#i might clean up that lil silver too he's just. he's just sitting there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

supernaturalgirl20 · 3 years ago

Note

hi baby! if you’re taking requests might i indulge you in the scenario of Din where he captures you, the bounty, and you try to persuade him to let you be his “mechanic” instead, but like y’all wind up fucking 🙈🙈

You can choose how everything goes and add anything else you’d like love 💜💜

Thank you my dear for this delicious ask 🥰 I had loads of fun writing this 😏

Mechanic

Pairings: Din Djarin x reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, p in v smut, blowjob, Lil bit of dark!Din, cursing.

A/N: this is pure filth and I’m not sorry 😏 blame @anaaaispunk for fuelling the fire 😉

Sitting in the cantina, you scan your surroundings for immediate threats. Realising your ok, for now at least, you let out a sigh of relief. You’d lost count of the number of weeks you’ve been on the run, and for what, killing some ex empire general or something. You did them a favour really, pity no one else saw it that way. So here you are on another planet hiding. God I hope this isn’t going to be my life. It’s exhausting. You make your way to the bar and order another spotcha, the door to the cantina opens, nothing note worthy except the whole place goes dead quiet. Intrigued, you look to see what’s grabbed everyone’s attention. It’s like you’ve seen a ghost, except it’s not a ghost, it’s a man covered in a silver armour. Fuck! They sent a fucking mandalorian, they must be desperate now. You try to act normal, grab your drink and sit back at your table. Shivers run down your spine as he walks past. Closing your eyes, you wait, wait for him to point a blaster at your head, but it doesn’t come. Opening your eyes slowly, you see he walked right past you to another booth. He doesn’t even look in your direction. Maybe he’s not here for me after all. I’m just being paranoid.

***

It’s late when you finally leave the cantina, walking slowly back to the inn. There’s a tiredness in your bones and you can’t wait to lie in bed and finally get some sleep. Entering your room you switch on the light. When the room becomes illuminated you let outa scream.

“Jesus, what the fuck Mando, you scared the shit out of me. How did you know this was my room? Actually how did you get here before me, when I left you were still there sitting, stiff as a board.” You snigger at that.

“Are you done?”

“Oh lighten up, Tin can.”

You both just stare at each other, daring the other to make the first move. He’s on his feet and has you pinned to the door quicker than lightning.

“Not so smart now, are you?”

“Hhmm, I like where this is going, Mando, how did you know I like it rough?” You have a sly smirk and you quit laughing your eyebrow at him. You can hear him let out a sigh.

“We’ve been doing this for too long, you’ve had your fun, enough is enough. Time to bring you in.”

He lets go of you and stands back slightly.

“Get your things, your coming with me.”

He can see your shoulders drop a little, “fine you win.”

He’s stunned. Eyes wide in shock that you haven’t resisted harder. He’d expected you to. Silently hoped you would. Not that you could see, his face hidden behind the helmet.

“Do I have to cuff you? Or will you behave?”

“I promise I won’t run.” Pushing you in front of him, “walk.”

***

Walking towards the crest you ask Mando if you can freshen up. Pointing you in the direction of the fresher, he makes his way to the cockpit setting the coordinates. He doesn’t feel right about this, bringing you in. As far as he’s concerned you did the galaxy a favour. One less imp to deal with. Your worth a lot of credits though and bounties have been slow lately, the ship needs some repairs. He’s lost in his own head when you make your way towards him.

You slipped into something more “revealing” , a dress you’d picked up on tattooine. You put your hand on his pauldron and he looks up at you through his visor.

“Mando, do you really have to bring me in? I mean I’m a nobody, you could pretend I got away?” He is scowling at you under the helmet. “Ok I know, I wouldn’t get away from you, not believable. You killed me then?”. If you could see his face you would see the awe in his eyes. It’s like you can read his mind. You slide into his lap and straddle him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t touch you. You adjust yourself so your right over his hardening member. You swear he lets out a growl. Leaning into him you whisper beside where you think his ears are.

“You know, you could keep me….here..with you. I work as your mechanic, you need one right?”

“Do you even know anything about ships?”

“Eh..well no, but I’m a fast learner.”

“No.”

You slowly grind your hips over his cock. He grips the seat a little tighter, smiling to yourself you let out a low moan. He’s completely hard now, you can feel him at your core. Then an idea strikes. Biting your lip you lean into him again.

“I’m sure you could think of something for me to do. You know…like you!” His hand grips you hard, stopping you in your movements. His voice is harsh now.

“Enough!”

You slowly lean back so your face is directly in front of his visor. You need to try something else!

Slowly, you lift up your dress, revealing your dripping cunt to him. You hear him take in a breath. Placing two fingers in your mouth you suck on them before moving them downward. Once you reach your aching core you slip them inside, moaning at the sensation.

“Oh god…yes…just that like that Mando…yes….fuck me so good.” Without warning he pulls your fingers out, brings them to his helmet, lifts the bottom revealing his mouth. That mouth, Jesus he has a moustache. He sucks them clean before placing the helmet back down fully. Suddenly he stands, gripping your ass tightly. You wrap your legs around his waist as his walks towards the ladder. Putting you down, “go down, put these on, and wait.” He hands you his magnetised cuffs. Unable to speak you just nod in understanding.

Once you secure the cuffs, your suddenly drenched in darkness. What the? A hand grips you around the neck, pushing you towards the wall of the ship. Your arms are placed over your head and secured to the wall. “Think you can tease me do you, that you can fuck your way free, is that it?”

His voice it’s so deep, even without the modulator. Then it finally dawns on you, he’s helmet-less. His stubble is rough against your skin, sending heat straight bro your core. You try moving your hips against him, but he grips your waist tight stopping you.

“Ah ah, you’ve been a bold girl, bold girls don’t get to come.”

“Do you think you deserve to stay here with me, for me to forgo my credits on you?”

“Yes, Mando please, I’ll do anything.”

“I’m going to release your hand now, your going to be a good girl and get on your knees.”

When he releases your hands you drop straight to the ground. He pulls his pants down, grips you at the back of your head and brings you toward his cock. “Your going to take my cock in your mouth aren’t you pretty girl? Show me how badly you want to stay with me!”

He tilts his head back and groans as he feels your hot, wet mouth take him in. You run your tongue up the length of him and tease around the tip. He’s desperate for release, having you tease him all night, so he shoves his cock further into your mouth and begins fucking your face.

“That’s it pretty girl, your doing…so well….taking my cock like that.”

He comes down the back of your throat and you swallow it all. He steps back, stripping completely before he lifts you to your feet. He moves you to his cot and rips your dress off you. You let out a slight squeal as the cool air hits your bare skin.

“Can you take off the cuffs please?”

“Only if you promise not to touch?”

“I promise.”

Once he removes them you go to rub the skin on your wrists. He stops you and brings them to his lips and gently kisses around them. “Did I hurt you?”

“No it’s ok, I’ve had worse.”

“I bet you have.”

“Hands over you head, remember no touching.”

He kisses around your neck, slowly kissing his way down, over your breasts, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking hard. You moan at the sensation of his stubble on your bare breasts. He moves down again, begins kissing your inner thighs, your a writhing mess below him. He licks a strip over your folds before shoving his tongue inside. Your body is tingling all over. There’s a heat in your core threatening to combust. Hey sucks on your clit before pumping two fingers inside you. He takes you over the edge and…pulls away.

“No! Why did you stop. Please please I need you Mando. Fuck me.”

He hovers over you and kisses you gently on the lips.

“Din.”

“Hmm what?”

“My name….it’s Din. I want you to know what to call me when you come.”

“Din, it suits you. Now fuck me.”

He lines himself up and fills you completely with one thrust.

“Fuck….so tight….take me…so well.”

He grabs your leg and wraps it around his hip, giving him a better angle. His thrusts are hard and fast and you come screaming his name.

“Fuck, Din….yes.”

You move your hands down to gently hold his face and he freezes. You forgot yourself, caught up in the moment, forgetting he asked for you not to touch him. You reckon it’s something to do with his creed. Worried he will pull away from you, you go to pull your hands away.

“I’m sorry, no touching.”

He kisses you gently on the lips. Grabbing your hand in his own, he slowly brings it back to his face. He closes his eyes at the feeling of you there. Something he hasn’t felt since he was a child. “It’s ok.”

He kisses you again before thrusting into you again. He’s slower this time and you feel all of him now, every ridge, every vein, it’s so intimate even though you can’t see him. Your coming hard again in no time, cunt clenching him tight as he spills inside you. He rolls off you and pulls you into his side.

“So does this mean I can stay?!”

“I suppose. I might need more convincing.”

You laugh as you straddle him, “you better buckle up so, your in for a long night.”

Tagging:

Everything: @lunaserenade @day-off-inkyoto @librariantothejedi @seasonschange-butpeopledont @elinedjarin @maievdenoir @pascal-rascal424 @kirsteng42 @thorins-queen-of-erebor @dihra-vesa @loserrlauraa @asta-lily @absurdthirst @ikinmahlen @javierpinme

Din Djarin: @agingerindenial @covidihateu

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian smut #pedro pascal x female reader

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hannie-dul-set · 4 years ago

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virtue of humility [choi seungcheol]

“humility /(h)yo͞oˈmilədē/ — a modest or low view of one's own importance; humbleness.”

LUCKY 7′S MASTERLIST

PAIRING | prince! choi seungcheol x musician! reader (f) GENRE | royal! au, romance, fluff WARNINGS | none <3 WORD COUNT | 4.8k

a/n: hello!! :> my pieces for the collab are a little different from lila and gina’s because i went for a more thematic approach. nevertheless, i hope you’ll still enjoy <33 also the language is a lil oldsey-timesey HJSHF just a heads up HAHA

Prince Seungcheol had never thought of the glimmer of the crown perched on his head as something more significant than an accessory. Though bearing an extra weight with the dazzles of its heavy ruby and sapphire embellishments, it felt as if it wasn’t even there. But for most of his waking hours, the prince would resign from wearing it— head barren from the symbol of his nobility.

“But you’re the prince,” his Royal Advisor, Jeonghan, had once said. “What service will your people owe to you when they know not who to serve?”

“Is it not the prince's duty to serve? To meet the needs of his people?” a smile plastered on his lips, Seungcheol answered, pushing the golden wreath back into his advisors hands. “I am a servant just as I am a prince. There is no need for grandeurs such as these.”

Jeonghan had never roused the same question again.

The same could be said today; strolling over the family of large rocks beside the crystal stream, Seungcheol gleamed as the wind brushed like whispered breaths through his hair, uncovered by the weight of his crown. He eyed a school of silver fishes swimming against the light current of water, crouching down on the rough stone to look at them closely. A content sigh breezed past his lips, and he dipped two fingers on the water’s clean surface, the sudden cold kissing his fingertips sending a slight shiver down his spine. There was no one else around the stream— Seungcheol would know since he spends almost every other day in solitude here.

He liked being in the palace. He liked being around the people he loved, and those who loved him just as much. But Seungcheol also liked being alone from time to time.

Although it seemed that he wasn’t alone. The faint, but definite sound of singing was telling him so.

It was far. But despite the distance, Seungcheol noticed someone— the silhouette of what appeared to be a lady sitting atop the identical looking clump of rocks in front of the same stream he was in front of, only opposite from where Seungcheol was. It was either his curiosity or the sweetness of the voice’s notes beckoning him to move closer, but when he was halfway there, he concluded that it was a mixture of both.

Seungcheol found it unusual for anyone other than himself to be here. It was unspoken, but all the residents of the Northern Empire’s village knew that the prince frequented this spot, and therefore they all stayed away out of respect for his peace. It was a shame, really. Prince Seungcheol would have welcomed any other presence outside of his into his supposed private hideout. Therefore the appearance of the mysterious girl was a sort of shooting star for him— a brief flash of bubbling hope that you’d have to quickly grasp before it disappears once more.

And so he moved at a quicker pace to catch you.

You, on the other hand, were sitting peacefully on top of the hard, grey, rock, the hem of your skirt barely fluttering over the stream’s mouth as your legs were stretched over the tough surface. The echoes of your singing were fairly silent— though apparently that wasn’t the case seeing that you were loud enough for someone to approach you, and you immediately closed your mouth shut.

“Why did you stop? Are you not comfortable with eyes watching you as you sing?”

“I am not comfortable with a stranger’s eyes watching me. It does not matter whether I sing or not,” the man smiled at you— an apologetic smile, and he respected your wishes as he did not dare to close the distance of the stream that separated you both.

“I apologize for making you uncomfortable,” he said, propping himself down on the rocky surface. “But it is rare to have someone other than myself to be here. I would like to make your acquaintance, if you may.”

You eyed him suspiciously, and you could tell that he noticed your distrust because he shot you the most charming display of a smile that anyone has ever sent you. “Do you own this area? I’m not trespassing, am I?” you pressed, and it took him a few moments of silence before he responded.

“Well yes, I suppose,” he answered, and there was a flash of panic running through you upon realizing that you had just wandered into this man’s property without his prior knowledge. You were lucky that he seemed to be forgiving. “Though, I’m always willing to share. That is if you share something of yours, as well.”

To share? You had nothing to share even if you wanted to.

“What could I possibly share with you?” your brows furrowed. “You noticed me from as far as dozens of spaces away, yet upclose you cannot seem to see that I am empty handed.”

If he wanted you to leave, he could have just said so. But he also said that he wanted to make your acquaintance, so what were you to take out of it? He wanted you to stay but for you to stay you had to give. But he knew and could see that you had nothing to give, so what could he want?

“Your name.”

He said. The stray kisses of the sun's rays served as a transparent crown of gold above his head as he uttered his sentiments with a blinding smile. “You can share with me your name.”

That was none of what I expected, you thought, pressing your lips together in a tight line to mask even a sliver of your amusement, but it would only take one quick glance for anyone to notice the smile trying to fight its way into your face. To be frank, you weren't aware of what you were expecting— but you had assumed that you would be staying here for much longer. It appeared that it wasn't the case anymore. He knew how to impress you, but you had cards of your own. “But that would mean that you’d have to share your name, too. And I’d have nothing else to give after that.”

There was silence that occupied, but with the unrelenting nature of his smile, you could only assume that he was unbothered by your challenge. You continued to look at him from across the stream, the rippling of its waters flooding into your ears before he finally decided to speak,

“I will be giving you my name for free,” his tone mimicked that of the running water— calm, gentle. Without a trace of impurity in its crystal clear vulnerability. “So there is no need for you to remain at an unease.”

The nameless man stood from the slippery edge, blocking the sun away and it looked as if he, himself, was the blazing sun. The dimples on his cheeks— details that you have overlooked before and had only been captured by your eyes now— made a shy appearance in accordance with the upturn of his mouth’s corners.

“Seungcheol.”

“Y/N.”

He took this as an invitation to finally be allowed to cross the stream, and so he did, the water sloshing around his ankles as he pushed forward. It wasn’t too deep, thankfully, and only the bottom part of his dark trousers were drenched. Seungcheol positioned himself beside you, far enough not to invade your comfort, but close enough for you to feel his serene presence. “Is it alright for me to ask a question?” You nodded, urging him. “Are you from the Southern Empire, perhaps?”

Your brows raised. Huh, he was quick to notice that you were a foreigner. There were no physical distinctions that differentiated those from the Northern Empire, where you were right now, and the Southern Empire, where you actually lived. Maybe Seungcheol was familiar with those living around, and he thought that you looked unfamiliar. “Yes. How did you know?”

“You don’t seem like you’re from here.”

To Seungcheol, there were a few telltales indicating that you lived from the opposite land. One, you didn’t know that people tend to steer away from this place. And two— it didn’t look like you were aware that he was the prince. (This was why he hesitated in answering your question earlier. Technically, this was public property, but technically it was his, as well).

There wasn’t a need for him to tell you now, though. It wasn’t of importance, anyway.

“What brings you here, Y/N? Are you on a visit?”

“Half visit, I suppose,” you answered, and Seungcheol quirks a brow at this. “Half for an event.”

“An event? Is it the ball to be held at the palace this weekend?”

“Yes, that exactly,” you adjusted your sitting position, folding your legs as you looked at nowhere in particular in the midst of your thought. “I was lucky enough to be one few chosen by the music academy I’m in to play with the Northern ensemble. But of course I wouldn’t want to miss the chance to take a peek of the foreign empires sceneries.”

A grin was plastered on your face when you turned to look at the boy beside you, and it appeared that he was mirroring your expression. “I’ll be there, as well. Would that mean I’d be graced by the chance to hear you sing again?”

You lapsed, visibly flushed at his inquiry and you sat yourself straight as you were suddenly flooded by the realization that the reason he had found you was because of your singing.

“A-absolutely not," you stammered. "I play the violin.”

“Ah, I see,” he didn’t put an effort to mask his disappointment, and it wasn’t of any help to your already racing heart. You weren’t one to let just anyone to hear you sing— it was embarrassing. Yet this boy who you had just met today had already driven himself past your sphere of comfort, but you still found yourself just brushing it away, locking it away to someplace you’ll never find, just so the shame won’t be able to meet the light of day once again.

Seungcheol took note of your silence and he felt as if he were the cause of it. Fearing that he might end up chasing away a possible friend, he resorted to making conversation on a different topic, instead. “I heard that there were an abundance of herbs and spices in the North.”

You lightened up at this, relieved that he took a different route, and Seungcheol felt mirth tugging at his cheeks at your reaction. “Mhm. Is it not the case here?”

He shook his head. “Mining is the biggest industry here. We acquire all our herbs from yours.”

The sun was slowly rising higher into the sky, in sync with the prickling temperature. Though beside the stream, the breeze was crisp, cool kisses against your skin as you and Seungcheol talked the day away until it was already around lunch time and the morning's heat had finally made aware of its presence. And it also made you aware of the schedule you had for the remaining afternoon.

“Oh! How stupid of me to forget— ah!” in your rush to stand, you clumsily lost your footing on the slippery rock, the body of water inviting your immediate fall. But it never came, as Seungcheol was quick enough to catch you by the waist, pulling you into him in one swift motion.

It was the second time that you had buried your shame.

“Careful now,” he retracted his hold from you when you had finally caught your balance, the ghost of his touch sizzling amidst the sun’s heat. You stared at him, flustered, and he gave you a kind stretch of his lips. “You may be in a hurry, but it would be fruitless if you only end up soaking wet.”

“At least I’d be cool underneath this angry sun,” you reasoned, though still a bit dazed from the earlier rush. “Thank you.”

Seungcheol nodded a smile at you, steadily guiding your posture as you carefully puddled into the brook, feeling the cold water on your ankles when you did. He did not remove his gentle touch on your shoulders, nor did he keep his eyes off you even when you have finally crossed the waters, and you found yourself stirring— tides crashing harder than that of the stream. He only let go when the presence of the rocks were nowhere to be found anymore.

“May I ask what brings you in such a rush?”

The village was now in your short view, though you were still shielded by the barrier of birch trees lining the outside of the rural area. You were supposed to be at your temporary housing at around thirty.

“Practice,” you answered. "The ball is a mere seven days away.”

Seungcheol nodded at your sparing response. “I’ll be seeing you by then. Or perhaps tomorrow? That is If willing to keep me company again. It does get rather lonely with nothing but the fishes accompanying me. They aren't chatty fellows.”

The soft sound of your laughter was all he heard. You smiled at him, a smile that weighed heavier than his crown and he found his chest squeezing at the pressure.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Seungcheol.”

A week melted into days and days melted into minutes into seconds until you found yourself within the vicinity of your fellow musicians inside the blue haze of the Diamond Palace’s ballroom. The large hall mimicked that of a watery stream with the crystal linings of its walls, and the flooding bodies of the numerous visitors beamed like swimming sea creatures. You had not yet seen Seungcheol as of late, even though he promised that you’d meet once more today, for tomorrow was your day of departure.

Racing eyes accompanied by your racing heart moved in beats of impatience as you scanned the façade of water, only to leave you unsatisfied from the lack of his presence. You’ve only spent days with him— yet those days were enough to concur a sweetened taste of mutual longing.

On your second day, Seungcheol showed you a field of flowers a few strolls past the familiar stream. The third day ended with a rapid flurry of conversations about everything and nothing at the same time, and it resulted with you running late for your practice. It was all worth it, though, because it was also on that day that you had found out that Seungcheol hosted the most modest of souls out of all the empires. You accompanied him at the marketplace after you spent hours by the stream, and you witnessed him silently helping the vendors in small, simple ways without even whispering a word. On day four you’d gotten even closer. A stranger no longer was he. And on day five you felt the first of many butterflies swarming inside your stomach, and since then you had lost it.

You shared your first kiss on the sixth day, and the seventh ended with another.

It was quick, you had to admit. And it will end too quickly for your liking. Perhaps that was why the days felt like pages flipping through the thinnest book on the shelf, or a winter solstice in the middle of summer that has prolonged its visit for six days more. Though, you were determined to see him once again this evening, even if it took until the last warning of the ballroom’s final lit torch.

“Y/N, is your mind elsewhere? The ball is starting and we are to get in position at once. Hurry up,” the ushering voice of your companion, Jihye, was like the chirping of an annoying swallow that you wished to die down. Indeed, this opportunity to play for the Royal Family was an honor. But as you moved along with your travels across the empires, so had your priorities as they have shifted from the south to the north.

However, you didn’t want to cause any trouble— especially if it was only because of the selfishness of your desires. So with a disheartened sigh, you picked up your stringed instrument and melted into the orchestra as you waited for the Noble’s entrance.

It was difficult to fiddle with the violin when your heart was elsewhere, but you had to will yourself to focus so as to not bring shame to your academy’s name. You straightened your posture and positioned the instrument, and you maneuvered the bow in the same manner as you had tirelessly practiced for weeks. For a while, you had managed to rid yourself from the ghosting thoughts of Seungcheol.

That is until the Emperor, Empress, and Prince finally descended down the grand staircase, and the familiar swarm of butterflies fizzled into your chest— untamed and unforgiving as they drowned what semblance of peace you had managed to belatedly hold on to.

You had been aching to see Seungcheol’s face tonight, but this was none of what you had expected.

“Gracing before us, the heart of the Northern Empire— the Imperial Family!”

It was as if you were stricken by Cupid’s merciless arrows ten times over because only one was clearly not enough. Everyone around you had fallen their heads in a respectful bow, yet you still stood staring at the Prince in such a spell-bound daze until Jihye pulled you down with her like a ragdoll.

You couldn’t believe it.

Seungcheol and the Prince of the North were one and the same.

Were you mistaken? Did he not care for you enough to tell you that he was the actual heir to the Empire's throne? You raised your head upon sensing the movements of the people around you, but you were a beat behind since you still hadn’t recovered from the befuddlement inflicted on your senses. You were lucky enough to only be playing along one piece for tonight’s ball, else your performance would have been a disaster. Having managed to finish the piece with minor mistakes was a miracle in itself, but that’s where your miracles would end.

Because the moment the last note came to an end, the moment you were about to step down from the elevated stage along with your companions, you had noticed Seungcheol staring right at you.

He was smiling.

And the butterflies were almost impossible to contain.

You felt someone tugging at your arm, insisting you to leave, and so you reluctantly did— but not without sparing one last glance at Seungcheol, sitting high and mighty on his golden throne. He looked different, completely different from the boy the stream who you fleetingly fell for. But it was him all the same. His gorgeous smile telling you. You hoped that it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you when you noticed his smile melting into a sad puddle of a frown when you finally left.

“Is that the prince circling amongst the crowd?”.

“What?”

Jihye whispered from beside you as you rushed to the buffet, and you quickly snapped your head back to confirm, and your eyes were met with the familiar gaze of the ones you’d get lost into for hours on end. He shot you a grin upon eye contact, and you felt yourself starting to get dizzy.

It was him. Despite the barrage of bodies between you, you could immediately tell which pretty eyes were his.

Did he forget that he was the prince?! You saw him trying to chase after you, but you firmly shook your head as Jihye dragged you away, the distance between you stretching farther and farther. He looked confused, baffled in a frozen stance when you motioned to push him away. But he was the prince. No matter how you felt, no matter how desperately you wanted to be held in his arms and be swept by his lips on yours, he can’t be seen with you. You were beneath him, after all.

“Y/N, would you please hurry? Heavens, girl, what has gotten into you tonight?”

You couldn’t be seen with him.

“My apologies, Jihye, but I haven’t been feeling well since earlier,” you said. “I’ll resign to bed early tonight.”

Not with the lingering eyes of everyone in the ballroom.

“Oh dear, you better get some rest, Y/N. I’ll tell everyone else that you left early.”

You could only hope that Seungcheol understood the same.

The stream sparkled under the moonlight, as if the waters were littered with iridescent beads of glitter, swimming alongside the silver fishes that inhabited it. You carefully maneuvered over the rocky ground, hands gripping the fabric of your dress skirts upwards so you won’t trip over them and fall into the cold water. Seungcheol wasn’t here to catch you like last time.

You were still lost because of the information that you had belatedly found out, and you weren’t even given the chance to let it all simmer. Seungcheol was the prince of the Northern Empire¾ that you knew. Why he didn’t even give you the slightest hint about the significance of his identity that you didn’t know. And you were determined to find out before you took you leave tomorrow.

That is if he showed up tonight.

Words weren’t exchanged between the both of you, but maybe he understood the message that you tried to relay just by the look of your eyes The ball wasn’t to end until an hour or two, so you had a long time to lie in wait, sitting atop the clump of stones as you gazed down at your reflection on the water, the moon peeking behind your presence.

Though, you underestimated the prince. Because it hadn’t even been ten when he showed himself before you across the stream.

“Why did you depart so early without even allowing me to spend a second near your presence?” his voice held the sound of hurt, and it made you feel guilty almost. Seungcheol hurriedly dip his ankles into the stream, racing across it to get to you as if you would slip away if he were a second too late. You helped him up the harsh surface, and the first thing he did was caress your cold cheek with the warmth of his hand, fingers blazing like the sun’s rays as you felt them brushing against your skin. There was a pout on his lips when he spoke. “Had I done something wrong?”

You held his wrist with your hands, bringing them down but you didn’t let go of him, and then with a soft voice, you asked. “Why didn’t you tell me you were the prince?”

“I—” he was taken aback at your question, brows raised in surprise with the subtle pursing of his lips ever so evident. “I didn't think it was necessary.”

“You didn’t think it was necessary? Seung— Your Highness, that's the same as keeping your entire self from me,” you tried to let go of his hand, but he immediately snatched them back, intertwining your fingers into his once more without ever the intention of letting you go. Seungcheol was upset. He was upset because you didn’t call him by his given name. He was upset that you’re trying to make things change.

He was upset because he didn’t understand why the idea of him being the prince seemed so important to you.

“But I never kept myself from you, Y/N,” he reasoned, brows furrowed in frustration. “I may be the prince but that is only a title. More than anything else, I am Seungcheol.”

You stared at him, his eyes containing all the stars in the night sky, pleading for the night to stay longer as tomorrow meant seeing you no longer. His lips, so pretty and red against his glowing skin, tugged down in a tight frown that you oh so desperately wanted to kiss away.

“It pained me when you pushed me away earlier,” he muttered, a release of melancholic laughter stringing behind it. “Did you have a change of heart after a single instance?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, offended by his ridiculous assumption. “Do you know how people would react if they see the prince with a mere musician? I pushed you away because it was the right thing to do. Not because I wanted to.”

“Is it right to be dishonest?”

“That is not the point!” you weren’t able to cease the unprecedented elevation of your voice, but then you quickly slammed your fingers over your lips. Seungcheol noticed your gestures, only furrowing the heaviness he was feeling even further. “Please do not humble yourself for me, Your Highness. Do you not hold any importance to your title at all?”

“No.”

It was an immediate response. A response that carried neither regret nor hesitation— only sheer and sincere honesty. Though you stood before him, he looked at you as if you were so far away, yearning for you. “Prince or not, my heart remains the same. I still would have kissed you on the sixth.”

You weren’t prepared for his bold confession. Not at all because you found yourself slipping away from your presence of mind, an influx of emotions clogging your throat as you refused to meet his eye. Seungcheol lightly chuckled at your abashment, him ghosting his fingers underneath your chin so you would look at him. “Is there something wrong?” despite the worried tone of his question, a belated smile stretched on his face. He was mildly delighted seeing your flustered stance.

“You are the prince, Your Highness. Yet you treat me as though I were a goddess,” your eyes were wilting, apologetic under his presence. You brushed away his gentle hold, the warmth of his grazing touch disappearing as you did. “I don’t believe I deserve this, Your Highness. I don't deserve to be in your presence— much less to share a kiss with you.”

“Nonsense. You are deserving for the fact that it is what you and I both want. Why? Do you not want to kiss me?”

“You are impossible,” you breathed out amidst the brandishing of your nerves. “What would your parents say about this?”

“Nothing,” he simply stated. “They might have dictated my future, but they do not dictate how my heart feels.”

It felt as if the two of you were pushing and pulling back and forth for hours. It was mostly due to your own stubbornness, honestly. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want him. It wasn’t easy to mask something as wild and torrid as a stormy typhoon. You were trying your best because it was what you were supposed to do, but deep down you knew that one word from him would be enough to have you releasing your desperately, weakly, suppressed emotions.

“And my heart feels for you, Y/N.”

This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t fair. What chance did you have when it was he who was rendering you defenseless? You stared at Seungcheol, incredulous and so, so lost for him all the same. He was expectant of your response— you could tell from the way he looked at you with hopeful eyes which made you willing to forget that he was the prince because he was right. It didn’t matter. Not at all.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, and you took a single step closer towards him over the rough surface of the rocks.

“Does your offer for a kiss still stand?” you mused. “Or am I a second too late?”

Seungcheol’s eyes fluttered, both from surprise and from the fleeting feeling of delight. “You’re never too late,: he smiled at you, gaze pooling the drops of the moon’s light— endless, as if you could get lost in them. You leaned in. feeling the warmth of his breath tickling the skin on your face like invisible, teasing kisses. There was a lapse of hesitation running through you because was it alright for you to just have him right here and now? He didn’t seem to be protesting.

You were only seconds away from finally getting a taste of him, but he suddenly backed away at the last moment.

“But then you did waste a fair amount of time,” he wore a pondering pout on his lips, and stared at him wide eyed. But then he met your eyes with his dimpled grin blooming on his features. “Maybe you should make up for it by singing to me one last time before your departure.”

You rolled your eyes at him, dismissing the prince’s proposal. Instead you quickly grabbed the expensive fabric of his collar, pulling him towards you in a sudden motion, and snatched a swift kiss from his unguarded lips.

“The night is long, my prince,” you hummed. You weren’t sure why you were hesitant to be truthful to yourself earlier— it wasn't like anything had changed after all. The smile on Seungcheol’s face was still the same as the one you saw that morning. “Blackbirds won’t be singing until a few hours.”

“But you will sing for me now, won’t you?” he asked, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes.

You couldn’t help your lips from stretching into a wide grin. “It is only fair for me to do so.”

#lucky 7's #caratwritersclub #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seungcheol #choi seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seungcheol fluff #svt fanfic #svt fluff #prince seungcheol #prince seungcheol x reader

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hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

Note

hey I’m not sure if you’re taking prompt requests but I just had this idea if you ever want to write it. I know it’s not anywhere near New Years right now but I had an idea for if there was a little NYE party with all the ppdc staff there. All the homies are just vibing, getting crunk on shitty alchohol or whatever and y’know Newt and Hermann have a lil New Year’s Eve kiss 🥺

That’s all I have to say I hope you’re having a good day!

@owengrose said: Prompt: "My New Year's resolution is to finally tell him I love him."

happy new year’s eve to both of you!!! i let the first one sit in my ask box for a while before getting to it lol. my annual Newmann NYE fic. here’s to hoping next year is moderately better (and I actually get more writing done...)

-------

“Here we are, then,” Hermann says.

He hands Newt a glass of something he concocted at the lab kitchenette—judging by the color, and the pitiful wedge of a clementine garnish he squeezed onto the brim, some sort of gin and tonic, though less tonic and more watermelon La Croix. It was the only thing they could find in the breakroom fridge that would work remotely as a mixer. It’s probably been buried in there for months. “Thanks, dude,” Newt says. Then, noticing the lack of a similar glass in Hermann’s hand, asks “Not drinking?”

“None of that,” Hermann says. “I’ve got a bottle of decent wine buried somewhere under all the rubbish in my desk. I’ll have that if I want any before we go.”

“Suit yourself,” Newt says. “It’ll be more fun if we show up tipsy, I’m telling you.”

New Year’s Eve used to be a lot more exciting when Newt was in school, and young and invincible and all that shit. There were parties—bar crawls—the Times Square ball drop at midnight, queued up on someone’s laptop or a television screen wherever he was—drinking until he needed a classmate (or later colleague) to walk him home. The Shatterdome staff still goes as hard as Newt used to, and God, Newt envies them for it, but the end of the world kinda killed it for him. He just kinda exists in a low, humming state of anxiety now. He and Hermann both. It’s good for them to get out of the lab every now and then and strive for normalcy, and Newt has a feeling Hermann knows it, which is probably why he didn’t put up a fight when Newt suggested they go to the big base party tonight.

Newt still needs a good few drinks in him before he can drink more and pretend to be merry. He finishes the gin and tonic with a wince. “Too much gin,” he says. “Okay, let’s go.”

Newt drinks, and he dances with a few people, and he engages in a few genuine non-work-related-conversations before he finally admits to himself he’d rather just chill with Hermann in one of the deserted corners of the room. Hermann is waiting for him in a stupid gold party hat with a cup of water—what a guy. Always there for Newt. The hat is a cute look on him, too. Newt wonders if he picked it out himself, or if it was forced on him; either scenario is cute.

“I just don’t fancy dealing with your hangover tomorrow,” Hermann says with a sniff, as Newt swallows the water down gratefully after a few thanks. “Last year—”

“Yeah, okay,” Newt says. Last year was bad. He ended up falling asleep on the floor of the lab, and when Hermann made him coffee the next morning, he puked it up all over a very important stack of Hermann’s paperwork and the subsequent shouting match just made his headache worse. Drinking water is good, very good. He kicks his feet up on a nearby vacant chair. The music is loud, and people look like they’re having fun. Normalcy. He and Hermann are just two normal dudes right now, who aren’t fighting monsters from another dimension. “Can you believe we’ve survived another year?”

“Frankly, no,” Hermann admits.

“One whole year,” Newt says. “One whole year of not being squashed by a kaiju, or eaten by a kaiju, or murdered by you…”

Hermann snorts derisively, though a bit of a genuine smile does peek through. “One whole year of you not blowing the laboratory up. That is a feat, isn’t it?”

“You fucking bet it is,” Newt says. He really thought Hermann was going to kill him over the puking incident, and only a day into the new year too. He slings an arm around Hermann’s shoulders. Two normal dudes, and friends at that. He really likes Hermann, y’know, but that might just be the gin and watermelon La Croix talking. “You got any resolutions, dude?”

“Er,” Hermann says.

“I want to try to get into yoga,” Newt says. “For exercise, and shit. We should do it together.” Back when the base enjoyed more funding and workers, Newt was always seeing flyers for weekly yoga classes taped up in the elevator and at the announcement board in the mess; once, he got it so into his mind that he was going to start going that he bought three whole pairs of yoga pants. He never got around to it, of course. The classes kinda fizzled out when the PPDC budget was slashed drastically anyway. Hopefully YouTube videos work just as well, and that the pants still fit him...

“If I’m being honest, Newton,” Hermann says, and Newt spies the tips of his ears turning pink, how cute, “I still haven’t quite managed to accomplish last year’s resolution. Or technically this year’s, I suppose. My—well—my nerves failed me every time I thought I was close.”

"Eh, no big deal,” Newt says. “I never did mine either. I think that’s just as much of a tradition.” He went vegan for all of two weeks before realizing most of the rationing-standard food they served in the mess wasn’t exactly catered to those particular dietary needs. Also, Newt likes fancy lattes too much, and oatmilk just wasn’t kicking it for him. “I totally am gonna do the yoga one though. I need a stress reliever. I don’t wanna go bald before we’re even killed by kaiju, you know?” He crosses his legs. “Or go grey. I can’t decide which is worse. What was yours?”

“Nothing important,” Hermann says quickly. He takes a clumsy sip of his own cup of water, and spills a bit of it down his sweater. Newt decides not to mention. “It must be nearly midnight. Don’t you want to run off to find someone to snog?”

“Nah, not this year, I don’t think,” Newt says. Last year (before the whole blacking out and ruining the paperwork thing), he made out with a ranger he had a crush on for, like, months, and the guy never even called him back. And Newt slipped his official PPDC email into his pocket too. So totally rude. He reaches out and plucks the elastic string holding Hermann’s hat on, and is delighted when Hermann scowls. “You’re stuck with me. Why don’t you find someone to kiss?”

Hermann opens his mouth, and then shuts it. The blush is spreading down from his ears. “I am staying right here, thank you, and I am not kissing anyone.”

“Suit yourself,” Newt says.

“Five minutes to go!” someone in the crowd shouts.

Newt locates a party hat of his own on a nearby table and pulls it on. It’s silver, unlike Hermann’s. He doesn’t think it looks nearly as cute as Hermann’s. “What was your resolution?” he finally asks. The burning curiosity’s too much for him. What did Hermann mean by nerves? Hermann’s never afraid to speak his mind around Newt, at least—Newt can’t remember the last time he’s held back anything. This must be a pretty big thing.

“Oh, it hardly matters now,” Hermann says. “The year’s about to end, isn’t it? Better luck next go around, I suppose.”

“Were you going to request your own lab?” Newt says. That’s a big thing. And it’s a big thing he’d be hesitant to share with Newt, too. Not that Newt would be upset over having his own lab, obviously, sharing with Hermann totally sucks. It’s the worst.

“Mm. No,” Hermann says.

Newt feels a small twinge of relief, but only for a moment. “A different Shatterdome?” It’s the sort of thing Hermann’s always threatening—by Jove, Newton, if you don’t clean this mess up right now, I’m marching into the Marshal’s office, and I’m going to demand...

“Oh, it’s hardly that dramatic,” Hermann says. He plucks at the elastic of his hat this time. “It’s one minute until midnight.”

“Just tell me!” Newt says. Their fellow partygoers start counting down around them. “You’re killing me. I just wanna—”

“Ten—”

“It’s not important,” Hermann says.

“It is to me,” Newt says.

“It’s really not,” Hermann says.

“Tell me, tell me, tell me—”

“Fine,” Hermann says.

He grips the front of Newt’s shirt. Newt shuts up immediately. “I’m in love with you,” Hermann growls, “you wretched little man. That was my bloody resolution.”

“Oh, shit,” Newt squeaks.

Someone pops a bottle of champagne to loud cheers; confetti is suddenly raining down on Newt and Hermann. They totally missed midnight. “Oh, shit,” Newt repeats, and then, because Hermann looks utterly mortified and like he wants to book it out of there as fast as he can, thinks fuck it. He leans forward and kisses Hermann.

“Newton,” Hermann gasps, half in shock, half in delight, and returns it enthusiastically.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous #last fic of 2020!!!!#alcohol cw ///#emeto cw///#(brief ref)

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dewykth · 4 years ago

Text

SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle and @dewykth collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj word count. 7.5k+ warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳 i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter.

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head.

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry.

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel.

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation.

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go? Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

#bangtanhq #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #btsguild #btsgoldnet #cypherwritersnet #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic

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miss-bvnny · 3 years ago

Text

Yet another fan tweaks up TLK 2 and TLG: The Squeakel.

Im bored and in a lil pain. time to jot down all my personal ideas/headcanons for how I'd polish up TLK 2 and TLG to fit with the first movie a bit better, and create something more cohesive since like only about 3 people on the TLK2 and TLG teams paid attention to the first movie. I've seen a lot of hedcanons and AUS and whatnot in my day so I've kinda got a good idea of what i like and what I think might work better. Veteran TLK creators please interact with me and gib feedeback on my sick tricks

Uhhh TW for abuse and cub death

So...while there's TECHNICALLY nothing I'd change about the first movie, as it's pretty much done and solid, I wanted to play with my ideas for Zira's backstory.

YES in my version it'd be a one-sided love, kinda like how DemiiDee on dA and Silver-Wolf-17/@mask-of-prime see it, Scar knew she was obsessed with him since the day she met him as a cub, and took advantage of that. After he became king, he wanted loyal lionesses just in case Sarabi, Nala, Sarafina and the others got wise and rebelled. Zira and her pride sisters were all starving, and he knew that. He welcomed them in, promising food and comfort in return for their loyalty. Zira didn't hesitate to agree, and Scar loved her blind adoration of him. He WOULD have liked it if someone like Sarafina was so blindly in love with him (Scar had a gross unrequited obsessive crush on Sarafina growing up, and he constantly held it against her after she chose to be with Nala's father Mega instead. This is another reason why he was so hard on the hunting parties. He used his position as king to get petty revenge on childhood bullies and the like). Scar decided Zira would be his queen but like...ONLY because Sarafina had already made her choice. Zira didn't care, and knew she'd make Scar proud and produce a lot of wonderful heirs for him, in order to repay him for ''all he'd done for her'' (A very thin and insincere ''all'' if you ask me). So, Zira gets pregnant with who will eventually be Nuka, but...Rafiki takes a look at her and sees she's very weak and will probably only have one cub. Oh well. Let's just hope this one son is a suitable heir in Scar's eyes.

....Well-

Nuka's born. Weak, unfocused, and not at all what Scar wanted or was hoping for. He TRIES to teach Nuka and raise him as an Heir, but...it just doesn't work. Scar believes he was destined for greatness and for a prosperous, strong lineage. Nuka is none of those things, and it seems Zira will never be able to give him another heir (I KNOW the ''This woman can't have kids'' trope is icky but HOLD ON wait until you see where I'm going with this) Scar disowns Nuka and scolds Zira for disappointing him. Zira begs for his forgiveness, and swears on her life she'll find a way to make things worth Scar's while.

During this time, several of the male cubs who were born around the same time as Simba are being exiled. Scar doesn't want any males around to threaten overtaking him, and nips the problem in the bud before it ever becomes an issue. Many pride sister saw him doing this, and while they disagreed with it...it DID offer one bonus: Trustworthy males were leaving for better lands. They could take the new young cubs with them, since none of the sisters wanted their children to be raised in Scar's Pridelands.

Surprisingly, one of these lionesses trying to save her cubs...was Zira. Within the last few months, she'd...began to realize perhaps she was looking at Scar with rose-colored glasses. She was beginning to wonder if perhaps she was wrong to worship him the way she did. The thoughts were still kinda...new, and she wasn't sure what to do. But, during all her confusion, she DID happen to meet another male lion. Mpendwa, (Swahili for ''Honey'') was an old friend from her teenage years who was a wanderer by nature. Zira was VERY happy to see him again, after all these years. She met with him in secret, when Scar and the Hyenas weren't looking, and began to fall in love with him. REAL love. Mutual good love, where he loved her for who she was, and NOT what she could give him. Even Nuka seemed to like him, too! And...by some miracle, Zira and Mpendwa had a secret litter together! Four beautiful, healthy little cubs! It was perfect. SO perfect. Perhaps the problem had lain not in Zira, but in Scar the entire time. It served as more confirmation to Zira that...perhaps she was in the wrong to love him. Mpendwa asked her if she and their four cubs would come with him. Somewhere far and somewhere safe, where they could be happy together. Zira...was hesitant, afraid of disappointing Scar further, and even more afraid to leave her pride sisters behind. They were in this because of her, and...there were so many of them that it'd be impossible to get all of them out without Scar seeing something was up. Nevertheless, she knew she had to think about the future of her cubs, and NOT about Scar. She agreed, and plans were made for Zira and Nuka to meet Mpendwa at the border with her four cubs. In the dead of night, they'd leave using the rest of the evacuating males as a cover so they could make a clean getaway.

....Well...to make a very heartbreaking and gruesome story short...Scar knew about Mpendwa the entire time. And of course he saw Zira was pregnant. He overheard their plains to escape, and prepared accordingly. Mpendwa and three of Zira's cubs were killed as punishment for her disloyalty and attempt at mutiny. He lets her keep the youngest one alive as a reminder of her shortcomings, but ONLY if she'll swear her loyalty to him once more. With nothing else left to do, she swore her allegiance to him, and returned to the Pridelands with only Vitani and Nuka left of her family. In the coming days and months, Scar turns up the charm to further entice Zira, making sure she and Vitani are given the best of everything and taken care of, to ensure she feels terrible about what she did and she never acts out again. Sadly, it works, and Zira falls back in love with him, realizing SHE was the one in the wrong, and was an utter fool to betray Scar. Things are....steady for a while. Not bad, not good, but...steady for Zira and Scar. He of course ignores both cubs, and Zira has to reach out to him pleadingly if she wants to connect with him. Zira works as a willing mouthpiece to spout propaganda tot he rest of the pride, assuring then Scar is a GREAT king, their ONLY king, and that he will usher in a new golden age for them all. It pleases Scar and he is sure to...ever so slightly reciprocate his gratitude to her. If only to keep her totally convinced to stay with him. Zira can see he's...flaky and not too sure about her, and decides she MUST act fast to show him she is worthy.

She MUST somehow produce him a viable heir. And quickly. But with all the other males gone, there's not a whole lot of cubs being born. And her beloved Mpendwa is long dead. So...she has to figure something else out. One day, while hunting for Vitani and Nuka on her own, she runs across a skinny dark brown lone lioness taking a dead zebra somewhere. She tells Nuke and Vitani to wait, and begins to stalk this female, named Jibu (''Answer'') Jibu takes her kill to a secluded spot, and Zira notices she's having trouble catching her breath. It doesn't take Zira long to see...Jibu is pregnant. VERY pregnant, and close to giving birth. GIVING birth, actually! She's going into labor. Jibu cries out for mercy, knowing she is alone and there is no one around to help her. Zira, in a moment of maternal instinct and compassion, helps her. She, along with Nuka and Vitani, stay by Jubi's side as she gives birth to one little brown cub. Then, Zira gets...a really really REALLY terrible idea, just looking at the little cub. Calmly, she tells Vitani and Nuka that Jibu will need some water, and that they need to bring some back for her in some fresh moss. It's a big job, and the cubs are BOTH very willing to help. Vitani and Nuka leave on their big mission, and then Zira, Jibu, and the new cub are left alone.

Zira is quick about it. Merciful, even. By the time Nuka and Vitani get back, Jibu is dead. Zira sorrowfully tells the cubs that...the birthing process was simply too much for a weak and skinny loner like her, and that there was nothing at all that could have been done. Nuka asks what they're going to do with the cub, and Zira says she SUPPOSES they could take it back to the pride, as well as the zebra Jibu just killed. They return to the pridelands with food, and...Zira presents the cub to Scar. She tells him that his mother gave birth on the edge of the territory, before succumbing to her dehydration and fatigue. Scar looks the cub over, and is overjoyed. He declares THIS cub, this Kovu, WILL be his heir.

So, time passes, and before you know it, Simba returns. The TRUE Pridelanders rise up and reclaim their land. In the wake of his return, Zira's pride sisters see the error of their ways, and oppose the hyenas in battle. Scar is overthrown, and Simba takes his place as King. Zira is of course horrified, outraged, and...filled with a turmoil of emotions about it. Some part of her feels...free that Scar is gone, but the rest of her was so twisted by his words that she doesn't want to admit she's happy he's dead. She chokes those feelings down, trying to sit still and look pretty for Simba as he moves in. Nuka, Vitani, and little Kovu are doing well, and...as a mother that's all she should care about, really. But...deep down inside, there's a growing, growling, burning need for revenge in her soul.

As Kovu grows a little bigger and the pridelands heal more, Simba and Nala announce the birth of their OWN heir.....Kopa. Yep. Yes. That's right, I'm a Kopa theorist. Upsetting, I know. But like....it makes sense. Look at how overprotective and suffocating Simba was to Kiara in TLK 2. Almost like he'd dealt with tragedy in relation to a cub before, and vowed to never let it happen again. Huh. If YOU'RE reading this and you have no idea who Kopa is and the drama behind his very existence, first of all God I wish I was you, secondly, go here to learn what then entire TLK fandom is divided over:

https://disney.fandom.com/wiki/Kopa

Anyway, Kopa is begins to grow and learn as the next king of Pride Rock, good friends with Nuka and Vitani, and even their cute little brother Kovu. He's not...VERY old right now, but he'll grow and be able to play with them one day! Their mom, Zira, seems....a little upset about stuff. She always watches them from afar, never engages with the rest of the Pride, and doesn't seem to like Simba. Kopa, as a young kid determined to be a great king, takes a note to keep an eye on this. She might be really old, but she's part of his father's kingdom. Everyone else is happy and healthy, she should be too, right? Simba and Nala seem...worried about her as well. For different reasons, but yeah.

Ever the hunter and woman scorned, Zira has been...studying Kopa. He's young and naive, but...eager to learn and take over for his father. He's studious and intuitive, often finding trouble without meaning to, because he was trying to solve a problem or get involved in pride politics. Of course, all the other lions and creatures love him, and are eager to see him grow into a fine future king. There s NO doubt he's a jewel in his family's crown. But...he is still a cub. Zira remembers how devastated she was to lose Vitani's three siblings, and knows that Simba and Nala will be equally devastated if....something happens to Kopa. She knows exactly how she's going to avenge Scar now.

Simba and Nala were out on a little moonlight hunt together one night, like they enjoyed to do together. They were coming back to Pride Rock afterwards, only to hear a terrible commotion. Zazu rushed to meet them, telling of something terrible that had just happened: Zira tried to assassinate the young prince. Her pride sisters were now in arms against Sarabi and her pride sisters, trying to stop an attempted uprising. Simba and Nala quickly joined in to fight, Simba finding Zira with Kopa in her jaws. He stops her, and Timon and Pumbaa are quick to get Kopa to Rafiki for healing. Simba and Nala face off against Zira while she gives her side of the story. telling about how she's tired of being docile and pretending her heart isn't broken after Simba and Nala both took everything from her. Simba and Nala both see she's still...terribly twisted by Scar's words, trying to be patient but firm with her as they attempt to talk her down. She won't have it, and leaps at Simba, Nala gets involved, and they fight her off. Simba calls for her banishment, and she is thrown out of the Pridelands with the rest of her followers, and her three cubs.

During all of this, Rafiki is attending to Kopa and his injuries. They're...bad, but not fatal. With time, he'll be just fine. Zira left him blind in one eye, gave him a terribly ripped ear, nearly tore his tail off, and he's got a deep throat scar that will alter his voice quite a bit. With time he'll be alright physically, but...I'm not so sure about mentally. Kopa has...a LOT of PTSD over it. blaming himself for how he thought Zira was a friend he could help, wondering if he was stupid for never seeing her anger sooner. He begins to question his abilities as a future king. Yes, he's still young, and accidents happen, but...this event has left him a bit jaded all the same. Simba and Nala see it, and...want to do the best for their son. They can see the enthusiasm in his eyes to one day be king fading. It's devastating. And...while Simba isn't about to give up on him, he doesn't want to force Kopa into something he...clearly doesn't want to do anymore. On top of that...Simba fears Kopa may not be safe in the Pridelands anymore. Zira and her followers ARE in the Outlands, but...Zira is bold and full of hate. There's no telling what she could do next. After a lot of deliberation, meeting with Zazu, Nala, and Kopa...the king comes to a conclusion. He strips Kopa of his title as an heir, and sends him to live in the Oasis with Ma, Uncle Max, and the rest of Timon's family. He'll be safe and well-fed there, far away from Zira. It'll only be for a while, until the trouble with the outlanders settles down, and until Kopa is ready to return home. Kopa agrees to the idea whole-heartledy, and departs for the Oasis as soon as he's fit to travel. It's...painful and hard, but it's the best option for their son's mental health. Simba and Nala do visit often, and are glad to see it DOES seem to be working.

Okay. So Zira tried to kill Kopa in the name of Scar, got herself booted, and the origins of her three cubs have been dealt with. That's all the Zira/Scar and Kopa backstory stuff done and dealt with. I'm gonna cut it right here since this is gettin awful lengthy, and continue with TLK 2 and The Lion Guard in a part 2. Keep an eye out for that one.

#the lion king #the lion king 2 #neato after dark

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your-daily-biaswrecking · 4 years ago

Text

Serva me, Servabo te

save me and I will save you

pairing: photographer!Taehyung x f.reader

genre: angst, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, lil spooky, lil fluffy

word count: 8k | reading time: 45 min

chapter summary: even more bonding over food

warnings: nothing much, just a lil spooky house

All chapters | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Chapter 3: No man is an island

Even though it had taken you a lot of turning around in the bed to actually fall asleep, once you did, it proved hard to wake up. Something about the heavy covers and the thick curtains seemed to have sealed you in with a spell. When you first opened your eyes, you found it hard to move, and by the time you finally rose, the sun was peeking through the window which could only mean one thing: it was late. The fire across from you was crackling and the air smelled of-

Wait, what?

You did a double-take on the fireplace. Yep, it was lit. You scratched your head trying to remember if you had actually managed to light it last night, but you were fairly certain you had discarded the wood inside with no success. Had you lit a small spark that had turned into a big fire through the night without your knowledge? Probably not. Somebody else had probably lit it and you had an idea of who that might be. As you were getting dressed, you noticed the floor was clean, too. That is, from all the wax that was on it due to last night's accident. What the hell? Was he trying to get on your good side or something? Trying to make you like him? It was a little too late for that, didn't he think? A tat difficult to change your impression of someone after you had already formed it three years ago.

You wandered around the east wing of the Manor, not sure which room was Taehyung's. But you took a guess when you saw that there was only one door closed amongst the rest of them. You knocked, and when you didn't get an answer, you walked in. The room was definitely bigger than yours, boasting a king-sized bed with dark colors opposite of the entrance, along with a large balcony to the left. You could see Taehyung's stuff lying around, yet not the man himself.

You jogged down the stairs, questioning your next move. Going left, you walked to the sitting room, however, apart from the lit fireplace, that, too, was quiet and soulless. You even checked the library but were met with the same results. As you walked back, you kept your eyes out the windows, trying to catch a glimpse of him anywhere around the house. To be more certain that he wasn't blocked from any plants or flowers in the garden caught up in his photographing like last time, you went so far as to go out and have a stroll up and down the pathway. After having been disappointed yet again, you set the way for the small kitchen. Unsurprisingly, that was empty too, and you were running out of ideas of where the man could be hidden. Alas, any time you wanted to avoid him he magically appeared in front of you, yet now that you were looking for him, he had vanished.

"Well, well, well... look who finally decided to get up," you heard a raspy voice coming from behind you. You jumped slightly and frowned at the well-dressed man standing by the door, offering you a smirk. Where on earth had he been and how had he managed to materialize right behind you without you realizing? Was he a ghost, or something?

You almost asked him where he was, but quickly realized that would sound like you cared about him. Instead, you decided to comment on his uncalled-for remark. "Why, had you been waiting for me?"

He chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. "No, but the pancakes got cold by now. They won't be as tasty."

"Pancakes?" With a motion of his head, your eyes fell on the plate with a tower of medium-sized, fluffy pancakes on the counter. "You made these?"

His eyes rolled to the side. "No, the fairies did," he mocked you.

You shook your head. "Why? Why are you doing all of this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean making me breakfast when I didn't ask you to."

Taehyung watched you with his half-lidded eyes, his tongue running over his teeth. "Relax. I didn't make you breakfast, princess. I just made it for myself and had some leftovers. If you don't want to, don't eat it."

It felt like he was teasing you for wanting nothing to do with him. Why was he teasing you? Hadn't he acted like that, too, for the past three years? "Oh, yeah? Then what about the fireplace? And the candlewax?"

His cheeks swelled up with air as he slowly let it out. "Yeah, I'm- I'm not following. What fireplace?"

"My fireplace."

He frowned. "You mean... the one in the sitting room?"

"No! I mean the one in my bedroom."

He continued to look confused. "Okay. What about it?"

You bit your lip at his reaction. Now, you were confused, too. "Didn't you light it?"

"No... Did you want me to?"

Your mouth froze mid-sentence, trying to figure out what was happening. "I... I woke up and it was..." You took a look around you. "Did the housekeepers come here this morning?"

Taehyung shrugged. "I didn't see anyone, but maybe... It's a big house, it's easy to miss someone."

Not as easy as missing him, though. Big house and you always ended up in the same, small space. "I guess they came," you mumbled as you started to notice other little things, like the clean plates, were also in their place. "I mean, I found the fireplace lit and the wax was gone..."

Then Taehyung laughed. "Wait! Are you telling me cleaning ladies came into your room, lit a fire, and cleaned the floors while you were sleeping...? And you didn't understand a thing?" Well, you didn't usually sleep so deep but be it the fatigue or the aura of the Manor, you slept like a dead person that night. Taehyung's laugh continued. "And you thought that was me?"

Thinking he had perhaps done those things for you turned out to be a better feeling than realizing he hadn't. You felt so silly. And what were you even supposed to say now? You turned around, scratching your head. The plate with the pancakes seemed rather inviting now, a good change of the subject.

"Thank you for the breakfast," you simply said.

Taehyung smirked at you yet again, his eyes following you around as you grabbed the plate and sat down to eat. "Sure thing, love," he purred. You shot up, a tingling sensation covering your cheeks that you were sure it was shock and distaste, and nothing else. But he kept his stare on you, making you look back down. "What are you going to do after, if you don't mind my asking?" you heard him say in an exaggerated formal tone.

"Why?" you simply asked.

Taehyung looked over his shoulder. "Well, I've got some work to do. On my laptop. I was thinking about occupying the sitting room if that's alright with you."

You took a bite out of the pancakes, shaking your head. "Do whatever you want. You don't have to ask my permission, you know." You made eye contact one more time. "This is your vacation here, too. Don't let me stand in the way."

He turned around and left without another word. You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but decided to not dwell on the boy's acts. You weren't sure what he was trying to do, get on your nerves or the opposite -whatever that was- but you didn't want to use up all your energy on thinking about him. Instead, you enjoyed the pancakes with the pine tree honey, as it was labeled, and some fresh butter. You weren't sure if it was because of the organic toppings or Taehyung's skill, but those ended up being the best pancakes you had ever had. You scrunched your nose. They were so good, I guess you had to compliment him, say something, anything. It was only fair.

You found a piece of paper and a pen in the next room and wrote a small note for him to find on the counter, instead of having to say something to his face. And after having cleaned up your mess, you went back into your room.

Really, what were you going to do?

You fixed the flame, then marched in the bathroom to find your dress, now clean, hanging to dry. The signal wasn't good enough for you to contact Yoonji or anyone else, so you were left with whatever was in that house to occupy you. Well, a house like that should have enough things to keep you busy, right?

You set out to explore the rooms and the floors. The portraits on the walls of people unknown to you, people that seemed to be long gone. The sculptures at the corners of the halls that you couldn't decide whether they were very classy or very outdated. The embroidery pieces adorning the furniture, even some frames, and the random, vintage objects used as decoration. You discovered a room that seemed to be a home office on the first floor, with a big, wooden desk with old pen and ink on one side of it and a typewriter on the other. A metallic globe the size of your hug standing by the window, inconsistent books about the classics all around. A dining room, two rooms away from the kitchen, that boasted the longest table you had ever seen, set with pretty porcelain plates, crystal glasses, and silver cutlery. Another room, next to the library, whose only purpose seemed to be that of a museum; more paintings and sculptures, bizarre collections and jewelry presented all over.

The basement didn't share any of the upstairs' atmosphere. There was no decoration, no natural light. The air was humid and chill. The colors were grey and brown, none of the crimsons or the golds. You found the main kitchen, the one that seemed to be made for a whole staff to work in, but it was empty and dull. Anywhere you stood, you felt uneasy. As if you were standing in the way of someone; perhaps all the ghosts of the workers that slaved themselves away for the elites living above. A breeze made the hair on your arms float, and you deemed the moment perfect to get out.

Not letting the uncomfortable setting get to you, you continued exploring. Going up three flights of stairs, you reached the highest floor, the attic. The halls there were significantly less extravagant, the rooms notably smaller. It didn't quite reach the tone of the basement, but some similarities had to be pointed out. Some doors were locked, and the ones that were open, lead to places that had nothing to keep you there. The view from the windows wasn't much changed from the one from your bedroom, definitely wasn't worth a swap. You noticed that although there were beds and wardrobes, none of the rooms were made for guests. Maybe you weren't supposed to be up here.

That thought, instead of making you flee the way the basement had, made you want to dive deeper. You looked around the few pieces of furniture as if you were searching for something specific, looking over your shoulder as if someone would walk in and scold you for snooping around any time now. A wind blew your hair around your neck, almost like it was telling you to stop. But why did you have to stop? What weren't you supposed to see? The windows in the corridor were all closed, anyway, so where was the wind coming from in the first place? You felt it again, caressing your ears nearly like a whisper. Like a voice calling to you.

Amy...

Was it the wind, or was it the walls? Was it all the olden, inanimate objects that had gained life from the numerous generations they had incorporated? Or was it all just in your head?

"Amy!"

You jumped. You heard it, you actually, definitely did. A voice. Not just the wind, not just your imagination. There were voices coming from these rooms. You rushed outside and ran to the stairs. Then you heard it again, and you froze in place.

You frowned slightly, still not having entirely grasped the reality of the situation. "Yeah?" you shouted back.

"Food's ready."

Right. The mystery voice that whispered your name through the wind at the attic wasn't a spirit or a ghost; simply your vacation buddy shouting from downstairs. Well, good. That was good.

"I'm coming!" you let him know as you skipped down the steps.

You hadn't realized when Taehyung had moved from the sitting room to the kitchen, had no idea he had taken it upon himself to cook once again. Having had a late breakfast and a lot of exploration to do, the time had gone by unnoticed, without any thought of lunch. That was until the delicious smell reached your nose as you were getting closer, making your stomach immediately protest in hunger.

"Hey," you called when you walked in, finding Taehyung setting the table. "I didn't know you were cooking."

"Why, would you have helped me if you did?" he said smiling at you. Don't get confused, he wasn't smiling because what he had just asked was genuine, and thought it was sweet. He was definitely teasing you again.

You took a plate from his hands -well, more like grabbed- and set it on the table yourself. "I thought you were a great cook, why would you need my help?"

His stupid smile got wider. "Maybe you just wanted to spend more time with me."

"Does anyone ever spend time with you unless absolutely needed?"

Taehyung gasped and then chuckled right as he set the food in the middle. "Well, you're welcome for the lunch, I guess."

You rolled your eyes making sure he would see it, dragged a chair out, and sat down. "Thank you. What did you make?"

"Mushrooms," he said, pointing at the plates in front of you. "And other vegetables, since you wanted to have an organic meal. And I found those in the fridge, so I think it's safe to assume they won't kill us."

You shot him a tight smile with your eyes narrowed. Just as you were about to reach for the rice, he started serving you himself. "I can do it," you let him know.

He groaned in response. "I bet you're also the kind that won't let a guy pay for dinner or walk you home, aren't you? Let a man be chivalrous for once, Amy. The Mansion demands it, don't you think?"

You bit your lip trying to stop yourself before an apology escaped you. "Right, I'm sure chivalry runs through your veins and fuels your every action." You tried to take the vegetables, but he blocked you again.

"Well, no," he annunciated through his teeth, then started serving you again. "But at least when I make an effort, it should be respected, don't you think?" He finished your plate and raised his head to look at you. Why were his eyes staring into yours always putting you in an awkward space?

You cleared your throat. "Alright, your actions are noted and appreciated," you murmured, picking up a fork and preparing a bite. "If they're not fake," you added under your breath and popped the food in your mouth.

But he heard you, and like always, he laughed. "You really think I have some ulterior motive in being nice to you? What, am I trying to trick you into thinking I'm not a terrible person?"

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye while you chewed, trying to hide a tiny smile. "Yeah."

His eyes read yours for a second before he reciprocated your smile. "Is it working?"

You finally swallowed, taking a moment to close your eyes and take in all the flavor you had just experienced. "With this food, kinda, yeah." The vegetables had just melted in your mouth like cotton candy, had managed to taste like a honeycomb.

"You like it?" his face lit up as he asked you.

You nodded. "You know, I hate to admit it, but it's really good. Now, I don't know if it's the organic ingredients or the cook..."

He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. "Oh, it's the cook. Considering the pancakes were also... Ah, what was it? Superb?" You put your fork down to glare at him. "It couldn't have been easy for you to write that," he laughed at you. You knew you shouldn't have left that note; compliments only made his ego grow, and he already had plenty of that.

"Do you always talk so much when you eat?" you snapped. "You haven't even taken a bite."

"Apologies," he mumbled with a grin and started eating, too.

But the silence was too awkward. In the silence, all you were left to do was stare. And staring at your plate would quickly become tiring, and staring out the window would quickly become boring. And then, all you could stare at was the man in front of you. Staring at his brown flocks falling over his eyes as he swallowed down huge bites. His lips, shiny and slippery from the grease, moving around and making sounds. The veins in his hand popping and following down his long fingers, longer than you'd call necessary. You thought he hadn't noticed, since he hadn't looked your way. But when he suddenly glanced up and found your eyes right away, it was obvious he already knew where they were. And the look he gave you was worse than just saying out loud I thought you didn't want to talk, yet you're gawking at me.

You choked on your food, immediately looking away and trying to clear your throat. "Uh... Have you- have you been up at the attic?" you asked, needing an escape.

"Very briefly, why?" he casually answered.

You shrugged, playing with your food. "Oh, nothing. I was just up there and..." Well, you didn't know what to say. And you thought there were ghosts calling you when it was actually him?

He shook his head slightly and looked back down. "I don't like the atmosphere up there," he said. "It's kind of creepy."

Your eyes widened. "Oh my God, I know, right? You felt that, too? It wasn't just me?"

He grabbed his shoulder with one hand, rubbing it. "Yeah, I don't know what it was about it, but I wouldn't go back up there again."

You nodded in agreement. "The basement was even worse, felt like it was haunted."

"Haven't been down there, but I believe you." He gave you a small smile and, paired with his words, it made you smile back with warmth. "We should just stay here, on this floor," he added. "It's nice and cozy down here."

You chuckled. "Yeah, even my room is a little scary, especially after last night."

He looked at you again in a way you couldn't look away, almost like holding your hands so that you would stay close. "You shouldn't be scared. If you are ever scared, you should come to find me."

What... What do you respond to that?

"I mean, there's two of us in this house," he continued when you didn't say anything. "You don't have to sit alone and afraid."

"Um... yeah, I guess," you mumbled and immediately cleared your throat upon realizing how hoarse your voice sounded. "Same goes for you, or whatever."

Taehyung suddenly got up and smiled down at you, while you had to crane your neck to look at him. "Good to know. You'll do the dishes, right?" You frowned momentarily at the abrupt change of subject.

"Ye- yeah..."

"Great, I'm going upstairs." And with no more input, he was gone. Didn't even put away his plate or something, didn't even wait for you to finish.

What a dick. I mean, sure, you would've offered to do the dishes anyway, but now that he had just assumed it like that, it bothered you. You exhaled, pushing your plate away. Oh, it bothered you a lot. You looked over your shoulder, looking at the empty hallway he had just passed through. How was this man managing to make you hate him one moment, then warmed you up until you lowered your guard the next, and then pissed you off again right after? Staying with him there just felt like a big headache.

You cleaned up everything and then moved upstairs, passing by him on the way, but neither of you spoke. You went straight to the bathroom. You deserved a nice bath after that, to calm your nerves. And there was a long, porcelain bathtub inside the well-lit, room, along with many bath salts for the warm water and candles to set the mood. It was indeed relaxing. Moments like this made you really appreciate your chance to stay in that Manor. It wasn't all the moments, all the time, but there were enough of them.

After soaking up in there for nearly an hour -or maybe it was more- the water started getting cold and you decided to get out. You wrapped yourself in a big, soft towel and went to your room. You took your books with you and went looking for that office that was near the library. Taking another look at it and really taking the time to light the lamps and sit on that desk, made you like the room even more. You enjoyed some peace and quiet for the rest of the afternoon in there, switching between studying and exploring the place. You only wished you could have an office like that. The heavy atmosphere really sealing you inside and making you lose track of time.

Lost track of time so much it had felt like only two minutes had passed when you heard the door opening.

"Oh, there you are," Taehyung said in a low voice after he peeped through the door. "Are you working?"

At the moment, you had your feet propped against the bookcase behind the desk and a leather hardback copy of Frankenstein. You let it drop on the desk and close. "No, just chilling," you explained. "Why?"

The young man appeared more behind the door, yet still just standing there instead of coming in. "Can I ask for your help with dinner, then?"

Your eyebrows rose high while your lips pursed up. "Oh, the great cook needs my help?" Regardless of your comment, you got up and started switching off the lights to follow him.

"Actually, I need some help with the fireplace."

"The fireplace?"

He wiggled his eyebrows at you. "Yep. We're barbecuing tonight!"

You gasped and jumped to him. "Oh, really? We can do that?" No thought that would normally cross your mind about your behavior and distance toward this man seemed to be appearing now. He extended his arm to you, almost to catch you, and your hands wrapped around his forearm instinctively.

Taehyung chuckled as he held your arm back, and guided you into the hallway. You followed suit, still glued to him. "Yeah," he told you. "I found a grate that we can use. Have you ever done this before?" He looked at you over his shoulder.

"I have been a part of barbecue parties before, but I didn't exactly do the barbecuing," you mumbled, smiling and looking down.

Taehyung pushed a door open and you appeared in the sitting room. The fire had died down but had left a decent amount of coals behind it. The man broke free from your hold and moved closer to the fireplace, picking up a metal poker, and started annoying the low burning, red coals emitting warmth. You looked at him, wondering if he knew what he was doing because you certainly didn't. And he had asked for your help... Well, we'll see how that will go.

"The fire is almost out... Can we really do this here?" you asked while your fingers played with the hem of your shirt.

Taehyung glanced at you and nodded. "Yeah, this is the perfect level of fire you need. Which is why I thought about it in the first place." Then he pointed at the corner of the inside of the fireplace. "See? I have already put in some potatoes to cook because they need more time." Something shined in the direction he was showing you. Something covered in tin foil.

You opened your mouth in understanding. "Alright... What do you need me to do?"

The boy moved his jaw around as he checked you out before he motioned towards the door. "Let's go to the kitchen and get things ready."

The kitchen island was covered with what you could only assume was everything edible found in the fridge and cupboards. Plates and platters filled with raw meat, vegetables, cheese, spices, sauces, salads... Had he invited something like 15 people to dine with you, or was he under the impression you eat as much as bigfoot does?

"What- is all of this?" you stammered. "You know it's just the two of us, right?"

He rolled his eyes at you, but with a smile. "We're not gonna everything, I just have it out trying to decide what's best." He grabbed two plates, one on each hand, and pointed them at you. "For example: sausages or pork ribs?"

"Um..." You kept looking back and forth between the plates with your jaw hanging low, struggling to pick the most delicious looking one.

"A little bit of both?" Taehyung offered with half a smile when you still hadn't chosen.

Your face lit up. "Yeah, a little bit of both sounds good!"

He nodded immediately. "Do you want to make some grilled tomatoes and peppers as well? They always turn out great."

You shrugged. "Sure, maybe a few. Let's not make too much and have to throw them away, though."

Taehyung nodded once again and handed you the plates with the veggies and some cheese. "Alright, take these inside while I get the rest ready, please."

"Sure thing, chef."

You cleared the table in the sitting room, making room for every plate that you brought in. Following Taehyung's orders, you organized the veggies on the grate and the other appetizers on the platers while he marinated the meat. You paid great attention to the way he poised the grate on top of a little old metal thing a small way over the burning coals. Juices started falling once the tomatoes got hot, landing on the fire and immediately evaporating with a loud, sizzling sound that filled the room like the rhythmical beat of a lo-fi song. The smell that invaded your senses was something between smoke and sautéed onions and your stomach hurt in anticipation as you sat there and waited.

You sat there and waited quietly, watching the boy squatted in front of the fireplace looking over the food. As his eyes were otherwise occupied, yours had the chance to travel down his form once again. He looked small and fragile the way he was sitting, drowned in his large, knitted sweater, but you knew the moment he got up he would assert himself differently. Not that he was particularly tall and at all bulky, but there was something about his stance that demanded everyone's awareness. Maybe it was something about his eyes that made it hard to look away or his face that tricked you into thinking you were gazing at a piece of art. And you stared, not thinking you'll get caught, not thinking he will smile at you the way he did when you still hadn't noticed he was now turned towards you.

"Uh- Bread!" you squealed in panic. You got up, dusting your clothes off the nothing that was on them. "Should I bring the bread now?" you added in a weak voice.

Taehyung gave the grate over the coals one last glance. "Yeah... These are almost done, I think we can toast some bread and start eating now."

You nodded once and ran out of the room. Your hands were shaking slightly as you tried to slice the bread and you couldn't understand why he put you in such an unnerving state so easily. Okay, so you got caught looking at him. So what? You were allowed to look at people, right? He did it all the time, anyway. And, okay, you kind of don't like him... But is it really to the point that being next to him makes you hold your breath and numb your limbs? He didn't seem bothered by your presence at all, and he apparently didn't even remember you. You should really do better than this.

When you walked back into the sitting room, Taehyung was arranging the ribs that he had just taken off the grill on a platter. Then he took the bread you handed him to place it near the fire. The whole table was a mouth-watering view, and if these tasted even half as good as the food he had made up until now, you were sure this was going to be the best barbecue you've ever had. Well, if you could pull yourself together and actually act like a normal person, you would be able to enjoy this. Perhaps talking to him would be better, it had worked the last time. Kind of.

"Are the potatoes ready?" you asked. Alright, it wasn't the best conversation starter, but your hunger controlled you more than you'd admit.

"Oh," Taehyung chuckled. "I forgot about those, let's see." He fished them out, squeezed them a few times, then gave you one. "What do you think?"

You looked at him, then at the tin foil covered potato. "What, am I supposed to know if they're ready?"

He chuckled again, trying to hide the fact that he had just rolled his eyes. "It's soft, isn't it? Must be cooked."

You squeezed the potato the way he did. "Uh, yeah... I guess."

"I'm just trying to teach you how to do this, princess," he called as he grabbed the potato out of your hand again and placed it on the table.

You snorted. "Why do you keep calling me princess?"

Taehyung shrugged without looking up at you, keeping his gaze on the potatoes as he uncovered them and cut them up. "Well, didn't you choose the princess room?"

"It's not that and you know it. You say it as if it's a bad thing."

He took the butter and began to apply a very generous amount on the steaming, soft potatoes. "Hmm, I don't know..." he mumbled as he added seasoning and cheese. "Sometimes you just seem a little ungrateful and condescending, like a real princess would be." He gave you a quick, tight smile with his lips pressed together.

You couldn't help but scoff, folding your arms over your chest. "I'm condesc- Well, if I'm a princess then you- you are a king, 'cause you're worse than me!" Taehyung paused and looked at you. You looked at him, too. "Wait," you mouthed, mentally scratching your head. "Wait! Why does princess sound so insulting but king doesn't? That's not fair!"

Taehyung burst out laughing. "Sexism," he blamed with a shrug. You chuckled along, forgetting you were supposed to be upset. Something easy to forget when the man in front of you served you the potatoes he had been preparing, giving you the cue that it was okay to start piling on the food now.

You started with the sausage and a soft moan left your lips before you could stop yourself. But it was alright since Taehyung seemed to be doing the same as he bit down on the ribs. You moved on to the peppers, and the potatoes, and anything else your hands could reach. You had ended up making more than enough food, probably because neither of you could decide on what to eat exactly, but you didn't fear there would be any leftovers. No, you would fill up to your lungs and then hibernate the rest of the week if you had to.

You took a break to cut up the food on your plate and observe Taehyung. He kept looking at you every time you put something in your mouth, perhaps trying to read your reaction, desperate for praise. Or desperate to please you. He said you were ungrateful, but he didn't act as if he meant it. Sure, he never missed a chance to banter with you, but he also seemed to actively try to be nice to you. Give you something to be grateful for. Was he even the one who believed what he had said, or did he blindly have some idea of your character with no proof?

"What has Jimin told you about me?" you asked then, breaking the near silence.

His eyebrows rose high and he looked at you with wide eyes, kind of lost, as he munched on some well-toasted bread. "Wha- what? What do you mean?"

You resumed your eating, trying to appear nonchalant. "I mean... You said you don't remember meeting me, yet you know who I am. Jimin must have spoken about me, then. What did he tell you?"

Taehyung swallowed hard avoiding your eyes -something that he hadn't done before- and falling back in his seat, almost like he was trying to take up less space. "Nothing," he chirped. "Just... that you... exist."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Really? So he just said my name and nothing more?"

Taehyung nodded. "Pretty much. I don't remember," he rushed to say and stuff his face with more food.

Well, he was clearly lying. Not that you thought Jimin would have said something bad, you knew he liked you. But you were intrigued. "So you know nothing about me? I'm just a stranger to you?" Taehyung looked at you without replying. "You stayed in a house in the middle of nowhere with a stranger?"

He pushed his hair back with his free hand. "No, well... You're Jimin's friend. And my friend's friend... is my friend," he said without sounding too convinced with himself. Probably because of the graceless way he kept repeating the word "friend". You were about to say something when he suddenly turned the focus on you. "What about you, then? Am I not a stranger to you?"

You were caught off guard. Was he a stranger to you? You looked at his face, those eyes you had seen before, that nose and lips you had inspected a lot. His voice and his attitude that you remembered clearly, even though it had been years. He wasn't a stranger to you because you knew him. Pretty well, you could add. But he wasn't your friend just because you knew people in common, either. Nor your enemy since you didn't care enough to concern yourself with his person. What was he to you?

"No..." you simply said, avoiding a longer explanation. "Because I remember meeting you."

"Sorry," Taehyung whispered while biting his lip, having caught the innuendo easily. He wiped his mouth and looked up at you. "But you treat me like one. Don't you?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. Did you? Were you cold to him because he was like a stranger, or were you cold to him because he wasn't? "I don't see you as a stranger," you sounded more confident than you felt. "If I did, I wouldn't have stayed here with you."

"Right... Big, old house with a strange man in it... Not ideal."

You eyed him for a second, not sure if he was mocking you or not. "Right..." you repeated and you both kind of nodded at the same time.

It was true. You obviously wouldn't have stayed if it was someone you didn't know. But you stayed. Which made you realize that, no matter what you had been telling yourself or what Yoonji knew, or perhaps even what he thought, in the end, you knew Taehyung was in that house and you didn't leave, which could only mean one thing. You hadn't stayed in spite of him. You had stayed because of him.

"Or perhaps this house and a stranger sound less scary than this house and all alone?" he added with a chuckle then, and you laughed awkwardly, thankful that you were thrown out of your thought process.

The food was almost over, or at least your ability to eat had reached its peak, and you were gazing at the dying fire since you didn't know what else to do. Was this the time you part ways again? You had only agreed to eat together and that's what you've been doing up until now, but for some reason, it felt like whoever would get up first now would be rude. It's not like you needed to leave, you didn't have anything better to do. You just wished you had something -anything- to do instead of sit next to Taehyung silently.

"Do you play cards?" you heard him say eventually, and you almost cracked a huge smile at him in relief.

Then you frowned for a second when you really thought about what he had said. "Um... used to when I was a kid. Why?"

Taehyung grinned at you. "Well, I found this deck, was thinking we could play and the loser has to do the dishes. What do you think?"

Ah, the dishes. If you had to be honest you had completely forgotten about those. But that was good, considering you would probably have to do them anyway. At least now you had a chance to get out of it. "Depends on the game we play," you answered.

"Any game you want," he exclaimed as he jumped up and ran on to some drawers at the other side of the room.

"Oh man, I don't remember any games..." you mumbled, scratching the back of your neck. "Hold on, give me a second." Taehyung returned with a metallic, little box and sat right in front of you, cross-legged. He opened the box up and revealed a rather dark deck of cards with golden flares at the back. "Beavers," you finally settled. "Do you know it?"

"Beavers? No, enlighten me."

"Well, it's normally a game with its own cards, like Uno, but I remember we used to play it with regular cards all the time when we were kids." You turned to face him better, crossing your legs the same way he had. "Uh, okay... I might not remember the rules very well, but here goes," you started explaining while showing him at the same time. "We both get four cards dealt in front of us, but we only see the two on the side. The goal is to have the smallest score, so you want to have cards like two or ace or- oh, the joker counts as zero. Good so far?"

"We add all the cards and the one with the smallest number wins?" he asked, fully focused on your words.

You nodded. "Yes. After we see our two cards, we start picking cards from the deck and if we like it, we can change it with our own, if not, we discard it. If you get a Jack, you draw again. A Queen means you can switch one of your cards with one of the other player's, and the King means you can look under any card and see what it is. When you think all your cards are small, you say 'stop' and we reveal our cards. And that's it."

"Huh," Taehyung mumbled and started shuffling the deck. "Sounds pretty simple. How many times do we play?"

"As many as you want. Do you want to play one introductory round just to see if you understood everything?"

"Nope. I got it." And with that, he dealt both of you your cards.

You were silently laughing at him, thinking you would kick his ass and definitely not do the dishes that night. Then he picked his first card and changed it with a hidden one. "Uh, Tae..." you mumbled, thinking he was confused. "You should change the ones you know first, or wait for a King to see what you've got. You don't know what's under there, it might be something good."

He simply said: "I know." Then he changed his other hidden card too. Throwing away a three, too.

"Tae, you-"

"Stop."

You blinked at him. "What? You're done?"

He just nodded. "Uh-huh. Stop."

There was no way, you thought. You drew one card for the last round, begging to get a Queen so that you could steal one of his cards or something. But no, just a nine. You sighed and revealed all your cards: a three, a four, and under the ones you hadn't seen you boasted a six and another nine. "Ugh," you exhaled. "I got twenty-two. What have you got?"

Taehyung smirked at you before he started revealing his cards. A joker on the left, a two on the right, and then an ace and another joker in the middle. "I got three."

"What?" you screamed. You fell forward, trying to look at his cards better. "What?" you yelled again, slapping your own cheeks. "Two jokers? Motherfucker, there's only two in the entire deck and you got both of them right away?"

Taehyung was just laughing. He started picking up all the cards and shuffling them again while you were still having a mental breakdown. "Do you wanna play something different?" he asked you.

Hell no, you didn't. No, this was a matter of dignity at this point, the bet of the dishes long forgotten. "No way!" you let him know passionately. "That was just beginner's luck, anyway! I'm gonna beat your ass."

But you didn't. And that wasn't just beginner's luck. There are just some people that have fate on their side, always, no matter what you do. Taehyung seemed to be one of those people. Oh, how it got on your nerves. He always got all the aces and all the jokers, even when they were hidden and he didn't know about it until the end. You barely got some twos, the occasional ace. Out of about twenty or thirty rounds, you had managed to say "stop" only a few times. The worst times were the ones you thought you could beat him, and then right at the end, he got a Queen and stole away your only good card.

"I love this game," he was chuckling after having won yet another round with an embarrassing on your part gap.

"Of course you do," you groaned.

"Do you want to stop?"

You shook your head maniacally. "No, no... One more round, I need to get ahead."

"Amy, you have, like, sixty points more than me. How are you gonna get ahead?" he teased you, lowering his head to meet your slumped form and make you look into his eyes. You did him the favor and looked at him, but were pouting the entire time. Then he did the unimaginable -or, well, perhaps you should have gotten used to it by now- and gave you a sweet smile. He was enjoying himself and still being nice about it, which made it all that worse for you.

You clicked your tongue and looked away in the process of rolling your eyes. "Fine, I guess I'll do the dishes."

Taehyung helped you take all the plates back to the kitchen, and they were a lot. You tried not to sigh in front of him or complain too much since you didn't want him to have yet another reason to be calling you a princess, but it was really hard when it was nearing midnight -god, you played a lot- and you had just lost all sense of honor to a game of cards. A silly, childish game of cards. Playing poker and losing money perhaps would've felt better.

The moment he laughed and left to go upstairs, however, you had a whole new thing to concern yourself with. You were alone. And it was suddenly silent and cold as if Taehyung was radiating heat himself. The single lamp in the kitchen only offered a bleak, white light that flickered every now and then, and the hallway stood in the back dark as ever. The windows that in the morning provided sun and a change of scenery now only stared back at you from your reflection, making it impossible to see anything that was outside. The thought alone made you uneasy. You looked at the hallway over your shoulder, then back out the window, again and again as if you were trying to catch a glimpse of something that wasn't there.

You gathered all the plates on one side of the counter and put some water to boil to help you with the grease. You had to stop imagining things, it only made you paranoid. Made every little sound seem suspicious. Even the running water, or the plates clicking together, or the footsteps in the hallway... Wait, what now?

"Hey."

"Jesus Christ!" you shrieked just as you turned to see Taehyung standing by the door.

He raised his hands defensively. "Wow, sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

You took a couple of deep breaths and turned back to the sink. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just a little edgy, it's not your fault."

You could see out of the corner of your eye that he was rubbing his neck as he walked closer. "No, it is my fault. In a way. I shouldn't have left you here all alone, it's kinda scary." He leaned on the counter next to you, displaying a smile.

You hummed, maybe in agreement but he'd never know. "What do you want?" you asked, having immediately assumed he needed something in order to be there. Especially since he was dressed differently now, in black sweats and a black t-shirt; what you could guess was his pajama outfit.

"Oh, I thought I'd help you a bit with these," he replied, making you turn to face him just to make sure you were hearing that right. He had already turned to the sink, picking up a plate.

"You don't have to."

"It's too much work."

"It's alright, I lost fair and square." Your tongue probing your cheek, you were trying to understand why he was there, but you couldn't read him. All he did was give you a quick glance, followed but a scrunch of his nose.

"I'm not sleepy, anyway."

You didn't object any further. Perhaps because you wouldn't know how to object to that statement in the first place. But you just stayed there, standing close to each other, exchanging the plates you washed and cutting down the work to a half, in what might have been the first comfortable silence between the two of you since you got there. But you couldn't help but occupy your mind with why he was there when he didn't have to be, and what he had said. He wasn't sleepy. That didn't mean he had to come back down, he could have hanged around in his room. "I'm not sleepy, so I thought I'd do the dishes" is what you first assumed to be the full sentence he wanted to say. Yet that didn't feel right. You knew the dishes weren't his true concern. You knew he could have left you like you both had been doing all along. Maybe he was scared up there, too. Maybe he had nothing better to do. No, no... The longer you were next to him, the more apparent it became; that what he really wanted to say was:

"I'm not sleepy, so I thought I'd spend more time with you."

Next chapter

#kim taehyung #taehyung fanfic #bts #bangtan #v #fanfiction #multichapter #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #enemies to lovers #slow burn #angst #bts x reader #serva me servabo te #save me and i will save you #chapter 3

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katzkinder · 4 years ago

Text

Fool’s Gold, Ch 1

Prologue

I should mention that the version up on ao3 has extra content not included in the tumblr updates. The version available on Tumblr is just the story featuring Greed pair, while the ao3 version has some extra bits and bobs. They don’t particularly impact the story, but they do add another layer, and if you like Gear and Youtarou, you might enjoy it! Thank you for being patient with my sporadic schedule ^^

[All That Glitters Is Not]

The first thing Licht noticed upon regaining consciousness was that his head felt like someone had tried to split it open like a melon. The second was that, wherever he was, it was cooler than the weather permitted, and the scratchy sheets beneath his cheek could sorely use a good wash. He wrinkled his nose, groaning as he sat up and clutched his head. The third…

“Ah, good. You’re awake. Was starting to get worried.”

--Was that he wasn’t alone.

Licht whirled, nearly falling off the small bed he had been placed on in his haste and only succeeding in making his aching head spin. The sound of metal clanging against it itself made him grimace, using the sound’s source to finally locate the… Dungeon’s, he supposed, other occupant.

A suit of armor?

“Hey now, no need to be hasty. You’ll only hurt yourself like that.” The deep voice he had heard was definitely coming from the armor, which sat, almost casually, even, upon a stool with a little wooden serving cart laden down with a pitcher, food, and dishes to serve it on. If he squinted, he could make out the shape of bread and what might have been a block of aged cheese in the darkness, penetrated only by the light of torches placed at regular intervals around the place.

“P… Piss off…” His throat hurt, voice coming out scratchier than he would have liked. “Who are you, and where am I?”

“First, drink this.” A copper cup was pushed at him through the bars, held securely in the jointed fingers of a gauntlet and presumably filled with water. Licht scoffed at it, not budging.

“Not until you answer me. Who. Are. You,” he repeated, carefully enunciating each word as if the man in front of him were some foreign entity just barely capable of understanding him. If suits of armor could look annoyed, this one certainly did, joints creaking as the whole thing sagged with its occupant.

“Do you want the damn water or not?”

“What I want is answers.”

A soft, harsh mutter that was almost certainly a swear, his captor turning to place the cup back in its place amongst the meal’s various other accoutrements. “Listen. If I promise to answer your questions, will you drink something? I don’t need that brat boss of mine giving me an earful over a stubborn kid…”

Licht bristled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed that was, now that he took a moment to look, little more than a cot pushed into the corner, and standing fast enough that the room spun. Stalking towards his unflinching captor, his lip curled back into a sneer, baleful glare trained on approximately where he thought the man’s eyes would be. Gripping the bars of his prison, he pushed his forehead up against the cool metal, duly noting that where he had expected rust he instead found smooth, well cared for material. That would make things more difficult once he was alone again, but it was nothing he couldn’t overcome, he thought.

“I’m not a kid.”

The helmet tilted, arms folding noisily across the chest plate. “You sure are acting like one.”

“I’m not,” Licht insisted. Adjusting his grip, he shoved his face more insistently at the bars, trying to get a look at the layout of the area beyond his cell. It was fairly large, all things considered, with clean, dry stone that looked like it was well fitted together. Directly across from him was a wall with a torch holder, unlit for the moment, though light sources reflected off the silver armor his captor wore from either side of him. To the left and right of that torch were more cells, equally as bare as his own save for a cot and, if he squinted hard enough, the shape of what might have been more bedding underneath.

No doubt moth eaten and covered in rat shit.

Still, the relatively clean space was… Surprising, and up close like this, he found he was indeed correct in assuming the shape he had seen to be cheese. Bread, cheese, some cured meats, and…

The words he had meant to speak died on the tip of his tongue, facial expression going slack in his befuddlement. “What’s that?”

“Hm?” The man turned at the waist, following his line of sight to a yellow skinned pear sitting innocuously amongst the other foodstuffs, the bottom of which appeared to be colored pink to red at uneven intervals. “... Have you never seen a pear before?”

Licht bit down a snappish reply, stomach giving a sudden rumble in protest to him doing anything that might deny him food he hadn’t until then realized he was sorely needing. “Give.”

“Excuse me?”

“Give me. The pear.” When all that met him was silence, he tore his gaze away, leveling it back again at the other man and ignoring the feel of eyes judging him. “What? You wanted me to eat and drink something, right? So hand it over.”

Slowly, as if he were still putting together the pieces of some sort of complex puzzle, the man moved, passing items through the bars to Licht’s awaiting hands. “You’re… A very strange man.”

“I’m an angel.” And with that, he bit into the fruit’s unblemished skin with a resounding, satisfying crunch. It was sweet, tart, just the slightest bit gritty, but not at all unpleasant as the juices ran down his chin, Licht closing his eyes to savor the taste. “Sho. Ansher my queshons.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full…” was the muttered reply, and feeling eyes boring steadily into him, Licht cracked an eye open, not seeming the least bit sheepish for the halfhearted scolding. “I think it’s pretty obvious where you are, anyway.”

“Hah?”

Shifting to prop his chin in hand, he continued, waving his free round around with a lazy, lackadaisical motion. “Look around. It’s a dungeon-”

“But where, and why, and who the hell are you?”

“Guildenstern.”

Finally receiving an answer mollified him, somewhat, Licht finally picking up the cup to take a drink and, after giving it a cursory sniff, finding that he quite disliked the metallic taste the copper imbued everything with. Still, it was refreshingly cold against his parched throat, so he couldn’t complain too much, all things considered. “Guildenstern, huh… What’s with the armor?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Least comforting thing you could have said.”

A snort, Guildenstern rising to his feet with a grunt and the creaking of nearly every joint in the whole uncomfortable looking mess, in Licht’s opinion. Yet Guildenstern didn’t seem too bothered by what was undoubtedly a getup that only made his life harder. “Wasn’t supposed to be. Behave yourself. Boss’ll want to know that you’re awake.”

Licht rolled his eyes, stuffing a hunk of bread into his mouth next. “Good. Bring him here so I can kick his ass for making me late for dinner. My parents are going to start worrying if I don’t get home soon. Angels don’t make their parents worry.”

For a moment, Guil paused, and Licht got the distinct, infuriating feeling that he was being pitied by those unseen eyes. “... I’m sorry.”

“You’d better be.” Soon left alone with nothing but a quickly depleting meal and his own thoughts as the loud clanking steadily faded away, Licht eyed the door of his cell, slowly chewing in order to better savor the flavor of the fruit while he thought.

Well, he supposed, there was no use in overthinking it. After all, an angel’s power was absolute and he could overcome anything he set his mind to.

Satisfied with his conclusion, Licht stood, wiped the back of his mouth on his grass and dirt stained sleeve, approached the cell’s door… And kicked with all his might. One way or another, he was going to get out. Guildenstern hadn’t been wrong about it being obvious where he was. He knew without a doubt the where, he had an inkling of the why, but he didn’t particularly want to stick around and confirm his theory. Such a nice meal for a prisoner, when provided by a demon, could only mean one thing. He wasn’t about to be the fattened up main course for any monster, and that getting any info out of the man stationed to guard him had been so difficult only further cemented it in his mind.

“Tch.”

The lock held steady. Once more, then. Once more, once more, as many times as it took…

“Stupid piece of… Just-!” Clang! “Die-!” Clang! “Already-!”

“First you steal my flowers, now you try and break my stuff? After I so graciously provided you with food, too. Maaan…”

Licht growled, the new irritating voice prompting him to put even more power into the swing of his leg than he had been. Although the whole door rattled in its frame… It did not give way. He swore, stepping back as a looming shadow approached.

Glittering golden scales and wickedly curved horns, razor sharp fangs and eyes that burned like hellfire, all wrapped up in cloth as dark and decadent as the pitch of night…

“You sure are a firecracker who just doesn't know when to quit, aren't ya~? Guil says you think you’re an angel. Ha! That’s a riot! So tell me, lil angel…” The dragon leered at him, curling one clawed hand around the bars of his prison while Licht glared back, baring his teeth at the monster before him. “What kind of punishment is suitable for thieves~?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

A startled laugh, smoke curling out from behind unsettlingly human lips. “Ohh, I am gonna have fun~ With~ You~”

A demon, through and through.

#kat's katerwauling #servamp #lawlicht #pawprints #look at me remembering to put a read more #and also include a link to the first part #maybe one day i'll actually set up a real writing blog #or at least put this one in order

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ayocee · 4 years ago

Text

Soba & Sweets

Summary: “RAAAAUUUUGHHHH” Like a horror movie jump scare, a walker caught between a metal display and a shelf caught you off guard. Covering your mouth you contained your scream, refocused yourself and jerked your crowbar through the walkers head. It’s body slumped on the metal display and you surveyed your surroundings.

AU: Pshhhh @blackfanatics I’m your Secret Santa! So sorry on the delay, hope you like! This is my first fic in yearrrrrs. Thanks for the cool prompt

Italics are the readers thoughts

WC: 1812

CW: Gender Neutral Reader, Cursing, Mentions of blood, Zombies, aka walkers, aka the undead

“Scout the area. Search for supplies.”

You volunteered to search for food today. Supplies were in a good place but you knew they wouldn’t be for long. The goal was to get ahead of it as soon as possible.

Your group had set up camp outside a small vacant town. It was smart not to set up shop in the town. Walker groans could always be heard right before you reach the “Welcome to Town” sign.

“Scout the area. Search for supplies.”

Your grip on your backpack loosen and the grip on your weapon tighten. The groaning and grumbles were getting louder. You were getting close to town. As you scanned the skies, you noticed dark clouds moving in.

Hopefully I can could get something good before it started to rain

A snap in the nearby foliage captured your attention and put you on high alert. A walker, just one, emerged through the tree line. You quicken your steps keeping an eye out for the walker staggering behind you.

Maybe if I’m lucky I can find some candy bars. I can’t even remember the last time I had one

You made it to the edge of town and started climbing the fire escape of one of buildings.

“Always take the high ground.” You grunted, pulling yourself up to the roof.

A quick scan of the area helped you calculate your next move. There were quite a few buildings in the town your group had yet to clear or check. One that looked the most promising was of course near the center of town. Which had the most walkers in a concentrated area.

“Fantastic.” You groaned to the skies. “Welp I better get moving.”

-------

SMASH

You had a little over maybe fifteen minutes, twenty tops. The oven timer you used to distract the walkers just went off and you knew a few would have heard you breaking in through a back window of the building you were trying to get into. Clearing the remaining glass away from the window frame with your crowbar, as gracefully as you could, climbed through.

As silent as you could manage, the crunching glass beneath your feet was the only sound that echoed in the building. You broke into what looks like an office of some sort.

Gotta start somewhere

You checked every corner and hidden crevice to make sure you were really alone. After that you raided the drawers and bookshelves. A few batteries and a flashlight were added to you backpack as you made your way to the door.

You slowly turned the knob, opening the door just a silver to peak out. There were a few walkers, somewhat dormant just slowly rocking back and forth in the area they were standing. You took in the main area of the building realizing it probably used to be a local pharmacy.

“Hell yes!” You whispered in victory. Giving yourself a lil fist pump as you eased out of the door, gently closing it behind you so no wondering walkers would surprise you on you exist. But your movement didn't go unnoticed.

“RAAAAUUUUGHHH” Like a horror movie jump scare, a walker caught between a metal display and a shelf caught you off guard. Covering your mouth you contained your scream, refocused yourself and jerked your crowbar through the walkers head. It’s body slumped on the metal display and you surveyed your surroundings.

You were located towards the back of the store, a gaggle, maybe five or six walkers we located near the front and a few stranglers heads you noticed in-between the aisle in the store. Slowly, you made your way to the marquee that listed first aid. It was one more aisle over when you passed by the candy and snagged a few.

Major score! Candy and medical supplies today way turning out easier than I thought

You were almost there, all you had to do was-

“Ahhh!” You screamed startled by the wall of walkers. You quickly back-stepped trying to catch your footing so you can escape. Apparently a previous group had attempted to set up camp in this store and died leaving their bodies to turn. A few had mangled faces and one limping slowly had a foot turned at an angle it should never be in.

Loud groans and gurgling moans started towards you and your footing slipped.

“Fuck!” You miscalculated. You scrambled back on your butt and hands, kicking your foot to knock over the walkers. Which in hindsight made it worse.

Great now their crawling towards me

You reached in backpack to grab your crowbar and starting going to work. There wasn’t a lot of them but they had the high ground from where you were crawling. And the noise, was definitely going to attract more. You best bet was to kill the ones in front of you quickly and quietly.

The sickly squish and crunch the walkers skulls made as you kicked your boots into a walker skull made you scramble more and more until you noticed one of the larger shelves start leaning. Maybe you were seeing things, that panic and the adrenaline playing tricks on your eyes. Or more walkers then you thought were on the other side. You continued thrusting your crowbar through the walkers faces trying to create some distance between you and them.

More started coming from the main entrance of the store but they weren’t all coming for your direction even though their ambling towards you was making a pretty loud commotion. Weirdly something was distracting them, drawing the walkers away from you but you couldn’t hear anything over their grueling moans and groans. Your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you focused on the three still locked onto you.

And Then…

The larger shelf you noticed earlier toppled and took out two of the three after you.

Well that’s lucky

Someone stepped over the fallen shelf, stabbing the walkers that fell with the end of his blade.

With a flick of his wrist, the blood from the blade scattered against the floor.

“Can you stand?” You nodded absently at your savior. His hair was the shade of red and white parted in the middle. Relatively clean with rugged boots and black pants. He cut down two more walkers in one extension of his arm.

“Come on, we can hide from the undead in there.” He whispered creeping behind the shelves. The commotion had drawn all the walkers that were dormant back to life and the ones outside the store took notice of the activity they caused.

You quickly followed behind him. Noticing his sword sheath and backpack as well.

Traveling light. He must be scouting too

He found an unlocked door you hadn’t noticed earlier and you both quickly shuffled inside. You both watched the undead shadows pass by the glass of the door and the crevice underneath.

“Are you with a group...or?”

He placed his finger over his lips to silence you, then pointed to the walker growling’ by. Because of all the noise created in the shuffle more walkers were banging on the main doors. Only option for escape was to wait it out then sneak back into the office you came in though to make your way out.

But first you had to wait.

“It’s easier to travel by myself.” His answer surprised you. Some time had past while you waiting for the walkers outside the door to settle down.

“It must get lonely doing that though.” His face didn’t waver at your comment and you introduced yourself. It took a beat or so. A few walkers bumping into the fallen shelf making a loud banging noise.

“Shoto. My name is Shoto.”

You stared at him. Registering that he just gave you his name.

“Thanks Shoto.”

He continued looking at the shadows passing by the door. You drank him in, letting the silence settle in between you two. You really looked at him. In the faint light coming through the frosted window, you noticed he sported a scar that covered his eye on the left side of his face.

I wonder if he got that scar before all this...or during.

“Thank you...for saving me.”

He nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t really say anything for a reply.

“You don’t meet a lot of people like that nowadays.” You tried putting weight on your foot and realized you might have sprained it when you fell and grimaced.

“Are you alright?” You didn’t realize how close Shoto had moved in front of you til you looked up from your feet. His hands hovering near your waist. Your upper back leaning against the wall.

“I’m alright, I doesn’t hurt that bad so I probably strained it- Oh fuck your hand!” You whispered shouted gripped his large hand between the two of yours. It was warm and red, a cut slicing through the meat of his palms, blood dripping through his fingers.

“I cut myself when I was pushing the shelf I guess.” You quickly shrugged off your backpack and took out some medical supplies you just acquired to patch him up.

Up until this point Shoto hadn’t changed his stoic face until you applied an alcohol wipe to his hand and he hissed.

“Sorry, just don’t want it to get infected.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t want you ending up like one of those guys, especially with a sword like that on your back.” A small smile graced his face and you smiled back.

“You’d definitely do some damage.”

You finished patching him up but still held his hand as he looked at you. He slowly pulling his hand away from yours and you faked cough to clear the awkward tension of holding his hand. Packing away the rest of your supplies away.

“What’s one thing you miss?” He quirked an eyebrow at you. You decided to slide down the wall as rest. You didn’t know how long the both of you would be in here. Might as well save up your strength. He mirrored your movements sitting in front of you.

“Come on, what’s one thing you miss before the world went to shit.” The end of his lips quirked up at you statement.

“I can only pick one?” You chuckled at his reply.

“Okay as many as you want.” He used his good hand to stroke his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. Like there wasn’t the undead a few feet away from you both, groaning and fiending for your flesh.

“Soba and sweets.” You titled you head at his response. Trying to remember the last time you had soba or anything close to it.

“Mines was definitely candy bars and indoor plumbing.” He actual chuckled. You reached into you bag and pulled out two candy bars you swiped tossing one to him and ripping the other open with your teeth.

#secret santa #shoto torodoki #shoto x reader #au #fanfic #drabble #zombie au #bnha scenarios #bnha #shoto x y/n

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thelastspeecher · 4 years ago

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Angenie AU - Untangling

Yes, that is an absolutely horrific title for this ficlet, but I really wanted to give this ficlet a title and this was the best I could come up with. And it sort of fits. Gotta untangle all the chaos and crossed wires that happen in this ficlet. Also, fun fact I recently decided for this AU, which is revealed in this ficlet: this is a rare AU where Angie takes Stan’s last name when they get married.

(This ficlet is the third chronologically. First chronologically. Second chronologically.)

——————————————————————————————

Stan and Angie followed the McGuckets into the living room. Mrs. McGucket looked around the room with a slight grimace.

“Well, this is disgusting. How’d this place come to such a state?” she asked.

“You’d have to ask Ford that,” Stan mumbled. Mrs. McGucket glanced at him curiously. “My brother. He’s the one who owns the place. Actually, the reason we came here was to check on him.”

“Hmm.” Mrs. McGucket snapped her fingers again. Silver sparkles filled the living room. When they cleared, the room was clean and neatly organized. Mrs. McGucket took a seat in the recliner that had magically appeared, lounging like it was a throne. Mr. McGucket stood next to her, a hand on the back of the seat.

“I think it’s best if ya tell yer whole story, son,” Mr. McGucket said. Lute joined his parents.

“Yeah,” Lute said. Stan looked at Angie. She smiled at him encouragingly. He took a breath.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“The manner through which ya met our daughter would be good,” Mr. McGucket said.

“Right. I was in the Middle East-”

“Why?” Lute interrupted.

“I had business to do there.”

“What kind?”

“Look, buddy, just let me get to the important part, okay?” Stan snapped. Lute scowled, but made a “carry on” gesture. “I was in the Middle East. While I was wandering around the desert, I found this oil lamp just sorta sitting on the ground. I picked it up. It looked kinda dusty, so I rubbed it. And Angie came outta it.”

“How long were ya in the lamp, sweetie?” Mrs. McGucket asked Angie.

“I ain’t quite sure, Ma,” Angie replied. “But prob’ly at least a couple weeks.”

“Poor thing,” Mr. McGucket said.

“I used my first wish for money-” Stan continued.

“Of course ya did,” Lute muttered.

“-and I used my second wish to free Angie,” Stan said, ignoring Lute’s interruption. “I didn’t expect her to stick around to give me the third wish, since, now that she was free, she didn’t need to. But she did. And after a while, we started dating.”

“There was no datin’ while I was beholden to him,” Angie said. Lute rolled his eyes. “Lute, if I wanted, I could’ve left him at any point.”

“Still feels weird,” Lute mumbled. Mr. McGucket shrugged.

“It ain’t that dif’rent from how I met yer mother. ‘Course, I used my very first wish to free her.” Mr. McGucket smiled at Stan. “Don’t worry, son, I won’t judge ya fer usin’ yer second to free Angie. The order don’t matter. What matters is that ya freed my daughter instead of wishin’ fer somethin’ to benefit ya.”

“Yeah.” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. “So, after Angie and I started dating, we sorta kept doing what we were doing before.”

“Which would be?” Mrs. McGucket asked.

“Traveling. Had some fun. Went to weird places. Angie almost destroyed multiple landmarks with her magic.” Stan smirked at Angie. She rolled her eyes, the gesture very similar to her brother’s from a moment ago.

“Wait, what?” Mrs. McGucket asked.

“Yeah, Angie sucks at magic. Unless it’s an actual wish, she messes up a lot. She’s gotten better, though. ��Now, she only really screws up every other spell.”

“Rude,” Angie said playfully, punching Stan’s shoulder. Stan chuckled. Mrs. McGucket pursed her lips. “Ma?”

“I might want to give ya some exercises to help ya gain more control.”

“That’s better than what Stan’s been sayin’,” Angie said. “He keeps thinkin’ that there’s somethin’ wrong, that I should see a magic doctor or somethin’.”

“I ain’t no doctor, medical or magic,” Mrs. McGucket said. “But I can do a quick scan of ya, Angie, to see if there’s somethin’ a bit off ‘bout yer energy that could be causin’ difficulty in spelling consistency.”

“Sounds great,” Stan said. Angie frowned at him. “Like I keep saying, someone as smart as you should be better at your job.”

“But the scan can wait until after ya finish yer story,” Mrs. McGucket said.

“Right.” Stan cleared his throat. “We traveled for a while. Eventually, we visited my hometown so I could talk to my mom. And while we were visiting her, she told me that she hadn’t heard from my twin for a while. So we decided to check in on him.”

“And?” Mr. McGucket prompted. Stan opened his mouth.

Wait. Do I really need to tell them everything? They don’t need to know the dirty details about my twin brother going to a different universe or whatever.

“…When we showed up, the house was empty,” Stan said after a moment. Angie frowned at him. He soldiered on. “I decided to use my third wish to find out what happened to Ford, and when I did, Fiddlesticks got teleported in front of us and then passed out.”

“Fiddleford,” all four McGuckets corrected.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“He’s yer brother-in-law, you should really learn his proper name,” Angie hissed. Lute leaned forward.

“Hang on, what did ya just-”

“Is that the whole story?” Mr. McGucket interjected. Stan nodded. “Hmm. Well, I could use some time to ruminate on that. Sally, want to scan Angie?”

“Sure thing.” Mrs. McGucket got up from the chair. “Angie, follow me to a private room, please.”

“Sure, Ma.” Angie stood on her tiptoes to kiss Stan on the cheek. “Play nice with my Pa and brother, okay?”

“Since you asked,” Stan sighed. Angie chuckled and followed her mother out of the room. An awkward silence fell. “So…”

“What are yer intentions with my sister?” Lute blurted out. Stan frowned at him.

“What?”

“Lute,” Mr. McGucket sighed. He raised an eyebrow. “Though, in all seriousness, do ya intend to marry Angie?”

“We’re already married.”

“What?!” Mr. McGucket yelped.

“We stopped by Vegas a bit ago. It felt right. So we got married.” Stan shrugged. “No big deal.”

“I- yes, it most certainly is a big deal!” Mr. McGucket said firmly. “Marriage is a big commitment. And yer s’pposed to share the moment ya take on that commitment together.”

“There were like, a coupla guys there.”

“Share it with yer fam’ly,” Mr. McGucket insisted. “Not a ‘couple of guys’.”

“Angie already told you that she felt weird about talking to you, since she wasn’t sure how you’d respond to the whole genie thing,” Stan said. “That’s why you weren’t invited. My folks weren’t invited, either.” Mr. McGucket continued to scowl. “But, I dunno, if it turns out to be as big a thing for her as it is to you, maybe we can-”

“Stanley?” The men looked over. Mrs. McGucket stood in the entryway, her face carefully neutral. “Come with me.”

“Uh, okay.” Stan followed Mrs. McGucket out of the room, down the hall, and into a bedroom. Judging by how neat the room was, Mrs. McGucket had used her magic to clean it, too. Stan sat next to Angie, who was sitting on the bed. “What’s going on?” His eyes widened. “Wait, did the scan find something?”

“Yes. It did.”

“Is there something messing with Angie’s magic?”

“Not yet,” Mrs. McGucket said slowly. “What I found with the scan, it’ll disrupt her magic, but not fer a lil bit. It’s too early on. No, her issue with her magic seems to be that she wasn’t given any proper trainin’. I’ll be sure to give her some guidance and leave her with steps fer practicin’ when we part ways.”

“Then what did the scan find?”

“I overheard that ya got married to Angie in Vegas. Which is a good thing,” Mrs. McGucket said evasively. Stan frowned, bemused. Angie put her hand on his knee.

“Stanley,” she said softly. She squeezed Stan’s knee. “I’m pregnant.” Ringing filled Stan’s ears.

“You’re what?” he asked.

“Pregnant.”

“With twins,” Mrs. McGucket added. Stan’s jaw dropped. “It’s too early to tell much more ‘n that with a basic scan like what I just did. But Angie told me some of what she’s been experiencin’ health-wise lately, and what she said confirmed the results of the scan.”

“You’re- you’re pregnant?” Stan whispered. Angie nodded, tears in the corners of her eyes. “I’m- I’m gonna be a dad?”

“Yes, dear, you are,” Angie said.

“What?!” a voice shrieked. The door to the bedroom slammed open, revealing Lute. Lute glared at Stan. “The first time I see my baby sister in ages, it’s with some feller what freed her from a lamp, then dated her, then married her, then got her pregnant? This ain’t right!”

“Lute!” Angie scolded, jumping to her feet. “Nothin’ is wrong with any of what ya just said! Yer just strugglin’ with it ‘cause this is the first time you’ve met Stan.”

“And this first time, I’ve learned everything I needed to ‘bout him,” Lute said firmly. Stan got to his feet.

“C’mon, man, stop overreacting like this.”

“I ain’t overreacting,” Lute snarled, stomping over to Stan. He jabbed Stan’s chest with a pointed finger. “Yer a stranger to me, but ya knocked up my lil sister. I don’t want ya ‘round here.”

“Like you can make me go anywhere,” Stan scoffed. Suddenly, copper sparkles appeared around Stan, blinding him. When his vision cleared, he was in the front yard. “What the-”

“Lute, what did ya do?!” Angie’s voice shouted from inside the house.

“I didn’t do nothin’!”

“Yes, ya did!” Angie argued. Stan rushed back inside, slamming the door behind him. “What was-”

“I’m fine, Ang,” Stan called. “I wound up in the front yard. Don’t know how.”

“Lute did it,” Angie said. Stan headed for the bedroom. Mr. McGucket had joined his wife and children there. Angie glared at her brother. “Guess he’s a genie, too.”

“I ain’t no-”

“Every genie’s magic has its own color,” Mrs. McGucket interjected. “Angie’s is gold. Mine is silver. The magic what accompanied Stan disappearin’ to the front yard was copper.”

“Not to mention, Lute, you wanted Stan out of here,” Angie pointed out.

“Bang-up job on that, by the way,” Stan said. “You sent me, what, thirty feet?”

“Sorry, next time I’ll send ya to the bottom of the ocean,” Lute said tartly. Mrs. McGucket glared at him.

“Lute Everett, that’s it!” she snapped. She grabbed Lute’s ear and dragged him out of the bedroom.

“Ow, ow!” Lute yelped. “Ma!”

“Yer father ‘n I ‘re goin’ to have a talk with ya while we let Stan ‘n Angie deal with their big news,” she said firmly. Mr. McGucket sighed. He looked at Stan and Angie.

“Congratulations, you two.”

“Thanks, Pa,” Angie said quietly. Mr. McGucket kissed her forehead.

“I’m just glad to have ya back. Ya comin’ back with a husband and baby on the way, why, that’s just sugar on top. But I better go help scold some sense into yer brother.” Mr. McGucket patted Stan on the shoulder and left. Stan closed the door behind him.

“Your family’s intense,” Stan said. Angie smiled and sat back down on the bed.

“We’re married. That means they’re yer fam’ly, too.” She frowned. “By the way, my fam’ly don’t really tolerate lyin’.”

“So?” Stan asked. He sat next to her.

“You lied.”

“About…?”

“About what ya found when we arrived at this house. Why’d ya tell my folks that Stanford wasn’t here? He was.”

“I know Ford was here. I was the one who got him through a portal and into a different universe, remember?”

“Why’d ya lie?” Angie repeated. “My folks have a lot of experience and wisdom. And my ma’s definitely a better genie than I am. They’d be able to help us-” Angie stopped mid-sentence. She stared at Stan. “You don’t want their help.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Look. I’m sure that your parents are nice people. But Ford was clearly in some deep shit before he went wherever he went. I don’t want your family sticking their big noses into whatever Ford was up to here.”

“Big noses, huh?” Angie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, come on. You know that I wasn’t ragging on your nose,” Stan scoffed.

“I certainly hope not, ‘cause there’s a high likelihood one of yer children will have that nose.”

“And it’ll look as gorgeous on the kid as it does on you,” Stan said firmly. Angie smiled. “Seriously, though, I really don’t want your folks to get involved in Pines family business.”

“I’m involved.”

“You’re a Pines. Or did you say you’d take my last name just to make me feel better or something?”

“No, I took yer name ‘cause it looked so good on ya,” Angie teased. She interlaced her fingers with Stan’s. “Now that I’ve contacted my fam’ly, I can settle back into my proper identity a bit and get the paperwork done, make me legally a Pines.” Stan grinned at her. She looked down. “You really don’t want my fam’ly to know anything ‘bout Ford’s sit’ation?”

“No.”

“All right.” Angie took a breath. “We’ll keep ‘em out of it.” Stan kissed the top of her head.

“Thanks, babe.”

“Wow, a ‘thanks’ that I didn’t need to use magic to get?”

“I’m gonna be a dad, remember? I’ve gotta learn how to be responsible and use manners and shit like that,” Stan said. Angie chuckled. “Damn, we’re gonna be parents. We’re gonna need a house for the kids.”

“I’m assumin’ that ya want to stay in Gravity Falls so’s that it’ll be easier to get yer brother back.” Angie looked around the room. “This ain’t that bad of a place. We could stay here.”

“In my brother’s creepy rundown shack? Uh, no. We’ve got enough money to get something nice.”

“All those five-star hotels really spoiled ya, huh?”

“Yep,” Stan said cheerfully. Angie laughed. “Maybe we can go for a drive around town later to look for a house appropriate for someone in our tax bracket.”

“Like you pay taxes.”

“When I’m a dad, I probably should. Don’t wanna go to jail when I’ve got two kids at home.”

“Aw.” Angie kissed Stan’s cheek. “Yer already changin’ yer criminal ways fer yer babies, and they ain’t even born yet.”

#Angenie AU #Stangie #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Ma McGucket #Pa McGucket #Lute McGucket #McGucket Family #ficlet #my writing #normally I would ramble in the tags a bit but I have to go to work lol #speecher speaks

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rexsjaigeyes · 5 years ago

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Work for It - Part 1

Javier Peña x female reader

[Part 2] [Part 3]

Words: 2,288

Warnings: semi-angsty, a lil’ bit of jealousy, smoking, and drinking

A/N: So this is set after the events of Narcos (no spoilers though); Javi and Steve have been back in the States for a while. And yes, this will be a 3 part fic!

Gif by @pedropcl

You sighed heavily and angrily wiped down the bar table after having dealt with yet another drunken asshole. It was a hot Friday evening in Kingsville, Texas and it seemed like half the town was crammed in the tiny bar. You liked being the bartender of The Silver Spur, but you always dreaded dealing with the rowdy customers that came in after a long work day on Friday.

It had been a tiring week, and you just wanted to go home. Your foul mood only made the hours feel longer, and you prayed for something to cheer you up. Maybe these people will decide there’s a better bar to drink at and leave soon, you thought bitterly.

As you continued cleaning the counter, you noticed two men enter the bar. The tall blond had one arm slung around the shoulders of his darker haired companion as they approached you with large smiles on their faces. As you watched them in curiosity, you couldn’t help but grin at how happy they seemed as they laughed loudly.

They sat down in front of you and the blond man looked up at you first.

“Excuse me, miss,” he spoke politely as he leaned across the counter. “What’s the most expensive drink you have?” He grinned widely and patted his friend’s back. “My buddy here is buying,” he chuckled while his friend gave him a surprised look.

You smirked at the two of them, amused with their friendly banter. Grabbing one of the bottles of more expensive liquor, you returned to the counter and started pouring two glasses for them.

You enjoyed chatting with friendly customers like them, so you asked, “So what’s the occasion, boys?”

The other man laughed softly as he gestured toward the blond one, “We’re old friends but it’s been awhile since we’ve seen each other. He’s visiting me from Miami. Thought we’d go out and grab a few like old times.”

You smiled at both of them and slid them their drinks, taking a moment to notice how attractive they both were. As you handed them the glasses, you caught a glimpse of the dark haired man checking you out.

You watched his eyes linger on your cleavage but it didn’t take him that long to look back up at your face with a small smile. He definitely knew how to throw a woman a glance that could make her knees weak, but you tried to keep your composure as he held eye contact.

“Well I hope you guys enjoy your time together. And let me know if I can get you something less expensive too,” you winked at the dark haired man before making your way to a customer at the far end of the bar.

As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, so you put a little extra sway in your hips as you left. And just like that, you could feel your previously sour mood getting better already.

Javier took a sip of his drink, watching as you left to tend to another customer. He gulped down the bitter liquid and dragged his eyes away from your ass so that he could turn towards Murphy. Meeting his eyes, he saw the smug look on his old partner’s face and immediately recognized it.

“What?” Javier asked softly and tried to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks.

Steve scoffed under his breath as he looked down at his glass in amusement. “I didn’t travel miles just to watch you ogle women at a bar.”

“Hey,” Javier chuckled while raising his hands in mock surrender, “if you came here to see me, then that’s exactly what you signed up for.”

Taking a gulp of his drink before shaking his head, Steve responded, “You haven’t changed at all, Peña.”

Javier smirked and glanced over at you for a moment. “At least I’m not just relying on prostitutes anymore,” he said as he continued to watch you talk with other customers.

“So you made some progress,” Steve deadpanned, making Javier laugh as he pulled his gaze away from you.

Willing himself to pay more attention to his friend, Javi turned his body in the direction of Steve and pulled out his box of cigarettes. He handed one to Steve and tried not to think about the way your dress perfectly hugged your curvy figure.

“So how’s life been in Miami?” Javier asked, trying to change the subject.

Both of them spent a while smoking, drinking, and catching up on what they’ve been up to since they left Colombia. As you returned to check on some customers sitting besides Steve, Javier couldn’t help but check you out again, his eyes darting over Steve’s shoulder to where you were standing.

Steve leaned in close to Javier and whispered, “Why don’t you ask her out instead of staring at her ass all night long?” He lightly hit Javi’s chest with the back of his hand before adding, “If you don’t do it, I will.”

Javier quirked his eyebrows at Murphy while he blew out some cigarette smoke. “Aren’t you married?”

Steve grinned and called out to you without responding to Javi, “Uh, excuse me!” He tapped the rim of his empty glass as you approached them.

Javier was feeling a little antsy now, thinking that Steve was really about to ask you out or say something that would embarrass him. His eyes flitted between his friend and your smiling face as you grabbed the bottle of alcohol to refill Steve’s glass.

Steve gave you a small nod in thanks and spoke before you could leave them. “I don’t think we introduced ourselves,” he said with a flirtatious smile.

Javi might have been known as a flirt, but Steve knew what he was doing, and the look he gave you obviously had the right effect as Javier watched your cheeks tint slightly from the attention.

“I’m Javier,” he cut in before Steve could say anything else.

He covered up the urgency in his voice with a seductive smirk and bedroom eyes. Javier liked the way you smiled shyly as his eyes quickly raked down your body. He never failed to make his intentions easily known.

Almost forgetting about the other pair of eyes watching them, Javi tore his gaze away from you when he heard Steve clear his throat. Looking down with a grin, knowing he was caught staring at you, he gestured towards Steve.

“Uh, and this is Steve,” he muttered and watched both of you closely.

He didn’t like the way Steve looked at you, perfectly mimicking the look Javi gave you seconds ago but making it seem more suave with his Southern charm. Steve extended his hand out for you to shake, drawing Javi’s eyes to where Steve’s thumb caressed your skin for a second too long.

It wasn’t that Javier was jealous, but he just didn’t like being one-upped in his own game– and by Murphy of all people. He swallowed thickly and waited for another opening.

You told them your name, nodding your head politely as you shook Steve’s hand. Steve cut in quickly, leaving Javi with his mouth oddly hanging open.

Repeating your name, Steve drawled, “What a beautiful name.”

Having had enough, Javier slapped his hand against Murphy’s back a little too harshly. Steve turned towards him with a pained look at first but couldn’t help smirking at how annoyed Javi was.

“Alright,” Javi chuckled, trying to break up the flirting between the two of you. “Ignore him. He hasn’t been around any women other than his wife.” He emphasized the last word, giving Steve a pointed look.

Smiling over the rim of his glass, he took a sip before answering, “Nah, that’s not it. It’s just the overly-friendly cop in me.” Steve winked at you as he spoke, and Javi knew what kind of game he was playing now.

“Oh, you’re a cop?” You said in surprise, your wide eyes focused on Steve’s baby blues.

“We’re DEA actually,” Javi spoke before Steve could, wanting to bring your attention back on him. He didn’t normally use the DEA card, but he was starting to run out of ideas with Steve competing against him.

“Really? Both of you?” Your eyes moved between the two of them in interest, clearly wanting to know more. “So what’s that like?”

Javier felt relief, knowing he had a better handle on the conversation now; talking about being a DEA agent was always easy for him. As Javier answered your curious questions, Steve kept quiet, knowing his time to tease Javi had ended.

As the night went on, the three of you chatted, but Javier grew more confident when it became clear that you were only flirting with him. In between serving the other customers and cleaning down the bar, you were stopping near them whenever you could and letting your eyes wander down Javier’s long neck as you batted your eyelashes at him.

Two rounds of drinks turned to three and then Steve decided it was time to leave.

“Alright,” he groaned as he got out of his seat. “It’s been fun and all, but we’ve both got an early morning tomorrow and I gotta call Connie before bed.”

He smirked at Javi, before throwing some money in front of him and patting his back.

“What’s tomorrow?” Javi asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Steve grinned before saying, “I’m finally takin’ you duck hunting.”

Javi laughed at that, raising his glass before taking a sip of his drink. As Steve turned to leave, he pointed in your direction while you had your back turned to the two of them.

“Oh and I mean it. You don’t ask her out–”

Javi laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah,” he said dismissively. “Tell Connie I said hi,” he yelled out to Steve as he walked out of the bar and smirked at Javi over his shoulder.

Soon after, you returned to check on Javier and wipe down the spot that Steve was sitting at.

“Your friend left already?”

“Yeah, he thought you and I would need some time alone,” Javi answered cheekily.

“How thoughtful of him,” you replied sarcastically, but the smile on your face meant you were amused with his joke.

Javier watched you silently as you worked nearby, cleaning glasses and picking up trash. The crowd in the bar was starting to die down, and it was just a matter of time before you would be closing up. He figured it was now or never to ask you for something more than just drinks and flirting.

“So,” he started, catching your attention as you put some glasses away, “How much longer before your shift is over?”

You laughed softly, asking, “Why? You planning on taking me home?”

He tilted his head at you, eyeing you up and down provocatively. “Would that be so bad? I saw the way you’ve been looking at me all night. And I know you noticed how I looked at you…”

With a grin, Javier watched you blush again for the upteenth time tonight. He enjoyed how your body easily reacted to his words, but that didn’t stop you from being quick-witted.

“Okay, I’ll admit you are attractive, but–”

“But?” He questioned with a small frown.

“But I know how guys like you work,” you responded. “We’ll fuck once and then I’d probably never see you again.” You finished putting away the glasses and moved to stand in front of Javier. Looking him in the eyes, you teased, “I’m not looking to get my heart broken right now. That’s why men like you aren’t really my type.”

Javier quirked his eyebrows at that, not expecting you to have turned him down.

“How do you know I’m not your type?” He asked.

“I work at a bar,” you said softly. “I meet men like you every day.”

He knew you didn’t mean it too harshly, but he couldn’t help feeling a little hurt by that statement.

Blinded by his feelings and barely registering what he was saying before it was too late, he asked, “Why don’t you give me a chance before making that judgement?”

There wasn’t nearly enough time to take those words back. As much as he wanted you, he wasn’t planning on making that much of a commitment. Luckily, you weren’t so easily persuaded.

“Tell you what… If I see you around again, maybe then I’ll take you up on that offer.” You chuckled and started making your way to one of the last customers. “Have a good night, Javier,” you shouted out to him over your shoulder.

He tilted his glass back as he watched you leave. Throwing some money on the table, he kept his eyes on you a bit longer while his hands rested on his hips. Javier berated himself for making his earlier statement, but deep down, he felt an urge to continue playing this little game with you.

A challenge, he thought as he slowly exited the bar. He wouldn’t mind a challenge for once. In Colombia, it felt almost too easy to get the stress relief he needed. And although he told himself all he wanted was a one night stand, he knew there was something different about you.

If there was one thing that Javier prided himself on, it was his persistence. It had helped him catch Escobar and it would eventually help him win you over. You might not have been interested in him at that moment, but he wasn’t going to stop trying. With a smile on his face, he waited for a cab to pull over as he planned the next time that he would return to The Silver Spur.

---------

Let me know if you wanna be tagged! <3

#divswrites #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javi pena #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

Along the same lines as my previous ask because that turned out so wonderfully! Little Monsters SternClay au? I feel like Barclay might be even worse at being a scary monster than Indrid unless he felt hurt or threatened? And Stern, the precious lil’ monster nerd, was probably a bit more than Barclay bargained for. If you decide you want to write it, NSFW is always welcome! Thank you for your beautiful writing! 😭👏🏆

Here you go! It is indeed NSFW

Barclay can totally do this. He’s seven, the same age most monsters are when they’re assigned to humans, and his teacher was very clear about what he should do. She also told him that most monsters don’t need to do much at all; the humans do the work for them, getting very scared by the smallest things.

He emerges beneath the bed, his view mainly that of a wooden floor with a few neat piles of toys and books. Reaching up, he drags his claws along the underside of the bed. There’s a creak, the child in the bed sitting up. Barclay growls, and gets a small gasp in response.

“There’s a monster under my bed.”

Barclay, unsure if the child is speaking to him, replies, “Yes. There is.”

He sniffs, and while there’s a whiff of fear in the room there’s not nearly as much as his teacher said there would be.

“What kind of monster?”

Okay, this wasn’t mentioned either. Human’s weren’t supposed to be this talkative, and also he’s not sure what this one even means by his question.

“Uh, a Barclay?”

“...That sounds like a person name. Is that your name?”

“Yes.”

“I said what kind of monster are you. Are you a sasquatch?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“A chupacabra?”

“I also don’t know what that is.”

“A frogman?”

“I don’t, uh, don’t think so?”

There’s an exasperated huff, “I’m just going to look.”

“No don’t!” Barclay squeaks, trying to make himself smaller. When bare feet hit the floor, he gives up and runs away.

What was that? Why was the human asking so many questions? Is Barclay not scary enough?

The next night, he starts with the growl, hoping that will scare the kid. What he gets is something shining in his eyes, and he just manages to throw up protective shadows to keep his whole head from being seen.

“Are you going to run away again?” The kid, Joseph, sticks the nighlight further under the bed. He’s on his belly, pajamas covered in faintly glowing UFOs, and frowns when Barclay tosses a higher growl his way.

“I won’t hurt you. I just want to see a real monster.”

“You, you can’t. It’s not allowed. I’ll get in trouble.”

That same, exasperated noise as Joseph retracts his arm, “Fine, but I still want to know what kind of monster you are. Here” he grabs a large book, opening it and shining the light so Barclay can see the pictures, “tell me when I get to one that looks like you.”

“Okay. You really aren’t scared?”

He shakes his head, face serious, “I don’t think monsters are scary. As long as you’re careful.”

Barclay feels like he should point out that sticking your arm and part of your head under a bed with a monster doesn’t seem all that careful.

“Most monsters are friendly. I think. Except lake monsters.” The boy stiffens, “you’re not a lake monster, are you?”

“No, I don’t live in a lake.”

A sigh of relief, “okay, then we can be friends.”

Barclay likes having friends, and there’s nothing in the rules that say he can’t be friends with his human “okay. We’re friends.”

Joseph smiles, begins turning pages and explaining the pictures in an animated whisper. By the end of the night, they determine Barclay looks most like something called a “bigfoot.”

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

“It’s so cute, don’t you think?” Mr. Stern steps back from the half-open door of Joe’s room, taking the stack of laundry his wife hands him, “kid’s almost nine and he still likes reading to his stuffed animals.”

“I don’t think he’s let that stuffed bigfoot you got him out of sight since you bought it. And it’s good for him to practice reading aloud.” She sets the laundry basket down on their bed, “even if he thinks he’s being stealthy by hiding on the other side of the bed.”

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

“...the end. Huh, that one was okay. What do you think?” Joseph closes the book, setting down near Barclay’s face. The boy’s sitting up on the floor, back resting on the side of the bed, with his few stuffed animals arranged across from him, so his parents will think he’s reading to them rather than the very much alive creature behind him.

“I liked the part with the prince.”

“You liked the kissing part?” He sounds amused.

“Kinda. Didn’t you?”

“I like the mystery part more. I like guessing what’s going to happen and seeing if I’m right.”

He’s right almost every time, which Barclay thinks is so cool.

“Thanks for reading to me. Same time tomorrow?’

“Yes. Goodnight, Barclay.” Joseph stifles a laugh when Barclay leans into rub his face against the exposed skin between his pajamas, knowing full well it tickles when he does.

“Night, Joseph.”

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

It’s not that his home, or the monster world, is perfect. Barclay’s met plenty of monsters his age who like to be mean for no good reason. But if what Joseph has been going through the last few days is any indication, humans really like being mean to each other.

The first night he knew something was wrong was that he nearly spoke before catching on to the fact Mrs. Stern was in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“...you all are starting middle school next year. Unfortunately, people tend to get cliquey around this age.”

“But why me? Why don’t they like me?”

What the heck? Who didn’t like Joseph? He’s smart and funny, he knows lots about monsters and aliens and weird events, he’s a good friend who listens when Barclay talks.

Barclay doesn’t like being mean, but he will for sure fight whoever is making Joseph so sad.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I wish I did. Just...try not to let it get to you, okay? And if it gets worse, you tell me or dad and we’ll try to help.”

When she leaves, Barclay doesn’t know what to say, stomach still bubbling with anger on his friends behalf.

“I don’t really feel like talking.” Joseph whispers.

“Okay.”

A sniffle, followed by a hand reaching towards the darkened floor, searching for something. Barclay spots the plush bigfoot wedged between the bed and nightstand, grabs it and sets it into Joseph’s hand.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” It doesn’t feel like enough. He wants to make it better somehow.

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

He reaches up, touching the underside of the bed, “Yeah, sure thing.”

The trouble at school has been getting worse, not better. From what Barclay can piece together, Joseph has been labeled a “nerd,” and shunned by kids who were previously friendly for fear of being labeled the same. He doesn’t tell his parents the worst of it; that he confides only in Barclay, who is discovering all the names humans have for people they want to make outcasts.

It’s time for his secret weapon. Barclay spends the afternoon in the kitchen, careful to do all the washing up since that will decrease any scolding he gets for using the oven alone. He makes a batch of cookies big enough for his parents,cousins, aunts, uncles, and anyone else who may pass by in the next two days, all so no one will notice when he takes a few with him up to the human world.

“Psst, Joseph, come down here a sec.”

His friend appears, mothman pajamas looking a little tear-stained. Barclay slides the plate out to him.

“Where’d these come from?”

“I made them.” He tries not to sound too proud; he did this to cheer Joseph up, not show off, “it seemed like you needed a friend.”

Joseph bites a cookie, smiles for the first time all week.

“Seems like I’ve got one.”

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

“How do I look?”

“From the knees down? Fantastic.”

Joseph laughs, “The door is locked, and I’ll close my eyes. Okay, closed!”

Barclay crawls out from under the bed, breath catching as he gets a good look at Joseph in his prom suit. It’s black, with a blue shirt underneath and a silver tie. With his hair slicked back, he looks like a secret agent, like a movie star, like, like…

Like everything Barclay’s ever wanted.

Man, he hopes Joseph’s boyfriend knows how lucky he is.

“You look fucking amazing.”

Joseph smiles, eyes still shut, “everything is on straight? No lint?”

“Some on your left shoulder, which I’m not touching unless you want it replaced by fur.”

“Thank you, Barclay. I wish you could come with me.”

“Me too.” Barclay reaches for his cheek, thinks better of it and lowers his arm, “tell me all about it when you get home?”

“Of course.”

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

The small white lights in the kitchen are the final touch, and Barclay brushes his hands off, satisfied. At eighteen, most monsters leave home to find or build their own, and Barclay his inherited this small A-frame house from a great-uncle. It needed some touching up before it felt like home, and it took two passes with a cleaning potion to make the mildew smell go away. Now it’s all his. And just in time, too.

His first heat starts tonight, and the general consensus is it’s much easier to deal with in the privacy of your own home than in a family one. It’s also supposed to be better with a partner, but Barclay is flying solo for the foreseeable future.

What he’s most nervous about is seeing Joseph during it. He doesn’t want to miss a whole week of hanging out, but there's no escaping the fact that if he could have anyone with him during (or after) his heat, it would be his human.

But he’s got it all figured out; he’ll just ask if they can watch a movie, or maybe even if Joseph will read to him. Then he’ll go home and fuck his hand until he passes out.

Yeah, this won’t be awkward at all. It’ll all be totally, completely fine.

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

Joseph flips to the next page of The Fortean Times, the subscription an eighteenth birthday present from his dad. A slight chill drifts up from beneath the bed, and he smiles.

“How are you tonight?”

“Good. Uh, what’re you up to?” Barclay’s voice is soft, though ever since it changed that gentle baritone makes regular appearances in Joseph’s fantasies. There was a time, right after his top surgery, where Barclay read to him when he couldn’t sleep from the discomfort, and he had the most lurid dreams of his life from that voice (and maybe the painkillers).

“Reading about a supposed “meat shower.”

“Cool. Uh, um, do you, uh”

He sets the magazine down, “Are you alright? You sound kind of...tense?”

(He actually sounds squeakier than usual, but tense seemed the politer choice).

“I’m good.” Is the unconvincing reply.

“I’m coming down there.”

On his belly, he spots the reflective glint that indicates Barclay’s eyes. They’re definitely wider than normal, and from here his breathing is labored.

“Shit, you look sick. Do you need tea? Or, um, I have some painkillers?”

“It’s not pain. It’s, uh, it’s a, uh, look, it’s really, really embarrassing.”

Barclay’s breathing gets louder as Joseph ponders what else it can be.

“It’s partly your, uh, your smell.”

“Is that your way of saying I need a shower?”

“N-no, it’s my, my way of saying you smell really fucking good.” Barclay’ voice creeps upward, and a possible explanation presents itself.

“Barclay, are you thinking about eating me?”

“Not in the traditional sense, no.”

He’s certain his own eyes go comically wide.

“Fuck. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I’m, uh, I’m kinda in heat, so I’m like uncomfortably horny and I thought I could handle it and hang out but you smell so nice and I wanna fuck you so much I think I might lose it, so I’m, I’m gonna go, I’m so sorry-”

“Barclay”

“Seriously, I thought I could be chill, it’s not your fault, I’ll come back when it’s over, should be about a week, a miserable week, oh fuck sorry I didn’t mean to say that either.”

“Barclay” Joseph says firmly enough to make the monster stop talking, “I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you, um, do you-” oh, right, he’s not very good at this either. He’s learning to be smooth, but it all tends to evaporate when sex comes into play. He inhales, tries again, “If I sit up on my knees with my hands on the bed and you come behind me, even with my eyes open I won’t see more than maybe your hands and arms.”

“You..you want me to fuck you?”

He sounds so hopeful, and it makes Joseph blush, “Yes, Barclay, I do.”

A low, hungry growl, “Get comfy.”

The sound turns him on so quickly that his pajama pants are wet by the time he gets them off. Toys with the bedspread to calm himself as he whispers, “I’m ready.”

The same growl as something heavy crawls from beneath the bed, growing loud enough to shake the lamp. Thank the lord his parents are gone for the weekend.

Warm, slightly furry hands drag up the backs of his thighs, “Fuck, look at you. You always look so fucking put-together in your matching pajamas, like you think someone might be watching.”

“Someone has, for over a decade.”

“True.” There’s a zip and a scuff of fabric, then pants and long-sleeve shirt hit the floor in his periphery, “think it’s time I did something else.” He nudges Joseph's leg with his knee, “spread ‘em, babe.”

He gets his legs as wide as he can comfortably go, tenses when the head of a very large cock presses against him.

“Um, Barclay? H-how much bigger than me are you?”

Barclay’s chin rests on the top of his head as two large hands, at least fifty percent bigger than a human’s, come to cover his own on the bedspread.

“Oh. Um. Alright then.”

“This still okay?” Barclay noses down through his hair to kiss and nuzzle his neck, “Can stop if you want. I’ll go slow to start, I promise. I, I don’t wanna hurt you, wanna make you feel good.” It’s a borderline whine, laced with sweetness and accompanied by the monster rolling his hips, rubbing his cock along Joseph’s folds.

“Yes, very okay, I, I just need to, um, mentally prepare. I didn’t ever expect my first time doing this would be, um, with you.”

“You’ve never done this before?”

“I’ve had other kinds of sex, just not this.”

Strong, fuzzy arms encircle his waist, Barclay growling even louder as he grinds against him.

“Mmm, do you like that, big guy? Like the idea of being the first?”

Barclay stops breathing for a moment.

“Oh lord, I’m so sorry, I, I don’t know where that came from, it sounded much better in my headOHokay, okay.” He laughs as Barclay rumbles low, mouthing at his neck, “if you bite just do it below the collar.”

“Yeah, yeah, gonna mark you up, fuck” his cock bumps Joseph’s leg, smearing pre-cum along it, “babe, please, can I fuck you now?”

“Since you asked so nicely yes, you canAHnnnnnnfuckohmyfuckinggod.” He drops forward, head on the mattress as Barclay pushes in. They don’t get far before he winces, pointing at the bedside table, “lube, need lube, please.”

He keeps his eyes on the bed as wooden bangs and a pop reach his ears, Barclay pulling out to slick himself up.

“That’s like half the bottle, that should be good right?”

Joseph smiles, anticipation rippling up his spine, “There’s only one way to find out.”

The cock is just as overwhelming the second, Barclay building a steady, gradual rhythm of thrusts, going a little further on each one. The shaft is flared, so the deeper it gets, the more Joseph has to open his legs. When his knee slips in a stray bit of lube, Barclay’s hands drop to his thighs once more, keeping him upright.

“God” Barclay’s growls are whimpers now, his teeth tugging his ear and tongue lapping at his neck, “god, Joseph, you feel even better than I thought.”

“Been imagining this a lot big guy?’

“Uh huh.”

He reaches back, the angle awkward as he keeps his head facing forward, but finds Barclay’s cheek, stroking the soft fur, “me tooOOHh, that’s, that’s as far as it can go.”

“Fuck, a third of it is still out.”

“S-sorry”

“No it’s” A kiss to the top of his head “it’s so fucking hot, you’re so fucking perfect and you’re fucking straining to take me, I could fucking split you, gonna fill you up so much and so hard you’re gonna still be dripping when I come back tomorrow”

Now it’s his turn to whimper, the thought of a repeat performance making him dizzy with excitement. The intensity heightens every time Barclay touches him or nestles closer, every time he’s reminded of how big the monster is, how obviously strong. He’s right, he could tear Joseph to pieces if he wanted to. But instead his nose is once again at the base of his neck, praise and sweet, shy promises dripping down his back.

“Whatever you want babe, whatever you need, it’s yours, wanna take such good care of you, wanna make you mine.”

Joseph wiggles his hips, claws digging into them in reply, “then do it. I’ll tell you to stop if it’s too much.”

The next thrust shoves his bed six inches to the right, Joseph scrambling to hold on as the monster pounds into him. A moan winds its way out of his mouth, punctuated by shouts. Whenever he makes one of those, Barclay chuckles smugly and squeezes his thighs or his ass.

“That’s it, fuck, make noise for me babe, love hearing you feel good, want everyone to know you’re taken.”

“C-careful what you wish fofFUCK, if we get the cops called on us for this it’ll be mortifying.”

“Don't care, wanna hear you scream.” Claws scrape across his ass.

“AHGODyes, I know big guy, but if I have, have to explain that to my parents, I’m revoking your fucking privileges.”

A growl, teeth on his neck, “You wouldn’t dare”

“I would, so behaAAAAveemphh” He laughs into the palm now across his mouth, Barclay grunting with effort as he fucks him fast. A howlgrowlpurr floods the room and Joseph gasps, not anticipating the feeling of Barclay coming inside him.

The monster stays put, but loosens his grip and drops his hand in favor of roaming his fingers across the human’s body.

“Did, did that do it?” He wants to turn his had, wants to be able to see the answer on Barclays face, wants to do silly things like kiss him and gaze into his eyes as he comes down.

“Only kinda. I, uh, I wanna go again and this time I really, really, really wanna make you cum.”

He takes Barclay’s right hand, sliding it down to his dick, “Here, let me demonstrate.”

As he guides the slightly rough fingers at the correct pressure and angle, Barclay purrs louder and begins thrusting. Gradually, they’re surrounded by the twin, obscene sounds of fingers on slick skin and Barclay’s cock fucking his own cum back into the human.

Once he gets the gets the hang of the motion, Barclay nudges his hand out of the way to stroke him off alone, working his fingers in time with hips.

“I love feeling you like this, Joseph, fuck, please, wanna make you cum every day.”

“Pace yourself, big guy, f-focus on making me cum now, ohOHlord, fuck, fuck yes, like that, likethatlikethatohgod.” He slumps across the bed as the orgasm ripples through him, holds on for dear life as Barclay lets out a proud yip and proceeds to fuck him so vigorously he’s amazed he doesn’t chip a tooth.

This time, Barclay pulls out as soon as he finishes, cum dripping down Joseph's thighs onto a spot on the floor he will definitely be cleaning before tomorrow. Warm, furry weight leaves his back, replaced by Barclay’s fingers rubbing his shoulders.

“Um how, how did I do? Did you like it?”

“Was amazing.” He slurs into the pillows, “y’so good, Barclay.”

That rumbling purr again, a kiss on his cheek, “Close your eyes?’

He does, the thwip of the covers being turned down followed by strong arms scooping him up, setting him on the sheets and, after a short trip under the bed, cleaning off his legs before helping him back into his pajama pants.

“Joseph I, um, I just wanted to, um, to say thank you. I never thought you’d want me to do that with you and , and I just can’t believe you like me that.”

Feeling round, he finds his hand and holds it, “I wanted it more than I was ready to admit. I want you.”

“Can I stay and talk for awhile? Under the bed?”

“Of course, big guy.”

The next week is filled with normal days and strenuous, wonderful nights. Barclay fucks him into the bed once more, and when his parents are back in the house he and his monster get creative, using blankets on the floor, a makeshift blindfold, and a white noise machine. On one occasion, Joseph lays on his back on the bed, eyes shut and legs over Barclay’s shoulders as he eats him out with muffled sounds of joy.

When Friday night rolls around, Barclay surprises him.

“Babe? You feel like coming under the bed?”

He does, though he only fits through whatever magic of science allows Barclay to be there without being smooshed (or tipping his bed sideways). It’s dark, but the monster takes his hand, guiding him into a warmly lit room with a large bed, a bookcase, and a floor strewn with cookbooks. The longer he looks, the more he notices the area by the bed is dotted with candles and flowers, the nearby wall hung with little heart-shaped lights.

“I’m not supposed to be seen in the human world. But I didn’t see a rule about being seen in my own.”

Joseph turns.

Standing behind him is a figure with reddish brown fur, a humanish face, pointed ears, claws, and rather big feet. He’s dressed in a red flannel shirt and soft looking pants, deep brown eyes lit up like a supernova as he looks at the human.

“What do you think?” He rubs his arm with a shy smile.

“I think I’m the luckiest human in the world if you’ve been under my bed all these years.” Stepping forward, he takes the monsters hands, grinning up at him, “and you’re even hotter than I was picturing when we were, um, fucking this week.”

A blush is just visible under the fur on his cheeks, “aw, thanks babe. Both for that and for letting me spend my heat with you. That’s, uh, part of why I wanted you to come down here. After all that time in bed, I figured we should have a real date, even if it’s just a stay-in one. I meant all that stuff I said, Joseph; I wanna be so good to you, you have no idea.”

He raises an eyebrow, “I have some.”

“True. So, what do you say? Up for a first date?”

“Yes.” He tilts his head up, guides Barclay down by the chin and kisses him with the full force of years of accumulated affection, “but only after our first kiss.”

#sternclay #agent stern/barclay #reader request #monster under the bed

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tragedy-for-sale · 4 years ago

Text

Pizza and Beer pt. 2

Honestly I love happy fics. Okay these don't have a plot so don't attack me-

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The speeder stopping hadn't affected Rex. Partially through the ride, his head started to hurt again and he'd become numb, silent. Anakin hadn't noticed until now, Rex hadn't moved, staring straight forward. "Hey Rexster?" Taking off the helmet, Anakin sat down and looked into Rex's eyes, "Hey, we're here, come on, let's go inside and patch up your head." He said softly, waiting to see if he'd react. He knew Rex had heard him, but part of him didn't react.

"We're here?" Rex mumbled at last, slowly turning his head to meet Anakin's gaze. "Can we patch up my chin now?" He asked. Anakin smiled in relief before nodded. He took the pizza before watching Rex. How hard had he fallen?

"Yeah, come on," Anakin said again as they walked up to Padme's apartment. Anakin unlocked the door, "honey! I brought a stray home!" He announced as he closed the door, locking it then walking with Rex to the kitchen.

"Oh Anakin!" Padme called back, "Another one?!" She exclaimed as she shuffled into the kitchen and was surprised. "Oh- Rex, oh, what happened to your chin?" She walked to Anakin and gave him a kiss before opening a cabinet to grab a first aid kit. "Come, Rex, let's catch up." She smiled.

Rex looked to Anakin who gave him a nod. Rex then trudged after her, "Don't you wear tiaras to sleep?" Rex asked. Padme turned and had a lingering smile of confusion on her face. "I like your sleeping tiaras, Anakin makes them sound super cool." He continued. Padme then realized he was either drunk or groggy or both.

"Do you want to wear one?" She asked with a small laugh. She lead Rex to the bathroom, "Go ahead and sit down," setting down the first aid kit she looked for a suture kit and something to clean the wound. Whatever she couldn't find, she found in a bathroom cabinet.

"Can I wear one?" He asked as he looked around the bathroom, "Why is your bathroom so big?" He rambled before Padme walked over.

"Yes, you can wear one," she smiled, drying off her hands and grabbing a cloth and Alright, this is gonna hurt, but we got to clean your chin before I stitch it up," she spoke, beginning to clean his face. "Then we're gonna numb your face, then I'll stitch your face up and I'll put a bacta patch on and Anakin and I will check your wound later." She told him, but she then realized he was too lost in his head to have retained anything she had said. Rex knew not to talk, so he just closed his eyes and tried to remember why he was here. "Anakin!" She called.

"Yeah babe?" Anakin called back before appearing in the doorway with pizza, "Watcha need?" He asked, taking a bite. He looked at Rex then back at Padme, who mouthed something that he seemed to understand, to which Anakin replied in the same manner "I needed a friend." He'd mouthed. Padme rolled her eyes.

"Alright Rex, I'm putting on the bacta patch," placing it down she then snapped the kit closed, tossed the trash and went to wash her hands. "Anakin, go get Rex a tiara."

"A what?"

"One of my night tiaras," Padme stated again. "He wanted to wear one, I presume his cut face is because of you, so he gets to wear one, you can wear on too, but he gets first pick." Padme dried off her hands, "I'm gonna go get food," she whispered before 'running' to the kitchen.

"I don't wanna wear a tiara," Anakin mumbled grumpily as he shuffled to the tiara case and opened it. "Okay maybe I do- Rex!" He exclaimed, "Pick one so I can," taking another bite of his pizza, Anakin watched Rex come over to the stand and then just stare at them.

"Those are so pretty-" his eyes went wide as he studied each tiara, all of which were as breathtaking as the rest of her apartment. He reached out and grabbed a silver one, diamonds and sapphires embedded. "Fancy smancy" putting it on, he felt pretty cool. "Why am I here again, sir?" Rex turned to Anakin who'd grabbed a golden tiara.

"Cause I needed someone who isn't as smart as Padme, she has a fully functioning brain and I can't process all that genius. Also I was lonely cause she was ignoring me." He added, voice going quiet at the end. Rex nodded as he started to walk down the hall to the kitchen. Anakin followed him, watching the man dig through the fridge.

"I think I need a Kix, it might be you but my head hasn't stopped spinning." Rex grabbed a jello cup then went to grab a spoon. This wasn't the first time Anakin had dragged him to his house and it probably won't be the last. So Padme always had jello for him. "I hit my head- but you do give me really bad headaches, like really really-"

"Okay, I get it." Anakin snapped as he grabbed another slice. "Wanna go watch bad TV?" He asked, grabbing the pack of beers. Rex shrugged, opening the jello cup and downing the whole thing right there. The two made it to the main room, both plopping down on the couch. "Hydrate." Anakin tossed him a beer as he turned on the TV.

Rex opened the beer and also downed the whole thing right there. "I don't think alcohol is good for hydrating." He said, grabbing another one. "Or anything really." He mumbled as he took a drink.

Anakin was flipping through channels, half ignoring Rex, "You know what isn't good for hydrating? Thinking." Anakin replied as he tossed the remote after settling for a reality TV show. "Padme thinks and then she gets stressed and then bam! She's dehydrated." Anakin looked around, "Wait- where'd she go?"

Rex looked around before putting his hands to his bandaged chin, "She was bandaging my chin, then she said she went to go get food-"

"Padme!" Anakin got up, walking over to the kitchen, "Where are you?" He called, walking into the bathroom then their bedroom, guest room, and every other room. "I lost my wife." Anakin said to Rex, who quite literally looked like a lump.

"Did you forget to cherish her?" Anakin stared at Rex for a solid minute until they heard the door open. Both men jumped to their feet and got ready to fight. But when they got to the door, there was Padme.

"Ani, I was on the phone." She stated, annoyance in her voice, "Bail wants to work on our speeches together so I'm heading over, will you and Rex be okay here?" She asked, walking towards her office closet to grab a bag before putting her work in it.

"Oh, uh, yeah we'll be fine, honey." Anakin shook his head, "Be careful, and com me when you get there, actually, I'll just take you, I don't want you going out alone when it's so late" Anakin stated as he grabbed the keys to the speeder off its hook. Padme had gotten her bag packed and was putting on a night coat.

"Alright, are we leaving Rex here? The speeder only fits two people." She asked as she left the room and heading towards the door. Anakin hadn't replied right away, he went to check on Rex, and when he did, he saw the man buried in throw pillows.

"Yeah, he'll be fine." He said at last, "Rex, imma go drop Padme off at Bail's then I'll be back" he called. The Captain didn't answer. Padme raised an eyebrow but Anakin wasn't entirely surprised, "He's lost in the sauce," Anakin said again as he opened the door for Padme.

She grabbed her tiara off his head, "Honey, what does that even mean?" She asked. She presumed he met the pizza sauce, for the box had been sitting on the throw pillow that was resting on Rex's lap. Anakin locked the door then held out his arm and Padme wrapped hers around his.

Rex had carefully gathered every throw pillow in the apartment, grabbing the pizza box and then had headed back to the couch. He didn't know where the two got off to but Rex knew to mind his business and find a place with thick walls. So he'd made a fort on the couch. He started to eat pizza and his brain probably shut off, for he was staring into space and had zoned out. He had stayed frozen but inevitably jumped as he brought himself back into reality.

He looked around, "General?" He called. "Hello?" He said, this time in a whisper. Had they left? Had Rex forgotten to cherish them? "Huh." He sighed as he leaned back. "Wack" he opened another beer. He didn't quite know what to do, he could go back to the barracks and sleep, but he then realized this couch was much more comfy, and he had pizza. The barracks didn't have pizza. "But they do have Fives...." He thought, pulling out his com.

"Fives, get up."

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|| Tag List ||

@ct7567329 @a-lil-perspective @mageofcole @advcntura @crying-at-ikea @stuckyjacos @crahsystor @obiorbenkenobi @satan-incarnate-666 @kalm421 @passionofthesith @mackstrut @flyingfreeyt @jonathananubian @kamino-mermaid

#i don't know where I'm taking this-#captain rex #he's loopy #clones #clone wars #star wars #tcw #sw #okay #Anakin Skywalker #padme amidala

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al-pomegranate-seeds · 4 years ago

Text

Warm food and warm hearts

“He wouldn’t say he was anxious. Or, yes, maybe he would say so, but it wasn’t...Bad. It was like when he was a child during Summer’s End, awaiting for father to finish preparing the bonfire so they could eat meat pies and drink hot chocolate with honey (it was one of the only days where he could drink honey besides right before his bedtime), and then mother would dance while holding him in her arms before putting a tiny drunk child to sleep.

Or: Logan's boyfriend invites him to stay the night in his apartment.“

Pairings:Logince, eventual DLAMP.

Urban fanatsy.

Tags: Fluff, First Kiss, a lil bit of angst, trans man!Roman, genderfluid!Logan

Warnings: A whole food discussion.

Characters: Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders, Remus Sanders, Dot(Cartoon Therapy)

Sequel to my fic “The hands they held”(https://al-pomegranate-seeds.tumblr.com/post/635778410466197504/the-hands-they-held-roman-looked-at-the-flower) and second installment in my “Unicia” series.

Archive of our own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27737170

Logan let out a sigh as he closed the glass doors of the shop. Today had been especially taxing, it seemed. More customers than normal had showed up, right on the day when he felt his social battery had started lower than normal, and Roman hadn’t been able to come visit, having three long appointments to start.

Logan could feel his cheeks heat up(and see his glittering reflection on the glass) as he thought about that last one. It felt a bit ridiculous that Roman’s mere one day abstention was a factor in his mental exhaustation, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it. Roman had truly been a blessing, appearing on the shop’s first day of existing in that specific location, initiating a conversation with Logan and quickly establishing something they had in common. And then the friendship, which was more than Logan ever expected, going on for a approximately seven months of them sharing their interests and listening to each other ramble about things they didn’t necessarily understand, all of this during work breaks and in their respective places of work.

And today, Roman had invited him to spend the night in his apartment.

Logan wasn’t foolish, he didn’t expect them to go very far. Hell, three weeks and a half of dating and they hadn’t even kissed yet! But it was a big step, to be allowed into one’s home. And besides, Remus wouldn’t be there, occupied with some sort of date (“it’s a booty call, nerdy Wolverine”), and they wouldn’t be exchanging soft compliments and hand kisses on neutral ground.

He wouldn’t say he was anxious. Or, yes, maybe he would say so, but it wasn’t...Bad. It was like when he was a child during Summer’s End, awaiting for father to finish preparing the bonfire so they could eat meat pies and drink hot chocolate with honey (it was one of the only days where he could drink honey besides right before his bedtime), and then mother would dance while holding him in her arms before putting a tiny drunk child to sleep. She hadn’t been able to hold him anymore after he hit puberty, but they still danced the night away, drunk on honey and alcohol and love.

So maybe a better word to describe how he was feeling would be that he was excited.

“Oh come on kid, leave the cleaning up to me.” Logan heard mother say behind him. He spinned quickly, and she was smiling at him like she knew something he didn’t. She probably did.

“Absolutely not, I cannot allow you to clean everything up alone – “

“Logan.” She said firmly, and Logan shut up. “You’ve been staring at that damn tattoo parlor for eight minutes. Go see your pretty boy, I’m not too old to clean a damn shop.”

Logan felt his face heating up again, the light of his freckles lighting up mother’s face.

“I – ok. I’ll go. But promise not overexert yourself.”

“Fine, fine, I promise, mother hen.” Logan rolled his eyes, before kissing mother on the cheek and grabbing his bag, going for the backdoor.

When he stepped inside the tattoo parlor, he could see that Roman and Remus were already turning off the lights, Roman’s curly, long, cardinal red hair pulled up in a bun, his tanned skin stained with ink, and Remus’ hair as unkept as always.

Logan wouldn’t ever admit it, but he would always melt when Roman smiled at seeing him.

“My love!” Roman exclaimed, running up to Logan and picking him up only to spin him in the air.

Logan would normally feel awfully embarassed at such a display of affection, but when there was only them and Remus, who might as well be his friend at this point? He couldn’t manage to make himself embarassed enough to reprimand his red haired love.

Love. By the stars, love. They were going awfully quick, weren’t they? He couldn’t bring himself to care.

Roman finally put him down, only to grab his face with both hands and start peppering kisses all over it. Logan was almost drunk enough on the kisses to not notice Roman was following his freckles with his lips.

“This is cute enough to make me want to take my eyes out with a spoon.” Logan heard Remus’ voice, and Roman groaned, dropping his face on Logan’s shoulder. Logan could see Remus was wearing ripped black skinny jeans over fishnets and a bright green crop top.

“Oh, fuck off, go rummage for trash you fucking racoon.”

“I have already rummaged, bitch brother of mine, tonight I get to eat the trash.”

“Oh for the love of the ghosts, I literally hate you so much – “

“Sure, sure, hey Logan, bye Logan, use protection!” Remus said as he walked out of the parlor’s doors, mounting his bike and finally going.

“Fucking trash eating little gremlin.” Roman murmured, before kissing Logan’s shoulder(well, his shirt, but it’s the thought that counts) and raising his head to look at Logan, big smile already back on his face. “So! Are you ready?”

Logan, still flustered by the kisses, simply nodded.

“Alright, my apartment is just up those stairs, you can go up and settle down while I finish closing the shop.” Roman said, before laying a final kiss on Logan’s cheek and walking towards the doors Remus had left unlocked. Logan went up the stairs, face still hot, and as he went to open the door that sat on top of them, he couldn’t help but feeling that awfully warm and fuzzy thing inside his chest when he touched the doorknob (thankfully made out of copper), as it finally hit him that yes, Roman was actually letting him inside his home without caring about what Logan could do while he was absent. If any fairy(specifically the fairies Logan grew up around) had done something like this, it would be seen as foolish, if not downright scandalous.

Logan shook his head before finally opening the door.

The apartment was...Not exactly what Logan was expecting(with the level of average drama between Remus and Roman combined, he almost expected for red theatre curtains, swords, thrones and life sized statues), but he couldn’t deny that it did fit both of the twins.

The first thing Logan noticed was that, while there weren’t any theatre curtains, there was a fair amount of red and green decoration, including but not limited to a golden and red peacock statue and a green hand showing the middle finger statue. The floorplan was open, with a living space decorated in whites and blacks right in front of a tiny kitchen decorated in the same color scheme. It probably wouldn’t fit the two brothers if there weren’t paint stains all over the furniture, along with various papers with drawings that Logan assumed were possible tattoo designs covering the walls and the fridge.

Overall it seemed like Roman and Remus had taken something that wasn’t theirs...And made it theirs.

Logan noticed there was a fireplace sitting adjacent to the couch, and there were small amounts of clutter there, like a bunch of unopened letter, a clear glass chocolate jar, silver and gold jewelry and two wands.

He set his overnight bag on the side of the couch and sit down, analyzing the drawings covering the walls while he waited for Roman.

Aproximately ten minutes later, he heard the door opening and Roman’s voice rambling.

“Well, that’s it, the shop is closed, the equipment is clean, the lights are turned off and – wow, is that a cutie sitting on my couch?”

Logan raised one eyebrow, but Roman kept looking at him expectantly. He simply sighed before saying with a smile “Yes, dear."

“I knew it, my suspicions are confirmed! The most gorgeous being is indeed inside my apartment!”

“Oh you – you are too kind.” Was the only thing Logan could say, still not used to having those exhuberant words directed at him, but not at all displeased by them.

“On the contrary, I am not kind enough!” Was the answer he received, as Roman jumped to sit on his side and grab his face with both hands. “For example, I have yet to tell you how stunning your freckles look today, they look like you were carved out of a giant diamond then strategically painted over with the finest pigments one could find – “

“Oh – Roman.“Was all Logan could say, as he felt his stomach fluttering like it was full of living snap-dragonflies, and Roman’s entire expression went too soft for him to handle. Luckily, Roman bent down to kiss his cheek before Logan had to decide what to do to hide his undoubtedly lovesick expression. The peck on his cheek went on for long enough that he could calm down. Roman looked at him before leaving a final quick kiss on the other cheek and retreating.

“I have vegetable and mushroom pie, butterscotch pie, linean bread, and cinnamon rolls in the shape of a bunny. Do you want to eat before watching the movie or after?”

“I’d like to eat before. It’s hard for me to concentrate on the movie if I am eating.” Logan responded, trying not to get distracted by Roman’s hand on his cheek.

“Ok.” Roman said, before letting go of him and getting up. “ You can go change while I set the table, if you want. The bathroom is that door on the left.”

Logan nodded and got up, going in the direction of the bathrooom as Roman went in the direction of the fridge.

The bathroom was a small, simple one, with slightly off white tiles on the walls and floor, a normal toilet, sink and shower. He set the bag down on the toilet to grab his pajamas, a knee length, dark blue pajamas skirt and a black baggy t-shirt. He put on simple black socks before closing his bag and getting out of the bathroom.

Roman had already set the table, it seemed, as he was getting out of what Logan assumed was his bedroom, finishing the process of putting on a red tank top over white sweatpants.

“Hey.” Roman said, grabbing Logan’s hand and leading him to the small square glass table on the space to the side of the living space, on which was laid out all of the food he had mentioned before. “What do you want?”

“I’ll have the vegetable pie, and I want to try the bread, I’ve never heard of it.”

“Oh, then you’re in for a treat, my love, it’s bread made in Linea, the elf nation I – that is, the elf nation my mother comes from. It’s made with ground lineo and mock-turtle milk, so the texture is different from wheat bread, and it’s savory.”

Logan simply nodded, grabbing butter and spreading it on one of the orange colored slices of bread that had already been cut, before cutting out a slice of the vegetable pie.

He went for the bread first, and it was...Delicious, certainly, but also not what he was accustomed to. The texture was less starchy and more smooth, more, well, damp, than wheat bread. It tasted like a mixture of ground beef, chicken, lentiles, and was almost spicy, the saltless butter balancing out the savory taste.

“This is delicious. I’ll have to introduce you to a dish to thank you for it.”

“Oh hell yeah, I can’t wait to find out what fairies eat.” Roman responded, grabbing a slice of the butterscotch pie and two cinnamon buns. Logan looked at him, amused, before saying:

“Oh, you’ll probably like it, there’s enough sugar in a single meal to rot your teeth. My favorite drink is hot chocolate with strawberry sugar and honey.”

Roman smiled like was planning something, before finally saying “Ah, explains how you’re so sweet then.”

“I – Roman.” Logan responded, slightly out of breath and only able to reach for the other’s hand so he could hold it while eating, just like the day Logan brought him to the shop’s kitchen and they – well, confessed wasn’t exactly the right word. Caught up to each other, that fit better.

“My father used to cook plenty of meat with honey for – well, it wasn’t dinner, exactly, we ate right before going to sleep, it was the only time I was allowed to ingest honey in any way, lest they had to deal with a drunk seven year old that wasn’t going to sleep soon.” Logan smiled softly while allowing his gaze to go unfocused with nostalgia for a few moments. “Now I cook too, and I couldn’t be more grateful for him.”

“Did you grow up around fairies?”

Logan’s smile widened a bit. “Yes. Mother, father and I grew up around my grandmothers, my father’s mothers. They were both fairies, and one of them was my stepgrandmother. We lived in quite a cold location, so the food was always very heavy and full of calories for our bodies to burn. By the moon, I...I miss them so much, I loved them so much.”He smiled softly at his hands, caressing Roman’s wrist, before looking back at him.” What about you, did you grow up around elves?”

Roman’s hand suddenly tightened around Logan’s own, and Logan saw an aprehensive look on his love’s face for about two seconds before he relaxed.

“I...No. Remus and I grew up with my father and stepmother. I don’t...Have the best memories about them, because well...”He trailed off, biting his lip while looking lost in thought.

“You don’t need to tell me, if you don’t want to.” Logan said, squeezing his love’s hand. Roman squeezed back, smiling at him with that besotted smile that still left Logan quite breathless.

“It’s not that, I do want to tell you. Um. Hey, love, did I ever tell you how my birth name isn’t Roman? It’s actually Valerie.”

Logan was startled enough to stop caressing Roman’s hand for about one second before he came back to himself and his task.

“I see. So I take it neither of us is cis?”

Roman let out a shaky breath, before smiling. “Yeah.”

Neither of them had felt like watching the movie, after that, and when Roman put on some romantic Disney songs, Logan couldn’t bring himself to resist the invitation to slow dance in their pajamas in the middle of the living room.

“So this is love, mmm, so this is love...” Roman sang into Logan’s neck, while the fairy traced the lines of a tattoo he had in between his shoulderblades, a red crest that depicted a castle standing before a sea and under a spiral sun. “So this is what makes life divine...”

“I cannot believe I’m the one saying this, but you, sir, are a giant nerd.” Logan said, his voice far too soft to be mocking. He then sighed “Love, huh? We are going awfully fast.”

Roman raised his head, his expression way too worried for the fairy’s taste.

“I don’t intend on stopping it. It’s...Scary, maybe, but I’m nothing but sure in what I feel for you.” Roman looked a little bit like someone had punched, before asking:

“May I kiss you?”

Logan felt like he had been punched, then, punched by how much he loved the man in front of him and wow, he was really head over heels huh.

“You most definitely may.”

The kiss wasn’t how it happened in movies. It wasn’t desperate and full of passion. It was calm and gentle and only warmed up slightly when Logan introduced tongue, and he was almost overwhelmed by how much love he could pouring from Roman and himself.

They kissed until they needed to breathe, and considering the both of them could hold their breath for longer than most species, it took a good two minutes before Logan had to break away with Roman chasing him, only to settle for kissing his neck.

Logan let out a shaky sigh as he felt Roman’s lips leave soft, gentle kisses on his skin, and he simply stood there until Roman was satisfied. When he was, he raised his head, looking at Logan with na aprehensive expression that didn’t fit the occasion.

“I...I hope the neck wasn’t too much. I could stop myself from kissing you as easily as I could stop the sea waves.”

“It was perfectly fine, dear.” Logan said, a little breathless. “But maybe we should go to sleep now. Tonight has been full of...Emotions.”

Roman smiled, before kissing Logan quickly on the lips and pulling him by the hand toward his room.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #fluff #urban fantasy #trans roman sanders #genderfluid logan sanders #fairy logan sanders #elf roman sanders #logince #unicia

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