#i am not looking forward to the inevitable point in the day tomorrow where i just start feeling really unwell bc my body hates travel lmao

[ofmora]

hiiii this is just an fyi that i probably won't be around from Friday morning to Saturday evening because i'll be in London watching the Spirited Away stage show.

i'll be staying in a hotel overnight (and probably be v tired during any of my downtime bc of that chronic illness life) so i may pop my head in on discord but that'll probably be it!

i will try to get all of my drafts done today on all accounts, between cleaning and doing some laundry :) i may queue them for my own sanity or just let them fly into the wind like a chaotic goblin, we'll see.

[anniebeemine]

What Do We Do Now?- s.r. x fem!reader

I lost the request for this so I am so sorry!! I remember that it was something along the lines of finding out you're pregnant with Spencer and not really knowing what to do.

You’d been going at it like bunnies for weeks, so the little plus sign shouldn’t be a shock. But as you stared at the pregnancy test in your hand, the small, unmistakable plus sign staring back at you, a wave of disbelief and confusion washed over you. You sank down onto the edge of the bathtub, your mind racing.

This wasn’t part of the plan. Not yet, anyway. Sure, you and Spencer had joked about it, teased each other with the idea of having a mini genius running around, but it was always in some distant, far-off future. And now, here it was, staring you in the face, very much real and present.

After the initial wave of emotions subsided, you began to replay the past few weeks in your mind, trying to pinpoint when this could have happened. You thought back to the night in his office, when the case had weighed heavy on both of you, and you’d found comfort in each other, right there on his desk, with the city lights flickering outside the window.

Or maybe it was that lazy Sunday morning, when you both had decided that staying in bed all day was the only logical plan. You remembered how Spencer had looked at you, his eyes dark with need, his hands roaming over your body as if he couldn’t get enough.

And then there was the weekend getaway, a spontaneous trip to a secluded cabin, where the two of you had practically lived in bed for three days straight, wrapped up in each other, forgetting the outside world existed.

As the memories flooded back, you realized there had been plenty of opportunities—moments when passion had overtaken reason, and precautions had been forgotten in the heat of the moment. The realization made you smile despite the overwhelming emotions coursing through you.

Spencer had always been meticulous, careful, the kind of man who planned everything down to the smallest detail. But with you, those plans had a way of falling apart. You were the one thing in his life that was unpredictable, and you knew he loved you for it.

You took a deep breath, the reality of the situation beginning to sink in. You were pregnant. You and Spencer were going to have a baby.

The thought both thrilled and terrified you. How was he going to react? You knew he’d be supportive, of course—Spencer was nothing if not dependable—but this was huge. Would he be excited? Nervous? Overwhelmed? All of the above?

You stared at the plus sign a moment longer, then set the test down on the counter. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. You needed to tell him, and you needed to do it now.

You stood, feeling the weight of the news settle into your bones, and headed out of the bathroom to find Spencer.

You found Spencer in the living room, hunched over his laptop with a focused expression. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the keyboard as he finalized your travel arrangements. The sight of him so engrossed in his task brought a wave of affection over you, momentarily easing the anxiety that had settled in your chest.

“Hey,” you called softly, walking over to him.

He glanced up, his face lighting up with a smile the moment he saw you. “Hey, I just finished booking everything. We��ve got two tickets to New York, and I managed to snag reservations for the Met and the Natural History Museum. Oh, and I found this great little restaurant for dinner tomorrow night—everything’s set.”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat as you watched him. He looked so excited, his eyes gleaming with anticipation at the thought of the trip. You knew how much he’d been looking forward to it; he’d been talking about it for weeks, planning out every detail to make sure everything was perfect. The idea of dropping such life-changing news on him right before you left seemed… unfair.

So you swallowed back the words that were threatening to spill out and forced a smile instead. “That sounds amazing, Spencer. I can’t wait.”

He reached out, pulling you into a warm embrace. “It’s going to be great, I promise. Just the two of us, a whole weekend to ourselves, exploring the city. You’re going to love it.”

You nodded against his chest, the scent of his cologne grounding you. You’d tell him, just… not now. After New York, when the two of you had had your fill of museums, Central Park, and cozy dinners—then you’d sit him down and tell him everything. For now, you’d enjoy the trip, focus on the two of you, and the news would wait.

Spencer pulled back slightly, looking down at you with a curious expression. “Everything okay? You seem a little… off.”

You quickly plastered a reassuring smile on your face, reaching up to smooth out the worry lines on his forehead. “I’m fine, just trying to wrap my head around the fact that we’re leaving in two hours and I haven’t even started packing yet.”

He chuckled, relieved, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Well, we better get moving then. You know how you get when you’re in a rush—you’ll end up packing everything but the kitchen sink.”

“Hey!” You swatted at him playfully, but the lighthearted banter did what you needed it to do: it pushed the tension away, allowing you to focus on the task at hand.

You made your way to the bedroom, Spencer following close behind, and began pulling out clothes, toiletries, and everything you thought you might need for the weekend. As you tossed items into your suitcase, you couldn’t help but glance over at Spencer, who was meticulously folding his shirts and placing them neatly into his own bag.

Two hours. In two hours, you’d be on a plane to New York, embarking on what was supposed to be a romantic weekend getaway. You’d tell him after the trip, you reassured yourself. You’d find the right moment, when the time was perfect, and you’d tell him everything.

For now, you had to pack, get to the airport, and prepare yourself for a whirlwind weekend with the man you loved—and the secret you were carrying.

After a full day of exploring the museums, your feet were throbbing, but the excitement and happiness you felt more than made up for the discomfort. The Met had been everything you’d imagined, with Spencer leading you through each exhibit with an enthusiasm that was contagious. By the time you left the Natural History Museum, you were both buzzing with the thrill of discovery, chatting non-stop about the artifacts and exhibits that had captured your attention.

As evening fell, you found yourselves at a cozy little restaurant Spencer had found, nestled in a quiet corner of the city. The dim lighting and soft music created the perfect ambiance, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment as you settled into your seat across from him.

Spencer wasted no time in ordering your favorite wine, a detail that made your heart swell. He knew you so well, always attentive to the little things that made you happy. When the waiter brought the bottle to the table and poured you each a glass, you lifted yours to your lips, pretending to take a sip. The rich aroma of the wine filled your senses, but you quickly set the glass down, opting instead for the cool, refreshing water that sat beside it.

As you talked, you found yourself falling into the familiar rhythm of conversation that had always been so effortless between you and Spencer. You discussed the museums, laughed about your sore feet, and planned out the rest of your trip. But despite the easy flow of words, there was an undercurrent of tension that neither of you addressed—an unspoken awareness that hung in the air.

When it came time to order your entrees, you noticed Spencer's gaze lingering on you a little longer than usual. He had always been observant, noticing the small details that others might miss. You could tell he was processing the fact that you had barely touched your wine, a departure from your usual behavior. But just like you, he chose not to say anything, allowing the moment to pass without comment.

The waiter took your orders, and as he walked away, Spencer reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “This has been such a perfect day,” he said, his voice soft and sincere.

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “It really has. I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.”

His eyes softened as he looked at you, a warm smile playing on his lips. “I’m glad. You deserve to be happy.”

For a moment, you considered telling him right then and there, the words hovering on the tip of your tongue. But the thought of shattering this perfect evening with such heavy news made you hesitate. Instead, you leaned into the warmth of his hand, deciding to savor the moment a little longer.

The rest of dinner passed in a comfortable mix of conversation and shared silence. You both skirted around the unspoken tension, choosing to focus on the here and now. Spencer didn’t mention your untouched wine, and you didn’t offer an explanation. It was as if you had silently agreed to let tonight be about enjoying each other’s company, postponing the inevitable conversation until later.

As you walked back to your hotel, hand in hand, the cool night air a welcome relief for your aching feet, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. You knew you couldn’t keep the secret much longer, but for tonight, you let yourself be happy—happy to be in New York, happy to be with Spencer, and happy to be wrapped in the simple joy of being together.

Later that night, you found yourself standing on the balcony of your hotel room, gazing out at the city lights twinkling below. The cool breeze gently brushed against your skin, and you hugged your arms around yourself, lost in thought. The day had been perfect, a beautiful blend of culture, laughter, and love, but the secret you were carrying felt heavier with each passing moment.

You heard the sliding door behind you open, and soon Spencer was at your side, his arms slipping around your waist as he pulled you close. His chin settled on your shoulder, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your neck as he nuzzled into you.

“It’s beautiful out here,” he murmured, his voice soft and content. “But not as beautiful as you.”

You smiled, leaning back into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. “You always know just what to say.”

Spencer chuckled, his arms tightening around you slightly. “It’s easy when I’m with you. You make everything better, you know that?”

You turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of his face as he pressed a kiss to your temple. His eyes were full of love, a deep and unwavering affection that made your heart ache in the best possible way.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “More than anything. I don’t think I could ever put into words just how much.”

You swallowed, your heart racing as you felt the moment slipping away from you. The words were there, hovering on the tip of your tongue, but saying them felt like crossing a line you weren’t sure you were ready for.

But this was Spencer, the man you loved more than anything in the world. The man who would stand by you no matter what. You owed him the truth.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hummed in response, still nuzzling into your neck, content in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you felt him tense behind you. His arms froze, his breath hitching as he processed what you had just said. You waited, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what his reaction would be.

But then, slowly, you felt him relax, his hold on you softening as he exhaled a long, shaky breath. His hands gently moved to rest on your stomach, and you could feel the tenderness in his touch.

“Pregnant,” he repeated softly, as if testing the word on his tongue, making sure it was real.

You nodded, your voice trembling as you spoke again. “I found out right before we left. I didn’t know how to tell you… I didn’t want to ruin today.”

Spencer turned you around in his arms, cupping your face in his hands as he looked into your eyes, his expression a mix of awe and overwhelming love. “You could never ruin anything,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “This is… it’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, relief flooding through you at his reaction. You had been so scared, so uncertain, but now, seeing the love and joy in his eyes, all of those fears melted away.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Spencer leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, one that spoke volumes of the love he felt for you. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and you could see the tears in his eyes as well.

“I love you too,” he whispered back. “So much. And I love… I love that we’re going to have a baby.”

You smiled through your tears, wrapping your arms around him as he pulled you close once more, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. The two of you stood there on the balcony, wrapped in each other’s arms, the city below fading into the background as you held onto the promise of a future you would build together.

[daydream-cement]

 Your blog is amazing and your fics will probably be the death of me at some point, they're so well-written though I just can't stop reading them!

 I gotta say Larissa being a mother figure to her students has a special place in my heart, I need more of that and I was wondering if you could maybe write Larissa x student! reader who hates their shapeshifting powers? They struggle to see their abilities as anything other than a burden because questioning your sense of self can be pretty challenging and « Who am I ? » is one hell of a tricky question when there’s an endless sea of people you can turn into.

Finding Yourself

Larissa Weems x student!reader

Authors Note: This idea is incredible. Thank you for this.

“I was told to come have a little chat with you…” Principal Weems found you in the library, curled up with a book you could care less about. She pulled a chair next to yours, taking a seat and crossing her legs, “How are you, Mx. L/n?”

You stare silently at her, biting the inside of your cheek. Your roommate and dorm mother had told you to talk to Principal Weems about your abilities, but frankly you didn’t even know what to say.

“I’ve heard… that you are struggling with your powers.” Larissa pushed forward a little bit, shifting to sit on the edge of her chair, “Would you like to talk about it?”

You take a deep breath, hating how forced this conversation felt, “I don’t want to be a shapeshifter. I- It just makes life so much harder.”

Principal Weems smiled at you. It was a smile built from the painful memories in which she had thought and felt the same things, “It does. Doesn’t it?”

“How do I choose who I am? I can be anyone. Not to mention there is a million people asking me to be a million things. Do you know how many time people ask me to turn into celebrities or teachers?” You tuck the book in between yourself and the chair, really digging into the meat of what upset you so much.

“The good news is you never have to pick who you want to be. You will grow up and change and fall in love and change and work and change and grow old and change. Change is inevitable,” Principal Weems was so intentional in the way she spoke, making every work count, “Never feel like you have to choose.”

“How did you find yourself?”

“It took some growing pains. A few bad relationships with people who wanted me for anything but myself,” Larissa tried not to get too into it, but wanted to be forthright, “I realized that even with my powers… I like my normal form the best. I don’t really shape-shift more than I have to. Just because we all have gifts and abilities, doesn’t mean we have to use them.”

“So I’m back to where I started. I can be anyone… Why be myself?”

“I must admit you are asking questions for a philosopher and I am a mere principal, but I will say that you should want to be you because you have to live with you for the rest of your life. We sometimes take into account what others think we should be rather than who we really are.” Larissa leaned back in her armchair and looked out the window.

“How do I find myself and who I want to be?” You were liking her advice. She was genuine and seemed to be honest if anything.

“Again with the tough questions. I would recommend trying things. Try new styles and being friends with new people. Try new clubs and classes. We can only find ourselves by experiencing what the world has to offer. You don’t have to know who you are today or tomorrow or the next day. That’s what high school is for. Hell, I’m 44 and I still sometimes think, Larissa, what are you doing with your life? Is this really who you are?”

You laugh at the final thought she added, “Can we talk more about this? Maybe in a couple weeks when I have time to try some new things?”

“Absolutely. You stop by my office whenever you want.” Larissa stood, opening her arms, “Now come here, give me a hug to end this philosophical therapy session.”

You stand with a smirk and lean into her embrace, enjoying the comfort of someone who knows exactly what you are going through, “Thank you, Principal Weems.”

[1ivinqdeadqir1]

SHADES OF COOL: Part IIII

Chapter 4: THE ELEPHANT MAN

A/N: Okay guys!! its been a while!! I hope you enjoy today's chapter and I hope you had an amazing Christmas/new years (if you celebrate) also this isn't proof read, i'll check over it tomorrow morning i just really wanted to get this out for you guys ASAP!!

WARNINGS: mentions of stalking, allusions to psychological abuse, violence, blood, lalo being lalo (sorry if I missed anything!)

word count: 5.8k

parts: 1 2 3

7 am

There was a scratch on the box that ran from the top left to the bottom right corner. It’d been the last model left in stock, and after paying, Ignacio sat in his car for a few minutes trying to buff out the white line. Lalo wouldn’t care, and he didn’t either, but he had been putting off the idea of driving to a random lady's house in the early morning. He sat there for 10 minutes before throwing the phone onto the right-hand passenger side and buckling up, his mind elsewhere as he rode to the young woman's home- which wasn’t as far out as he had initially predicted. The house was big enough for one person to live by themselves comfortably. It looked cosy. He procrastinated getting out too soon, awaiting movement or signs that someone was home. After 5 minutes he figured there wasn’t much point in delaying the inevitable.

A slight breeze brushed his neck as he took quick steps toward the front door, box in hand. Lalo had told him she’d be home, today was her day off. Nacho didn’t know what he had in mind regarding you. You were just a girl, 22 years old- a kid compared to him. What business did his boss have with somebody 22 years his junior? It hadn’t surprised him though, Lalo seemed like the type of man to attract young women. 

His knuckle clattered against the door, and his hand fell to his side when he heard feet padding across the floor. Lalo hadn’t given him a strict set of instructions per se, he’d asked as though he’d had a choice whether to pick up the device. “One second!” someone called through the wooden door. He cleared his throat, feet tapping the ground as he lingered, thumbing the scratch on top of the box. 

“Morning,” she said lifelessly, leaning her arms against the door, body hidden behind the frame. 

Nacho regarded the woman for a moment, nodding, “uh, morning” her head tipped to the side and her hair fell tepidly down past her shoulder “Lalo asked me to drop this off for you” he pushed the box forward in one hand, and she stepped back at the impact, brows furrowed inward as he remained on the doorstep grimacing. 

“Thanks,” she could’ve scoffed, but hadn’t and instead chose to smile up at him. He glanced to the side as she spoke, hands layered together. “You’re Ignacio, right? I think I’ve seen you at the restaurant and Casa Tranquila.” He’d been wearing a gold link chain around his neck, beneath his maroon button-down. Expensive, she thought, asking herself whether that restaurant Lalo’s uncle Hector owned was earning enough to warrant Ignacio a gold chain. Maybe, it's fake. or a gift. “Nacho is fine, and yeah, I’m there quite a bit… “he replied, fidgeting with his rolled-up sleeves. “How’s Hector?”

“Alright” by this point the woman had stepped out from behind the door, arms folded across her chest. “I’m y/n by the way, I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” he flashed y/n a warm smile, and she held out her hand- pushing it forward similarly to how he’d handed her the box a moment ago.

“Right.” Nacho took her hand in his, giving it a firm shake before letting it slip back to its original place, “Do you have Lalo’s number still written down somewhere?”

“I do, yeah, thanks for dropping it off,” she began to trace the white line where the box had been damaged; it was the same model as the phone she’d once owned- were they still producing them? “It's fine, I'll see you around, y/n”

------

When Nacho returned, Lalo was working on his car and his hands were stained with motor oil and grease. He’d talked to him about the stalker, Daniel. He bought from them often, complained about the product and then started buying his drugs from someone else before realising that he couldn’t get anything as good as what they sold. A backhanded compliment that would’ve been entertaining had Daniel refrained from stalking the woman who’d been taking care of his Tio for over a month.

Ignacio leaned against the workbench, forearms pressed across his chest as he glanced over, Lalo smiled widely, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder. “Took you long enough, Ignacio,” he ignored the fact Nacho rolled his eyes. “I’d half-convinced myself that you ran off with the girl…” 

“No,” Nacho said pointedly, lips pursed together. 

The fumes from the car had already begun to give Ignacio a migraine and he wondered how Lalo’s skull remained intact whilst he worked on his car. He could hardly hear himself think. 

“How is she? La Niña,” water slipped through his fingers as he scrubbed at the stains, thinking of the girl he’d dropped off last night and how soft her hands had been when wrapped around him. After a moment of silence, he spoke up again, the squeak of the faucet punctuating his speech “Ignacio?”

The shorter man sighed “She’s okay,” Nacho thought back to earlier, how you’d smiled at him and outstretched your hand for him to shake. You were pretty enough, soft looking in a way that made him want to pinch your rosy cheeks, but he’d keep that to himself knowing that Lalo would take it the wrong way. “I gave her the phone and asked if she had your number, she said yeah and introduced herself properly” 

As Nacho spoke Lalo busied himself by drying off his hands with the towel he had draped across his shoulder, nodding along. He had the image of you in his car last night at the forefront of his mind. The way you’d pressed your small hands against your cheeks as you wept, the sniffles and stammering as you tried to explain what was going on. I’m not crazy, she had said. Though he hadn’t come to that conclusion then and still believed that the way you were acting wasn’t irrational. When you’d first met, he took notice of the sharp intelligence behind your eyes, you knew how to handle yourself. you weren’t stupid or easy to fool and he admired that. He’d yet to meet someone as cunning and charming as him, however, based on what he had witnessed first-hand in person and over the phone, you were a force to be reckoned with. 

“She’s a sweet thing, right?” Lalo asked, not expecting much from Ignacio, the man that hardly spoke at all. “Yeah, she’s alright,” alright, a safe answer. Not too keen but not overly enthusiastic. That is the perfect response to a question like that. 

Lalo cleared his throat and tossed the towel onto the workbench, sitting down on a foldable metal chair that squeaked quietly beneath the weight of his body. “so, this gringo, Daniel, you know where it works, right?”

“Yeah, he works at this little rundown dive bar in the middle of town… it’s him stalking her, I had a few of the guys check out his place after you called last night, he has a bunch of weird shit in his room… photos, a toothbrush.. all sorts of junk.”

A toothbrush? What the fuck? He’d heard of men stealing women's panties but their toothbrushes… this guy was more fucked up than he’d initially thought.

“Aye, toothbrush? Dios mio, that’s fucking weird…”

Nacho laughed dryly, and Lalo almost felt like he’d imagined it. A beaming smile pulled at the corners of his lips, his dark, warm eyes concentrated with mischief. “I'm not having this pendejo keep scaring the shit out of her, she’s the only person Hector gets on with up here…” 

Turning his body to face Lalo, Nacho spoke up “Well what do you want to do about it?”

What do you want to do about it? Ignacio’s question, as simple as it was, ran through Lalo’s mind for hours after. 

------

It was 1:35 in the afternoon when the pair arrived at ‘Louie’s pub & grill’, Nacho had his window open, arm slung half across the frame. He kept his other hand loosely on the wheel. “He’s the one with the black hair- that one,” he said, nodding toward a man leaning against the fire door, fingers curled around a cigarette. Looking at him now, had he not already known the age of the man leaning, Lalo would’ve guessed that he was around 35. The shadows cut into his face like stone, his shoulders slumped forward- ageing him a good 5 years. The dark circles encompassing his eyes were so noticeable - even from the other side of the street- that for a moment Nacho had thought he’d been in a fight.

“So what, is he a  bartender here or something?”

Nacho turned, and the feeling of the warm air brushed his face. He shrugged, scratching his jaw as Lalo leaned over to get a better look. He took a breath, “ mouse said he gets his shit at around 9:30, right after work- he’ll be done in a few hours, best approach him then… if that’s what you’re planning on doing”

Laughing, Lalo moved his palms against the rough texture of his jeans, “You’re going to help me, you know that, right?” 

Nacho faltered for a moment and nodded his head ‘yeah.’ He couldn’t exactly say no to Lalo, stating directly that he didn’t want a part of whatever weird romantic gesture this was. Hey baby, you’re being stalked? How about I eliminate the guy for you? Oh- please, it’s nothing. Sometimes when he sat with Lalo and looked at him, he saw Tuco and then remembered who he was dealing with. Salamanca. Salamanca. Sa-la-man-ca. That name had repeated over and over. It no longer sounded like a word.

“We’ll get here at eight and see what happens.” He said, waiting for a reply which came in a low hum from Ignacio. “Besides, I wonder what this Hijo de puta has to say about it.” 

------

Back at your house, you’d just finished setting up your phone. It was relatively easy - you had all the essential numbers written down on a pad: Your grandmas, grandpas, coworkers, and a few others. You currently sit with your hands cupped around a mug of coffee, glancing between that and the TV. The show playing was rather dull, ‘friends’, the American sitcom your mother loved. As the laughing track echoed around the small living room, you began to wonder what Lalo was doing and shot him a message.

‘Hey, It’s y/n  :)’ 

A beam of sunlight catches you in the eyes, and you wince- shuffling off the couch to shut the curtains that’d been left ajar. Taking the heavy linen in your hand, you stop and glimpse the road. There’s a car that you haven’t seen before on the other side of the street, parked on the curb. You press firmly into the curtain and drag them shut. 

------

Buzz. buzz. Buzz. 

There’s a sigh, and Nacho dismisses it as he rounds a corner onto the street of El Michoacáno. Lalo was tapping away at the keypad to send his reply, smiling in the passenger seat as he skimmed over the message on the phone again. You must’ve already set up the phone he’d brought over; he severely doubted anyone else would have had Salamanca in such a bubbly mood from a text alone. You seem like a nice girl and having now finally met you. He understood the appeal- and how a stalker would grind Lalo’s gears- but still, he wondered whether or not he was being irrational. Or if you were. 

Your name is light on Lalo’s chest when he answers the phone. There’s humming, gravel crunching beneath ridiculously blue loafers and lalo wandering further into the parking lot. For privacy, Nacho assumes, and in turn, takes it upon himself to hide out in the restaurant and count money for the time being.

“So, you’re liking the new phone then?” 

There’s a laugh, and a small sigh, “yeah it’s exactly like my old one but… newer, of course” you wonder whether or not actually to get dressed today, or if maybe a day of rest would be more appropriate. 

“I’m glad,” he’s scratching the scruff of his chin as you sit in silence, “are you free tomorrow?” There’s a low hum, and muttering as if you’re trying to list all the things you need to do, it’s cute, and he doesn’t even realise that he’s smiling at your weird chattering. 

“Yeah, I should be,” you said, his name soft against your tongue- you loved saying it. Lalo Salamanca, it was almost poetic. “Why?” 

“Let me take you out for dinner, my treat” 

“But Lalo, you’ve already bought me a phone- I had to save up for ages to get the last one… how do you- how can you afford it?”

He scoffs, kicking at the gravel beneath his feet, the blue of his loafers a stark contrast to the chalky white pathway. “Oh? Well, I’m a little offended, querida.”

You laugh quietly, it’s light and feminine in a way that leads him to believe you’re holding back your genuine laugh. 

“No no, I didn’t mean it like that…but seriously, you shouldn’t- “ 

“-So what you’re saying is that you don’t want me asking just anyone out, right? “ his laugh’s a low grumble. “How controlling. ”

Cheeks rosy, you curl your fists into your lap and try to hide the ridiculous smile that’s drawn across your face; you get up, take the phone and walk into your bedroom to have a root around for something to wear. Maybe a nice dress tomorrow, something that’d make you look less ‘Grey's Anatomy’ and more ‘Baywatch’. Men liked ‘Baywatch’, right?

“Hey if you’re free later maybe we can… meet up? Go see a movie or something?” 

He’d been leaning against the side of the building, sighing and pushing his hair out of his face for what felt like the thousandth time. As much as he’d like to, there were a few things he had to do today- business related. Not that he didn’t like the idea of you picking out a movie for you to watch together. “I can’t today querida,” there’s silence on the other end of the phone. Chewing the inside of your cheek, disappointed, you tried to keep yourself occupied to ignore what he had just said. 

“But if we were to go and see one,” his words draw you from the moment of embarrassment. “What would you suggest?” 

The phone had been placed on your bed as you searched through your drawers, speakerphone on so you could hear him perfectly. You set a pile of clothes back into the chest, humming. “Well, you’ve heard of Quentin Tarantino, right?” 

“Of course, Pulp Fiction, he’s the guy that has a thing for…fee?t”

“Yeah, that guy, he’s just released that movie… kill bill 2? Maybe we could go see it another time when you’re less busy”

Your voice is somewhat quieter, and he almost folds- almost. “Maybe, we’ll see.” It’s odd, how for a moment the thought of you enjoying such violent films makes his chest warm and his lip twitch. You have good taste, and he’s more than happy to endure the Tarantino movie marathons he could see you both having in the future. “Alright” your voice is quiet, almost inaudible. “I have to go now, querida, I’ll call you later,”

He says as you sit down against your mattress, palms pressed into the soft cotton quilt. You nod, ‘yeah’ beneath your breath, and there’s a hollow feeling in your belly. “I’d like that… it was nice talking to you lalo- thanks again”

Despite what he had done, you weren’t confident that everything Lalo had done so far- snap your phone in half and toss it into the backseat- would do anything to stop the pestering Daniel would hammer you with.  

------

For the remainder of the day, you pottered around your home- tidying up places that’d begun to gather dust or that you figured needed a spring cleaning. You hadn’t heard from Lalo, so when there came another knock on your door at 7 pm, a conspicuous feeling of helplessness returned. By the oak wood door, there was a small side table where a few trinkets lay atop its frame- a shallow dish filled with loose change, bobby pins, a few scented candles - and recently,  you had added a small can of pepper spray. Just in case. Maybe it was paranoia, you were overreacting a little bit- hell, it might not even be Daniel. With the cylindrical canister comes the strength to move closer, and with the resilience, you reach out for the deadbolt and slide it through the hilt. 

There's another knock - this one firmer and more opposing when compared to the one prior - which makes your stomach turn with the handle and hinges.

------

At 8, Lalo and Ignacio sat parked in an alleyway beside the bar. Whilst stroking his moustache, lalo looks out onto the street, down the narrow walkway and thinks of what the weirdo would go and do with his evening had he and Nacho stayed out of it. As much as he liked you, Lalo would never go as far as stealing your toothbrush- or even breaking into your home to get close to you. It was almost comical how this ex of yours somehow managed to single-handedly become one of the most pathetic men Lalo had the displeasure of knowing. To his left, nacho’s tense in the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel and another on his thigh; his brown eyes flicked between the rearview mirror and the dashboard. There weren’t many people strung around the side of the bar, the trashbags and brick walls caked with grime warded off any unwanted attention from passers-by. Daniel had smoked here earlier, the guy didn’t have a car so they could probably get a hold of him relatively easily. Approach him, jab a gun into his side and lure him to the car. Easy, someone as spineless as this guy wouldn’t be much of a problem, not for Ignacio and certainly not for Lalo.

“I think I see him, that guy there,” Nacho says, nodding at a man that’s currently shrugging on a brown leather jacket that looked tight around the middle. Lalo huffed, perking up in his seat when Daniel came into his field of view. What a complete and utter weirdo. “Tape?” He asked as if Nacho had forgotten his crucial role in the kidnapping. Ignacio sighed and pulled out a thick wad of silver duct tape, Lalo grinned wide, patted him on the shoulder and jumped out with his gun at his waist. 

Daniel pulls a cigarette from a crumpled-up box of Marlboro reds’ and Placing it between chapped lips, he pats at his coat and jeans looking for a lighter.

“Need a light?” Lalo called out, motioning toward a zippo he’d had tucked away in his back pocket. There’s a smile on Daniel's face, wide and stupid looking- and his eyes wrinkle with fatigue. “thanks “ he doesn’t even flinch when lalo steps beside him, holding up the flame a few inches away from his face. “No problemo”

He thinks that’s it, that the two would part ways and this moustachioed stranger would leave and walk in the other direction- but he doesn’t. Daniel began to wonder whether or not the guy had something he wanted to ask- maybe he was a tourist or someone he owed money to. As he waited there, taking the first puff of his cigarette, lalo reached out to press a firm hand atop the man's shoulder. He stood around 5’9”, his shoulders were broad and his hair a mess of dark brown atop his scalp. “I don’t think we’re done here, mijo” Lalo says, his lips pursed in a straight line across his face. Daniel waits patiently- shuffling in his spot. The cigarette trembles between his cracked lips, and falls to the ground when something dull jabs him in his side. “If you shout or scream I won’t hesitate to put a cap in your baboso ass, okay?” there’s still a lightness to Lalo’s tone when he further stabs the gun into daniel’s side- punctuating his statement. Daniel’s breaths are shaky, and all he can manage is a feeble nod. Pushing a hand to Danny's shoulder, Lalo gives him a firm squeeze and walks him to the trunk of his car. 

Standing with the tape ready in his hands, Nacho binds Daniel’s wrists, mouth and eyes. There's a moment between himself and Lalo, silence, that is interrupted by the muffled cries of Daniel. Nacho goes to pacify him, but before he does Lalo lifts his arm and hits the butt of his gun right between Daniel’s eyes. Effectively shoving him into a state of unconsciousness. His body slumps against the open trunk, his neck angled awkwardly to the side. There’s already a bruise forming on his head. Lalo notices it when he lifts the guy's legs up and over into the back. “That was easier than I thought it would be” Nacho sighs, binding Daniel’s ankles together. The tearing of the duct tape rasps through the silence, though is muffled by the obnoxious sound of music panging through the brick walls. “I guess so, we’re a good team ay?!”  he closes the compartment of the car and rounds Ignacio in the alleyway to get to his passenger seat. as they pull out of the alley, it feels as though there isn’t a fully grown man curled up in the back.

------

“Mom” you whine as she springs through, across the threshold and into your home. Her Louboutins heel leaves small circles in her wake- all across your carpet. “Honey, you really need to start answering the door quicker!” the shrillness of her voice makes you want to dry heave all over the newly dotted carpet. “Mom, I was doing something” you try to keep your tone level- and grasp at whatever patience it is you have left, though when she turns her head sharply in your direction and scrunches up her face, you can almost physically feel the patience evaporate from your body and out into the hallway. 

Her wide, marbled eyes scan your form from head to toe, “Doesn’t seem like you were up to anything, you’re still in your pyjamas” you think you hear a laugh, a chuckle- giggle, maybe. But for the sake of your own sanity, you push it aside and follow her into the small kitchen. Before you can even open your mouth she’s opening up your cupboards and pulling a half-empty bottle of wine from the shelves. Her arm drops a little as she picks it up, as though she’d expected it to be lighter. 

“Oh my little baby,” the stream of red runs from within the bottle out into the wine glass she’d pulled from the washrack. For a split second, you imagine what she’d do if you spilt the cheap wine over her dress… but instead, you take a deep breath, “why are you here? I told you I don’t want anything to do with you, please leave.”

Your mother laughs and places the bottle down hard, the dull thud rings through the walls and out into the hall. “Excuse me? Who do you think you’re talking to young lady?” you don’t reply, and she seems to grow even more frustrated. Though the lack of wrinkling at her brow leads you to believe that she’s had another few botox injections since your last meeting. 

“I am your mother how dare you talk to me like that after everything I’ve done for you” she pauses, and you simply fold your arms across your chest. You haven't seen her for months, and before your last meeting, it’d been 2 years. She dumps all her emotional baggage onto you as a child- psychologically fucks up your head and leaves you with your father's parents. It was clear that she had never wanted children, your mom. She was always cruel and your father had known that. Despite his issues, he tried, he tried to be a good parent but your mother just wouldn’t budge. She’d degrade the both of you, you hadn’t understood it then, as a baby, but now when you sit and think about it you begin to realise that you had spent your adolescence missing a woman that had never really even been there. You see your dad sometimes, usually when you’re with your grandparents. He’d come over when sober and pass out on the couch, drooling everywhere and mumbling in his pungent clothes as you sit in the kitchen with grandma- peeling vegetables or knitting. Your grandpa would handle your father, he’d talk him around for a few hours whilst he calmed down. 

You hadn’t known what had turned your father into a mess. He used to be bright and full of hope, whereas now he’s quite the opposite. As a child, you’d ask your grandma if it was your fault. if you were the reason your parents argued and your dad gulped down his feelings. she‘d shake her head ‘no’ and give  you a squeeze. But as an adult, you’d accepted that your birth had contributed to the fall. 

Yet as you stand before her, no matter how much you are screaming at yourself to give her hell- you don’t. You just stand there. Placid in the doorframe. 

She starts to talk about her new fiancee, Martin or something. He’s a Swedish inventor and filthy rich- you want to laugh but bite your tongue as she rattles on about how well he treats her and how much you’d like him. God, she hardly knew you. It was as though she had made her own version of you in her head- the perfect daughter. Pretty, smart, funny- forgiving, naive. She just expected you now, after 2 and a half years apart, to just accept everything that had happened. As though it were as easy as treating a scraped knee or sore stomach. Nothing was easy with her. If she was a scraped knee it’d have to be amputated. If she were a stomach ache she’d probably be Irritable bowel syndrome. Emphasis on irritable. 

“- soooo I want you to be a part of the wedding!” 

Her feigned smile and chirpy voice draw you from your own thoughts. Your eyes are blown wide and your hands go cold at the tips. She hadn’t ever asked you to be a part of something. “You want me to take part in y-your wedding?” you feel like crying. One part of you really wants this- the part of you that's craved motherly love for years, yet the other is seething with rage- why would she come to you now with this news and just throw it at you expecting you to just accept without questioning where the fuck she had been.

“Yes! Precisely dear, Martin has two daughters, both around your age and he’s made me realise that i-” she stops, and clutches at the purse you had only just noticed in her hands. “I haven’t really appreciated you over the years, In all honesty, I've been subpar- yet I want to try and rebuild our relationship as mother and daughter.” 

Rebuild. Funny, it’d only be rebuilding if there were something there to work on. You think, bitterly, as though there isn’t even the slightest possibility of this being at all genuine. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

She winces, and places down the glass of wine. You hardly focus on the sound of her heels clicking against the linoleum, her expensive perfume overloads your senses and you suddenly feel like sneezing. “Look, darling- y/n, I’m being honest with you love, and actually… Martin’s working with a law firm and we’re going to be in town for a while so I was wondering if you’d want to go out for a meal with us?”

“I’ll think about it.” the words are out of your mouth before you can truly grasp what you’ve said- and how it must sound. “I’m not saying yes,” you flinch as she reaches out to touch your shoulder- a dismal attempt at comfort. “But I’ll- I just have to think about it. How long  are you in town for?”

“About a month.”

“That’s fine, I’ll talk to you before then.”

You think you catch a glimmer of hope in her tired eyes. “Oh- you can invite a friend with you too, if you’d like, a guy friend maybe?”

You brush off her awkward attempt at teasing, though, for a split second you see his trimmed moustache and wide smile in your head. Lalo. 

------

“I swear i don’t know anythin-” there's a thud as lalo hits Daniel again, taking his shoulder in one hand and plunging his fist into his face with the other. The man's arms are bound to a chair, his feet taped to the legs as blood trickles from his nose onto his shirt. They’d been there for what felt like hours, in a warehouse out of town- where ocho loco had set everything up for them. There was no one around for miles, no one to hear his screams as lalo questioned and tortured him to his heart's contempt. 

“Oh so you don’t know y/n?” he says, standing upright, hands on his hips. There are blooms of red on his shirt and at his knuckles, and the red runs thick down onto the damp floor- puddling. “you’re saying my guys are wrong? That these AREN’T pictures of y/n, showering, changing- they’re all what, relatively recent too, kid” lalo tosses the pictures to daniels feet, as his head is angled down at the ground. Limp, awkwardly. Nacho folds his arms nearby, looking at all the evidence his guys had broken in to get. There were two pairs of underwear, a plastic retainer, weird scribblings and collages. The panties looked to be somewhat crunchy, and he dreaded the thought of what that poor cotton had done to deserve such a cruel fate.  

“Just please let me go I swear just FUCKING LET ME GO!” he sobbed, hiccuping as lalo continued to mock him, and beat him. The guy looked unrecognisable; his head was plump and plum coloured in areas, his eyes swollen shut- the size of billiard balls. A thick sludge of snot and blood continued to fall and dry at his nostrils and busted lip. His teeth were all painted maroon, and slobber ran down his chin and dripped onto his lap. His hands were raw at the wrists from how he had been struggling in his chair- trying to get away. They’d upgraded from duct tape to rope, coarse thick hairs that wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he whipped himself around. It was animalistic, how Lalo had kept him alive. As if this show of desperation was entertaining.

The guy was a creep for sure, god knows how long the stalking had gone on. Nacho wasn’t sure how he felt about it, how he felt about Lalo breaking each finger from the root of its joint whilst saying “try and take pictures of naked women now, Vete a la chingada, motherfucker.” the ear piercing sound of screaming was enough to make nacho wince. He used some tissue and picked up the pairs of underwear and walked over to shove them in that asshole's mouth. 

Lalo turned to look at nacho and placed his hands on his hips as he shoved the underwear into the pervert's mouth. “Geez nachito, I wish I’d thought of that one”

Daniel continued to sob, and Nacho took a few steps back to marvel at how lalo had expertly painted this gringo black and blue all over. The guy reminded him of a lump of squeezed playdough. It was like something you’d see at the end of a boxing match or during a zombie apocalypse. 

“Okay, well, toss me the pliers… if he won’t talk I guess we’ll just have to go digging for answers,” the taller of the pair sighs, heavily, and holds out a hand. Nacho is quick to deliver the pliers, the ones that he is all too familiar with. They were the same pair he’d threatened that lawyer with. Saul Goodman. “As much as I admire your craftsmanship, we’re gonna have to take these babies out” he's talking to nacho directly as he fishes the panties out from daniels mouth. He wriggles around violently, whipping his shoulders and head from side to side. The job proves harder than he’d initially anticipated, so Ignacio walks over and pries his mouth open with his bare hands. There’s resistance for a moment, but he stops resisting- stops whining ‘no’ - after a few seconds.  

Lalo thanks his friend, and shuffles closer- to get a better look. He pokes around a little with the pliers- singing to himself in Spanish- before deciding on a molar, one at the back that he’d definitely miss.

“WAIH  WAIH OHAY OHAY!!” he sobbed uncontrollably and wailed as lalo began to pull the tooth out from its gum. God his breath stunk. 

“I HID IT i fuhin did ih ohay?!?! I loh err!”

Lalo motions for Ignacio to let go of his mouth, so he can understand what the guy was saying. 

“Go on”

“I did it! Okay, I love her- i- just please let me go! I’ll do anything please!”

Ignacio walks to his side and shoves his hands in his pockets. Lalo looks up at him, and then back at Daniel. Lalo inches closer once again, and takes him by the nape of his neck- to steady him as he rockets a fist into his gut again. Winding him.

“The only reason I’m keeping you alive, Daniel, is because I think if I downright killed you, she’d notice… you have a family right?  that care about you?”

Daniel nodded twice, and Lalo tries to hide the smile tugging at his lips. If only his familia knew what he got up to on his days off.

“Well, if I find out - and I will find out - if you’ve called her up or visited her home, I will put a bullet right through your thick skull.” there's no lilt in his tone as he stares blankly at the man before him. The elephant man. “And if you go to the police, or tell anyone what happened here, I will kill your mother, I will kill your father and I kill your little sister,” he stops, and Nacho's eyes widen momentarily. “What was her name again? Lilly? Such a beautiful name... I wonder what Lilly would think of you now, or how the name Lilly would look on a gravestone”

The elephant man is panting and shaking his head violently like a caged animal. “No no no you can’t- You won’t!” 

“But i will!” Lalo chuckles and shakes his head- as though to mock Daniel’s struggle. 

“I think I’ve made myself pretty clear, no?”

[gripefroot]

Crooked Ways [5/22]

Vegeta was starting to believe he was cursed. 

If this is what I get for trying to be courteous, I’m never doing it again! The biting rage filled his mind while he hopped on foot, clutching his throbbing toes with one hand and holding a breakfast tray aloof with the other, hissing and praying it wouldn’t spill on his head. 

With his luck, it just might be inevitable. 

“I cleaned this up last night!” he exploded, ignoring all politeness he might owe the occupant, now stirring beneath a pile of covers on the bed across the room. “Did you put this here on purpose to trip me?”

“Put what where?” Bulma’s bleary voice emerged from the covers a moment before her head did, teal hair standing on end and giant eyes blinking back sleep as they tried to focus on him. Vegeta gave her a snarl for the trouble, dropping the tray none too gently on her dresser. Then he kicked the box that had attacked his toes for good measure. “What’s that?” Bulma asked, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand. 

“How am I supposed to know!”

“Read the label,” she suggested. “Because I don’t know what it is. I didn’t do any more organizing last night after you forbade me from it.” Her tone was testy. Good to know he wasn’t the only one in a foul mood. 

Vegeta leaned over the box, frowning at the gold letters scrawled on top. Too flourished to be properly legible, but he made them out. “Canton’s Creations,” he read aloud. “There’s a note attached.”

“Well, what does it say?”

He bit back a nasty remark and read from the handwritten note. “For Miss Briefs. We look forward to seeing you in our latest creation tomorrow night. Love from Canton and team.” 

A full-hearted groan filled the room, diverting Vegeta’s attention from the box. Bulma had flopped back in her bed, covering her eyes with her hands and looking utterly defeated. Minus the necessary wounds, of course. 

“I can’t believe I forgot,” she moaned, as if she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. “Stupid Past Me for agreeing to that!”

“What is it?” Vegeta asked warily, unsure if he truly wanted to know.

Bulma sighed, sliding her hands down her face. Then winced, cradling her cast to her chest. “It’s for a biannual scientific research award gala,” she said. “Dad asked me to go in his place. That was back when…” Her voice drifted off into another sigh. “Yamcha and I were going to go together.”

Ah. Vegeta inched towards the door, disinterested in female romantic hysterics. Lest he be tempted to fly halfway across the world and strangle Yamcha for being the cause of Vegeta having to listen to it. 

“I can’t stay another day in here!” Bulma cried out suddenly, blasting off the blankets as if suddenly able to control her ki. Vegeta opened his mouth to order her back to bed, and then closed it in a rare moment of wisdom. “And don’t tell me I should go back to bed,” she pointed a finger at Vegeta’s nose, approaching in a flurry of silken pajamas. He was glad he had said anything. 

“As if it’s worth the effort,” he retorted, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You never listen, even when it’s good for you.”

She pulled a face, sticking out her tongue. 

“You can get your own meals from now on,” Vegeta said. “But do not go anywhere alone.”

“I’m going to a gala alone tomorrow night,” Bulma pointed out. She ran her fingers through her hair, standing the tufts of bangs on end. “What are you going to do about that?”

“Nothing. It’s hardly the same as a dark alley at midnight.”

“As if I’ve ever - ” She stomped a foot, hands clenched in fists at her side while her eyes sparked with anger. Well, one hand clenched. The other sort of…clasped around the cast. 

No wonder she needed a mountain of blankets at night. Her pajamas couldn’t possibly provide anything in the way of warmth. The silk shorts barely covered her backside and the top was only half-buttoned, showing off slips of pale shoulder and her long, slender arms.

“Don’t even try to ask me to accompany you to the gala,” Vegeta said, turning away. “I’d rather get eaten by an Scaled Amphrotic Slug than go to such a thing.”

“I’d rather eat a - a Scaley Amprotic Slug than ask,” Bulma shot back. He glanced over his shoulder to take one final admiring look at how irritation made her eyes bright and alive. He grinned without thinking, giving a tch! of appropriate derision just so she knew how disgusted he was by the prospect. 

The only problem was that he wasn’t as disgusted as he should be. 

Vegeta buried it beneath hours of training that day. The new bots Bulma had installed - just as violent and tricky and painful as he’d hoped - kept him on his toes and in the air and single-mindedly focused on avoiding the burning blasts that singed through his training clothes when he got unlucky. The blisters were reminders of how Bulma was besting him with her technology, how he needed to get stronger, faster, and better. He kept his teeth gritted and didn’t bother to wipe the sweat pouring down his face, the temperature of the pod rising uncomfortably by the hour. 

A blast of cool air caught the back of his neck, and he whipped around to dodge another blast, blinking at the sudden sunlight streaming in from the open door of the pod. 

“Relax, it’s just me,” Bulma said, striding right in as if she owned the place. Though technically she did. She was back in her jumpsuit, a hat holding her hair up and out of her face. 

“What do you want?” Vegeta panted, watching her approach with caution. 

She smiled, holding out a thin strip of fabric, one end falling to the floor. “I want to take measurements.”

“Measurements? Of what?”

“Just hold out your arms like a good boy and this’ll be over before you know it.” 

As if the bots knew their creator was in the room, all firing had ceased with Bulma’s appearance. Had she controlled them from outside the pod? She must. Vegeta tried not to flinch with each touch of Bulma’s cool fingers with the tape around his wrists, his biceps, down his arm. Each number she scribbled with a pen on the palm of her hand. 

“Like the bots?” she asked, muffled by the pen in her mouth as she measured from the nape of his neck to the end of his shoulder. Vegeta cursed the hairs rising on his skin. 

“They’re adequate,” he said. 

“More than adequate, I think.” Bulma fingered a singed bit of fabric from his back with a laugh. “I’ll upgrade them when you stop getting hit.” 

“What are you doing, anyway?” Vegeta snapped when she ducked beneath his outstretched arm to grab him around the waist. “This is humiliating!” 

“This is me doing something nice for you,” she said. The tape went around his waist, and she wrote that number on her palm as well. “Stop fidgeting, why don’t you? You’re acting like a toddler. Haven’t you been measured for clothes before?”

“Huh?”

Bulma hummed. “I take that as a no.” The tape went around his hips next. Vegeta fastened his eyes on the wall opposite him, taking short breaths through his nose. 

“Suits in the Frieza Force come in standard sizes,” he muttered. “And the undergarments are made of special fabrics that can be indefinitely stretched to any size. They are made standard across the universe.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I don’t have any of that special space fabric, so you’re just going to have to suffer.” Her knuckles brushed against his backside. Vegeta whirled around, glowering down at her kneeling behind him to measure from his buttocks to the ground. 

“The indignity!” he growled. 

“Hush. I’m almost done.” 

He believed her until the next several minutes were spent on the circumference of his thighs and calves, even the length of his feet, which he had to take off his boots for. 

“I’ll have to do some durability testing on different fabrics before I know the best blend of fibers to protect and move with you the best,” Bulma said, finally winding up the tape that Vegeta fervently hoped to never see again. “If you’re willing to test them out by fighting in them, it would be helpful for me.”

“Fine.” 

“Until then…” Her eyes swept up and down his body, somehow bristling him more than the light feel of the tape brushing over his skin. “Wait right there.” 

Vegeta crossed his arms, tapping his fingers on his biceps with his suspicious gaze narrowed on Bulma’s retreating figure. She left the pod to disappear in the brilliant sunshine, but returned a few minutes later with a pile of clothing.

“These at least aren’t torn, and they’re more suited for activity than the stuff you wear around the house,” Bulma explained. “Hope you don’t mind the Capsule Corp logo.”

Vegeta was indifferent to logos. He lifted a specimen from the top of the pile, letting it fall open to reveal a sleeveless black top. “I could make holes in this with one finger,” he declared, studying the flimsy weave. 

“Well, don’t,” Bulma said. “It’s getting embarrassing, how you wander around with that suit falling apart. Someone’s going to see something they don’t want to, someday, and they’re going to complain to me or Dad or Mom and then we’ll all be uncomfortable.” 

“If your race is bothered by such a thing - ” Vegeta began, but with a loud sigh Bulma held up a hand to shut him up. 

Unfortunately, it worked. 

“Another fact of the matter is that you live with us now, in our house,” she said. “You represent us. Do us a favor and put yourself together a little more.” 

“There are more important things than appearance.” He lifted up the next article of clothing, a pair of tight black shorts. “Like destroying the Androids.”

“Sure. Just make sure you destroy them without your nipples hanging out.” Bulma shoved the rest of the pile into Vegeta’s arms. Wadded socks fell out in a cascade, dropping to the floor. “See you later.”

He mused, after stripping off his blackened and unraveling suit to don the new clothes, that Bulma had been surprisingly cordial, all things considered. She hadn’t strangled him with the tape, even when she’d wrapped it around his neck to measure. It would have been a clever assassination attempt, even if she'd have no chance of success. Crouching over to tie the sneakers, he supposed it had been thoughtful of her to supply him with more appropriate clothes for training. 

He bounced on his feet a few times, testing the spring of the soles. Then threw some punches, calculating the strain in the sleeveless shirt. As long as he wasn’t fighting anything with poisonous spores for skin or that sweat lava or spat acid, it would suffice for training. 

A whirring noise above him caught his attention. Vegeta didn’t turn, grinning to himself as he heard the telltale sign of an incoming blast. 

Break time was over. He leapt forward, handspringing out of the trajectory of the deadly fire, and found that human clothes weren’t the worst he’d worn. 

~

He wolfed down the cold remains of the family dinner over the kitchen sink that night, gut ravaged by hunger from the especially good training that day. Usually he tried to exude more dignity but it was late enough that most of the lights in Capsule Corp were off and all was quiet. Not all, Vegeta allowed, dropping another bone into the plastic sack in the sink that he was using to dispose of the chicken carcass. The tinny drone of one of the shows Bulma favored tickled his ears while he ate. It didn’t bother him enough to shout at her to turn down the volume, but it was enough to remind him that he wasn’t the only one awake. 

Blue and white light flashed on the walls of the hallway when Vegeta made his way out of the kitchen. He paused in the archway leading into the living room where Bulma’s face was lit up by the screen of the television, a thoughtful purse to her lips that suggested that though she was nested on the couch in a pile of blankets (what was it with this Earth woman and coverings?) her mind was far away. 

“How’s your wrist?” Vegeta asked, because he could think of nothing else to say.

Bulma jolted, blinking in his direction with a shade of red rising in her cheeks. “Oh. Hi, Vegeta. I didn’t see you there.”

“I’m exceptionally quiet,” he said. 

“And humble.” She laughed at her own joke, which he didn’t appreciate. Then, “Those clothes fit you really well. How was training in them?”

“Fine.”

“And the bots? No misfires today?”

“No.” 

“And your conversational skills? Any improvement there?”

A beat of silence. “What?” 

Bulma shook her head, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Are you going to bed?”

“Maybe,” Vegeta said. “Why?”

“I was thinking of putting on a new movie I haven’t seen before. I don’t want to watch it alone and you’d be the perfect companion.”

“Why not alone?” 

“It’s scary.” She wriggled her fingers at him, as if trying to spook him. A full-blooded Saiyan and a prince to boot! What a joke. 

“I don’t understand the appeal of the television,” Vegeta intoned, waving a dismissive hand at the screen. “But if you need a companion, I will stay untilI resume my training.”

“You’re not sleeping tonight?” Bulma asked, but her eyes were on the television as she used the remote to change channels. 

“I’ll sleep later.” 

“Sit,” she said without looking, using her casted hand to pat the couch next to her. “May as well rest while you can, since you seem so determined to run your body into the ground.” 

“A Saiyan’s body adapts and improves only under intense pressure,” he said loudly, perching on the edge of the couch. The furthest he could get from her. 

“Yes, that’s also how bodies die,” Bulma said in a sleek voice. The television screen went black before lighting up with the movie title. 

“Horror in the Night?” he read aloud over the buildup of creepy music. “What’s this about?”

“Killer clowns.”

“I thought Kakarot wasn’t on Earth right now.”

“Ha, ha,” she said. “Shut up and watch.” 

Vegeta’s interest in the movie was negligible through the first bit, until people started getting hacked to bloody, dramatic deaths by clowns with axes. The clever way the clowns sprung traps on unsuspecting victims had him nodding along. 

“We did something similar on Planet Kioba,” he commented. “Afterwards we had to drain the natives because their bodies decomposed in a way that - ” Glancing over at Bulma, he saw her fingers covering her eyes as she shuddered. “What?” he boomed, aghast at her sensitivity. “It was only a beheading!” 

“Yes, well, pardon me for not reveling in bloodshed!” she shot back. Between her fingers he saw the peep of blue eyes. 

“For a woman that has followed Kakarot around for much of her life, your stamina is pathetic!” Vegeta turned back to the television, just in time to watch an arm get hacked off. 

“Goku wasn’t killing people!” Bulma said. 

“You wanted to watch this movie, didn’t you?” He reached over with a grunt, tugging her hand away from her face. “Steel yourself, woman! You’ll see worse one day if you are so insistent on being involved in our fights.”

“Oh, shove it.” For added measure Bulma smacked his hand away. 

“Why did you insist on this?” Vegeta asked with a frown. 

“Horror movies are just…distracting.” With an ashen face she waved a hand at the screen, then winced at a clown’s smile of jagged, bloodstained teeth. 

“Distracting? From what?” 

“Oh, gosh.” She closed her eyes while the clown tore into the severed arm. 

“The clown is an idiot,” Vegeta declared. “Does he not know the human is behind him?” 

“Obviously not,” Bulma said. “You know we can’t sense energy, right?” 

“Pathetic excuse.” His words were drowned out by screams from the dying clown. The human had bested it, and in a particularly glorious, gorey way. Unfortunately the scene didn’t save his armless, dying friend, and Vegeta scoffed while the hero cried over the corpse. “Now what?” he asked. “The enemy is dead. Though if you ask me, the clown was a worthy hero in his own right.”

“He’s going to take revenge on all clowns,” Bulma explained. Her eyes were open again at the lull in violence, twisting the frayed edges of a blanket between her fingers. “The climax will be him versus the final, most dangerous clown of all and…one of them will kill the other.” 

“If you know all that, why watch the movie?”

“For the experience,” she said with a savage look. 

“Oh, right,” Vegeta nodded. “The distraction. Have you ever considered that you’d be better served distracting yourself by training?”

“Says the man who has no other hobbies,” she muttered. 

“Hobbies are for pasty low-lifes who live in decrepit states of subjugation or false peace! We Saiyans have a mightier cause to fight for! And we have many hobbies,” he added, more interested in the precise shape of Bulma’s pursed lips than the movie. “For your information, Saiyans aren’t just known for being the universe’s best fighters. We’ve cultivated reputations for our other skills as well.”

“Being annoying?” she asked with an arched brow. 

Vegeta had shifted his position on the couch without thinking, resting an arm over the top cushion and staring beadily at the woman across from him. “It’s easiest to remember as the three F’s,” he informed her, holding up one finger. “Fighting.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

He held up a second finger to join the first. “Feasting.”

“The grocery bill is proof of that.”

“And the one is fu - ” The word didn’t come out of his mouth. Vegeta snapped his lips shut, teeth rattling through his skull with heat that could rival the Omni-Centuri Supergiant. 

What had gotten him here, precisely? Not just on a couch in the company of a frail human, but speaking openly. Of his heritage, of his people. And of…

Well, he wasn’t about to utter the word. 

“And what?” Bulma asked, but a sly tilt to her sudden smile made him believe that she already knew.

“Never mind,” he muttered, and twisted back to face the television. 

“I already know you’re good at fighting,” she said in a contemplative sort of way. So she wasn’t about to let that one go. Vegeta ground his teeth together. “And I’ve seen you eat. So the only question is…”

Don’t ask it, don’t ask it…

“Are you as good at the…well, you know, as you are the other two?” 

She couldn’t know how shriveled up he felt on the inside. How embarrassing. Thankfully the only light was from the television screen and so she wasn't likely to see the red in his cheeks. And neck. The twinkle in her eye made him feel as though he were floundering, caught up in currents he couldn’t fight against, couldn’t defeat. He would rather die than admit any of this, naturally, and so Vegeta did the first thing that came to his harried mind in that tense moment. 

He took the offense. 

“Why do you ask?” He narrowed a look her way. “Do you want to find out?” 

It was hard to tell which of her tics gave her away first. The parting of her lips, the lift of her eyebrows, the pink suffusing the pale skin of her face. The clenching of her fingers on the blanket, frayed ends forgotten. 

“You,” Bulma blustered. So she was going with angry. Vegeta could sigh in relief - he could handle angry. “You - salacious - predatory - ”

“Watch the movie, woman,” he barked. Anything to put the conversation to bed. Er, rest. She huffed, crossed her arms much like he did, and stuck her nose up in the air. Holding back a smile at the clear victory for him (and when he’d felt so outmaneuvered by her interest!) Vegeta was scarcely paying attention to the movie until a clown leapt out of shadows on the screen with the screech of voices and music that clanged through his ears.

Adrenaline surged through his veins, bringing up an instinctual “Ah!” that billowed from his mouth to echo through the room. His arms had flown up in defense to shield himself, energy pulsing into a strong build in his palm before he realized that Bulma was laughing. 

Laughing.

“Serves you right,” she wheezed, clutching her chest. “If you’d been watching instead of coming onto me you would’ve seen him stalking the guy!” 

“It’s not my fault!” Vegeta snapped, suppressing his energy in one swift breath and lowering his arms to his sides. Yet his fingers clenched on the armrest of the couch, the frame creaking under his strength. “I’m not so easily startled in real life. I simply cannot sense energy on television. That tactic of sneaking up behind would never work on me.”

“Of course not,” Bulma shook her head, but her smile wasn’t cruel. 

“Movies are stupid,” he declared. 

“I love movies.” 

“Says the woman keeping her eyes closed.” 

“I want to be distracted, but I don’t want nightmares,” she said reasonably. 

“Ha!” 

He could think of nothing else to say. But his mind didn’t remain on Bulma and her curiosity or her ‘distractions,’ instead calculating the positions of the characters on screen. Their battle plans were pathetic - if those impulsive choices they made could be counted as such. A small amount of preparation might have saved the hero’s life, in the end, and Vegeta was sure of the alternative plan he cooked up in his own mind. 

“Well.” Bulma broke the silence when the movie ended with a final shot of the clown with its crimson-stained ax, turning slowly to stare at the audience. It wouldn’t last five seconds against Vegeta, he was sure. “Thank you for staying. I guess.” 

Her earlier blush was long gone, as was most of the color in her face. 

“They could have tracked the clowns by their footprints alone,” Vegeta stated. “Then they would have known the enemies position, their number, even the sizes of the clowns based on how deep their weight imprinted in the dirt. A counterattack could have easily been launched from the upper levels of that house, giving the humans leverage.” 

“I’m sure that’ll help me sleep tonight,” Bulma said.

“As it should.” He couldn’t help puffing out his chest a little. “Especially knowing a master tactician lives under your roof.”

“And eats all my snacks. By the way, you ate the last of the potato chips.”

“So?” Vegeta demanded. Her bottom lip stuck out in response. 

“I wanted them.”

”Buy more!” 

Bulma threw off her blankets, jolting him with the sight of her pajamas. Again. The ones that didn’t cover her smooth, shapely legs. The billowing air scent a sweet, deliciously-Bulma scent his way, and without thinking Vegeta craned his neck back, breathing deep. His eyes didn’t quite roll back in his skull, but some muscles twitched and fluttered as if responding to something out of his control. 

“You’re impossible,” she said. Flounced right in front of him, her rear about twelve inches from his face until she’d left the living room. 

He remained where he was until he heard a door shut far away. She was in her bedroom, then. He exhaled slowly, muscles intensing and fingers unwinding from the fists he’d made. 

He shouldn’t have brought it up. The three F’s. He shouldn’t have even considered it. Shouldn’t have put that third one anywhere near his consciousness. Not when it could so easily distract him from his true calling, his true destiny. Saiyans weren’t known for multi-tasking. He knew the danger of entertaining thoughts that might steer him away from his ascension. 

Irritably - because he should’ve gone the moment the movie ended - Vegeta stalked out of the dome for the training pod. 

Bulma had been right about the distraction. And now he needed his own.

[survivingthelonelylife-blog]

Woe is mine and I am woe - Part 8

Wednesday x Enid 

Full Work

“Why are we hiding here Wednesday?”

“Quiet, Pugsley will hear you.”

Pugsley walks into the room and sits on his bed. I pull the string hanging down and watch as a bowling ball drops from the ceiling about to land on his unknowing head. Enid gasps and to my dismay Pugsley moves at the noise right before the ball crushes his skull, instead landing on his bed and bouncing to hit him in the back. He doubles over and cries out. At least there was still some satisfaction in the attempt. I look over to see Enid covering her mouth but staring at me with a mix of concern and anger. We return to my room silently.

“Wednesday you could have killed him!”

“But I didn’t.”

“That’s not the point! You were trying to and did hurt him!”

“I fail to see why you are becoming upset. I’m just ensuring he toughens up a bit.”

Enid smiles ever so slightly and attempts to stifle a laugh again covering her mouth. Before she can respond Pugsley walks in.

“Wednesday, will you come play?” I look at him with pure disdain.

“Of course, we will Pugsley!” Enid answers for us and now my look has changed recipients.

Hours later Enid return from the woods with Pugsley in tow sadly still alive and unharmed.

“Why did you leave the game? We were having so much fun.”

“The overwhelming glee being shared nearly suffocated me. Plus, I needed time to write. It seems my writing time has been severely cut into recently.”

Pugsley stops next to Enid, “Thank you Enid! Maybe tomorrow you can show me some wolf tricks?”

Enid turns and puts her arm around his shoulder, “Anything for you Pugsley,” she responds with a smile before Pugsley hugs her and runs off towards the house.

The following two days are much of the same. Enid scolding me for tormenting Pugsley. I am beginning to like the sound of her disapproval. Pugsley taking Enid to play in the woods for hours. Me finally having time alone to read and continue writing my newest installment of my series. And family dinner where we suffer the constant admiration and sickening displays of affection between my parents. The house is being prepared for the forthcoming party and with every mention of it I can tell Enid is growing more nervous.

“What if your family doesn’t like me?”

“They are an ever-growing hoard of psychopaths, misfits, monsters, and more. You are a werewolf. They are predisposed to like you. And not all live as void of color as we do.”

“Oh, okay. Will there be dancing?”

“Inevitably so.”

“You were such a good dancer at the Raven, can you teach me some moves.”

My confused look must register with her, “Please Wednesday! I just want to fit in.”

“Fine,” I huff. This may be an unseen opportunity.

I get up and place a record to play; a Spanish tango begins to play out. Mi buenos aires querido…Cuando yo te vuelva a ver…no habra mas penas ni olvido. I approach Enid and take her waist with less hesitation than would have filled me in the past, pulling her impossibly close to me. She gasps and looks me in the eyes with shock, those big puppy dog eyes filled with everything I don’t understand but crave to know.

As the rhythm begins to pick up, I take her hand in mine and begin to lead her slowly through the steps. One step forward for me and one backwards for her. Forward and backwards, over, and over. She begins to get a hang of the moves and I start to add steps seeing if I can get her to trip up. She steps on my feet and stumbles a little but each time she returns to my arms. Faster I lead her around the room as she laughs. I cannot hold back my smile, nor can I deny that the feel of her dancing with me, her smell, her hand in mine, her face mere inches from my own, all of it is intoxicating. With the last lines of the song, I spin her around and pull her back into me. The song stops but I cannot pull myself away. She stares at me like she can see into the depths of my soul. I wonder what terrors she can see. She does not seem afraid and for once that does not bother me. In her eyes I see the pain of the last weeks, but still there is hope and brightness covering all else, her resiliency would make her hold up fairly well under torture. I am acutely aware of her hand on my arm, then touching my cheek.

“I never knew you had dimples,” she whispers.

Her mouth is so close I can smell her strawberry Chapstick. Just like the first time we kissed. I can’t take my eyes from her lips.

“Wednesday?”

I hardly hear her soft whisper. My head is spinning. I must have acknowledged her as I hear her take a deep breath and pull myself back into reality when I see her lips moving again.

“Can I…can I kiss you?”

I look again to her eyes, her deep ocean eyes, I could easily drown in them. I don’t answer, I am in this moment paralyzed by the weight of my own thoughts for her. I snap to reality as there is a sharp knocking at the door. Quickly I pull myself out of her embrace and step away just as mother enters my room. I can read her face, she must suspect.

“Girls, I just wanted to make sure you had outfits for the party tomorrow. I am taking Pugsley to town in the morning, would you like to come along?”

“I should be okay, thank you Mrs. Addams.”

“We are fine mother.” The annoyance in my voice clearly shows.

“Alright, well if you change your minds, we will be leaving after breakfast. Goodnight darlings.”

Slowly she backs out of the room staring at me while she shuts the door.

“We should get to bed.” I say without looking back at Enid.

“Oh, I guess so. Well goodnight, Wednesday.”

“Enid.”

[catboynalgas]

soy la gata bajo la lluvia

I can't remember the last time I was in love... I remember moments when I was loved, but not the last time... it's been a while.

im amazed at how difficult it has been to find love, romantic love. is it really this hard to find someone that cares about you the same as you do them? or is it me? am I not good enough to be loved? to be wanted?

for more than a year i have been trying to better myself, to be the best version of me that I can be. and its been really rewarding, im able to do things that I never imagined I could actually do, and there's still so much I want to do! however, i think ive reached a wall... there's no one i can really share these things with. I can share my endeavors with my friends, or talk about it at work, or post about things online but nothing beats the feeling of doing something and receiving a hug right after or getting a kiss as a thank you, feeling that burst of pride from someone you love... that has to be one of the most rewarding things you can experience.

Im very conflicted about this, because on the one hand, without my loneliness I wouldn't have tried or picked up half the shit im into right now, but now that im here, its my loneliness that stops me from moving forward. it takes up so much space in my head that it immobilizes me some days. but again, being able to be with myself and truly enjoy my company is one of the coolest things ive learned to do recently. I go out on my own and have days where all i do is sit with my thoughts, listen to music i love and discover new music, try different food, etc etc etc... point is that love and loneliness are both things that are so complicated and can be both rewarding and devastating.

I have learned to wait for things. no app can fill my heart with love, and no app can cure my loneliness, if i must sit and wait forever to love and be loved again that's what I'll do. i'll fall in love with the idea of being in love, and when i inevitably get lonely, ill look toward those who have been there for me, past and present and continue for them. today i may have felt lonely, but maybe i wont feel that tomorrow... i guess i have to wait and see.

[aylin-hybison]

That Rui kasa fanfic part 2

part1: https://www.tumblr.com/aylin-hybison/737289447761182720/i-like-ruikasa-too-heres-a-silly-ittle-ruikasa?source=share

summery:

Ruikasa royal au

Rui… what was he doing? Or… more precisely… what had he done? That was his own father! How could he? But… at the same time… would Tsukasa have done the same, if he had seen the truth? Probably not. 

“Rui… why? Why? Did you do it intentionally, to help me? My kingdom? Or my father? Did you do it solely to help your people? Do your people not fear us? I fear war, and I am a prince with guards. Rui… why?” Tsukasa whispered as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror.

“Compose yourself. You have all that you need.”

—-———————————————————————————————————————————

“Father, I have the information from the crown prince.” Tsukasa announced.

“Tell me.”

Tsukasa relayed all the information Rui told him to his father, all but the stories of Rui’s childhood. And the fact that he had drugged his own father, to help his people.

“Thank you, Tsukasa. Tell the guards to announce that Rui Kamishiro, crown prince, shall be executed on the morning of the next day, at the rise of dawn. And you, child, shall have the honour of executing him.”

“...yes, Father.  Thank you, Father.”

As Tsukasa was walking to the guards post, he felt… a slight sense of sadness, pity and … another feeling he couldn’t name.

What was going on with him? What was going on with Rui?

—-———————————————————————————————————————————

“Okay,” the guard replied after Tsukasa informed him of the announcement.

Tsukasa nodded at him and walked towards his room. His room, where Rui was.

—-———————————————————————————————————————————

“You’re here.” Tsukasa said upon seeing Rui sitting on the floor, free from his chains. “Why are you…”

“Why am I not in chains? They were too tight, and poorly bound, for your information, so I just got out of them.”

“If you could escape these chains, why didn’t you escape, or try to escape?”

“How did you know I didn’t try and fail to escape?”

Tsukasa gave Rui a pointed look.

“Fine, I didn’t because… there’s no point. Where would I go if I were to escape? My kingdom is yours, I have no family, what am I supposed to do?”

“You could have tried to start a revolution?”

“Thanks for the advice, but my people hate me, and the royal family. They think we’re all corrupted and evil, and they’re not to far from the truth.”

“That can’t be true-”

“No, it is. Even if you hadn’t so barbarically invaded my country, the people would revolt sooner or later. It’s kind of inevitable.”

“...”

“...”

“You could have lived.”

“...Tsukasa, I don’t think you get it. My life has been fulfilled, or as much as it can be I don’t want to live anymore, especially if I have no purpose. My people will be happier under you and your father’s rule, I trust you.”

“...oh.” 

“Oh, and tell me, when will I be executed, so I at the very least have something to look forward to.

“...tomorrow. At the crack of dawn.”

“Why is it so early? I suppose they have to make sure everyone is so sleepy nobody will remember the bloodshed.”

“I’ll be the one to end you and your family’s life.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.”

“That’s great!” Rui leaned in to whisper to Tsukasa, covering the sides of his mouth like he was sharing some sort of intimate secret, and said, “Make my parent’s death extra painful for my people, will you?”

“...sure.” Honestly, Tsukasa felt… numb. He really didn’t know what to say.

“Hey, Tsukasa, look at me! Don’t blank out!”

“You’ll be taken to the dungeons soon.” Tsukasa stated.

“That’s so sad. Hey! Hey! Tsukasa, are you there?”

“If it’s any comfort to you, I’ll make your death quick.”

“... Tsukasa. Are you listening to me? Of course not. And you don’t even know how much I have sinned. Kill me in the same way you kill my parents. I hate pain, but this is my own way of repenting for what I have done.”

“What have you done? And aren’t you afraid of death? Or pain?”

“We’re sure asking a lot of questions today. Yes, of course I’m afraid of death, afraid of the judgment that comes after death, of the pain of death… only a fool would not be afraid of the darkness that lies beyond. But oh, would you hear that, the guards are coming to take me. I better get back into these chains lest they suspect something, shall I?”

“...you should.”

“Help me, will you?”

Silently, Tsukasa bound the chains around Rui once again and secured them in place.

“Ow, not so hard! That’s too tight! Tsukasa, can’t you be a slight bit more gentle? You don’t want to accidentally kill me now, do you? Hey, are you there? Fine, if you like the peace, I’ll shut up.”

—-———————————————————————————————————————————

“Prince? We’re here to take the Kamishiro off your hands. May we enter?”

“You may.”  Tsukasa replied.

—-———————————————————————————————————————————

Rui was brought to the dungeons. Tsukasa was left all alone.

—-———————————————————————————————————————————

Tsukasa went through the rest of the day as per normal, but everything suddenly felt… emptier. Colder, quieter. He didn’t know why, but it seemed like a part of him was missing.

—-———————————————————————————————————————————

When he went back to his room to sleep at night, he noticed a note left on his desktop.

He read the note. The note was written a rushed scrawl, but a nonetheless readable handwriting.

“Oh. So that’s what you did. Really, Rui? Really? Rui…”

—-———————————————————————————————————————————

My dearest darling Tsukasa:

I don’t have much time to write this. I just want you to know the atrocities I have commited, because I can’t bring myself to tell you, and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t tell someone the things I have done.

I killed my own people. I drugged my father. I stole from my own family. 

I killed my own soldiers so you could win this war.

I drugged my father so you wouldn’t be hurt.

I stole from my family’s food for random strangers in the streets.

I will burn in hell once I die, but I can at least rest in the knowledge that my father will be there with me. 

And Tsukasa, I don’t even know why I did all of this

At first, it was only for my people, a pure, undiluted, innocent motive. Then I heard of you. And I thought you could save my kingdom. I hadn’t even met you, then, but I had so much hope that you would save my people. 

I hear your people are happy. Perhaps my people will be happy if I surrender them to you. Perhaps I have saved them. Or… perhaps I have doomed them. Tsukasa, you will one day take over. I am begging you, be a good ruler. I do not wish to meet my people in the underworld.

Sincerely, and confused, and upset, but hopeful,

Rui Kamishiro

—-———————————————————————————————————————————

“Rui… I’ll try my best. Rui…”

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/aylin-hybison/737322769326440448/so-i-finished-the-ruikasa-fanfic-by-not-touching?source=share

[chasing-rabbits]

My body hates me & I’m getting tired of the chronic fatigue and pain from doing normal people things.

Worst part is usually I’ll just resign myself to the fact I’m gonna sleep 10 plus hours a night, fuck my sleeping up to still feel fatigued & incapable of doing anything but the bare minimum if that & knowing that all of this will inevitably screw over my mental health - which is largely down to the fact it fucks with my sleeping pattern until I’m eventually up all night asleep all day.

But it’s Christmas and I have things to do, I had things to do and our dishwasher is broken so we have even more things to do. So now I’m Sleeping 10 plus hours a day, fucking up my sleep pattern & all of the above without an end in sight because instead of this cycle lasting for a couple days week max it’s just continual because I’m not getting the rest my body needs. I’m just pushing it more & more. Now I’m at the point where the bare fucking minimum is pushing my body over the edge especially cos standing to wash the dishes fucks w/ my back & legs.

We went to see Hozier Wednesday and it was REALLY good but it was in Birmingham so travel which fucked me up but it was worth it. Since getting back though I’ve been unable to do much including cooking so we’ve relied on takeout more than I’d like. Tomorrow I’ve got to go xmas shopping. Something I was/am looking forward to but also my legs ache so much I don’t think I can handle much walking. Good news most presents can be gotten from one shop but it means I won’t get to enjoy just looking around. It’s a really big shopping centre, but I’m sure I’ll still enjoy it.

[mikerichardson2023]

Week 8

I had a most productive week. I was able to manage the fallout of my PTSD spelling well and accomplish a lot in a brief time; although I am behind in some things like this post I will be caught up after its posting. I caught up on personal matters that required attention like bills and laundry. I also had a work event which I performed extremely well at. The Veterans History Project hosted a community story day where we conducted multiple oral history recordings for veterans. I was able to interview two veterans. One of them was a 104-year-old Air Force veteran that served during WW2. Recording his history was cathartic and empowered me to work hard on my Internship Project. I was reminded that I am a historian and have come a long way in professionalization of multiple aspects of this field. I was eager to continue my work in Digital History.

After the work I accomplished today I am 85% complete with the charting aspect of my project. Amongst other states I was able to finish North and South Carolina; two states with a larger number of schools to chart. I have only one section of states remaining in the chart. The states are Texas, Tennessee, Virginia and West Virginia. After reviewing the map, most schools located in Virginia and West Virginia have already been charted. Before I discovered the list, I am currently working on I found a concise list containing academic institutions; these are the bulk of schools located in these areas. However, Tennessee and Texas remain blank. I am looking forward to completing these states and giving the map a sense of solidarity. When I look at the map now it is clear that these states are the only ones remaining because all other states in the region are complete. It is extraordinary to see the sheer number of schools that emerged during the era of progress and promise.

At this point of the project, I have less than 53 schools remaining to chart. I think my goal tomorrow will be to sit down and dedicate no less than two hours of dedicated work to completing the remaining states. If I can complete the list before this week is over then I will be able to focus on the auxiliary aspects of the project, they will provide a sense of completion. I want to have time to add details like dates, color coding, and consistent grammar. Once I have completed these aspects of the project it will be presentable and the work that will be remaining will be quality assurance. I look forward to this phase because I will be able to concentrate and prepare for the Historiography paper and Internship showcase at the end of the Summer.

The inspirational school I wanted to include this week is Mayesville Industrial and Educational Institute in Mayesville, South Carolina. It was established and run by Emma Jane Wilson, an African American female. Wilson founded the Mayesville Institute after graduating from Scotia Seminary. What is extraordinary is this school supports itself for the first ten years without funding support. Over time, like many other schools, it became incorporated into the public school system. I found the address through research. It was incorporated into an elementary school which was inevitably closed. In the future aspect of this project, this school will be instrumental as an example. This school stopped being significantly related to the era of progress and promise once it was incorporated into the public school system. The ability of this institution to support itself for a decade is exemplary of the era of progress and promise.

[curespectra]

This actually could kinda work....but I'd like to add this to the table (as a child of divorced parents myself).

Have it, so no matter what, Ben and Kai still divorce. But each time Kenny keeps trying to change things, the straw that breaks the camel's back is different.

One return could be that they divorced because Kai accused Ben of putting hero work over spending time with her and especially Kenny. Missing one too many important events in Kenny's life. (Be it a sporting event or a school play, or even a concert)

While another return has it be the result of Ben feeling like Kai never has his (and Kenny's) back when her side of the family treats him like trash (either insulting is occupation, his personality, his intelligence level, his family, etcetera). Because every time they do so; Kai either acts like it didn't happen or she laughs along with these "good-hearted jabs." He handles it fine at first by not giving them the satisfaction they crave.

..... Until they start hurting Kenny just to get Ben to crack.

Everything he does always leads to Ben and Kai splitting up. Some timelines have Kai getting out of a loveless toxic relationship with Ben. Some have Ben getting out of a loveless toxic relationship with Kai. Many and I mean MANY, have the two simply falling out of (romantic) love and divorce amicably.

Kenny is distraught at first. No matter what he does.... his family is going to fall apart. He starts crying, breaking things like vases or lamps, tearing pillows,and shredding notebooks. Just to get things out of his system. It works a little, but he still feels like a failure. He couldn't save his parent's loving marriage.

That's when a slow clap is heard from behind Kenny after his breakdown. He turns to see Professor Paradox with a small smile on his face. Looking at all the huge mess Kenny made, all he says at first is, "Are you done yet?"

Kenny then gets furious again. Believing that Paradox is here to rub in that he can't fight fate and he has to stop trying to delay the inevitable outcome. And in a way; he is... but this time, Paradox decides to take a different approach. First thing he does is point out that no relationship is constantly perfect, and it's normal people fall out of romantic love. Kenny isn't moved by this, but he's at least listening. Paradox sees this, and then he says something along the lines of:

"Outside of the divorce, what did all of those changes have in common? Well, the answer is quite simple. Your parents still love you, and that will never change."

Kenny then goes back to all of those times that he altered the results and realizes what Paradox says is true. Ben and Kai love him. Lots of timelines involve them one way or another divorcing for his sake. Even the ones where they divorce amicably.

They won't be Husband and Wife anymore, but they'll always be Mom and Dad

With that realization; he decides to stop trying to force the "happy nuclear family" and be happy with the family he currently has.

(Which for my desire for Kenny to have a happy ending of sorts will be an amicable divorce timeline)

He goes home to find his father happily greeting him and asking him what he wants to order for dinner. With that question, he now knows that it's Friday. Which means he's going to see his mom tomorrow and spend the weekend with her. Ben sees that his son seems to be deep in thought and asks him if he's alright. Did his son have a bad day at school? Kenny snaps out of his thoughts and tells him that he's fine. He's just thinking about what kind of plans he should make with his mom.

Ben smiles and asks, "You looking forward to seeing her tomorrow?

Kenny smiles back and answers with, "Yeah, I really am."

Ya know while watching this video, in my head I was thinking why was Spanner (Ken) trying so hard to get Ben and Kai together. And then I came up with this headcanon/theory: Ben 10K and Kai are getting a divorce in the future. They have been bickering and arguing with each other for a long time and have not felt any love for each other since forever, these two felt like their relationship was falling apart and thought it was best to part ways. This can be pretty traumatizing and scary for a kid so that’s why he did everything in his power to make his parents stay together even if it meant going back in time before they got together. He hoped that forcing them to pair up in the past would fix their future.

Ken, well in this case, Spanner brings up their favorite snack and how they share it together maybe because it was something they did in the past before their relationship down hill. I know a child would do anything to keep their parents together (I knew I would). But even so you shouldn’t do something like that, it just might make matters worse. (Plus it felt very forced and unnecessary in the episode and no one liked that. 😬)

Another headcanon I have is that he tried to pair up his parents multiple times until Paradox stopped him, saying stuff like you shouldn’t mess with time like that and you might ripple something. Ken feels frustrated, hopeless, and devastated that his parents will eventually separate and he can’t do anything about it. Anyways thanks for coming to TED talk. 👋🏾

[ladymarycrawley]

Forehead kisses in Monaco part 2 - Mason Mount

Request: Could you write a part 2 of forehead kisses in monaco where both of them arrive home and have a lazy day/night before mason have to go with the england squad

Warning: Mason being the sweetest boyfriend ever, cause we’ll never get over Monaco Mason.

You can read part 1 here

Tag list: @masonxomount @chelsealover

It was safe to say that second night in Monaco you had one of the best nights of your life: Mason made love to you so passionately yet so softly you thought you were dreaming, that what you were living wasn't real.

It was as if you were relaxed enough to face the third and last day of the F1 weekend.

As soon as the race finished, you took the plane back to London where you're going to have a night all to yourselves to unwind before Mason would have gone away with England for the Nations League.

As soon as you set foot into your house, he abandoned himself on your dark sofa, with a loud sigh 

“Fuck, i just need at least another weekend to recover from this one” Your boyfriend mumbled, running his hand over his tired features.

“What time will you have to get up tomorrow?”

“6 am” He whined while saying it “That’s so early”

“Poor baby” You tried to suppress a laugh, he looked so cute, his slight despair always made you laugh.

You took a seat beside him, your chin against his chest, as your face was pointing upwards towards his.His fingers kept on rubbing his eyes that were struggling to stay open due to all the tiredness built up.

“I know you’re making fun of me” He looked at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I could never! I just want to help my baby relax before all the important duties ahead”

You pecked his chin, a mischievous smile appearing on your lips, signalling some good idea had just crossed your mind.

“What do you think if I run you a nice, hot, bubbly bath?”

“Are you part of the bath or what?” You giggled, kissing his jaw.

“Maybe, I’ll join you later”

“What do you mean later?”

“I mean you start getting in the tub while I arrange a few things and, if you behave, I’ll join you”

"Are those things you have to deal with more important than your poor, needy, weary boyfriend?"

"Nothing is more important than you"

"So?? Are you in?"

"Come on, stop being a baby" You got up holding his hand in yours to try and get him up from the sofa so you could show him to the bathroom. 

"The tub is too big for me alone"

"Stop whining, Mount. I'll join you in a bit"

"Pinky promise?"

You shook your head giggling; when Mason was tired he'd always turned into a big baby, clingier than ever, who couldn't bear to be left alone.

You stretched out your pinky to intertwine it with his so you could make the deal.

Seeing Mason getting undressed was something you know there was no turning back, it would lead to the most lusty thungs ever. So you left the bathroom as soon as you saw him taking off his t-shirt. 

Not even ten minutes went by when you heard him shouting your name.

"What??"

"Come here! I feel abandoned!" 

You giggled as he was being the biggest drama king ever.

"Let me finish this thing and I'll be there!"

"You said it even 10 minutes ago!"

You huffed not being able to hold back a smile and walked up the stairs to go to the bathroom.

"I'm here, happy now?"

"Join me and I'll be happier"

The eye-roll was inevitable but you didn't mind as you really wanted to have a bath with him.

Mason shifted forwards so as to leave room for your body behind him: he clearly wanted to be the little spoon.

You smiled and entered the tub, wrapping your arms around his shoulder while he positioned himself between your legs that he soon placed over his.

"Are you happy now, whiny baby?" You whispered before placing a kiss on his cheekbone. 

"Yes. I'm the happiest whiny baby in the world"

His line made you laugh, as he smiled against your arm skin before pressing a lingering kiss there.

From that moment on a comfortable silence filled the room, only the sound of each other's kisses every now and then could be heard.

Your kisses and repeated brushes against Mason's skin made a sleep-inducing effect on him.

"Mase? Mase? Mason?"

You leant forward a bit to see him snoring peacefully with his head against your shoulder. 

A smile appeared as the most natural thing to ever grace your features. He looked like an angel who was quietly sleeping in your arms. You carefully took his face in your hands and brushed your lips against his jaw.You went on cuddling him even while he was asleep. 

An hour later, as he slowly came back from Morpheus' arms, his lips soon curved into a smile when he felt your fingers against his skin. He sweetly kissed your finger pads.

"Hey are you alive?"

He nodded, still smiling, as he tried to stretch his weary limbs out.

"I didn't even realise I fell asleep"

"Yeah I can tell" You quickly massaged his scalp before getting out of the tub.

"Come on, it's getting cold now" You said as you offered Mason your hand to help him get out. 

You got dressed for the night as you had to go to get something ready for dinner, while your boyfriend didn't have the slight intention to do nothing as he laid on your bed with only his towel wrapped around his waist.

"Mase, do you mind if we order some takeout?"

"Not at all babe, what do you wanna eat? I'm not an option"

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you leant against the doorframe. 

"Hawaiian bowls?"

"Fine…why don't you come here with me?"

"Let me order some food first"

He groaned in disappointment as he saw you fading away down the stairs.

The laziness and the tiredness you shared that night was so much you decided to have your meal in bed, a thing you would usually avoid.

You put on some reality on tv as Mason was sitting with his back against the headboard while you, in turn, had your back resting against his chest.

Mason's clinginess showed no sign of stopping as he couldn't stop touching you: his hands were softly placed on your thighs as his lips would place soft kisses on your head and temple every now and then.

"Do you really have to go?" You asked him out of the blue.

"Yeah baby, that's work" He smiled tenderly, grazing your chin with his thumb.

"I'll miss you like crazy"

"I know babe, I'll miss you too. It's just two weeks then we'll be together again"

And that was your time to fall asleep without even realising it, cuddled against his chest and lulled by the calm beating of his heart and his fingers touching you as you were the most fragile crystal.

"Good night my love. I love you" He mumbled against your forehead before turning off the tv.

You smiled as you heard those words as he thought you were fast asleep. He was the best thing that could ever happen in your life.

[queenshelby]

Fan with Benefits (Part Two)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 2,229

Warning: Smut

Notes: As usual, this is fiction and has nothing to do with Cillian’s real life.

Just after you gotten of the phone with Cillian, your friend and roommate Katherine asked you who it was and, when you told her, it almost blew her mind.

‘He is coming here? Oh my god’ she said almost shocked before asking you the all-important question as to whether you wanted her to leave when he did.

‘It’s fine. He is just coming here to sign the paperwork for the artwork he is buying’ you explained.

‘To your apartment? Common, don’t be so naïve. It’s a booty call’ Katherine said and you surely hoped that it was, although you didn’t want to get your hopes up. After all, you knew that he was married.

After a bit more conversation, Katherine convinced you to be prepared, freshly shaved and showered and told you that she would leave at around 6 o’clock.

***

At 4 o’clock you attended your usual yoga class and, in order to save some time, you had a shower at the gym following your class before making your way back home so that you could tidy up and apply some make up.

To your surprise, when you walked into the apartment building, you saw Cillian sit on one of the arm chairs near the elevators.

‘You are early’ you said as you returned.

‘Yes, I am. I ended up getting an earlier flight and texted you’ Cillian then said and you quickly pulled out your phone and realised that he had, indeed, texted you but you didn’t see this message until now.

‘Sorry, I have been out and didn’t check my phone’ you said nervously. You were worried that Katherine had left the apartment in a mess, giving you no chance to tidy up now before Cillian’s arrival.

***

‘Common in’ you said as you reached the second floor of the building and unlocked the door to your apartment. You were impressed that Katherine had not only picked up after herself as promised, but even had left on a couple small lamps to dim the living room slightly.

To your surprise, there also was glassware on the kitchen counter, a fresh bottle of red wine and a packet of condoms which you hoped Cillian wouldn’t notice. You could imagine the inevitable interrogation to ensue the next day, regardless of what happened and you were embarrassed beyond believe.

‘Red wine and condoms?’ Cillian chuckled as he looked towards the kitchen counter and your cheeks turned red immediately and you wanted to sink into the ground.

‘Oh my god. Uhm, this stuff belongs to my roommate’ you explained shyly and nervously, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Are you sure? Because there is a note saying “Y/N, just in case you need them. Have fun”’ Cillian laughed, reading out the little note that Katherine had stuck to the packet of condoms.

‘Uhm, yeah, no, this stuff is hers. I know nothing about this’ you huffed out with total embarrassment.  

‘That’s a shame. I really felt like a glass of wine and perhaps something else as well’ Cillian winked as he placed the packet of condoms and note back onto the kitchen counter.

‘Uhm, well, you can…I mean we can…aren’t you married?’ you then stammered.  

‘My wife doesn’t mind. In fact, I told her about the nice young lady I met at the gallery last night’ Cillian then said, moving closer towards you.

‘So, is this why you are here?’ you asked nervously, biting your lip.

‘I thought that was obvious’ Cillian then chucked and you felt even more embarrassed than before.

You shook your head nervously. It wasn’t obvious to you at all.

‘Well, obviously your friend thought it was obvious’ Cillian then chuckled and, just as he did, one of his hands caressed your cheeks.

‘She did’ you said before taking up all of your courage and leaning forward towards him which is when his lips met yours in a tentative kiss

‘How did you know that I would want to sleep with you?’ you then asked after your lips drifted apart.

‘I didn’t. I was just being hopeful. Although, I saw the way you kept looking at me last night’ he then said as he leaned against you, pressing your shorter frame against the kitchen counter, and kissing you again.

Your mouths were totally connected now.Your tongues were swirling, darting and exploring each other while the kiss refused to end.

His hands were moving up your sides, gently pressing in against the swell of your ample breasts. At the same time, you digged your fingernails into his back and then grabbed hold of his neck, desperately pulling his face closer towards you.

The smell of his chest and cologne was intoxicating and you were lost in a trance. Was this really happening?

***

‘Where is your bedroom Y/N? I am all for comfort’ Cillian chuckled as your lips drifted apart and he pulled four condoms out of the packet Katherine had left on the counter for you.

‘Four? Do we really need that many?’ you asked surprised while Cillian’s fingertips had begun meandering up and down your forearm.

‘Well, as you have already pointed out, I am married so this will be a one-night thing and I really want to make the most of it’ Cillian then whispered into your ear as your skin bristled at the sensation on your arm and you relished his scent.

‘So, I guess I will be sore tomorrow then, hmm?’ you asked seductively, biting your lip.

‘It’s likely, but I will make it worth it for you. Despite, I will make use of all you have to offer so that your already soaking pussy can have a rest in between’ Cillian then said in between more and more kisses while he slid one of his hands beneath your dress and panties, collecting some of your juices with his fingers.  

You couldn’t help but moan and wanted him to keep his hands right there, in between your legs, but he didn’t.

‘Common, I want to taste you’ Cillian then said, taking you by the hand and urging you to show him to your bedroom.

***

Within less than a minute, you found yourself completely naked on your large Queen bed while Cillian stood in front of it, wearing nothing but his tight blue jeans.

You took it all in, his scent, the glow of his freckled skin and the feel of the little bit of hair on his chest.

Never, in your wildest dreams, did you think that you would ever get to have this man and, whilst you were a little inexperienced, you decided that you would let him have it all. All of you, just as he had requested.

‘What are you waiting for Mr Murphy? I am all yours’ you said eagerly, waiting for him on the bed.

‘Just admiring the view’ Cillian said as he was taking off his watch and placing it onto your dresser along with his phone before climbing onto the bed with you.

When he did, you anticipated him to kiss you but he had other things in mind.

‘Spread your legs’ he demanded and, without thought your legs parted and his head disappeared in between them almost eagerly.

Without warning, his tongue immediately located the hood of your clit, causing you to scream out loud.

Your reaction clearly made him smile as, with all of the anticipation and new sensations, a cold sweat beaded up on your brow.

‘So fucking wet, aren’t you?’ Cillian groaned as his tongue kept swirling around your clit and then, occasionally, slid up and down in between your slit, lapping up your juices.

You flooded your channel as Cillian almost sent you over the edge with his skilled tongue alone and, in that moment, two of his fingers slid over your wet folds, slowly parting your well lubricated lips and entered you.

‘Oh my god’ you groaned as your flower opened and the invaders found the way to your previously unexplored g-spot.

He manipulated you, edging you slowly with his thrusting fingers and tongue. He had you on the brink and you were about cum.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you moaned again as chills ran up both your legs and you trembled involuntarily. Your orgasm hit you right then and there, fast and hard and somewhat unexpectedly.

You came all around Cillian’s fingers within five minutes and, whilst you were almost embarrassed by how quick you came, he was rather pleased with himself.

‘So needy. I will have a lot of fun with you’ he observed as you finally came down from your high and allowed you some time to relax.

When you had finally recovered from your intense orgasm, Cillian pulled you off the bed.

Then he took a step closer to you and immediately started undoing his belt buckle and opening his fly. You instinctively dropped to your knees with a smile on your face and as he unzipped his pants you grabbed the waistband of his jeans and his Calvin Klein briefs and began slowly tugging them down.

First you saw his dark pubic hair, then the top of his cock shaft, and as you pulled his bottoms further down his cock sprang forth in all its erect glory. You actually jumped a little when it leaped out at you, a fact that he noticed.

‘Are you going to be a good girl and take my cock all the way into your mouth?’ he asked in a deep voice, sending shivers down your spine.

‘I sure will, after I have a little play with it first’ you replied as you took his cock in your hand eagerly. This was all you had ever fantasised about and wanted to take in everything, the look of it, the feel of it and its scent.

At first you just stroked Cillian’s cock slowly and observed it as it began to swell even more in your hand. You moved in closer to get your other hand on his balls and you could smell his musk. It was intoxicating to you! As you gently massaged Cillian’s testicles you could feel how full they were and you couldn't help it anymore. you needed to taste him.

You stuck out your tongue and licked his shaft from his balls all the way up to the tip. Then you swirled your tongue around the tip a few times as he growled under his breath. Finally, you completely enveloped Cillian’s cock head with your lips and started sucking him. You let lots of saliva dribble out of your mouth to keep the shaft lubricated as you continued to stroke him.

‘Fuck, that’s it’ Cillian groaned as you kept at it, working his shaft with one hand, massaging his balls with the other, and sucking him for several minutes. He had his hands on your head guiding his cock in and out of your mouth.

Eventually, Cillian tightened the grip he had on the back of your head and pushed you further down on his shaft until, finally, he bottomed out against the back of your throat.

You gagged, saliva dripping out of your mouth as the wetness in between your legs was building.

‘You are doing so fucking well’ he groaned again as you gave into his force and let him take your mouth as you were moaning around his thick member.

Eventually, Cillian released his grip against your head and let you get back to work at your own pace, and you continued giving him a slobbery blowjob. This time, you forced yourself further and further down his long shaft, making yourself gag and listening to him groan in approval.

One of your hands kept a firm grip on his balls while the other stroked him up and down in tempo with your head bobbing.

His groans were getting louder and you moaned softly against him, slurping loudly as you moved, letting his cock hit or lightly ease into your throat every time you sank down. You gave him long strides, really making sure all of his cock was getting some form of attention.

‘Fuck’ he murmured, starting to squirm. ‘I am close’ he then groaned and you were really curious what his cum would taste like.

Cillian’s groans and moans just made you work harder. You wanted his orgasm to be nice and intense, so you ramped up the speed and your slurping noises were getting even louder as you milked his cock faster.

Cillian’s hand found its way back to your head, his fingers getting locked in your hair as he got closer and closer until finally, he started to cum.

‘Fuck’ he groaned again as his hips twitched upwards, trying to get deeper into your mouth as he filled it with his load.

‘I want to watch you swallow it Love’ he groaned as he held your head against his cock while he filled your mouth. His cum was so thick and sweet and coated your tongue, making you drool even more as you collected it all in your mouth.

Then, finally, he released the grip on your head and pulled away from you and lifted up your cum filled mouth for him to see.

‘Show me’ he groaned, still coming down from his high and you complied with his request and opened your mouth, moving your cum covered tongue around seductively.

Then, you closed your mouth again and swallowed down his load, gulping slightly as you did before licking your lips clean seductively.

‘So fucking sexy’ Cillian huffed out before pulling you up and towards him.

He pressed his lips onto yours and practically growled, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you ferociously which was when, suddenly, his phone began to ring.

 Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @ @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song i.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher living with your best friend, and have never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader  genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual smut, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, not really much to warn in this first chapter, there’s some flirting, oc doesn’t want to admit she finds seokjin dishy, she’s possibly in denial that there’s a spark there, jimin and soobin appear 🥰 words; 11,028 

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii  • ix • x • epilogue  (+ drabbles)

You hated being late. Not only did you pride yourself on your impeccable time management but sleeping through your alarm always threw you out of whack for the rest of the day. You blamed the annual student reports that had to be written. No matter how organised you were, every year they seemed to sneak up on you and disrupt your prompt 11pm bedtime. You’d been still awake past 1am last night, determined to give each student the report they deserved. The yearly parent-teacher meetings were tomorrow (Friday) and Monday evening; it was officially the end of the school year countdown, which was ironically the most difficult time of the year. 

No wonder your stress levels were so high lately. You felt like a ticking timebomb, wondering what on earth would set you off – because it was inevitable. This morning it could have been a number of things… Your inability to awake when your alarm went off, the fact your clothes were still slightly damp from insufficient drying time, your forgotten lunch still at home in the refrigerator, or now, your current predicament – you couldn’t find a space to park your car. 

You always got to work an hour early, that way you had enough time to get ready for the school day before the student’s turned up and the teacher’s parking lot was empty. You had your pick of spaces. Today however, with just fifteen minutes to spare before class began, you didn’t have much choice. The spot that required you to reverse in between two cars, or the one that was secluded but came with a price – the sun’s hotspot. 

You were stopped idly between the two, mentally making you decision while also damning this day to hell, when suddenly there was a thud and you jerked forwards, a gasp escaping your fallen mouth. Your hands had unconsciously clenched around the steering wheel so you ever so slowly eased up, straightening your back as you caught a look in the rear-view mirror. 

“Oh, my god.” You breathed quietly, reaction time delayed greatly. Shock probably. 

You watched as a black car – twice the size of yours and almost blindingly shiny – pulled away from the side of your vehicle, back into the space they’d just reversed out of. They’d hit you. You’d been hit. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. It wasn’t even 8am. 

There was a clunk of a car door and then a man in a suit came hurrying into view, as fast as he could manage, a look of pure horror on his face. Still on autopilot, you felt your hand reach for the handle of your door, pushing it open to find yourself getting out. 

“Are you okay?” The well-dressed man asked, panic evident in his voice. The very well-dressed man. His suit was a three-piece, black and white houndstooth. It looked expensive. Which just seemed to piss you off for some unexplainable reason. 

You were fine of course, dazed maybe, the blow hadn’t been that serious at all, but that was besides the point. This man, in his very obnoxious suit (even if it did hug his body in extremely cruel ways) had not been concentrating. He’d reversed straight into your poor little car that was no match for his hefty thing. Your shock was shifting. In its place grew anger. 

When you didn’t reply, than man carried on. “I am so sorry, Miss.” An annoying shrill sounded between you both. The cell phone in his hand. He ignored it – or at least tried to. “I really am. I was–” 

He stopped abruptly midsentence, letting out a huff. Whoever was calling him wasn’t relenting. He picked up, talking quickly, an air of authority to his voice that caught your attention. “Kim Seokjin, speaking. Please can I – I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to call you back. There’s been an emergency.” A pause as the person on the other end of the line spoke. They weren’t given much time. “Thank you for understanding. Goodbye.” 

The man – Kim Seokjin apparently – hung up, attention immediately back on you. “I’m just so sorry. Is there any damage?” He made his way over to the place he’d hit, just above your back wheel, crouching down, and grimaced. “Oh god.” 

You followed, coming face to face with the black scratches that now marred the white paint of your vehicle. It wasn’t so bad, he hadn’t sped out of the space, but something had definitely scraped the steel, and again, that was beside the point. He’d still reversed into your car. 

“The bike rack,” he muttered to himself. Your answer. He looked across at his car, brushing a hand through his hair. It stayed perfectly in place, pushed back above his forehead. He was a striking man, you’d give him that. Features made up of, what you could only describe as soft angles. Actually, thinking about it, he was pretty intimidatingly beautiful. That just made you angrier. How dare this stranger unnerve you with his good looks.  

“What happened?” You asked hotly. 

He looked up at you, taken back by your tone, but composed himself fairly quickly. “I-I was distracted for a moment, I didn’t realise–”

“Were you on your phone?”

“I’m sorry?” You looked down at the device still in his hand. On cue it started ringing again. He hit ignore straight away. “No, no. God, no.” He protested, shoving the phone into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He straightened up, head and shoulders above you. You crossed your arms and waited for his explanation, straining as tall as you could get. His cologne smelt amazing, you tried to ignore it. 

“I was – I was trying to get the handsfree to work in this damn car and last time I checked there was no one there.” He seemed flustered. A far cry from the authoritative figure he’d been on the phone call. “I wasn’t thinking, I just backed out –” He stopped, as if he suddenly realised something. “Why… Why were you on stop directly behind me?”

“Excuse me?” You instantly got defensive, hands waving about animatedly as you explained  “I wasn’t stopped, I was trying to find a space.” 

You hadn’t been aware there was someone occupying the vehicle. No one left the staff parking lot in the morning so there was never any worry about somebody reversing into you. This was all on him. He wasn’t going to try and turn it around on you. 

“I’m sorry, but do you even work here?” This school was small, he definitely wasn’t a teacher here, and you doubted he was a substitute. He was too well-dressed for a start. Who the hell was he?!

He looked momentarily confused. “Work here? No.” 

“Then why are you using the teacher’s parking lot?” Your arms were folded across your chest again. 

His eyes widened in horror, realisation setting in. “Oh no. I didn’t realise...” 

“It’s signposted.” His mistake seemed genuine, but that really wouldn’t cut it. Because of his mistake your car was now scratched. You’d have to contact your insurance company and god only knows if they would pay out seeing as the damage was really only cosmetic, and if they did, it would probably take an age. 

“It’s my first time dropping off my daughter at this school. I didn’t know where to go, and I was getting so many phone calls, I was just trying to…” He petered out, realising you probably didn’t care about his morning. So what? He was having a shitty one? So were you! 

“There’s no excuses for this.” He lowered his head in apology. “I’m truly sorry and I feel awful.” 

You found yourself softening. He did sound extremely genuine. You opened your mouth to reply, to accept his apology, but he spoke up again. “Let me sort this out. Money is no object. I can call my mechanic straight away and–”

“There’s no need,” you told him immediately, horror stricken. 

“It’s really no problem.” He insisted. “Come on, if we wait for our insurance companies to sort this out god knows how long it will take. No, I’ll phone the mechanic I use right now and they can come and pick your vehicle up. It’ll be fixed in no time. You won’t have to pay a thing.” 

“No, thank you.” Your anger was growing again. Irritation itching your face. Who did this man think he was? Money didn’t solve everything. Most people didn’t have that luxury. 

“No?” 

His bewilderment made you see red. “I don’t need your help or your money.” 

You could be very stubborn when you wanted to be. You’d been told so throughout your life; family, friends, exes… No, you’d just pay for the repairs yourself. You’d rather wake up late for an eternity than take his money. 

“But I did this.” 

He really wasn’t getting it. “It’s fine, just –” You were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone again. “You’re obviously very busy, just forget about it. It’s a few scratches.” You turned your back to him, glancing at your watch. You had just under two minutes to decide on a parking space and get to your classroom. 

“Wait,” he called out.

“Goodbye,” you called back, rounding the front of your car to dive back into the driver’s seat. 

“But – Argh!” You heard him let out a yell, his phone still shrilling loudly. He sounded frustrated when he answered. “Soobin, what is it?! Yes, I already told him I’m – What? He said they were…” 

He became inaudible as you slammed your door shut, using his distraction to drive off – straight into the easiest parking spot available… You guessed your poor car would have to turn into a damn sauna for today. 

.

.

After the morning you had you were thrown all out of whack. All day you didn’t know whether you were coming or going, your students seeming more hyper than usual and by 3pm you were ecstatic to see them leave. Your head was throbbing by the time half 4 rolled around, the final touches to your student reports complete at least. Not long after you trudged in the direction of your boiling hot car, stomach still queasy from the canteen slop you’d been forced to eat today and stress levels now barely manageable. Only one more day until the weekend, yet now you’d be forced to deal with finding an affordable mechanic with your free time. 

You were still in disbelief over today’s events. That frustratingly handsome stranger with the concentration levels of a two year old and more money than sense. You scoffed to yourself, how dare he try to flaunt his wealth around like that. What had his name been again? He’d said on the phone… You couldn’t remember, your temper had been too distracting…

Whelp. You were having second thoughts… Maybe you’d been too harsh earlier… You hadn’t been overly rude at all, but you had been quite curt. He did seem genuinely sorry after all, and maybe you’d misjudged what you guessed was an act of kindness. After all, you had been on stop behind him, and while he should’ve double checked before backing out, it wasn’t all on him. You were both to blame. You felt guilty for not thanking him for his apology. For your preconceived opinions on him. You didn’t even know the man and there you were making judgements – 

You stopped dead in your tracks as you got closer to where your car was parked, thoughts immediately interrupted. “What the –?”  

Stopped in front of it was small towing vehicle, Park Esteem written along the side in bold orange font. A man rounded the corner of the truck, a clipboard in his hand as he looked around, presumably for the owner of the car he seemed so eager to tow. You. He was looking for you. 

You jumped to action, breaking into a run. “Excuse me, Excuse me!” The guy with the clipboard looked up at the sound of your strained voice calling out. It was shrill as you came to a halt right in front of him, demanding an explanation. “What are you doing? Why are you towing my car?!”

“You’re the owner of this vehicle, Miss?” 

“Yes!” You exclaimed in disbelief. “What’s the problem?” 

He looked down at his notes, visibly confused by your reaction it seemed. “Uh, Mr. Kim has requested I pick up your vehicle and take it to be fixed for the damage he caused?”

Mr. Kim?! Who the hell was – wait. Kim Seokjin. His name came back to you instantly. He’d gone behind your back after you explicitly said you didn’t want or need his help. How dare he. And there you’d been feeling guilty for the way you’d treated him not two minutes previous. 

“He said to be here at 4pm as you should be finishing work around then…” The mechanic carried on, voice softening, as if he was about to bear bad news. “I’ve been here for thirty minutes, Miss. I’m afraid I’ll have to bill him for that separately. Time is money after all.” 

You checked your watch on autopilot. It was coming up to twenty to five. Shaking out of it, you straightened your shoulders, back to fighting mode for the second time today. “You can’t just take my car without my permission.”  

The man grimaced slightly. “Well see, he’s already paid for the towage, and Mr. Kim is a very valuable and trustworthy customer.” 

“Trustworthy?” You scoffed. “He’s stealing my car! I’m sorry but no, I refuse this…” You paused to think. “This service.” This was so absurd. Not only had this Mr. Kim totally disregarded your wishes, the towing of your car was incredibly over the top. The damage was cosmetic, everything was in fine working order. It didn’t need to be helped to the workshop. The thought of something so dramatic was infuriating. 

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Miss. Mr. Kim already paid for the towage upfront so I can’t actually do anything about it now…” 

You stared at the man, telling yourself to take deep breaths. It wasn’t his fault. He was just doing his job. “So I have to let you take my car?”

He gave you a gentle smile. “I’m afraid so…unless…” He hesitated. “Unless you pay for the reversal…” 

“And how much is this reversal?” Your arms were crossed for what felt like the hundredth time today. 

You nearly keeled over when you were told the price. Damn that arrogant handsome man. Damn him straight to hell. Kim Seokjin, you would never forget that name now. What a complete and utter d–

“I’m sorry for the confusion, Miss. I was under the impression you knew Mr. Kim.” The mechanic apologised. 

You found yourself softening. He had a gentle voice. A gentle face too. It was that conceited so-and-so you were mad at. You were glad you’d left the classroom late today, not many cars left in the parking lot which meant less chance of a co-worker seeing this embarrassment. 

“So, I’m going to need to take your details now.” He continued, holding his clipboard out, sounding hopeful that you’d calmed down. “Just so I can arrange drop off at your address tomorrow.” You nodded slowly, watching him stretch out a hand. “I’m Jimin, by the way. Park Jimin from Park Esteem Car Services.” 

You shook it, introducing yourself automatically. “I’m Y/N.” 

He gave you a dazzling smile. “Lovely name. How do you spell that?” 

Ten minutes later your poor car was hooked up to Jimin’s truck, ready to go, just as a sleek black car with tinted windows pulled up alongside you. Out rushed a tall young man. He looked a little frazzled as he straightened out his suit jacket but smiled your way. “Hello, are you the owner of this vehicle?” 

“Yes,” you replied rather woodenly. What fresh hell? 

He smiled wider, outstretching his hand. “Hi, lovely to meet you. I’m Mr. Kim’s personal assistant, Mr. Choi, but you can call me Soobin.” 

You completed your second handshake of the day – two too many and introduced yourself too.  Inside you had a million and one questions. It began with ‘Why was his personal assistant here?’ and ended with ‘When would this day finally be over?’ 

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” The young man – Soobin – apologised. “Things have been incredibly hectic at the office today. I’m so glad you’re still here.” 

Jimin appeared by the side of you then. “Hi, you work for Mr. Kim?” Soobin nodded, tilting his head in curiosity. “Well, there have been a few misunderstandings this afternoon. Mr. Kim said he knew the client but she really has no idea who he is. Other than he was the one who hit her car.” 

Soobin grew flustered, bumbling over his words. “Oh, well, um…” 

“It’s fine,” you shook you head, not wanting to put the poor boy in an awkward position. This Mr. Kim seemed to like passing the buck onto innocent people. 

Jimin nodded. “Maybe just let your boss know that next time he should probably inform the person whose car he’s having towed…” 

Soobin laughed then, making light of an awkward situation even if it was forced. “Sure, sure.” 

“Okay, well, nice meeting you,” Jimin turned to you. “I’ll have this done by tomorrow, shouldn’t take too long, there’s not much damage at all.” You had the sudden urge to apologise for wasting his time but you stayed quiet. “You said you’ll be home by 7pm?” You nodded. “Great. Someone will drop it off shortly after that.” He tapped the side of his truck and smiled. “Have a lovely rest of your day, Y/N.” 

“Thank you, and you.” You waved him off – waved your car off too as Jimin started to drive and it disappeared into the distance, then you turned your attention back to Soobin. What was he doing here? 

On cue, he began to explain. “So, Mr. Kim is giving you a temporary loan of one of his cars for the time being, as apology and, well, a gesture of good faith. He really is awfully sorry about this morning.” There was silence as you made sense of his words. “The tank is full, no need for any expense on your side.” 

You forced yourself to speak. “Wait, hang on, he’s loaning me his car?” 

“One of them, yes,” Soobin smiled. One of them. How many did this man have? “He really doesn’t use this one, so don’t feel like you’re an inconvenience, it’s really no bother at all.” He pulled the key fob out of his pocket and handed it to you with a kind but awkward smile. “Here.” 

“So… I’m just riding his car home?” You’d told Jimin you’d call your best friend to pick you up when he’d offered you a ride home. You could still very well do that, but refusing this young man just seemed plain mean. After all, he had driven here despite a busy schedule. You didn’t want to waste his time. Poor boy was just doing what he was told, this Mr. Kim’s dogsbody. 

“Yes,” Soobin nodded, looking a little confused now. As if he was wondering why you weren’t understanding what he was saying. “Oh, wait,” he suddenly remembered, pulling a piece of paper (cream wove) out of his breast pocket. “Here’s a contact number for him to arrange the pick-up of the vehicle tomorrow evening. It might be me, but it depends on my schedule.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, still a little dazed, looking down at the number. You folded the paper and dropped it into your purse, suddenly realising something. “Wait, how are you getting home?”

“Hm?” He wasn’t expecting that question. “Oh, subway probably.” 

You anger flared once again. “So this Mr. Kim instructs you to ride one of his cars to my place of work, loan it to me and then expects you to just walk to the subway station?” 

Soobin blinked slowly a couple of times, hearing the attitude in your voice. “Well, when you say it like that you make it seem…bad. Your tone...” He shrugged and then gave a small laugh that wrinkled his nose. “I’m happy to walk, you know, exercise, get that blood pumping…” He finished with a few nimble stretches just to emphasise, before looking comically aghast. “Sorry. Ignore my unprofessionalism.” 

You jerked your head towards the car. “Get in.” 

His mouth hung open in confusion. “What?”

“I’ll give you a ride home. Do you live far?” 

“Not too far, Miss.” 

He waited for you to get into the driver’s seat and then followed quickly, getting in beside you. He couldn’t have wanted to walk that much then... “Call me Y/N.” You told him with a kind smile. “I don’t like all this professionalism. Besides, I get called Miss all day, every day. It gets tiring after a while.” 

He nodded dutifully in reply, back straight. 

.

.

You were on pins driving all the way home, eager to drop Soobin home so you could let go of your composure. This car was way too nice for you. Why did this stranger trust you with it?! His car. He didn’t know you. You could be the worst driver in the world for all he knew. You weren’t, but you could be. 

After you’d pulled up in your driveway you stayed there for a few minutes, needing some silence, just to calm yourself down, because you knew soon enough you’d get bombarded with questions. Sooner than you thought actually, because there was your front door ripping open, your best friend and roomie, Soojung, rushing out. “What is going on?” She demanded as you pushed the car door open. “Taken up car theft in your spare time?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you sighed, already trudging to the house. 

She followed behind closely. “Um, you’re talking about it alright. You can’t just park up in a car worth more than both our salaries a year and expect me to not bat an eyelid.” 

You scoffed at her dramatics, hanging your purse over the coat rack. “It’s not worth that much.” 

“Y/N, I mean this with the least possible offence, but you know absolutely jack shit about cars.” You had no time for a comeback. “Now tell me where the hell did you get that car?!”

After the third degree from Soojung for over an hour, you managed to shut her up with an in depth description of your car thief (as you were now calling him), which included in no particular order: what he looked like, his estimated age, his outfit and how rich you thought he was. You insisted you were in no way bothered by any of these factors and you were only humouring her for some much needed peace and quiet. She spent the next ten minutes begging you to call him and put him on loudspeaker so she could hear his voice, but you outright refused. You were not calling him tonight, you couldn’t trust yourself not to raise your voice. It could wait for tomorrow, when your first round of parent-teacher meetings were over and you had your own car back in your driveway. Mr. Kim could wait for his, it was the least he could do after all the trouble he’d caused today. You bet he had another six cars anyway – one for each day of the week. 

Soojung made you both a late dinner and not long after that you crawled your way to bed, exhausted and not at all mentally ready for tomorrow. You did wake up ten minutes before your alarm though, which you chose to take as a good sign, remembered your lunch too, and you hated to admit it, but your loaned vehicle drove like a dream once you weren’t so scared of accidentally careening it off a cliff, or something equally as impossible. 

You day actually went by without a hitch. All the children were well-behaved, much more subdued than yesterday, but maybe that was because your stress levels had rapidly decreased with the positive signs from this morning. They had raised a little when Mrs. Jeon from third grade had enquired about the new car she’d seen you driving into school, but after giving her a very much condensed version of yesterday’s events you both had a little laugh together, where she then proceeded to joke around and tell you that you shouldn’t give the car back… or at least you thought she was joking… However, other than that, the school day breezed by. 

Better yet, all the parents scheduled for meetings today were on time, and despite the rush end of year reports brought, you genuinely did love the opportunity to talk with your students’ parents one on one. You’d been teaching the first grade at the same school for over seven years now and despite the ups and downs being a teacher brought, it really was the most rewarding and fulfilling job. Especially at a school like this. This place was like a home to you, all you had ever known, and your students meant the world to you. Each and every one. Class sizes were always small at Primrose Hill, and that always made your connection with the kids even greater. 

There was always a sadness in your heart when May rolled around, the school year nearly over and you had to get ready to bid goodbye to the children who’d been a part of your life for over nine months. Of course, come September you would greet a new class of students once again, but it was always so bittersweet… 

It was just gone half past six now and you were waiting on the last parent of the evening. 5/6 parents on time was still a success. Hopefully Monday you would see full marks. You were waiting on the father of your newest student, Kim Arin. She’d only been with you two months, and it was very unusual that a child joined you so late into the year. You didn’t know all the details, but it seemed that her parents were divorced and she’d recently moved to live with her dad. You liked Arin, she was a sweet little girl, quite timid at times, especially in the beginning, but that was to be expected of course. It was always nerve-wracking to start a new school. She’d gradually come out of her shell, made friends and she was incredibly gifted in storytelling for such a young age. In a few years, if she kept it up, who knew what she’d be creating. You couldn’t wait to tell her father that. You’d grown very fond of her very quickly and you would definitely miss her come September. 

“Come in,” you called, a knock on your classroom door breaking you from your thoughts. Your back was to the entryway, preoccupied with collecting Arin’s report and classwork on your desk, so you didn’t see who entered, although presumably it was her father. 

“Oh, hello again.” 

You froze at the sound of the voice. That voice. Why was it so familiar? Why did it get your hackles up? As if you needed to prepare for a fight– Oh.

You turned abruptly, eyes wide as you came face to face with the car thief. What on earth was he doing here? Had he come to collect his car?! Maybe you should’ve rung him last night, but it seemed a little unbelievable that he was chasing this up so keenly. You weren’t the thief in question. He was. How insane was it to track you down like this. Who had given him your name? Who had told him what class you would be in? Surely it was forbidden? 

“If this is about the car business, we’ll have to sort it out later on, I’m expecting a parent of a student any minute now.” Straightening your back you held eye contact. He was very amused, eyes twinkling as he smiled at you, cheeks rounded. It made you feel slightly unnerved, but by damn had you forgotten how infuriatingly handsome that face of his was. Jerk. 

He held up his hand slightly and laughed. “I’m the parent in question.” 

“What?” 

You stood there limply like an idiot, blinking slowly as you tried to mentally put the pieces together. Kim Arin. Mr. Kim. Kim Seokjin, the arrogant, money can solve everything so-and-so was Arin’s father? Great. Absolutely gr–

“You’re Miss. Y/L/N?” 

“You’re Arin’s father?” It was obvious by now, but maybe there was that 0.001% chance he’d gotten the wrong classroom. Maybe. 

“Such a small world,” he grinned, all hope lost. He held out his hand for you to shake. “It’s nice to officially meet you.” 

There was a teasing to his tone, it got you pissed again, but you had to take it. You were in a professional setting now, you were his daughter’s teacher. His hand was warm, soft, grip gentle. Maybe you squeezed too hard, maybe he didn’t notice. “Please take a seat, I won’t be a minute.” 

Your tone was clipped, unable to sound at all breezy like you had with the other parents, and you turned back to your desk, rifling through more papers even though you had everything you needed. In all honesty, you just needed some thinking time. Get through this twenty minute meeting, you told yourself. Pretend like he wasn’t the man who hit your car and then got it towed a few hours later. You could do it. 

You felt him take the seat behind you, amusement still strong as he asked you a question. “So, are we just going to pretend yesterday didn’t happen?”

You collected Arin’s work and rounded your desk, taking a seat directly in front of him, careful to keep your expression neutral. “Right now’s not the time to discuss personal matters. Let’s just wait until this is over.” Twenty minutes and then he’d have it. He wouldn’t be smirking then. 

Although surprisingly, immediately after you said that he grew serious, nodding his head in agreement. “Of course. My apologies. Sorry I was late, by the way, I couldn’t escape the office.”

Taken back by his sudden change in demeanour you shook your head. “It’s fine.” You weren’t expecting it to be so easy, but he listened. 

“So,” he prompted when you didn’t follow up with anything. “Should we get started?”

You jolted, unaware you’d been lost in thought and silently cursed yourself. He was going to think an idiot was in charge of teaching his daughter. Not that it mattered what he thought, but still, you needed to snap out of it. He was here to talk about Arin and as her teacher you had plenty to say. 

Seokjin was highly focused throughout the whole meeting, taking on bored everything you had to say with earnest. He wanted to know how his daughter was getting on at her new school and was interested in all the work she had completed in the short amount of time she’d been here. He didn’t have to, but he gave you a small explanation about why she’d had to switch schools so late into the year, and even though you already knew it was because she’d moved to live with him, you stayed silent, letting him carry on. He sounded so genuine, so worried about what the move could’ve done to Arin’s education and mental health that it ended up touching you. It was visibly obvious how much he loved and cared for his daughter and that was refreshing to see. A lot of the time it was the mothers who attended these parent-teaching meetings, you rarely had the chance to speak to the dads, so you did relish in this opportunity, discussing Arin’s talent in creative writing in depth, showing Seokjin the collection of short stories she’d written, and giving him tips when he asked on ways she could improve. 

That would come with age, you said, but there was one small thing she may want to stop now rather than later. Her most recent story, a beautiful and creative fantasy piece that she unfortunately ended with the ‘it was all a dream’ trope. 

“What’s wrong with that?” Seokjin asked. You instantly sensed that his defensive was up. It made you smile as you gave a slight shrug. 

“Nothing per se, it can just be a little cliché. There’s much better ways to end a story.”

“Sure, but she’s only 6. It can’t be that serious?” 

Your smile grew. “I understand that, Mr. Kim. Like I said, Arin is truly gifted for her age, it was just a pointer that you asked for.” You wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise, but he seemed thoroughly into this discussion now. 

He tilted his head in thought. “What if it was the legitimate ending of a story? There’s obviously famous novels with such conclusions.”

Amused, you mimicked him. “For instance?”

“Hm?”

That caught him off guard. “What novels? Name me some.” 

His eyes grew comically wide at your request, and just as you suspected, he couldn’t answer. He chuckled, looking a little embarrassed. Was that a little colour on his cheeks? “You’ve put me on the spot.” 

You were both so engrossed discussing Arin that the time seemed to fly by. It was near to 7pm by the time you wrapped things up, and you’d enjoyed yourself so much you almost forgot you’d made a deal with yourself to start chewing Seokjin out the moment it was all over. He ever so kindly reminded you. 

“You know, I was expecting a very angry phone call last night. I was quite surprised when it never came.”

Both of you were now stood up, your desk still between you. Seokjin held copies of Arin’s stories that you’d given him to read over in his free time and you with nothing to fiddle with, folded your arms across your chest. Ah, here we go again. The playful lilt to his voice back from earlier, that infuriating smirk too. 

He was dressed in a much less flashy suit today. A simple slate grey two piece, his dark hair styled against his forehead, the smallest peek of forehead visible. It made him appear younger – not that he looked old anyway. Your guessing was mid 30s maybe, but this hairstyle made him appear softer. The faintest of lines around his eyes provided the slightest of giveaways, but then again, you only noticed them because you were searching for any clue to his age. His hair was still thick and dark and it definitely didn’t look like he dyed it. His body was… hm, he was built well. He certainly seemed to look after it. Not that you were looking, of course. 

You could definitely see the resemblance between him and Arin. Their eyes were the same almond shape, both deep brown in colour, and while their noses were slightly different, Arin’s cheeks obviously rounder, their plump lips were uncanny. 

Despite very much in thought, you kept your expression unreadable, nose in the air as you replied. “Perhaps I was too mad for words.”

He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. If they were natural, life was incredibly unfair. “And now?”

“It would be unprofessional of me to start yelling at my place of work.” 

“You want to yell at me?” His eyes twinkled with silent laughter. It was obvious he was holding it in. 

You were glad he found this funny because you didn’t. No matter how much he’d impressed you as a father it still didn’t change yesterday. “You had no right just stealing my car like that.” 

He scoffed. “It was hardly stealing. Who steals a car to pay for the damage he caused?”

“I didn’t want you to pay!” 

He still looked baffled by your stubbornness. “That’s just absurd.”  

“You’re calling me absurd?”

He sighed. “Of course not.” He was getting flustered now, similar to yesterday. It was funny to watch. “I just…” He trailed off, catching the grin on your face. “You’re enjoying this.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I love a complete stranger backing out into my car to then subsequently steal it from right under my nose.” 

He eyed you hesitantly. You knew he couldn’t tell if you were joking around or not. Your words and posture said no, but your eyes and lips gave it away eventually. “We’re still on this stealing business?” He paused, lips quirking. “Besides, I’m not a stranger. I’m your favourite student’s father.” 

You laughed in disbelief. This man was so full of himself. “I’m a teacher, I don’t do favouritism.”

“Oh?” He seemed sceptical. 

You shook your head, he really was unbelievable, but you couldn’t stop the smile that creeped its way to your mouth. “If that’s all, Mr. Kim.” You pointed to the door. It was getting late now, your car should be getting dropped off soon too. 

He chuckled as he started to make his exit, you following closely behind. When he stopped abruptly, turning back, you weren’t expecting him to be so close. You could notice the beginnings of stubble growing above his top lip, a sure sign you were in too close a proximity.

“She likes you a lot.” He murmured, serious once again. You wished he’d stop doing that. Was he an obnoxious rich jerk, or a caring, hardworking father? You would have gone with the former right before this meeting, now you had no clue. Maybe you’d gotten him all wrong. That would teach you for judging a book by its cover… 

“Arin,” he added, as if it wasn’t obvious. “She’s always speaking about you when I ask how her day went. You’re her favourite ever teacher.” He grinned then, laughing, amused by himself. 

You groaned. “Stop trying to guilt me.” He laughed harder, throwing his head back. Was all that true? Arin talked about you? You were her favourite teacher? Or was he just making it up for reaction? You didn’t ask. 

“Although, I will say it’s nice to put a face to the name now.” Maybe you didn’t need to ask. “Just wasn’t expecting it to be the woman whose car I drove into yesterday morning…”

No, neither were you. 

“I really am sorry about that.” 

He sounded nothing but sincere, you couldn’t not accept his apology, despite being still annoyed by what he had done afterwards. “You keep saying.” You gave an accepting sweep of your hand. “Let’s just forget about it, accidents happen, right?” 

“Right.” He gave a quick nod of his head, followed by a shrug. “…aand I guess you were parked behind me so…” 

You opened your mouth to refute such a claim but his laughter was so loud, so unlike his outer appearance, if that made any sense, (all high-pitched and squeaky almost), you were dazed for a moment, couldn’t help but join him – quietly so, but it was something. This man obviously thought he was hilarious. 

He opened the door, hand resting on the handle as he spoke again. At this rate the janitor would appear for his shift and you’d still be here talking to Seokjin. “Listen, I can’t find anyone to pick up my car tonight so how about tomorrow? Is that okay for you? You can give me a call in the morning and we’ll arrange a time suitable.” 

Oh yes, you’d forgotten all about that. Too distracted. By what? Him? “It’s fine. I can drop it off myself tomorrow.” 

He raised that perfect eyebrow again. “You can?”

You gave him an affirmative hum. Why was that so surprising to him? 

“How will you get home?”

Shoot. “Subway,” you thought quickly. 

“Are you sure?” He looked even more surprised, was about to suggest something else it seemed, until you spoke again. 

“Saves that kid wasting his weekend.” 

“Kid?” 

“Soobin.” No doubt he’d be the one to pick the vehicle up, being Seokjin’s personal assistant after all. You needed one of those. They could mark the children’s homework and plan your lessons…

“Oh. He really wouldn’t mind,” Seokjin reassured. 

“Really?” It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. Both of them actually, but they weren’t as devastatingly shaped as his. That reminded you, you needed to get them threaded again soon. “Poor boy was about to trek to the station yesterday before I offered him a ride.”

“You took him home? He didn’t tell me that.” Seokjin sounded surprised. 

“I wasn’t going to let him walk after he went to all that trouble for me.” 

He nodded in understanding. “You’re very kind.” 

You felt a little panicky, unable to read his reaction very well. “He won’t get into trouble?” You couldn’t see why he would, but you never know. 

“No,” Seokjin laughed. “Is that what you think of me?”

You shook your head. “Of course not, I was just…” You stopped, unsure what to say.

“I wonder what you do think of me,” he pondered, voice low, lips curled. 

“I don’t think it really matters what I think of you.” You replied cryptically. 

He liked that, chuckling softly. “Can’t a guy be curious?” You remained tight lipped. “My employees love working for me, for your information.” He added. Maybe as damage control, who knew. 

You rolled your eyes for the second time this evening. “You’re very full of yourself, Mr. Kim.” 

“Please, call me Seokjin,” he requested. 

You nodded, but you still didn’t think you were at that type of pleasantry yet. You could think of him as Seokjin but to say it aloud felt wrong almost, you didn’t know him. Thinking about it, it wouldn’t really matter come tomorrow anyway.

You watched him pull out a small notebook and an expensive looking pen from his inner jacket pocket, holding the copies of Arin’s stories under his arm as he used the door for support to write his address down for you. Ripping out the page perfectly, he passed it to you with a smile. “Drop the car off around 3pm. I should be long done at the office by then.” 

He was working on the weekend? He certainly was a busy man. Who looked after Arin while he wasn’t there? These curiosities you had couldn’t very well be asked, not unless you wanted to appear nosey and overstep the mark… 

“Okay,” you replied. “Then we arrange repayment.”

“Repayment?” He looked bewildered. “You’re not paying me back.” 

“I am.” 

“You’re not.” His tone was stern. You could be sterner, you were sure of it. 

“I am.” You insisted, staring him down. “The mechanic informed me yesterday that you’d be charged separately because he had to wait an extra half hour.” 

“Oh, that.” He shook a hand. “I knew that might happen because I was uncertain when you finished work. It’s really no bother.” 

No bother? Was this man adamant to hear you raise your voice? “I’m paying you back.” 

He feigned confusion, teasing you. “I don’t think you are.” 

“I – Look, we’ll sort this out tomorrow.” You’d be here arguing until Monday otherwise. 

He scoffed. “There’s nothing to sort out.” 

You shot him glare. It was a warning. Tomorrow you’d let him have a piece of your mind if he continued to refuse. You didn’t think he took it seriously. 

.

.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t just sit here and I say he wasn’t flirting with you.” 

“He wasn’t.” You were adamant. Soojung had made you relay your whole conversation with Seokjin as soon as you’d let slip this evening’s revelation. You were regretting it now. You were trapped on this couch forced to listen to her insane claims. There was no way in hell that man had been flirting with you. 

“You were definitely flirting back.” 

You felt yourself flush, voice raising as you insisted that she was wrong. “As if.” She shot you a look that told you she didn’t believe a word. “He’s rich and arrogant.” 

She laughed. “You say rich as if it’s a bad thing.” 

It wasn’t a bad thing, it just wasn’t your thing, but if rich made him smug and think he could throw his money around when you’d explicitly stated you didn’t want him too, then yes, it was a bad thing. 

“I wonder how loaded he really is…” Soojung thought aloud. “Millionaire status? He didn’t say where he worked?” 

“Didn’t come up,” you replied shortly. You were done talking about him now. In your eyes it was nearly over. Your car was back in its rightful place on your driveway and Seokjin’s would soon follow in its rightful place – surrounded by a handful of others. You would never have to see that frustrating man ever again – hopefully. 

“Find out tomorrow.” 

“I am not finding out tomorrow,” you exclaimed. It wasn’t important. He worked in an office, nothing out of this world amazing. “I’m just going to drop off his car, write out a cheque and be on my merry little way.” 

Soojung snorted. “Bitch, you’re going to be repaying him back a dollar a week.” You glared at her but she wasn’t fazed. “There’s no way you can afford it. He probably uses the most expensive mechanic in the city.” 

“Shut up.” You didn’t care if you had to use your savings account. He was getting his money back one way or the other. You refused to be indebted to him. You were a little nervous though… “It can’t be that much. He only had to repaint some scratches,” you worried.

Your best friend ignored you, nestling in closer, an overjoyed grin on her face. “Tell me again, is he dishy?”

You sighed – loudly. Why couldn’t she let the topic drop? “I’ve already described him to you, and besides, that’s not the point.” 

She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively. “So that’s a yes then. You’re into the Dilf!” 

You didn’t bother replying, instead choosing to throw a cushion at her. She was unbelievable. But why did her teasing annoy you so much right now? 

Saturday and Sunday’s always allowed you to sleep in, although 8am probably wasn’t what most called late. You liked to make the most of your weekends and today was no different. After breakfast you showered and got ready, putting aside an hour to go over the student reports for Monday instead of wasting your Sunday night instead. You and Soojung had made plans to go out for coffee late morning as it was rare to see her free on a Saturday. She worked hectic and last minute hours as a department store manager, but she’d finally bargained her first full weekend off in months. 

Somehow your coffee turned into a little bit of a shopping spree, your credit card violently cursing you, but after the past few days you’d had you couldn’t find it in you to give a damn. You ate a late lunch at a one of your favourite cafés and then sadly, it was time to rush home and drop off Seokjin’s car back to him. You were very much dreading it – happy it would soon be over, don’t get you wrong, it was just the thought was making you all fidgety and nervous. Soojung wasn’t making it any better, she wouldn’t shut up about it, trying her best to get you give his address up. As if. You knew better than that. She’d be straight on her phone, google maps up in an instant. 

You said a begrudging goodbye to her half 2, promising you’d call her straight away with all the details once you were done. She was spending the night at her boyfriend Taehyung’s house tonight but that still wouldn’t stop her innate need for gossip. Your phone acted as GPS on the way to Seokjin’s house, having no idea how to use the fancy one in his car. Not that any of it helped. His house seemed impossible to find. It did not take the predicted twenty minutes your phone told you. No, it was near forty by the time you finally found the concealed long road you’d driven past three times that led to it. 

You came to a stop outside a pair of intimidatingly large gates and nearly choked when you saw his house. Well, you couldn’t really call it that. It was a mansion. Eight times the size of the house you and Soojung rented together, maybe more. He really was loaded. You just hadn’t realised how loaded until now. You felt a little sick as you spotted the intercom system on the wall, wondering if you could just ditch the car here and run as fast as your legs could carry you. Why had you not just let Seokjin arrange someone to pick it up from your house? Why were you always so stubborn?! 

Taking a deep breath you got out of the vehicle and walked over to the intercom, feeling partial relief to find it didn’t have a camera attached. You would absolutely die of shame otherwise, hopelessly unphotogenic and camera shy. Your teacher’s ID card would forever haunt you. 

It rang for a few moments before a woman picked up. “Hello, may I ask who it is?”

You weren’t expecting the female voice so you were stumped for a moment, stumbling over your words before you managed to settle on something helpful. “Hi, yes, this is Arin’s teacher, Miss. Y/L/N. I’m here to return the car Mr. Kim loaned me…” 

“Hello, love” the woman greeted sweetly. “Drive up to the front of the house. I won’t be a moment.”

“Okay.” You were thankful she hung up first because you let out a shriek when the gates started automatically opening. You dreaded to think if there were security cameras near. 

With a delay you got back into the car and started it up again, thoughts a little preoccupied now that it wasn’t Seokjin who’d picked up. You’d taken it he lived alone, not that he’d told you that. Maybe he had a new girlfriend, you were unsure how long he’d been divorced for. Although you didn’t recall Arin mentioning a woman’s name when she talked about her father. Not that you’d like to admit it, but you’d spent a generous portion of time last night while you waited for sleep trying to recall times when Arin had mentioned Seokjin. You didn’t know why, curiosity you guessed. 

But anyway, if Seokjin in fact did have a new partner, then you also guessed Soojung’s theory was incorrect. He had not been flirting with you. Which wasn’t a surprise. It had been a long time since a guy had flirted with you… You were probably to blame there, but it didn’t particularly bother you. Your life was busy enough as it was, throw in a man and you’d hit your breaking point. 

The woman who’d answered the call was waiting for you outside as you pulled up, older than her voice had made her seem. You stopped the car and got out, greeting her. 

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Arin’s Nanny, Misook.” 

Oh. That made sense. You guessed your imagination had run wild with you for a few unexplainable moments. You felt almost embarrassed as you stood there awkwardly. Was she going to take the keys? Could you leave? 

“Please come in.” She smiled kindly. “Seokjin won’t be long, he’s just showering, work ran late.”

Come in?! Oh no, no, no. That wasn’t part of the plan. It was drop the keys and run. However, like a fool, you were unable to say no, looking behind you at Seokjin’s vehicle. “Is the car okay here?”

“Of course,” she nodded. “He’ll place it in the garage later. Follow me.” She turned her back and started making her way inside. 

You followed with heavy feet, not quite ready for this. Your first three encounters/dealings with Seokjin had been interesting to say the least. How would the fourth go? You felt a little rude entering your way inside his house (mansion) but Misook wouldn’t have invited you inside if it wasn’t okay, right? Maybe Seokjin wanted you here… 

“Make yourself comfortable while you wait.” Misook said once you’d taken off your pumps and she’d led you to the room nearest the entryway. The living room? The lounge? The family room? You didn’t know what else to call it, descriptions too basic for this grand home. 

Not that the décor and furniture were too elaborate. In fact, everything looked so homely and cosy inside. The couch was definitely leather but the throw draped over it and the cushions out of place made it look lived in. The colour scheme was minimalistic, walls cream, accents mostly teal blue and grey. Seokjin had style, or perhaps he’d hired an interior designer. You suddenly wondered what the rest of his home looked like. 

“Do you want anything to drink? Anything to eat? I’m just making Arin a snack.” Misook offered, but you immediately shook your head, not wanting to put her out. 

“Oh, no thank you. I ate before I left.” 

She nodded and left the room, leaving you to your own devices in a stranger’s house. The stranger who had hit your car and then proceeded to steal it from right under your nose. The stranger who had let you borrow his car and the stranger who was Arin’s dad. The world worked in mysterious ways. Or it was just mere coincidence, whatever. 

You perched yourself on the end of the teal love seat nearest the large bay window, fluffing up the cushion behind you to at least look a little comfortable. You looked around the room casually, spotting a hardback book on the coffee table – The Rough Guide to the 100 Best Places on Earth. Did Seokjin like to travel? With a seemingly busy lifestyle and a child it seemed pretty impossible. Maybe he just liked to dream? Maybe he’d travelled in his younger days? Wait, why were you thinking about these things? You looked over to the impressive brick fireplace, the obvious focal point of the room; it was stunning. A chunk of waxed driftwood sat above it, acting as a shelf and in the middle of it was a photo of Arin and Seokjin in a silver frame. Both their faces filled the image, grinning widely and they really did look so alike. You found yourself smiling, jumping a little when you heard your name. 

“Miss. Y/L/N!”

You followed the tiny excited voice, finding Arin in the doorway smiling shyly at you. She gave you a little wave. 

“Hi, Arin,” you greeted. 

That was all she needed to skip inside, sitting on the end of the couch closest to you. “Daddy told me you were coming today.” Well, at least she wasn’t surprised to find you in her living room. “He told me what he did. Silly daddy.” 

You let out a polite laugh. “It’s okay, accidents happen, huh?” You couldn’t very well say your daddy was an idiot, could you? “How are you today, Arin?” You asked, changing the subject, finding yourself in teacher mode instantly. “Do you have any plans?” 

“I’m okay,” she let out a comical sigh. “Daddy is taking me bowling.”

“That sounds like fun. Why are you sighing?” 

“I was supposed to see my mom but she was too busy…” She answered rather dejectedly. 

“Oh, that’s too bad.” You tried to think of something to say to reassure that little sad face of hers. “I’m sure she’s just as disappointed.” 

Arin gave a little shrug. “She’s always busy.” 

In the two months you’d been her teacher you’d never seen her mood like this. Yes, for her first week in class she’d been quiet, but that was because of nerves, today she looked deflated. You found yourself struggling for something to say, which was unlike you, especially with all your training. It was your job to reassure children after all. 

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.” 

Your head jerked up at the sound of Seokjin’s voice. There he was in the doorway, smiling your way. There was something different about him. What was it? Oh – his clothing. You noticed eventually. He was dressed incredibly casual today – normal. A beige coloured sweater and dark blue jeans. His hair wasn’t styled, flat to his forehead and still partly wet, his skin flushed from the heat of the shower.  You still couldn’t place his age. You were sure he was older than you, but by how much was difficult to say. 

“Mr. Kim, hi,” you greeted, standing up for some reason. You still couldn’t bring yourself to call him Seokjin unless it was in your own head. 

He walked towards you, in slippers. You didn’t know why but the thought was so bizarre. You were being ridiculous. Of course he wore slippers, why wouldn’t he? 

“Daddyyy,” Arin sung, running towards him and hugging his legs. She looked up at him, asking sweetly, “Are we ready to go?”

He chuckled, rubbing her hair. “Soon, sweetie. Go and find Misook in the kitchen so you can have your snack before we leave.” 

She looked at him coyly. “Can we have pizza later?”

He laughed again and gave a small shrug. “Sure. As a weekend treat.” 

You watched on, not realising there was a smile on you face. They were cute together. You noticed Arin peeking at you, then she looked up at her father again. “Is Miss Y/L/N coming too?”

Seokjin had the brazenness to look across at you, raising his eyebrows expectantly, as if it was your call. Was he insane? Not only was it implausible, it was downright unprofessional. You were Arin’s teacher. Yes, for just a few more weeks, but this interaction was already out of your comfort zone. 

“Uh,” you started, feeling awkward. “No, sorry, Arin. I, um, I have plans today.” 

You didn’t want to let her down, but luckily she didn’t seem to mind, giving you a roll of her shoulders and a cute smile. “Okay. See on you on Monday, Miss.” And off she skipped, out the door and to where you presumed was the direction of the kitchen. 

“Sorry about that,” Seokjin chuckled, stepping closer, as if he hadn’t pretty much invited you himself. What if you’d said yes? He’d have been okay with that? 

You felt yourself begin to heat up at the close proximity. You had no idea why he made you feel like this, especially now. You’d handled it so well yesterday, but then again, maybe that was because there’d been a desk separating you. In a professional setting. Right now you were out of your comfort zone, out of your depth. In his home, in his living room, a mere few inches between you both. Why did you find it so intimidating? Why did you find him so intimidating?!

That face… That face with that infuriating smile, and those eyes that seemed to twinkle with amusement, as if there was a joke you weren’t aware of. Multiple jokes. What did he find so funny? Was it you? You felt instantly defensive. He probably used those good looks to unease people, to make them do as he wanted. Not you. 

You took a step back, your legs brushing the love seat behind you, and reached for your purse, pulling out your cheque book. “So,” you began, hating the way your voice faintly shook. “Let’s settle. How much do I owe you?” 

His smile instantly disappeared as he rolled his eyes slightly. You caught them and it made you want to fight. “You’re still on this.” 

“Yes, I am,” you bristled “They washed my car too.” 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he groaned. “It was part of the service.”

“Just tell me how much I owe you.” You were adamant. 

“No.” So was he. 

“Mr. Kim.” 

“Seokjin,” he corrected, a small smug smile on his face. 

“Tell me!” 

He brought a hand to his temple, tapping the skin with his fingers as he let out a grunt. “You know what, I can’t seem to remember. It’s been a busy week, memory’s a little fuzzy.” The grin on his face told he was messing with you. 

What an exasperating bastard. You didn’t swear often, but he’d just driven you to it. Any more and it was out loud. Maybe your face gave something away because he soon changed his tune, falling serious, like he could so magically do sometimes. “Look, it was my fault, so I paid.” 

You wanted to scream. “What if I had an accident in your car? Would I have to pay the damage?” 

Instantly he looked worried, those perfect eyebrows furrowing in alarm. “Have you? Are you okay?” 

It looked like he was about to reach out a hand to comfort you, and you panicked, rushing into explanation, taken back by his concern. “No, I’m fine. I-I was just being hypothetical.” He looked confused. “By your logic, I would have to pay, right?” 

“My logic,” he mused, chuckling softly. “I’m just doing the correct thing. But yes, I suppose you’d have to pay.” He gave a shrug, that annoying smile back on his face. “Good thing there were no accidents then.” 

He was probably right. You weren’t that angry to prove a point. You’d probably have to take a lifetime loan to pay the damage off. You felt defeated. What more could you do? Write out a cheque for a guesstimated amount? Imagine the humiliation if you totally undervalued it. No, maybe you should just let it go. Bite your tongue and take this “gift” from a stranger. He had backed out into your car after all, regardless if you were hovering there, he just hadn’t been paying attention. He felt a guilt, a need to repair the damage caused so you’d just let him, even if it went against everything you believed in – your morals. He could obviously afford it and never miss the money. 

So you let him win this one, let him walk you to the door before you were late for those important plans that may or may not involve being sat in front of the television all evening watching sitcom reruns on the comedy channel. (He didn’t know that of course.) 

“Alice in Wonderland,” he said suddenly, just as you were coming to a halt by the grand wooden door. You turned to see him grinning and looked at him questioningly. What on earth was he on about? “A famous novel that uses that ‘it was all a dream’ trope you hate.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “I think someone may have been on google last night.”  

He held up his hands. “Guilty as charged.” 

You let yourself laugh, genuinely amused. You weren’t so nervy now, as comfortable in his presence as you were going to get. “Goodbye, Mr. Kim.” 

He tutted. “If you call me that one more time I’ll be forced to take that cheque from you.”

Really? Interesting… “Mr –

“I take it back,” he interrupted quickly, realising his mistake. “But please, call me Seokjin. I get called too many formalities within the week, I hate it.” 

You had to agree with that, you knew that feeling all too well. “Fine,” you gave in. “Goodbye, Seokjin.” There, you’d bitten the bullet. Calling him by his name aloud made you feel funny. “Thank you for… everything.” 

He mulled over your gratitude, seemingly satisfied. “I’ll take that.” You ignored him and turned to leave. He stopped you, his hand touching your elbow and warmth spread throughout your body instantly. “Are you really taking the subway home?”

You nodded. 

He looked dubious. “The nearest station is quite a walk from here.”

“How far?” Now you were too. 

“Let me give you a ride there.” He offered. “I’m taking Arin downtown anyway. Her plans with her mom got changed last minute so I’m trying to cheer her up.” At the mention of his ex-wife  his voice became tense, his expression darkening for a moment before he shook himself out of it, a smile back on his face. “So, what do you say?” 

“Okay.” You agreed, smiling back. “You can drop me off.” In all honesty, you had no clue where you were going anyway, this part of the city unfamiliar to you. That, and your cell phone had only 20% battery life left after the palaver of trying to get yourself here. Driving you to the station wasn’t going to put him out so it was fine. 

“Great. Oh, by the way,” he slipped in, as if he’d suddenly remembered something. Or maybe he was just trying to sound casual. “Are you ever going to tell me your name or do I have to live in mystery for the rest of my life?” 

You grew surprised. Of course, he didn’t know your name. You’d never told him. Maybe subconsciously you’d imagined Soobin would’ve relayed that piece of information back to him, or maybe, and most likely, you’d never actually thought about it at all. No wonder you hadn’t realised. You felt almost rude. 

“It’s only fair,” Seokjin said, mistaking your silence as indecision. “You know mine, and I can’t keep referring to you as Miss. Y/L/N. It’s a bit strange, don’t you think?” 

That was interesting. When was he planning to refer to you again at all? Not that you needed to be persuaded. But you were being polite, that’s what you told yourself. You knew his name so like he’d said, it was only fair. There was no other reason, and of course the idea of him being curious about your name made you feel nothing whatsoever. Okay? 

You gave him a quick smile, feeling a little coy for some reason. “It’s Y/N.” 

“Y/N,” he repeated, murmuring it softly as the mystery unveiled itself. 

That was dangerous. Hearing the syllables roll from his tongue so gently sent a rush of heat through your body. It settled on your face, tingling, and you prayed it wasn’t visible. 

What the hell was wrong with you?! 

Written 2020 - 2021.  Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[darklyndivinely]

Today, three months ago I posted my first fic on Tumblr, and while it has only been a couple months, it feels such a long time ago that I posted 'The Inevitable Heartbreak.' It's not perfect, in fact whenever I go back and read it, I find myself pointing out flaws that I overlooked the first time around and I hope to someday go back and edit it again. Since then, I have posted three other works that I really enjoyed crafting that can be found here.

So to celebrate today, here's a list of all of my wips with small snippets from them:

1. It Will Come Back - Leviathan x gn!reader

“Did you enjoy the meet?” You ask carefully, your voice loud in the deafening silence. Levi hums, a deep, guttural sound that makes you shiver. No. This staircase was definitely not this long. You glance back to spare a cautious look at the winding structure. Everything looked normal. When you turn back, Levi has inched closer to you. He stands on the step just below yours, hazy eyes so close to yours, your heart lurches in your chest. You try to step back but his hand clasps around your wrist in a deadly grip. His tongue darts out, black and veiny, and slowly licks his lips as his eyes are drawn to the junction of your neck. You hold your breath, trying to control the rapidly increasing pounding in your ears. You’ve got to get out of here. But before you can even contemplate any course of action, Levi jerks his head up to peer into your eyes as if he had caught onto your line of thoughts. His casually curious expression shifts, segueing into something far more sinister and sharp. Before you, black-like veins creep through his lips and into his orange eyes and transform them into an inky abyss.

2. I Love You. - Lucifer x gn!angel!reader

“They were finishing up the last bit of paperwork when I left and told me to inform you all in advance.” Simeon laughs, “They said, ‘Tell them I expect a grand welcome, and to get those asses working.’”

Lucifer feels a breathy push at his throat. A single glance around shows his brother’s faces expressing what he feels.

“Wait, they are coming? When?” Mammon asks, teetering at the edge of his seat.

Simeon ponders, “Um... Late tomorrow or early day after, I guess.”

“Tomorrow!” Asmo shrieks. “We’ve got almost no time! We need to book a place for the party, the decorations, the cake- My outfit! What am I going to wear? Oh goodness!”

He clutches Satan’s arm, panic swirling in his eyes.

Satan agrees, “Asmo’s right. If we are to welcome them with a grand celebration, we have our work cut out for us.”

3. The Harbringers of Justice - Marc Spector x gn!Avatar!reader

The stone wall is freezing against your back, rough edges digging into your shoulder as you suck in greedy breaths. You rest your head against the wall, gunshots ringing in your ear. They were getting closer. You had been hoping to avoid short-distance combat, but they had you cornered, long-distance would no longer work. You breathe in slowly, feeling the cold night air swirl in your lungs before pushing off the wall, your hand reaching back and plucking a single arrow from your quiver. You nock it into position and enchant it with a quick thought. There is no visible difference in its appearance, but you can feel the enchantment run through the entirety of its body, tingling against the tips of your fingers where you hold it by the tail. You step forward, abandoning the safety of your tucked-away corner. Their bullets are hardly an inconvenience when shot from such a distance. You walk towards them, quickly observing their speed of progress and the intervals between each firing before releasing your arrow. The split second it takes to reach, you immaterialize your bow and quiver, swapping it with your sword, Kêrux. The adamantine blade glints in the faint moonlight as you call upon your powers and run.

4. Till Death Do Us Part - Poly!brothers x gn!witch!reader

Your vision explodes with light, as the eldest’s pact mark burns against your skin. Lucifer materializes in front of your slumped figure, face littered with worry as his eyes quickly find yours. It appeared as if you had caught him working, clad in loose sweatpants and a breathy t-shirt with his glasses perched on his nose. He quickly surveys your surroundings, halting in thinly-veiled surprise at the army of monsters surrounding your house, barely four hundred feet away. You let out a shuddering breath, pushing against the dry grass to get on your feet. “I think they can feel the sword. I left three trails but they still found me quickly.” Lucifer nods, taking off his glasses and transporting them back to the House of Lamentation. He surveys the shield you had erected, faintly glimmering in the waning sunlight. “How long will it hold?” “Not more than twenty pushes.” Lucifer hums, shifting into his demon form and unfurling his obsidian wings. “Then we shall attack first. And do something about the sword as well.” His eyes meet yours, gloved hand coming to cup your cheek. His thumb grazes the deep circles beneath your eyes, forehead creasing in concern. “You should rest.” You hum, nuzzling into his hand. The texture of his glove is familiar, his fingers even more so. You had missed him so much in your time away. “You know I can’t do that.” You whisper, sliding your other hand up Lucifer’s left arm. It felt incredible to be able to feel him again, to be given a moment to forget the exhaustion that had seeped into your bones.

5. We Vibe Together, Baby - Mammon x gn!reader

“You gotta see this! It’s so funny I almost died-” Mammon throws your door open, excited eyes searching for you. He pauses when he finds you asleep on your study desk. You face was mostly hidden by your arm but he could see the blissful fall and rise of your body as you breathed. You must be really tired if you didn’t stir from his loud entry. Guess the meme would have to wait. He nears your slumbering form; clicking his phone shut and stuffing it in his back pocket, and reaches out to trace your ear with care. Walking in on you sleeping like this felt strangely intimate, as if you were making him privy to an intimate moment, letting him observe you in your vulnerable state.

[breakyeol]

— SQUIRM, BABY.

You don’t like Doh Kyungsoo. Especially not when he’s got his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of you and your seeing stars —goddamn stars!— but can’t make a sound unless you want the entire library to know exactly what he’s doing to you under the table.

┗ Pairing: Tutor!Kyungsoo x Reader

Genre: college au, tutor au, enemies w benefits au, smut

Words: 4.7k 

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, sexual acts in a public setting, fingering

A/N; tomorrow is going to be my 1 year anniversary as an EXO-L!! oh my goodness that feels so crazy, time really flies. so here is a little present from me to you, enjoy lovelies!!

“These are all wrong,” Kyungsoo mutters blankly, “start over.”

A loud groan is ripped from your throat, the sound earning you more than a few sideways glares from the surrounding tables but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been here for two hours, studying one of the most intolerable subjects in the world: Calculus. The mere mention of its name made you shiver in disgust.

To be blunt, you’d always been shit at math. Numbers and equations were never your strong suit, not in high school and definitely not now with the added complexities of derivatives and differential equations (neither of which made even the slightest bit of sense to you). You much preferred the gentleness of literature and history to the strict logic and rules of mathematics and science. Unfortunately for you, the latter subjects were just as vital a part of your education, and opting out of them was not an option.

“Can’t we take a break?” You almost whine the question, pressing your fingers into your throbbing temples. “My brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“No.”

You scowl at the bluntness of his rejection. “I’m paying you.” You point out, stabbing a finger into his bicep for emphasis. “Shouldn’t I have a say in when we take a break?”

He rolls his eyes, swatting your hand away and shoving the paper back in your direction. “I’m giving you your money’s worth. Do it again.”

You let out a noisy huff of air, slouching over dramatically in the stiff plastic chair until your chin is pressed against the cold table. “I hope you know I am deeply regretting some of my life decisions right about now.” You grumble, shooting him an icy glare that you hope conveys the absolute loathing you feel for both him and the set of problems laid before you.

“I thought that was a daily thing for you.”

Scoffing, you bury your mouth in the thick sleeve of your hoodie. “Your face is a daily thing for me.”

He doesn’t even bother to look at you, though you could almost feel the intensity of his deadpan. “I think that was the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“Your face is the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“You do realize that that makes absolutely no sense.”

“Your fa—”

“Shut up and do your work.”

He either doesn’t hear or consciously chooses to ignore the colorful array of curses you grumble spitefully in his direction, though simultaneously resigning yourself to the fact that you won’t be able to put off your work inevitably. Kyungsoo was a stickler for proper time management. If he had an agenda set in place for your tutoring session (which he always did), then you better believe he’d be checking off each item within its designated time frame. And if you don’t cooperate— well then, your best bet is to pray that there isn’t a mechanical pencil within his reach.

He might not always be able to reach the top shelf, but Kyungsoo had ways of getting what he wanted. Usually, that chilling glare was enough to get those around him to bend to his will. He could be a scary little shit when he wanted to be. You’ll admit, even you had been the tiniest bit intimidated when you first met him. He was quiet, reserved, strict in manner, but also the dangerous unpredictable type, you gathered that much quickly enough. Maybe that’s why the two of you didn’t get on too well.

Where he was cool and standoffish, “a man of few words” some might say, you were more vocal about your opinions, social by nature, always eager to meet new people and make new connections. You had a tendency to speak loudly when excited and talk with your hands when passionate about a subject. That was something most people learned about you very quickly. Unfortunately, upon your first official meeting at a party in your freshman year with your mutual friends, Kyungsoo had no idea just how emphatic you could be until you’d knocked his drink clean out of his hand and spilled it down the front of his brand new shirt.

It was an accident, of course. You’d apologized profusely and he’d accepted it (albeit somewhat begrudgingly), but that was probably the first of many missteps in your... unique relationship.

With such conflicting personalities, it was understandable that you got into frequent arguments about one thing or another. Petty disagreements would often grow into something larger than they really needed to be. Mostly because despite having such contrasting personalities, you shared the trait of innate stubbornness, neither of you willing to admit when you were wrong. It was easy to argue with him, and you liked when you proved him wrong. You liked the way his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed. You liked the way he glared, the way his lips pouted. You like the challenge he presented you with every time he opened his mouth. Above, you loved to win. Especially when it was against him.

So you pushed, and he pushed right back. And before you knew it, you found yourself a proper ‘frenemy’, though you aren’t sure that that’s quite the right word to describe whatever it was you two were.

But that’s just how the two of you are, how you’d always been. If you were being honest, riling him, seeing that usually so stoic, so controlled expression crack when you pushed just the right buttons— it was fun. You thoroughly enjoyed fucking with him, discovering new and creative ways to get under his skin. And you knew he got just as much satisfaction from doing the same to you, rendering you speechless with witty comebacks, flustering you with his sharp tongue and impressive rebukes.

So really, was it such a terrible thing?

Not to mention, a number of not-so-terrible things occurred as a result of one of your many arguments, such as hiring him as your calculus tutor. One that started out with you claiming he would probably be the shittiest teacher to ever exist (which seemed a valid argument at the time considering how short tempered and impatient he could be *cough* with you *cough*) to which he rebutted with the claim that he could “teach a goldfish advanced calculus” if he set his mind to it, and considering that you “had an IQ equivalent to one”, he could without a doubt teach you. His words, obviously.

It just so happened that you had a calculus exam coming up that next week, so to prove his point, he tutored you for the three days preceding said test. Even though you loathe being proven wrong, you ended up getting one of the highest scores you’d ever gotten on a math test in your entire academic career.

Putting your pride aside, you made the suggestion that he continue to tutor you. He only agreed when you offered him green in exchange for his troubles and admitted that he was right (it took a few extra hours to convince yourself that your grades should be held above your ego before you could bring yourself to verbally admit defeat).

And now here you are, not flunking out of calculus. You’d consider that worthy of the bruise to your pride, even if only by a small margin.

“Kyungsoo, why’d you mark this one wrong?” You frown at the large red X marking problem two as incorrect. You’d been glaring at your scribbled work for almost two minutes, running over the problem in your head, but you couldn’t seem to figure out where he thought you’d gone wrong. It looks right enough to you.

Kyungsoo shifts over to get a better look, his arms pressing against yours in the process and you are briefly stunned by the sudden, unexpected closeness, wholly unable to stop yourself from noticing the faint, woody scent of his aftershave that caresses your senses. Fuck. You can’t tell if you hate or love the fact that he smelled so good. Partly love it because good hygiene is always something to admire in a man (even if that man was Doh Kyungsoo), partly hate it because dammit it’s Doh Kyungsoo and you loathe finding anything that has to do with him attractive. Plus, it’s distracting. You’re here trying to learn and he has the audacity to go around smelling like pine trees and fresh moss after a rainfall. Unfair.

“Right here.”

The scowl you don’t realize you’re wearing immediately drops away as the low baritone of his voice thrums through the cavity of your ribcage and you lean forward to see exactly what he’s pointing at.

“You multiplied straight through instead of distributing.” He explains further upon seeing the uncertainty on your face. A few seconds of further inspection and you finally see what he’s talking about.

“Fuck,” you hiss, “I’m so stupid.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make.” He reassures.

“Yeah, but I should know that by now, I should’ve—” you turn your head, only to nearly choke on air as you discover that any space that once existed between the two of you has virtually disappeared, “... seen it.”

He’s close, so close that you can feel the cool rush of his breath against your skin as he exhales, goosebumps bristling across your arms in response. He’s close. Too close. You can’t think straight, can’t even breathe. The moment that surrounds you feels fragile, like even the slightest disruption would rupture it completely.

Frozen, you can only swallow around the sudden dryness of your mouth as your treacherous eyes drop to trace the plush line of his lips. Who even has lips like that? They’re just so big and so pink, that dark, kissable kind of pink that every girl just wishes her lips could be. You, included. They look soft, and you can’t help but to wonder if they’d still taste like the strawberry bubblegum he’d been chewing on at the beginning of your tutoring session.

“Careful, ___.” The sound of Kyungsoo’s voice, raspier than you recall it being before and laced in a faintly taunting pitch, is enough to break you from your trance and, once freed, you whip your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash.

“Fuck off.” You cough, jaw clenching as you attempt to drag your mind out from the gutter and back onto the calculus problems you have yet to correct. But for whatever reason your brain refuses to cooperate, instead filling your head with images of his pretty mouth and everything it could be doing instead of rambling on about something as uninteresting as calculus. Damnit.

No doubt seeing the distress written clearly across your face, Kyungsoo chuckles, the sound low and smooth where it drips from his lips, and a familiar heat blossoms in the pit of your stomach.

You can feel his eyes on you now, every cell of your being suddenly hyperaware of his presence beside you. The pressure of his knee where it nudges against yours, the teasing curl of his lips as he watches you struggle to focus, the warmth of his palm caressing up your thigh, the— wait what?

Your gaze whips down, breath hitching at the sight of Kyungsoo’s hand gently gripping the lagging clad flesh just above your knee. It’s another few seconds before you’re able to find your voice again.

“W– What’re you—?”

“Focus.” He cuts you off smoothly, fingers soothing over the inside of your leg, squeezing gently. When you don’t look away from him, he smirks, jerking his chin forward in a manner you can only interpret as challenging. There’s a familiar glint in his eye, a dangerous glint that doesn’t fail to provoke your competitive side. You know that look well. He’s challenging you.

And you don’t back down from a challenge.

Especially not from Doh Kyungsoo.

Determination flairs up inside of you, your jaw clenching as you strike him with a single, heated glare that read plain and simple ‘you. are. on.’ before honing all your attention onto the worksheet in front of you. It’s not too difficult to focus at first, to disregard the tingles that erupt across your skin where his hot touch sears into it. You manage to find and correct your error in one of the problems (impressive for you even if Kyungsoo wasn’t feeling your leg up under the table).

But whatever pride you find in doing so is quickly quelled when his hand suddenly shifts higher, and you feel the faintest pressure against your heat. It’s a sensation that robs you of your ability to breathe entirely for a handful of seconds, and you can’t stop the shiver that ripples down your spine.

This, you see, is one of the more recent developments in your oh-so complicated relationship with Doh Kyungsoo. Yet another that began with a disagreement at a party, over something you can’t even remember anymore thanks to the haze of alcohol that clouded both your minds at the time, that spiraled way out of proportion. You remember yelling at him, insulting him, stabbing your finger into his chest, feeling the sting of his lethal glare. God, he’d looked so pissed off, and you just fed off of it, fed off the rage and the frustration that festered like lava in those dark brown eyes. The angrier he got, the harder you pushed, until he finally snapped.

You’re still not sure what you expected to happen. What you expected him to do. But you sure as hell hadn’t anticipated him grabbing you by the throat and pulling you into one of the hottest, most mind numbing kisses you’d ever experienced.

Next thing you remember is being in a bed. Whose bed it was, isn’t important. What is important, however, is the fact that that night you had the best sex of your entire life with the man you thought you couldn’t stand.

Hate sex with Doh Kyungsoo opened your eyes to a whole new world of mind boggling pleasure that you’d never experienced before. Pleasure that no other person had ever been able to give you. God, the things he did to you. No one had ever touched you like that before. It was like he knew all the places on your body that made you unravel. He honestly ruined all other men for you that night because none have even come close to comparing. Which was beyond frustrating especially considering that, at the time, you thought it was a one time thing.

The morning after you both pretended that nothing happened. In the two weeks following as well, neither one of you mentioned it. You tried to erase the memory from your brain, tried to go back to normal, but it was hard considering every time you needed some sexual release (which was more often than you care to admit), it was his hands, his mouth, his cock that you imagined while you touched yourself. You replayed his moans in your head, his deep, rasping voice growling your name, and fuck, you never came harder.

But it was still nothing compared to the real thing.

As time passed you only grew more and more frustrated. Worst of all, you could tell he was feeling it too. It was obvious in the way he looked at you, with fire burning in eyes, in the way he spoke to you, with a pitch of something hot and wanting in his voice, in the way he lost his cool far quicker and far more often than he had in the past, your arguments fiercer and more frequent than they’d ever been. The tension between the two of you was palpable, thick enough to be cut with a knife. It got to the point where even your most oblivious of friends started noticing it as well, though they knew better than to voice their curiosity.

The second time it happened, you were both sober and, somehow, it was even better than you remembered. The pleasure was more intense, more overwhelming, a feeling you can’t even put into words. Then it kept happening. Late at night when he’d show up unannounced at your door. Early in the morning when you had an important exam later in the day and you needed some pre-test de-stressing. Between classes in the back seat of his car just because you could. At parties when your friends were too shit faced to notice the two of you slipping into an unoccupied bedroom.

Just sex. That’s what you both agreed to when it became blatantly obvious that your little ‘arrangement’ wouldn’t be coming to an end any time soon. No strings. Just sex. Just really, really good sex.

And that was perfectly fine by you.

Exhaling shakily through your nose, you try to block out the feeling of his thumb as it begins to caress gently up and down your clothed core, suddenly very grateful for the layers of fabric that separate you from his intoxicating touch. But it’s a gratitude that’s short lived. Just as you manage to adjust and scribble down a correction, he cups his hand over your mound and squeezes. A gasp escapes you, and you try to cover up the sound with a series of short coughs, the sting embarrassment intertwining with the warmth of pleasure as a few eyes briefly glance in your direction.

“You’re such an asshole.” You hiss under your breath, thighs tightening around his hand, locking it in place.

He throws you a lopsided grin, brows lifting and you don’t miss the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I’ve been called worse.” What he means is you’ve called him worse.

Your lips part, but any intelligible words die on the tip of your tongue as he grinds the heel of his palm down, directly against your clit. Your head drops, eyes squeezing shut, teeth locking down firmly on your lower lip in order to silence the soft moan that threatens to break free.

“F- fuck.”

You hear him coo tauntingly beside you at your slip, the tips of his skilled fingers easily locating your entrance and prodding experimentally. At this point, you don’t doubt he can feel the fabric of your leggings growing hot and wet with your arousal.

Despite being used to the quick effect he had on your body, you can help but to feel the slightest twinge of shame at how he was able to rile you up this much with little more than a few well-placed strokes of his fingers. But fuck, it felt so good. You’d already been feeling somewhat deprived since you’d both been so busy this past week with exams and projects and what not. This is the first time you’re spending time with him since almost a week ago.

And you are in need of a fix.

“You look like you’re having a bit of trouble on that problem. Do you need my help?” Kyungsoo leans into you, his face right up next to yours, and you have to resist the sudden urge to kiss him right then in there in front of everyone in the stupid library.

Instead, you grit out an unconvincing, “I’m fine,” and force yourself to stay focused on the dizzying mess of numbers and letters on the worksheet in front of you and not on the delicious warmth of his hand where it is applying just the right amount of pressure to keep you teetering between pleasure and the insatiable need for more.

“You sure?” There’s a certain lightness to his voice that tells you he is thoroughly enjoying watching you struggle. Sadistic bastard.

“Positive.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You almost gasp as a rush of cold air fills the places he had been, and you can’t help the frown that tugs at the corners of your lips, disappointment and irritation coloring your features before you can reel them in. From the corner of your eye, you chance a glance in his direction. The smug, knowing little smirk staining his lips sends a wave of heat pulsing into your cheeks, and you grit your teeth in frustration.

“So what, you’re just going to stop?” You whisper sharply, not making any attempt whatsoever to hide your annoyance.

A look of feigned innocence overcomes his features. “You said you didn’t need my help.”

You grit your teeth, glaring at him as hard as you can manage with how incredibly turned on you are. But he remains unfazed.

“If you want my help,” he continues, voice dropping an entire octave, “you’re going to have to ask for it... nicely.”

Nice wasn’t a word in your vocabulary when Kyungsoo was involved.

Seeing the resistance you are still putting up, he feathers his fingers over your thigh, tracing slow designs across the thin, black fabric. You swallow, unable to look away as they trail dangerously higher, teasing closer to where you both knew you wanted them most.

“You do want it, don’t you?”

Fuck, you want it so bad.

You know that he knows you want it. It’s just the getting yourself to actually say it out loud part that proves to be a challenge. But that’s exactly what he wants you to do, he wants to hear you say it, wants to see you cast aside your stubborn pride and beg for it. Beg for him.

Lifting your eyes, you glance unsurely around the library. It isn’t overly crowded anymore since most of the other students have begun to trickle out as late afternoon approaches. Plus, the table you were seated at was tucked into the far back corner of the room, secluded and out of the way. But still, your nerves buzzed at the thought of someone seeing. Though maybe — just maybe — there was a buzz of something else as well. Excitement, perhaps?

Grip tightening around your pencil, you chewed on the corner of your lip, refusing to meet Kyungsoo’s penetrating gaze as you let out a soft murmur. “...ease.”

He leans closer, mirth shimmering in his eyes. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Groaning, you shoot him a scowl, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Please help me, asshole.”

Laughter bubbles at his lips, the genuine kind that makes his cheeks lift and his nose wrinkle. You like it when he laughs like that. Makes him look a lot less like a serial killer.

Sinking his teeth into the pillowy flesh of his lower lip to stifle his laughter, he shoots you a lazy grin, “that’s all you had to say.”

Next thing you know, his hand is slipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and into the soft cotton confines of your underwear. Your mouth fell open, a sharp inhale filling your lungs with cold air as his fingers slid through your slick folds.

“I knew you were wet but shit.” He hisses, thick brows furrowing at the feeling of your heavy arousal coating the length of his digits. “I must say, I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” you breathe, eyes fluttering, “even Chanyeol can get me this— ngh!”

Without warning, he plunges his middle finger inside of you, and the remainder of your sentence pitches into a strangled moan. One look at his face, jaw clenched, nostrils flared, lips down turned, tells you he isn’t all too pleased at the mention of another man’s name, especially when he’s the one buried knuckle deep in your greedy cunt.

A hazy smirk curls onto your lips and you let out a low hum of pleasure, walls squeezing around him. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.”

“Is that why you enjoy pissing me off so much?” He questions, tone biting and low, and you shutter involuntarily as he rolls the pad of his thumb harshly over your aching clit.

“Partly.” You admit, somewhat breathless. “But you’re also just a really fun person to piss off.”

He chuckles dryly in response, though the sound lacks any genuine amusement. “You are such a brat, you know that?” He emphasizes the word by stretching you around a second finger, and you have to drop your pencil in favor of clasping your hand over your mouth, unable to swallow down the soft whimpers that tremble up your throat.

“You love it.” You manage to get out before you’re forced to bite into the tender flesh of your palm to muffle a desperate cry when the slow thrusts of his digits suddenly picks up speed. Your thighs squeeze around his hand, hips jerking up to grind your throbbing clit against the heel of his palm. Electricity ricochets through your veins, and you feel that distinctive tightening in the pit of your stomach. Kyungsoo also feels the way you throb and clench around him, and makes sure to grind down hard against your swollen clit.

Heat immediately spreads through your core, the intensity of the pleasure becoming more than you can handle. “Oh god, Kyungsoo.” Your voice comes out louder than you intended, and you quickly duck your head, doing your best to make it seem like you’re focusing on your work and not the fingers drilling relentlessly into your g-spot, praying to god that no one had seen the blissed out expression on your face. Still, you can’t help the quiet whine that escapes you when his ministrations slow.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” He asks in less than a whisper, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “Ever hear of subtlety?”

“Ever hear of suck my dick?” You snap back without missing a beat, only to jolt as his fingers curl inside of you, pressing directly against that sensitive bundle of nerves. Every muscle in your body tenses, and fuck you’re so close you can almost taste it. Frantically, you thrust your hips, desperately trying to fuck yourself down on his digits.

“Sit still.” He growls, and you quiver when he sinks his teeth into the lobe of your ear, obeying only because you really don’t want to get banned from the campus library if someone happened to catch on.

“Soo— fuck,” the force with which you bite into your lip is nearly about to break the skin, but you can’t be bothered by the pain, not with how quickly your orgasm was approaching. Sensing as much, Kyungsoo goes the extra mile of drawing hard, fast figure eights over your clit with his thumb while simultaneously thrusting his fingers into you so fast that you swear you can almost hear it.

All at once fire roars through your veins, euphoria consuming you as your high crashes over you. Your walls spasm around his digits, painting them with your release.

He doesn’t withdraw from you until you go slack, thighs spreading, body slumping back in your chair, eyes fluttering as a hazy, blissed out smile touches your lips. You can only watch through hooded lids as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, sighing in amazement as he sucks them clean. There’s a twinge of arousal in your core as he moans softly at the taste of you on his tongue, a downright lethal sound that somehow manages to rouse your positively spent pussy.

This man is going to be the absolute death of you one of these days.

“Fuck.” You chuckle airily, heady gaze flickered over him lazily, only to do a double take when you notice something standing upright beneath the zipper of his jeans. The corners of your lips twirled into a mirthful grin, eyebrows raising slowly.

“Need some help with that?”

“Yes.” He answers shamelessly and without hesitation, grunting softly as he adjusts himself in the tight confines of his jeans to make the raging hard-on he’s sporting somewhat less obvious. “But not here.”

“I figured. So... your car or mine?”

“Didn’t you just get a new one with reclining seats?” He questions, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of his lip at the mere implication.

You strike him with a wicked grin, already beginning to shove your things into your bag. “I did indeed.”

“Then what are we— wait.”

“What?”

“You didn’t finish correcting the worksheet yet.” He points out, drumming his fingers across the paper that had completely slipped your mind.

You pull a face, pausing in the act of gathering your belongings long enough to cross your arms pointedly over your chest. “No offense, Kyungsoo, sweetheart, but I’d much rather suck your dick than do one more of those stupid fucking calc problems.”

His brows leap to his hairline, and he offers a single nod of acceptance, in no position to argue with such a valid point.

“Noted.”