait one more minute. She nearly sobs at the satisfying stretch of him sinking into her eager flesh in one smooth thrust. He grinds his hips against her ass, relishing in the way her walls are hugging him so tightly. She clenches around him, trying to draw him back in as he eases his hips back only to roughly thrust his length back into her. He repeats that action a few more times to open her up before finally breaking loose.

All forms of speech beyond broken curse words and his name are lost to Ivy as Yeosang demolishes her. His pace builds till it’s almost frantic. It feels like his length is vibrating within her and she can feel her orgasm approaching quickly. She tries to warn him, but he is already well aware. He slows his hips down to a gentle roll and the change in pace has her seeing stars as he can now expertly target that sensitive spot deep within her. He reaches underneath her to rub circles in her clit and she’s lost. Black dots dance around across her vision as the pleasure threatens to completely drag her under. His hips never stop moving as he fucks her through it. The erratic clenching of her inner walls soon proves to be too much for him. He pulls out of her wet heat just in time to release his seed onto her back.

Ivy collapses onto her stomach. Exhausted beyond measure. Yeosang falls next to her breathing just as hard. He’s not going to lie and pretend that he hasn’t dived into more than his fair share of pussy, but that was easily the best sex he’s ever had. He can barely breathe but that doesn’t stop him from leaning over to press his lips against hers once more. Their chests are still heaving when they separate, choosing instead to lean his forehead against hers.

“I can’t feel my legs.” She whispers on a breathless laugh.

“Good thing I’m the king of aftercare.” He pecks her lips once more before crossing the room to her en suite bathroom to get a warm towel to clean her up with. By the time he returns, she’s fast asleep much to his surprise. Normally, Yeosang likes to end his trysts with a massage, but she’s sleeping so peacefully. He cleans up his mess before sliding back into the bed next to her as he pulls a spare blanket over them.

Yeosang awakens the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of coffee brewing. A shower is definitely in order before he seeks out Ms. Ivy. He walks into the kitchen a little while later to find her cooking breakfast in his t-shirt. It’s so domestic that for a moment he forgets that she’s legally spoken for until her wedding ring catches the sunlight from the picture windows.

“Morning.” He whispers into her ear. She jumps at the sound, obviously not realizing that he was awake yet. She relaxes against him when he wraps his arms around her midsection.

“Good morning, handsome. I’m almost done if you wanna grab some plates.” Yeosang preens at the compliment, kissing her cheek an obnoxious amount of times before grabbing plates and some silverware.

The sound of their forks clinking against their plates as they eat fills the pleasant silence as the two adults make faces across the table at each other like children. Yeosang can’t remember the last time he was this comfortable with a woman he was seeing. For the millionth time since he woke up this morning, he finds himself resenting the fact that she’s married.

“I can feel you staring.” Yeosang doesn’t bother looking up see Ivy’s facial expression at being caught as he rinses the last breakfast dish to put in the drying rack. “Spit it out before I get old and feeble.”

“What does the tattoo on your side say?” He looks up at her then, searching her face. Ivy is beginning to feel that she shouldn’t have said anything the longer Yeosang remains silent. He drys his hands on a towel, walking towards Ivy where she sits sprawled across one of the cushy armchairs in the living room. He lifts her only to set her back down in his lap.

“May you rescue us from the hand of every foe, ambush along the way, and from all manner of punishments that assemble to come to earth.” Yeosang absentmindedly strokes his fingers back and forth across Ivy’s bare thigh. “It’s part of a Hebrew prayer of protection that my mom made me get when she realized that her scolding was falling on deaf ears.”

Ivy can’t help but giggle as Yeosang enthusiastically re-enacts his mother’s words all those years ago. She’s seen the articles in the local magazines. They all tell the same story of a young street kid that found his calling and turned his life around, but words on a piece of paper doesn’t capture the nuance of who Kang Yeosang is. He doesn’t shy away from who he was. He embraces it with open arms. She listens intently as he tells the story that will never be found in any magazine. The story of how he successfully graduated from small-time dealing to running guns, drugs, and the occasional fine artifact when he was only twenty three.

“Would you do it differently if you had the chance?” Ivy picks at the hem of the Thriller he’d been wearing the day before as she awaits his answer. She’s admittedly shocked when he he gives an emphatic no.

“It wasn’t exactly something I could put on my resume, but it set this part of my life into motion.” She leans her head into the crook of his neck. Lulled into comfortable security by the vibration of his vocal cords. “I learned how to run a business. Granted, it was illegal, but I baked my first cake in jail which is what ultimately led to me opening the bakery and then meeting you.”

Time is a forgotten concept as they sit in the armchair sharing embarrassing childhood stories and fleeting kisses when they just can’t help themselves. That’s how Jin finds them. Giggling like teenagers that have finally earned closed door privileges. Yeosang freezes when he notices Jin’s still unsure how to act around him. Ivy on the other hand is excited to welcome her best friend back home.

“Jinnie!” She hops up to give him a quick hug and peck on the cheek before returning to her perch on Yeosang’s lap. Awkwardness is radiating off of the man beneath her in near tangible waves. He visibly relaxes when Ivy buries her fingers in the hair at the back of his head to scratch at his scalp.

“I missed you too, Vee. Good to see you again, Mr. Kang.” Jin winks conspiratorially at Yeosang as he cracks open the bottle of water he’d snagged from the refrigerator. “Take good care of my wife.” He adds as a parting shot on his way down the hall to his bedroom which sends Ivy into a fit of curses. Yeosang finds himself cracking a smile at the sound of Jin’s laughter somewhere down the hall.

It’s not the most conventional situation by any means, but Yeosang feels like he can make this work. He glances down at the grumbling woman in his arms. Yeah, he can definitely make this work.

Yeosang is elbow deep in bread dough for a new recipe he’s working on when he hears his phone ringing where he’d left it on the charger in his bedroom. He’s supposed to be heading to Ivy’s later tonight and he’s hoping to have her taste test his new bread when he gets there, meaning he can have no interruptions so he lets his phone go to voicemail. His phone rings again, but this time the song it plays catches his attention. The Alina Baraz song he’d set for Ivy’s ringtone drifts down the hallway. He instantly cracks a smile at the thought of the woman on the other end of that phone call. Passing up an opportunity to hear her voice is beyond Yeosang’s capabilities so he extracts himself from the dough, making a mad dash for the ringing device.

“Hey, babe.” She sniffles in his ear and all of his sense are suddenly on high alert. In all of the months since they started dating he can’t recall her crying. Ever. She’s just too happy. His mind runs through a myriad of horrible possibilities like film cuts. “Ivy, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I need you.” Yeosang has absolutely no idea what’s going on but his heart feels like it’s being ripped in two at the sound of her crying. He pulls his phone away from his ear when it pings. He has to swallow to keep himself together when he sees that Ivy has sent him her location.

“I’m on my way, baby. I’m coming.”

The other cars on the road look like blurs as Yeosang weaves between and around them at break neck speed. The hospital that Ivy is at is supposed to be a twenty seven minute drive according to google maps, but Yeosang is parking his mustang exactly sixteen minutes later. He’s honestly surprised that he wasn’t pulled over on the way, but his euphoric disbelief is short-lived as he dashes towards the front doors of the hospital.

“Can I help you?” The woman manning the front looks at Yeosang with a barely concealed air of distaste. He follows her eyes to his tattooed arms on display in the short sleeved shirt he’s wearing. He’s still pretty much covered in flour from his bread making and he can tell that she doesn’t think much of him. Normally, he would make an attempt to assuage people like her and show that tattoos don’t make the man, but he doesn’t have time for that.

“I’m looking for Ivy Kim.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny whether or not we have someone here by that name.”

“Listen, lady if you-” Yeosang is on the verge of falling into the trap of the old wench’s bias when he hears his name being called. He turns his head to see Jin waving him over from where he’s holding the elevator doors open. He flips the old lady off, delighting in her scandalized gasp as he jogs towards the bay of elevators.

Now that he’s closer, Yeosang notices the cuts and bruises that litter his friend’s face. He looks like he’s been beat pretty good, but he brushes off any questions about what happened. Yeosang is on the verge of choking on his nerves as he follows Jin off of the elevator to room 437.

“I’m going to get some coffee. You guys need to talk.” Jin claps Yeosang on the shoulder once as he goes back the way they came.

He’d risked life and limb to get here, but now he’s afraid to take one more step. He has no idea what’s going on, but he can feel it in his bones that nothing will be the same once he steps through this door. Yeosang’s phone vibrates just then with a notification from the Nike app about some stuff he left in his cart. The little nike swoosh on his phone screen feels like a divine sign for him to stop being such a pussy and go in the room.

Seeing Ivy curled into a ball in the middle of the hospital bed is nearly his undoing. The tears steadily streaming down her face catch the light from the hallway when she turns her head to see who it is. A sob racks her figure as she reaches for him. Yeosang shuts the door, plunging the room back into darkness as he rushes to her side. He’s not used to her looking this fragile and it’s killing him. He kicks his shoes off and climbs into the bed next to her, careful not to jostle the IV needle in her arm. She leans into his touch as he brushes her hair away from her face. The fabric of his shirt is no match for the barrage of tears that Ivy dumps on it. He lets her cry until she has nothing left. For a moment he thinks that she’s fallen asleep, but she whispers something against the skin of his neck. Her voice is so low that he can’t make it out even with her lips being mere inches from his hair.

“You’ve gotta speak up for me, love.” This time when she speaks, he hears her loud and clear.

“I lost our baby.”

He can hear her saying something about a car accident and blood, but her words don’t register in his brain. Yeosang feels like the ground has opened up beneath him, but he’s not falling. Simply hovering, drifting in the void. He hadn’t even known she was pregnant and that’s definitely something Ivy would have told him so he’s guessing that she didn’t know either. Visions of a tiny child with her doe-like eyes and his nose flash across his minds eye. Yeosang has never given much thought to being a father, but knowing that he’d created a child with Ivy only for them to be ripped away like this is tearing him apart. He holds her impossibly close, trying to anchor himself to reality. Tears are flowing down his own face as he attempts to process what they’ve lost.

“This is all my fault.” The guilt in her voice is nearly palpable. Yeosang cups her face in his hands to force her to look him in the eye.

“You did nothing wrong, Ivy. Get that thought out of you head right now, do you hear me?” Ivy nods her head slowly but Yeosang is not naive. No matter what he says, it’s going to take a while before she actually believes the truth in his words.

Jin hates to interrupt them. He loathes it, but life is cruel and Ivy’s parents just texted him that they just parked their car and are on their way inside. His feet feel heavy as he treks back down the hallway. He pokes his head into the dark room and winces at the muffled sound of them crying together.

“I’m so sorry guys, but Ivy’s parents are on their way up.” Yeosang gets the urge to laugh despite the fact that absolutely nothing is funny. This is just adding insult to injury.

Ivy clings to him like a koala when he tries to stand and he’s got half a mind to say fuck the consequences and stay. That wouldn’t be fair to Jin though. He harbors no ill will towards the man even though he’s living the life he wants so for his sake, he extricates himself from Ivy’s grasp to put his shoes on. Her bottom lip quivers dangerously as he leans down to softly kiss her forehead. Jin pulls Yeosang into a hug before he can walk past him and it takes a herculean effort for Yeosang to keep it together. His heart aches with every step he takes towards the exit stairs. It feels like someone is taking a jackhammer to his chest.

He leans his head back against the headrest when he finally reaches his car. A pained yell bursts from his throat before he can even think of trying to stop it. His horn beeps erratically as he pounds at his steering wheel in anger. Yeosang has been through hell in his twenty six years on Earth and yet, he can’t recall a time when he’s ever felt this much mental anguish and despair. Part of him wishes that he’d never stopped slinging coke and running the streets because he’d have never met Ivy and thus would’ve never experienced this. He hates that thought the second it materializes.

The shrill ringing of an old school phone that Yunho had insisted on having as his ringtone breaks through his misery. Yeosang has no desire to utter a word to anyone other than Ivy but Yunho is a persistent bastard. He’ll just keep calling until he gets an answer. He clears his throat and hopes that his childhood best friend is having an off day with those damn spidey senses of is.

“Hello?”

“Dude, have you been crying? No wonder my spirit is unsettled. The fuck is going on?” So much for eluding Yunho’s questions. Yeosang huffs out a shaky breath. He’s not even sure he’s even fully grasped what’s going on himself. He can hear the sound of keys jingling on Yunho’s end.

“Listen, I’m gonna go buy an obnoxious amount of alcohol and then I’m coming over to you place. See you in twenty.” Yunho doesn’t wait for a response, hanging up the phone with a sense of finality.

True to his word, Yunho’s car is parked in front of his building when Yeosang makes it home. His car is empty, so he’s guessing that he must have used his key and gone inside already. He’s not surprised to find Yunho nursing a beer on his couch as he scrolls through something on his phone. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in Yeosang’s haggard appearance. He knows he looks like shit so Yunho’s reaction isn’t unexpected.

It’s nearly three in the morning when they finally crash. Yunho is passed out in the guest room but sleep evades him despite the multiple beers swirling through his system. If he was sober, he probably wouldn’t make this decision, but he’s far from it so he reaches for his phone to FaceTime Ivy. The second her face replaces his on the screen, Yeosang immediately feels like he can breathe again. He’d been avoiding the feeling before now, but after everything that’s happened in the last twenty four hours? He’s tired of beating around the bush.

“I love you, Ivy.” The smile that spreads across her tired face brings Yeosang so much joy. There’s no telling how long it’s been since she’s graced the world with one of her radiant smiles. He takes it as a victory that he was the one to bring that out of her.

“I love you too, Yeosang.”

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