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retrievablememories · 4 years ago

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tokyo 2112 | baekhyun (m)

title: tokyo 2112 pairing: rich guy!baekhyun x reader genre: sci-fi/cyberpunk au, enemies to lovers, angst, non-explicit smut request: “hi, how are you? 💕 could i request some cyberpunk x baekhyun fic? i have in mind Tokyo, neon lights and explosive lovers. please feel free to choose the amount you want to write or you can. and thanks! ✨” word count: 12.8k warnings: body modifications/prosthetics, attempted robbery, physical violence (not between bh x reader, though reader does think about fighting him 💀), blood, non-graphic wounds, mentions of sex/one non-explicit sex scene, mentions of a car accident, frequent alcohol use/unhealthy reliance on alcohol, smoking, mentions of classism/poverty, mentions of experimentation, surgery is performed on the reader but not described, one mention of being weighed on a scale-like device a/n: this is my first real, lengthy attempt at enemies2lovers (or maybe just the genre “reader’s an a-hole who makes a lot of assumptions”) because i’m a clown and like to challenge myself for no reason...and this is why i don’t fool with this particular romance genre 💀 feedback is appreciated, this fic is just a whole lot of me experimentally punching above my weight and i’m a bit undecided on my feelings about it

also, i imagined the reader’s arm with a similar structure to the winter soldier’s, for reference

Tokyo, year 2112

You meet him in a Lower Tokyo club, the neon lights bleeding into each other and creating a deep, vivid landscape. It’s an unnaturally pretty scene—unnatural like everyone and everything else inside this club.

There’s a look of subdued wonder on his face, which makes you roll your eyes. He’s all made up and way too pretty to be in this dingy club with his gaudy piercings and expensive rings. Still, he enters the building in all his affluent glory, standing out against the crowd of gritty and cobbled-together androids and half-humans.

He’s a rich man’s son and an even richer man’s grandson. He’s known for being attractive, intelligent, and ridiculously rich—and that’s about all you know of the man himself. Him and his family have been excellent at keeping their personal lives air-tight, only ever letting the public know what they want everyone to know. But ultimately, they are only human. You know they cannot be as perfect as they try to maintain, and you can only imagine the unsavory things in their family history that go much deeper than anyone could ever think up.

“Do you think he wears all that to make up for the lack of enhancements?” Your friend Valor asks. He’s gesturing specifically to the man’s lip piercing and the chains hanging off of it, attached to the collar of his shirt. It’s a little strange, but it’s a signature look for him, and certainly not one of the weirder things in here.

“I’d like to rip it right out,” you reply in lieu of an actual answer to Valor’s question.

The man appears misplaced—like a researcher conducting a study of alien beings rather than a regular club goer—though he doesn’t seem to mind this. He just observes everything around him.

Valor chuckles and shakes his head at the display, throwing back another shot. “Weird.”

“Hm. Come on.” You steer Valor in the other direction, looking to get away from the man before he can get near your area of the club. Though this is your first time being in such close quarters with Byun Baekhyun despite his popularity across Tokyo, you’d like to cut things short if at all possible.

Another hour passes, and the drinks keep flowing. Your mind has gotten pleasantly hazy by now, almost enough to make you forget about the trespasser in your club scene. Almost.

You, Valor, and three other familiar faces sit at a small table near the back of the club. One of the guys is recounting some run-in he had the other week with the Droid Commission, though you can barely hear over the music that’s only getting louder, so you just nod and pretend to understand. However, he suddenly falters in his tale and his eyes dart up to a spot above your head. Turning back, you see that he is standing just over your shoulder. Without thinking, you recoil.

Baekhyun slides from behind you and comes to stand in front of you all now, a strangely convivial smile on his face. He acts like he’s merely visiting you all at brunch instead of standing in a club in the roughest part of the city.

“Exquisite work here,” he says, though his words drown in all the noise. None of you know what he’s saying, or who he’s saying it to. Noticing the acute confusion, Baekhyun lowers himself to your level, his scent passing across your nose as he does. Some robust and fancy cologne you don’t know the name of. Your eyebrows furrow at his proximity, and your blood rushes; maybe out of anger, or maybe just from being drunk. Then he touches your left shoulder, right where the metal of your arm connects to your living flesh.

Yeah, definitely anger.

“I said, this work is exquisite. Quite fascinating, really. Who made it?” Baekhyun has to get fairly close to your ear for you to hear him above the commotion, and you can feel the heat of his mouth next to your skin. His eyes travel the length of your arm, which is fully exposed in your tank top. His voice is irritatingly smooth, and the chains of his lip ring lightly brush your shoulder when he pulls back after he finishes speaking. Though your arm may be made of metal, it still has artificial sensory “nerves” running through it that connect it to the rest of your nervous system—and right now, they are screaming from that slight touch.

Maybe you really are just too damn drunk.

You look into Baekhyun’s dark eyes, which are imploring, coy, and playful all at once. The others at your table watch this interaction as if suspended in time, probably trying to process the sheer nerve of this dude.

“Fuck off,” you blurt out, and brush him off your shoulder with your flesh hand.

He remains unoffended; he even looks entertained by your blunt rejection.

The man who was previously telling his story speaks up. “You heard her. Fuck off, pretty boy.”

Baekhyun straightens up and nods, then reaches into his jacket. Two of the men leap to their feet, thinking he’s about to pull out a weapon—which would not be the first or last occurrence in this club—but he only brings out a business card, tucked between two of his fingers.

“Ever vigilant, aren’t you?” Baekhyun says, laying the card on the small tabletop. Then he directs his next sentence to you. “If you decide you feel like telling me more...get in touch.”

Then he disappears back into the mass of moving bodies just as quickly as he came. You flex the fingers on your metal hand, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

Both men at your table sit back down, although they’re still a bit disgruntled. Valor picks up the card to inspect it. “You gonna call that weirdo?”

“Please. You know me better than that by now.” You pluck the card from his hand and rip it up without a second thought. However, it takes a little longer to forget about the heated imprint of Baekhyun’s fingers on your shoulder, or his whispering voice fluttering against your eardrum.

Getting the arm was merely an act of survival, the way you saw it.

Money was low and jobs were scarce—ones that weren’t dangerous, straight-up unappealing, or low pay. There had been a scientific research trial for a new cybernetics program, and it paid much better than many other opportunities around—enough to live on for at least a year, give or take, especially with the cheaper cost of living in your area. You’d been terrified about giving up a part of your body, thinking your body might reject the foreign technology and kill you for the offense, but your desperation outweighed the fear.

Thankfully, it worked.

That was nearly two years ago, though, and the trial was long over. Even with you spending as frugally as you possibly could, the money was close to running out.

Odd jobs here and there help you out some, but they are few and far between and don’t pay nearly enough to make a living on.

You’re getting increasingly anxious about the lack of options and dwindling money, though you also spend half of your time getting drunk, hitting up the club, and simply trying not to acknowledge your crumbling life. If worst comes to worst, you can always think about finding another research trial and exchanging another body part. Maybe. These cybernetics programs often crop up more in Osaka, which would require you to leave the city, but maybe you could get another gig and scrape up enough money for travel...

For now, however, you are back at the club’s familiar bar and making small talk with the bartender, who’s an android without a real name or identity. Everyone just knows it as T-4000, though it appears to be fine with its little niche in the world. Sometimes it teases you about your arm and wonders when you will make a complete transformation into a “metalhead” like itself. Though you cringe, the company is better than nothing when the others aren’t around, so you allow the jokes.

Alone at the bar, you’re too preoccupied with staring into your drink to register the body sliding onto the bar stool next to yours until you hear The Voice flowing out again.

“One Blue Lagoon, please.”

Oh, fuck. You put your head in one hand and angle your body away from his in hopes that he doesn’t notice it’s you. But just as your fortune turns out, he happens to be facing your metal arm.

“Oh, it’s you again.” Baekhyun sounds pleased to see you, like this is some great unexpected coincidence, though you know that’s not likely true. You lift your drink to your mouth and pretend you don’t hear him, though that doesn’t deter him. “I never did hear back from you. How sad.”

“I have no desire to talk to you or anyone like you,” you say, still with your head turned.

“Anyone like me?” He chuckles.

“You don’t belong here, in case you didn't notice.”

“By whose definition?”

“Everyone’s,” you retort. T-4000 comes back with Baekhyun’s drink, and it gives you a look of bright amusement and curiosity with its digital-screen face as it rolls away to help another customer.

“I don’t concern myself with ‘everyone’s’ opinions,” Baekhyun replies, drinking from his glass. “Just the ones who matter.”

“Right, like your rich friends,” you scoff. “Why the hell are you even here?” You turn to him then, though looking at him feels like a mistake—like staring into a solar eclipse. He’s still wearing his chains, like always, and his eyes are smoked out with dark shades of eyeliner. The makeup makes him look eternally tired, but in some high-fashion model way.

“Because I don’t like being around my so-called ‘rich friends’ any more than you would.” Baekhyun smirks.

“So sorry.” You roll your eyes. “Maybe you should become a hermit, then.”

“You seem to be doing a good job of that right now. Where’s your friends from last time?” He looks around as if they’ll materialize.

“None of your business.”

Baekhyun leans on the bar counter, placing his arms on top of it, and his cologne hits you again. You try to hold your breath against the scent, though you can almost taste it in the back of your mouth. Shaking your head, you peer directly into his eyes now, which are as exceedingly curious as the last time. They’re still inky dark under this lighting, reminding you of black holes that absorb all light and life.

“Is it bad for me to want to know more about your arm?”

“Like I just said, it’s frankly none of your business.” You cast a forlorn glance at your drink, which has gotten dangerously low.

“Fair enough.” He sips again. “Now. What if I want to know about you?”

The back of your neck flares with heat, though you can’t fathom why. “You must be truly bored if that’s what you came here for. Unfortunately, you aren’t as interesting as you seem to think you are.”

“You injure me.” But you both know he’s not hurt at all by anything you can think of to say to him. “But this isn’t about me—it’s about you.”

“What about me? How you want to steal my arm and use it for scrap metal, maybe? Or to build yourself a body mod, even? You really stand out in here being the only one who’s not partway made of tin or some shit, and it makes people distrust you. You can figure that out, right?”

“You make a lot of assumptions.” Baekhyun swirls his drink around in his glass, the blue liquid swishing around the sides. “Let me make some, then. You seem like a mysterious, closed-off, and perpetually discontented person. And despite what you might think, it’s not my first time seeing you around. I guess I can’t interest you in entertaining my presence just for company’s sake?”

You pause, wondering where Baekhyun could have possibly spotted you. You don’t hang out in any of the places someone of his standing would usually be seen in. But then again, does he even frequent those areas of Upper Tokyo? He’s always spending his time mingling in Lower Tokyo’s notable haunts instead. “...Are you some kind of peeping tom or something equally pathetic?”

T-4000 perks up at that, even from its distance on the other side of the bar, and it scoots a little closer as if it’ll need to call the Droid Commission in another minute. Which, in actuality, is a terrible idea��calling on one of the city’s many vigilantes would have a more effective outcome, if need be, but sending them for Baekhyun of all people might land you all in prison.

“Tokyo is big,” Baekhyun deadpans, like it’s something even a baby would know. “You can see anyone anywhere.” Then his voice melts back into its normal suave tone. “I’ve noticed you in passing, once or twice. Your arm is something special, but it’s hard to forget a person like you.”

Despite yourself, you don’t totally hate the comment. That alone makes you want to leave the club and not look back for at least the next month or so, knowing he’s probably said this to dozens of other people before. You stay in your seat, though, trying to see what easy line this man is going to throw out next.

“I wonder why I’ve never noticed you, then.”

“You seem to be too consumed with your own problems half the time, even though I don’t know what those are. The stress is written all over your face, though.”

Can never miss a chance to be insufferable, it seems.

“Okay Mr. Psychoanalyst.” You knock back the tiny bit of drink left in your glass and push it away from you. You shake your head at the android when it gestures for a refill.

“Not a psychoanalyst, you’re just achingly easy to decipher.” His tone is casual, like this isn’t meant to be an insult, though you take offense anyway.

“You’re not very good at whatever this is,” you say.

“What do you think this is? Flirting? Maybe you wouldn’t be wrong there.” He laughs.

“Yeah, well. Get some more practice and then maybe you can convince some other poor sap to get to know you better and sign over the rights to their cybernetics, but I won’t be falling for it.”

“I guess that means I’ll just have to try harder, then.” And then he finishes his drink, too. “Not the stealing your arm bit, but the getting to know you part.” He pauses for another moment, and then says, “It’s easy to become enamored with this place.” He waves his hand around at the club’s surroundings. “Expect to see me around more often. I think I’ve already taken a liking to you.”

Baekhyun tips his empty glass to you and gets up from his stool. His cologne swirls around you as he leaves, not overpowering, but enough to make its mark on your olfactory memories. You don’t look back to see where he walks off to, too busy trying to ignore the small headache building behind your eyes and your elevated heart rate.

He’s already taken a liking to you. Why would a ridiculous comment like that even get to you?

God. You really need to get laid.

So, you do just that.

Not with Baekhyun, but with someone from the club whose name you don’t even remember before it’s even over. It was painfully uneventful sex, and it did nothing to banish the man from your mind, which makes you feel even more irritated.

Walking back to your tiny apartment afterwards feels like a certified Walk of Shame even though it’s late at night and no one really cares to notice you. You spit on the sidewalk as if that could properly convey your disgust. You think of Osaka again—and what the fuck are you going to do to even get the money to get there?—and of the business card that you’d ripped up without remorse.

You shake your head, sending that thought back to the depths of your mind. Nevermind. That doesn’t matter. What could he possibly have for you, and why would you want it? Tucking your hands tighter in your pockets, you keep your head down and remain inconspicuous until you get back to the not-so-welcome sight of your own place.

You, Valor, and a few others sit around a makeshift bonfire at Tokyo’s Rainbow Bridge—or what remains of it, anyway, with weeds and tall grass sprouting up in the space that was once its parking lot. For the past hour, this impromptu hangout been nothing but smoking cigarettes and drinking cheap alcohol and shooting the breeze. The nights are always much colder than the days, the chill biting into your skin and seeping into your clothes, but you try to ignore it and huddle closer to the fire. Maybe there is something, anything else you could be doing other than this, but you are just a bit too weak—and a little too lonely—to say no to the companionship. Even if it means listening to the uninteresting conversations of men who you barely know outside of the club or without a bottle of whiskey in their hands.

Your hangout session remains sleepy and boring for a while until someone makes a suggestion. One of them keeps going on about some steady, reliable work he’s supposedly found from a trusted friend, though he refuses to elaborate on what kind of work it is when asked. You make a sound of disgust and tune him out. Useless suggestions are as bad as none at all.

“Maybe we oughta rob that Baekhyun dude.”

You look up from the flames, fixing your eyes on the one who said it—a man called Lockjaw—and someone else chuckles in disbelief.

“You serious?” Valor asks.

Lockjaw sits forward in his ratty lawn chair, and with the way the light hits his face, it’s easier to see how his bottom jaw and teeth are completely metal. It makes you wince internally every time you see him, though you always feel kinda bad afterwards. That must’ve hurt exponentially worse than your own procedure. “Why the fuck not? He struts around Lower Tokyo like he has it all...and the bastard does. We sit and grovel for scraps, yet there’s a walking goldmine right in front of us.”

The idea of taking Baekhyun’s riches had never quite appealed to you or fully manifested in your mind. You didn’t want anything belonging to him, mostly because of your own disdain towards the man. However, the suggestion appears in sharp relief now, so obvious that it’s hard to believe no one else proposed it until now. You don’t immediately respond to this concept being thrown around, but something uneasy settles in your chest.

Valor sits back with a mildly disinterested look. “And you think someone like him doesn’t have major security hanging around waiting to incinerate someone with a ray gun if they tried it?”

“Do you ever see anyone hanging around him?”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not there. Somewhere.”

“Then we’ll be strapped up,” Lockjaw says, throwing his hands in the air. “And any of his little ‘security team’ who tries it will be blown into the stratosphere. That’s how we take care of that.” You shake your head only slightly, a movement not noticeable enough to be picked up by the others. You rub your tongue against the inside of your cheek, picturing all the ways this plan could go belly-up. To your irritation, Valor decides to drag you into the fold despite your efforts to stay out of the conversation.

“What do ya think, Y/N? Baekhyun’s been on your tail lately, maybe you could help lure him in.” That stirs up several murmurs and targeted stares in your direction.

“Yeah?” Lockjaw leans forward even more, his ass nearly slipping off the edge of the chair. “Think you can get in good with him?”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “Uh...it’s not like I’m buddy-buddy with him—”

“You don’t need to be, just tell him to bring his ass here and we’ll do the rest.”

Your mouth tightens. With all eyes trained on you, some expressions less friendly than others, it feels impossible to refuse. “I guess.”

“It’ll provide the money you’ve been worrying over for the past year.” Valor offers, and you shoot him a side-eye. Not like you needed him to broadcast your business to the world.

“That’s how life around here works,” another man chimes in, putting his cigarette out on the dirt and getting off his makeshift stoop of an upturned bucket. He stretches his arms and legs, and though you can’t see them under his long pants, you can hear the soft whirring and clicking of his metal legs. “Eat or be eaten. I’ve made my choice.”

Lockjaw gives a wolfish smile. Your apprehension rises, though you say nothing. “Eat, we will.”

You try to act nonchalant the next time you see Baekhyun at the club. You only notice him as you’re leaving, having already waited most of the night to see if he’d show up this time. You slow to a stop as you spot him in the alleyway behind the club, speaking to another club-goer—you’ve seen the person around before. You can only imagine what they were talking about before you’d interrupted their little scene, and the person scurries off, perhaps somewhat reluctantly, once it’s clear they’ve lost Baekhyun’s attention. Maybe that was the poor sap he’d finally found who’d be misguided enough to give up their cybernetics.

Baekhyun approaches you with a smile, his chains catching in the light of the flashy neon sign above. The kohl is dark and smoky around his eyes, in perfect sameness with every other time you’ve seen him.

“Hello, one who’s name I still don’t know—”

“You should come see me,” you interrupt. You want this to be as quick as possible, not wanting to dwell on any fake niceties.

Baekhyun lifts an eyebrow. “See you? At...your place, or—”

“At the ruins of Rainbow Bridge. Thursday night, around 9. Unless you’re too busy doing rich people stuff.”

“Rainbow Bridge…” He draws the words slowly across his tongue. Probably thinking of what a ruin the bridge is now—and has been for the past few decades—and wondering why you’re asking him to meet there of all places.

“I have a friend who lives around there—no fucking place to stay, you know, just holes up wherever he can. But he can...let you see the inner workings of my arm. Pick him up, take him back to your place; I’m sure you have a lab.” And because you know what he’s really looking for, you throw in, “He’s studied the technology, knows it inside-out. He could help you build...whatever it is you want.”

Baekhyun’s eyes, which you normally perceive as two lightless voids, sparkle at that last part. You can practically see the light increase in them. “Oh really?”

You roll your own eyes. “Yes, really. I’m not going to let you walk off with my damn arm, but you can...take notes on the mechanisms and shit. It’s up to you. I just got tired of you fuckin’ asking, so don’t think this is going to turn into some weekly meetup or whatever.”

He nods, slowly at first, and then more assuredly. “Alright, then. I’ll come.”

“So...yeah.” A sudden wave of anxiety crashes over you now that the trap has been laid. You feel as if you make one wrong move now, it’ll blow everything. He’ll find out and hate you for it. But why should you care about him hating you? “Then...see ya Thursday. Bye.” You decide to make your exit, walking briskly past him in the alley.

“Leaving so soon?” Baekhyun asks, turning back to watch your figure retreat. You wave one hand behind you in a dismissive gesture.

“I’ve been here all fuckin’ night, Byun. I’m going home now—to get some sleep, if I’m lucky.”

He chuckles, the sound fading behind you as you walk away. “Sweet dreams.”

Your steps falter just slightly when those words leave his lips, and several emotions begin warring in your chest. You ignore them all and continue on your walk back to your place, though you almost wish you could turn back to the club and ask for another drink or three. Something to get your mind off that ridiculously simple phrase that’ll be spinning around in your mind all night.

The night of the plan, you begin having major second thoughts.

It’s not as if you didn’t already feel shitty about it, but your mind keeps racing with how ridiculous of an idea this really is. It’s far too late to talk anyone out of it, as they’ve already stocked up on contraband weapons and laid their gameplan, but you feel less and less “okay” about being a part of it.

Most of all, you feel increasingly guilty about using Baekhyun’s trust in you for this; he never seemed to assume you had any other motives behind your invitation. Even if it’s ridiculously, oddly naive of him to trust you—someone he knows nothing about—you don’t feel great about exploiting that for your own gains.

It takes him less time to show up than you’d hoped. He’s right there at the agreed time, annoyingly punctual, his sleek black luxury car pulling up in the dirt and patchy grass. It looks like it was cut out of a magazine and placed there—almost comically out of place. Just like him.

Baekhyun gets out of the car and walks out onto the grass to meet you, uncaring of the mud and dirt he’s stepping in. He smirks, his hands in his pockets and his chains dangling. “Would now be a good time to get your name, or are we in too deep at this point?”

There’s no one else but him. Definitely too trusting.

You nervously chew your lip as you mull that question over. If everything goes like the others intend it to, there won’t be a point in telling him your name. But if he’s still alive by the end of the night, you could be exposing yourself. Still...a name won’t matter either way if he can give a perfect description of you to the Droid Commission.

Suddenly, you decide not to give it any more thought. “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N, Y/N...” He says your name like he’s tasting a charming new food. “I like it. It suits you.”

Baekhyun’s smile is too sincere, and it doesn’t make you feel any better. “Come on.” You turn your back to him as you lead him through the tall grass and toward a broken section of the bridge’s main road. It leans against the main structure of the bridge and sticks halfway out of the muddy ditch that was once Tokyo Bay, its jagged edge reaching toward the night sky.

It’s darker under here, with the broken bridge blocking out the moon and stars and lights from buildings nearby. Your stomach rolls.

“So, who is this friend of yours?”

You turn to Baekhyun then, and you don’t know if he can read the anxiety on your face. Maybe he can. He’d proudly bragged about his own abilities for figuring people out.

It happens all at once, somehow slow and fast at the same time.

One of the men—the one with two metal legs—slinks out from behind the broken bridge and sneaks up behind Baekhyun, a stun spear in his hands. Its two large metal prongs are lit up with electricity. Those metal prongs are aimed directly at Baekhyun’s back, ready to make contact, but that never happens.

“Look out!” you scream, and shove Baekhyun out of the way. He stumbles off to the side, falling against the concrete bridge, and you wildly grasp the long spear with both hands, blocking the man from reaching Baekhyun.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Metal Legs shouts. He drives the spear’s metal bar forward, knocking it into your upper chest and collarbone with a force that makes your teeth chatter, and the pain and shock take your breath away for a few moments.

You’re not a fighter. You usually try to stay out of any ridiculous brawls when they do happen, whether at your apartment building or the club, but you do your best to hold the dude off. So even though you stumble back, you keep your hold as tight around the spear as you can and shove it back, putting your weight behind the movement and cracking it against the man’s chin. He howls with pain and anger and his hands momentarily loosen on the weapon. You take that opportunity to snatch it completely from him.

Nearby, Baekhyun is busy fending off Lockjaw with a long knife, both of them fully engaged in a fierce clash of blades. You feel a burst of surprise. He was armed this entire time? Had he realized something was suspicious after all? Most of all, how does he know how to fight?

You don’t have much more time to think about that, though. Metal Legs is recovering from the hit, his hand reaching for his side like he’s about to pull out his own knife or gun. You leap forward and shove the prongs of the stun spear into his ribs. He quickly collapses to the dirt, motionless after a handful of frightening convulsions. You feel cold fear at the idea that you might’ve just killed him, but you can’t dwell on that when you see the others bursting out of the tall grass a few yards away from you and Baekhyun. The backup, in case something went wrong—which it most definitely has.

Lockjaw has Baekhyun up against the concrete of the bridge, his knife near Baekhyun’s neck and Baekhyun trying to block the blade. The sharp metal inches increasingly closer to its target. With your legs shaking, you run up behind Lockjaw and dig the electrified prongs into his side, sending more volts through his body than you can imagine.

Lockjaw’s weapon drops, and Baekhyun stumbles away. The man takes a little longer to be knocked unconscious than Metal Legs, but you are relieved when he’s out a few seconds later.

You look at Baekhyun, who appears dazed and winded; you belatedly realize he might’ve received some of the shock too, with both men’s arms locked together when you initially used the spear. “Get out of here! The rest are coming—go!” A shot from a ray gun zips through the air between you two and burns the concrete of the bridge.

Baekhyun looks at you wordlessly. Then he grabs your wrist as tight as a vise. You glance at him questioningly, and your confusion mounts when he drags you along with him as he takes off towards his car. The red smearing across your hand and wrist tells you he must be bleeding from somewhere, and shock blooms in your chest for a wild moment.

The car door opens without him even touching the handle or speaking a command, and he jostles you into the backseat, trying to avoid the spear’s prongs; you’re still holding it tight, as you expected you’d need it to face the others—however futile that would’ve been. You’re so frazzled once you get in the car that it takes you a moment to realize Baekhyun is in the backseat with you. “What are you doing?!”

“Get on the highway,” Baekhyun speaks, ignoring your frantic question, and the engine roars in your ears as the car peels out of the grassy lot. The vehicle narrowly escapes another round of angry shots fired by the others, and the grass sizzles where the shots land.

A self-driving car. Of course he’d have one of those. You stare at the steering wheel as it turns on its own, maneuvering you both away from the scene of the crime and back onto the paved roads.

“Your arm…” You look at the sleeve of Baekhyun’s jacket. It’s torn now, and you can see the skin of his forearm underneath, which displays a long cut. Lucky for him, it’s not deep enough to need stitches. He has similar, smaller ones on his hands.

Baekhyun examines the wound and makes a sound of disgust. “It’ll be fine,” he says decisively. “The bastard wasn’t as good with a knife as he wishes he was.”

You nod silently, though the movement feels mechanical. As the reality of the situation seeps in, a whirlpool of dread forms in your stomach.

“Fuck, I-I’m fucked.”

Baekhyun gives a humorless laugh. “You’re fucked?”

“I’ll...need to lay low for a while.” Then you glance at him. “Unless you’re driving me to the Commission. Then, well…at least they can’t get to me while I’m in prison.” Your laugh is equally humorless.

“You’re going into hiding?” Baekhyun asks, and the corner of his mouth lifts. You don’t expect this reaction. Not after him almost being jacked and led into the situation by none other than you.

His smirk exasperates you. You almost want to roll your eyes at him not realizing why you’d need to hide. Or maybe he’s just playing coy about it; but you give him a break for now. “I ruined the plan and helped you out, so yeah, my own place is not gonna be safe anymore. ‘Friends’ are fleeting out here. Especially if you fuck with someone else’s money.” Valor crosses your mind, the only one you could really call a friend out of all the others—and only because you knew more secrets of his than they did. Your chest tightens with a strange guilt. You should’ve just said no from the beginning.

The car is quiet for a few long moments. Then Baekhyun shatters the silence with, “Come home with me, then. You can stay there for a little while.”

You bark out a laugh. “You can’t be for real.”

He sits back against the leather seat. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t. It’s a waste of time otherwise.”

“After I just—could’ve gotten you killed?”

“I said it before—you’re like an open book. Your emotions are practically written on your face. It’s pretty damn obvious to me you were never truly up for this plan. Unfortunately, you aren’t the badass you think you are, but at least your efforts saved me.”

“But I still—”

“You certainly don’t have to take the offer if you don’t want it.”

You become quiet at that. Even if you don’t think you deserve this level of mercy, you don’t want to shun this offer of safety and be left to contend with the streets alone. Your voice is tense and quiet when you respond. “I’ll take it.”

Baekhyun’s home is a penthouse in the heart of Upper Tokyo, which doesn’t surprise you. The contrast in his neighborhood’s appearance with what you’re used to seeing in Lower Tokyo is stark and painful—spotlessly clean streets with sweepers continually traveling up and down them, bright holographic billboards, people walking around with personal androids accompanying them. You begin to feel resentful again, and you wish you could swallow those feelings after he’s been gracious enough to rescue you, but you can’t help it.

You two must make quite a sight once you pull into the apartment building’s parking garage—you holding a stun spear, wearing a slightly shabby outfit of a T-shirt, jeans, and jacket, and Baekhyun walking out with disheveled, torn clothes and bloody hands. Someone gets out of the parking garage elevator once the doors open, and they give a startled look when they see you two.

“Good to see you, Jongin,” Baekhyun greets the other man. His tone is friendly, but his expression dares the other man to ask any questions—which you both know he won’t.

“Good evening, Baekhyun.” The man gives a slight nod in your direction as he walks past you two, though there’s no hiding the distaste he thinks he’s disguising. His eyes linger on your metal hand, and you feel exposed; you try to convince yourself he’s just looking at the spear, which would also make sense.

You try to shake the feeling off as you and Baekhyun step into the elevator cabin, but confusion rushes over you to replace it. The floor of the elevator is more like a scale, sensing the weight of your bodies and sinking slightly further into the floor once you step onto it.

“What’s that all about?” you ask.

“Oh, yeah. That. This isn’t like your typical elevator, it’s a teleportation channel,” Baekhyun says this nonchalantly as he reaches for the touchscreen panel on the wall.

“Um, what? I don’t want to be teleported anywhere.” You jump right back out of the cabin before the doors can close, and Baekhyun gives you a weary look as he holds them open with one crimson hand.

“It’s safe, you don’t have to worry about anything. All it does is take the atoms in your body and replicate them elsewhere; the floor measures your mass. I’ve done it hundreds of times.”

“You don’t say.” Sarcasm drips from your voice. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m not interested in turning into ground meat on the other side of that thing.”

“There are no stairs in this building, just teleportation channels. If you want to climb the side of the building to get to my place, be my guest.” Baekhyun starts pressing on the panel as if he’ll leave you behind, and panic spikes in your chest. You decide to get back on with him, much to your displeasure.

You close your eyes tight just as the inside of the cabin starts glowing with light, and you can only hope your last lived experience won’t be riding a teleporter with Baekhyun in the same night you tried to mug him.

Surprisingly, the transportation doesn't feel like anything. One minute you’re there on the parking garage ground floor, and the next minute you hear the whoosh of the doors opening again. It’s like you never moved an inch, but you obviously have when the doors reveal the lavish interior of Baekhyun’s home.

Grateful to be at your destination, you step out of the teleporter as quickly as possible. “How did we end up right inside your place?”

“Clever, right? It uses fingerprint recognition so no one else can get access but me, but you’d know that if you hadn’t slammed your eyes shut.”

For all your talk of Baekhyun being out of place in Lower Tokyo, you suddenly feel like the fish out of water inside his penthouse. There’s metal and glass and holographic materials everywhere, which is the same stuff you’d find in Lower Tokyo, but here it’s all much more sleek, shiny, and well-maintained. His living room alone looks bigger than your entire apartment.

“Come on, don’t just stand there.” He gestures for you to follow him further down the hall, and you hesitantly do.

“Um...I don’t really want to carry this all night,” you say, referring to the stun spear still in your hands.

Baekhyun turns back to you, blocking the path to the rest of the hallway. “Do you even know how to turn it off?” It’s still charged with energy. You look at it up and down, but it isn’t immediately obvious to you. You don’t want to admit that, though, and keep awkwardly looking for some sort of Off switch until Baekhyun can’t stand the silence anymore. “Look, just give it to me.”

Your mouth twists at that. It seems nonsensical considering he’s just given you a safe haven, but you’re wary he’ll try to turn the weapon on you. Maybe he was waiting to get you alone and dispose of you himself. He appears to understand your thought process, because he scoffs loudly and holds his hand out for the spear.

“If I really wanted you dead, I could’ve done it in the car—or better yet, let your friends take care of you. Just hand it over.”

“Mm, I think not. I don’t think you’d want to get blood on your pretty leather seats.” Still, you give him the spear, if a bit reluctantly. You don’t know what he does with it, but he takes it into another room and tells you to wait in the hall. When he returns, it’s gone.

Baekhyun leads you to a clean and unoccupied guest room. It’s large, with floor-to-ceiling windows that give an expansive view of the city below. It’s also nicely decorated, much like one of Upper Tokyo’s many upscale hotels, but it seems like it hasn’t seen a warm body in months. There’s a certain lack of warmth to it. “Don’t get many visitors?”

“Now is not the best time to make jokes about me filling my perpetual loneliness with frequent trips to your club, if that’s what you’re attempting to lead up to.” He steps through another door, which you find out leads to the bathroom. “Everything you need should already be here—except clothes. I’ll get those in a moment.”

“Right,” you mumble, your eyes carefully tracing over everything in the bathroom. You know your skeptical behavior is probably pissing him off at this point, but distrust has long become an inherent feature of yours. You’ll keep this act up if you know it’ll get under his skin.

The hot water in this shower doesn’t run out after five minutes like the one back home. You can’t shake the old habit, though, and you wash yourself as quickly as you can, body tensed with adrenaline as you expectantly wait for the warm flow to stop after the five minutes are up. When that doesn’t happen, your muscles relax a little. Though it feels good, you don’t know if you’ll get used to this any time soon.

The clothes he lays out for you on the bed are plain and black, but still better quality than what you’re used to seeing and wearing. Soft on your skin. Smell good. You wonder where he’s went off to—maybe to wash up and patch up his wounds, if he has any sense. You also wonder if you should try exploring his place, but you feel like that’ll be risky; he has too much advanced technology around here that would probably find a way to kick you out of the penthouse window at the first sign of nefarious activity.

...Which is how you end up merely sitting on the bed and waiting to see what will happen next. But not before checking the entire room for any signs of surveillance tech or something else foreboding. This is also when you make the joyous discovery that your phone is missing, and you reason it must’ve fallen out of your pocket in the earlier clash; you know you had it when you first met up with Baekhyun. That pisses you off, but there’s nothing you can do about it now. Though you feel disconcertingly cut off from the outside world without it, who would you even contact anymore? One of the others, who’d probably try to track you down and enact a cold, hard revenge for you blowing up the plan? Lockjaw’s face flashes into your mind, along with the other scalding looks you received the night of the planning, and you shudder slightly.

When Baekhyun comes back to your room—and you’re almost surprised that he does—he looks significantly smaller in presence without his all-black clothes, glittering face chains, and heavy makeup.

Indeed, the man standing in front of you with damp hair, baggy pajamas, and bandaged hands doesn’t seem like the same suave person from the club at all.

“So now what?” you say, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugs. “Well, if you’re going to be living here, you need a tour.”

Living with Baekhyun isn’t quite what you expected it to be. He’s home more often than you’d think, for one. You would’ve thought he’d always be in business meetings or off somewhere finding more luxury goods to buy or just doing whatever. You can’t really get mad at him for being in his own home, but you try to keep space between the two of you. With your own designated spaces, it’s not hard to do this, which you are at least marginally glad about.

Trying to deal with Baekhyun while completely sober isn’t your idea of a walk in the park. Despite yourself, you wish you could go back to the club even once; Baekhyun certainly won’t let you drink up all his liquor, nor will he tell you where he’s hidden it. For your own good, he claims. Sure.

To your surprise and slight relief, he doesn’t ply you for any more details about your arm, though you’ve definitely caught him running his eyes across it more than once—studying it like words on a page. Whatever’s spinning around in that mind of his, you can only guess. His lingering interest only makes you think he’s scheming for a way to take the arm off you when you’re sleeping or equally vulnerable, though, so you remain guarded around him.

“One day, you’ll have to understand that I’m not the evil villain you think I am,” he tells you. He regards your attempts to avoid him with a certain bored amusement, like how one might think of a particularly entertaining pet cat.

You let the steam of the food you’re cooking billow up across your face, making your eyes water from the slightly-too-warm heat before answering. Leave it to him to bother you during one of the times when you can get some undisturbed, Baekhyun-free peace. “Maybe you should stop dressing up as one whenever you go out, then.”

He chuckles. “It’s like you’ve made it your personal mission to throw verbal stabs at me whenever possible.”

You shrug. “I have to do something to pass the time here.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “You could do that just by having a normal conversation with me.”

You cross your arms, looking at him from where he stands at the kitchen island. He’s in his dressed-down form now, sans eyeliner and jewelry.

His kitchen is not like any other you’ve encountered, fully equipped with the capabilities to make every single one of his meals by itself—and order more ingredients whenever necessary. It’s undoubtedly convenient. But you often still like to make food of your own, just so you don’t have to feel so...dependent on him for every little thing. “About what?”

“About who you are. What you like. What you dream about—I don’t know, something.”

“What I dream about.” You make a noise of disbelief. “How can you waste time on dreams when you live the life I do? I just focus on trying to survive. That’s it.”

Baekhyun opens his mouth automatically like he’ll say something, but he pauses as if he’s just absorbed the full weight of your words. Suddenly, there’s a certain sadness pooling in his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth, and you hate it—intensely. You don’t want his pity or sympathy. And yet, he’s already given it to you by letting you live in his home.

“Before you say something pathetic, just don’t,” you blurt out, wanting to stop him before he can start. “You want to talk? My favorite color is green, and my favorite food—alcohol. I have an arm made of fucking titanium, the club was my main hangout spot, and I hate entitled people. Talk about that.”

Baekhyun’s sympathy evaporates into an unimpressed expression, lost just as quickly as a whisper on the wind. “Closing the door again, I see. Alright. Have it your way.” He leaves the room then, giving his back to you and shutting you out similar to how you just did to him.

This should be what you wanted. But it only makes you feel oddly unsatisfied.

“Here.” Baekhyun slides something across the table towards you after dinner one day—another dinner where you sit on opposite ends of the table and where you try to ignore his existence. You instantly recognize the small, glistening package as a cellphone, though it’s a model much more advanced than you could’ve afforded.

You look up at him as he stands in front of you, one of his hands shoved into the pocket of his black pants. “...What are you doing?”

“Giving you something to communicate with so you don’t feel like some princess stuck in a glass castle.” You roll your eyes at that. “I’m not sure who you’d talk to since all your friends do hate you, but the thought counts. And everyone needs a phone.”

You sit forward to look at the phone in its packaging, tracing your metal fingers against the surface. The sensation circling around in your stomach is an odd one. “Please don’t tell me that you hosting me in your penthouse was just an easy way to get a sugar baby.”

Baekhyun looks slightly flustered at that accusation, and you’re gleefully, childishly pleased about taking him off guard. His surprise is quickly replaced with a shit-eating grin, though. “It’s nothing like that; I could’ve already had that kind of arrangement 100 times over.” His tone suggests that he has, which sends a chill crawling up your spine. But maybe not 100 times over. “I did it to help you out. But if thinking of it that way gets you off, be my guest.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Byun,” you say, taking the phone out gingerly. It’s a lightweight thing, looking like it might dissolve if you look at it too hard. Its screen is clear raised glass—which you assume will project out the hologram technology this phone is inevitably equipped with—and has silver backing. It’s a piece of work. Though it appears fragile, you know it’s sturdier than that—or it wouldn’t be such a popular model as it is now. “It’s...nice, though.”

Baekhyun waves his hand noncommittally. “I wouldn’t settle for anything less—even if it’s for someone as eternally pissed-off as you.” You bite your lip against the rebuttal that wants to come rolling out, instead preoccupying yourself with figuring out the controls on this thing. Which takes an embarrassingly long moment. Baekhyun watches you for the duration of it, biting his own lip against the urge to laugh at the frustrated furrow between your brows and the crinkling of your nose. Really, the phone looks like a thin sheet of metal with a slice of glass over it; how are you supposed to operate this? Eventually, he says, “There’s a button on the bottom that activates it...you have to press that.”

“Right, clearly.” You try to rid yourself of your embarrassment as you turn the thing on, but even as Baekhyun leaves the room you can hear his chains clinking together as he laughs silently at your confusion.

As if your life could not get any more chaotic, your metal arm begins malfunctioning.

The metal is not as flexible as it was just a few days before, and it gives you a hard time whenever you try to do simple maneuvers. Your arm is overtaken by a sensation that feels like nerve damage with how the entire limb and shoulder tingle and burn from wires that no longer want to do as they’re told. You’re not entirely sure what’s wrong with it—a good oiling could usually fix any stiffness when necessary, but this nervy feeling is new.

For a while, you try to hide it from Baekhyun, which feels kind of ridiculous even to you. You’re only hurting yourself more, but you are a little too prideful to give him the pleasure of inspecting your arm like he’d always wanted to from the start. You don’t want to be his science experiment.

However, it comes to a point when you must ask for help when your arm stops working entirely.

You wake up to this terrible realization. After another morning of having gotten only a little sleep the night before, something immediately feels wrong. Your arm is dead weight beside you. When you try to sit up, it doesn’t respond to your movements. You can only feel the painful tug on the flesh part of your shoulder where the weight of the metal pulls at it, and you groan in pain and annoyance.

You support your arm with your other hand to prevent the tugging, which quickly gets exhausting and annoying as you try to go through the morning motions. You can’t keep this up while washing, so by the time you get out of the shower, your shoulder is killing you from where the arm dangles.

When you get to the common room, Baekhyun isn’t there. He isn’t anywhere else in his penthouse, either. You don’t even know how long he’s been gone. When you bring yourself to finally call his number, you bitterly remember that you still don’t have it saved in your phone. You want to scream in irritation. You can’t leave to go look for him—yeah, right—or get help from anyone else, either, because of the fingerprint recognition on his apartment entrance. Now that you think about it, you are like a princess in a glass castle here. That reawakens another bout of anger in you. Safe haven or cage?

Baekhyun appears an hour or two later—you’re not totally certain, having refused to expend the strength to move from your current spot to check the time—wearing his usual getup. You don’t know if you should be relieved, but an emotion similar to that sweeps through you despite your lingering apprehension and dislike.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. His eyebrows crease when he sees you splayed across his couch, your metal arm propped up on the couch back.

Don’t be combative, you think to yourself. But it’s like an impulse; you can’t stop yourself. “Why do you immediately assume something’s wrong?”

“You’ve never been so casual,” he gestures to your posture, “around me or in my place before, so I’m trying to figure out if your brain has been infected by cyber bugs or something. Because if we need to quarantine, then—”

“Well, you’re not totally wrong for once.” You struggle to sit up, your movements stiff, and your arm slides off the couch back and slumps limply to your side. Baekhyun's eyebrows shoot towards his hairline at that, and he looks at you questioningly, stepping closer to you.

“What happened to your arm?”

“Don’t even fucking know…it’s been feeling weird for a week.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

You look up at him, cynicism coloring your expression. “I’m sure you can take a wild guess.”

He gives the familiar sigh-and-eye-roll combo, like he’s done probably a hundred times since he’s met you. “Yeah, I can.” He waves his hand. “No matter. I’m calling Yosuke.”

“Who’s Yosuke?” You turn to watch Baekhyun retreat—probably to his bedroom or office. He turns back to you momentarily.

“Someone who can fix your arm.”

—

Yosuke turns out to be a man around the same age as Baekhyun—a big contrast to the older, wizened cyberneticist you’d pictured in your mind. He and Baekhyun act overly familiar with each other, apparently being long-time friends since their younger years.

There is no difference in how he treats you and Baekhyun, which is another thing you didn’t quite expect. He is clearly wealthy like Baekhyun, coming in with a nice suit and expensive jewelry and a suitcase full of more tools than you’ve even seen before, but he doesn’t have the haughty rich man aura. That makes you feel a little more comfortable, and you are glad that Baekhyun let you have some privacy with this and left the lab for the actual procedure. Even if it meant he didn’t get his wish of poring over your arm’s wiring like some kind of cybernetics kinkster.

To your relief, the fix is simple enough. The implanted electrodes in your shoulder that help send signals between your brain’s neurons and the artificial nerves have failed, but those are relatively simple to replace.

“Shitty tech, I guess,” you mumble, casting a displeased look at your arm. You aren’t sure why, but you feel embarrassed about it failing on you. Maybe you just thought it’d be reliable forever. “I got it as part of an experimental research program, so it was probably never going to be the most dependable thing anyway…”

“Hm.” Yosuke smiles. “Maybe not, but it’s still an extraordinary piece of work—especially in this early form. Some of these mechanisms are new even to me. Was that the 2110 Tokyo trial, by chance?”

You nod, though you feel a tiny bit less relaxed with knowing that even Yosuke doesn’t recognize all the intricacies of your limb. Hopefully you’ll still walk out in one piece. “Yeah, the very one.”

“Excellent work,” he reiterates. “It was an early research trial, but still yielded some of the most functional and human-like large-scale cybernetics of the last few years. You could’ve done a lot worse. Maybe you already know that, though.”

“Maybe,” you repeat quietly, but you are mostly speaking to yourself now.

—

After the electrode replacement is done in Baekhyun’s home lab, you can finally feel your arm like normal again. Yosuke does a few sensory feedback and dexterity tests to make sure your arm can function as it should, and he promises to come back the next day for another round just to be sure.

You almost don’t want Yosuke to go when he finally does pack up to leave. It feels nice to be around someone who doesn’t inspire some wretched, nonsensical anger in you.

Baekhyun slips back into the lab after Yosuke leaves, and you glance up from your arm at his arrival. He looks at your bandaged shoulder and watches appreciatively as you flex your metal fingers. “All good now?”

“It’s fine,” you mumble. “Thanks.” Saying that word to him is not easy, but you relent, figuring you should at least give him that much. “You should be thanking the gods you don’t have to go through this kinda shit.”

“Really.” It’s not a question, the way he says it. It’s filled with sarcasm. Baekhyun reaches down and rolls up his left pant leg, his chains hanging as he does, and you recoil, confused. Why the fuck is he showing you his bare leg?

“It’s cybernetic,” he says, barely concealed pride in his voice. “You can’t even tell, the work is so good.” Something like jealousy and anger stirs in your chest. Even if you had wanted to tuck those emotions back in, they’ve escaped from the cage now and are intent on running rampant.

“So. Byun Baekhyun is part-metalhead, after all?” You slide off the surgical chair you were sitting in for Yosuke’s procedure, coming to stand a couple feet in front of Baekhyun. You look down at his leg—which, for all intents and purposes, looks like a completely flesh-and-blood limb. “You joker. Quit fuckin’ around.”

“It’s not a lie.” He knows you won’t believe him, so he taps a spot behind his ankle twice. A long, thin panel that stretches from just above his ankle to his upper thigh opens on his leg, exposing the wiring and metal within. You can’t school your expression in time, and your mouth drops. “Incredible, right? Custom-made. So, yes…I do have an idea what it’s like.”

“Custom-made, huh.” You bite your lip so hard you think it might bleed. “Unbelievable. You’re the kind of person who does these things because you want to, because you can, not because your survival hinges on it. You must truly think you’re special.” The words come hurtling past your lips like venom.

“I didn’t choose this on a whim,” Baekhyun argues, straightening up to face you and letting his pant leg back down. The look on his face says his patience has finally run out, presumably tired of you throwing insult after insult at him since you’ve been in his home. “You don’t know anything about me other than what you’ve seen and heard on screens and from others. I’ve tried to get familiar with you. You reject it at every turn.”

“I don’t want to ‘get familiar’ with someone who gets custom cybernetics that cost hundreds of thousands just because they fuckin’ felt like it, while the rest of us have to do it just to get enough money to live for maybe a year on.” You’re gritting your teeth so hard that your jaw feels like it might crack.

Baekhyun steps closer to you, diminishing the space between you further. His eyes burn with animosity. “I was in a car accident, Y/N. I was just a teenager. No one even knows this but the people closest to me, and I don’t want anyone else to know it. I lost my leg and nearly my life with it. Before you start preaching to me about choices versus survival, realize that you aren’t the only fucking person in the world who’s ever had to do what was needed to survive.”

Your breath catches. You feel like the wind has been knocked out of you. Suddenly, all the fight drains from your system, and you are left feeling deflated and cold. His blazing eyes feel like two bullets trained on you, and your gaze falters.

Baekhyun doesn’t wait to see if you’ll have another response lined up for him; he turns heel and stalks out of the room.

As promised, Yosuke returns the next day for your additional tests. Your conversation with him isn’t as enjoyable as it could be. You are still reeling from Baekhyun’s revelation and unsure how to approach him. Neither of you spoke to each other for the rest of that night, instead choosing to actively avoid each other. You know you can’t keep this game up forever, though.

“Baekhyun’s in a sour mood today,” Yosuke remarks. “Rare for him. Any idea why?”

You shake your head, worrying your lower lip with your teeth. “Mmm...no.”

The slight smile on Yosuke’s face tells you he doesn’t believe you. “Well...I’m sure you two will figure it out sooner or later. He seems to have an affinity for you.”

“What?”

“He was pretty concerned when he contacted me about your arm. He’s mentioned you before then, too. He seems fascinated by you.”

You purse your lips together. You remember his days of annoying flirting in the club, which feel so far away now, and how he’d come to you with a bunch of flowery words and told you he’d taken a liking to you. Perhaps he was really telling the truth about that. You wonder if he possibly mentioned the attempted mugging to Yosuke, and you cough nervously.

“Well, he’s…” you wave your flesh hand, “...a character.”

Yosuke chuckles. “You two seem kind of fitting, I don’t know why. Similar love for recklessness, maybe—from how he describes you, anyway. Like peas in a pod.”

Fitting? Peas in a damn pod? The next words come thoughtlessly rushing out of you in an effort to change his mind and slap away whatever outlandish idea he has of you and the other man. “I don’t want Baekhyun.”

Yosuke raises an eyebrow, though he keeps his gaze on your arm as he watches the movements of your metallic fingers for any irregularities. “I never said you did, Y/N.”

In your haste, it occurs to you that maybe Yosuke really was just referring to your similarities—which you’ll continue to vehemently deny—rather than suggesting any deeper connection. Though that’s what it sounded like to you. Fuck. You don’t know anymore.

Is this what they’d call a Freudian slip, then? How wonderful. You rub your temples with your free hand and shake your head. “Then let’s just forget the last few minutes of this conversation.”

Yosuke smiles. “Whatever you’d like to do.”

—

Yosuke leaves soon after he’s finished testing your arm, but he reassures you that you can see each other again if you feel like having the company—just have Baekhyun arrange things.

Speaking of Baekhyun. You should probably say something to him. You’re not enthusiastic about puttering around his home feeling even more awkward than you did when you first arrived there. So, you walk to his office and knock on the door, turning your ear to it to see if he’ll give a response. You don’t have to wait to hear one, though, because the door panel slides back on its own.

You’ve never been in his office before, though you knew where it was—it was one of the places he decided not to show you on his little house tour—but it’s just as obnoxiously streamlined and full of tech as every other part of his home. Baekhyun sits behind his desk, elbows propped on its surface and fingers crossed together.

“Y/N.” His voice holds none of the playfulness, casualness, or even cool sarcasm you’ve heard from him before.

You step a few feet forward into his office. You feel like you’re standing underneath a spotlight, lit up for the entirety of the world to see. In reality, it’s just you and him here—Byun Baekhyun, one of the richest men in Japan.

He stays silent, presumably waiting for you to speak first. That is what you came here for, so you do, even if it makes you feel like you’re going to peel out of your skin.

“I was a dick. I’m sorry.”

Baekhyun blinks. “An apology? From you? The world must be ending.”

“I’m trying to be serious here, Byun.” You sigh. “I was...wrong to assume what I did about you. I guess...I don’t really know anything about you...but. I felt like I had you all figured out already. So, I’m sorry.”

The tension in Baekhyun’s shoulders releases, if only a little. His expression shifts into something not quite as impenetrable as it was just a few moments ago, but not completely open, either. “Apology accepted, then.”

“Thanks.” You shove your hands into your pockets. “Well, I thought...if I’m not to make any more assumptions about you, I should probably get to know more about you?”

Baekhyun looks interested now, and he releases his hands from their formerly tense position. He leans forward slightly. “Then I should do the same with you.”

Your hackles raise, despite you trying to keep yourself more open-minded. “I...don’t want to. You know enough already.”

Exasperated, Baekhyun spreads his hands out in front of him. “Here we go again. What are you so afraid of? And why even ask me about myself if you don’t want to share anything about you?”

“You can think of it as gathering intel—not making friends. I’m not asking you about your life story so we can have picnics together and talk about our wildest dreams.”

Baekhyun scoffs in disbelief. “When are you ever going to be honest with yourself? Emotional constipation isn’t a good look for you.”

“Honest with myself about what?”

“You are attracted to me. You are interested in me beyond supposedly gathering intel. And for some reason I can’t conceive, it enrages you.” The words come off his lips with the trace of a smirk, and though they make your skin prickle with heat, his smirk makes you want to jump across the desk and land one good punch on him.

You snort. “You’re a piece of work. Attracted to you? Everyone doesn’t throw themselves at the first person with a whiff of money or notoriety.”

Baekhyun gets up from his desk to step closer to you, much like he did the other day. He’s close enough for you to count the moles on his face, barely noticeable except for when he’s at this proximity. His cologne wraps its scented arms around you and pulls you in. You didn’t notice it as acutely yesterday, too embroiled in the argument and trying to process what he revealed to you, but now it hits you full on. How is this not considered some kind of olfactory warfare?

“Then tell me you don’t want me.” He whispers it to you in that same stupid, silky voice he’d always used in the club. That voice, combined with his scent, transports you straight back to that environment—the pungent taste of alcohol, the blinding neon lights, the ear-splitting music. And the one man who you just can’t figure out.

You open your mouth only slightly, afraid to breathe in more of his fragrance and lose yourself to it like a fool. “Fuck you.”

“That’s not an answer.” Baekhyun’s voice remains in the same low whisper, and he grins like he already knows the truth. “But I can do that, if you’d like.”

It doesn’t take much effort for him to close the rest of the space between you. When he kisses you, you don’t slap him, stomp on his foot, or knee him in the balls like you might’ve thought you would. Instead, you kiss him back—gradually, tentatively, but your lips fall into a rhythm with each other’s.

His lip piercing is unyielding on your skin; the edges of it press into your lip. The kiss is not rough or even frantic. You think this all might’ve been easier if it was—easier to allow yourself to keep hating him so intensely and channel that energy into your actions. However, all your previous thoughts of knocking his head off or pulling his lip ring off fall away; you just allow yourself to exist solely in this moment and absorb the feeling of his lips on yours.

Maybe now you could allow yourself to admit—internally, at least—that yes...you did want this. You wanted it from the first ridiculous time you met him in the club, and when he put his insolent hand on your shoulder. Whispered into your ear like he knew exactly what effect it was going to have.

Baekhyun’s bedroom—the one other place he hadn’t shown you besides his office—is neatly arranged and smells entirely like him. Other than those base things, you don’t care what the rest of the room is like. When you both somehow make it there, Baekhyun backs you up onto the bed, his lips still attached to yours.

The weight of his body is solid on yours. His tongue nudging against your lips and asking for entrance makes your body flush with heat. Before you can get fully invested, you pull away. He looks at you questioningly.

“Take this off,” you mutter, pushing his face chains away from you. He laughs lowly, pulling away from you to take his piercing out and put the chains away.

Pulling your clothes off comes naturally; it doesn’t feel clumsy and stilted like it did the last time you slept with someone. Baekhyun’s hands flit over every inch of newly exposed skin he can access.

The way Baekhyun touches your metal arm is reverent, worshipful, and you hadn’t realized how much you needed this—this kind of unabashed admiration—until it happened. No one has ever touched your metal arm in a way that wasn’t clinical or otherwise similarly detached. His fingers glide across it like it’s still made of skin and blood and bone, and he kisses the length of it, up to your neck and all the way back down to your metallic fingers again.

Water beads at the corners of your eyes. You try to ignore it. You don’t even acknowledge the few tears that do slip out, sliding towards your ears from your supine position.

Baekhyun lifts himself to be level with your face again. You turn away from him, too afraid to see whatever emotion will be lying in his eyes—not wanting to reveal the full magnitude of your vulnerability to him—but you don’t say a word when he presses his lips against the tear tracks on your skin.

Funnily, ironically, every motion comes instinctively. Him rocking against you, his heavy, dark breaths echoing in your ears, his long and low moans—your lips searching for his, your teeth creating blooming bruises on his skin. Though you have pushed him away and dismissed his proffered company at every opportunity, this intimacy feels like a grand coming-together—something that was bound to happen at the end of every road.

—

The sheets are twisted, the sweat is cooling on your skin, and you are both tired but satisfied. Content in a way that neither of you have truly been in a long time. You rest your head on Baekhyun’s chest, closing your eyes and listening to him breathe underneath you, the metal of your arm still warm from the heat of his skin.

“I could give you an upgrade.”

Your mouth twitches. You think you might have imagined the words, so you stay silent for a while longer until Baekhyun nudges your arm, checking if you’ve already fallen asleep.

“Upgrade?”

“Your arm. I could...have a new arm built. One like my leg.”

You sit up to look at him, the sheets falling from your body. “Don’t say pretty things you think I want to hear just because you’re still in the post-orgasm haze.”

Baekhyun blows air out of his nose, too tired to properly argue or even scoff at you. “Like I said before, I don’t waste time saying things I don’t mean.” His voice quiets. “We both know you can’t get your limb back, but...I could...give you something to help, at least. It’s...easier to deal with the cybernetics when they actually look like they belong on your body.” You know he speaks from experience there, by the way his gaze falters and drops to his lap.

“To feel more like a human again, huh.” Some part of you—multiple parts of you, maybe—had still been grieving over the arm you’d given up almost two years ago. Maybe it was a silly thing to be hurt over compared to the many other problems in your world, but it was difficult to stop feeling like you’d sold away a portion of yourself for nothing. Nothing but fleeting money.

Baekhyun’s offer stirs something in you. You turn your body away from him, feeling the tingle in your nose and eyes again that could only signal one thing. “Stop doing this. Being so...I don’t know, forgiving. Not after all I’ve done and said to you.”

Baekhyun sits up then, resting his hands on your arms. “I want to do this for you. Stop acting like you don’t deserve anything good in the world.”

You turn back to face him after a long moment, though the tears still linger in your eyes. “I don’t want to be the only one who benefits.” You shake your head slowly. “If you really agree to give me a new arm...you have more than enough resources to help change the nightmare Lower Tokyo has become. Help them. Help us. I don’t want to be some one-off experiment or pet project you discard once you’ve gotten your fill—some broken bitch from Lower Tokyo you think you can fix and turn into one of your family’s many success stories.”

Baekhyun is breathless from your admission; this is the most transparent you’ve been with him since you’ve met. Though part of him wants to shrivel back from your words, he clings to your long-awaited honesty, even if it is only shared with him to rebuke him and his family’s selfishly opulent ways. He thinks of why you pushed so hard against him trying to make a personal domain of Lower Tokyo, leaving the comforts of his own place to absorb the shadows of yours, and a better understanding of your rejection begins to dawn in his mind. Tentatively, he brings one of his hands from your arm to your cheek, thinking you might still wince away from him, but you don’t move.

“You’re right.” His voice is tight with the knowledge of it. “I can help, Y/N. You, and everyone else. I mean—I will. If there is one thing you can trust me on…let it be this.”

You stare into his dark brown eyes, trying to hunt for any signs of dishonesty, though you find none. There is only the heat of his hand on your face, and his open, yielding expression. “I will hold you to that, Byun Baekhyun.”

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santigarcia · 4 years ago

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Kissing Kitten 😽

Human Touch Part Nine

word count: 1.6k

rating: M for smut, dirty talk, mentions of daddy kink, phone sex, sexual situations (pls don’t read unless ur 18+!)

summary: Nathan leaves for a business trip and you stay at home, but he finds ways to take care of you even when he’s gone.

a/n: thank you all so much for reading this series! let me know what yall think! thank you to @punkpascal and @sergeantkane as always!! and to @aellynera for yelling at me to post on time!! there’s only one more part after this! if you’ve read all these i really appreciate you!!

For the first time since the wedding, Nathan has left the compound. He has a business meeting with the board of Bluebook. He’s preparing to launch his latest tech. The smart home device he’s been working on, Etta. You’d have gone with him, but you wanted to let him work. He wanted your company, but he also knew he’d be working, and you’d spend a lot of time alone.

He texts you though, especially during the board meetings. Begging you for a nude selfie.

“Kitten, I already saw that one,” he’d text back. He wants you to take a new one. You play along, but that’s when you get an idea.

You send him a text: Sugar daddy wanted.

He’s quick to write back: Sugar daddy acquired.

You can’t help but giggle when you see his response. You’re curled up in bed, wearing one of his shirts. Because of the time difference, it’s bedtime for you but the afternoon for him.

Text: I’m so bored daddy.

Reply: You need someone to take care of you Kitten?

Text: Please?

Reply: There’s a box in the closet baby, go get it.

You push back the blankets as you step out of the bed with piqued curiosity. You open the closet to see a box the size of a shoebox. Your name is written on the top in Nathan’s all caps handwriting. With the box in hand, you go back over to the bed to see a new text from Nathan telling you not to open it until he gets back to his hotel room.

You want to open it now, but you know he’ll know somehow if you did. So, you slide under the blankets again and drift off. You might as well nap before he’s done with his meeting.

Your phone rings a few hours later, and it’s a facetime call. Happily, you answer to see your husband’s face.

“Hey kitten,” he smiles. He’s leaning back against the headboard of his bed. His shirt is off, and he looks damp from a fresh shower.

“Hi baby,” you smile and turn on a bedside lamp.

“Did I wake you?” he frowns slightly.

“Yes, but it’s ok, I miss you!”

“I miss you kitten,” he rubs his hand over his head. “This shit is so boring.”

You laugh. “How’s it going though?”

“Fine.” He pauses and looks down over the rim of his glasses. “Did you open the box?”

“No,” you smile, holding it up. “You told me not to!”

“Good girl. Open it,” he nods.

Inside the small box are a few objects. The first thing you notice right away is a dildo. You hold it up and he quirks a proud brow.

“You’re gonna use that in a minute kitten,” he tells you, and you can’t see where his hand goes, but he’s starting to lazily stroke his cock.

“Is this the one we made?” you laugh at the memory.

“Oh yeah it is,” he smirks, and lets out a soft whine. He’s thinking about it too.

He’d called you down to his lab one afternoon, he’d been in there all day and you’d not heard from him. So, when he called you it was a surprise, you thought he was going to use you as a guinea pig for his smart home device he’s testing named Etta. He’s getting close to finishing her, and you agreed to help him with the trials. But this wasn’t it.

You walked in the lab, pushed on the glass door, it was cool under your fingertips. Inside the room however, it was quite warm. Warmer than normal. Nathan stood in the middle of the room, hand on his hard cock, pumping himself slowly.

“Nathan?” you laughed and flushed despite coming in here and seeing weirder things. And you’ve done crazier things with him before.

“Good you’re here,” he said.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a mold of my dick. Here,” he tapped the table, indicating for you to hop up on it. “Strip. Let’s go let’s go,” he taps the table quicker.

“Ok ok!” you scoffed a little, but you figured he had a reason. “Why do I need to be naked for you to make a mold of your-“

“I need to stay hard while the mold is on me kitten.” He reached for a tube filled with a solution. Once you were naked, he positioned himself inside the tube. He let out a soft gasp at the change of temperature and focused in on you. “Ok, go.” He nodded his head at you.

“Pardon?” you started to step off the counter when he winced again.

“Touch yourself baby, please.”

You wanted to gloat, but you didn’t want to ruin his project. But then, you thought maybe some gloating might turn him on a little.

You were shy the first and second time he asked you to touch yourself in front of him, but by now you’d gotten quite good at putting on a show for your husband. He moaned watching your fingers move.

“How long do you have to stay hard for?”

“Five minutes. But it’s not so easy when this thing is fuckin’ cold.”

You kept going. And you were seconds away from coming when Nathan’s timer went off. He gently pulled himself out of it and reached for you.

“Oh no, you are not touching me until that stuff is off you.”

He promptly ignored you and shoved your hand away. He knelt on the ground and buried his face in between your legs. His moans and beard added to your pleasure, and you came when you heard him groan deeply. He came untouched, his cum dripped onto the floor and down his length.

You’d not seen the dildo until now that it’s in your hands.

“Fuck, I wish I was there to push it into you,” Nathan sighs. “But since you can’t have the real me-“

You smile and set the dildo on the bed next to you. You continue going through the box. Inside there’s a bottle of lube, some new lingerie, and a small scrap of paper. It has information about picking up something tomorrow.

“Make sure you’re awake, you can’t miss this delivery,” he tells you over the phone. “Now, please baby. Can I see you?”

You pull off your shirt, and he groans.

“Fuck look at you. Do they miss me?”

You purse your lips together, wanting to roll your eyes at his joke, but yes- yes you miss him touching your tits. So, so badly.

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” you grin.

“So that’s a yes then. Ok, baby, touch ‘em. Please, fuck.”

His hand slides up and down his cock in full view of you while you touch your chest for him. You do everything he asks, but you start to tell him what to do as well.

Soon you’ve got the dildo ready and he moans louder than you when you slide it in. It’s strange to feel it, because you know it’s not him, but you can tell it was made from him. It fills you just the same.

“How’s it feel baby?”

“Thick,” you moan, clenching around it. “But I miss your warmth,” you tell him honestly. And you do, you miss his heat, not just physically, but the passion. It’s there now, only virtual.

“Remember when we used to have phone sex when you still lived at home? And start moving that that kitten.”

You moan doing as he asks and tell him yes you remember.

“I tried to hide my posters of you from you,” you laugh then moan again.

“Posters? Plural? Oh fuck!”

“Are you about to come from that?” you can’t help but giggle.

“Fuck, you were so cute when you were all shy and crushing on me.”

That pulled a moan from you.

“You like that kitten? Remember when you were so shy? Fuck, you let me take your virginity baby.”

You want to watch him, but you throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Look at me kitten,” he demands, and you open your eyes. “Come. Now,” his voice drops, and you can’t help but relax and let your body release. He watches you in delight squeeze around the gift he made you. It sends him over, and it’s your turn to delight in the pleasure look on his face, and his cum on his tight stomach.

“I miss you,” you gasp, catching your breath.

“Fuck, me too baby. But that was sexy as fuck,” he grins, and you nod in agreement. “Now, go back to sleep baby. Don’t forget about that delivery tomorrow.”

You set an alarm as soon as you get off the phone with him. When you’ve cleaned up and curled back in bed, you smile wondering what on earth he could have sent you.

The next morning you wake and get dressed to see about the delivery. You make the small walk to the field where the helicopter comes with your weekly deliveries of food and whatever else the two of you need.

The pilot hands you a box, and it says not to open until you get back to the compound.

But you can hear what’s inside before you do.

You gasp softly and walk quickly back to the compound and open the box as soon as you step inside, and the door is closed behind you.

Inside is a little black kitten. He has on a little blue collar, and the name tag says “Prometheus.” He’s a little jumpy from being flown in, but before you know it, he’s happy and exploring around his new home.

You pick him up and cuddle him and give him a kiss on his little head. With him in your arms, you look in side the box again. There’s a towel and another note.

All it says is “a kitten for my kitten.”

tagging: @pascal-isaac, @wasicskosgirl, @velvetmel0n, @huliabitch, @shadow-assassin-blix, @writefightandflightclub, @aellynera, @softboywriting, @veuliee2, @spider-starry, @mylifeliterally, @millllenniawrites, @ntlmundy, @foxilayde, @writingletterstothefire, @mandoplease, @anetteaneta, @feelmyroarrrr, @artsymaddie, @shakespeareanwannabe, @poedameronsbeard, @deanfanatic67, @magicsuperheroes, @phoenixhalliwell, @that-one-weird-one, @mariesackler, @yourbucky084, @woakiees

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman imagine #nathan bateman x you #my writing #human touch series #part nine #idk if anyone is still reading this series LOL #or if anyone remembers me-#IVE BEEN BUSY DOING A SECRET PROJECT #BUT THANK YOU IF YOU HAVE READ THIS #I MISS YALL

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citrusella-flugpucker · 4 years ago

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All 68 of my SU fics, apparently

((Because @novantinuum did it and then I wanted to do it and then they said “do it” and I took it as a dare

Compiling these gave me a sense of accomplishment. And pain. In my wrist.

Multi-line summaries nearly always squashed to lessen the vertical length of this post, even if most of it is below a readmore))

Multi-chapter fics, regardless of collection status (chronological order--oldest to newest):

And He Doesn’t Wake: My first SU fic, complete; “It can't end like this. Or: Waxing realistic as we examine the events of the episode "Bubbled".” Steven suffers halfway-realistic effects from being exposed to the vacuum of space. Probably not super canon compliant given what we learned in Growing Pains but a fic that branches off at Bubbled and rejoins canon around Mindful Education (and written around that timespan).

Diamond in the Rough: Incomplete; “Connie is in the hospital with a serious disorder, and her biggest chance is an experimental treatment combining minerals with blood transfusions. Little does anyone know...” Originally crack of “Connie gets powers from PD-infused blood” but then ASPR happened and I have to figure out where it goes now (and I want to! but...).

The Results Are In: Incomplete; “Sadie gets a piece of mail from her dad. For most people that'd be pretty mundane, but it's a little more complicated considering who exactly her dad is.” Barb/Blue Diamond crack (it makes sense in context) and affectionately called “Space Maury” internally for reasons that will make sense later. Has a similar but less “it flips the ENTIRE plot” issue with ASPR. I have many idea chunks but almost no connection between them

He’s Gone: Complete (and technically a oneshot with two “bonus chapters”); “Steven asks Peridot to get the shirt Connie got for him for his birthday from his closet. He says he wants to look nice. She's confused by his request. Greg and the Maheswarans are less confused and more terrified. He keeps saying it'll be okay. They'll be okay, even though he'll be going away. It'll just be a couple of days now. Or: Steven and Pink Steven are unable to fuse after being separated on Homeworld. That's not good for Steven.” Steven dies. That’s it. That’s the whole fic. Might potentially get an extra chapter or two still. Or not. Eh.

Thanks, Padparadscha: Incomplete/open-ended oneshot collection; “Stories about the best gem.” Padparadscha oneshots.

Your No-Good, Dirty-Rotten, Gem-Shattering, Rebellion-Leading Mother: Incomplete, little desire to finish; “What if Steven had gone to Camp Green Lake instead of Stanley? Or: If Steven Universe And Holes Were The Same Universe: A Fanfiction (thanks @captainjzh) Or, as the top of my Google Doc I started back exactly a year ago (*2019-01-07) says: SU x Holes: Because the fact that Steven Universe and Stanley Yelnats are both 14 is messing with me”. Wrote this as an exercise after reading the appalling original shopped screenplay for the Holes movie which was basically a nuclear fallout enthusiasts dream world but also quite possibly the worst and most uncomfortable thing ever written and I have had to have whole pages bleached from my memory

It’s Okay to Need Help: Incomplete (three chapters total planned), the last part of the pre-SUF-finale “Steven Corruption Theory” collection; “"Everybody needs support sometimes, and you need support right now, with this. And that's okay." She takes a deep breath. "It's okay to need help, Steven." Or: (Based in corrupted Steven theory as well as taking inspiration/using characteristics from a fic by @love-killed-the-superstar) Sometime after coming back from corruption, Steven sees a therapist to try to hammer out some lingering issues.” Steven has specific lingering issues from corruption due to the way they had to mitigate it, and that affects how he communicates with his therapist some days. Just been blocked on the best way to write it

Waiting is Worse: Incomplete; “Is there anything more awful than the feeling of powerlessness?” The movie mostly ends the same, except Steven doesn’t un-rejuvenate.

Realism: Incomplete, strong desire to complete; “As much as he may want it to be, this is not a dream. He's not possessing anyone. It's not happening to someone else. It's real.” Steven has the same effects happen to him as the Watermelon Steven from Escapism--an arm and a leg are amputated.

The President Kisses Babies, and Other White House Briefs: Incomplete, open-ended oneshot collection with very little overarching plot; “Oneshot escapades of President Connie Maheswaran and her First Man, Crystal Gem and public speaker, Steven Universe.” Inspired by a Tumblr post and with more ideas in the pipeline! Love this fic even if I lost most inspiration for four years!!

Collection (series) oneshots (chronological order):

Citrusella Tries (And Succeeds!) to Write a Fic Each Day of the Bomb: A collection where I tried to write a fic each day of the HotCG (wedding) bomb. I succeeded but also kind of not? XD

Could You Imagine?: “Imagination is wish fulfillment. What are some of the things Pearl has imagined?” Now We’re Only Falling Apart

Partake In New Extraordinary And Pleasing Pizza Lover Experiences (Or: Kiki's Lament): “Kiki rarely hates her job. But she does hate pineapples.” What’s Your Problem? (Also the title spells PINEAPPLE o.o)

Acquired Taste: “Steven has a snack as he helps prepare for an important ceremony.” The Question

My Whole Life: “Some people are just born to go into certain careers.” Made of Honor

We Can Think About Hope: Incomplete multi-chapter with no hope of completion (why it’s not listed in the multi-chapters, BTW... also the “kind of not” regarding success); “What's going on? What do we do now? Can you still hear me? (Or: The end of Reunited plays out differently.) (Or or: And He Doesn't Wake: Part II: This time with weirder angst! And more not waking!)”

Citrusella's "Steven Corruption Theory" Collection: A collection of fics written on the corruption theory premise before it became canon. It’s Okay to Need Help not duplicated here but would be at the end.

Change: “Steven's come back from probably the most serious thing that's happened to him--save almost dying after his gem was ripped out--but that doesn't mean he came back unchanged. (Based on the "corrupted Steven theory".)”

My Skin: “Steven does a mental inventory of what's changed about him since his uncorruption and finds himself starting to fall into a hole of self-criticism, until a song playing downstairs sets him straight. (Based on the "corrupted Steven theory".)”

Eternity in a Moment: “It had only taken a few hours, and yet, an eternity.”

I Can't Say with Confidence: “Over an hour. He's been sitting in the tub, fully clothed, the bathroom a mess… for over an hour.It should be working! Why isn’t it working?!” Based on this art!

It’s Okay to Need Help

Happy Steven's Day!: Just after Steven discovers his mother is Pink Diamond, Mother's Day rolls around...Greg just doesn't want Steven to be in a slump about it anymore.

You Deserve All the Joy: “Because nothing is better than being surrounded by family and love. Or: Steven's once-a-year struggle with a holiday he doesn't exactly have the ability to traditionally celebrate.” It’s Mother’s Day and Steven is sad. Post-ASPR

Universe Day: “"Being your dad is the only present I really need." Or: Greg and Steven talk and realize their experiences with Mother's Day have been two sides of the same coin.” Post-SUF

Citrusella's Comfortember 2020 Fics: Fics written based on prompts for November 2020 Comfortember... not finished with it

Speed Bump: “Steven's first night on the open road isn't as smooth as he wanted it to be. Attempt to combine prompts 2-6 of Comfortember (prompt 1 just couldn't be squeezed in): "first day/night", "nightmare", anxiety", "cuddling", "afraid to sleep"”

In the After: “Steven wonders if it was corruption. Comfortember days 7-10, though only in the most tenuous, technical sense (and by that I mean all four phrases are mentioned): "blanket fort", "lashing out", "confession", "crying"”

Late Night Hot Chocolate (described in next section)

Zombie Club Chronicles: Steven endures a violent accident on Frightnight (Halloween) that changes his life forever.

Beach City Zombie Club

Prompt: [Randomly roll from list: Steven] doesn’t enjoy the Halloween season, but [Fill in: Steven] take(s) them on a well-meaning trip to an old Gem Ruin where they come to realize [Pick from list: They’ve made a terrible mistake in coming here]

On Frightnight when he is 17, Steven experiences the most serious event of his young life. Almost exactly a year later, Steven takes Steven to Lars' ship in hopes of being able to hop off at a truly secluded gem ruin to talk about something that Steven and Steven have been disagreeing on for several months. Lars has an idea, and Steven comes to a realization.

For the Cluster Spooky Writing Challenge!

Late Night Hot Chocolate (also a Comfortember fic)

"Steven? What are you doing?" He stares into the pot.

The gem half's voice comes monotone. "Making hot chocolate."

"It's three o'clock in the morning. Why on earth are you making… hot chocolate?"

The slyness on his face is one pixel away from nonexistent and yet it's practically a traffic cone to his other half, as he remarks flatly, "Because I've lost control of my life."

Or: Steven and Steven both have nightmares that threaten to take them back to... that night... One copes by making the other hot chocolate and pretending he really isn't having any problems.

Comfortember days 16-18: Protective, Flashbacks, Hot Cocoa

Standalone oneshots (reverse chronological order--newest to oldest):

Rumble Strips:

Prompt: [Randomly roll from list: Greg] notices [Fill in: Steven] is in a somber mood lately. Out of the goodness of their heart they try to cheer up the sad soul in the only way they know how: [Fill in: WHO WANTS TO GO ON A ROAD TRIP?!]

"I really thought I could handle myself on my own." He scoffed. "Even my own therapist didn't think I could do it."

"I bet she thought you could handle yourself just fine. She probably just thought you'd do better with your support system close, bud. Like, literally, I mean." His eye weaved through the thin line of gravel past the edge of the shoulder. "You started saying some pretty concerning things."

Or: Greg and Steven stop on the side of the interstate on their way to Empire City for New Year's, to have a conversation.

For the Cluster Christmas Writing Challenge!

Auto-Injector: “In an alternate timeline, Steven meets Bluebird at her welcome party but he cannot, under any circumstances, try her hors-d'oeuvres. Or: Steven ends up with allergies because why not” (I have three more ideas for chapters)

Don't Put Beans Up Your Nose: “"I know you want answers, and I wish I had some for you, really, Steven, but from what you've described… those aren't things to play around with. It's unethical to knowingly subject you to those for the sake of 'experimenting', even if you consent." Or: Steven asks Dr. Maheswaran a question she's not ethically able to answer.”

The Exor-schist:

Prompt: A series of events have led to a terrifying effect on one or more of the series’ characters. [Randomly roll from list: Mr. and Dr. Maheswaran] are now suffering from [Randomly roll from list: Spiritual Possession]. How did this happen?

"This corrupted gem, it has a powerful connection to organic matter. Ones this powerful have been known to overtake and even kill humans."

For the Cluster Spooky Writing Challenge!

It's My Party and I'll Dry If I Want To: “You would dry too, if it happened to you! Or: Steven says he wants a pool party for his eighteenth birthday in Delmarva, after over a year of traveling the country. ...But why isn't he swimming?”

Ace Up Your Sleeve: “Or in your back pocket, same diff. Or: Steven's sad about potentially not getting to go to Pride.” (oneshot and an epilogue)

Milestone: “"Okay, so like, the books aren't, like, useless, but they assume you have like the perfect baby. Maybe consider the following: kids are dorks, man." Or: Steven went to the doctor. Once. Or: Greg thinks Steven, at 15 months, is being weird and missing milestones and is worried he's a bad dad so he goes to Vidalia for help.” May eventually be part of a babby Steeb over the years collection

Full Enclosure: “What am I going to tell you? You're better off not knowing the trouble I'm in. / I don't want you to worry about what I've just seen, about where I've just been. / You don't have to be a part of this, I don't think I want you to be! / You don't need this, you don't need me... Or: Steven defines himself by his connection to others. So when they all leave, then… he's no one. (In short: Steven is crushed by his need to be needed.)”

Vice: “He could stop whenever he wanted to. He just didn't want to. Or: Steven falls into a bad habit and tries to rationalize it as okay as long as he's not completely abandoning the idea of improving his life.”

Stairwell Solitude: “Over ten years, Greg wrote just six letters to his parents. What could they have contained?” Post-Mr. Universe

Striations: “At Connie's behest, Dr. Maheswaran makes a house call to Steven's place after his un-monstering. It's different than his last appointment, but its core is the same.”

Everything Stays: “Ever so slightly, daily and nightly, in little ways, when everything stays... Steven's therapist brings up something she's noticed about him outside his PTSD.”

I Do It For Me: “"Forgiveness is the intentional and voluntary process by which a victim undergoes a change in feelings and attitude regarding an offense, and overcomes negative emotions such as resentment and vengeance." Steven asks his therapist a question. The answer may surprise him.”

A Break in the Case: “Dr. Maheswaran takes a look at Steven's results but quickly finds herself in over her head.” Mid-Growing Pains

I have a couple entries in the @connieswap omake collection (Comic Relief and Same Old Steven)--I’m not linking them

Changing Tastes: “ Steven and Connie share a conversation after watching Crying Breakfast Friends: Under the Butterknife.”

Rejuvenated Regrets: “Someone calls Steven's name from downstairs. He's not listening closely enough to know who it is. He's not sure he cares right this moment. He wants Mom—Rose—Pink—and that's the one person he knows it's not.”

Gut Feeling: “Every time, he has to push his brain off that train of thought--what if she does it again?--but for someone with super-strength, he's surprisingly not very good at pushing.”

Lapis Watches Titanic (1997) ...There’s no summary

The Cluster Halloween Exquisite Corpse 2019 (I only wrote part of this!!): “Lars tells a horror story but loses track of it, or; a bunch of fic writers do an exquisite corpse and hilarity ensues. Written by DocCairo, citrusella, E350, love-killed-the-superstar and br42.”

Drift Away: “There are timelines where Steven fell into the biopoison when the Earth cracked under his feet. Here we see three times Steven (technically) lived despite a dive into pure poison, and one time he didn't.”

The Rose Wilts: “Once upon a time, he knew Rose. But he knew he didn't know everything.Sometimes it feels like he's learned more about her after she died than he ever knew while she was alive.“ Doug and Rose used to be friends

Tying the Knot: “Steven never wears shoes with laces, because he can't tie them. When Connie finds out, he's pretty chill about it.”

Haploid: “You're not sure if this is what being shattered feels like. You don't know if you want to be sure.” Mid-CYM

Thestral: “"How many have you seen?" "All of them." She answered without hesitation. "Oh." Or: Pearl and Steven talk about a type of gem that corruption has given some... special characteristics.”

500 Words a Secret Santa Gift: The Gratuitous Reference: “200 words a day, every day, until Under the Knife comes back. Or Crying Breakfast Friends. We're not picky at this point. Secret Santa edition! (A Secret Santa gift for @e350tb that deliberately and gratuitously references their 100 Words a Day series.)”

Sesimorp, Sesimorp: “A Lapis Lazuli makes a beautiful work of art.”

Ship Talk: “Lars and Steven share a moment on the Sun Incinerator.”

No Way Around It: “An order is an order.”

Give It A Try!: “Steven gets a Diamond to try something new.”

Better Off: “Peedee ponders what could have been.”

Steven x A Nice Calm Life Please and Thank You™: A Case for the Realization of a Bold New Ship: “Steven deserves a happy life free of interplanetary struggle and strife. It's my OTP. So I'm going to give him that! :D”

I Don't Know: “Will this ever make sense? Will this ever feel normal?” Post-ASPR

Force of Nature: “Her diamond gave her orders no longer.”

My Gemmortal (by XXXbloodstoneshardz666XXX): “the escupaids fo steven hardlight amnesia lion universe and his freinds n crushs” (this is exactly what it sounds like)

The Picture of Steven Pink: “It took a lot out of him.” (SU but Steven takes on the injuries he heals)

Self: “In the Connie Swap AU, Steven considers his identity and place in his family, community, culture, and himself. For a kid who at least tries to be all sunshine and rainbows, this isn't exactly the most fun thing to do, but sometimes it's necessary.” (these are different than the things in the CS omake collection)

I Really AM My Mom...: “"When you're singing, you want to use enough air that you could blow a throatful of peanut butter clear across the room." The crackiest of escape-from-Homeworld plots, based on a ClickHole article and a joke headcanon.”

Left: “Of course there's shame in bailing.”

Old shames (chronological order): Stories I just kinda cringe at now

Shrinking Rose: “Steven never felt bad about his stature. Until he did.” (I just don’t love it)

A Rose for Emily: “What if Rose wanted to spend the rest of her life with someone before Greg? ...It's safe to say she has a skeleton in her closet.” (less old shame than the others on this list but was hard to shoehorn in the A Rose for Emily style writing)

Alone: “Steven won't open up about how everything that happened is affecting him. Not even to himself.” (I know I’ve written other dark stuff but this one just hits different)

You Should've Asked Me, I'm Really Good at Naming Bands (November 2019 Unfinished WIPs): “(title subject to change) I did a challenge that I had to write my WIPs in November (revised to November and December) or be forced to post them unfinished. I got some updates done, but several not done. These are those stories. Dun-dun.” (only “shame” because they were things that were never finished--I also had a Connie Swap omake I was supposed to finish or the punishment was not to post it unfinished but to write Steven and Spinel (NOTP) but I just never did that)

#steven universe #steven universe future #steven universe fanfic #steven universe fanfiction #su fanfiction #su fanfic #long post #(it should be considering there are 78 FICS IN HERE)#THIS POST IS ITSELF THE SIZE OF A FANFIC #(68 fics not 78)

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noonachronicles · 5 years ago

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Monsta X S/O Reaction to Their Kink

Loosely based off of a requested by @nemesyis but ended up with me really just doing whatever I felt like. lol

Warnings - As the theme is kinks, there are themes of smut. Please also note, that I took some liberties on a couple of the kinks and they are a bit on the kink lite side of things. Dacryphilia and graphoerotica are typically much more...intense, and often not as...nice. Basically I’m trying to say please be cautious, do your research, and be safe.

Authors Note - This ended up being really long. Are reactions supposed to be this long? Did I do it wrong??

Shownu - Garters and Stocking – Many men get turned on seeing a woman in this (now) uncommon underwear.

Hyunwoo had sat down at the table to eat his ‘between lunch and dinner’ meal. Which, as you knew, meant it would be the perfect time to get ready, because nothing distracted that man from his food which meant he wouldn’t be hanging around to distract you.

You were nearly ready, hair done up in victory rolls, eyeliner winged to perfection and lipstick red as a candy apple. You’d just been pulling the stockings up your legs and clipping the garter belt when you noticed you didn’t have the main component of your outfit.

“Crap...” you muttered before walking out to the living room.

You went quickly to the couch were you’d dropped a bunch of shopping bags from your last minute shopping spree that morning. Your mind elsewhere you didn’t even notice Hyunwoo look up from his plate.

It was just a quick glance. He knew it was you when he heard the movement in the adjacent living room but he had to look up, out of habit. When his eyes dropped back down to his plate he gulped. His mouth was watering and he wasn’t sure it was just because of the fried chicken in between his fingers.

“What...what’s that?” He asked from the table.

“What’s what, baby?” You called over your shoulder, still digging in your bags.

“Your outfit.” He said putting down the chicken leg in his hand and sucking on his fingers.

“Oh.” He bit his lip as he watched you bent over the back of the couch. The subtle black seam of the stockings lining the length of your legs. “It’s my outfit for the bachelorette party! It’s swing themed, remember? I told you. I just need...aha! The dress.”

You tugged the dress from the bag and turned around. You jumped back in surprise that Hyunwoo was standing right in front of you. Your forehead creased as he eyed you hungrily, you looked around his broad shoulders to the table where he still had half of his meal waiting.

“What are you doing?” You asked curiously as he lifted his hands to your hips and pulled you closer.

“I’m hungry.” He murmured, his large hands spreading out over your legs and running down the stockings and back up again.

“Well...you didn’t finish your food so...”

“Not hungry for that.” He said simply, leaning in to kiss your neck. “Hungry for you.”

“Oh.” You fisted the dress in your hand as his mouth moved over you. “I can’t, I’ll be late.”

He hummed and kissed the tops of your breasts, his hands moving over the lacy fabric of your bra before dropping back down, “I’ll make it worth it.”

You nodded, “Okay, but... don’t mess up the hair. Promise?”

He’d lifted your leg up against his hip and was running his hand over the stockings, “Only if you promise to wear these more.”

Wonho - Dacryphilia - When one is aroused by tears or sobbing.

Hoseok was only half surprised when you burst angrily through his front door. For weeks he’d felt horrible. Something had been eating at him and he wasn’t sure how to explain it to you, so instead of communicating he withdrew.

“Are you breaking up with me!?” You shouted as soon as you saw him. Tears and mascara were already streaking your cheeks.

And his shoulders sank. It was happening again.

The first time it happened the two of you had been cuddled on the couch after dinner watching Goblin. For you it was the third time through because you couldn’t get enough of it and he was watching because he couldn’t say no to you.

There was a particularly emotional scene playing and he couldn’t bare to watch it, knowing he’d probably cry. Instead he turned his gaze to you. That’s when it happened. You’d already been crying, tears clung to your lashes and streaked your cheeks. He thought you looked beautiful. He was in love with your emotion, your passion. So much that he felt a familiar stirring in his shorts. He instantly felt like a monster! How could he be aroused by your tears? Just the idea of you being upset broke his heart, so he shook it off as residual arousal from earlier and tried to forget it.

The second time had been different.

You’d been laying in your bed together. You were reading a book and he’d been working on music and both of you were taking breaks in between for a little kissing and heavy petting. It was an accident really. He’d been sliding his fingers over your skin when he hit a sensitive spot on your side. When you jolted with a laugh he couldn’t help himself. He had to tickle you more and before either of you knew it, you were crying with laughter. Tears streaming out of your eyes as you gasped out for air. It happened again, the stirring in his stomach. After that he found it hard to be around you. Just... in case.

“Answer me! Are you breaking up with me?” You asked again.

“I like when you cry!” He confessed.

You stepped back, “What?!”

“I don’t like when you’re sad or upset!” he specified, “Just...when you cry...you’re so beautiful. It’s...sexy.”

“What do you mean it’s sexy?”

“I know it’s weird. It’s why I didn’t tell you. It’s why I’ve been avoiding you.” He looked deflated.

Looking over at him you noticed the bulge in his shorts and raised your eyebrows, “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Yes. I don’t know why it’s happening.”

“You think...you think I look sexy right now?” He nodded and you looked over at the mirror hanging on the wall and quickly turned away in disgust of your hot mess reflection, “Ugh god... seriously? I look like a sad, crazy panda.”

“No!” He stepped in front of you and cupped your cheek. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

“Hoseok. This is so weird.” You muttered skeptically.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“So you’re really not breaking up with me?”

“No! I was worried you were going to break up with me.” He was a little worried you still might. “I love you...”

You sighed, “Okay.”

“Okay?” He asked.

“I love you too and as weird as this is... it could have been something weirder I suppose.” you shrugged.

He leaned in and kissed you hard, his arms wrapped around you, nearly lifting you off the ground. He was so relieved. When you had two feet solidly back on the ground you pulled back and looked at him. He’d really been so worried, in retrospect you found it almost amusing.

“There’s like...twenty more episodes of Goblin.” You whispered against his lips.

“Of course! We can do anything you want, for the rest of our lives, whatever you want. Anything to make up for this.” he said enthusiastically.

“No...I mean,” you ran your fingers up from his chest to his neck, “There’s like twenty more episodes of Goblin and every single one of them makes me cry.”

Hyungwon - Graphoerotica - Writing words on someone’s body.

You didn’t get a lot of dates with your boyfriend, as he was a very busy man, so when he asked if you wanted to be his date to a charity event you jumped at the chance. Being around so many celebrities made you just a tad anxious so when you found the clicky pen at the bottom of the swag bag they handed out at the door when you came in you held it like a lifeline in one hand while you held Hyungwon’s hand in the other.

He walked you around the party and introduced you to the people he knew and himself to some people he didn’t know yet. He’d met a producer that was interested in his dj/solo work and needed somewhere to take down his phone number. You’d left your phones at the table so you offered him the pen.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” He asked staring down at the pen.

“Write it on your hand...”

He pouted at you slightly and you stuck your palm out with a roll of your eyes. With a small smile he quickly wrote down the number of the producer. Afterwards he looked down at the ink on your skin and hummed thoughtfully before dropping the pen in your hand and going back to his conversation. Leaving you to think nothing of it.

A couple of days later you’d been laying in bed next to one another. Hyungwon was taking a nap and you’d been doing a crossword puzzle when you’d fallen asleep too. When you woke up Hyungwon was missing, likely in the kitchen getting food. Looking down at your arm you realized there was a mark that you thought had just been from knocking into the pen in your sleep. However upon closer review you realized Hyungwon had written ‘Hi Cutie :)’ on your arm. With a small smirk you let it go.

A week after that he’d invited you to the studio. He’d been there for days and missed you like crazy and you’d been more than willing to visit him. You sat on the couch talking to Jooheon about some of the collaborations he’d done on his latest mixtape while Hyungwon sat on the ground between your legs going over some checklists with Shownu. After awhile you felt the wet tip of the marker Hyungwon had been using press against your bare thigh.

“What are you doing?” You asked looking down at him.

He looked up at you innocently as he could, “nothing.”

“Mmhmm.” You hummed trying to look at what he’d drawn but he had covered it up under his large hands. “What are you drawing?”

He shrugged cutely, “Just a turtle.”

“You’re so weird.” You said ruffling his hair with your hand before going back to your conversation with Jooheon as he continued his drawing.

Maybe ten minutes passed when you felt Hyungwon press a kiss against your thigh before getting up to record his part of the song. You didn’t think about it. You didn’t think about the drawing until Jooheon looked down at your leg and chuckled.

“Point made hyung.” He laughed.

You looked down to see he had drawn a turtle like he said, only inside of the turtle he’d written ‘Property of Chae Hyungwon. Don’t Touch’. Your face reddened in embarrassment and you told Jooheon to tell Hyungwon his property took herself home.

When he arrived home later he slinked into the bedroom like guilty puppy waiting to be reprimanded. He was surprised to find you sitting on the edge of the mattress in his favorite lingerie. He stepped between your knees and looked down to see his art from earlier still on your skin.

“You didn’t wash it off yet?” he noted, dragging his finger over the ink.

You shook your head. “I kind of liked it. I like being yours Hyungwon...maybe just not in front of your friends like that.”

“You do?” he grinned.

Lifting your hand you offered him a more easily washable marker. “Do your worst.”

Minhyuk - Body Painting – Painting bodies, treating the skin as a human canvas.

Minhyuk and you had been dating for awhile now. He’d been a very ambitious lover since your very first time together, which you always appreciated from him. Recently, within the last few weeks, you’d just felt so comfortable with him. Really loved, like you could confess anything to him and he wouldn’t run away. So you had been. You told him all the weird little things you were into and he tried every single one of them for you with as much or more enthusiasm as you could have wished for.

One night, laying in bed, you watched him move under the blankets and realized that he’d been so understanding of your kinks and you’d never tried any of his. He’d been leaving little bruises on your hips and stomach with his mouth when you tore the blanket from him. He’d already left little love marks on your thighs and chest.

“Everything okay, Jagi?” He asked wide eyed as his head popped up.

“I just missed you.” You grinned, “Come back.”

With a bright smile he moved back up the bed to give you a proper kiss. After a moment you pulled away and gave him a smile.

“Minnie...” you whispered against his mouth, “what do you like?”

“I like you, Jagi.” He said giving you a quick kiss.

You laughed, “No, baby, I mean...what do you like? We’ve tried all the stuff I like. Isn’t there anything you want to do? Something you’d like us to try?”

He thought about it for a moment, his gaze moving passed you as he cyphered through his thoughts. There was a hint of excitement in his eyes but he quickly let it go before looking down at you and shaking his head.

“No. I like what you like.” he answered.

You frowned. “You don’t trust me? Are you...uncomfortable with me?”

“No!” He said reassuringly. “It’s just not a big deal.”

“Tell me, please?”

He sighed, “I guess...I’ve really only thought about it a couple times but, I’d like to...paint you.”

“Like one of your French girls?” You joked.

With a small smile he shook his head. “Not like that.”

“Well,” you sat up next to him, “tell me what you mean. We can try it.”

“Yeah?” You nodded and he jumped up enthusiastically, “okay!”

He left the room for a moment but was back quickly with an armful of paints and a hand full of brushes. Before long he had you lying on your back while he sat on the tops of your thighs. His tongue was sticking cutely out of the side of his mouth as he ran his brush over your abdomen a few more times perfecting his oceanscape. As he looked down at you his chest puffed with pride.

“See? No big deal.”

But it was a big deal. Between not being able to move beneath him and the gentle, wet strokes of his brushes you were trembling. Goosebumps lined your skin and your nipples had been so sensitive from when he painted them that every pass of cool air over the wet paint felt like the flick of his tongue and it was driving you insane.

“Was it horrible?” He grinned. Trailing his fingertip over the spots on your skin that had already dried. You shook your head silently as his hand reached the moist, heated fabric between your thighs. “Oh? I think you liked it quite a bit actually.”

You gasped as his fingers moved under the fabric of your panties and your back arched off the bed. Quickly his other hand was on your hip pushing you back down against the mattress.

“Don’t move.” He commanded, and your jaw dropped at the way his eyes moved over you, “It’s not dry yet. You don’t want to ruin it.”

Kihyun - Intelligence Fetish – Sexual arousal from intellectually stimulating conversation or debates.

Kihyun knew you were smart. It was one of the things that had immediately attracted him to you. Your intellect, your sense of humor, your good heart. He just hadn’t realized at first how much your intelligence attracted him to you, and the specific ways it affected him. He didn’t put much thought into the fact that after every debate over politics, every argument about some new scientific development or even little heated conversations about which group had a better comeback this week, he had to have you.

In fairness, though you were smart, you hadn’t put two and two together either. You always figured it was just adrenaline from another hot debate. The thrill of the argument maybe. That and the fact that Kihyun had, surprising to you when you first got together, a sex drive like a machine.

Realization hit him at a truly inopportune moment. The two of you had been having dinner out at a restaurant with Hyungwon and his most recent partner. The four of you had been in a mild conversation that was quickly turning into a heated, yet friendly, debate between you and Hyungwon. At first Kihyun just sat back, enjoying listening to your passionate opinions, agreeing with most everything you said. He was certain you were going to come out on top. You were so quick witted and clever. Even against a professional sass and back talker like Hyungwon.

As time passed, with every new point you brought up there was a new surge of blood to his dick until he was swollen and uncomfortable in his dress pants. He was a little confused by his arousal as you weren’t even arguing with him. He had no skin in the game. He didn’t really even care about what you guys were talking about if he was being honest. Still, here he was, wanting you. Needing you.

He adjusted himself in his seat and an accidental groan escaped his lips. You looked over at him and sighed.

“We should stop. This must be so boring for these two.” You said referring to your dates.

Hyungwon just shrugged, “Already giving up. I expected more from you, y/n.”

“Keep going.” Kihyun muttered from his seat. “Don’t stop.”

“Are you sure?” Turning back to him you raised an eyebrow, “I feel bad. You haven’t exactly been involved in the debate.”

Reaching down you placed a kind hand on his thigh, this time both eyebrows shot up. He just nodded, “Please...destroy him.”

“Okay.” You said with a blush and turned back to your opponent.

It didn’t take much more time at all, maybe ten more minutes of excruciating fore play, before it was clear the argument was yours. Hyungwon conceded with his pride still intact. And the two of you laughed over the whole thing as Kihyun pulled his wallet from his too-tight pants. He stood up and pulled you to your feet, honestly he just needed to use you as a way to hide his obvious erection.

“I don’t mean to be rude, please don’t take it that way. I had a lovely night,” he said dropping a wad of cash on the table, “If that’s not enough let me know and I’ll get you more later but we need to leave. Now.”

With that he maneuvered you through the restaurant like a bank robber using a teller as a human shield.

You barely heard Hyungwon call out, “Thanks for dinner, Young Flexer!”

Luckily you did hear and you laughed. You laughed again as Kihyun pushed you a little more aggressively and said, “Please, just keep walking I can’t wait any longer.”

Jooheon - Wax Play – Play with dripping hot wax on the skin.

The power had been out all day. It felt like you’d been taken back to medieval times once your uncharged phones finally perished. Some of it was nice. Just being with your boyfriend, Jooheon. No interruptions, no social media, no work. It was just the two of you and some much needed alone time together.

He was already pretty turned on. You’d been grinding on his lap for about fifteen minutes worth of make out session by candlelight. He whined when you pulled away, releasing his thick swollen lip with a pop.

“Give me two seconds.” you said, “I really have to pee.”

“Hurry.” He begged.

“I will!” You promised and reached over hurriedly to grab one of the candles next to the couch to take with you to the dark bathroom.

When you turned to get off of him you did so with a little too much enthusiasm and some of the wax from the candle splashed out over the rim and splattered across his chest.

“Oh fuck me!” He cried out.

You stopped everything to tend to him. “I’m sorry, Honey! Oh my god, baby are you okay?”

He watched as you blew on the wax to try and cool it quicker so you could peel it off his skin and as you did he realized that it didn’t exactly feel that bad. It was mostly just shock from the unexpected.

You gently rubbed the pinked skin, and pressed sweet kisses against his chest. “I’m so sorry, Honey. Please forgive me!”

“Babe, it’s fine.” He chuckled lightly, “I’m okay. Just go to the bathroom. I swear I’m not upset, it doesn’t hurt.”

“I’m still so sorry.” You whispered, you were shaking at the sight of how pink his skin still was.

“You’re okay. I’m okay.” He reassured you, “Now go, and hurry back. Just carefully this time.”

You did as he said and disappeared from the room. When you did he gulped and looked over at the other candle burning on the side table before picking it up. He looked back towards the doorway and then quickly dipped his fingertip into the liquid. The sensation sent a pleasurable chill down his spine.

You’d just walked into the door after work a few days later, long after the power had come back on and everything went back to normal. You dropped your keys in the bowl by the door and kicked off your shoes. You were absentmindedly sorting through the mail from the mailbox when you noticed the bag on the counter.

Curious as a cat you peeked into the plastic bag and immediately your brow creased. It was candles. A lot of candles. Picking up the bag and dropping the mail you made your way into the bedroom where Jooheon was sitting up in bed, his laptop sitting on his legs and his glasses falling off his nose.

“Honey...” you said from the doorway.

He looked up and smiled at you. “Jagi.”

You lifted the plastic bag at your side, “Expecting a sudden surge of blackouts?”

He laughed and shook his head, “Did you know you have to use a low temperature burning candle for safe wax play during sex?”

“Excuse me?” you choked out.

“Do you want to try it with me?” He asked enthusiastically, his dimple digging deep into his cheek. How could you say no?

Changkyun - Exhibitionism - Becoming aroused by the idea of being seen by others, or by the thrill of being caught.

As long as you had known him and in every aspect of your relationship, Changkyun was a limit pusher. He liked to find your line between acceptance and disapproval and then just inch by inch see how far he could move it until he was really in trouble with you. This meant you were both incredibly comfortable with him at all times and uncomfortable, in general, most times. And the fact that he was a bit of an exhibitionist was not a surprise to you. He’d given you about a hundred breadcrumbs along the path to what would be his eventual end game.

When you first got together it was hand holding. Were you okay with light PDA? Then it was kissing. First on the hand or the cheek. Then gentle nuzzles against your neck, his leg over your lap. It was cute, you thought, like a baby koala. Needy and clingy. You didn’t mind at all and everyone else in his life seemed used to the behaviors too.

Then he went a step further. Kissing in front of the others. Not cute, sweet kisses like before. Real kisses. Tongue between your teeth, irrepressible moaning, gentle groping. Kisses that left you flushed and frantically needing him alone afterwards. While he sat smugly beside you. Visibly unbothered by the heat bubbling between you and unconcerned about the disapproving eyes of his hyungs.

Next was a big leap. Miles outside of your comfort zone. Though, somehow, Changkyun had a charisma that made the discomfort more thrilling than anything else so you went with it.

It was movie night at the dorms and you’d been snuggled up together in the couch like usual. Changkyun had been whiny and needy all evening begging for you to feed him snacks while held onto you like a sloth on a tree branch. Sometimes it was sweet, when he held you. Warm and cozy. Somewhere about mid movie you could physically feel a shift in him. When you looked over to his face you saw the deviant look in his eye and the evil grin that crossed his lips.

You cleared your throat as he leaned in and kissed your clavicle. You’d been so distracted you didn’t even feel his hand snake between your bodies until it was much too late. You gasped loudly at a scene that absolutely didn’t call for it and several of the others turned to look at you in surprise. Changkyun gave his best sweet boy smile, and everyone went back to the movie.

“Don’t.” You murmured as his fingers teased your panty line.

“Please.” he begged.

You let out a slow breath and nodded. With your permission he slipped his fingers between your slick lips. He dragged his wet fingers back up and rubbed them slowly against your hardened rosebud.

“Kyun...” you whispered, panicked, “they’re gonna know.”

“They don’t know shit.” He whispered back before leaving a loud smooch against your cheek and turning back to the movie.

You bit your lip hard as he pumped his fingers into you, the heel of his palm, pressing heavy against your clit. After a few minutes all it really took was looking over at the dark look in his eyes and you were putty.

Wide eyed you mouthed, “I’m gonna cum.”

With a broad, amused smile he mouthed back, “I know!”

He was laughing as your head rolled back, and your toes curled beneath the blanket you’d been sharing. At least for him the laughter went appropriately with the film. Once you’d ridden your orgasm out on his fingers he pulled his hand from between your legs and grinned mischievously.

“What are you doing?” You hissed.

“I want some popcorn...” he laughed reaching into the bowl.

“Oh my god.” You groaned, mortified, as he came back to snuggle against you.

“I love you.” He grinned.

“You’re evil.” you sighed in defeat before getting up to replace the popcorn.

#monsta x reaction #lee jooheon scenario #shownu scenario #yoo kihyun scenarios #lee Minhyuk scenario #chae hyungwon scenario #wonho scenario #im changkyun scenario #monsta x smut #monsta x scenario

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sheliesshattered · 4 years ago

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Clearly my spacing and stitch sizing is a little off, but for a proof-of-concept and just eyeballing the distances as I stitched, I think this (very) rough draft of the embroidery for the Oswin apron turned out pretty good! For the real deal, I’ll have to iron that linen fabric, and then lay out my stitches with a ruler, make sure both the length and the width is closer to screen accurate than it is here.

The late night lighting on my craft table makes the red look really orangey, but it’s actually a perfect match for the red of the dress, which is somewhat of a miracle considering that I ordered them online from two different sources, sight-unseen. I would have been happy with close enough, so that was a nice surprise.

Doing all the embroidery for the apron will definitely take quite a lot of time, but even just this little bit was so relaxing and satisfying, I’m suddenly really looking forward to this project. I’m going to try to keep myself focused on finishing the belt in time for Halloween -- and I actually made really good progress on the most complicated bit of it today -- but once I have a little more free space on my craft table I think I might work on getting the first part of this prepped and measured out, so I can start embroidering in the evenings. I’ll probably start with the middle of the neckband so that my roughest stitches will be the least visible.

But first, the belt!

I really do want to get the belt finished in the next two weeks or so, so I can have the whole base costume to wear on Halloween. I have all the pieces for the belt pulled together, but nothing is actually assembled yet, and I don’t want to start attaching things to the belt until I have all the individual pieces made, so I can figure out the spacing. I’m making several of the weirder bits from various odds and ends I have lying around, but the only thing I’m making completely from scratch is the wedge-shaped oddity:

The screen-used one was probably a bit of toy the prop department dug up and painted, but since this costume has no pockets or bags of any sort, I want to turn that wedge into a flap-top pouch to stash my phone and room key and such in -- on the assumption, of course, that someday I will eventually get to wear this to an actual con.

My original plan for it was pretty simple, just a wedge-shaped bucket pouch with a flap that secures with magnetic snaps, make a faceplate out of foam to replicate the look of the screen-used one, easy peasy. But my phone is so big that keeping it upright made the wedge way too big compared to the rest of the belt. Turning my phone sideways helps, but to keep the pouch from getting too wide, the phone really needs to stay at the top of the wedge -- which then leaves a weird smaller wedge of empty space below it.

So now I’m thinking an upper pocket, accessed by lifting up the flap, where the phone will lay sideways, parallel to the belt itself. Then below that, a smaller pocket in the lower part of the wedge, which turns out to be perfectly sized for room key, credit card, ID, cash, chapstick, etc -- all those small but important things that I hate not having a way to stash on me while I’m in costume. That bit will have a zipper closure, hidden under the flap, so I can make sure none of that important stuff falls out.

Which all sounds like an excellent and useful final product, but trying to think my way through the 3D shapes involved was seriously breaking my brain earlier. I ended up spending like 30 minutes just sort of staring into space, imagining moving the fabric around, how I would connect the pieces together, where the weak points are likely to be (specifically, the bottom of the pocket that holds the phone), how to make the whole thing hold its shape when built out of scraps of wool, suede, and craft foam, and how to machine-sew the seams in the wool in an order that won’t result in being unable to sew something without sewing the whole pocket closed.

I think I have it. I’ve drawn out the foam faceplate in its true size, based on the size of my phone, and I’ve sketched all the pattern pieces for the wool lining in miniature. There are a couple of places where cutting the seam allowance from a flat piece of fabric will be a little odd, but I think I’ve managed to shift those to the corners that can survive having small holes (ie, my phone isn’t going to fall through a hole that size, but something like a safety pin might). Tomorrow I’m going to cut the whole thing out of paper in its true size, tape the seam allowances together, and make sure it actually works.

Did you ever make those 3D papercraft cubes as a kid? Where the six sides of the cube are printed on a single sheet of paper, with fold lines and extra little tabs so you can overlap it in places and tape it down? This is just like that, only it’s an irregular wedge shape instead of a cube, and the interior is broken up into two parts, with a solid wall in between them. And for the real deal, I can’t tape the edges, I have to pass the wool through a sewing machine, hopefully without any of it getting too fiddly. But hopefully the paper-and-tape version tomorrow should point out any flaws in my plan before I start cutting out the wool pieces.

I also did a proof-of-concept today on gluing both wool and craft foam to suede, and it seems to have gone well. Suede (and leather generally) is odd in that sewing it actually weakens it, so my plan is to make the interior out of wool, with a bit of (faux) horsehair braid to give it extra structure along the straight lines. Then I’ll glue pieces of suede cut to size onto the outside of the wool, to provide the outer body of the pouch, and give the whole thing more structure and strength. The back panel of suede will extend up and over to become the flap that covers the top and front of the pouch, and onto the exterior of that I’ll glue the foam pieces with all the details to match the screen-used one. I think with all those together, it’ll have enough strength and structure to keep its shape, but the wool interior will provide a soft and quiet lining, so nothing in the pockets is banging around.

But honestly, I’m mostly using these materials because I have scraps of black wool and black suede that have been lying around in my fabric stash for, oh, let’s see -- just over 9 years for the wool, and almost 18 years for the suede, though the suede at least has been used in other projects since then. These are small enough pieces that this is really all they’ll be useful for, and the black should be unobtrusive enough that the only thing anyone will actually notice will be the foam faceplate that looks like the screen-used one.

That’s the theory, anyhow. We’ll see how it all comes together. This is by far the most complicated bit of the belt, and it’s up there with how complicated it was to flat-draft the pattern for the drape at the neckline of the dress. Once this is done, putting together all the other little bits for the belt should go a lot faster, really just combining pieces together, gluing them down, and painting.

Not counting today or the 31st, there are 17 days left until Halloween. I should be able to knock out the whole belt in that timeframe, but only if I don’t let myself procrastinate too much. And on that note, maybe I’ll start on that paper mock-up tonight rather than putting it off until tomorrow...

#my costumes #my cosplay #my sewing #my embroidery #Oswin Oswald cosplay #Clara Oswald cosplay #Doctor Who cosplay #one of those weird days when I accomplished a lot but don't actually have anything to show for it #but hey the planning phase of stuff like this is super important too #hokay back to work

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thewritershelpers · 5 years ago

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Let’s Get Dressed (FULL)

A long, long time ago (2013, to be exact), H from TheWritersHelpers and C from WriteWorld (inactive) got together for a collaboration on how to write and describe clothing. This is the fruits of their labor.**

Anonymous asked: Any tips on describing clothing?

The Writer’s Helpers and WriteWorld have teamed up to create a series on clothing and fashion. These articles were primarily written in the context of how to write about clothing.

Clothing is a term that is used to describe items worn by humans (and recently other animals, like tiny dogs), either for practical reasons or for reasons of style. Since humans have been wearing clothing for tens of thousands of years, it’s probably best to narrow down the timeframe for the clothing you’re describing to a particular era, year, season, etc. With that in mind, let’s talk about fashion!

Fashion (n): A popular trend, esp. in styles of dress, ornament, or behavior.

We’ll be discussing the dress and ornament portion of this definition. Now, there are a few ways that fashion might affect your description of clothing: Your character might be fashionable, ahead of the times, behind the times, or apart from fashion entirely. All of this is going to make a difference not only in what the clothing actually is, but also in what there is to describe about said clothing. Let’s have a look at these different positions for your character on the fashion scale:

1. Fashionable. Fashionable characters are insiders. They are usually very in tune with what is hip with the kids. Fashionable characters (for an example, read the booksThe Devil Wears Prada,,The Princess Diaries, and Confessions of a Shopaholic) can usually have a backstory where they once were not fashionable- perhaps the unpopular nerd- and with a little help or luck, improve their fashion sense. Magazines such as Vogue, Seventeen, or GQ can act as guides for your fashionista characters in present day. For more on eras, check out the “Links to Look At” section at the end of this article. If you’re writing a fashionable character, you might use clothing labels to describe your character’s clothes as opposed to just describing the color, size, etc. You might also want to thread themes through the character’s style, such as the season or a trademark for the character (think always wears yellow or channels Audrey Hepburn on the red carpet). Materials vary often in fashion, but fashionable characters are more likely to wear expensive fabrics and jewelry. After all, they have a reputation to uphold.

2. Ahead of the times. These are the trendsetters, the fashion pioneers, the people who pave the way for others and push the boundaries in all the right ways. Trends come and go, but the fashion forward never look back. Characters wearing forward-thinking fashion (or couture) might find themselves in fur and duct tape and think nothing of it. Descriptions of their clothing might tend toward the bizarre and using eclectic words may help drive home the eccentricities of their style. For example: Her aluminum coat sparked like Tesla coils in the firelight. Weird descriptors aren’t a problem for fashion-forward characters. The weirder, the better.

3. Behind the times. There are those unfortunate souls who do not keep up with the fashion popular at the time your story takes place. Whether it’s the 1580’s or the 1980’s, not all fashions are universal. Styles come and go, but if your character’s whole wardrobe was procured twenty years before the story begins, they’re probably not up with the latest fashions. This might arise from monetary constraints or because of isolation, but the simple fact is: not everything is retro-chic.

Retro-Chic (adj): pertaining to the fashionableness of the nostalgic revival of a style.

Characters who are behind the times might have old clothes that aren’t in the best condition. They may not have the vocabulary to describe the clothes they wear or that others wear with any degree of accuracy. This most especially applies to clothing labels or technical terms for the design of clothes as the character is not up on the popular designers and the newest fashions.

Apart from fashion altogether. There are many reasons why a character might be apart from fashion. Fashion is essentially self-expression, and some people don’t care. Take into consideration religious preferences (monk attire is pretty standard), strict parental figures (if your character is a youngster), or time travel (we’re lookin’ at you, Doctor Who). Characters who stand apart from fashion may also be unaware of the terminology to accurately describe clothing popular at the time and in the place of your story. These characters might not, for example, know the word “silk” and so must describe around the word. They might not have any concept for manufactured material and therefore have trouble describing nylon or faux leather.

Links to Look At:

“Why Do We Wear Clothes?” by vsauce

Glossary of Clothing Terms by allwords.com

Your Guide to Clothing Terms by EBay

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Let’s look at detail. What sort of descriptors could you use, how could you use them, and why?

Try not to go overboard with the description, but make your descriptive words count. Let’s look at an example of a simple description of the two largest articles of clothing on an example character:

She wore a top and a skirt.

That’s pretty basic. “Top”, for example, isn’t very descriptive. After all, women’s fashion is complicated! So, let’s use specific terminology:

She wore a blouse and a skirt.

You might add color:

She wore a black blouse and a gray skirt.

You might add fabric descriptions (Remember, the color describes the fabric now, so it goes before the descriptive word for whatever material the clothing is made of):

She wore a black silk blouse and a gray tweed skirt.

There are other descriptors worth mentioning such as how the clothing drapes or hangs, its age and general condition, its size and length, and the overall feeling toward it from the narrator.

How it drapes: The dress was slinky; it clung to her curves and pooled like water at her feet.

Its age/condition: His jeans were faded and ratty at the seams, especially on the back pockets where there were inch-wide holes.

Its size/length: Her boyfriend’s XXL shirt nearly swallowed her up and fell to her knees like a shapeless potato sack.

Narrator feeling: It was an ugly gray uniform.

With all of these descriptors around, the business of relaying useful information to the the reader about a character’s clothing can get pretty muddled. No one wants to read a description like:

She wore a boring black silk blouse that was over-large, a few years old, and hung blandly from the crest of her breasts. Her shin-length gray tweed pencil skirt was also old and too small for her hips.

There is just way too much going on there. Too many descriptors. Cut out the adjectives and adverbs that aren’t absolutely necessary, the ones that don’t really add anything essential to character or the look and feel of the scene. You may think that the above example is so obviously bloated that it’s too easy for me to state offhand that you must hack away at its descriptors and leave only the bare essentials. Well, I agree, but it is possible to have a decent bit of description and still overshare. For instance, it might be way too detailed to embroider the blouse and skirt example thusly:

She wore a black silk blouse that shone in the flourescent light of the waiting room. It had loose sleeves that gathered at the crook of her elbows with a little bow and buttons covered in the same sleek material as the blouse. Her skirt was made of gray tweed and slightly out of fashion. The waist cut uncomfortably into her stomach just below her navel and the hem rode up past her knees when she sat. She couldn’t cross her legs in the skirt; it was too tight.

Now, if the “loose sleeves that gathered at her elbows” are described for a purpose--maybe she has an injury or blemish she’s trying to conceal or she’s very modest--then details of this kind are great to have. Unless the details of the clothes are important to develop the character or the plot or the setting, you need not distract the reader with unnecessary description.

There are a few methods to consider when describing clothing.

Blocks. Block style moves from the biggest, most noticeable articles of clothing to the smallest. It describes in a similar order to what the eye sees. Since the largest piece of clothing at around eye-level will be covering the upper body, block style usually starts there with a shirt or jacket or the bodice of a dress. Layers in an outfit are described from the outermost clothing item to the innermost item, then go back to catch the accent items.

For example: He wears a jacket, vest, and crisp white shirt with a checkered tie and matching blue pocket handkerchief.

Another fun tip: If items match, you only need to describe one with the corresponding details. Notice that I was able to omit the color of the tie because I said the blue handkerchief matched it and that I didn’t mention the pattern on the handkerchief because we knew that it at least looked good with a checkered tie.

In the instance of a dress, however, it is more likely that block style will point out the most noticeable (i.e. largest) part of the dress first. If the dress has a poofy skirt, you can bet block style will point that out. Regardless, if the article of clothing covering the upper body is separate from the article covering the lower body, block style usually describes the top first then moves to the bottom then to details like shoes, belts, and jewelry.

Colors. A large part of clothing is color. The color of what a person wears often depicts their mood without them realizing. It has a lot to do with color psychology (x), which describes how different colors affect a person’s mood. The human eye is also attracted to bright colors (some of which even cause headaches and irritation, such as bright yellow or red), though the average eye can see around seven million colors. For more information on color theory, click here.

More likely than not, a person wearing orange might be noticed before a person wearing gray. The eye is drawn to the orange because it is bright and demanding. Weather also affects what colors a character would wear. For example, in winter months, many people wear darker colors such as black, navy, grays, and browns (termed neutrals) because the lack of Vitamin-D in the human body doesn’t allow for endorphins to be produced as largely, causing a decline in mood. It is commonly believed that darker colors represent darker or depressing moods. And in summer months, your character might be wearing brighter colors such as yellows, pinks, and greens because sunlight elevates a person’s mood.

It is also important to remember the cultures of your characters. Say a character is getting married and is of Irish descent. Assuming she’s traditional, she would wear a blue wedding dress because in ancient times, blue represented purity and was the prefered color for brides. In many cultures, such as in Sweden and China, the color white represents mourning or death. It is essential to research the culture of your characters. Otherwise, you may end up with a white wedding that feels like a heck-of-a-lot more like a funeral. For more on what brides wear around the world, click here. For more on color symbolism, try here and here.

Describing colors can be difficult and you don’t want to be put into the category of really cliche fan fiction descriptions. His green orbs watered and he blinked to keep the tears from spilling over... Not happening here. Generally, you’ll need another word to help describe the color of something (for a list, click here). For example:

His shirt was pastel blue.

Placing “pastel” in front of “blue” indicates that the blue that he was wearing was lighter, or closer to a neutral color than if he were to be wearing a dark blue shirt.

Her jeans were covered in patches fabric with flamboyant pink bunnies.

What do you think when you see the word flamboyant? You think bright; you think colorful; you think brightly colored and decorated. It adds more than just saying “Her jeans had patches in them”. Don’t be afraid to dip into the Crayola Crayon color dictionary and use names of colors like “Mac n’ Cheese Orange” or “Sahara Desert”. Used in the right context, these colors can add another dimension to your regular oranges and browns. Though these fun words are great alternatives to your average colors, be careful not to overuse them. No one wants to read one incredibly-detailed clothing item after another.

Fun fact: If you put a group of women in a room, those who are wearing red are most likely on their period.

Reverse Order of Dress. This is a weird one. When in doubt, describe in the order that you put on your clothes--backwards. Obviously, you’d want to start with the visible items and work your way closer and closer to the body. So, if you put on your shirt then your pants then your cardigan then your shoes, describe in that order.

** This is not to say that H will not continue this series later on. However, this is the extent of their collaboration.

#Collab #Collab with WriteWorld #WriteWorld #Lets Get Dressed #Describing clothing #description #writing clothing #writing help #Made by TWH

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lizziestudieshistory · 3 years ago

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Books of 2021 - June

I had a pretty fabulous reading month! At least for me and considering I spent a lot of this month battling with my reread of Words of Radiance... (I'll get to that when I write my full length review)

Peter and Alice by John Logan - I love this play, I've loved it since I first read it in high school (now that was a long time ago at this point!) It never fails to make me cry...

Logan has cleverly intertwined the real life stories of Peter Llewelyn Davies and Alice Liddell Hargreaves with the stories of Peter Pan and Alice in Wonderland to consider what it would have been like for the real people who inspired J.M Barrie and Lewis Carroll. It's largely told through imagining a conversation between Davies and Hargreaves when they met at a book release in 1932, and as they talk Peter Pan, Alice, Barrie, Carroll, and other figures from their lives come on stage to make them reveal the truth about their experiences. It's heartbreaking, raw, and incredibly poignant to read - I can imagine it was even more powerful to watch and I wish I could've seen it performed!

I've loved both these books since I was a kid and reflecting on the effect they had on these two people is fascinating to consider, especially in the case of the Davies family. I've read a few different takes on both Hargreaves and Davies lives, and I'm not sure what I really think - the legacy of Peter Pan was clearly very difficult for Davies... However, none of the works I've read or seen have had the impact if this very short play. I'd highly recommend it, even if you don't like Alice in Wonderland or Peter Pan, because it is a stunning play.

Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare - I don't have a vast amount to say about Julius Caesar to be honest. It was fine? I can see why some people go mad over this play, however, I'm not a huge fan of Shakespeare's tragedies (my favourites are the comedies, although the histories have the most interesting for me as a historian.) It's an interesting play, but I do think it needs a really good production to do it justice and I haven't found one that's made me fall in love with it.

I did very much enjoy tracking the, quite frankly, bizarre combination of early modern Christianity with Roman religion and beliefs though. That was fascinating to observe and think about - and Mark Antony's famous speech at Caesar's funeral IS a masterpiece. That whole scene reminded me of the argument episodes in Greek tragedies (I assume Shakespeare was influenced, but I'm not an expert) and I greatly enjoyed picking apart the arguments presented, and watching Antony deconstruct everything Brutus had initially claimed.

Senlin Ascends by Josiah Bancroft - I enjoyed this book, although it was a slight let down for me. I think it was just too overhyped? I went in expecting it to be a lot more character driven than it was, particularly with Senlin himself, and a lot weirder. Don't get me wrong, this book felt like a drug trip in places, especially in part one! The worldbuilding was one of the strengths of this whole novel, but it wasn't enough to keep me in love with it. I wanted a bit more weirdness and subtle danger, and less repetition of the Tower is dangerous, ooh look Senlin's getting punched again...

I also needed more character development, and a bit more complexity regarding the workings of the Tower itself. Senlin is a great character and I loved watching his transformation from a fussy schoolteacher to a real player in the Tower's machinations, but everyone else remained fairly flat... I do think this will be resolved in the later books as the story expands to encompass more of the Tower than Senlin's hunt to find his wife - but this book needed a bit more to make me fall in love with it. Still it was a good first novel in a series, even if it did feel more like three related novellas than one complete novel!

Amberlough and Armistice by Lara Elena Donnelly - I’m going to write a series review of the Amberlough Dossier because these have been a delightful surprise! I was expecting something a bit vapid - pretty but shallow. I was so wrong. This series IS very pretty, the setting and feeling scream the 1930s, every page bleeds it (so much so I always feel under dressed when reading it!) At atmosphere is so well drawn, it’s simple and small but absolutely beautiful. Worldbuilding is often praised for how grand and lavish the author has made it, but Donnelly has shown just as much skill on her tiny canvas of Amberlough City.

On top of this she’s written some stunning characters - Cyril, Aristide, and Cordelia are incredible in Amberlough, and the addition of Lillian and Jinadh in Armistice only improved the series! Even when I don’t particularly like the main characters it’s because of a clash in personality, not a badly written character. However, the real stars are Cordelia and Aristide - I personally love Cyril, but I can see why he might rub people up the wrong way. Aristide in particular is carrying a lot of this series but Donnelly really does shine in her character work and setting.

These books aren’t world changing but they are lovely comfort reads, incredibly stylish, and have a lot more depth to them than you might think! They’re the kind of thing you devour back to back - I seriously wish I had the time to sit and read each book in a day because I would very happily do that!

Words of Radiance by Brandon Sanderson - I’ll be writing a full length, excessively long review of this book in the next few weeks so I’m not going to say much here. However, this is (contoversially) my least favourite entry in the Stormlight Archive, and I disliked parts of it so much than I’m actually angry at it... I’m leaving the series for a bit but I will be back to finish my reviews before the end of the year.

#books of 2021 #mini book reviews #booklr #reading #june reading

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primrose-path-of-dalliance · 4 years ago

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prim’s wildemount map scale adventures

i apologize in advance to the folk that use screen readers for this post’s reliance on image references, i will do my best to make my logic and the contents of the images comprehensible in the text portions.

this post isn’t about spoiler territory either, so i won’t go into detail about how recent developments with e111 were the initial reason i started thinking about distance on the official wildemount maps. besides, i think plenty of people will understand when i say that my digging got a lot bigger than the initial question itself lol. regardless, i’m making this post in the hopes that it might be a little helpful for anyone dealing with the same confusion.

see, i realized the funny thing about the official wildemount maps is that they don’t have any scales. as a basic explanation, scales are those funky little bars usually found on maps that illustrate what distance on the map is equivalent to what distance in ‘reality’—AKA the scale of the map.

however, for whatever reason, matt and co. did not create any for the broader wildemount maps like of the menagerie coast or the zemni fields.

[id: two images from the explorer’s guide to wildemount. the first depicts the region of the menagerie coast and related islands in the lucidian ocean. the second depicts the zemni fields, which is the central area of western wynandir and the dwendalian empire at large. map scales are absent from both images. /end id.]

this was a little baffling and unhelpful, but i’m not here to judge matt about his choice to not include scales, considering how it would give people on twitter even more ammunition to rudely question his dming with.

but then i discovered that the maps of the major cities do have scales.

(continuing past a readmore.)

[id: an image from the explorer’s guide to wildemount. it is a map of the city of rexxentrum, the capital of the dwendalian empire. in the lower left corner is a compass rose illustrating the cardinal directions and a scale. /end id.]

at first, i was excited. maybe i could use the city’s map scale to approximate a scale for the larger maps. it wouldn’t be super accurate, especially as things got bigger and errors grew larger, but it would be a little better for some thought experiments than no scale at all.

but then it got weirder.

since the map of rexxentrum takes up a full page, the resolution of the image makes it difficult to read the map scale. so let me zoom in.

[id: an image at a higher resolution of the lower left corner of the rexxentrum map, clearly displaying the compass rose and the scale. the scale is a thin horizontal bar separated into four equal lengths of alternating black and white, with indicators claiming that each part represents 500 miles for a total bar length of 2000 miles. /end id.]

so. maybe some of you can already tell what the problem is.

for those with slightly worse spatial understanding though, that map scale is measuring in miles. and a mile is pretty damn long.

let’s have a comparative illustration from real life to show my point. los angeles, california, is the city in the united states where the critical role cast live and work and stream us their wonderful d&d games. the los angeles area as a whole is massive. anyone who lives there understands what i’m saying and has probably wept before while in traffic (and i’m sorry).

if we use the google maps function to get a distance in miles between two points in the los angeles area...

[id: a screenshot of a google maps route for traveling on foot from the olive view-ucla medical center in the far north of the los angeles area to the los angeles international airport in the southwest. the route is fairly direct as the bird flies due to the on-foot nature of the route and is labeled to be a distance of 31.1 miles. /end id.]

this is a pretty good representation of the distance from one end of los angeles to the opposite end. a modern city with a population of about 4 million people, filled to the brim with urban sprawl and suburbs.

and that distance is 31 miles, or about 50 kilometres.

that scale in the corner of the rexxentrum map? its claimed length of 2000 miles (over 3200 km) measures less than a seventh of the apparent width of rexxentrum. according to the scale, you would have to travel a distance of over 14,000 miles (over 22,500 km) to get from one end of the city to the other.

simply put, that scale at face value is nonsense lol.

[id: a screenshot of discord messages with no identifying account attached. the messages begin with, in all caps, “EXCEPT THE SCALE FOR REXXENTRUM MAKES NO SENSE” (new line) “WHAT IS THIS MATT MERCER?????” an image of the lower left corner of the rexxentrum map follows. below that is the final visible message which reads, in all caps, “DO YOU KNOW HOW BIG A MILE IS SIR. DO YOU KNOW HOW FAR TWO THOUSAND MILES IS SIR.” /end id.]

so. maybe you are wondering if matt, huge nerd that he is, is making some oblique historical reference to a previous measurement of a “mile” that is way shorter than the modern standard mile. that was the first possible explanation to occur to me! unfortunately, based on the wikipedia article on the mile throughout history, there is no prior known definition of a “mile” short enough to make this scale make any sense.

so maybe the explanation is a unit error. maybe it’s meant to be a smaller unit of length, like a metre or a foot.

i spent a bit of time trying to guess which unit it might be by comparing details of the map to each other, since there are detailed individual buildings and roadways illustrated. it quickly became obvious, though, that the details were more for artistry and not to a reliable scale.

so it was time to dive into the transcripts.

i looked for a point where matt not only described the length of time it took for the mighty nein to travel from point A to point B within rexxentrum, but a point A and a point B that i could locate with confidence on the map. i found a scenario that fit the bill in e86, “the cathedral,” when the party raced from the cobalt soul branch in rexxentrum to the chantry of the dawn.

MATT: [...] And you've stepped out from the Rexxentrum Archive of the Cobalt Soul into the wet, slick cobblestone streets of the city, heading eastward towards the base of the Shimmer Ward, where it is believed this cathedral, known as the Chantry of the Dawn, stands.

this bit (beginning 13:39) is the first clue in matt’s narration to locating the endpoints on the map. the chantry of the dawn is located near the base, suggesting the immediate south, of the shimmer ward, and is in an eastward direction from the cobalt soul. this is consistent with the relevant textual descriptions in the explorer’s guide to wildemount: the rexxentrum branch of the cobalt soul is located within the court of colors on the west side of the city, while the chantry of the dawn is near the southern wall of the shimmer ward.

[id: two images of the rexxentrum map. the first is composed of the center and western area of the city, displaying the labeled wards of the tangles and the shimmer ward along with individual points labeled “R7,” “R6,” “R3,” “R1,” and “R2″ from west-most to east-most. at the bottom is the map scale, added for reference, that measures about a fifth of the entire image.

the second image is the legend of the map, which defines a few of the illustrated details and clarifies the R-series labels. truncated to relevance: R7 is the court of colors, R6 is the vigil’s circle, R3 is the academy grounds, R1 is castle ungebroch, and R2 is the candles. /end id.]

as the party made their way to the chantry, matt revealed a few more notable details on where precisely they’re traveling through (17:18).

MATT: [...] Your [Caleb’s] eyes train on the rising walkways and towers of the Soltryce Academy that are peeking over the walls of the Shimmer Ward that you can just make out on the horizon as you pass by a series of buildings where the roofs are a bit lower than the other ones you've been rushing by. You can see pale yellow walls that surround the Shimmer Ward of the capital.

You begin to approach the exterior of the Vigil’s Circle, which is a region between where you are and your destination, as noted by the network of ring-like streets that denote the circular marketplace, some varied shops, and industries that normally fill this area, as well as the mini-fortress of gray rock known as the Tower of Writ.

the view of the soltryce academy is consistent with an approach from the western side of the city, since the academy is located along the inner side of the shimmer ward’s northwest wall. the placement of the vigil’s circle in between the cobalt soul and the chantry is also consistent with their depictions on the map, as the vigil’s circle is both labeled and illustrated through a pattern of circular roads with an apparent depiction of the tower of writ in the center.

anyway, the mighty nein had traveled a little ways into the outskirts of the vigil’s circle from the west when they were abruptly stalled by a giant purple xhorhasian worm coming out of the ground.

at that moment in time is when liam gets a travel time from their current location to the chantry (21:26).

LIAM: Caduceus just asked how far we are from the chantry. Would I know that?

MATT: You would know you're probably about, I'd say, depending on— with it being pretty empty, maybe seven minutes.

this brings me to getting a precise location on the chantry of the dawn. both the explorer’s guide to wildemount and matt’s narration only describe the chantry as located within the tangles and near the southern wall of the shimmer ward. that’s a wide potential area to be seven minutes from.

there’s a pretty helpful pattern in the map details, though. most landmark buildings are visible—the soltryce academy campus is clearly delineated, as well as the colorful tower rooftops of the candles and, as previously noted, the top of the tower of writ. castle ungebroch stands massive in the center of the shimmer ward illustration.

so if the chantry of the dawn is both a huge structure and a significant landmark, that should merit a visible illustration of it on the map.

[id: the image of the western and central area of rexxentrum plus map scale appended to the bottom, edited to include my personal labels. R7 is encircled in red with the label “cobalt soul,” R6 and the visible circular road complex is encircled in blue with the label “vigil’s circle,” and a large rectangular rooftop by the southwest corner of the shimmer ward is encircled in red with the label “chantry to [sic] the dawn.” /end id.]

the position of this large building fits the details of the narration and its description in the explorer’s guide—it’s near the southern wall of the shimmer ward, it is eastward of the cobalt soul, and streets of the vigil’s circle lie on the direct path from the court of colors to this building.

so there’s the approximate location of the chantry of the dawn. we also know the approximate location of the mighty nein on this map.

[id: an image, almost identical to the last, of the marked-up western and central area of the rexxentrum map plus map scale, but with a further addition of an orange star in the northwest corner of the vigil’s circle labeled “mighty 9.” /end id.]

since they had entered the outskirts of the vigil’s circle from the direction of the cobalt soul, they would be within its northwest area by the time they were interrupted via purple worm shortly after.

two approximate locations with a travel time in between means that now i could estimate a distance in length. so i took a look at the d&d official rules for movement speed:

a fast pace is about 400 feet per minute,

a normal pace is about 300 feet per minute.

for campaign 2, matt as a dm tends to follow the official rules. so taking into account how the urgency of the situation had the party moving quickly, along with the emptiness of the streets eliminating the variable of a slowed pace through crowds, the mighty nein are likely traveling between 300 and 400 feet per minute to get to the chantry.

with matt’s provided estimate of 7 minutes, that means the on-foot distance from the party’s current position to the chantry is somewhere between 2100 to 2800 feet.

[id: a zoomed-in image of the marked-up western and central rexxentrum map, focused on the vigil’s circle and the chantry of the dawn. imposed beside the orange star representing the mighty nein’s location and the chantry is the map scale edited to remove the ‘miles’ indicator. its position allows a viewer to measure the distance between the mighty nein and the chantry to about “1500,″ or three-fourths of the total length of the scale. /end id.]

since the scale there measures distance as the bird flies, comparing it to the probable distance the mighty nein had to travel needs to account for the twists and turns of the streets.

with that in mind, though: an as-the-bird-flies distance of around 1500 feet sounds like a pretty good approximation of the estimated on-foot distance of 2100 to 2800 feet!

so with that, it’s probably safe to guess the map scale meant to claim feet instead of miles as its unit of length.

so far i haven’t puzzled out how i might translate this into a makeshift scale for the larger maps, since none of the cities like rexxentrum are clearly illustrated on them. but if anyone was very confused about the unit of length for the city maps’ scales, i think i’ve reached a reliable conclusion that it should be feet.

hopefully some of you find this helpful!

#cr #critical role #rexxentrum #maps #wildemount #wynandir #prim post #prim says some things #long post #VERY long post #readmore #enjoy this dump of what i spent a few hours on thursday night out of sheer curiosity and frustration

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ordinaryschmuck · 4 years ago

Text

Top 20 BEST Animated Series of the 2010s-16th Place

All aboard the hate train! Because I’m about to say a show people would put in their top tens where it hasn't even made my top fifteen!

CHOO-CHOO!

#16-Regular Show (2010-2017)

The Plot: Two twenty-something slackers named Mordecai and Rigby are working in a local park named...The Park (Yeah, it’s a pretty lazy title when you think about it). When they’re not doing work, they’re usually slacking off by playing video games and hanging out as best bros should. However, amongst their sacred duty to avoid work at all costs, these two friends learn the ordinary isn’t as regular as one would think. Can they survive whatever life throws at them without getting fired? Judging by the number of seasons this show got...probably.

One thing I should mention right away is that this series was the perfect show for teenagers...and the occasional stoned college student. But teenagers, most of all! Or at the very least, teenagers in late middle school and early high school. And when I say that, I don’t mean that Regular Show panders to teens by using slang or sexy women (most of the time), but it at least knows how to talk to them. And it all has to do with the situations Mordecai and Rigby find themselves in.

Aside from when Mordecai and Rigby are forced to fight demons and monsters, any teen can relate to what Mordecai and Rigby go through in Regular Show. Most teens wish to escape responsibilities to play video games or to just goof off. And the lengths that Mordecai and Rigby go through to make that happen helps the target audience root for them. Teens can also relate to the personal issues Mordo and Rigs face. Rigby often struggles with growing up and trying to become a better person. He often comes across as annoying at times, but his attempts to change are both admirable and even relatable. Then there’s Mordecai, who faces something more dangerous than any monster these guys have met: Relationship issues (and also self-doubt, but it’s the relationship issues that the show focuses more on).

Now I know that I’ve complained about romantic subplots in the past and that for some fans, the romance was what dragged this series down as well, but I personally think the romantic subplots are one of the best things about the show. Mordecai’s struggles to have/keep a girlfriend is something that most guys (and maybe even some girls) can relate to. And while I would rather have the show focus more on his self-doubt rather than relationship drama, there is still the essence of self-doubt as seen through how he struggles with making the first move with a girl. The best example of this is in the episode “It’s Time," where Mordecai keeps chickening out to ask out Margret and ends up paying the consequences for it. The self-doubt is still there, but it’s just hidden under romantic drama. However, there is a love triangle, but it lasts no more than just a season-long and is completely tame compared to Star V.S. the Forces of Evil.

And while Regular Show primarily focuses on Mordecai’s love life, there are still other relationships in the show that manage to also be pretty entertaining. I legitimately love the fact that Muscle Man and Starla is the perfect couple, even though it’s revolting to see them be romantic with each other. Not only is it hilarious, but it even comes across as sweet at times. Speaking of sweet (kinda spoilers ahead), both Rigby and Eileen are adorable in later seasons. Rigby is far from perfect, but he honestly tries to be better and more understanding of Eileen. The best part is that Eileen doesn’t encourage him to do this. She likes Rigby for Rigby. Faults and all. Not only is that something most romantic partners should try to aim for, but it’s really adorable to see. (kinda spoilers over). And while not romantic in the slightest, the friendship between Mordecai and Rigby is honestly the best. They both have a great dynamic, and the interactions they have with each other legitimately feel like I’m watching real best friends having fun. I’m not kidding when I say there are actual moments where I forget that these are just characters voiced by people in a booth. Because they come across as THAT authentic.

Speaking of characters, I'm amazed by how there isn’t one in this series that I hate. Or at the very least, not a single character that I’ve learned to deal with. As for characters I love, Benson is on the top of that list. Not only are his frustrations with Mordecai and Rigby hilarious at times, but his struggles to have a life with meaning is something all of us can relate to. Then there's Skips, who is this stoic badass who actually has more layers to him than one might realize. Both Pops and Muscle Man also have great depth to them, one more than the other, while also managing to be the funniest characters. The only characters I really have slight problems with are Margaret, Thomas, and High Five Ghost (Yes, that’s actually his name). Margaret has little to no development until season seven, and even then, there’s really not much done with her. As for Thomas, he was forced into the story, and I felt nothing when he eventually got written out. Then there’s Fives, who doesn’t really have any personality other than being Muscle Man’s bro. While I’ve grown to live with these characters being in the show, they still have problems that I can’t really ignore.

And while we’re on the topic of problems, there is one main issue that I should mention first, and that’s the fact that this show is so weird. That stoned college student jab wasn’t just a joke because it honestly feels like you have to be high to understand the logic of this show's production. Just from looking at the main cast alone, I struggle to wonder how J.G. Quintel came up with these ideas. Not only that but the situations these characters find themselves in can range from bizarre to holy-crap-someone-had-to-be-high-while-making-this. And somehow-SOMEHOW-it gets weirder with each passing season. Sometimes I’m okay with shows embracing the weirdness, but even I have a limit for this series.

Another problem I should mention is Regular Show’s animation. The animation in this series is not all that great. Usually, that isn’t a problem because it relies on dialogue and bizarre imagery to entertain viewers. However, there are occasions when Regular Show utilizes action scenes, and that is when the poor animation really drags the series down. There’s neither weight nor choreography for any of the fights. And rarely can you feel the punches that the characters exchange with each other. Because of this, the action feels both slow and kind of boring at times. A problem that wouldn’t exist if the series had just slightly better animation.

However, what really drags this series down is its seasonal rot. By season five (six if I’m feeling generous), the show starts to lose its magic. The first thing to leave is its maturity. I don’t know if it’s child censors catching up with the writers or if the target audience just got younger, but it is painful to see this show become more kid-friendly. It used to not be afraid of having the characters be in the middle of a shootout (with real guns and rocket launchers, by the way), but by season seven, the series resulted in using lasers and bean bag guns. What also eaves is the show’s sense of humor. At first, the jokes were pretty funny. But after a while, they start to lose their mojo and can be awkward at times. But none of this compares to what happens in Regular Show’s final season. Without giving too much away, the eighth season puts the characters in an environment that doesn’t really fit the show. There are times where even the characters don’t feel like themselves, and it gets to the point where it seems like I’m no longer watching Regular Show anymore. I don’t know how other fans felt about that season, but that’s how I felt throughout most of it (It’s also been four years since the finale, and I still don’t understand how the last two minutes are even possible).

Regular Show is not meant for everyone. Hell, at a point, it no longer became the perfect show for its original target audience. However, that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to enjoy. It’s funny, has great characters, and while it gets pretty weird at times, most fans loved that weirdness for six years. It’s nowhere near the best show in the 2010s, but it was still a good show. A jolly good show indeed.

(That last line makes more sense if you seen the series)

#top 20 of 2010s #regular show #what i thought about

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luccislegs · 5 years ago

Note

hc Luffy joins the whitebeards before his own crew au? Like, something happened that forced him to leave the island righter after Ace and he went to look for his brother only to keep missing him and somehow find his way to the whitebeard's crew? (maybe one of their divisions was in paradise and picked him up, but he's very clear he'll leave one day to make his own crew and whitebeard is okay but lu is still his son) and when Ace finally joins the crew Lu's division comes back and Ace is like wtf

luffy isn’t entirely sure what happened, but he remembers clearly enough that bandits were involved. and now here he is, floating in a small rowboat in the middle of the east blue three years earlier than he intended. he’s very briefly concerned about what dadan and makino would think, but then his stomach rumbles.

it takes him a day or so, but he finally manages to reach an island. he knows for sure it isn’t his, but there’s at least food. he asks around a little about how he can get back, but then he catches wind that ace might be there. a little further digging reveals he’s already moved on and luffy huffs in disappointment.

it feels like decades that he’s chasing his brother’s dust, and he’s on the verge of giving up. from what he understood, ace was already well on his way into the grand line and luffy’s chances of reaching him before he does are slim. still, he stops for a break in logue town, because he’s always wanted to see the place of roger’s execution.

breaking the execution platform was not a part of his plan, but it sure is cool. it also attracts the attention of the marines, and luffy’s having a hard enough time escaping from them when he’s hoisted off his feet by a weird old guy with a weirder mustache.

“what do you think you’re doing, punk?” he asks, giving luffy a once over. he’s holding him up by the scruff of his vest, and he fixes on the straw hat on top of his head.

“i just wanted to see what roger saw. I didn’t know it would break,” luffy says, shrugging nonchalantly. “hey pops, could you let me go, i’m runnin’ from the marines.”

“no can do, son. you’re comin’ with us,” he answers and turns, leaving the marines to the rest of his crew. he knew that hat, and he wants to know how this runt has it.

one length conversation later, and whitebeard has convinced luffy to join his crew, on the condition that he would one day leave to start his own crew. whitebeard concedes it, but he’s relieved luffy had even agreed. the kid might act dumb, but it seemed even he realized that a fourteen year old wasn’t going to survive long on his own in the grand line. once he was ready, whitebeard would gladly let him strike out on his own.

he assigns luffy to one of the other divisions and doesn’t see him for a few months. in the meantime, he picks up another scruffy, angry teenager. he doesn’t recognize the kid at first, but as soon as he speaks his name whitebeard laughs.

“i know someone who’s very interested to see you,” he tells the hot-head, who only glares at him while waiting for him to explain. but whitebeard leaves it hanging. if he thought that whitebeard had some interesting information, it might make him less likely to run off. “you’ll have to wait a few weeks, though. better make yourself comfortable.”

the day finally arrives, and ace is antsy, frantically pacing the deck of the moby dick while awaiting…whatever it was. at last, marco points out a ship on the horizon, giving ace a knowing grin. the ship finally pulls up alongside the moby, and lines are thrown, but still ace doesn’t see what’s so important.

then, from above, a weight lands on his shoulders, sending him crashing to the floor.

“ACE!” a voice screams in his ear. monkey arms wrap around him so tightly he can hardly breathe, but he recognizes that obnoxious breath.

“luffy?! what the hell are you doing here?” he asks, pulling luffy’s arm down from where it had wrapped around his eyes. he can’t see his younger brother on his back, but he knows exactly where to pinch to get him to remove his arms.

as soon as he’s free, he turns around and slams luffy into the deck of the ship, and luffy laughs loudly.

“it’s good to see you! i chased you through the whole east blue, before pops finally picked me up. man, have i got a story to tell you. but how did you end up here?” he asks, picking himself up.

“we’ve got time for that later,” marco interrupts, slinging an arm around both boys before leading them towards whitebeard. “right now, there’s a marine base that needs plundering. i hear they have a lot of food to spare.”

#portgas d. ace #monkey d. luffy #whitebeard #one piece headcanons

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mahalkitajohnnysuh · 5 years ago

Text

The Model and The Stylist

Hello there! Finally, my first story post! Sorry for the delay, but I was busy with work as always, and I was feeling down for the past couple of days. Anyway, I decided to share this first because your boy’s been getting a lot of exposure lately – modeling, that is. That W Korea May 2020 editorial with Jaehyun is so divine that your girl pre-ordered her copy even if it will take her maybe until the end of the year to get it. See that GIF? Damn!

This story was based on the story of one of my characters in my original story written ages ago for a friend, and I’m glad that something came out of it now.

You’ll also get to meet Essie Park now, my Y/N that got a name. I might still post my first stories with Y/N in it, so look out for that. I hope you’ll enjoy and let me know what scenarios you’d like me to write about.

Mahal ko kayong lahat! :)

–––

Summary: Let’s keep it simple: this is an AU where OC is a fashion editor/stylist, and Johnny is a model.

Word count: 1,600 + words

Genre: Romance, Comedy

Warning: It’s so fluffy and cheesy, you might as well think you’re munching on cheese popcorn. But I think this is my specialty so...yeah.

–––

Essie decided that from this day onward, she would make Johnny’s life a living hell.

He was one of the most uncooperative models she has ever met – he didn’t bring what was needed, didn’t arrive on time, and didn’t listen to her instructions.

Even though she was a fashion assistant at the magazine she was working for, he didn’t give her the respect she needed for her job.

Instead, he bossed her around – asking her to buy him Starbucks, charge his gadgets, and even get him a top that he could use to his next event.

“Cheska, I need more coffee. Can you buy me another iced Americano, please? With more hazelnut syrup too,” he ordered with that sickeningly sweet tone of his.

“My name is not Cheska!” she roared before storming out of the set. She wasn’t even halfway through the shoot and he had already worked her like his slave.

When she got inside the coffee shop, she went on autopilot and ordered his drink of choice. As she stepped out with the drink on hand, she slapped her forehead in annoyance. “I should’ve tampered with his drink to get even with him!” She grumbled, staring at the iced drink in disdain. “Unless…” Her thoughts led her to some of the cruelest pranks she has seen until she figured out what she can do with his coffee.

Once back on set, she decided to do the classic prank: accidentally throw the drink all over him. It was a good thing that he was still wearing his regular clothes or else she’ll pay the price for damaging designer goods. She couldn’t help but smile evilly at his drenched figure. He was wearing an all-white outfit and she felt satisfied knowing it has turned into a brown mess.

She might be celebrating a small victory now, but Johnny won’t let her get away with it.

He swore as well that he would make Essie’s life a living hell.

\\\

Unfortunately, they worked with each other again. And again. Even Essie’s side projects with her friends in the creative industry.

Johnny was always the available model who was game to do experimental shoots.

The two tried their best to downplay their pranks – Essie once poked him a couple of times with safety pins as she adjusted the excess fabric of his clothes. He wouldn’t stay put, which made her more intent to push the pins deeper into his skin.

“Don’t you even dare try, you cocky bastard,” she grumbled, purposely poking his sides with the pin.

“I could file a complaint against you,” he whispered in her ear, making the hairs behind her neck stand. He was dangerously close to her, and she noticed that he was about to wrap an arm around her waist.

“You think I’m scared? I’m not,” She gently pushed him away from her as she locked the pin in place.

“I’ll make you,” he responded, gripping her arm. “But now, I won’t because I look good in this outfit you picked.” He admired the work she did in front of the full-length mirror and she rolled her eyes in response.

There was a time that Johnny always set the cable of one of the camera lights for Essie to trip on. He would deliberately stretch his legs to do so or even use his hand to place it to where she’ll be coming from.

The girl tripped a couple of times and didn’t mind it at first. But when she noticed him sniggering after her fifth trip, that’s when she realized he was behind this. Essie stormed towards him and glared daggers at him.

“You think this is funny, Suh?” she muttered, folding her arms over her chest. He nodded, trying his best not to laugh. “You’re such an immature brat,” were the last words she said before she walked over the cable and glared at him once again.

\\\

Over time, Essie and Johnny decided to call their feud a truce. It took some mental toll on the girl to prank him. She was already tired from the demands of her job and she had to think of ways on how to make his life as miserable as she could.

The same could be said for him – he was getting more projects now that he has become popular. In fact, he is slowly dabbling into the entertainment industry as a budding actor.

Since both of them were close to her friends in the industry, they met each other again for dinner.

It was during this moment that they got to know each other better – they were so similar that their friends thought they were perfect for each other.

“I think you two should date,” Kibum, a fashion stylist, suggested. “As much as it pains me to admit this, but yes, you two should definitely go out,” Ten, a jewelry designer, agreed.

Ten and Johnny were the closest in the group and sometimes Essie teased them about their skinship.

The two subjects looked at each other disbelievingly before bursting into laughter.

“Seriously guys?” Johnny and Essie asked the people on their table, who nodded in unison.

Eventually, they would eat their words after a heated argument on another shoot.

“You are so annoying, Suh! Why can’t you just give me the respect I deserve?” Essie was on the verge of tears, frustrated at how uncooperative Johnny was on set.

It felt like they were back to square one. The 6-footer would boss her around and give mean comments about the outfits that she chose. “I look like a firefighter in that, and I mean that in a bad way,” he wrinkled his nose in disgust at the red and yellow outfit she chose.

“That was the instruction from the style sheet, dude. Get over it. You’ve worn much weirder things than this,” Essie was losing her patience as she shoved the outfit in his hands.

“But you could’ve done better,” he said matter-of-factly, gazing into her brown eyes. “You’re already known for your work but you settled for this mediocrity,” Johnny eyed the outfit in disgust.

“Ugh! I’ve had it with you!” The girl screamed, earning the looks of the crew as she exited the studio.

She thought they were already on good terms. They’ve been hanging out a lot more after work – opting to watch the last showing of movies, drinking coffee at 3 in the morning, and even driving around until the wee hours of the morning while listening to the latest album releases.

Essie felt her heart ache when he treated her like a slave again. The tears rolled down her cheeks and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. She had the urge to smoke but remembered that her kit was inside her bag.

She was about to return to the studio but he was already there, looking apologetic.

“What do you want, Suh?” She asked harshly, not looking at his face.

“Hey, I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” he started, walking closer to her. She saw his feet approach her and before she could back away, he already held her wrists.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, but I mean it when I said that you could’ve done better.”

She looked at him with all the rage she could muster, even if tears were threatening to spill on her face again.

“Why can’t you just say it like a normal person?” Essie was already sniffing.

“Because it is never simple with us,” he said softly, now leaning closer to her face. “We always complicate things even if we shouldn’t.”

“Then why don’t we just–––” She was cut off when he kissed her.

Time slowed as they kissed under the starry sky. It wasn’t as romantic as Essie wanted it to be – they were outside the studio where the air was polluted with smoke and rubbish was almost everywhere.

When they broke apart, Johnny pulled her closer to him. “Let’s just simplify things. I’ve been attracted to you from the start, Ms. Park,” he said, tilting her chin so she could look at him.

“You stole the words right out of my mouth, Mr. Suh,” she replied, a grin spreading across her face. “But not the attraction part. I thought you were a big piece of poo,” she stuck out her tongue at him and he pinched her side in response.

“I admit that seeing you mad was cute but not all the time. You can be scary too, you know,” he said, looping both arms around her waist.

“Well duh! Is there anyone who isn’t scary when they’re mad?”

Johnny just laughed and squeezed her. “I just want us to be together. Our friends were right – we are perfect for each other,” he looked down on her with the gentlest smile on his face.

Essie felt her cheeks flush and looked away from him. “So what are you going to do about this?”

“I’m going to tell everyone that we’re dating now.” With those words, he led her back into the studio and announced to everyone that they were dating.

The crew was overjoyed when they heard this – one of them screamed ‘Finally!’ with all his might. Essie’s boss ordered a giant pizza enough to feed them for days and the photographer got three cases of beer.

It may seem like another day in the life of a fashion editor and a model wrapping up another all-nighter shoot, but for Johnny and Essie, today was the day they finally came to their senses and became the most adorable (if not sometimes obnoxious) couple the world has ever seen.

–––

FIN

#nct drabbles #nct scenarios #johnny drabbles #nct 127 fanfic #nct johnny #nct fluff #nct au #johnny suh fluff #johnny suh #johnny imagines #johnny scenarios #johnny suh scenarios #johnny suh fanfiction #johnny suh au

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lemonsandstrawberries · 5 years ago

Text

Ex-husband, part 2

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), with a side of Winterfalcon (Bucky x Sam), AU

summary: Steve and Tony met for their 'date' and it turns out that it was a very bad idea.

length: 3 525 words

disclaimer: fic belongs into the chubby!Tony category

a/n: this gets a little dramatic, but what is life without some drama, right? hope you like it! feedback, reblogs, likes are needed and appreciated!

—————

Ex-husband, part 2

Steve stood in front of the mirror, eyeing himself critically. He had a very important decision to make and it was boggling his mind.

Paraphrasing the great writer - to shave or not to shave?

Pro shave. It was the morning of his 'date' with Tony and during their dating and married time, Steve always had shaved, maybe not counting the very lazy days, when he grew a light stubble, but never had the full, thick beard look like he had now. Tony knew his smooth face and Steve remembered the way Tony's warm fingers used to trace his jawline, the feeling of his ex-husband's scratchy goatee, but scratchy in a pleasant way as Tony used some mysterious mix of oils on his precious goatee to keep the hair healthy and soft, pressed to his cheek in a kiss. He almost wondered off, also remembering Tony's soft body pressed to him, legs tangling together, hips moving in the same rhythm -

Dammit, focus, Rogers.

Con shave. He didn't want Tony to think that he was trying too hard. He had already forced himself on Tony and insisted on a meeting, against all common sense. When he thought about it, he didn't even know what this meeting was going to be - a date was too big of a word, a casual get together was too vague and didn't give proper credit to their shared history. Steve just really wanted this. Not to move on, just to feel complete again. He knew had ruined their marriage and it was not coming back, too many arguments and harsh words instead of soft voices and warm embraces spoiling something that once was so good and felt so natural. He would give anything to get this feeling back, even just for a minute.

Including his beard.

But then again, he didn't want Tony to get a wrong impression.

Ultimately, Steve decided to leave the beard. He tugged on his hair, which during the past six months grew to his chin, falling in straight strands and framing his face. Maybe if he hurried, he could get a hair cut and -

The alarm going on in his phone, made Steve jump up. One hour. One hour before Tony would see him and he had spent a large part of his morning contemplating if he needed a shave or not. He was supposed to leave at this time to not keep Tony waiting. He made a frantic move to bolt out of the bathroom and get changed, at least he had chosen his clothes day earlier, but the sight of the shower caught his attention. Yeah, he was in desperate need of a shower.

***

Steve didn't arrive early as he had in his habit, thank God, he wasn't late either, fearing that Tony might wander off thinking that he was stood up, he was exactly on time. Which probably was also weird and not like him. What was even weirder was that his ex-husband was already sitting in the cafeteria patio, legs crossed gently and sunglasses on his nose, as he was looking off somewhere, lost in his thought, the sunlight playing in his brown hair and giving it soft caramel reflexes. Tony was wearing a grey suit and a t-shirt with a band logo, giving the almost formal look a casual appearance, and Steve felt like an idiot in his three-button dark blue henley shirt (unbuttoned, of course) and washed-out jeans, a black belt holding jeans in place. Tony just looked effortlessly pretty and Steve was trying way too hard.

When Tony turned his face to him, Steve's heart did a little flip. Tony smiled, but because of the sunglasses, Steve didn't know if the smile reached his eyes and raised his hand up, bringing Steve's attention to him. Steve mirrored the gesture, not able to control his own smile, and made it through the other patrons, Tony standing up from his seat to properly greet him.

That wasn't awkward at all when Tony went for a handshake, and Steve, carried on the moment, leaned in to kiss Tony on the cheek for hello. Not awkward at all. In the end, Tony decided to roll with it and let Steve lean in fully, allowing the small peck land on his warm cheek. That made Steve want the ground to open and swallow him, but it was not the time for self-loathing.

"So, how you have been doing?" Steve asked, sitting down on the folding chair, trying to sound suave and casual. It was the moment when he had realized that Tony chose a different table, not the usual one they always had, tucked away in a private corner, near a wall with green leaves climbing up, hiding them from the rest of the world. He tried to subtly look in that direction and saw that their spot was empty so Tony chose this new place deliberately, in the middle of the patio, among people.

"Uh, since yesterday? Not much changed," Tony replied, a small, snarky smile playing at the corner of his lips.

That coupled with the sudden realization about abandoning their spot had dampened the mood. Steve was never good at small talk. It was Tony's forte, his ex-husband was charming and had his way with the words, while Steve was more of a straight to the point guy. Steve had no sunglasses to hide his eyes behind and Tony had to notice the hurt look passing through the blue eyes, because the next second his body became less tense and he took the sunglasses off, hanging them on top of his shirt.

"I am fine, Steve," Tony said, almost sounding sorry for coming of hostile. "You?"

Steve needed a second to process that question, his heart thumping behind his chest while Tony's warm brown eyes were focused on him. Never before Tony and never after him, Steve had met anyone with such expressive, shiny eyes. He could always tell Tony's mood by his eyes. The happy sparkle whenever Steve made him laugh, the soft look during cuddling, the heat and passion during their intimate moments. He missed seeing those eyes as the first thing in the morning and the last in the evening.

"I am fine too," Steve answered, his voice sounding dry. "Um, are those the clothes you bought yesterday?" Steve asked, just to show that he wasn't that pathetic and was able to carry on a conversation when he made a fatal mistake and looked down Tony's body, his eyes stopping on his midriff. There was a little roundness in that area, the shirt hugging it snugly and accenting what Tony was hoping to mask with the dark material. His eyes lingered there for a few seconds too long to brush it off as a casual look, but Steve couldn't keep his eyes off, feeling some hot feeling stirring in him, something he thought was gone a long time ago.

Tony coughed and shifted in his seat, putting his elbows on the table and leaning in to hide. "Yeah, yeah, they are."

It was rude to stare, Rogers. Steve looked back at Tony's face. Slightly rounder, fuller cheeks, but still breathtakingly handsome, if not more.

"They look good on you," Steve said truthfully, and there it was. First doubt, then hesitation, and finally hurt, all reflected in the brown eyes. "You always had a great sense of style," Steve continued, trying to get Tony's mind off the obvious.

Tony seemed a little placated by that and gave a small giggle, beautiful and high pitched and awkward and wonderful. "I am glad it had rubbed off on you," he laughed, pointing in Steve's general direction, "you finally traded your khakis and plaid shirts for something fetching."

"Oh, come on," Steve said with an easy smile, taking the jab like a pro, "it was comfortable."

Tony kept the smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners and sparkling in an amused way. This suited him so much more and it made Steve's heart grow until he realized that once he was the reason the brown eyes filled with tears.

"Here is your order."

A blond, smiley waitress showed up from nowhere, holding a tray in one arm.

"Thank you," Tony smiled at her, when she settled a cup of coffee in front of him, two packets of sugar on the side and an orange juice in front of Steve. "You don't mind I ordered for you too, right?"

"Actually, could I see the menu?" Steve asked the waitress and she nodded and walked away, while Steve turned back to Tony with a smile. "I didn't have time to eat breakfast today."

"You didn't?" Tony asked, reaching for his coffee and his hand stopping halfway out of shock. Steve had pretty adamant rules and a precise morning routine, one that always included a healthy portion of oatmeal with sliced banana and raisins, maybe a breakfast muffin on the days he was in hurry and bacon and eggs on the lazy mornings, but breakfast was always a must and Steve never skipped it. "I don't recognize you, Steve," Tony teased, giving another playful jab, Steve was happy to receive.

Soon enough the smiley waitress brought the menu and Steve placed an order and Tony asked for a glass of sparkling water and a lemon wedge. That made Steve curious.

"You are not eating?" Steve asked, and Tony wrinkled his nose.

"Nah, I am good. Had a big breakfast," Tony replied, trying to sound casual. Steve nodded, wishing to believe that. He already knew that tone of voice, hearing it many times during the days when Tony's work was catching up on him and break for food was not an option. Steve felt it wasn't his place on lecturing Tony about healthy eating habits and that regular meals could actually help him lose the weight he seemed bothered with more efficiently than denying himself food. He had lost the right to say such things when he had signed the divorce papers.

"This should be punishable," Tony narrowed his eyes when the waitress had brought Steve's meal and his water, and Steve eagerly cut into the steak. Well done. "This poor cow didn't die for this."

"Hey, it is good," Steve grinned, cutting the piece of meat and sticking on the fork. Roasted potatoes, garden salad, and a steak. Typical early lunch.

"I almost forgot that you like your meat though as cardboard," Tony griped, sipping on his water. Everyone knew that the best way to cook steak was medium rare when the meat was still tender and juicy and melting, but not many knew that the best technique was reverse seared. By the crust on the meat, Tony could already tell if it was reverse-seared or pan-seared and Steve's steak was obviously pan-seared, which wasn't bad but was kept in the pan for way too long to reach Steve's preferred well-done degree of doneness.

Steve chewed on his steak, thinking that the steak was good, but he would rather bite into something else, something that was nice and juicy and warm and sitting in front of him. He didn't voice his thoughts and just cut off another piece.

"So. Are you still teaching?" Tony asked, giving Steve plenty of time to chew but also trying to engage him in a conversation.

"Nah, I quit, I am between jobs," Steve said lightly using the nice word for being jobless, pausing at Tony's terrified look. "It is fine," Steve assured with a smile. Since the divorce, Steve couldn't focus on anything and lost his drive. He had quitted with a heavy heart, but felt that it would be the best for him and his students, had some savings and while he didn't live a life of luxury it was enough to keep him afloat. "I actually got a few job offers, just testing the market," Steve joked, meaning the parents of the kids he had taught beating down his door to sign their kids for private lessons - Steve was good at his job as an art teacher and kids loved him, and all of his students managed to get into the best art schools. While Steve didn't feel like going back to public schools, maybe private tutoring would be the answer.

"I see," Tony nodded, rubbing his chin. He was self-employed, build his company from a scratch and couldn't imagine being in Steve's situation who seemed so at ease. It was another reason they argued so much, Tony was never able to fully cut off from work, while Steve had clear boundaries, and their first shared vacation ended in a massive quarrel after a couple of blissful days. "I am glad this suits you," Tony said, not urging Steve to changes, knowing that it wasn't his place.

"Thanks," Steve smiled, finishing his lunch, while the conversation between them became so easy and natural, almost as if they never broke up. Steve continued to talk and joke, and take in Tony's smile until his plate became empty, marking the end of their meeting. And Steve was desperate to keep Tony for a bit longer. "Hey, I think I saw chocolate fudge cake on the special's board outside the cafe, do you want a slice?" Steve asked, putting his fork and knife down.

Tony looked away, curling a bit in himself. "No, thanks," he said and his voice sounded small, the confidence he had in himself a minute ago already gone.

Steve blinked in shock. Okay, he could understand Tony not wanting a proper meal, but the Tony he knew, never refused desserts, especially ones dripping with chocolate.

"Uhm, that's new," Steve laughed a bit, trying to bring the happy atmosphere back. "You always loved desserts. You even had this rule, that if a restaurant doesn't serve desserts, you won't be eating there."

"I guess, people, change," Tony answered in a deep sigh, and Steve didn't notice the warning undertone the words had.

"What was the other rule?" Steve asked himself, falling back into comfortable memories and not noticing the alarm signals. "Ah, yeah, remember when we went to that hipster coffee place and the waitress asked you if we want to order mini cheesecakes for dessert? Man, I thought you would flip a table back then. I guess this is also the reason why on Halloween you always give the kids full-size candy bars-"

Tony clearly didn't want to listen to any more of the story, his jaws clenching nervously. "I should go," Tony said in a cold and firm voice and pushed his chair to the back, reaching for his wallet to pay for his coffee and water. It suddenly became so tense and nervous, Steve started to panic.

"Wait, Tony, was it something I said - "

"This was a mistake, Steve," Tony said, a shaking hand dropping some bills on the table between them. "Look, I am happy for you and I wish you well, but for me - for us, we can't meet again," Tony added, his nose scrunching in a sniffle that hinted on an upcoming crying wave after the anger was gone.

Steve immediately felt like breaking into pieces. He did it again. He got a second chance to fix things with Tony and he was blowing it again. Steve bit his tongue, almost letting a comforting 'sweetheart' slip out from his lips, but he couldn't stop the long-forgotten gestures and reached for Tony's hand, putting his hand on Tony's shaky wrist. Tony's whole body tensed but he didn't move away, not daring to look at Steve.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up," Steve said quietly, holding Tony's wrist firmer, grounding him back in the moment instead of their shared, carefree memories when both were so happy, "Stay. Please," Steve continued. The memory of the last day he had seen Tony, the day they both signed the divorce papers was still fresh in his mind, the way Tony couldn't bear to look at him, and the cold and empty feeling of that day still haunting him. There was probably no divorce that ended on good terms, but if this was supposed to be their last meeting, Steve didn't want Tony to rush out, wounds they both worked so hard to patch up, opening again.

Tony didn't answer. Somehow he lied to himself that meeting with his ex would be cathartic. It wasn't. They were venturing into very dangerous territory and Tony was afraid that there was no going back.

With time, Steve moved his hand away, reading Tony's silence as a signal to leave. There was nothing more to save here. Slowly, Steve stood up, understanding that it was over.

"Steve," Tony finally spoke, his voice shaking with emotions, "don't go," he said, not really knowing why, and Steve nearly didn't hear him among the usual cafeteria chatter. There was something hidden in the voice, some longing and a whole lot of heartbreak. "I don't want you to go. I never wanted you to go," Tony admitted, his voice breaking. He brought his hand up and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to hide the building up tears.

Steve stood there, his body frozen, while a million thoughts were racing in his mind. Tony was crying. He made Tony cry. He did this. It was a desperate need to reach out, to wrap arms around his husband and tell him, that he wasn't going anywhere, that he would stay this time, not take the keys to his bike and ride around New York for the whole night without a cause, just letting the anger leave him.

The truth hit Steve hard. Did he just call Tony his husband again?

A tearful sob shook him a little. Tony was standing in front of him, shoulders shaking with every ragged breath. It was a miserable sight and Steve was going crazy with an overwhelming need to soothe his ex-husband, to ease his pain and to kiss the doubts away.

The place was getting crowded for lunch and Steve didn't feel like staying anymore, not when he and Tony started to open up.

"Let's go for a walk," Steve decided for both of them, hurriedly leaving money for his part of the bill. He reached for Tony's hand and walked out, his heart beating a happy melody when Tony followed.

They didn't talk. Just kept walking at a slow pace, Steve thinking that it would be best to let Tony's emotions cool down instead of trying to pry. They didn't walk far, when Tony abruptly stopped, Steve's hand almost breaking the hold, when Tony held him back, interlacing their fingers. Steve didn't understand why they stopped until he saw in front of what building they were standing.

"Tony… Are you sure?" Steve asked softly.

"This won't mean anything, got it?" Tony said in a shaking voice, needing to make it clear from the start.

With the highest effort, Steve had to stop himself from smiling, a hopeful feeling rising in him. It was fine, right? They both were adults and adult people slept with each other, no strings attached. Heck, adult people hooked up with their exes all the time, just for old time's sake, right? It was just what Tony and Steve were about to do.

"Got it," Steve confirmed.

They both entered the hotel, well aware that it was a lie and it meant everything.

***

"Steve, you moron, pick up your phone," Bucky seethed, trying to reach Steve's mobile, time after time, not having any luck and being sent to voice mail straight away. Since yesterday, since Steve was his ex-husbands at the store and ran out after him, coming back with a dopey, elated smile, Bucky had a bad feeling, despite Steve assuring him that everything was fine. Steve not picking up his phone, was just confirming it. Time for plan B. Bucky made sure that Sam was still in the kitchen, preparing lunch when he sneaked into their bedroom and unplugged Sam's phone from the charger. He dialed the number of the last person he wished to ask for help, but drastic times call for drastic measures.

"It is not Sam, it is me. Don't hang up! Do you know where Tony is? Are you sure? I can't reach Steve. Yeah. I think so. Woah, you kiss your mom with that mouth? Hey, I don't like this situation as much as you - yeah, I will check there. I am going to call you from my regular number next time, so you better pick it up," Bucky said and hung up. He plugged the phone back in and went to the corridor to grab his jacket and shoes.

"Babe! I need to go out for a minute!"

"What? Where? Lunch is almost done!"

"Will be back soon, love you!"

"James, what the hell - " but Sam already heard the door close. Sam just grunted to himself, lowering the heat under the pot with stew to keep it warm and wait for his husband to come back.

-----

<--- previous chapter --- next chapter --->

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #SUPERHUSBANDS #chubby!tony #weight acceptance #body acceptance #winterfalcon #Bucky Barnes #sam wilson #james rhodey rhodes #tony and rhodey brootp #steve and bucky brootp #fanfiction #fanfic #no tickling

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istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 6 years ago

Text

Got Your Nose

anonymous said: Hi there!! Could you do an AU Roger Tayor fanfiction where he is a single dad and he meets the reader and really likes her and finally introduces her to his kid and she is so sweet with them and then eventually the kid ends up calling her mommy and just cute af fluff please and thank you??

(a/n: i’m so sorry i had to make the kid a girl. Imagining roger w a little girl just spoiling the shit out of her made my anti-kid heart swell a little bit. gif credit to @imladrs hehe ok time 2 code a website for class before it’s due woops)

“A surprise?! A puppy!”

“It’s not a puppy, sweetheart, it’s something better!” you heard Roger explain from the other side of the door, and you had to giggle as you listened for Camellia’s sweet little voice.

“Better than a puppy?” the young girl asked in disbelief, a small bit of attitude in her tone as you heard Roger laugh and walk towards the door. Suddenly, you were extremely nervous about all of this. It didn’t help that as they got to the door, Cam exclaimed, “Daddy, nothing is better than a puppy.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Roger dismissed teasingly, and you heard him pick up his daughter, making her squeal in delight. “Up you go, lovie. Are you ready?”

This was it. You felt your heart pounding in your chest as the front door unlocked, and you briefly imagined the worst case scenarios – Cam takes one look at you, decides you’re not interesting, and asks where the puppy is. Or she doesn’t even acknowledge you, or worse – she does, but she says she doesn’t like you.

Swallowing hard, you put on a smile as the door swung open. There was Roger, dressed to the nines in a simple t-shirt and track pants. His short but slightly curly hair was sleep-worn, and he looked very much like a dad today, which was not at all what he usually looked like. It was like seeing him again for the first time.

You remembered when you’d seen him for the first time. They were recording The Game in Munich, where you were visiting family, and you’d run into him by chance at a record store one afternoon. You were perusing the selections when you’d picked up an old Queen album, and a man nearby had scoffed at your selection – or so you’d thought.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, curiously watching the blonde who was standing around four feet away, holding a Jimi Hendrix vinyl. “Queen not your cup of tea?”

The man’s eyes were obscured behind dark sunglasses, unreadable – he didn’t remotely look like the last time you’d seen a picture of Roger Taylor, so it was no wonder you didn’t recognize him. You were admittedly a bit out of the loop, so the last time you’d seen a picture of the man in passing was years ago, and he was sporting a long, shaggy haircut and a lighter, bohemian-esque fit. This man was in a leather jacket and black tshirt, with a chunky chain necklace to match the wallet chain that was hanging from the belt loop on his jeans. His wavy blonde hair was cropped to a medium-short length, and it was unbelievably messy. There was an innocent look to his face, but a small smirk played at the corner of his mouth, as if he knew more than he let on.

“Oh, Queen?” he said, and you marveled at the Anglo-Cornish accent that pervaded the surprisingly mellow voice of someone who looked like they’d just stepped out of a Black Sabbath concert. “They’re all a bunch of cock-stars, really.”

“Ah.” You looked at the Queen II album cover in your hand, pointing to the one on the left (which you later found out was John) and looking at the man again. “He looks like a nice chap. Not bad looking either.”

“Oh, he might be the worst of them all,” he quickly replied, an impish grin sneaking its way onto his lips. “I’ve met them all. They’re insufferable. Don’t waste your time on them, gorgeous.”

“Really?” you asked, intrigued now and mainly ignoring his come-on. Although you weren’t sure whether you should trust a stranger’s word that they’d met such a big band, anything was possible. After all, you’d heard they were recording in the area. “Honestly? I don’t really know any of them. Usually don’t listen to this type of music.”

The toothy grin on his face was practically cracking his cheeks by this point, and you tried not to be too unnerved by this giddiness as he spoke. “The lead singer is a big drama queen, and that chap you pointed to? Right prick. Full of himself. The drummer might be the only one worse than him.” He chuckled, then shook his head and set the Hendrix album down, stepping just a foot or two closer and leaning against the stack of records next to him. “You said you don’t listen to this kind of music. What brings you over to this part of the store then?”

“Me?” you asked, almost confused that he was showing interest in your record selection. But you’d been chatted up in weirder places than a record store, so you played into it. “I usually listen to Stevie Wonder and the Commodores and Marvin Gaye, stuff like that. Just thought I’d change it up a bit, you know? I’m visiting an aunt here for a month or two since I just graduated uni, so I’ve got time out my arse for new music.”

“Uni? So you were a student. Where at?” he asked, moving his sunglasses to the top of his head. He had inquisitive eyes that were a shocking shade of blue, and he watched you patiently as he waited for an answer.

“London.”

“London, a lovely place. I’m actually from London myself, I’m also in the city visiting… What did you study at uni? Modeling?”

Scoffing at the notion, you were about to answer when a much taller man with a wild mop of brown curls approached the strange blonde from behind, clapping a hand to his shoulder and looking at you with curious eyes before looking down at the blonde. “Made a friend, Roger?” came the smooth, slightly lower voice of the second strange man, and you swore you’d seen his face before as he looked back to you again. After a quick glance at the album in your hand, he gave a quick chuckle and let go of Roger’s shoulder. “You going to buy that for her?”

“I was just telling her how the guitarist is a massive knobhead,” Roger replied teasingly, and you looked down to the album to be smacked across the face with the answer. The two men in front of you were right there, on the cover of Queen II, and you’d been sitting here like an idiot, not even realizing you were shooting the shit with one of the members of the band.

“Oh, eat a dick,” the man with curls laughed, shoving Roger’s head forward and grabbing the Hendrix album that he’d left sitting on top of other records. “Better have told her the drummer sucks something awful.”

A blush was quickly creeping up on your cheeks as you witnessed the interaction, not sure if you should apologize for not recognizing them or be thankful that he wasn’t offended. But Roger ended up being delighted to find a new Queen fan in you, and took down your number before he left with the man who introduced himself as Brian.

Roger ended up taking up most of your time in Munich after that, taking you all over the city on romantic dates, including a private boat ride up the river. Even once, he brought you by the studio for a brief visit when Freddie called him. You were ecstatic to see that side of the music industry, and you even got to meet John, who was amused to hear that you’d thought he looked nice on the cover of Queen II (Roger got an earful for that one later).

In fact, you spent so much time around him that you were upset when it was time for you to finally leave. But Roger promised he’d visit you as soon as they were done recording, and he did. He also said he had a surprise for you when he got back, and you were floored to find out what the surprise really was.

He had a 4 year old daughter from a previous relationship that he’d been dying to tell you about, and she was almost a carbon copy of him. Beautiful blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, and from what he’d told you, an attitude bigger than the Earth itself. But she was sweet as well, and she loved her dad dearly, just as much as he loved her.

“I want you to meet her,” he’d said one day, when you were both lounging on your bed back in London. He was playing with your hand, his head resting on your belly as he looked up at you.

“Meet Camellia?” You panicked a little, chewing on your lip as you ran a hand through his hair. This was a bit sudden for you, seeing as you’d only been involved together for around 3 to 4 months, but maybe he was just talking in the future. “When?”

“Tomorrow,” he answered quickly, an edge of excitement in his voice as he propped himself up on his elbows, one on either side of you. Oh, Jesus, tomorrow? “She’s itching to meet you. Ever since I showed her a picture of you on the river in Munich, she’s been wanting to meet ‘dad’s girly-friend.’”

You cooed softly, smiling as he crawled to hover over you, trapping you down to the bed. “But Rog, what if she ends up not liking me?” you worried, reaching up to brush a stray hair from his forehead before pressing your palm to his cheek. He smiled affectionately, then pressed a quick kiss to the inside of your hand before nuzzling it.

“She’ll adore you, promise.” He then kneeled between your legs, pressing his fists into the mattress as he carefully lowered himself so he was laying on top of you, resting his head on your chest. You shifted a bit so he rested between your legs better, then began to brush your fingers back through his hair and ponder the idea a bit.

“Is she not with her mom tomorrow?” you questioned, furrowing your eyebrows as you stared at the ceiling. You couldn’t really pinpoint why you felt so overwhelmed by the concept of meeting Cam – it was possible that it was mainly because you desperately wanted her acceptance. Roger had quickly become a fixture in your life, and you were pretty fond of him. It would be horrible if the number one girl in his life decided that she didn’t like number two, which was you. You couldn’t even let yourself make Roger choose between the two of you – you’d have to leave him, just to make Cam happy. That thought scared you a lot.

“No, I gave her the next few days off. I wanted to spend alone time with the little bugger.” You could feel the rumble of his chuckle against your chest, resounding deep into your heart, and you smiled a bit as you shook your head.

“Alone time?” you repeated, and Roger laughed at your not-so-subtle prying.

“Alone time with you included, of course.” You raised an eyebrow, and Roger looked up at you, grinning before moving back up to support himself on his elbows again, giving you a quick kiss. “Baby, I swear. She will love you. I might have to beg her to spend time with me at the end of the day.”

And that was that. You’d agreed to come over in the morning, and now here you were, a fatherly Roger holding an energetic and curious young girl on his shoulders. She was peeking down at you over her father’s head, and he gave you a wide smile before looking up at Cam.

“Cammy, this is the lady I’ve been telling you about. Y/N, come in!” he invited, opening the door wider and stepping to the side as Cam never took her eyes off you. She had a devilish grin, much like her dad, and you smiled right back as you stepped inside, looking around a bit at the unfamiliar den area. “It’s a bit of a mess, sorry. Cam here has been a whirlwind this morning.”

“Have not!” the 4 year-old protested, plugging Roger’s nose as an act of vengeance. “You’re a whirlywind,” she taunted back, wiggling his nose and making him laugh as he looked up at her.

“Help, don’t let her take my nose!” he cried out in a melodramatic (and nasally) voice, looking at you as Cam giggled in pure glee and pretended to snatch his nose before he sat her back down on the ground and held a hand over his face. “Oh no, don’t give it to Y/N, I’ll never see it again!”

The reverse psychology worked remarkably well, and she ran straight over to you, handing you the invisible nose before running off and shrieking. “Run! Run!” You were absolutely dumbfounded by how flawlessly he functioned as a dad, so you stood there, smiling in awe at him for a second before remembering your mission. Smiling sheepishly, you pretended to put the ‘nose’ in your back pocket, then took off after Cam.

Roger’s laughter echoed through the den as he jogged after you two, and you found Cam peeking out of the closet in the hallway, waiting for you to come in. When you did, she pulled the door shut with a little struggle, and then shushed you quickly as you two crouched in the semi-darkness. “Daddy will never find us in here.”

“Good thinking,” you whispered, watching Roger’s shadows shift by under the door as he called out your names. You feigned handing her the nose, which she accepted with both of her hands. “Where should we hide his nose?”

“Let’s run and hide it in the backyard on the count of three,” she whispered back, listening as Roger’s voice got farther away. “One, two.. three!”

You threw open the door and she ran out immediately, her long, thin blonde hair flying out behind her as she came face to face with Roger, who was hiding just around the corner. He picked her up quickly, tickling her and eliciting shrieks and giggles that made break out into laughter.

“Where’s it at? I’ll tickle you until you tell me!” he laughed, moving her to his side and attacking her tummy with relentless tickles as she squirmed and writhed with laughter.

“Y/N has it!” she gasped out between laughs, and your jaw dropped as you realized she was even more clever than you’d anticipated.

Letting Cam down gently to the floor, Roger watched as she took off again, and you shrugged as he walked over to you and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. “Good morning, love. Have you had breakfast yet?” His arms snaked around your waist, and he glanced behind him to make sure Cam wasn’t in sight before he stole another kiss, this one on the lips and far more eager than the last.

Pulling away before he got too into it, you smiled fondly and rested your hands on his chest, nodding. “I grabbed something on the way here, had to calm my nerves.”

“Nerves? Over her?” he gently teased, squeezing your waist and making you roll your eyes playfully. “Isn’t she a little spitfire? I’ve been chasing her all morning. Can’t wait for her to pass out in a few hours.”

“She is, she is,” you agreed, kissing him one last time before reaching behind you to take his hands and unwrap them from around you. He pouted a bit, but didn’t have time to complain, for Cam came back around the corner with a new game already in mind.

You spent the rest of the morning entertaining her and all her wild ideas. When she finally got sleepy just after lunch, Roger was more than happy to tuck her in for a nap. He quickly roped you into a cuddle session on the large recliner in his living room as soon as she was out, and you found yourself wrapped up in his toned, slim arms, your legs weaved together as you both talked about your first impressions.

“She’s so smart, like unbelievably clever.” Roger yawned a bit, stretching before wrapping his arms back around you and grinning, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.

He looked adorably sleepy, and his eyelids fluttered closed as he mumbled, “Don’t know where in the hell she got that from, because her mother’s no genius.”

“Roger, be nice!” you scolded quietly, Roger snickering to himself as he pulled you closer and buried his face in your neck. “She’s a brainiac, just like her dad.” Roger smiled against your neck, but only made a sleepy noise of contentment in response. Admittedly, you were getting a bit tired too, and cuddly Roger wasn’t helping as you felt yourself being lulled off to sleep quickly. “What if she wakes up while we’re still asleep?” you murmured, closing your eyes as you cuddled closer, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Trust me, she’ll get us up,” he muttered, and you wondered what in the hell that was supposed to mean before you quickly drifted off to sleep, content and warm in Roger’s embrace.

You found out what that meant. You were quickly jolted out of your sleep not even an hour later as Camellia pounced on the both of you, garnering a quick yelp from you and a groan from Roger as you both stirred and blinked sleepily. “Naptime’s over, let’s play house!”

This day quickly became a routine in the months that post-production of Queen’s album neared its close. When work would allow it, you’d find yourself over at his place, spending the day with him and Cam. She quickly grew attached to you, and Roger always told you how she lamented over your absence whenever you couldn’t make it. In fact, she had gotten so used to you being around that she’d accidentally let the M word slip one day, closer to Roger’s time to leave for tour.

“Daddy, no boys allowed!” Cam sassed, trying to shut the door to her bedroom as Roger peeked in at the two of you playing with her dolls. You were cross-legged near her dollhouse, and you raised an eyebrow before sticking your tongue out at Roger playfully. That got a laugh out of him, and he fought back to keep the door open just enough for his head to poke through as he begged Cam to let him in.

“Go away, boys have cooties!” you teased, and Roger shot you a devilish look as you grinned innocently and waved at him.

“Yeah, leave mum and I alone!” Cam added, and that brought you to a full stop as Roger’s face quickly softened. He looked at you with an apologetic look, but you felt a slow smile creep onto your face. If she thought of you as that important of a person in her life, you were more than okay with that. Sure, you weren’t anywhere near ready to be a mom, but the fact that she trusted and respected you enough to call you mom thrilled you.

Relief washed over his face as he realized you weren’t alarmed, but relief quickly turned to pain as he forgot to fight back against Cam’s incessant pushing on the door. His head was briefly squeezed between the door and the doorframe, and you couldn’t help but laugh as Cam giggled evilly at the look on his face.

Giving you a quick glance, he pouted, but there was an almost imperceptible smile hinting at the corner of his lips as he retreated. You watched fondly as he waved at Cam, who was peeking at him through the doorway, and she waved back before quickly shutting the door and starting to walk back over to you.

“Pysch!” Roger yelled not even five seconds later, opening the door and forcing his way into the room as Cam whirled around and immediately jumped on him. You laughed as he pretended to fall to the floor from her attack, letting her quickly take over the wrestling match.

Crawling over to where they were, you watched curiously as Roger whispered something in Cam’s ear. What were they planning, the little shits? You received a trademark devilish grin from the both of them suddenly, and you had no time to react before you were quickly overwhelmed, Cam shouting in glee as she tickled you and Roger held your hands above your head. “Get ‘er, Cammy! Don’t stop till she’s cryin’ for mercy!”

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#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #dad!roger taylor #dad!roger #queen imagine #roger taylor au #i named her cammy bc i love camellia flowers thank u #REQUESTS OPEN

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96percentdone · 6 years ago

Text

The Moonlit Prince and the Lying Thief (Part 4)

@oumasaiweek I’m a day late I’m so sorry! I couldn’t finish this chapter on time yesterday I got burnt out and it hit like 3am and I was dying inside. I’ll try my best to keep the daily schedule from here on out though!

But Happy birthday Ouma! This is the fourth entry in a series. If you’re interested, go on my blog and check the tag v3 tangled AU. Thanks!

“I have so many regrets,” Shuuichi groans, voice muffled. His face is starting to hurt a little from the way he flopped right on top of a hedge, leaves and twigs poking and digging into his cheeks, but the darkness the bush provides matches his emotional state, so he stays. If Tsumugi ever found out about this she would be so hurt. He’d never earn her trust back. She’d probably punish him for years, and he’d deserve it. “Why did I do this.”

“Beats me.” Doukeshi leans on a nearby tree, tossing a grey stone up and down. At this rate this side-quest of his will be over sooner than he thought. “Guess you can’t handle this after all, huh?”

“I can do it!” Shuuichi jumps back up, determination in his stance. “It’ll be fine! She’ll just never find out!”

“She?”

“My aunt.” And with that Shuuichi whines again, and falls back to sitting on the floor. “She’ll totally find out…” He’s in so much trouble if he does this. If he goes back right now, he can probably dodge it, right? He’ll tell her he jumped out the window, regretted it, and ran right back in. Does he leave the thief part in?

“You could just lie.” Doukeshi points out. Lying has gotten him out of so many conundrums. There seems to be just a whole lot of backstory here, and while he’s curious, he’s not planning on diving into it. He just wants to get this over with as soon as possible, so he can go home.

“I can’t just lie to her! She’d find me out, and it’d be wrong.” Never mind that Shuuichi is a poor liar, but to betray and then deceive her? No, absolutely not. He needs to just tell the truth, and go back, and this whole thing was a mistake. “I’m going back.”

“Suit yourself.” Doukeshi keeps tossing that rock, staring blankly up at the sky. “Toss me my satchel while you’re up there, will ya?”

“No!” At that, Shuuichi bolts up, and starts marching away from the tower. “We’re not doing that. I’m—I’m going to see those lanterns. You’re not getting out of it that easily.”

“Okay~” Tossing the rock aside, Doukeshi strolls along behind him. He doesn’t point out that this is the wrong direction, just watches as Shuuichi walks several more feet and abruptly stopping.

“I don’t know which way we’re supposed to go,” Shuuichi says, and Doukeshi can’t stifle his snorting, which earns him an embarrassed glare. “Very funny. Lead the way.”

“As you wish, detective-chan.”

They don’t get very far, maybe another few feet, before something rustles nearby. “What was that?” Shuuichi asks, eyes darting around before landing on the bush up ahead.

“I dunno.” Doukeshi shrugs. “Bandits?”

“Bandits?!” The rustling continues. Frying pan armed in sweaty hands, he freezes, eyes glued to the bush.

“Thugs?” Realizing that Shuuichi stopped moving, Doukeshi turns around.

“Thugs?!” Shuuichi takes a small step backward, eyes never leaving the bush.

“Axe murderers?”

“Mur—murderers?”

Something jumps out of the bush, and Shuuichi finds himself hovering behind the thief. After a few seconds, he peers over Doukeshi’s smaller, vest clad shoulder, to see—“It’s just a rabbit.” Small, and furry, and brown. Oh. That…that’s perfectly normal and harmless. He puts the frying pan away.

“You do know we’re outside, right?” Doukeshi asks, glancing behind him, and they both resume walking. “Maybe you can’t handle this.”

“I’ll be fine!” Of course, he knows that. He knows about animals too, but there’s so many other things out here besides just those. Even so, “It was just because you scared me.”

“Nishishi~ Sorry! I can’t help myself!” So Shuuichi is easily scared, huh? Maybe that works in his favor. They only just started but it might be time for a small detour. “Hey, you hungry? Cause I seriously need something to eat!”

“Um, sure.” Beyond the cave, there’s a seemingly endless array of trees. Every tree passed takes Shuuichi one step closer to his dream.

Tsumugi stops in her tracks, scanning the forest for the seventh time in the past half hour. There’s something off about these woods. She’s never been truly alone here—there’s that tavern on the way to town, and there’s always been the occasional child playing dangerous games—but there’s too many people out today. What happened?

The sound of hooves galloping across dirt approaches from behind, and on instinct she hides behind a large maple tree. Citizen? Or worse? A black mare flies past her. Tsumugi only manages to get a brief glimpse at the woman riding it, but the shining chestplate tells all. “No.”

What is a royal guard doing out this deep in her woods? The crown was stolen by someone, but if they’re this far in, they might find him! The trees blur together as she tears through the woods, knocking aside any stray branches or vines in her way. She has to go back. She has to go back!

There it is. The tower. “Shuuichi?” No response. “Shuuichi, let down your hair!” Still nothing. Where is he? Did they find him? She needs to get inside now. Wrenching away at the stones that make up the backside of the tower reveals a hidden stairwell. As soon as there’s enough space for her to crawl through, she does, sprinting up the stairs.

But there’s no one in the main room. “Shuuichi?” And there’s no one in his room. “This just plain isn’t funny!” And there’s no one in her room. No matter where she looks, there’s no sign of silver anywhere in the dark tower. She’s alone.

The noon sun shines through the window, and something shimmers under the stairs to her missing “nephew’s” room. What is that? Pulling the stair reveals a bag containing the stolen crown. But that’s not all. Slowly, Tsumugi pulls out a mask, black and red and resembling a joker’s hat. So Doukeshi took Shuuichi away.

Opening a nearby drawer reveals a glimmering dagger. She’ll find him. She’ll find them both.

“To your right, as previously stated, is more trees,” Shuuichi rolls his eyes as Doukeshi narrates their same-y surroundings. He’s been doing this for at least 20 minutes now, for reasons Shuuichi can’t understand. “But to your left is, voila!” With a grand gesture, the thief showcases a quiet trail that leads to a small building. “Our destination, Saishuu Tavern.”

“Final Tavern…?” What an ominous name. “What happened to the other taverns?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh?” What does he mean by that? Did something happen? What could have possibly—“Are you messing with me again?”

“Nishishi~ You make it so easy.” Doukeshi pushes and holds the door open as Shuuichi makes a whining noise in response. “After you.”

“Thank…you…” Shuuichi trails off upon seeing the interior of the pub. It’s…a lot to process. There’s a hodgepodge of stuff furnishing the somewhat-circular room. Some of it is innocent (a portrait or two, a piano), some of it is strange (the steering wheel of a boat, a racket), and some of it…terrifying. The array of knives and spears, a taxidermy deer head, a guillotine, and god there are just so many people. All their eyes are on him. Shuuichi freezes in place.

Except they’re not on him, but on the purple vested man behind him. “Doesn’t that gremlin by the door look familiar to anyone?” Miu wipes her messy blond hair away from her goggles and squints.

“Hmm…Tenko agrees, but she just can’t quite place it,” says Tenko, walking up past Shuuichi to Doukeshi. He’s just glad a woman that buff doesn’t have those threatening eyes on him.

“Who, me? Nah, I’m no one,” Doukeshi waves her off, strolling into the tavern without worry. He takes a seat in a nearby rickety wooden chair. “Sides I think my partner here is the weirder one.”

And everyone is staring at Shuuichi. This time for real. Nobody says anything, they just look dumbstruck at the sheer amount of hair. Until Rantarou pipes up, pressing a finger to his lips revealing the anchor tattoo running down the length of his arm. “No, I know who that is. That’s that thief. Doukeshi.”

“With the hair?” Miu shouts.

“He’s talking about the short one,” says Ryouma who isn’t much taller than the wooden table he’s standing around.

“You don’t get to call me short, dwarf-chan!” Doukeshi pouts, folding his arms and turning away. He looks like a petulant child when he does this, but despite this, is entirely unconcerned about being called out. He’s been in worse situations.

“Nyehh, shouldn’t someone get the guards then?” Himiko says, uncaring that her cape and hat are getting in the way of her attempt to nap on the table.

“It would seem like a logical source of progression,” says Kirumi from behind the bar. Without even looking, she catches the empty glass sliding back her way in her gloved hands.

“I’ll go get them! They should still be nearby!” Kiibo jumps up, one leg made of metal.

“Um—” Shuuichi starts, but the boy is already out the door. Great. He just got here, and he’s already going to lose his guide.

“Heyyy, barmaid-chan, can you get me the most disgustingly sweet drink you have?” Doukeshi waves his arm from his corner table, but she just ignores him. Even better: the thief doesn’t care at all.

“Um, Doukeshi-san, maybe we should—”

“Relaaaax, Detective-chan. I’m not getting caught. ‘Sides,” Doukeshi looks around the room with an easy-going grin, and Shuuichi is once again reminded of the weaponry on the wall. What kind of place is this? Is he in danger? “Don’t you wanna take in the experience? This is a five-star joint!”

“Actually, I think I really don’t—”

“Excuse me,” blue eyes bore directly into Shuuichi’s own, cutting off his line of thought, “but Angie was wondering why you’re with a wanted thief?”

“Gonta wants to know that too.” Lumbering over from the back, Gonta stares curiously at Shuuichi’s hair. “Also, why do you have so much hair?”

“Is it not possible that this menace is one of the accomplices to the crime?” Tenko says.

Ryouma scans Shuuichi briefly, and says, “Doesn’t seem practical with this much hair.”

“Obviously it’s a fuckin’ wig,” Miu says. “They’re both just trying shitty disguises.”

“They definitely don’t make wigs that long…” Himiko mumbles.

“Even if they did, I heard there were two accomplices,” Rantarou says.

The debate goes on around Shuuichi, with numerous voices piping in with their theories or suspicions. He wants to take Doukeshi and leave, but the thief shows no sign of leaving, kicking his feet back on the table and even egging them on. Not helping! The room is stifling. It’s so hard to breathe. Why did he leave the tower? He wants to go home. This was a mistake. There are so many people, and they’re all getting closer, and arguing, and arguing, about him, and Doukeshi, and his hair, and him and him and him—

“Hey guys, maybe we should let him talk,” Kaede says. She gets up from her seat at the piano, and walks over to Shuuichi, who all this time was still paralyzed at the door. With a gentle smile, she asks, “What’s your name?”

Deep breaths. Shuuichi exhales, slow and long, before finally speaking up. “I’m um, Shuuichi. Just Shuuichi.”

“Shuuichi-kun then. Then you can call me Kaede.” Her voice is warm and reassuring, like Shuuichi always imagined his mother would be like. He nods. “Do you want to explain why you’re here?”

“Well…” How does he begin with this? Obviously, Shuuichi can’t say anything about the hair, but the rest? Can he tell them about the deal? Probably not. So all that’s left is his dream. Are they really going to accept something so simple? So childish? It’s worth a shot. “I wanted to see the lantern festival. I’ve never gone, well…anywhere, before, so I need him to take me.”

“And the hair?” Miu asks. Crap he’s not out of this after all. What does he say? Does he lie? Can he lie? Should he lie? The longer he stays silent, the more suspicious this looks. But he doesn’t know what to say! What should he do—?

“He’s going for a world record,” Doukeshi answers. He’s not looking at Miu, but Shuuichi, and winks. A rescue; thank god. “I want in on the cash prize, so I struck a deal with him.” It’s a lie, but it saved him. Shuuichi will have to thank him for that.

“Stealing the crown wasn’t enough?” Gonta exclaims.

“Is the lantern festival really that important to you?” Kirumi asks. Nobody says it, but the question is implied: is it worth getting tangled up with a thief for this?

But to Shuuichi, that’s something he doesn’t even have to think about. “Yes.” It’s resolute, something he hasn’t been since he arrived. Maybe even before that. “I’ve been dreaming about them my entire life, so now that I have that chance, I need to take it.” And maybe he’s working with a thief, but he thinks that Doukeshi isn’t all that evil. He didn’t have to help. In fact, he could have probably snuck out while they all focused on him, and ran back to the tower, but he stayed. He’s risked a lot just to be here.

But they’re going to turn him in if Kiibo gets back before they can leave. Shuuichi’s chance ends right here, unless he does something. He can’t let that happen. “So…I need you to let us leave.”

Doukeshi raises an eyebrow. Is he serious? Does he really think they’re just going to let him leave? Let Shuuichi go, maybe, but not him. Doukeshi is pretty sure he’s going to have to think fast to get out. Is he really that naïve?

“You can tell the guards where we went, if you want,” Shuuichi continues, looking around at the skeptical group, “I think that’s perfectly fair, but please just let us go. I’m sure all of you have dreams, right?”

“Oh? What makes you say that?” Angie asks, leaning over to the side. On her belt he can see a bunch of painting supplies.

“All of the stuff in the room,” Shuuichi explains. He’s been wondering about the eclectic collection this whole time. The knives, and spears, and taxidermy, all scream ‘thug bar’, and so do the tattoos some of the patrons have, but the other things? “Like Angie-san, you painted all the portraits hanging here, right?”

Angie lights up. “I did!”

“Kaede-san plays that piano.”

Kaede nods.

“And I think you—” Shuuichi points to the green-haired man.

“Amami Rantarou. You can call me Rantarou.”

“Rantarou-san’s a sailor. That wheel on the wall was your idea, right?”

One by one, Shuuichi wanders through the tavern, going through all the items in the room. He matches them from person to person, based on things they’re wearing, or things nearby where they were. Even for Kiibo, who is no longer in the room. And one by one, he captures the interests and names and hearts of every single person he figures out. He thought for sure that if Shuuichi came here, he’d be so overwhelmed he’d want to go back home, and yet. It’s kind of amazing, Doukeshi thinks, that someone so naïve is still so capable. Despite himself, he finds himself a little impressed.

“What about his dream?” Kaede asks, pointing to Doukeshi, and once again everyone’s attention is on him.

“Eh, don’t bother,” Doukeshi says, getting up from his seat. “It’s to be insanely rich so I can lord it over everyone else.” That’s a lie, of course, but nobody here needs to know that.

“That’s horrible,” Tenko says, and everyone nods in agreement, making their own judgmental remarks amongst themselves.

In that instant, the door bursts open, and Kiibo returns with around five or six guards. “I found them!”

And just as suddenly, he’s being grabbed, dragged behind the bar along with Shuuichi. He looks around bewildered, just in time to see Kirumi pull a lever, and the wooden floor beneath them lowers into a ramp, leading into a tunnel. An escape route. So all that touchy-feely stuff paid off. “Go. And don’t come back, or we’ll have to turn you in,” she says, with a stern gaze.

“Thank you, Kirumi-san.” Shuuichi bows a little from his spot on the floor. He didn’t think he’d be able to sway them, but he did. Somehow.

Her stern gaze turns soft, and she smiles at him. “Make your dream come true, Shuuichi-san. I hope it’s everything you’ve imagined.”

“Where is he?” Kaito is talking to the patrons about their disappeared thief while the other guards patrol outside, but they seem to be giving mixed stories. Maki tunes them out.

Those stories never mattered, because he definitely didn’t leave through the door. She has her own witness confirming it. So how did he escape? She’s examined every square inch of this room, but she doesn’t see that pesky thief at all. There has to be some trick. Going up to the bar, she runs her hands along the taps, until she finds one that moves. A lever. A yank, and the floor opens up to reveal a tunnel. “So that’s where he went. Momota. Get everyone. We’re leaving.”

“Harumaki—” But she’s already gone. Kaito sighs. “Fine, I’ll get them.”

Tsumugi watches from the window as Maki storms into the tunnel. It was quite easy to manipulate such an impulsive guard. She needs someone to catch that thief, after all, and dealing with a pest is their job. But she has to get to Shuuichi first, before they do.

He was traipsing around this tavern—carelessly—happily. She saw him. He had the audacity to betray her like this? Oh no. She’s not having that. He’ll have to be punished too.

“Oh, hello Miss.” She finds herself being addressed by a young boy with a metal leg. “Can I do anything for you?”

“You can actually,” Tsumugi replies with a plastic grin, before pointing the dagger right between his eyes. “Tell me where that tunnel lets out.”

Shuuichi will get his punishment, she just has to catch him first.

#oumasaiweek #oumasai #saiouma #Ouma Kokichi #Saihara Shuuichi #hope.txt #v3 Tangled AU #my fic #dangan ronpa #ndrv3 #I feel bad I'm late #I'm so sorry y'all #I fucked it up #BUT HERE IT IS #I HOPE ITS WORTH IT

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