#is actually a smart-but-can-we-go-back-to-how-this-is-somehow-fucking-necessary??? plan
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Hey, it is I, the anon planning sleepovers in the living room. Saw some questions and such, so I figured I'd answer some.
Myself, A, and B are all legal adults. Since it came up, I'm the oldest, followed by A, then by B, so it goes 24, 22, 20, then C who is 13 and juuust starting puberty. He hasn't even gotten to voice cracking yet, he's still in "my proportions look like a pubescent puppy with big ol' paws" mode. He is, however, taller than me and has been for months now, and I will forever make a stink about it <3 it should be illegal to be roughly half my age and already significantly taller than me <3
Since submitting this, I have confirmed that the Issueâą has been brought up to B. He just got pissed and slunk off to the shared bedroom. He has not made any concerted efforts to dial it back in the following weeks.
Why don't A and B share a room instead of B and C? Well, you see, A was diagnosed with Aspberger's at a young age. (Our parents (mid-to-late 50s, if it matters) are always very insistent that it's specified that he has Aspberger's, not just autism in general, when the opportunity to be specific comes up at all, even in the year of our Lord 2023. it's the autism speaks brainrot i think) This means that those of us who were diagnosed with some form of ADHD (myself and B) or nothing at all (C, who has not been officially tested for it yet to my knowledge) do not get away with nearly the amount of stuff A does, and A gets allowances to do things like "snarl threats at dishware that would be absolutely terrifying to overhear in reference to another human being" because he's "wired differently." Even though we're. we're all "wired differently" in this house. we all have different needs can we please stop catering to "Ideal Childrenâą" and "A, who is Different but we Will Love Him Despite This (Or Else)" and acting surprised when treating us as A Monolith and The Other doesn't pan out please please please-
It also means that a massive rift grew between A and the rest of us "kids" and it shows no signs of stopping. A's an asshole for other reasons that aren't really relevant to The Sleepoverening, but I've had to tell B to stop making "jokes" about not saving any snacks/non-food treats for A or leaving A behind numerous times. I'm pretty sure there would be several fights/snide arguments a week if they had to keep bunking together without C there as a buffer who deserves better than being a buffer.
(Sidebar- I've noticed several symptoms in myself that, through serious research and not just a few Google searches, have shown me that I'm probably AuDHD, but since it was never officially diagnosed, I must always defer to A in things like "saving safe foods we both enjoy when we're running low" because Those Are A's Safe Foods, Why Can't You Just Eat Something Else? Remember how I said I have a separate room for gender reasons? My percieved gender regularly has autistic members go undiagnosed. I'm also 95% sure C is ADHD in some manner as well, in a "recognition of the Self in the Other" kind of way, but, again, no official diagnosis means any issues he has with school are Clearly His Own Conscious Decisions. Or, in this one specific case, a side effect of B keeping him up at night.)
Why don't our parents get involved instead of leaving us to our own devices? Well, again, three of us are legal adults, and then the fourth is Mature For His Ageâą. Allegedly, we should be able to figure it out without going to our parents like little children every night. Clearly, this is Not Working, but it Should Be, so We need to Make It Work.
Why do I fear the wrath of B? Well, I've had A chuck a heavy Thomas the Tank Engine suspension bridge clear across a hallway directly at my head before and then claim I attacked him (though this was years ago) and I've seen B punch multiple walls/fridges over the years with enough force to leave rather large dents, so I'm just assuming I have some kind of internal hangup over incurring the wrath of younger brothers. Don't particularly want to get Threatened Like They Do In The Movies ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻ I'm just trying to work around the cowardice at this point.
Why don't I just tell B to his face to quit this BS, screw the consequences? Easy- he'd escalate it into a loud-ish argument, our dad would wake up, and we would all get yelled at forâŠI dunno. Dad would figure out a reason to yell at us. Maybe he'd get pissed at me and B for ruining his chances at a good night's sleep (and myself again for not Being The Bigger Person All The Time) and miss the irony- he's good at missing irony irl. He may also put words in our mouths and get angry over those. Regardless, I don't wanna put C through that. Dad's yelling is still terrifying to me as a 24yo, even when you're not the target, and it sure wasn't any more fun when I was C's age.
Why can't C just say no? Well, I have no place to guess what goes on behind closed doors, as I'm told I am a bit of a known catastrophizer, but I have witnessed scenarios where B "asks" C to hang out with him, C either declines or doesn't respond fast enough, and B's voice just gets all low and threatening for a split second as he "asks" again, which gets C to follow him. I'm pretty sure this originated when C was still an infant, when we would all go "ok now say this word!" to help teach him to speak. It was adorable when C was 1, 2, and even 3 and 4 years old. It stopped being adorable several years ago, and it became worrying (to me, at least) when it started turning into B orchestrating whole conversations via "ok now say-"ing C. Then again A did the same to me when we were little so maybe I'm just connecting dots where there are none.
This isn't necessarily me answering a question, butâŠdang, I'm seeing multiple people talking about being close with their siblings. Plural. Yall don't just rally around the ideal of your youngest as the one (1) thing you can all agree on and would probably kill and die for, possibly to the detriment of those around you (including your youngest)? Can't relate, but God I wish I did. This family's dynamics honestly feel like a dumpster fire sometimes.
Anyway, with the response I've seen to this, I think I'm just gonna tell Dad to suck it if he sees me and C sleeping in the living room one of these days. If he doesn't want me going to Looney-Tunes levels of planning just so me and C can sleep, then he can be the one to get on B's case instead of foisting it off on me and expecting everyone to be fine with it.
B might still escalate to an arguing match and draw in Dad's ire if I try, though. Hopefully I'll be successful. Fingers crossed.
WIBTA for pulling my younger brother from his bedroom for "sleepovers" in the living room in the middle of the night?
I hate how clickbaity that is, but it really is the most succinct way I can try to paraphrase this. I have submitted here before for similar reasons, so this setup may or may not sound vaguely familiar, but this is pretty self-contained as a separate issue, I think. Quick preface- I am one of four siblings. Ages aren't particularly important for this, save for the fact that the oldest three are within a handful of years of each other, while our youngest is several years our junior. I was 11 when he was born, for reference. We'll call him C, and the two middle brothers A and B.
We somewhat recently (within the past few years) moved to a new house with a few more rooms, which shook up our previous sleeping arrangements. Now, instead of A, B, and C sharing the same room while I had my own for gender-related reasons, A gets his own space while B and C continue sharing a room. This means that my room no longer immediately across the hall from all three. A has a bit of a history of being loud in the middle of the night and getting mad when others ask, request, or tell him to be quiet, so this was a relief.
However, my new room is still just a few feet away from B and C, and now B is doing loud enough things to keep me awake- mainly playing video games and either not using headphones, constantly humming loudly along to the music playing, or saying something about the game. As a "bonus," he insists that C has to watch him play the entire time.
Even though this runs well into the early hours of the morning most nights.
And C still has early-morning school to worry about.
Previously, I'd just resigned myself to shutting up, jamming earplugs in my ears each night, and dealing with whatever weirdness is making one of my ears painfully itchy on a daily basis as a result. However, recently our parents started giving C flak for staying up late. They also made sure we knew they wanted B to stop keeping him up, but I'm not sure B actually knows or cares.
C and I did a bit of kvetching about unrelated topics today, this subject came up, C told me he doesn't enjoy being kept up that late either, and I had the idea that, should midnight come and go without B quieting down, I would interrupt whatever they're doing and "ask" C if he wanted to come sleep in the living room with me. I'm putting "ask" in quotations because I voiced this idea almost immediately, and C agreed this would be helpful just as quickly; me asking would serve solely as a way to have me interject into whatever B's doing and give C a quick way out.
At the same time, B can get touchy if he thinks C is brushing him off or I'm "butting in." I mean, C and I kinda will be doing both those things if we wind up needing to do this, but B seems intent on monopolizing as much of C's time and actions as he can get away with. I don't really think they need to fully stop interacting, but maybe B needs some time to himself instead of constantly wringing attention out of the baby of the family.
Then again, B is an adult. Like, legally. He'll be able to drink in a few months. He doesn't need to act like I'm interrupting his playtime with his favorite action figure whenever I remind him C isn't required to pay attention to him 24/7.
Idk. As far as sleeping arrangements in the living room would go, there's enough furniture to go around. I'm just not entirely sure if butting in would be an asshole move. Justified? Almost certainly, I think. An asshole move? That, I don't know. Whatever the case, I'm hoping these things work out quickly enough that we don't lose much more sleep. We're tired of finally managing to get to sleep at 3 AM.
What are these acronyms?
#gah. sorry if i'm coming across as massively bitter. i mean i AM massively bitter but yknow. it's not directed at anybody on tumblr#âŠunless one of my family members is keeping something a secret. heh.#honestly i thought I was gonna get a bunch of ESHs here or something.#we're all a little fucked up and i think me and c are the only ones who realize it.#though uh. clearly i'm not realizing the full extent of it if my seemingly-logical-if-annoyingly-necessary plan#is actually a smart-but-can-we-go-back-to-how-this-is-somehow-fucking-necessary??? plan
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Truth Will Out
Tag List: @jinxqsu @riddles-wifey@naps-and-lemons @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute
Content warning: Smut, light bdsm, power dynamics and a questionable use of veritaserum
A companion piece to Tender, We Lay Bound
His smile turns wolfish at the slight tremor in your voice and he cocks his head to one side, the hand that isnât holding the vial, moving slowly up your calf, up the curve of your knee before flattening across the meat of your thigh and stroking the sensitive junction where your thigh meets your pubic bone. âDo you trust me?â He asks, which isnât exactly an answer, but you think thatâs maybe the point.
It starts, as most things with Tom do, with a hand on your lower back and his voice, soft and low in your ear, âIâd like to try something tonight.â Itâs really incredibly unfair that he chooses the moment when youâre about to walk into Potions to whisper this to you because now youâre going to be distracted all through your assessed brewing of Veritaserum. Judging by the smirk that curls Tomâs lips as he takes his place next to you at the front of the class, heâs fully aware of this. He lays his equipment down neatly in front of him, looking for all the world, like every teacherâs wet dream: prepared, inquiring, and engaged in the lesson. You know him better though, you know that heâs actually the devil incarnate, and is currently enjoying your flustered attempts to pay attention to what Slughornâs saying about the forthcoming lesson.
Slughorn waves his hand to signal for you all to start gathering ingredients and Tom leaves to fetch the things youâll both need. Youâve been brewing your batch of Veritaserum for the past month and today will reveal whether or not youâve succeeded. The mark you get in for this potion will count for a family large portion of your overall grade, and itâs a good thing that youâre partnered with Tom, because whilst you might be one of the best in the class, your mind is so far from the task at hand that you know youâll be relying on him for most of the more focussed aspects of the brewing today. You also know that Tom is probably cognizant of this fact and planned it as such.
Damn him. If he didnât make you so weak at the knees, youâd have hexed him by now.
âWas that really necessary?â You ask when he returns, snatching the caladium root out of his hands. You start shredding the delicate roots with a little more force than is probably good for them, and besides you, Tom tsks.
âIâm quite sure I have no idea what youâre talking about, but you should be a little gentler with those,â He gestures to the roots. âWe wouldnât want to do poorly on this test because youâre a little riled up, would we?â Gods, you hate it when he teases you. Well, no, thatâs a lie. Most of the time you love it when he teases you, but usually, youâre not in a Potions class with half your grade hanging over your head.
He chuckles lowly at your expression which is one of annoyance and indignity and spends most of the rest of the class alluding to the plans he has for you whilst expertly managing your potion so you can continue to daydream about what he might mean. It doesnât escape your notice that Tom pours an extra vial of the Veritaserum when the time comes to present Slughorn with your finished product. He slips the extra into his pocket and raises a finger to his lips before you can question him.
You manage to avoid Tom for the rest of the day, which is good for your sanity for two reasons: firstly, whenever he had spotted you, he had given you a knowing look and found a way to touch you that from an outsider perspective would look entirely innocent but had left you dizzy with anticipation and unable to focus on anything other than the mysterious things he had in store for you. Secondly, and youâll never admit this to him, your overactive imagination has run away with itself fantasising about the night ahead, and the way that he looks at you makes you think that he somehow knows exactly what you're thinking. Youâd rather save yourself the embarrassment of his smirks and wry hums of amusement.
***
Of all the evenings for Tom to be busy with his Head Boy duties, it obviously has to be today. Youâre fairly sure heâs planned it like this because you know him well enough by now to know that that he likes it when youâre a little on edge. His desire for control and power over the people he surrounds himself with manifests itself in multiple ways: with his friends, he leads with an iron fist, viewing disobedience as a betrayal; with his professors, he charms and manipulates until he has them wrapped around his little finger; with you, itâs slightly different. Your family, whilst not doing badly, cannot open doors for him the way the Maylfoyâs can, and youâre smart, but not outrageously so, so the impetus to use you for your talents isnât there either. When Tom tells you that he wants you for your company and your companionship, you believe him. No, with you, his want for control manifests in slow touches, whispered commands, and a desire to see you fall apart in a way you refuse to do for anyone else.
His dormitory is empty when you enter, which is hardly a surprise; his roommates know when to make themselves scarce and to leave you privacy. You take a moment to gather your wits and to try and calm your nerves before you take a seat in the centre of his bed. The minutes tick by excruciatingly slowly, and you fight with your school tie, trying to guess if he would like it if he found you naked and waiting or if he wants the pleasure of undressing you himself. It all depends on his mood which can as mercurial and changing as the tides. You settle on a compromise, more because youâre impatient and excited and restless. You abandon your robes, leave your tie on the desk beside the bed, and unbutton the first three buttons of your shirt before settling back against the soft pillows and try to focus on the book youâve brought with you.
The door clicks open and shut and you startle at the noise. Tom leans against the doorframe, half-hidden in shadow, a tempting and dangerous sight as he appraises you slowly. You swallow around your nerves, and your throat constricts as he loosens his ties and walks over to you, predatory and sleek, like some sort of wild cat, all tightly controlled power ready to be unleashed. It makes your mouth water.
He more or less crawls up the bed and you let your legs fall open to accommodate him. He reaches forwards and cups your jaw in his hand, his fingers splaying so that he cradles your head and you instinctively press your face into his hand, seeking contact and heat and protection. âHave you been waiting for me for all this time?â He says and you nod, eyes slitting to watch his pleased smile at your response. âGood girl. Are you ready for me?â
âI thought you might like to take care of that,â You murmur and you canât deny the way excitement leaks into your voice. He hums approvingly and pulls away, just a for a moment as he reaches inside his robe to retrieve a small vial of clear liquid. Your eyes widen slightly at the Veritaserum dangling delicately between his fingers. âIs that what I think it is?â
His smile turns wolfish at the slight tremor in your voice and he cocks his head to one side, the hand that isnât holding the vial, moving slowly up your calf, up the curve of your knee before flattening across the meat of your thigh and stroking the sensitive junction where your thigh meets your pubic bone. âDo you trust me?â He asks, which isnât exactly an answer, but you think thatâs maybe the point. Tom has a strange thing about trust; he likes it when you prove your loyalty to him. Drinking a potion where youâre not entirely sure what the effects will be is definitely something you can see him enjoying.
Slowly, hesitatingly, you nod and he pushes you back against the pillows. He brushes his thumb against your lower lip and pushes two fingers inside your mouth. Heat and desire lick like flames across your skin and your thighs clench in anticipation and need. He lets you run your tongue over them, suck them slowly before he removes them and pinches your chin to keep your mouth open as he pours a few drops onto your outstretched tongue. âThatâs it, such a good girl for me,â He says, barely more than a whisper in the heavy silence that surrounds you. His eyes are dark with want and gratification, and he begins to undo the buttons of his shirt, revealing smooth, pale skin that you want to lick.
He leans over you and kisses your jaw and trails bruising kisses against your neck, humming softly when you gasp. âDo you want me to touch you?â He murmurs into your skin and the potion, which you can now confirm was Veritaserum, works its magic and you feel a compulsion to answer.
âYes, please, I wantââ Your words are cut off by a low moan as he brushes his fingers over your underwear which are already damp with your desire for him.
âSo wet for me, already.â Heâs playing with you at such a leisurely pace that your pleasure is mingled with frustration but when you try to shift your hips closer he pushes you back against the mattress. âSo impatient, tell me, darling, how do you want me to touch you?â
You begin to realise exactly why he wanted to use the Veritaserum because you want so many things, you want his fingers and his mouth, you want him to kiss you, to undress you, to play with you until you canât think let alone talk. These are not uncommon wants when it comes to Tom, but youâre normally too embarrassed to voice them to him, no matter how much he enjoys listening. Now, with the Veritaserum, itâs as though your voice acts without you telling it to, the words tumbling from your lips unbidden and a deep flush rises up your chest and neck as you whimper, âI want⊠I want you to take my clothes off now, and I-I want you to, fuck, I want your mouth.â You feel overexposed and vulnerable admitting this to him and your eyes are squeezed shut tight because even looking at him is too much right now.
He rewards you for your forced honesty by giving you exactly what you asked for, peeling your underwear down your legs and burying his head between your thighs, lapping at your folds like a parched man. Itâs glorious, it always is and soon your clothes are discarded and you keep babbling away, asking and requesting until youâre incoherent. Even though he is the one acquiescing to your every whimpered desire, Tom is still firmly in control. Every sentence out of his mouth is framed as a question, forcing you to answer honestly even when it makes you blush and squirm. Every one of your fantasies is laid out in front of him and the fact that he could ask you anything and you would be compelled to answer truthfully is never far from your mind.
âLook at you, if only you could see yourself,â Tom mutters, his voice rough with exertion, sweat beading in the dips of his collarbones as he pushes you against the pillows, one of his hands reaching and pinning both of your wrists above your head. âDo you like the sound of that? Would you like to see me fuck you? Do you want to see how wrecked you look?â
âYes.â
Neither of you lasts very long after that. You cling to him desperately, your legs locked tightly around his waist as his breathing grows erratic. Your entire world is narrowed down to Tom and the feeling of his body moving against yours. Everything feels strangely floaty and distant, yet still incredibly intense as if your mind and body canât quite comprehend whatâs happening and is just rolling in sensation and emotion and feeling. The heat that had encompassed you before he even entered the room grows hotter and the flames of your desire burn brighter. You feel your orgasm build low in your belly, a tight ball of tangled nerves that snowballs and crashes over you as you shake with barely contained need. Tom grips your hip, pulling you somehow closer, and licks a wet stripe between the valley of your breasts, his teeth catch your earlobe and you shudder with overstimulation. He lasts another three strokes before he comes with a shaky gasp, his lips brushing yours.
For a moment after, you just lay there, a tangle of limbs and sweat and body heat. Eventually, though, he rolls off of you, and you stretch your aching limbs before snuggling into the duvet. Itâs when he passes you a small vial of a swirling grey-silver liquid that what youâve just done truly hits you. You swallow the antidote hastily and the empty vial falls from your grasp. You feel suddenly overwhelmed and strangely bereft. Blindly, you reach for Tom, searching him out for contact and comfort and reassurance.
âI⊠Was that okay?â You ask unable to hide your worry that youâve somehow let him down. Tom immediately moves to wrap you in his arms, dropping a soft kiss to the top of your head.
He tilts your head to face him and his eyes search yours, a small frown marring his forehead. âDarling, you were perfect,â He murmurs, seemingly understanding implicitly what youâre really asking. He tucks you closer and presses his lips to your cheek. Considering what youâve just been doing, itâs all very chaste. âCome here, let me look after you.â
Feeling slightly more relaxed, you bury your head against his chest and allow him to do just that.
A/N: So this is a companion piece to Tender We Lay Bound. Obviously, you donât need to read that for this to make sense, but I wanted to explore the power dynamics that would lead to the aftercare in that fic. I wanted to say here that the characters here trust and love each other, but this is honestly pretty bad BDSM etiquette and a seriously under-negotiated kink and scene. Obvs, this is fiction, so whatever, theyâre all good and happy, but all kinks should be negotiated and discussed and all scenes should be planned and talked about by all parties involved. I hope you enjoyed and I just wanted to add this because ya know, it's important!
#tom riddle#tom marvolo riddle#tom riddle x oc#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle x y/n#tom riddle x you#tom riddle fanfic#tom riddle imagine#tom riddle imagines#tom riddle fic#minific#harry potter#tom riddle fanfiction#tom riddle smut#tumblr fic
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More âbitingâ đ stories of coops please?
Anon 1: Do you think youâd be willing to do more kinky coops? Maybe a follow up to truth or drink where Sirius gets tied up again?
Anon 2: Mixed prompts 80-83 pls!!
Happy Valentineâs Day, everyone! This is part 1 of todayâs fics--hope you enjoy! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove, whom I love and adore.
TW for restraint kink, edging, smut, and hickeys
Mixed Prompt 80:Â â Youâre going to regret that sweetheart.â
81:Â âAre we clear?â
82:Â âTry to stay quiet, understand?â
83:Â âDonât hold back, baby.â
âDid you see Coachâs email?â Remus asked as he scrolled through his inbox and reached for another piece of chocolate; they were shaped like little hearts, because Sirius was a sweet, sweet muppet of a man and had a romantic streak wider than the continental US.
âI did, yeah,â Sirius said from the doorway to the kitchen. âItâll be pretty nice, having two days off in a row.â
Remus read through the rest of the message. Too much snow, unsafe conditions, practice cancelled, yada yada yada. A sudden thought struck him and he glanced up. âHey, maybe we could try something a little moreâŠâ
Sirius grinned as the chocolate clattered to the countertop, along with Remusâ phone. âHappy Valentineâs Day, sweetheart.â
Remus swallowed around the sudden dryness of his mouth. Chest. Arms??? THIGHS. FUCK. âHuh?â
âI was saving these for our actual day off, but it seems fate had other plans.â Siriusâ grin became a downright smirk as he quirked an eyebrow and bent his knee.
âWhenâhowâwhat?â Remus couldnât tear his eyes away from the tight, dark red fabric that covered Siriusâ legs up to his thighs. Bows. The socks had bows on the top, and they matched his underwear. âHow long have you been standing there?â
Sirius shrugged. The upper half of his body was bare, and Remus tracked the movement of every muscle. âAbout five minutes. Your email must be very exciting.â
A soft whine escaped his throat. âWhere did you get those?â
âOnline.â Sirius flexed his thigh and all the air rushed from Remusâ lungs. âWhy, do you like them?â
âI want to take them off with my teeth,â he blurted. âFucking hell, Sirius.â
âThat can be arranged.â Mischief played at the edge of his mouth as he began backing away. âThough youâll have to catch me first.â
And he ran. Remus stood there in shock for a moment before sprinting after him, skidding on the floor as he grabbed the bannister. Sirius was already on the bed when he made it to their room and snapped the top of one thigh-high at Remus playfully.
âYouâre going to regret that, sweetheart.â
âPromise?â
Remus was on him in an instant, sucking a bruise into the side of his neck as he pushed Siriusâ arms over his head and settled between his thighs, grinding his hips down. âHow long have you had these?â When Sirius smiled instead of responding, he bit down on his shoulder. âTell me.â
âFour days.â
âWhere did you hide them?â
Sirius gasped at the pressure on his wrists. âNightstand.â
âDo you have any idea what you look like right now?â
A slow, smug look covered his face and he nipped Remusâ bottom lip. âYes.â
âTurn over.â Sirius bucked his hips up instead, and Remus let go of his hands to flip him hard enough he bounced a bit, then attached his mouth to his shoulder blade. âGod, you look fucking incredible in red, baby.â
âYou think this was an accident?â
âSomebodyâs feeling bratty.â Remus dragged his blunt nails down Siriusâ ribs, and he shivered. âJust for that, Iâm going to finger you until youâre begging for it. Are we clear?â
Sirius turned his head to the side and rolled his hips back. âIâm not begging for anything.â
âWeâll see.â Remus continued mouthing along the strong line of his shoulders as he fumbled blindly in the nightstand drawer for the lube, then paused. He straddled Siriusâ waist and leaned over to sift through the various items that they had tossed in without thinkingâplaying cards, a book, Siriusâ tie, a few condoms that they hadnât touched in months⊠âWhat the fuck?â
âWhat?â
âWhereâs the lube?â
âAre we out?â
Dread pooled in Remusâ gut. The mere thought of trekking through the snow to get lube orâeven worseâfinding out all the stores were closed was almost enough to kill his boner. Almost. Sirius was still in red underwear and fucking thigh highs, after all. âNo. We canât be out. Didnât we just buy some the other day?â
Sirius shrugged. âItâs been a while, I donât know.â
âIt has been a while,â Remus muttered.
âI think I put some in the laundry room so we would have extra.â
Relief made butterflies erupt in his chest and he kissed Siriusâ cheek. âYou are so smart and I love you. Hang on one second, okay?â
Remusâ hands shook a little bit as he hurried back downstairs and down the hall, standing on his tiptoes to see into the cupboards. Laundry detergent, Windex, fabric sheets, two pairs of Julesâ socksâŠ
He pushed the detergent aside and felt around for the familiar bottle. âWhere the hell did you put it? Come on, baby, work with me here.â
Clear plastic caught the light on the highest shelf and Remus thumped his forehead against the washing machine. He got the stepstool with minimal grumbling and grabbed the lube, making a mental note to block that entire shelf and remind Sirius that he was five foot fucking eleven, which was well above average.
âBaby, we need to have a discussion aboutââ He stopped cold in the bedroom doorway, then sighed. âReally?â
Sirius arched his back as he pressed two fingers back into himself, his jaw going a little slack. âYou were slow.â
Remus took a deep breath when he saw the half-full bottle of lube on the bed next to him. âWhereâd you hide that?â
âUnder my pillow. You didnât even check.â Siriusâ breath caught as his hand changed angles, but his smile remained. âI thought youâd call me on it for sure.â
âYou know, most people wouldnât play terribly mean tricks on their fiancĂ© on Valentineâs Day, especially when that fiancĂ© was already going to fuck them so hard they canât walk straight,â Remus said as he walked slowly toward the bed and tossed the other bottle next to Sirius. âYouâd better count your lucky stars we donât have practice for the next two days.â
âOh?â Sirius eyes fluttered shut for a second and he reached for more.
Remus smacked his hand away. âYes. Was the shelf really necessary?â
âI had to delay you somehow. Did you use the stepstool, or did you climb on the dryer?â
âNone of your fucking business, tall-ass. Turn over.â
âMake me.â
Remus reached back into the nightstand and pulled the tie out, manhandling Siriusâ arms over his head and tying them to the small ring they had put in the headboard for that exact purpose. Sirius made a confused noise when Remus grabbed his silky-soft underwear off the foot of the bed and slid it back up his legs until it was snug and tight again. âMuch better.â
âWait, wait, wait, what happened to fucking me until I canât walk straight?â Siriusâ eyebrows drew together and he nudged his leg against Remusâ side, only to have it guided back down by a firm hand. âCome on, sweetheart, itâs Valentineâs Day!â
âIs it? I hadnât noticed,â Remus said drily as he squeezed the thin strip of bare skin on Siriusâ thighs. âBetween the super fun game of tag and then hide-and-seek, I thought you didnât want me to touch you.â
âBut you will, right?â Nervousness laced his voice. âRight?â
âMaybe. Might get myself off and then leave you here, though.â He leaned over and dragged his lips down Siriusâ chest. âIâm still on the fence.â
âNon, non, non, get off the fence. The fence is not a fun place to be.â
âReally?â He continued to the edge of Siriusâ waistband and dipped his tongue under the satiny fabric, then feathered his mouth along the outline of his dick until Siriusâ knees started inching upward in pleasure. âHmm. I think itâs a great place to be, actually. You could beg yourself hoarse and I wouldnât have to do a goddamn thing.â
âWhat do I have to do?â Sirius panted. The front of his boxers was already darkening with precome and his pupils dilated when Remus palmed himself through his pants.
âTry to stay quiet, understand?â
Sirius clenched his thighs around Remusâ waist as he pulled his shirt off, only to shakily straighten them out again when Remus fixed him with a withering look. His dick looked painfully hard as Remus got off the bed and slid his pants down his legs, giving Sirius a great view of his ass under the tight black underwear he was wearing.
âOh, yeah, that was supposed to be a surprise for you,â he said mildly when Sirius whined. âItâs Valentineâs Day, after all. One of us was getting railed tonight.â
Sirius perked up. âReally?â
âThat was the original plan. Now that youâve got theseââ He plucked the edges of the thigh-highs as he knelt on the mattress again. ââI might need to rethink that idea.â
âNope, no you donât.â Sirius wrapped his legs around Remusâ hips and tugged him down. âYou really donât need to rethink that, it sounds like a fantastic ideaââ
Remus pressed his palm over Siriusâ mouth and pushed his legs down with the other. âWhat did I say about being quiet?â
A soft noise tore from his chest as Remus ran the heel of his hand up Siriusâ dick and felt it twitch beneath the fabric. âDesolĂ©e,â he said as Remus scooted backwards a few inches. âDesolĂ©e, mon coeur.â
âGood job.â Sirius sighed happily as he worked a hickey onto the bit of skin between his underwear and his socks, but his chest hitched when Remus moved barely an inch to the side.
âWhatâre you doing?â
âDecorating.â
âMe?â
He sighed and bracketed Siriusâ ribs with his elbows, resting his chin on his hands. âYes, you. Youâre beautiful, and Iâm just making sure people know youâre appreciated. Now be quiet.â
âNobodyâs going to see those. Theyâll be gone in three days.â
âIâll know.â Remus placed a slightly darker bruise on his inner thigh and Siriusâ hips canted to the side with pleasure. He hummed against his skin, then pulled away. âIâll have to finish these when I turn you over.â
âWhen?â
âIf.â
âRe.â
âOh, come on,â he scoffed with a smile, leaning up for a brief kiss. âYou know me better than that.â
Siriusâ eyes crinkled. âI do.â
âLet me enjoy myself in the meantime, yeah? I think I deserve it after everything youâve done today,â he teased, adding new hickeys to Siriusâ other thigh until the bare skin was mostly dark lilac. He skimmed kisses down both his legs, paying special attention to the backs of his knees and the cute little bows at the tops of his thighs. âI love these.â
âYeah?â A pink flush spread to Siriusâ chest.
âYeah. Somehow, theyâre both adorable and sexy.â Remus reached up and tapped his nose. âJust like you.â
And then he licked a long, slow stripe up the front of Siriusâ underwear, which made him shake from head to toe. âOh, fuck me.â
âNot yet.â He did it again, this time giving his hips a squeeze. A choked moan slipped through and he shushed him softly. âQuiet, baby, remember? Iâll tell you when you can make noise for me.â
âOh.â Siriusâ eyebrows pitched upward as Remus slowly slid the sticky fabric down and replaced it with his tongue. âSâil vous plait. Sâil vous plait, mon cĆur, je le veux, sâil vous plait. â
âWhat did I tell you?â
âIâIââ Sirius clenched his teeth as Remus sucked just the head of his dick into his mouth. His abdomen jolted under Remusâ palms.
âYouâre getting all accent-y.â Remus smirked, leaving a mark on the crest of his hipbone. âI told you that you could beg yourself hoarse and I wouldnât have to do a godââ He kissed the soft skin below Siriusâ ribs. ââdamnââ Another kiss, just under his sternum. ââthing.â
A tremor ran through Sirius and he pulled on his restraint for a moment, hard enough that the headboard creaked. âNgh. I love you.â
âI love you, too. I think itâs time to finish those decorations, hmm?â
Sirius nodded enthusiastically and Remus untied his hands, flipping him by the hips for the second time. He practically purred as Remus tied him up again and pressed his hands into that broad back; Remus pushed his knees until they bent and Sirius propped himself on his elbows, breathing heavily and bare but for his thigh high socks.
âColor?â
âGreen.â There was no hesitation in his voice.
âGood.â Instead of going straight to his legs againâwhich were flexed in the new position and doing absolutely wonderful things to Remusâ thought processâRemus grabbed the half-empty lube and poured some on his fingers.
âWhatâre you doing?â Sirius asked, trying to shift around and see. He froze when the first finger pushed in without an issue. âHuh. Butâbut you saidââ
âI didnât tell you to start making noise.â Sirius pressed his face into the pillow and his knees jerked inward as Remus added a second finger. âYou already did this part for me, didnât you?â
âMhmm.â
âBut I didnât tell you to.â
âNo.â The word was barely a whisper.
âAnd as much as I love youââ He kissed Siriusâ lower back and scraped his teeth along the dimples there. ââand want to make you fall apart, I canât let you do whatever you want without consequences.â
âYes, you can,â Sirius gasped, tightening around him as Remus pressed upward. âYou can, I donât mind.â
âNo, I canât, and youâd better be quiet before I drag this out even longer.â
There was a beat of silence while Sirius got ahold of himself again. âHow long? The usual?â
âSince itâs Valentineâs Day, eight minutes.â Remus smoothed a hand up his spine and pressed down between his shoulder blades until most of his upper chest was on the pillows before slowly dragging his fingers in and out, pushing just next to his sweet spot until Sirius quaked with the effort of suppressing his moans. He added a third finger a moment later and Siriusâ thighs knocked together. âHold yourself up, baby.â
Sirius pulled his elbows in once again, supporting his chest as Remus added a few new hickeys to his thigh and stretched him slow and deep. He gave his wrist a twist when he moved to the right side and Sirius dipped for half a second, one leg threatening to give out.
âHold yourself up,â Remus reminded him, wrapping an arm around his lower belly and lifting slightly; Siriusâ breath caught and his shoulders folded in a bit. âYou okay?â
âOuais.â
âAlright. Two minutes left.â He pushed his fingers in further and felt the ripple of pleasure roll through Sirius under his mouth, then kissed the middle of his back. âLike that?â
âUh-huh.â Siriusâ voice was tight with pleasure and wavered with swallowed moans.
Remus flexed his fingers and brushed against his prostate; Sirius nearly collapsed onto the bed and a whining noise was half-muffled by the sheets. âWhat was that?â
â âs nothing, âs nothing, keep going.â Sirius tried to get to his elbows again, but even though Remus had stopped moving, he seemed to be having trouble. âSweetheart, please.â
âYou know the rules, baby. Five more minutes.â
âI canâtâI canâtââ
âYou will.â Remus rubbed Siriusâ side to soothe him, but didnât take his fingers out. âHow about this: if you can hold yourself up and make no noises for two full minutes, Iâll fuck you and you can come whenever you want. Sound good?â
Sirius nodded frantically and struggled to get his knees under himself. âDâaccord.â
âTime startsâŠnow.â Remus kept his eyes on the clock as he plucked at Siriusâ seams, spreading his thighs to get a better angle when it looked like he was starting to relax into the feeling. One minute left. Something that would have been a moan if Sirius had a little less willpower lodged in his chest and he tensed around Remus, legs shaking with arousal. He was damn near dripping onto the sheets.
Forty-five seconds. Remus bit his lip and ran his free hand up Siriusâ thigh, digging into the bruises just enough to get his attention. âYou look so pretty with these,â he murmured, leaving a trail of small bites down his spine. âIt must have been hard finding thigh highs that fit, huh? Youâre so strong, so beautiful, and I love that about you.â He made sure to run over Siriusâ sweet spot on every drag until his breaths got shallower and his dick twitched. Twenty seconds. âYou donât really want to come right away, do you? You like it when I take control. You like being tied down and edged until youâre a mess. Ten seconds left, baby.â
Siriusâ back bowed as Remusâ hand brushed his dick. âPas juste,â he blurted, then groaned when Remus paused. âFuck.â
âWas that a sound?â
âNo, no it wasnât.â He pushed back against Remusâ hand and whined when he pulled his fingers out. âRe, I only had five seconds left.â
âBummer, isnât it?â Remus said with mock-pity, rubbing wide circles along Siriusâ ass and thighs.
âOne more chance?â
âWe had a deal, love. Two minutes, no sounds, no falling. You did so well and then you tripped at the finish line.â
âYou touched my dick.â
âWas that against the rules?â
Sirius huffed and glared over his shoulder, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the pink of his cheeks and the pleading look in his eye. âIt was in my head.â
Remus made a sympathetic noise. âItâs a shame youâre not in charge today, then. Chest down.â
âI want to see you.â
âLater. Down.â Sirius rolled his eyes, but complied so his back sloped in a gentle curve; Remus smacked his thigh lightly. âDonât roll your eyes at me.â
âOops.â
âApologize.â When he stayed silent, Remus slid two fingers back into him. âSirius, apologize or Iâll get you off by fingering you.â
âIâm sorâsorry.â His hips jerked as Remus pushed on his prostate one last time.
âThat wasnât so hard, huh?â He pulled his own underwear down and tossed it to the side, reaching down to push Siriusâ thighs apart while he lubed up. âDonât hold back, baby, you can be loud now.â
âOh thank God,â Sirius breathed, shuddering a bit as Remus pressed in and began to move. âOhâoh, oh fuck.â
âColor?â
âFuckâgreen.â He gripped the poor necktie and twisted it in his hands while the pace made his knees slip. Remus put his arm around Siriusâ midsection once again while the other hand splayed on his back and held him down into the pillows.
The thigh highs began to bunch from all the movement and Remus slowed, reaching down to adjust them while Sirius clenched and unclenched his hands, mumbling out a string of pleas in English and French alike. Remus stilled for a moment and kissed the side of his neck as he relished in the heat.
âMove,â Sirius moaned, pushing back weakly. âPlease, please move.â
âI love you so much,â Remus said into his sweat-slick skin as he started again, angling up on each thrust as he lifted Siriusâ hips into the right spot. âI do, baby. And I canât wait to have two whole days to ourselves so I can admire those pretty bruises all over you.â
âLemmeâlemme see you. Sâil vous plait, mon amour, I wanna see you.â
âAlright, shhh.â Remus combed a hand through his hair and untied his wrists; they were a bit pink from all the pulling, but otherwise looked fine. He gently pushed on Siriusâ shoulder so he could roll over and was met with glassy silver eyes and lips bitten so red they almost matched his socks. âBonjour. Do you want me to tie you up?â
âNon.â Sirius smiled and pulled him down for a slow kiss, and Remus could feel his heartbeat hammering against his shoulder. âJe tâaime.â
âJe tâaime,â he murmured back as he lined himself up again. Siriusâ eyes fell shut with a moan when Remus pushed in and he inhaled deeply, winding one leg with Remusâ and letting the other splay to the side.
âThere, there, there,â he pleaded, grasping for a hold on Remusâ arms as his eyes flickered between open and shut. âOh, fuck, je veuxâje veuxââ
âDo you think you deserve to come?â Sirius made a conflicted noise and pressed his knee into Remusâ thigh, only for Remus to pull it straight once more; the sock rolled down with each rocking movement. âSirius, look at me. Do you want to come?â
It took a moment before Sirius made eye contact with him and nodded, struggling to get enough breath to speak. âYes.â
âYou were so rude earlier, but I did make you wait a long time.â Remus thought for a second, but didnât slow his brutal pace that made Sirius turn his face into the pillows. âCan you come like this?â
âTouch meâtouch me pleaseââ
Remus lifted his lower back up and ran his teeth along Siriusâ pulse point, then wrapped a hand around his dick and jerked him quick and tight until high, incoherent sounds slipped through his lips. âNow.â
Sirius nearly kicked him in the shin as he arched his back, mouth falling open, moans muffled in the hollow of Remusâ throat. He babbled some string of whimpered words, caught between pushing Remus away and pulling him closer until their warm skin pressed across his entire front and his knees bumped together over the small of Remusâ back.
Remus followed him a moment later, sliding his mouth along Siriusâ collarbone before he came so hard his arms shook with it. A soft hand trailing through his hair brought him back to earth, though Sirius still looked dazed and shuddered every few seconds as Remus stroked a hand down his cheek and slid the thigh-highs back up with the other. âShh, mon amour. Ăa va, chĂ©rie, respire. Je tâaime tellement. â
Sirius smiled and kissed him again, holding him close and warm as he pulled out. âI love it when you speak French,â he murmured. âSi beau.â
âHappy Valentineâs Day.â Their quiet laughter buzzed against his chest and he littered Siriusâ face with kisses until his silver eyes cleared. âAre your wrists alright?â
With a heavy sigh, he let go of Remus and held them up. âAll good.â
He kissed those, too, for good measure. âAnd the rest of you?â
Sirius raised an eyebrow. âI think you achieved your goal.â
âWhich one?â
âThere is no way Iâm going to be able to walk straight.â
Remus hid his laughter in Siriusâ neck and rolled to the side, gathering him into his arms. âItâs a good thing we have all weekend, then.â He checked the clock and sighed. âI should make dinner soon.â
âNo.â
âNo? Iâm not allowed to make us food?â
âNope.â
âBut thatâs my present for you.â
âYour present to me is currently on my thighs and wonât disappear in half an hour.â He felt Sirius smile and nuzzle closer, then gentle pressure on his neck.
âWhat are you doing?â
âPayback.â Sirius rolled him onto his back and began speckling his neck and shoulders with small love bites, outlining his ribs with featherlight touches. Remus reached down and snapped the edge of his thigh high. âHey!â
He grinned. âCouldnât resist. Youâre going to keep these, right?â
âDuh.â Sirius wound their legs together and cuddled into Remusâ side. âMmm, you are so warm.â
Remus wrapped both arms around him and kissed the top of his head, closing his eyes. Naptime sounded good. Naptime, then dinner, then back to bed for more snuggles, or maybe something more. It was Valentineâs Day, after all.
-------------------------------
The Next Morning
The first thing Sirius saw when he woke up was gray. The second was Remusâ shocked face, followed by an âoh, fuckâ.
âWhatâs wrong?â he asked, propping himself on his elbows with a wince. His backside ached from yesterdayâs activities, and his thighs were still incredibly sensitiveâhe noted that the matching rings of hickeys had not diminished much overnight with a sense of satisfaction. Remus was staring down at his phone as rain drizzled softly outside.
Wait. Rain.
Silently, Remus passed him the phone. Sirius squinted at the screen, blinking the drowsiness out of his eyes, then froze.
Hello team,
Due to improved weather conditions and snow melt, practice today has been rescheduled for 4 pm. Thank you for your flexibility.
Best,
A. Weasley
âOh, fuck.â
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Folks, I wasnât really going to write a full-blown analysis about this entire scene - but it somehow turned into one when I started putting down a minor comment I was planning on making about xDÂ
But I couldnât help it, especially since I was hoping for something like this and the show delivered something even better...
First thereâs Ironwood. Heâs down and defeated, both physically and most likely mentally as well. Winter dragged him into the room in handcuffs, the modified version of his weapon on her back and maybe after she had thrown him into the cell she actually even helped him lie down once she had uncuffed him - who knows, either way she had locked him up now. She ended up having to lock him up and place a barrier between them.
So back to the beginning of the scene when we first get back to the cell room after the time stop, Winter is turned towards Ironwoodâs cell and she was looking at her scroll and Jauneâs broadcast.
Still what was she doing before that? Was she probably just looking at Ironwood, thinking about how things ended up the way they did?Â
I donât think thereâs any regret in her whatsoever, but maybe just a little sadness about what he has become, because at least at some point in her life he probably was the father she always wanted for herself - one that was nurturing her and listened to what she had to say.
So, we first see her turned towards Ironwood and a few seconds in the camera swings to the side and we see Jacques to Winterâs left. And so far Winter hasnât even acknowledged him in the slightest, she was looking at her scroll, most likely Ironwood before that and she wasnât even looking at him when she brought Ironwood in.Â
Mind you, Jacques is an asshole who got whatâs coming to him, but remember, he has no idea about anything that is happening right now and just for a split-second imagine what it must have been like for him to see Winter coming into the room where the cells are...And not only did she just come into the room - she was dragging in the very man he had once accused of âstealing her from himâ at the same time.
And it looks like, in a maybe desperate attempt to get to know about what was going on or maybe just to clutch at any last straw he thought he might have, he must have gotten up and walked to the edge of his cell. Still with how WInter was ignoring him he probably hadnât dared saying a word up until Jauneâs announcement.
And only then Winter barely looked at him to reply and she even turned around to leave halfway - the strongest reason for that most likely being the fact that she was completely unwilling to talk to him and even what reply she had given him felt constrained as if she was forcing herself to do it.Â
Still at this point it looks as if she was at least somewhat trying to at least relay what was necessary to him. But hereâs where this entire first shot and the positioning come to play.
Not only is there only some large distance between them, but the perspective this is shown from has the corner-projector of the cellâs wall between them and the pillar looks like a thick black line that separates Winter and Jacques. And Jacques is at the edge of the shot and occupying the lesser space of the two.
If we go full symbolic: that thick line that devides them will most likely never disappear and always be there. Jacques has messed up too badly for that to happened. He had ruined Winterâs entire youth and put her through too much shit. Winter was disinherited when she joined the military, if we do some math here it must have been when she was 21.Â
She entered Atlas Academy at the age of 17, had four years of training there and enlisted once she was done.Â
We can figure that she must have been already in the military for at least a year or two, since Weiss had been the heiress in her stead for enough time for word to spread around by then. (Blake already knew Weiss in V1), so make her maybe 23 in V3 and since two years have past since the Fall of Beacon she is right now 25 years-old.
So sheâs now 25 and for the first 21 years of her life she has suffered through his terror, we have seen some of his behavior through Weissâ experience, but I can imagine that while Jacques still had a tight grip on Winter, she was the one taking the brunt of his outbursts and punishments on Weissâ and Whitleyâs behalf to protect them for a much longer time by then. Part of Weissâ and Whitleyâs conversation when we first met Whitley in V4 also suggests that the two younger siblings were mostly together most of the time until Weiss first became the second heiress and later on left for Beacon.Â
Coming back to Winter that means that for the majority of her life Jacques was keeping her completely isolated, probably even from her siblings - Winterâs room was close enough for Willow to figure out how the Hound was closing in on Whitley in Jacquesâ office, when Weiss had to walk quite a distance from her room to the office in V4 and weâve seen Whitley had been dropping by Weissâ room often enough in V4 to maybe suggest that his room isnât too far from Weissâ.Â
Winter left Schnee Manor for the military completely on her own, never having had a team at the Academy that we know of, never having had any friends she spoke of or rather having been denied all of those thing from, guess who Jacques who was most likely keeping tabs on everything she did at Atlas Academy.Â
The first and only friend she had probably made only after freeing herself must have most likely been Penny. Penny who of her own had a special peculiar situation that set her apart from others.
And Weiss who had most likely noticed how Jacques was trying to keep in control of Winter even at the Academy, therefore left for Beacon, while officially coming up with some other excuse he wasnât smart enough to see through.
And while a 17-year-old Weiss, who had been the heiress since she was probably 15 only, had the chance to more freely meet people, make friends and properly heal. Winter didnât.Â
Or rather she might have healed to some extend and moved forward with her life, but she has huge scars that will always remain and never disappear and so she will never forgive Jacques for what she has been through because of him.
Still when Jacques tries to reach out in desperation and gets zapped by the barrier, Winter slowly stops and actually gives him an answer to his question, even though she still doesnât even look at him.
 So why did she still talk to him? Why did she go out of her way to tell him that they were going to come back for him (and Ironwood) once they were done saving everybody else? Because of Weiss.Â
Itâs only for a second but we clearly get to see Winterâs pain when Jacques thanks her and whatever he was trying to say afterwards to weasel himself into her good graces gets immediately shut down, when Winter turns around, directly looks at him for the first time and shuts him down with the truth.Â
She only looks at him because the one thing she wants him to actually understand is that she wasnât the one saving him. She makes sure that he clearly knows that she had nothing to do with it and that it was Weissâ decision to save his sorry ass. If it was up to her, Winter would just simply leave him to rot here and it was only at her younger sisterâs request that she didnât.
And after that Jacques knows it too. You can visibly see him simply shutting down right after and the moment he realizes it.
For the first time he might have actually become aware of how much irreparabel damage he had done to his first child (or all of his children in general).
This wasnât what he kept thinking of as Winter just running away and being unruly or Winter having been taken away from him by Ironwood. Jacques finally realized that Winter actually truly left because of him. Because he was fucking up.
And he realized that his life means nothing to her.
Actually absolutely nothing.
#rwby8#rwby winter schnee#winter schnee#rwby8 winter#rwby8 winter schnee#rwby jacques schnee#jacques schnee#james ironwood#rwby james ironwood#general james ironwood#rwby james#rwby ironwood#rwby general ironwood#rwby8 ironwood#rwby8 james ironwood#rwby jacques#rwby
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Some Thoughts on Tommyâs most recent stream (4/29)
(For the record, this isnât going to be like my other formal analyses. Iâm genuinely just ranting here, possibly unedited too. Iâm only referring to the characters, unless stated otherwise.
Also obvious warning, this will be fairly negative/critical of the DSMPâs writing, so scroll past if that might bother you. I tend to criticize the media I love, so this is just par for the course in my case.)
Letâs start off withâ
The Things I Liked
All of the comedy at the beginning of the stream was wonderful. Ghostbur was incredibly endearing and entertaining as usual, as well as the moments between bench trio. Tommyâs change of plans made sense and the entire journey through the prison was tense and fun to watch. As well as the moment Tommy got caught (it was inevitable.)Â
It goes without stating, but cc!Wilbur and cc!Tommyâs acting was wonderfulâthey knocked it out of the park. I liked the little moments of Tommy calming Ghostbur down as Sam screamed at him. I also loved Wilbur's speech about his time in the afterlife when bench trio found him.Â
As well as the moment with Wilbur admiring the sky and calling it âhis sunrise.â Iâm also glad that the afterlife was explained to be caused by the Revival Bookâs existence and not some general eternal torture every character will be sentenced to regardless of anything they did in life.Â
But, sadly, thatâs about where I stop and have to go into what I didnât like as much, which isâ
Everything Else
Iâll be talking about my major gripes with this particular stream in later bullet points down the line, but for now Iâll bring up the little things that annoyed me. This is all basically nit-picking and isnât as awful or badly written as some of the others Iâll be discussing later.Â
First off, Why is Ranboo There? In the stream before this one, Tommy had Tubbo promise to not tell anyone else about their plan. Did he just decide to tell Ranboo anyway? Why? What was the point of asking him to keep it secret if it didnât matter?Â
Adding to this, Tubbo and Ranboo were rather unnecessary for any of the other scenes that took place. They didnât have any meaningful conversations with Tommy besides Ranboo asking why he was dreading Wilburâs revival so much, as well as Wilburâs comments to Tubbo about him being president. But other than that they have little to no notable speaking lines.Â
They donât Do Anything? Sure, theyâre nice to have present so Tommy can vent to someone else and find comfort but, in the end, Ranboo was oddly angry and accusatory with Tommy and Tubbo was practically absent from the scene. The impression I got from Tommy and Tubboâs conversation in the previous stream implied that Tubbo would be serving a larger role as a distraction, but I guess they changed gears or something?Â
Then we have Ghostburâs involvement, which, yeah, makes sense. Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo are not allowed inside the prison, so itâs best to find someone else who can get in without suspicion. But my first assumption, upon seeing Ghostbur with the group was, âOh, heâs gonna go in there and Dreamâs gonna use him to revive Wilbur. Thatâs the only reason why Ghostbur is here and not anyone else, who would also be willing to kill Dream. Itâs not like theyâre in short supply right now.â
And I ended up being right, which only frustrated me more. I wanted something unexpected. Something new. Something interesting. Yet, I got the most predictable outcome insteadâTommy fails, Wilbur is revived.Â
Next, we have another big serving of âTommy gets blamed for things he has no control overâ part 241. I am so, so sick of characters getting unreasonably mad at and blaming Tommy for anything and everything. Itâs not new, itâs not interesting, itâs not fun. Itâs just miserable.Â
It is,, awful. And itâs highkey frustrating. I refuse to sit through another arc of Tommy being endlessly hurt and blamed for stuff he didnât do or cannot control. Pick a new event in the plot.Â
Try something out of left field. Do something, anything different to this. Iâm begging you.Â
Now, we get into the major writing pitfalls and shortcomings. Starting withâ
We Need to Talk About Sam
I have no idea what is going on with Samâs character right now. It is so genuinely confusing. I have no clue why Sam reacted the way he did to Tommy because it just doesnât make any sense. Samâs entire inner conflict is about him trying to cultivate and protect his humanity and morality while upkeeping a strict, closed-off demeanor.
He follows the rules, even if it hurts the people he loves. Even if these codes force him into a position to be unethical. He feels it is his responsibility should anything go wrong or if Dream escapes, because it puts others in danger.
His strict approach got Tommy killed, and it also took a life and an arm from Ponk. Both of these people are precious to him. So why on earth would he threaten to kill Tommy when, in their last interaction, he was glad he was aliveâafter he promised to never let something like that happen again?
He respected Tommyâs wishes to stay away from him, and rather politely too. Why would he then threaten to kill him just after weeks of saying Tommyâs death was his biggest regret? Thatâs not even touching on Sam saying, âThis is why I let you die,â as well as blaming Tommy for something that was directly a result of his own refusal to act.
Why didnât he have Ghostbur also hitch a ride on the same platform with Tommy? Why did he even let Ghostbur into the prison in the first place if he:
A.) Told Ranboo he wasnât going to let anyone in there after what happened to Tommy.
B.) Also wouldnât let people in lest they find out about Quackityâs plan.
C.) Couldnât even kill Ghostbur because heâs incorporeal and thus cannot fully upkeep the contracts he is signing.
Thereâs also the issue of Sam breaking the rules he abides by when he decided to not kill Tommy after he snuck into the prison, despite it being in the contract. Why is it different now? He went against his own protocol but was also following it by refusing to let Ghostbur come back to the other platform?
Why does Sam refuse to listen to Tommy? Their argument is mind-numbingly ridiculous. Sam refuses to hurt Dream, despite him only being alive because Sam claimed Tommy wanted him alive.
But now Tommy is there, begging Sam to let him kill Dream, and Sam just goes, âNo. Weâre not killing Dream.â Fucking why??? Sam! You said you wanted to kill Dream at least four times by now! Maybe more!
You were on your way to do it with Quackity and the only thing that stopped you was your promise to Tommy. But now Tommyâs here, telling you to kill Dream and you fucking wonât???? I am absolutely baffled.
No matter how you spin it, it makes no fucking sense. However, if I tried,,, I could possibly come up with a reason or two. Maybe Dream is blackmailing him. Maybe Quackity is forcing him to keep Dream alive until he can get the info he needs (even though,,, why would he trust Quackity over Tommy, who heâs outwardly stated he trusts just as much, if not more?)
It feels like these plots are dancing around each other, trying to keep up this faux sense of conflict that doesnât exist. But, hereâs the thing, contrived conflict is never compelling. I canât overstate it enough.
Dreamâs Plan is Complete Nonsense
The method to revive Wilbur makes Dream seem even more short-sighted than I remember commenting on, during the stream where Tommy was brought back to life. He told Tommy that his plan was to test the book to see if it worked (which, okay fine, I can buy this.) But then he says all along he was planning to revive Wilbur in order to break out of prison, which is ???? This is baffling if he needed Ghostbur in order to pull this off.Â
Which,,, I canât even begin to explain how ridiculous it is that Dreamâs entire plan hitched on not only the book working on people to begin with (which he tested on Tommy,,, for some reason, even though he wouldâve lost his âfavorite toyâ if he fucked it up. Which,, why even take that chance in the first place? there are other visitors he couldâve tried this with, surely. Like Sapnap and Bad,,) and it also relied on Ghostbur voluntarily going into the prison just to visit Dream?? And if he didnât need Ghostbur after all, then why didnât he bring Wilbur back weeks ago?Â
Thatâs not even getting into the issue of Dream assuming that Wilbur, once brought back, would:Â
A.) Want to be alive in the first place.
B.) Actually be willing to help Dream, instead of telling him to fuck off.
C.) Be even slightly capable of helping him at all when he has no allies, no PVP skill, no weapons, no armor, and no knowledge of the prison or its innerworkings.Â
Why are the current DSMP writers so committed to making me think Dream is a fucking idiot? I donât enjoy this. I used to like his character and think he was smart. Stop.Â
ALSO, why did Tommy or Tubbo or Ranboo not think of the possibility that Ghostbur could very well be necessary to revive Wilbur? Why did that not cross any of their minds? It was the first thing I thought of when I saw him.
Another big thing that irks me is Tommy and Sam saying they saw Dream physically holding the Revival Book, which,,, how? Why? Dream said in previous streams that he burned the book and that was entirely the thing that kept him from being killed outright. If there was a book still in existence, did he hide it somehow?Â
How did Quackity not find it? Why did Sam not take it from him when he was first arrested?? What?Â
Also how the fuck did Dream kill a ghost?? Theyâre incorporeal? How does he not need the body to perform necromancy? That seems almost redundant.Â
Also it took a matter of seconds to perform? It took,,, ?? nothing but words and sheer willpower to bring someone back to life? Why does it seem so easy? My mans just,, uses his vibes to bring people back from the dead???Â
Unless the book has instructions regarding that or has a proportional price in order to use, then Iâd be more forgiving. But Iâm guessing it doesnât have too steep a cost if Dream could offer Tommy immortality despite that. But Iâm sure weâll get more information on this once Quackity (inevitably) gets his hands on the book. HopefullyâŠÂ
Which brings me to my last pointâ
Wilburâs Revival (Derogatory)
Since the Revival Book was introduced, I have been actively dreading Wilbur being revived. It is the most predictable, low-hanging fruit of a plotline I could possibly conceive of. I understand that heâs a fan-favorite with a large audience (I love Wilbur more than youâd expect. cc!Wilbur is actually the reason I got into the DSMP in the first place), but there are other characters who could be developed moreâutilized more.Â
Unpopular opinion, I know, but I am just so incredibly unenthused about this plot development. In fact, Iâd almost go so far as to say hate it.Â
The Revival Book in and of itself is my least favorite thing the DSMP has ever introduced. It is a lack of consequences simplified. Itâs also a lack of commitment to those mortal consequences.Â
It is a âget out of jail freeâ card for when they kill off a character and donât want to deal with the hole that character will leave behind. Or a way to work around the reason they shouldnât kill Dream on the spot.Â
With Wilbur back again, I no longer feel compelled by his arc the way I used to. There is nothing to really leave a lasting impact anymore. Of course, there was a cater where LâManburg once stood, but that was dug even deeper later on. You canât make the death of a friend, of a loved one, worse than it is. It is death.Â
The thing I found extremely interesting about Wilburâs death is the way the other characters portrayed loss. It has consistently been the thing that was most comforting to me, oddly enough. When people die, there will always be loose ends.Â
There will be holes left behind and things left unsaid. An unfulfilled promise. A forgotten relationship. A hollow memory.
What I always found compelling was the way Tommy and Fundy and Niki took this mutual loss and had to live with it. How they had to come to terms with the fact that Wilbur was gone and he wasnât coming back. That they had to make peace with his memory, his legacy, and their connection to him.Â
That theyâd miss him and love him or hate him and try to forget him. It is a tragedy that someone like Wilbur wanted to die for so long, and in the end, he did. Because in reality, the people you love will die.Â
There may be someone in your life that leaves you behind and all youâre left with is the broken pieces. And it is how these characters move on that brings me bittersweet company as someone whoâs lost a lot of people. There is nothing more irritating than a story going back on its establishmentsâto have their cake and eat it too.Â
All I want is the bare minimumâa story with narrative stakes and consequences.
The only way I could ever see myself enjoying this plot development is if Wilbur has a redemption arc and attempts to make amends with Tommy, Fundy, Niki, and Eret. OR if he aids in Dreamâs downfall in some way and enjoys the simple realities of life and wants to live for the sake of living. Iâd find that at least new and somewhat interesting.Â
But if heâs just here to be a moustache toiling villain (or somehow worse than after his previous downward spiral), when the market is already so deeply oversaturated with antagonists, then I will probably drop the series altogether.Â
Hopefully it doesnât come to that because I love the Dream SMP and I want to keep loving it for as long as I can.Â
I will hold onto more reasons to stay, so long as they keep giving them to me.
#dream smp#dsmp#wilbur soot#tommyinnit#awesamdude#dreamwastaken#c!wilbur#c!tommy#c!sam#c!dream#ghostbur#c!sam critical#dsmp critical#dream smp critical#negative#long post#dsmp rant#this is so long#also I promise most of this is /lh#if I was ever actually frustrated with the DSMP#I wouldn't make an essay about it lol#tw suicide#tw death mention
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Captain Bucheon 04
Warnings:Â language, suggestive
Word count: 4.6K
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tags: @wooya1224 @to-all-the-stories-i-love @jennxx3 @realllllrica (let me know if you want to be un/tagged)â
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Fourth: Painful memories
Baekhyun seemed like a distant dream when you awoke the next day. Everything that happened, starting with your obliviousness to his presence at the field all the way to the moment you slapped him and poured your emotions out; they all felt like they never happened.Â
It was your throat, raw and sore from screaming, that indicated last night happened. You woke up tired, feeling your nose clogged and head heavy. As if constantly haunting you, behind closed eyes you saw his; they were looking at you, troubled and wavering. Baekhyun was at your mercy last night. And you were merciless.
One of the painful memories was exceptionally difficult to erase from your mind. Baekhyun's words, that he uttered one year ago in his office, were haunting you and making you believe that things could have been different if you were not lying to him.
I would have waited for you.
Those words were running around in front of your eyes, each word snaking itself in confusing circles creating slight dizziness. Would he have really waited, though?
Groaning, you turned to your other side spotting Yuyeonâs sleeping figure. She wasnât in the room when you arrived last night, enabling you to cry to your heart's content, which you did. You cried yourself to sleep and now, here was the result. Swollen eyes, headache and a sore throat.
Your phone that was safely tucked under your pillow gave a short vibration, indicating a message. You were waiting for it; it was the last working day after all. Weekend was coming up and you couldnât wait to get the necessary free time to do your school work and recover from shouting at Byun Baekhyun.
You checked the text message and you planned your day ahead accordingly.
Unknown number
Parcel delivery for the weekend by Sunday 23:30. Bucheon Christian University main gateâs security house.
You frowned, mulling over the destination. Until now, it was always an apartment building and, with the new found information that the messages could have possible secondary destinations encoded, you grew a little uneasy. If issues occurred, would there be another option to deliver the parcel to?
><
There was a hustle going on in Baekhyunâs department that day. Several robberies, crimes and attacks and every officer was preoccupied with suffering victims begging for help and justice.
He also had a couple of cases to deal with, yet he kept zoning out. He barely got a wink of sleep and now he needed to be at his best when he would have much rather stayed home and let himself think through stuff. Not that he didnât have a whole year to think.
âKnock knock, coffee delivery!âÂ
Park Chanyeol, the number one detective and also Baekhyunâs close friend, walked in, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. âWhatâs up Captain?â
âThanks,â murmured Baekhyun when Chanyeol handed him the mug. âAny news on the case?â he asked, ignoring his friendâs question completely.
Chanyeol crashed on the chair opposite him with a sigh. âNope,â he replied. âNo solid updates. No leads. The attack was sudden and we canât seem to find a trace of the target.â
Baekhyun sighed. âTwo young women have been attacked so far. They were in their mid-twenties.â
âActually, both of them were in their final year of university,â added Chanyeol with a serious tone.
âThat could be a solid lead,â murmured Baekhyun even though his mind was wandering off again. He was quick to zone out on his friend who continued describing the crime scenes, thinking out loud but Baekhyun was already on a completely different page.
You were just seventeen⊠and he was so heartless. He could vividly remember the actual happenings in his office. He was sitting just where he was seated now, behind his big table full of paperwork and computer while you were becoming smaller and smaller under his smoldering gaze.Â
Baekhyun was extremely mad that day. He couldnât remember the last time he was that mad. Not even the forever annoying Siamsa could annoy him to those bits and he was slowly realizing that it must have been because he liked you much more than he had let himself believe. You betraying his trust, seeing him as a fool and doing stupid stuff behind his back were the exact things he despised in humans. Yet, you did all of them. And one year later, here he was, with you on his mind.
He cringed inwardly when he remembered the harsh words he told you.
You were stupid enough to get caught.
You can be goddamn sure I wouldnât talk to a KID.
It was a grave mistake to talk to you.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, not even catching Chanyeol abruptly stopping his talk. Baekhyun was way too brutal with you. He groaned out loud when he remembered another horrible thing he said. Iâm breaking up with you if it wasnât obvious enough. Plus, Iâm arresting youâŠ
âAre you okay? You really seem out of it today.â Chanyeol seemed concerned and even a little perplexed as Baekhyun rarely showed this kind of behavior in front him, let alone showing it at his workplace. In the office, Baekhyun was the one to be scared of, to be respected and bowed to. This Baekhyun seemed like if Chanyeol pushed him with his finger, he'd crumble.
âI'm fine,â muttered back the captain with a throaty voice.
Chanyeol pursed his lips, unsure how to ask what had been on his mind since he entered the office. Instead of wanting to deal with a serious talk, a cheeky glint lit up in his eyes. âPerhaps you met her again?â
âHer?â Baekhyun frowned with a down-ward tilt on his lips.
Chanyeol wiggled his eyebrows as he stretched on the chair. âYou know who!â he took a breath and with his deep voice, started to sing:
She looked incredible Just turned 17 I guess my friends are right She's out of my league So what am I to do? She's too good to be true
Baekhyun couldn't help himself when he heard the lyrics his friend correlated with you. They couldn't have been more accurate and despite him being in a bad mood, the idea made him laugh under his nose as he looked on the floor. âActually, I did. And I got slapped,â he revealed somehow proudly as he let himself sit on his chair, enjoying the astonished look on Chanyeol's face.
âNo way!â he straightened up in his seat, leaning forward so he could get a better look at his friend. âShe slapped you? Damn, this girl is feisty. She keeps beating up our captain!â he laughed out loud, consumed by the images of you, the young woman in her late teenage years, slapping someone of Baekhyun's calibre.
âYeah, well, she's always been fearless.â he shrugged, frowning out of a sudden. âI screwed that girl up pretty badly, Chan, but that's no news.â
Chanyeol went quiet for a minute, fully aware of Baekhyun's emotions and the way the past events had been eating him up. âHow is she doing these days?â
Baekhyun shrugged. âI guess well? She's lost some weight, but,â he sighed and proceeded to talk about the event that he witnessed with the boys sexually harassing you.
âThe kids these days can't keep it in their pants,â cackled Chanyeol in disbelief but Baekhyun was far from entertained. His jaw was locked, the skin pulsing with tension at the mere idea of last night.
âIf they ever as much as think about her I swear to god-â
âWhoa, hold on, Baek. You know you can't just get involved.â
âWhat do you mean I can't just get involved? They were harassing her, and I'm a cop.â
âI think your rage is more fueled because it's about Nari. As much as you seek justice, you shouldn't let your emotions take the better out of you. Besides, people might get suspicious-â
âChanyeol, what the fuck?â snapped Baekhyun angrily. âIf she were any woman I'd do the same.â
âYou would not punch in order to protect just any woman.â
âYes, I would-â
âNo, you would do the smart talk and intimidate them with your power and authority. But you punched the kid, Baek.â
Baekhyun sighed in agitation, his hand coming yet again up to his face, tiredly rubbing at the skin. âSo what should I have done? I myself am confused about my emotions but I know I care about her a lot.â
âOf course you care about her. You drank straight up one month after she found out about your fake boyfriend identity and you broke up.â
Baekhyun rolled his eyes, hating the way Chanyeol was so blunt with his words. âEither way, she still hates me.â
âWould you fight for her if she ever gave you a chance?â asked Chanyeol quietly, his fingers nipping at his lower lip in thought.
Baekhyun opened his mouth, ready to answer way too quickly before he stopped himself. He was frozen when he realized the answer that so naturally came to him. Would he fight for you if you ever decided to build the bridges again? He definitely would have one year ago when he came to your high school to see you.
âYou're hesitating,â stated Chanyeol and pursed his lips. âI think you're scared, too, captain.â
Baekhyun scoffed but Chanyeol cut him off: âYou would hate losing her again. And she is a fragile kid, scarred by everything that happened to her. She could be even more vulnerable with you. Remember that.â
><
âWhere are you going?â asked Yuyeon, confused, when you were putting on your black jeans and a black hoodie. The helmet for the scooter was already tucked under your arm, ready to leave for the Saturday night. Time was ticking in your brain and you grew quite anxious about possible bad outcomes of this delivery if you wouldn't leave right away.
âWork,â you shrugged, âwill get this done and then I will be free,â you smiled, a little strained but Yuyeon only gave you a suspicious side glance.
âYou never work on the weekends! This employer is already playing with you and telling you to work even when it's not your official hours,â she frowned deeply, looking like a sulking child.
You sighed and suppressed the need to roll your eyes. âOkay, mum, I'll be back in time, no worries.â
âYou better be! I won't fuss about wanting to go to a club when you're oh so busy.â
âI promise we can go next Friday!â you shouted, opening the door to put on your shoes.
She grumbled in response and you laughed to yourself, slamming the doors behind you when you slid your feet into your boots. Making sure they were tied well, you rushed out into the chilly evening, making your way to the mini-scooter Chul borrowed you so you could get the job done easier.
Bucheon Christian University was a little further away from your campus, so you made sure you followed the map carefully once you got the box from the apartment you usually got it from. The apartment itself was a high-rise, family friendly building and, just like the previous times, this box was also very light in your arms despite it being a little bigger. You had a spare rope under the seat of the scooter, so you tied it securely so it wouldn't fall when you had it between your feet.
As you were reaching the destination, you realized your palms were becoming more sweaty. Your heartbeat, usually quiet, was now gently beating in your ears, letting you know the stress levels were rising.
âYou arrived at your destination,â said the GPS when you passed a big entrance that was leading into a small campus with white buildings that seemed too out of the place. Wanting to get the job done quickly, you searched with eager eyes for a little building that would be the security office, getting off the scooter and untying the delivery.
Seeing a box-like metal security office for the car park barrier you swallowed harshly, walking up to it. There were no signs of life inside, the lights out and the barriers probably working on auto mode. For other people, it must have looked ridiculous - you walking with a bigger box towards the security office but you could only hope no one would see your face which was the reason why you were reluctant to take the helmet off.
You were walking up to what you deemed the correct destination, but you couldn't help the uneasy feeling. There is no need, you insisted in your mind, because this was the correct destination. You would put the box down in front of the doors and just leave. Yes. That was correct.
Despite your weak reassurances, you kept looking around making sure you werenât missing another spot. Your heartbeat was still gently pumping in your ears, reminding you that this was a little more stressful than the previous outings.
As you reached the doors to the security office, you put the box down more to the side as the doors were directly in front of the road for the cars. Feeling the relief of accomplishing another day of delivery, you turned around and started walking back towards the scooter, the tension slowly but surely easing up. You looked back several times to make sure the box was still there and with that you sat on the scooter and rode away, excited that you didnât miss out on the night just yet.
If Yuyeon would be up for fun, you could finally go and be reckless!
><
Baekhyun was about to turn off the lights and call it a night at 9pm when a loud set of knocks disturbed his peace. Thinking it was his friends who wanted to give him a surprise visit, he swiftly opened the door only to be surprised when he spotted a ball of pink.
âThe hell are you doing here?â he snapped, not moving to let the uninvited guest in.
Siamsa, or, to Baekhyun, Sooah, rolled her eyes as she stepped closer. âWell, hi to you, handsome. Iâll tell you if you let me in.â
âWell, I donât want to know,â he replied in an even voice. âSo that makes it easier. Bye-â
âWait!â she exclaimed quickly and made a step in, wanting to prevent him from slamming the door shut in her face. âItâs about your ex.â
He didnât want to admit it; but his heart jumped at the mention of you. Sooah never cared enough about Baekhyunâs other exes before her. Unfortunately for you, you came after her and Siamsa, the kpop sensation, was not processing it well. âIf youâre gonna talk bullshit, Iâll spare myself the time-â
âIf you want to protect her, you should listen,â she sing-sang nonchalantly, playing with the ends of her long hair. It was dyed blond and made her seem innocent which she was far from.
âAnd how would you know whatâs up with Nari? Youâve already done so much shit in the past! What makes you think Iâll believe you?â
Sooah shrugged, pretending to be unbothered. âWell, I care about your well-being, Baekhyun. I know you care about her. I know the break-up was brutal. You locked up her brother-â
Baekhyun was fast to grab her by her wrist and yank her inside, quickly kicking the door shut. Sooah had a satisfied smirk on her face when she took in his distressed expression. âHow. Do. You. Know. That.â
âMhmm, so hot,â she whispered with a wink, mocking him. âI always liked how manly you are, my little one-â
âListen,â he cut her off angrily, the nickname making him shudder inwardly, âI donât care about your fucking games. Iâm way past you and all your stupid shit. But I swear to god, if you do something to Nari-â
âYou seem to have luck on girls who do stupid shit,â she mimicked him as she stood closer, making sure her breath fanned his chin. âNari seems to go from one trouble to another. One day she might as well end up like her brother,â she laughed to herself.
âHow do you know about her brother?â he asked again in a low tone, trying hard to ignore the anger he felt whenever she mentioned you.
Sooah pulled a fake thinking face, tapping her slender finger with perfect nail art on her chin. âFor starters, donât underestimate my honesty, Baekhyun. I know more than you think. I really care about you, you know,â she mumbled the last sentence and dared to reach up with her hand, touching his cheek gently. âMe messing up by protecting my identity - you were too harsh with me back then, sweetie.â
Baekhyun sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them and moving his face away from her touch. She was bringing up the past and he didnât like it; he didnât want to dive in it. Sooah was a great manipulator and he didnât want to fall down the guilt rabbit hole when he knew he did the right thing in the past. âWe are done with that talk.â
âI was never done with that talk,â she was fast to protest. âYou were. I still want you.â When she moved to stand closer to him, Baekhyun quickly stood back and away from her. âBaekhyun!â
âTell me what you know about Lee Nari and then leave!â
âI want something in return,â she rebutted quickly, even confidently, but the desperation on her face was speaking volumes. âAnd Iâll tell you all I know.â
He grit his jaw, hard. âI swear to god, Sooah, stop testing me-â
âItâs noona for you,â she murmured with a sharp gaze that kept flickering over his features. He always looked good, but judging from his outfit, she knew he was preparing to sleep. That hoodie would soon be taken off and those plaid pants too. Her mind swirled just at the thought of it.
âWe are done with that tooââ
âYou canât fight the age difference, baby,â she purred and stepped closer. She enjoyed seeing his internal conflict. Despite being a harsh captain, she knew which buttons to push for him to submit, although she didnât like that it involved you. She hated that the only way she could talk to Baekhyun was if she mentioned your name.
Baekhyun sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. âOk. Speak. Otherwise Iâm throwing you out.â
Sooah burst out into laughter, quickly hiding her laminated teeth and scrunched up nose behind her hand. âYou manhandling me wouldnât be the first time, Captain,â she said in a low, sensual tone as she trailed her long fingernail over his chest. She could have sworn it was more toned than the last time she had the pleasure of touching it. âAnd you know how much I like it.â When she saw him closing his eyes in exasperation, she trailed the finger upwards to his prominent collarbones before she took the side of his neck in her palm, running her thumb over the pulse point. âGod, I miss you so much. Like, so, so much, my sweetie.â She knew she was testing the limits. She also knew an angry Baekhyun was anything but good news. She refused to spare him, though. âYour girlfriend is a bad girl. Sheâll easily become a criminal if she continues doing the bad stuff.â
Baekhyun snapped his eyes open. âIs she up to something these days?â he asked almost breathily.
Her fingers traveled to the nape of his neck and she buried them in the hair, lightly scratching at the skin. Baekhyun was fighting the shuddering feeling, hoping his body wouldnât betray him.
âOh, yes. When isnât she up to something,â she mumbled thoughtfully, her hawk eyes taking note of Baekhyunâs slight blush. He was getting affected with her ministrations and she stepped closer to him. He didnât move away.
âWhat is it?â he hummed when her other hand massages his chest in small circles. âWhat is it that she is doing?â
Sooah had a mischievous glint in her eyes as she bit her bottom lip in triumph. âGive me a kiss and Iâll tell you-â
âNo games!â snapped Baekhyun angrily, his eyes stormy as he glared at her.
âThen you wonât find out!â
âSooah!â
âJust a magic word and a little kiss is all I want, sweetie,â she whispered, enjoying his intent stare on her. âI promise thatâs all I will want and you get to access all you need to know.â
âNo,â he shook his head resolutely. âI donât care.â
âYou care so fucking much about her,â it was her turn to spit now, gradually getting infuriated with his reluctance to submit to her. âOr do you want me to, perhapsâŠâ she trailed off, puckering her lips, feigning thinking, âtell everyone in her school you dated her as an underaged kid?â
That was it for Baekhyun. Something snapped within him and he made a threatening step towards his ex, who didnât even budge at his abruptness. âI dare you to say a single word that would harm her reputation, Sooah. I dare you to. She already went through so much shit because of me and her family.â
Sooah was smirking as she watched the captain's troubled, but hard face. It hurt her, but she wasnât the most emotionally literate person; she was selfish and sometimes enjoyed suffering of others. That was how a very bad product of the entertainment industry looked like. Whether she would admit it was questionable. Sooah would never give Baekhyun up when her emotions for him were so deep, when the man was desirable so much. It was always a given that he was a one of a kind man and she always wanted everything that was one of a kind.
âWhat a good man you are, Byun Baekhyun,â she hummed, her eyes focused on his lips. âCaring about a child so much. A child who lied to you from the very first start.â
âWhatever the hell you are trying to do here, leave it,â gritted Baekhyun eventually. âAnd tell me what she is up to.â
âI already told you whatâs the price!â she whined, making Baekhyun frown. âA kiss. On the lips.â With her finger, she tapped her lower lip, excitement cursing through her when she saw Baekhyun eyeing her mouth. âAnd then the secrets are all yours.â
It was tempting; not the kiss, but the reward. Baekhyunâs mind was racing with possibilities, with outcomes. Then he became worried. He knew how twisted Sooah could be, and were she to talk in front of your school about your relationship, youâd most probably never forgive him for letting it happen and he himself would be in huge trouble. Maybe that thought was even stronger than his need to know whether you were in trouble or not.
To make Baekhyunâs pondering a little easier, Sooah boldly pressed her palm against his toned stomach, the muscles instantly flexing upon her intrusive touch. Sooah knew Baekhyun was a very sensitive man; a single tingle on his neck could turn him on, the lightest of scratches could make him stand up proud. She knew he had to be affected by her minimal ministrations. She knew him perfectly. Touching up the ridges around the muscles, she let her hand slide lower to his abdomen before reaching to cup hisâ
Baekhyun slapped her hand away with a growl and pressed her against the door. âOne fucking kiss and youâll spill everything,â he breathed. She couldnât even react before he pressed his lips harshly against hers, the texture of her lip gloss attaching to his lips. Sooah groaned, arms instantly hugging his neck. Her long finger nails scratched his nape and Baekhyunâs will was becoming weaker.Â
The familiar scent of her strong, sweet perfume wafted over his senses, reminding him that this was not the woman he cared about anymore. Her eager tongue pushed his lips apart and was fast to battle with his own. The way she kissed him was nothing but desperate, needy, a call for attention. He hated it. The last time he kissed a womanâ a girl was a year ago and her lips were the sweetest thing heâd ever tasted. Despite her being brave with him, her kisses were shy, careful, kitten-like and Baekhyun accidentally groaned at the thought of that.Â
He pressed his lips harsher against this womanâs while imaging an innocent girl behind his eyelids. His hands were pressed against the door but he wanted to touch so bad. He only got to touch her once and not the way he would have liked, and now he had to fight the urge to let his hands slide around the curves, to outline her behind while her chest would be pressed against his.
He was quickly reminded that the body pressing against him was indeed not Lee Nari. Sooah had a slim physique with a flat chest and a big space between her thighs. He loved it once, but not anymore.
Before Sooah could cup his private part again he broke the kiss, desperately needing some air and needing to snap out of his deep fantasy. Blinking several times, he got to see the face that went through so many changes with plastic surgery and when she smiled at him with swollen lips, he realized how unreal this woman was. Unreal and unfaithful.
âWhat is Lee Nari doing ?â he breathed, the question coming out in a low murmur, his lips visibly swollen.
The spark that was in Sooahâs eyes left, quickly interchanged with hate and betrayal. âIs this what you ask me right after you kissed me?â she shrieked, causing Baekhyun to flinch. âYou just had your tongue in my mouth and you dare to say a little girlâs name afterwards?â
Sooah wasn't wrong about you being a little girl. She was older by fourteen years after all; she saw you as a complete kid. Which made Sooah feel even more devastated and enraged; Baekhyun dated someone so incredibly young, half of her age. It made her feel like she couldn't compare.
âIâm not going to ask you any more. You got what you wanted. Get out of my flat if you donât do anything useful,â replied Baekhuyn with a hard glare.
âShe is delivering drugs,â snapped Sooah and Baekhyun was shocked to find tears in her eyes as she spoke. âThatâs who she is now, Baekhyun. She is delivering illegal stuff on a scooter and she doesnât even have a driving license.â
It felt like someone poured a scorching hot water over him. You and drugs? And you didnât have a driving license while driving a vehicle? So many thoughts raced through his mind, so many questions left unanswered. What the hell were you up to? âAnd you know this how?â
Sooah shrugged. âNone of your damn business.â
âIt is if it involves Nari.â
Sooah scoffed mockingly. âThen sleep with me.â
âYou need help, Sooah,â replied Baekhyun somehow compassionately after a moment of silence. Taking the singerâs arm in his, he turned her and opened the door so he could push her out to the corridor. âAnd immediately. Youâre sick in your head. Treat your obsession and then we can still be friends maybe.â
âYouâre a heartless bastard, Baekhyun,â whispered Sooah, not turning around. âYou better watch out for the university festival. Your girlfriend will be my puppet.â
She started walking with purposeful steps towards the elevator, not looking back and not noticing the way Baekhyunâs face fell with dread.
But the girl had been hurt enough.
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A/N: thank you for reading! I had lots of fun with this chapter! Let me know your thoughts, there is so much happening over here >.<
Lyrics credit: McFly - That Girl
#exowritersnet#baekhyun#baekhyun fanfiction#baekhyun angst#baekhyun romance#baekhyun au#baekhyun policeman#baekhyun smut#exo smut#exo angst#exo fluff#CB#mywritings
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Late Nights
pairing: wolfstar (sirius x remus)
genre: fluff
warnings: hints at sex
words: 2015
summary: sleeping in the same bed as sirius has always seemed natural to remus, helping each other out with nightmares like friends do. But this year something has changed for Remus and it makes the current sleeping situation both unbearable and necessary for Remusâ continued existence.
note: inspired by the song âSleepoverâ by Hayley Kiyoko (i know this is a very popular headcanon but i never thought of writing it until i heard this song and decided that i absolutely have to)
Remus was nearly asleep. Nearly but not quite. He could feel Siriusâ arm pressed against his, their hands just barely touching. That alone was enough to keep Remus awake. But Sirius was fast asleep, not bothered at all by the fact that Remus was lying right beside him. Of course heâs not bothered, Remus thought, why should he be? Weâve been sharing a bed for years.
Remus still remembers the first time he and Sirius slept in the same bed. Remus had woken up shaking from his usual nightmare: when he had been bitten by Fenrir Greyback when he was five years old. He had gone to get a cup of tea from the common room, to try and calm down. When he came back upstairs, he heard a stifled sob coming from the direction of Siriusâ bed.
âSirius?â Remus whispered. Sirius whipped around in his bed to look at Remus. Remus couldnât quite see in the dark but he was sure that Siriusâ cheeks were tear-stained.
âYeah?â Sirius said. If Remus hadnât been an expert at pretending that youâre not crying when you are, he wouldnât have been able to hear the tremble in Siriusâ voice.
âAre you ok?â he asked.
âYeah, Iâm fine.â Remus knew that Sirius was lying. He had given that response himself countless times and not once had he been telling the truth.
âDid you have a nightmare?â Remus asked.
âItâs no big deal,â Sirius said, but Remus could hear his voice shaking.
Remus grabbed a cup from the table in the room, poured half of his tea into it and brought the cup to Sirius, who sat up in his bed.
âThanks,â Sirius said after Remus had handed him the tea. âYou can sit down if you like,â he added, gesturing to his bed. Remus did. Then he cast a silencing charm over the bed.
âWhat was that spell?â Sirius asked, still whispering.
âSilencing charm,â Remus replied.
âHow do you know how to do those?â Sirius asked in awe. Remus shrugged.
âItâs a useful spell,â he said. They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking their tea.
âI woke up from a nightmare too,â Remus said, eventually. He hadnât wanted to share this; he hadnât been planning on telling anybody. But he wanted to help Sirius. And this seemed like the best way to do that.
âAre you ok?â Sirius asked him.
âYeah,â Remus said. âYou?â Sirius nodded.
âDo you wantâŠâ Sirius started, ânever mind.â
âWhat?â Remus asked.
âNah, itâs stupid.â
âWhat is it?â
âItâs justâŠâ Sirius started hesitantly. âBack home, whenever my brother, Reg, or I had a nightmare, we would sleep in the same bed to help us feel better. So I wanted to ask if you wanted to try that. Itâs stupid, I know.â
âItâs not stupid,â Remus said. âItâs actually really smart. I wish I had a brother that I could do that with.â Sirius looked surprised for a minute before he spoke.
âWell, now you have me,â he said. Remus smiled at him. So they crawled into the same bed and fell asleep to the sound of the otherâs breaths evening out as they drifted off.
But something had changed this year. The sound of Siriusâ deep, sleepy breaths no longer rocked Remus to sleep; it kept him awake. Suddenly, Remus found himself unable to sleep at night, his heart thumping in his ears, his breath catching every time Siriusâ bare skin brushed against his under the sheets. Remus had gone and fucked things up. Heâd fallen in love with Sirius. And now Remus was afraid to cross a boundary. Everything he did seemed wrong. Remus didnât want to make Sirius uncomfortable. One wrong move and Sirius might decide that this sleeping arrangement didnât work for him anymore, that he didnât need Remus anymore. Remus didnât think he could bear that. He didnât know which would be worse: being this close to Sirius but not being allowed to touch him, to kiss him or pining for Sirius from far away, starved of any contact at all. Well, not at all. He supposed that he could still hug Sirius. He hugged James sometimes, after all. But how many excuses to hug Sirius could he possibly have? Not enough. Not nearly enough.
Remus didnât want to lose these moments with Sirius. He didnât want to lose the brief contact of their hands and legs beneath the blanket but it was becoming increasingly harder to just leave it at that, to restrain from making the fleeting moment turn into something more, something that could satisfy Remusâ thirst.
Suddenly, Remus feels Sirius turning over in his sleep. Remus doesnât open his eyes. Sometimes, heâll watch Sirius sleep, just for a little while. Staring at Sirius while heâs asleep is far easier and far less frightening than staring at him during the day when he could look over and catch Remus at any moment. So Remus made the most of it. But he didnât feel like torturing himself tonight so he keeps trying to sleep. But then Sirius speaks.
âYouâre my best friend,â Sirius whispers. âMy soulmate.â Remusâ heart skips several beats. Is Sirius talking to⊠him? He opens his eyes and finds Sirius looking right at him.
âAnd youâre mine,â Remus whispers back. And then Sirius honest-to-god falls out of the bed. âHoly fuck, Sirius, are you ok?â Remus asks, concerned but also trying to contain his laughter.
âRemus,â Sirius says, standing up. âI thought you were asleep.â Remus shook his head.
âI was trying to sleep,â he says.
âSorry,â Sirius says.
âItâs not your fault,â Remus replies. But it is. Sirius is definitely to blame for Remusâ insomnia. Because how the fuck is he supposed to sleep when Sirius Black is lying right there next to him, his lips soft and full and utterly kissable; his jawline sharp and incredibly sexy; his hair still somehow looking flawless, despite tumbling out of the bed seconds ago. Just Sirius. Everything about him consumed Remusâ mind, making his heart beat in his ears, driving away sleep. But Sirius canât know this. Not now, not ever.
âThen why canât you sleep?â Sirius asks. Remus just shrugs. âIs it the moon?â
âNo, no,â Remus assures him. âIâm fine. I just⊠couldnât fall asleep. What about you? Is everything ok?â
âYeah, Iâm fine,â Sirius says. âWe should probably try and get some sleep.â
âYeah, I guess so,â Remus says. Sirius climbs back into the bed and they lie there for a while. But Remus canât fall asleep and he can feel Sirius tossing and turning beside him. After what feels like half an hour (although they have no real way of knowing) Remus turns towards Sirius, making what is probably the dumbest decision he will ever make. Remus already knows that he will regret this. But heâs made up his mind now; heâs going to do this.
âSirius?â Remus whispers.
âYeah?â Sirius says, turning his head towards Remus but remaining flat on his back.
âCan I ask you something?â
âOf course,â Sirius says. âHold on.â He turns to where James and Peter are fast asleep, snoring like logs, and casts a silencing charm around the bed. âOk. Now we can talk normally. So whatâs up?â
âItâs⊠I have a problem and I need some advice.â
âOk,â Sirius nods. âWhat kind of advice?â
Remus swallows hard.
âDating advice,â he says.
âOh,â Sirius says; Remus canât discern his tone. âOk, what do you need?â You. I need you.
âI⊠I like someone.â
âOk,â Sirius says. âWhatâs she like?â Remus swallows again. Thereâs no turning back now.
âHe,â he whispers. Sirius looks at him in surprise but thereâs no judgment or disgust in his expression.
âOk, whatâs he like?â
âHeâs⊠incredible,â Remus says. âHeâs smart and heâs kind and heâs funny and⊠heâs really, really gorgeous.â Remus feels himself blush.
âOk,â Sirius says. âDo you know if heâs into guys?â
âYeah,â Remus nods, âhe is.â
âOk,â Sirius says again. He turns on his side so heâs facing Remus. âIâm not seeing the problem here.â
âThe problem is⊠heâs my friend. And thereâs no way he likes me back.â
âWhy not?â Sirius asks. Remus snorts. Sirius grabs Remusâ arm. âRemus. Why the fuck not?â
âBecause heâs just⊠heâs way out of my league. And besides, he would never look at me like that.â
âAnd you really like him?â Sirius asks.
âSo much,â Remus says, closing his eyes. âI like him so much. And every time I see him itâs just⊠I die all over again.â
âHave you told him how you feel?â Sirius asks. Remus shakes his head, opening his eyes.
âI donât want to fuck everything up.â
âRemus, you have to talk to him,â Sirius says. Remus just shakes his head. âYes, Remus, yes you do. You need to talk to him and find out how he feels.â
âSirius, I told you, I havenât got a chance with him,â Remus says. âTelling him, it would⊠it wouldnât do anybody any good. Heâd just be weirded out.â
âRemus, if he really is your friend then he wouldnât want you to be in this much pain. Just talk to him. Tell him how you feel. Think about whatâll happen if he feels the same way; you can be happy.â
âAnd if he doesnât?â Remus asks.
âIf he doesnâtâŠâ Sirius hesitates. âIf he doesnât then you can start to get over him. And Iâll be here for you. The whole time.â Sirius puts his arm around Remus. Remus closes his eyes for a moment and breathes.
âIs that what you would do?â Remus asks. âIf you were me, would you do this?â
âYeah,â Sirius said, âthatâs what I would do.â It takes Remus several moments to collect himself. Heâs not ready for this but he wonât ever be more ready, so he might as well. Remus turns to face Sirius. Their faces are just inches from each other.
âSirius,â he says slowly. He looks deep into Sirius' eyes. Their penetrating grey stares straight back. Siriusâ mouth falls open as he realizes what Remus is telling him. Remus reaches out and caresses Siriusâ cheek, brushing his lip with his thumb, determined to do it once before Sirius pushes him away and starts hating him for fucking everything up.
âItâs⊠me?â Sirius asks. Remus feels the tears well in his eyes as he nods, but he doesnât let them out.
âIâm so sorry, Sirius, I didnât mean toââ But then Sirius kisses him, swallowing the end of his sentence.
âShh,â Sirius whispers, as they break apart, lips still close together. âDonât apologize. Donât apologize for anything. Youâre so stupid. Youâre so fucking stupid, you bitch. How could you think for a second that I donât want you?â Sirius ran his fingers through Remusâ hair and Remus leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. âYouâre so perfect. And I love you, Remus. Iâm so in love with you. And every second you were talking about that guy you liked I wanted to scream with agony.â
âIâm sorââ
âShh,â Sirius says, putting a finger to Remusâ lips. âYou have nothing to apologize for.â Remus smiles and rests his forehead against Siriusâ.
âI love you too, Sirius,â he says. He takes Siriusâ hand and their fingers intertwined together. Remusâ tilts his head so his lips flutter over Siriusâ. Then he turns his head and does something heâs been thinking about for months, imagining what it would be like. He kisses Siriusâ jaw. He starts below his earlobe, kissing his way down that perfect jawline.
âRemus,â Sirius moans. Hearing Sirius say his name like that makes Remusâ heart pound faster than he thought was humanly possible and this time he kisses Siriusâ lips. He lets out a moan and pulls Sirius in, closer, closer, but Remus doesnât need to make an effort because Sirius is pressing his body into Remusâ. Theyâre so close, Remus can feel Siriusâ pulse beneath his fingers. Itâs fast. Remus kisses Sirius harder. And finally, finally, Remus can do what heâd been longing to do with Sirius in this bed all year. And maybe after that, if thereâs any time left, Remus could get some sleep at last.
#remus lupin#remus lupin fluff#sirius black#sirius black fluff#moony#padfoot#wolfstar#wolfstar fluff#wolfstar fanfiction#remus x sirius#sirius x remus#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders one shot#wolfstar oneshot
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hey hi I've been trying to write something, anything, and what came out is like 3k of an extremely stupid supervillain/superhero story that Iâd been kicking around in some form like over ten years ago. it doesnât map onto any kind of an AU so I guess itâs original fiction? enjoy?
Cityton Chronicles, part 1
The problem with carrying out an evil scheme, thought Edmund, was the scheme part.
Anyone could nurse a sinister thought or two; it wasn't that hard to shake one's fist at the sky and murmur, âYou'll pay for this. With God as my witness, oh, you will payâ and then maybe cackle a little. That much was child's play. (Literal child's play; he had witnessed more than a few dire pronouncements from his classmates at Hawthorne Grimmsbury's Academy for Ominous Boys, especially when recess was threatened.)
Actually going through with a plan was a whole different story. There were logistics to manage. There were people to manipulate, details to babysit, hypotheticals to anticipate. The nitty-gritty, as it were.
Edmund was not destined for the nitty-gritty.
Although, wasn't that what useless people always said? âI'm more of a big-picture person.â Maybe he was useless. Maybe that was the issue. Maybe Edmund Malarkey, heir to Malarkey Industries, was simply not cut out for masterminding.
Case in point, he had a terrible feeling he was about to make a complete hash of the Ritual.
The parameters were clear enough: full moonâcheck. Chalk for pentagramsâcheck. One hundred lit candlesâcheck. (Some were scented; the store hadn't had enough plain tapers in stock, but the text of the Ritual had been written well before the notion of pumpkin spice was a cozy twinkle in some godless marketer's eye, and so Edmund figured this would probably not disqualify him.) Thirteen hooded figures, all in black...
This was where things got dicey.
The first sign of the trouble to come was when Carl showed up in navy fucking blue.
Edmund pinched at the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly, breath crystalline in the late November air. The invitations had been so specific.
âIt looked pretty dark online,â Carl offered as the wind whipped at them atop the roof of the Cityton Natural History Museum.
âPretty dark? Pretty dark? Did it look like the blackest black?â said Edmund. âDid it look like Anish Kapur's most haunting nightmare? Did it look like a raven's wing in shadow at the stroke of midnight, Carl?â Carl stuck out his chin. âIt's almost black.â
âYes, and bananas and humans share about sixty percent of their DNA, we're almost cousins,â Edmund told him, dangerously quiet, âbut fortunately for you, I'm not going to peel you and eat you in a fruit salad, you buffoonish optimist.â
Edmund should never have relied upon his father's former henchpeople. They were loyal to his father; they looked upon him with bemused tolerance. He should've just gone ahead and recruited all of the necessary twelve people from Craigslist. He'd held off due to a suspicion that anyone he found on the internet would assume the Ritual was fundamentally a weird sex thing, but at least a bunch of kinksters would have probably taken the rules seriously.
He sighed. âCarl, there's a bodega down on the corner. Go buy two black trash bags and make yourself a garbage-robe.â Carl frowned. âIs there time?â
Edmund checked his phone. Eleven fifty-three. âHurry. And save the receipt.â
Another gust of wind kicked up. Edmund shivered. He'd been smart enough to request a fabric swatch ahead of time from the Etsy store where he'd custom-ordered his own set of hooded black robes. He hadn't stopped to consider how warmâor notâa single layer of said fabric would feel well into autumn, completely unshielded by the elements. Theoretically, he could've crammed a coat under the robes, like a child wearing a Halloween costume in an unseasonably cold October, but no, he hadn't wanted to look bulky.
He checked the candles again, for want of anything better to do.
âBoss,â said a hesitant voice behind him.
âWhat is it, Stephanie,â said Edmund.
Stephanie had clearly repurposed her teenager's old Hermione costume as her robes, but she had bothered to remove the Hogwarts branding, which was something, at least. Beyond the fact that Edmund didn't feel like giving a repellent transphobe any extra attention, there might have been copyright issues.
âIs that thing about bananas really true?â
âYeah,â said Edmund. He had read it many years ago, in a book titled 2002 MORE WACKY FACTS TO BLOW YOUR MIND AND AMAZE YOUR FRIENDS, which didn't seem especially pertinent. He did a quick headcount. Even without Carl, they only numbered eleven. âWhere's Donna?â
âYou should call her,â said Stephanie. âDonna never answers her texts.â
Edmund had been halfway through tapping out a text. Ugh, Boomers. Calling was for emergencies only; everyone knew that. Unfortunately, this qualified. He gritted his teeth and dialed.
Donna answered on the fourth ring. âWhat?â She sounded groggy.
âDid you,â said Edmund, still through gritted teeth, âforget what night the Ritual was?â
âOh shit,â mumbled Donna. âAre you sure? I thought it was at noon tomorrow. Carl told me twelve o'clock.â
âAt night,â said Edmund. âTwelve o'clock at night, this is a dark incantation to a primordial god, it does not overlap with daytime television.â
Just then, Edmund's phone beeped with another call. âCan you hold, Donna,â he hissed.
âHey boss,â said Carl, âthe bodega only has white or green trash bags, what's my next step?â
âHOLD,â Edmund shouted, switching calls again. âDonna, can you grab an extremely dark-colored robe and be here immediately?â
âLike a bathrobe?â said Donna, sounding lost.
Of course Carl had not bothered to relay the dress code. Of course he hadn't even managed to hand her the painstakingly crafted invitation. Edmund had used the nicest card stock available to him, not that it mattered.
âUh, boss?â Leroy called over the roar of the wind. Edmund flexed his stiffening fingers.
âOne second, Donna,â said Edmund.
âHow much longer is this gonna be?â said Leroy. âBecause I was gonna catch the late show tonightââ
âWatch it on YouTube the next day like a normal person!â Edmund snapped. âDonnaââ
âI can be there by 12:40,â said Donna through the tinny phone speaker. âThere's some errands I wanna run first.â
âIt's the middle of the night, what errands!â said Edmund. âDonna, holdââ He switched back to Carl. âListen, are you sure there aren't any black trash bags?â
âWhite or green only,â Carl affirmed. âSome of them are scented, do you think that would make a difference?â
âBoss,â said Frank from the other side of the roof, âwe lost the chalk?â
âHold on, Carl,â said Edmund. âWhat?â
âIt was here a second ago!â âDid you secure the chalk against the wind?â
âWhat?â said Frank.
âThe chalk, it's cylindrical!â Edmund managed to shout. âDid you do anything so it wouldn't just roll straight off the roof?â
Somewhere above the din of wind came the sound of a half dozen pieces of sidewalk chalk landing on the street five stories below and shattering.
Edmund buried his (cold) face in his (frozen) hands.
âUh boss,â said Stephanie. âIt's 12:01.â
Edmund sighed. The primordial god K'h'gg'ragel might have allowed for some creative interpretations on Ritual-adjacent matters, but everyone knew K'h'gg'ragel was a stickler for punctuality.
âAlright,â said Edmund, pitching his voice to carry. âPack it in, we'll try again next full moon.â
âPhew,â said Leroy, who was wearing a thick downy jacket over his robes, and a hat with earflaps, and mittens. âIt's cold out.â
âI FOUND A BLUE ONE!â Carl shouted from the speaker. âIS THAT ANY BETTER?â
Edmund turned his phone off.
Lighting and strategically placing one hundred candles had been something of an undertaking. Blowing them all out alone and stuffing them back into a series of duffel bags was somehow worse. Edmund was about half-done when he heard a distinct whirring buzz. He looked up.
It was Dragonfly. Of course it was Dragonfly, heading right for him.
Great. Edmund's first-ever showdown was going to be a one-on-one against a superhero armed with a jetpack, one hell of a punch, and electrified darts. Edmund was going to get flattened, and all before he even got the chance to point out that the darts and for that matter the punching didn't fit with the overall insect theme.Â
âHey man,â said Dragonfly, dropping effortlessly down to the roof of the museum. âI saw the lights from the sky, thought I'd investigate.â
They weren't fighting yet. Why weren't they fighting? Edmund's whole body fizzed with adrenaline. Also, cold. Either way, he was shaking a little, and bouncing on the balls of his feet.
âAnd what, strike another heroic blow against the terror that is a bunch of sweater-themed Yankee Candles?â said Edmund.
Dragonfly shrugged. His costume included a bottle-green moto jacket and gloves. It looked warm, in a way that made Edmund feel even colder. âSweater candles? What, like burning wool?â he said.
Privately, Edmund had wondered about that too. This, he decided obscurely, was another strike against Dragonfly.
âMaybe burning wool smells phenomenal,â said Edmund instead, rocking forward. âThere's no way you could possibly know, unless you're here to tell me you've lit a sheep on fire, which seems well outside your wholeââ he waved his hands vaguely ââmoral compass.â
âWord travels fast,â said Dragonfly gravely. âI am foursquare against sheep-burning. Always have been.â
Edmund squared his shoulders. âSo, are we doing this, or what?â
From behind his signature oversized goggles, Dragonfly's brow seemed to furrow slightly. âDoing what?â
âFighting,â said Edmund. He had to grind his teeth together to keep them from chattering.
âAh,â said Dragonfly after a pause. âOh. Um. Okay. Here's the thing?â He steepled his fingers. âYou seem unarmed. You're not hurting anyone. You're also not committing any crimes.â Edmund opened his mouth to protest, and Dragonfly continued, âOr, okay, you're trespassing on the museum, I guess, technically, but it's not like you're even trying to sneak into an exhibit without paying.â
âI am here,â said Edmund firmly, âto perform a terrible and arcane Ritual which will summonââ
âYeah?â said Dragonfly. âWhere's your followers? Where's your summoning chalk? It's well past midnight and the only sign of any occult activity I can see is the candles, but for all I know, you were just up here trying to have a little me-time, which, like, on some level I get, you know?â
âSo,â said Edmund blankly, âwhat now?â He had given up on trying to tense his jaw. His upper and lower teeth clacked rhythmically against each other.
âI give you a stern verbal warning about what's probably a minor fire hazard and recommend that you enjoy the museum from the inside, during business hours, with a ticket,â said Dragonfly. âI hear they have a great exhibit on prehistoric mammals. In the meantime, get somewhere warm, okay? Your lips are turning blue.â âFuck off,â Edmund more or less managed to say through his shivers.
Dragonfly spread his hands, placating. âFair enough.â He began to walk away. At the edge of the roof, he hesitated. âUh, do you have a way down?â
âObviously,â said Edmund.
âYeah,â said Dragonfly. âUh, okay.â They regarded each other. âWhat is it?â said Dragonfly after a few seconds.
Edmund froze. Or well, he was already half-frozen. Edmund stopped moving, was the point.
Apparently interpreting Edmund's silence as helplessness, Dragonfly offered dubiously, âI could carry you down?â
âHow,â said Edmund, flat. It was the wrong thing to say, in that it wasn't 'No,' or 'Fuck off' again, something sensible like that, but damn it, he was freezing, and if he gave up the way he'd gotten everyone onto the roof, then this whole fucking evening was going to be a wash. He had tried so hard. It wasn't fair.
Dragonfly took a step closer. âFireman or bridal?â
Edmund tried and failed to parse this three separate times in his cold-fuzzed brain. âIs that a meme?â he settled on finally.
âDo you,â said Dragonfly, âhave a preference on how I carry you.â
âWe haven't even established that you're going to,â Edmund said. Clackity clackity clack went his traitorous teeth.
Dragonfly sighed. âI can't leave you up here,â he said. âOne, if I let you keep hanging out on the roof of the history museum, then technically I'm kinda aiding and abetting your whole trespassing situation. Two, it is really fucking chilly up here, and if you freeze to death, then that's on me. Which is also not, like, great for my conscience.â
âSo I don't have a choice,â Edmund spat.
âYou totally have a choice,â said Dragonfly. He tilted his head to the side. âHell, you could do me a solid and just exit using whatever secret method you entered with, but I have a feeling mum's the word on that particular angle.â
This Dragonfly character was smarter than he looked. Of course, he was a grown man who fought crime dressed as a giant insect. The bar was not particularly high.
âMum's the word?â Edmund echoed. âWhat are you, ninety?â
âI'm an old fucking soul, dude,â said Dragonfly. âPoint being, you don't trust me not to watch you leave the roof. Which is hurtful, frankly. I'm not sure I trust you not to stay up here out of pure stubbornness. If I give you a quick boost down, then it's problem solved and we can both go about our nights. Crime-fighting for me, and for you hopefully a pile of blankets and whatever warm food rich people eat. Mashed potatoes? With...caviar?â
This clearly did not merit a response. Dragonfly knew who Edmund was, apparently. Most people did.
âWhat if you drop me?â said Edmund.
Dragonfly laughed. He had a nice laugh. It was yet another point against him, somehow. âDon't you think that might go against my wholeââ he gestured with both hands âmoral compass?â
Edmund recognized his own words being used against him. On the other hand, the thought of a hot meal and, moreover, central heating beckoned.
âI don't care,â Edmund said at last.
âWhat?â said Dragonfly.
âBridal or fireman's carry,â said Edmund. âI don't care.â
Dragonfly nodded sagely. âLet's get this over with, then,â he said. âHey, dâyou want help with your candles?â
Did he? He didn't want to want help with his candles, but that was another question. On the other hand, if Edmund accepted Dragonfly's aid, it would shave off valuable minutes of this excruciating headache. The backs of Edmund's knees were cold. It was absurd.
âFine,â said Edmund.
âHuh,â said Dragonfly several minutes later. âThis one's rain-scented, and this one's Ocean Spray, and yet they smell nothing alike.â
Dragonfly had without fail commented on every single scented candle in the bunch. Edmund looked up from his umpteenth taper candle, momentarily distracted from the knifelike chill.
âRain and ocean are two completely different things,â said Edmund. âThe surrounding environment, the vibe, the salt content.â
âThe vibe, I grant you,â said Dragonfly. âBut salt, really? Have you ever smelled salt before?â
âThe ocean has a smell,â Edmund insisted. His family had summered on the coast every year beforeâwell. Before last year. He mostly remembered the sea as having a whiff of fish about it, which didn't sound promising for a candle, but it was the principle of the thing.
Dragonfly shrugged. âYou've got me there,â he said. âNever been.â Cityton was only about an hour's drive from the beach. Edmund wasn't sure he knew anyone who had never visited at least once, for a long weekend at least. Of course, it wasn't like Edmund knew Dragonfly. He didn't even know what Dragonfly's eyes looked like.
Edmund blew out another few tapers.
âThis one's just called Singing Carols,â Dragonfly announced. âGuess what it smells like, I dare you.â
And so on.
In the end, Dragonfly carried Edmund off the roof of the Natural History Museum scooped under the armpits, the way you might hold a cat if you were engaging in some light cat-related horseplay. The mechanical dragonfly wings were well-made, Edmund could admit that much; Dragonfly didn't seem to have any issue bearing Edmund's weight or the combined weight of the candles, and their feet gently touched the ground after only a few seconds. It was already slightly warmerâor at least slightly less freezingâon street-level.
Dragonfly let go and stepped back immediately. This close, Edmund could see that his lips were pretty badly chapped. It made sense that someone who donated all their time toâagainâflitting around town trying to right every minuscule so-called wrong while dressed like a bug wouldn't be experienced enough with self-care to be acquainted with a good lip balm, but the thought made Edmund weirdly a little sad.
His sense of deeply ingrained politeness warred against the equally powerful urge to be a real bastard about the whole thing. In the end, politeness won out, by the very skin of its mannerly little teeth.
âThank you for not dropping me to my almost certain death,â Edmund gritted out with extreme reluctance. He stared over Dragonfly's shoulder as he said it.
Nevertheless, for some awful reason, for just that moment, it felt a little like the end of a date.
âRight,â said Dragonfly. âRight. Well then. Happy trails.â He seemed to consider this. âOr you know, if doing crimes is what makes you happy, then for the sake of Cityton, let's say, mediocre trails. Do you wanna borrow my gloves?â
âWhy,â said Edmund flatly.
Even though the goggles completely obscured much of the upper half of Dragonfly's face, Edmund had the distinct sense that a disbelieving stare was being leveled at him.
âFor your hands? You know, the traditional office of gloves?â
As the scion of Malarkey Industries, Edmund was long accustomed to being hated for who he was. Hated, feared, not-too-secretly envied. And lately: mocked, dismissed, his family name transmuted into a juicy, low-hanging punchline for lazy late night writers.
He wasn't sure he'd ever been pitied before. It did not sit well.
âI'll warm my hands on the fires of hell while I plot your demise, you miserable fool,â growled Edmund.
âYikes,â said Dragonfly easily. âWell, I'm off.â And with that, he took to the sky.
Edmund curled his fingers into the sleeves of his stupid, summer-weight summoner's robes and started back towards what remained of his home.
#original fiction#cityton chronicles#I'm sure that in some obscure way the fact that I'm thinking about this now is due to mainlining The Untamed#but this is definitely. not that.#warning for an extremely brief mention of transphobia that the main character condemns#also apparently there is a dragonfly-themed superhero in a 2008 superhero spoof movie?#let's say that movie exists in this world too and Dragonfly has taken a lot of shit for it#that sounds about right
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Video calls and confessions
Part 2
Rated Explicit (18+)
Got around to that part teo for this one shot.
Hellboy/Cam!Girl
____________________
The world going to shit wasnât exactly howâd you planned out your Friday afternoon. This morning you had woken up with enthusiasm and a desire to treat yourself.
Youâd gone out to the city, had your nails done, grabbed an obscenely priced coffee and on your way had stumbled on a museum.
A little culture never hurt nobody.
For Christ sake it was a free entry day too.
So why then, as you admired priceless art and sculptures had literal hell descended upon the evening?
Creatures. Actual monsters. The screams of the public deafening.
That had happened about half an hour ago. In your haste you had thanked you fight or flight mode to quick into flight. The shaking in your body had cause you to run into one of the exhibit rooms most cluttered with random âjunkâ whatever this art installation had gone for it was surely not for somebody to duck behind for safety.
You checked your phone. The news was reporting the attack of the art museum. Authorities had been sent as well as the B.P.R.D...
That made you pause and clutch your phone.
If the bureau was on its way then that meant Hellboy was too.
The very notion of possibly seeing him in the flesh made your heart skip a few beats. The two of you had been communicating on and off for a while now since the private shows had started. You knew mixing work and pleasure wasnât smart but fuck, you had it bad for this guy.
There was a sense of relief washing over you. Heâd be here, heâd take care of this mess. Maybe youâd finally see him and not through a computer screen. You knew things had escalated with him although neither of you had really properly addressed it.
âPlease whatever is up there, if I survive this Iâm fucking telling him Iâm in love with himâ You whispered to yourself. This possibly couldnât be your last day on earth.
Something screeching and something akin to a human scream startled you. You hugged your knees closer and tried not to breath loudly. Gunshots and more screams could be heard.
Then something came crashing into the installation where you were hiding. Your scream was imposible to hold in. The creature was screeching so loudly, a sound that left your ears ringing.
Adrenaline made you run out as fast as you humanly could. You heard the great strides it took to catch up to you. This was it wasnât it? You were gonna die?
Your legs kept pushing you forward even as your muscles burned with pain. Your eyes hurt from crying and your throat felt like it was sandpaper. Something like a claw reaching for your hair made you close your eyes. There was no way you wanted to see how this ended for you.
Two shots.
Loud and so very clear, the sound coming out of left field made you trip and fall. The screening fortunately had stopped.
âMiss?! Youâre safe! Hey! You gotta get out of here now!â That voice you knew all to well. You looked up and saw red and a stone hand.
âR-red...â Your voice was small, a sob catching in your throat.
âY/N!?â He was shocked, eyes wide as he knelt in front of you.
You werenât sure how your body moved or if he moved you but somehow youâd ended up with your arms around him sobbing into his neck. Hellboy held you tightly, whispering that you were safe, an array of cusses slipped out as he breathed heavily.
The knowledge that you were here, if heâd been a millisecond too late, all crashed down on him as he picked you up and carried you to safety.
You couldâve died, was all that ran through his head.
Youâre alive, was all that ran through yours.
_______________
One helicopter ride, a medical exam and a shower later you found yourself at the home base of the B.P.R.D. A nice young woman by the name of Alice had loaned you some clothes and had taken you to Hellboyâs room to wait. A debriefing was happening and all you could do was sit tight.
You resolved to canceling all your cam shows for the week stating you had fallen terribly ill. There was no way you could work, your hands were still shaking as you typed out the post and notified your one on one shows. It felt like hours as you sat on the couch, you had looked around at his room, seeing and array of personal items that made up his personality.
Such a big part of you often dreamt about this but your nerves had you glued to your spot.
The door opened and Hellboy came barreling in like a tornado. You flinched and bit too hard on your already chewed off nail, so much for that manicure.
âIâm so sorry, I wanted to leave that stupid meeting but itâs fucking mandatory because Daimio thinks itâs necessary, asshole that guy I tell ya-â He took in your state, the still slight tremble in your hands, the few scrapes here and there. You looked small and scared and it absolutely destroyed him.
In his silence he made his way towards the coffee table and sat in front of you. âYou know I often fantasized what it be like to see you in the flesh, this wasnât how it usually went I promiseâ He smiled and for the first time in this piss filled day, so did you.
âHow would it go?â You asked softly.
âSome mood light, a little wine maybe some musicâ The two of you chuckled. Your chuckles quickly dissolved in you trying to hold back your tears.
You were almost killed tonight, the shock would take some time to subside. âHey hey kid, itâs ok, Iâve got you. Ainât nothing gonna happen to you on my watchâ Hellboyâs flesh hand rested on your knees.
You leaned forward and rested your forehead on his shoulder. â...When I read you guys were sent out, I really got excited that Iâd finally see youâ You felt his flesh hand stroke your hair.
âIâm in love with youâ You blurted out, his hand going to still. âI said, if Iâm making it out of this alive Iâm telling him, so Iâm telling you...â You looked up at him, e/c meeting his golden ones.
âI-Im not dancing around this no more, Iâm tired of pretending that whatâs been going on isnât just some work thing that I do, fuck, I love you I really do and I think you do tooâ Your mouth want dry again, the scratchy sensation making you swallow.
Hellboy searched out your eyes, something in his head was going a mile a minute. Was he searching for a lie? Something disingenuous?
That all died when he lunged forward and kissed you.
A kiss that truly and utterly left no worry.
You were kissing Hellboy. You were gripping Hellboy by the scruff of his shirt. The way his lips molded against yours, the abnormal warmth to them, the softness to them, the roughness of his scruff.
Pulling back for air felt obligated but heâd insisted by pressing the stumps of his horns against your forehead. âWow...thatâs...so much better than I couldâve imaginedâ He was star struck in a way and it honest to god made you laugh.
The days events took a back seat for now you wanted to take in the being before you. You scanned everything you normally did while on cam with him. Your hands explored his face, running across scars and hair.
Then you remembered what lay to his right and your heart raced.
You gripped his stone hand, fascinated by the texture of stone, how he held your hand with so much regard to his strength. The patterns, the markings everything has you entranced.
âExtraordinaryâ Was all you could muster as you rubbed on what would be the inside f his wrist. âIâm sorry, is this weirding you out?â You looked at Hellboy only to find him grinning. âHaving a beautiful girl touch me? Yes itâs completely weirding me outâ He mocked and you couldnât help but playfully shove him.
âGod I need a beer, can we...?â He was leaning over toward the mini fridge next to the couch and pulling said drinks out. âRead my mind, beautifulâ He offered one towards you.
This morning you were going about a normal routine, and now after a near death experience you were in the room of a man you had been falling in love with for months. The twist and turns of life.
Around round 3 youâd excused yourself to use the bathroom. As you washed your hands and saw your normal pristine face a little worn down from the stressful events you frowned.
But there you stood in Hellboyâs bathroom. Surrounded by things all him. The tips of your fingers ran through a brush of his. This was a reality right now.
You stepped out and caught him shrugging off his coat. Busying your thumbnail again at your teeth you watched his now visible arms flex with the movements.
âAll good?â He smiled leaning against the dresser.
There was a pregnant pause in which the two of you merely just ogled one another from across the bed.
You moved first.
You walked over the bed and stood on it, you reached out a hand that he took without hesitation and with the extra height from the bed you met in a heated kiss face to face. You wrapped your arms around his neck, you felt his around your hips.
In a wordless haste you yanked at his black T-shirt and busied yourself with taking off yours. He watched mesmerized, as always, the revealing of your skin.
The image before you though, god you wanted to scream.
Hellboy undoing his belt and swiftly yanking the whole thing out of the belt loops without breaking eye contact. Off were your pants, and on was him as he took you down on the bed.
It was a haze, breathless kisses and chants of desire. He one handed the button of your jeans and his own. The brief separation to take the offending items off had the two of you giggling almost. In record time he was back on you and you welcomed it with a ferocity to your kisses. Tongue slipping into his mouth, you swallowed a groan of his that vibrated all the way to your cunt.
He was here, you were here. Physically.
You grinned as he trailed kisses over both your covered breast. âTake-fuck-take it off please, now right nowâ You felt the air leave your lungs when he simply broke the bra in half and met his reward, two beautifully round breasts he had craved more than any meal. Hellboy pressed his face between them and inhaled before leaving a series of bites and marks. Each time he bit down your raised your hips in search of friction.
The heaviness in the air, the warmth of him lapping and sucking at your breast. The heated tongue wrapping around a nipple. Hellboy devoured you, and if your breast had him like this...
âBaby please, wanna touch you tooâ Your hands ran down his back, sharp nails leaving a path. Hellboy shuddered as he left a nipple with a loud pop. âGo on, Iâm all yoursâ That very comment sent a gush of heat and you bit your lip to hold a moan in.
You nudged him to lay on his back and you climbed on top of him. Hands running over your body, the feeling of that stone hand gently cupping your rear was enough to make you grind down on him with purpose.
âI promised you something every time we spoke, you remember what that was?â You rubbed yourself on him as you began to trail down his body. Hellboyâs eyes were fogged with lust. âOh, you rememberâ You kissed his stomach, nails scratching his sides before hooking into the waistband of his underwear.
He was going to have a stroke.
Hellboy watched you slide his underwear down. Eyes hungry and mouth engulfing his cock. He bucked up without meaning to but you caught most of the onslaught by closing up your throat. A minor choke and you were back on track.
Fuck he was big and thick, you did your best swallowing as much as possible before settling the rest with your hand to jerk. The gut punched groan that left him egging you on. He saw your head bob, the way your lips stretched around his length, the blissed out look as you sucked earnestly. âShit shit, you look beautifulâ Hellboy reached a left hand across your cheek.
Letting him go with a breathy inhale, spit on your chin you jerked him lazily.
He was putting this look away for a rainy day. You had no right looking so utterly debauched and perfect.
âCâmere and kiss me, beautifulâ Hellboy whispered softly and you obeyed crawling on him to meet him in a sensual slow lip lock.
Underwear gone, or more so also ripped apart. You were now on top of him about to guide his cock into your drenched hole. The initial burn was actually delicious, that breach between pain and pleasure sending a delightful shock through your body. Once fully seated on him you reveled in stretch and burn. âGod this is, fuck I-â You moaned as you tested with a sway of your hips, he was hitting your spot perfectly. You rested your hands on his chest and he gripped your waist.
Hellboy was gone, the sight of you riding him, lost in your pleasure caused by him nevertheless. It was the most beautiful thing heâd ever see. Lost to it all you fell forwards, burying your face in his neck. Your impending release had you stuttering your hips. âI got you baby, I got youâ He muttered against your ear. You moaned as he held you, hips pistoning upwards to drive that orgasm out of you.
It crashed something fierce, running all over your body and coming out as a scream against his neck. You felt limp as a noodle but held onto him as he fucked his way through yours. When he came he yanked another orgasm out of you along with his.
The two of you laid there, a mess of limbs clutching at each other. Hearts racing, lungs trying to catch up.
Exhaustion won. You fell a sleep on Hellboy, still inside of you, his mouth against your temple.
There was no turning back now.
#hellboy#hellboy x fem!reader#hellboy x reader insert#hellboy 2019#hellboy x reader#female reader insert#reader insert#sequel fic#n*fw
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leaves of three, let it be [2/3] || harlivy
Chapters: 2/3
Fandom: Â DCU (Comics)DCUHarley Quinn (Comics)Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence
Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Characters: Pamela Isley, Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle
Additional Tags: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of batman fucking bats, most of this is straight up idiocy tbh, i just finished watching the cartoon so everyone swears like a sailor iâm sorry, rated for (ahem) happenings later on, ivy/harley/catwoman frenemies
Summary
After Harley mistakenly confesses her love and then promptly takes it back, Ivy spends some time sorting through the things she absolutely doesn't feel (and the ones she does). Selina and Harley don't quite help.
Chapter 1: Tumblr | AO3
Chapter 2: AO3
If you ever asked Poison Ivy if sheâs into meditation, sheâd say she isnât.
Actually, if you ever asked Poison Ivy if sheâs into meditation, sheâd probably stare you down until you crumbled under the sheer weight of her judgment and apologized for ever talking to her, but thatâs beside the point.
The point is, Ivy doesnât meditate. The concept of meditation, if you ask her, goes in the same patchouli-scented box as moon-charged crystals and essential oils.
No. What Ivy does is⊠introspection. Yeah. She introspects. She consciously clears her mind of all intrusive thoughts. Which may sound a lot like meditation, maybe? But â she cannot stress this enough â itâs not the same thing.
So there she is. Sitting on her couch. Introspecting. And it may look like sheâs staring off into the distance, but sheâs actually looking at a nearly invisible, tiny little hint of a green sprout thatâs managed to grow in a crack on the windowsill.
There it is. A tiny little fighter. Just likeâ
Nope.
No way.
We are absolutely not thinking about her. Weâre introspecting. So Ivy takes in a deep breath, in through her nose, eyes fluttering closed as she exhales slowly and then opens them and tries again.
As she was saying. A tiny little sprout. She could go over there and touch it and quite literally breathe life into it. She canât tell what kind of plant it is, but she could make it bloom if itâs a flowering species. What if itâs a tree? She could make it grow so big its roots would tear this whole building apart just like her heart was torn apart last niâ
Motherfâ
âMorning, my little dill pickle.â
Selina climbs in through the window, practically gliding into Ivyâs apartment with the kind of grace that would normally make Ivy stop and stare and perhaps have a not-quite-respectful thought or two.
Listen: she has eyes. Donât read into it.
Anyway. As graceful and ridiculously nimble as Selina is, sheâs also way up high in Ivyâs shit list at the moment (second only to you know who), so today is not the day for lighthearted conversation and platonic crushes.
âFuck you, Selina,â Ivy offers as a greeting, glancing at the plant to make sure itâs still there. And it is, of course. Selina fucking Kyle may be a bitch and a half, but she knows how to move without leaving a trace.
âNow?â Selina cocks one perfectly manicured eyebrow at Ivy, the slightest hint of a teasing smirk on her face. âI mean I was gonna offer brunch, but that doesnât sound like the worst midday plan.â
Ivy simply stares for a moment, as if sheâs forgotten if thereâs one person in the world thatâs absolutely immune to even her most wilting looks, thatâs Selina fucking Kyle.
âOh, come on,â Selina practically groans, âstop it. Brooding is such a teen boy move.â
âI am not brooding.â
âRight.â With one single word, Selina makes it clear that she doesnât believe Ivy and, most importantly, that she doesnât care enough to argue. âAnyway. Brunch? My treat.â
Ivy closes her eyes. Not meditating. Just introspecting. Just trying to channel the urge to make a full-grown sequoia grow out of Selina Kyleâs ass into something productive. One deep breath in through her nose andâ
âWe can have margaritas!â Selina lets out a quiet chuckle as she admires the perfectly matte black polish on her fingernails. âYikes. Too soon?â
Fuck introspection.
âI. Am going. To fucking murder you.â Ivy stands up with every intention to make good on that promise, and Selina must read it in her eyes because for the first time since Ivyâs known her â for the first time in her life, maybe â Selina looks scared.
Well, maybe not scared.
But she is absolutely concerned.
âFuck me, Ive, damn,â Selina takes one step back, no longer smirking, âcalm down, will you?â
Ivy stops, Selinaâs audacity basically jolting her out of her murderous rage. âCalm down, Selina? Fucking seriously? You did what you did and now you come here and tell me to fucking calm down?â
Selina tilts her head just so, like sheâs conceding (against her will) that maybe there is a reason for Ivy to be somewhat upset with her.
âOh, come on,â she sighs, rolling her shoulders like the tension has to leave her body somehow, and it will certainly not be via an apology, âit wasnât even real poison.â
Ivyâs eyes widen slightly in disbelief. Does Selina think sheâs mad because she thinks Harley was in actual danger?
No. No, Selina canât think that, because Selina may be an asshole, but sheâs a very smart asshole. So she must know Ivyâs well aware of Harleyâs immunity to toxins. She must know thatâs not even remotely the reason Ivyâs spent the last eleven hours and some change introspecting all thoughts of last night out of her mind.
For a split second, Ivy feels something similar to warmth towards Selina as she considers that maybe sheâs simply ignoring the embarrassing part of the event to spare Ivy. Maybe sheâs pretending this is about Harleyâs physical wellbeing and not⊠well. The other thing.
Sadly, the split second passes.
âIf it helps,â Selina says, and even before she finishes the sentence Ivy can already sense it wonât help at all, âitâs totally reciprocated.â
Ivy feels it crawling up her veins, thick like sap. Sheâs managed to distill plenty of emotions, turned them into tonics and toxins and elixirs and used them for her own benefit and the Greenâs. Sheâs bottled love â well, lust â and hatred and rage. Fear, even. Insanity, ironically enough. But this.
This⊠this humiliation.
Oh, this is something else.
Ivy closes her eyes. In through her nose, and even the air feels like it has to go through that thick mixture of (public) pain and weakness and acknowledged vulnerability to get to her lungs.
Itâs one thing to have Harley see her like this. Like that. Like last night. Defenses down and heart out there in the open like her ribcageâs forgotten its purpose. Thatâs fine, she figures, because itâs been the norm for years and years and years. Itâs nothing new, really, to have Harley see her accidentally stumble over the line into pathetic from time to time. It happens.
But Selina.
Selina fucking Kyle.
Selina saw that and she understood what she was seeing and now sheâs acknowledging it, and Ivy isnât even mad anymore.
I mean, she is. Sheâs really fucking mad.
Sheâs just many other things as well as mad, so itâs harder to focus on it.
Out through her mouth. Slowly. And her voice is nice and even when she opens her eyes and looks at Selina once again.
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â Ivy lies, walking towards the kitchen like that had been her intention all along, âthere is nothing to reciprocate.â
Ivy can feel Selinaâs look on the back of her head. Sheâs not going to give her the satisfaction of turning around, of course. Selina Kyleâs ego is healthy enough as it is. But she can absolutely feel it. A look involving an arched eyebrow and narrowed eyes and possibly a smirk. Maybe the slightest purse of painted lips, if sheâs going for judgmental rather than smug.
Selina is multi-faceted in her scorn.
âYou have got to be shitting me, Ive,â Selina says, and Ivy still refuses to turn around, focusing instead on staring at the interior of her fridge and ignoring the fact that ninety percent of its contents are there for Harleyâs all-day snacking needs.
She ends up grabbing a jug of water not because sheâs thirsty, but simply because itâs the only thing in there she knows for a fact is there just for her.
âSeriously?â Selina prods, walking closer and crossing her arms over her chest as she watches Ivy methodically fill a glass of water like itâs a delicate operation that requires her undivided attention. âYouâre such a fucking pussy. And I donât mean that as a compliment.â
Ivy does turn around then, gripping the glass with perhaps a little more force than strictly necessary. In her defense, sheâd much rather be gripping Selinaâs neck instead.
âOnce again, Selina,â she says with a slight shrug, taking a sip of cold water, âno idea what youâre talking about.â
Selina gapes at her. Itâs kind of flattering, actually. Itâs not every day something leaves Selina Kyle fully unable to speak. Maybe â Ivy thinks to herself, enjoying her water â sheâll never speak again. Maybe sheâll leave Gotham entirely. Wouldnât that be justâ
Ivyâs train of thought is completely derailed by something that is never a good sign: Selina Kyle is laughing.
Not chuckling. Not snickering. Not letting out one of those sarcastic giggles she likes to use to obliterate peopleâs entire self-esteem.
No. No, this is honest to goodness, full-on belly laughter, and itâs fucking terrifying.
âWhâ what the fuck, Selina?â Ivy asks, trying to sound less scared than she actually is. Selinaâs sense of humor is not so much dark as it is downright fucked up, and if sheâs finding something in this situation funny, it can only mean someone is about to get crushed, metaphorically or otherwise.
All signs point to Ivy.
âLook at you!â Selina points in the general direction of Ivy, like sheâs about to rip her fashion sense to shreds. But this, sadly, has nothing to do with clothes. âHoly shit, youâre in so much deeper than I thought, this is fucking hilarious.â
Ivy takes one step back, until her hip bumps against the counter and she blindly feels around to leave the half-empty glass on it. To her credit, she still manages to try and infuse her voice with something resembling nonchalance one last time.
âYouâre not making any senââ
âMan, youâre in love, in love, huh?â
Ivyâs been shot before. So she feels like sheâs not being overly dramatic when she says Selinaâs words feel just like that. Like being shot right in the gut. And Ivy tries to be as stoic as she usually is when faced with things like gunshots and blunt force and bat-shaped ninja stars (holy fuck, heâs such a nerd), but she feels a bit like sheâs been standing on a castle of cards for the last⊠however many years itâs been since she met Dr. Quinzel in Arkham, and Selinaâs just figured out exactly where to blow to make it all come tumbling down.
âI mean I knew you two were into each other. Obviously,â Selina continues, and Ivy suddenly understands the exact meaning of all those expressions regarding cats and mice, âbut I thought it was like⊠well, you know. Friends in need of a nudge towards the benefits. But this.â
Selina shakes her head, smile as wide as her eyes. She looks both surprised and delighted. Like sheâs really just found out there are feelings involved in whatever lust-filled fever dream sheâd interpreted as reality before now.
âAnd youâre the one whoâs doing all the yearning. I totally thought she was the useless one. Holy shit.â Selina takes a couple steps in the direction of the window, like using a door like a normal person is simply not an option for her. âHow long?â
Ivy opens her mouth, but Selina interrupts her before any sound can come out.
âDonât answer that. I already know.â Selina waves her hand dismissively. âNo wonder youâre fucking terrified. Youâd be safer falling in love with an actual hyena.â
âIâm notââ
âPlease.â Selina reaches the window and notices that little plant for the first time, giving it a little pat that could almost pass for affectionate if you didnât know Selina Kyle. âSo whatâs scarier, Ive?â Selina almost purrs the question. âThat she may not love you back, or that she probably does?â
Ivy tells herself she could murder Selina right then and there, with the help from the little plant. Hell, she could probably kill her without help from the plant.
But that wouldnât really fix anything, right?
âAnyway!â Selina lets out a happy little sigh as she slinks out of the window and onto the fire escape outside. âNo brunch, then. Iâll leave you to your brooding.â Her smile turns into a smirk then, eyes narrowed like sheâs about to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. âAnd donât worry, Ive. I can keep a secret.â
Selina winks at her before she disappears.
Ivy refuses, pointedly, to think about her conversation with Selina.
She tries to go back to her introspection, but it turns out thereâs no breathing in and out when your chest is full of feelings to the point of actual physical discomfort, so Ivy gives up on that, too.
She could plot. Scheme, if you will. Itâs been a while since sheâs gone for an actual multi-step plan to rid Gotham â and, later, the world â of parasitic CEOs profiting off nature. A bit of environmentally friendly murder never fails to put her in a good mood.
But it turns out itâs nearly impossible to come up with a solo plan without being constantly aware of the fact that going solo is no longer her default. A plan involving only herself doesnât feel like just any random plan anymore. Now it feels like a plan without her, and thatâs justâ thatâs just the opposite of what she needs to be thinking about right now.
So.
Whatâs an eco-terrorist to do when eco-terrorism is not an option?
Eight hours later sheâs in her lab, hair haphazardly held in a bun with a pencil as she looks at her latest experiment through her microscope.
The little sprout from her windowsill sits right next to the microscope in a beaker serving as a makeshift flower pot while Ivy works.
âYou know, if this works,â Ivy tells the sprout, eyes trained on the cell that should enter active mitosis any second now, âyouâre going to be my sidekick when we take down the next big guy.â
If this works, and she can give this tiny plant the powers she hopes to give her, they can take over Gotham and the world as a team. Ivyâs always worked best with plants, anyway. Who needsâ
âRed?â
Harleyâs voice is uncharacteristically mellow, but it manages to startle Ivy anyway.
âJesus, Harley,â Ivy doesnât look away from the microscope, âwhat the fuck are you doing here?â
Sheâs not mad. Not at Harley, anyway. None of this is her fault. Sheâs justâ
Listen. Figuring out exactly what to call what sheâs feeling would require introspection, and weâre not doing that anymore.
âOh. I uhââ Thereâs something in Harleyâs tone that twists uncomfortably in Ivyâs chest. âWanted to talk?â
Ivy doesnât want to talk. Talking, as it turns out, may be the very last thing she wants to do. But thereâs that something in Harleyâs voice. Something that sounds a bit like embarrassment. Like shame, even. Like maybe if Ivy were to listen in on Harleyâs inner monologue right now the voice in there would sound suspiciously like him calling her a fuck-up and an idiot andâ
âIâm sorry.â Ivy leaves the little plantâs cell to enter mitosis in its own time and turns to fully focus on Harley. âI didnât mean to snap. You just startled me.â
Harley visibly relaxes. Ivy decides she hates him just that much more than she did ten seconds ago.
âDidnât mean to startle ya,â Harley leaves her bat propped against the trunk of a giant nightshade and takes a few steps towards Ivy.
Normally, Harley has no concept of personal space. She sits on whatever surface is closest to Ivy, invading her space and making it impossible for her to fully focus on anything thatâs not Harley. It should be annoying, but it isnât, for reasons Ivy is absolutely not going to consider at this time.
This time, however, Harley hovers just a step or two away from Ivy and her microscope and her standing desk.
It feelsâŠ
It feels wrong.
âWhat did you want to talk about?â Ivy taps the desk and tries not to smile when Harley beams as she practically bounces to sit on it. Her legs dangle over the edge, well-worn combat boots lightly bumping against Ivyâs legs with each soft swing of Harleyâs feet.
Nothing really feels wrong anymore.
âIâm sorry, Pammy.â
Ivy shakes her head. âItâs fine. You know youâre always welcome here, I just wasnât expectingââ
âNo,â Harley says, and when Ivy looks into her eyes she realizes Harleyâs not going to let her pretend she has no idea what this is about, âI mean Iâm sorry about the other night.â
Ivy stands up a little straighter. Takes half a step back, like thatâs going to help. Crosses her arms over her chest.
âItâs fine.â
Harley tilts her head just so, bright blue eyes narrowing for a second, and Ivy sees a flash of Harleen right there staring back at her. Reading her fucking thoughts, almost. Itâs unnerving.
âItâs fine, Harley,â Ivy insists, tone sharper as she takes another step back. She can hear the low rumble of every vine in her lab stirring along with her mood.
Thereâs a moment there, maybe a few seconds long, where they both simply stare at each other in silence. Like theyâre trying to figure each other out in a way that feels completely foreign because she knows Harley, and Harley knows her, and thereâs nothing to figure out. Nothing at all.
âYou knowââ Harleyâs voice sounds a bit brittle, like it may just break if it hits the wrong word, âyou know I didnât mean it, Pammy.â
Ivy nods. Once.
âI know.â She knows now and she knew when she first met Harley and sheâs known for the last however many years itâs been. She fucking knows itâs love but itâs not love like that. She knows. âItâs fine.â
âYou know Selina just got in my head, right?â Harley keeps talking, and on some level Ivy knows thereâs nothing to be angry about because Harley just wants to explain. She just wants to make sure things arenât weird between them because theyâre best friends. But it feels almost cruel anyway. âYou know I donâtââ
âI know you donât love me, Harley, yes, for fuckâs sakes, Iâm not an idiot.â
âBut Iââ
âDonât.â Ivy holds one finger up. If she has to listen to Harley say she loves her, but just not in that way she may lose her fucking mind. âItâs fine.â
For a few blessed seconds, it feels like maybe Harley will let it go. Like maybe sheâll just drop it and let Ivy get out of this with some semblance of pride.
But that would just be too much to ask, wouldnât it?
âI do love you, Ive, itâs justââ
âHoly shit, Harley!â Ivy raises her voice and hears the tell-tale creak of vines growing up the wall. âI know! I fucking know, all right? Selina is a dick and you thought margarita mix was a love potion and youâre not fucking in love with me, all right? I know!â
âButââ
âNo! No fucking but!â Ivy swears she hears it. The little snap when she loses her last thread of control over what sheâs saying and things spill out before she has a chance to filter them. âI donât love you either, have you even considered that?â
Harleyâs eyes widen in the purest expression of surprise Ivyâs ever seen in her life.
âRight!â Thereâs a part of Ivy that wants to stop. She wants to stop and backtrack and tell Harley she didnât mean it because she canât stand the thought of hurting her, and she needs her to know that of course â of course â Ivy loves her. But she just canât right now. âIâm not secretly in love with you! All right? Iâm glad you donât love me. Iâm fucking fine.â
Harley opens her mouth like sheâs about to speak, but closes it without making a sound. She doesnât look hurt, necessarily. She looks⊠she looks disarmed, almost. Like she doesnât know how to react.
âIâll justââ Harley swallows and jumps off the desk. âWeâre fine, so Iâll just leave. Yeah?â
Ivy nods. âFine.â
âCool. Yeah.â Harley sort of smiles, but not really. She moves a bit slower than usual as she goes back to her bat and walks towards the door, and thereâs a part of Ivy that wants to stop her and fix this somehow â because itâs not fine at all â but self-preservation wins in the end.
âRemember to lock the door on your way out.â
For a second, Harley almost looks like she may say something. And for a second, Ivy almost hopes she will. But Harley just nods and walks out, and when she hears the lock snap into place, Ivy knows sheâs all alone with her plants.
Right where she belongs.
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âitâs december (and i still want you) | m.
âą pairing: kim namjoon/reader
âą genre: smut, angst, fluff (the holy trinity)
âą word count: 16.7k
âą warnings: explicit sexual content, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe kids!), dirty talk, just good, olâ emotional sex
âą summary: as the final farewell to your soon-to-be-ex husband namjoon, you spend with him one last christmas in your parentsâ cottage far away from the city, reflecting on your life together before you will part your ways for good.
a/n: omg guys!! iâm so excited to post this, you have no idea:( iâve been working on writing this for a whole month but i had this particular fic in mind since last year so i canât believe i actually managed to finish this before christmas like i had planned. i hope you will like this. iâm sending you lots of love for the new year! xx, julia.
For how long you could remember, youâve always adored Christmas.
Thereâs something discreetly magical in this time of the year, no matter if itâs an unique aura or the fact youâre the family type of person, Christmas used to hold a special place in your heart, spread a distinctive kind of warmth in your body that made you feel calm and loved.Â
This year though, it's different. Not because the weather doesnât suit the occasion and instead of snowing, the sky is cloudy. The very reason is on your kitchen table, next to the big cardboard box youâve scribbled âxmas decorations' on in black ink. There lay neatly folded in manila folder documents, untouched for about a week since postman delivered them. Your future is inside, just above your signature. You know those papers are not going to be read through anytime soon, that the blank space next to your name will be crystal white until the very New Year. Â
You know he wonât say a word about it unless itâs necessary. He wonât plead, beg, ask for delay. Heâs accepted it. Deep down you wish he put up some fight, resisted, fell to his knees in front of you and counted all his mistakes promising it wonât happen again. But itâs your decision. And he has never denied your choice.Â
Youâve always loved Christmas. Family gatherings by the table, the smell of cinnamon in your mum's famous rolls, the colourful lights on the Christmas tree your dad never stops complaining about when heâs assigned to put them on.Â
This year however, Christmas is nothing but an unceremonious reminder that itâs going to be your last celebration spend with your soon-to-be-ex husband, Namjoon.
Statistically, the younger you get married, thereâs a higher possibility of having a divorce with your significant other. The shorter the period between engagement and wedding is, youâre most likely going to survive approximately three years as a married person. You feel like youâve never fitted into any statistics and algorithms better than now.
You were twenty one when you first met Kim Namjoon. The only thing you knew about him before seeing in person was the size of his family's wealth. Your mother told you heâs a good man, same age as you, majoring in business and economy tall, blonde fella. You, on the other hand, were just a girl in red pristine dress and uncomfortable high heels, with dreams to trivial for her parents liking. Â
The place you first met him was beautiful. A big ballroom in downtown with gleaming chandeliers, filled to the brim with people you wholeheartedly despised sipping on their Dom Perignons, a clique whose money combined together could easily build a few hospitals in Africa. You remember your mum patting you on the back, hissing to your ear to straighten, but you knew it was more an encouraging act of hers than a real reprimand. You remember your dad, laughing at something with mister Kim and from the volume and tone of his voice you knew it wasnât genuine. Â
You also remember Namjoon, good-looking and smart and so sophisticated in his manners and words he could put into shame any college jocks or obnoxious fratboys youâd met so far during your studies. Namjoon with his exquisite demeanor and handsome face that drew attention from every young lady in the ballroom. You felt small standing next to him and it wasnât just because he towered over you with his height. For the first time in your life you were in front of someone who was absolutely out of your league.
When your parents decided to leave you two alone for a while, Namjoon let out a long sigh, like some weight was lifted off his shoulders and he finally could breathe properly. He smiled at you, two cute dimples adoring his cheeks and said, ââFuck, I thought they would never leave.â gulping the rest of his champagne smoothly. Â
You remember how your eyes widened after hearing him speak informally like that, to the point it probably must have looked comical because he chuckled as soon as he saw your puzzled expression.Â
âWant to get away from here for a while? I know some place upstairs where we can talk without being watched by all those tight wads.â Namjoon asked you then.
This time, no matter how shocked you were, you manage to keep your true emotions at bay. You smiled at him, nodding. âLead the way.â Â
Namjoon seemed to know this place by heart, easily navigating through long corridors until he found what he was looking for: a large balcony with a view to the whole city. He motioned for you to come closer where he stood, leaning to the rail and fishing out of his jacket's pocket a pack of cigarettes. With one between his plush lips, he extended the rest towards you.Â
âI donât smoke.â you said curtly, probably too abrupt but he didnât notice, or simply didnât care.Â
âWell, I do,â he murmured, lighting up his cigarette and taking the first drag languidly. âDad's a heavy smoker. Heâs been telling me my whole teenage years not to be like him but here I am,â He smirked almost cynically, fuming the poison. âLike father, like son.â Â
You didnât exactly know how to react to that, choosing to stare at the city covered in darkness from a distance instead. The summer was in full bloom, night almost stuffy it made you feel hot. Your feet hurt from the uncomfortable shoes you wore and you wondered for a moment how would Namjoon react if you decided to take them off.
It was still annoyingly mute, you started thinking that maybe he was waiting for you to continue conversation somehow. Why did he even want to bother spending time with you here? Why did he want you to keep him company when you couldnât hold a proper conversation? God, you were awful at smalltalks.Â
Luckily for you, Namjoon always knew what to say.Â
âSo, Y/N,â he began, your head turning to the side to have a look at him. He was beautiful like this, you had to admit to yourself, dressed in black suit with a cigarette caught between his slender fingers and suddenly a vision of marrying him wasnât that surreal anymore like you thought at the beginning. âI know what your family business is, I know youâre the same age as me and you donât smoke,â he listed, gesturing with his occupied hand for emphasis, âbut I still donât know what youâre studying.â Â
Apparently you werenât only bad at communicating. You were also terrible at holding eye contact but Namjoon from the very start of your acquaintance didnât want to let you go that easily, keeping his gaze fixated on you the whole time. It made your cheeks blush and you prayed he didnât see that in dim lighting.Â
âI am majoring in fashion design and marketing. I want to start my own brand in the future.â you replied. Namjoon hummed, flicking his cigarette with his thumb and ring finger. âMy parents donât really like this idea. They probably wish I worked as an accountant in their firm or something,â You laughed and to your surprise, there was a smile dancing on Namjoon's lips as well, but it didnât quite reach his eyes.
âI am destined to work for my father from the moment my mother found out she was pregnant with a boy,â he said, voice laced with strange kind of melancholy you hadnât heard from him since you two met. âI will take over his business after his death and work there until I die.â Â
âWhat about your other siblings then?â you asked.â
âIâm the only child.â Â
âOh.âÂ
Namjoon chuckled. âYeah. âOh' itâs a good word to describe it.â He took one last drag off his cigarette and discarded it carelessly somewhere on the floor. For a moment you thought he was reaching to his pocket for another one, but he faltered.Â
It was quiet for a few long bits of time, until Namjoon broke the silence again.
âIt looks like they want us to get married, Y/N,â he said suddenly and you nearly jumped in place hearing his deep ramble. âWhat do you think about that?â You turned to look at him, only to find his eyes already trained on you, expression smug.Â
You shrugged. âI donât have much say in this.âÂ
Namjoonâs eyebrows furrowed like he was genuinely surprised with your answer. âWhy is that? Arenât you the daughter who disobeys her parents by pursuing the career they donât want for her?â he asked almost mockingly, taking a step towards you. âYou can say no. You can dump me and find some guy who would be much better husband than me, or maybe you have someone like that already, donât you?â Â
âI donât.â You didnât even know why you needed to clarify this so fast, you could have played along and fool him, yet here you were.Â
âYou donât have a boyfriend?â he concluded. Â
You shook your head. âNo.âÂ
âWell, I donât have a girlfriend either.âÂ
You sighed. Was this out of relief or because he was now much closer than you considered appropriate for your personal space? Still staring at you with observant eyes, gaze vibrating, plush lips opening to say, âItâs kind of weird for me that you donât date anyone.âÂ
You scoffed. âI could say the same about you.â Â
âNot exactly, darling,â he disagreed, leaning his body to the railing so he's back was facing the city, head turned to the side to have a look at you. Your cheeks heated at the term of endearment he used, yet you rolled your eyes anyway. âI donât do relationships. I was never in one, in fact. But you,â he trailed off, licking his lips, âyou look like someone who has dozen of guys lined up to be your boyfriend.â Â
You were laughing. An authentic, breathy laugh that made Namjoon smile like fool and he didnât have anything in his diffence because you were just really pretty in your red dress, standing on the balcony and giggling. He wanted to tell you this the whole night, no matter how lame he probably sounded.Â
âGod, that was so cheesy,â you groaned. âThank you for your subtle compliment. You arenât so bad yourself.â Â
Maybe Namjoon was actually content too in this moment, that you didnât have anyone to come home to as well. Back then he thought it was good because it didnât complicate things more than that already were. Truth to be told, it was just a disguised excuse.Â
He didnât expect you to ask next question, yet your lips somehow formed words on their own. âIf you donât do relationships, why are you okay with marrying me?âÂ
He was so close you could count his eyelashes, you could see that little mole on his chin. You could reach and touch the sharpness of his jaw, smooth the crease between his brows that had formed after hearing what you had said.Â
âI just have a feeling it might work.â he answered simply. âWill you try making this work with me?â Â
You smiled. The thought about being wedded to someone like him at the ripe age of twenty one wasnât that scary anymore. There was a long way before you two but you were in for a ride. Because it could have been anyone, and it was just Namjoon. Just him and above all him.Â
âOnly if you promise me you will quit smoking.â you said.
Namjoon reached to his suit jacket's pocket, pulling out the pack of cigarettes and dropped it to the floor. âYour wish is my command.â Â
He didnât laugh it out, didnât make some snarky comment about you already wife-ing him up.Â
Because Kim Namjoon has never disrespected your decision.
Few months later, you got engaged. Officially, on family gathering with your closest relatives, as a symbolic agreement made between two wealths. But in reality, you and Namjoon were never the so called âtraditionalâ type of couple. He proposed to you a week earlier, after taking you out on a bike ride by the river. There was no caviar, fine wine and crĂšme brĂ»lĂ©e when you both sat together on a bench, inhaling autumn air. There was no hushed whispers and clears of throats from the family, no glass clicking to get attention because he had something important to say. No practiced speech with Shakespeareâs quotes (love is a smoke made with a fume of sighs, actually a very accurate one).
It was you, no make up and grey sweatpants and him, favourite khaki jacket and stuttered words when he took out of his pocket a pink, plastic ring, like those ones they add to candies. Just you and Namjoon, the whole world, reasons, what ifs and doubts disappeared.Â
He wanted to tell you how much he had fallen for you these past months. That he didnât believe in love from the first sight and God, yet Lord only knows how he had been a goner from the moment he laid his eyes on you in that stupid ballroom full of materialists. He wished to say he would do anything in his power to make it right, to have you call him your husband proudly while standing hand in hand in front of his future business partners, friends and family.Â
He did none of that. You didnât let him to. Â
Your lips were on his and the words will you marryâ died on his tongue when yours touched his bottom lip. You were kissing him, deep and intoxicating and he wanted this brief moment of sweet halcyon to never end. Because he was young, foolish and so in love that he could for once be egoistic enough to say the world was at his feet while you were in his arms smiling into the kiss and mumbling those stupid three-letters-long word.Â
And you said it again and again. Repeated it when you were home, pinned by his body to the wall of his old apartment while his cold fingers danced on your sides underneath a sweater. You chanted it when he stripped you bare and fuck you silly, no making it even to the bedroom because you were young, impatient and in love.Â
The wedding was in Spring. You got married when cherries started to blossom in whites and pinks. On the wall in front of you thereâs still hanging your favourite photo from that day. Your sister took it with her phone, not some photographer Namjoon's mum had hired to photoshop your faces afterwards. Itâs black and white, a little blurry and youâre laughing at something Namjoon had told you seconds before Soojin tapped the button on her phone. Â
You wonder what will happen with this picture and many others after everything will be done.Â
Sighing, you open the cardboard box with Christmas decorations. You still have a tree to carry upstairs from your basement but you donât think about it now. Normally, Namjoon would do it. But you know he will be back by the time you will be already at your sisterâs home, eating dinner.Â
You hear door lock rattling and instantly annoyance flashes through your whole body. If thatâs your mother, asking you to come home today and nag you to change your mind again, you swear youâre going to snap real hard this time. Â
But itâs not your mother. She doesnât have keys to your apartment. She doesnât own a briefcase and thatâs certainly a noise of it being thrown on the floor next to the shoe case. And she for sure doesnât sound like your own husband, greeting you during lunch hours on Christmas Day.Â
ââGod, I was held up in a traffic for an hour. If thatâs howâs it going to be for the next days, then Iâm not leaving the house,â Namjoon says, walking past you. He pours warm coffee you had made earlier into his favourite Captain America cup right away, and sighs deeply.Â
You havenât seen him in the morning. He had already left to work when you opened your eyes, which is not anything new recently. It feels like heâs avoiding you purposely after receiving divorce papers. Almost as if heâs been growing distant to give you even more reasons to end things with him for good. Â
His eyes trail from the kitchen counter to you, still holding a golden Christmas tree chain in your hands. He hums, gulping another sip of his coffee. ââOh, you brought decorations. Remind me to go for the tree to the basement later.â Â
Youâre irritated. You donât even know why. Probably because heâs so normal and casual about this. Heâs still doing all this domestic shit, keeps up appearances and acts like everythingâs totally fine. Except one thing: the lack of intimacy. He stopped calling you baby, giving you good morning kisses and goodbye hugs. He doesnât touch you anymore, barely talks about anything that isnât some topic heâd heard in news. Heâs become now the stereotypical version of husband every woman wouldnât want to have. Itâs frustrating.Â
âWhy are you home so soon?â you blurt out before you could stop yourself.Â
Namjoon places his cup in the dishwasher (he never does that and you have to remind him to do it every time) and crosses his arms over chest. âItâs Christmas and Iâm the boss. I wanted to leave early, so I did.âÂ
You hate how cynical he sounds. He says it like itâs the most obvious thing in the world, like heâs not been coming home like that every day just because he can, because heâs entitled to work young economist and businessman who gives himself days off to please his wife.
âIâm not staying here for dinner.â You donât like how formal your voice sounds. Itâs the voice you use while talking with clients on the phone. Two can play this game.Â
Something shifts in Namjoon's expression. He clears his throat awkwardly and still, the first words come out hoarsely. âYouâre not staying home for Christmas?âÂ
Home. This shared apartment bought with Namjoon's money is still yours too. Until it wonât be anymore.Â
âNo. Iâm going to Soojin's. Sheâs making a dinner for her boyfriend and his parents and she invited me as well.âÂ
You donât know why you feel like you need to explain yourself in front of him. Namjoon nods his head sheepishly. You havenât seen him look like that for a while. If anything, he looks disappointed. Something aches in your heart at the sight.
âIs something wrong?â you ask, irritation long gone and replaced with something you could mistake only with genuine concern.Â
Namjoon cracks a smile. âNo, itâs just⊠I thought we could eat here, alone. You know, since itâs our last Christmas together,â He's speaking more quietly now. Almost like heâs afraid of even approaching this topic aloud, choosing the words carefully yet they sound uncertain anyway. âMom is on Maldives right now with her new guy.â he adds after a while.
âOh.âÂ
Namjoon scratches the back of his head. âI guess I will spend some time alone, then.â He chuckles but you know itâs not an honest laugh. Namjoon loves Christmas just the way you do, though he will never admit it to anyone and the thought about him being in your own apartment probably even without Christmas tree because heâs too clumsy to decorate it himself, makes your insides clench uncomfortably.
You look at him now carefully for the first time in weeks. He doesnât look like the confident, snarky businessman he aspires to be sometimes. His hair has grown longer, his skin looks paler, there are bangs underneath his eyes and you wonder if he gets any sleep. He used to cuddle you up during night hours when insomnia kicks in, because he says your body's warmth helps him relax. He doesnât do it anymore from the day he had read the papers. He lays next you peacefully every night and even if he itches to touch you, hold you, caress you, he wonât.
Namjoon looks lost and perhaps he is, heâs been like that since his father died for lungs cancer over one year ago, leaving his business in Namjoon's hands hence he's the only heir to the empire. It was all too sudden and before you could do anything in your power to help mister Kim recover, the disease had progressed to the point of no return, taking his life away few months after he came to the hospital.Â
Namjoon hadnât smoked a cigarette since the day you asked him to quit. He broke that rule once, on his father's funeral day. You found him on the porch in front of his familyâs estate, so sad and broken and with a grey smoke swirling around his features. He was crying. You had never seen him like this before. He used to say tears were the luxury he couldnât afford.
âIâm sorry.â he said to you, voice rough and strangled because there was another wave of sobs forming in his throat.Â
âItâs okay. Thereâs nothing to apologize for,â you assured, coming up to him. He gave you the half-burnt cigarette without a word and you throw it away. âItâs going to be okay, Joon.â He crashed his body into yours, straining your black dress with sadness and grief he was always so afraid to show while you were around. You held him like that, rocked him like a baby until eventually his breathing slowed down to normal.
He put his chin on your shoulder, still hugging you tightly, like he was afraid you were going to evaporate and asked, âDo you think I will be able to do it?â
You knew he wasnât ready for that. Every twenty-something guy wouldnât be. But you believed in him like he never did in himself. You had all your hopes in him, signed your future with his name, the name of the boy who let go of his beloved addiction just because you said so. Namjoon might have been entitled to marry you but you werenât obligated to fall for him, yet you did.
Namjoon has always been the strong, monumental fortification that kept you safe in. And together youâve made home.
Placing your hands on his chest, you pushed him away slightly so you could look him in the eyes. âYou wonât be alone,â you urged firmly. âI am here. Youâve got your father's coworkers who put their faith in you.â
âWhat if I fail them? What if they donât see me as someone responsible enough to be in charge because Iâm some young shithead who had inherited this business from his father?âÂ
âThen you have to prove them youâre worth it.âÂ
âEasier said than done.âÂ
You shook your head, your palms coming up to cup his cheeks. âKim Namjoon,â you began, âIâve never given a fuck about economy but when you rant about it over dinner I find it interesting, because you can make it seem like that,â He smiled lightly and your mirrored his gesture. âAnd I know your views about business. Itâs not some liberal shit thatâs actually well disguised capitalism. You are more than that, Joon. Donât you dare ever put yourself down.âÂ
And then he was kissing you. It was more a simple smooch than anything else but it felt right to do so. To stand on your toes and capture his lips in yours. When he broke off after a moment, he placed a fleeting peck on your nose. It made you smile silly and he was smiling too, despise the situation.Â
âI love you.â Namjoon breathed out, leaning his forehead into yours.
In that particular moment, on a porch of his family's old manor, you were certain you were going to survive every storm when he was by your side.
âI love you too.âÂ
Itâs been two years since that day. A lot has changed, hell, both of you have changed. But looking at Namjoon right now you start questioning yourself again, whether this storm is worth letting the ship sink without trying to at least reach the land.Â
One last Christmas together, he said. Nothing more and nothing less beside two married people biding farewells before they part their ways for good. You owe him that much.
âYou donât have to stay here alone. We can go to that cottage my parents have. You know, the one where we spend my dad's birthday in January.âÂ
If Namjoon is surprised with your sudden statement, he hides it pretty well. His eyebrows raise with interest. âIs that okay for you? I mean, youâre already invited to your sister's and sheâs probably waiting for you, she made a whole dinner andââ
âJoon,â you cut his rambling off. Joon. You havenât called him that in a while. He smiles bashfully and you can faintly see pink tingling the apples of his cheeks. âItâs fine, really. Soojin wouldnât mind, Iâm sure of it. But, uhmââ You clear you throat awkwardly. ââwe have to buy some groceries if we want to actually eat something for the dinner.âÂ
Namjoon's brows furrow. âDo we have time to cook something for ourselves?â he asks.
You open your mouth to object but all arguments die on your tongue. Heâs right. You donât have time to do it on your own. Well, fuck, you want to say but then, an idea pops in your head.Â
âIâll take care of this.âÂ
Youâve always loved Christmas. Never had you thought about spending them with your soon-to-be-ex husband, though.
Namjoon has always been a convincing person.
You think this side of him comes from the field he works in. When youâre standing in the middle of Christmas market down your street, he analyzes the problem of buying a real Christmas tree like itâs another deal he has to sell to his future business partners, listing you all the pros and cons and transforming them into an excel chart in his head.Â
He doesnât even know why youâre here. One minute you were driving to your sister's house after dropping by grocery store, and the second you told him to pull over and wander with you through the numerous stalls with Christmas decorations.
âWhy are you so determined to buy a real Christmas tree?â Namjoon asks astonishingly.
You sigh, sending the seller in front of you an apologetic smile. Youâve been standing there with Namjoon for a few solid minutes now and you can sense the man's impatience. You shrug simply in reponse. âBecause Iâve always wanted to have one.â
âYeah, but,â Namjoon pauses when you click your tongue in irritation. Now itâs his turn to sigh. âWe are going to be in that cottage just for one night. We can take our Christmas tree from home with us and decorate it there.âÂ
Upon hearing that, you take his wrist and walk a few steps from the seller. Thatâs it, Namjoon thinks, youâre going to pull another card now. Youâve always been persistent when things you want are in the game and Namjoon is terrible at saying no to you. The evidence stands in your living room, an old Chinese vase that doesnât suit the design of the room at all but you insisted on buying it. No matter how much he tries, Namjoon canât help but fall for your pleading eyes every single time, like he did when you pursued him to spontaneously purchase plane tickets for the romantic weekend in Paris across the globe, when you asked him to quit smoking. Or when you stabbed his heart with paper dagger filled with words he will eventually sign because thatâs what you want from him.
So he wonât protest either when youâre about to buy a real Christmas tree although thereâs absolutely no need to do so.
Namjoon knows heâs been gone since the moment you attempted to puppy-eye him. Nevertheless, for the sake of hearing you trying to convince him with sweet words and maybe some PG-13 arm brushing, he tongues his cheek in faux annoyance.
âCome on, Namjoon,â You elbow him playfully instead. âDonât be like that. Weâve never had a real Christmas tree before.âÂ
And after that holidays, we will never have an occasion to buy another one together again, he wants to tell you. Itâs ridiculous how both of you still sound so normal and domestic when your marriage is yet to be terminated few days after New Year. Maybe itâs just an act you put up for audience.
âPlease?â you try once again and yes, there it is. Your hand brushes lightly his biceps.
Namjoon exhales loudly. Then, he points his index finger at the seller. âGive me the biggest one you have here.âÂ
And fifteen minutes later, youâre driving to Soojin's house with a 5â6 Christmas tree on the roof of Namjoonâs crystal black SUV.Â
Itâs awfully quiet between you two, mostly because youâve been wondering for the past ten minutes how to break the awkward silence and ease the tension. Looking through the window, you try to locate any familiar spot on the streets that could tell you how far from your sisterâs house you are. When you pass the Japanese restaurant with big koi fish in the logo, you estimate youâre up to five minutes from Soojin's.Â
âDoes she know youâre not coming for Christmas dinner?âÂ
Youâre so deep in thought you almost donât register Namjoon's talking to you. âHuh?â you mumble dumbly.Â
âI asked if you already texted Soojin you wonât be on her Christmas dinner.âÂ
In the corner of your eye you see the sports equipment shop. Three minutes to go. âNo, I didnât. I will explain her everything in person.âÂ
Namjoon nods, stopping the car at the red light. You curse in your head. One more minute longer. âDo you think she really wonât mind? Knowing your sister sheâs probably going to be pissed off youâre making a fuss in her well-planned schedule.â he says, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Maybe heâs impatient too.
Instantly, you chuckle at his words. Namjoonâs right. Your sister is a control freak. She doesnât like last minute changes and sudden cancellations. Youâre more than aware of that. But this time, you know she wonât have anything against your sudden outburst.
âHave a little faith in her, would you? Itâs Christmas.â you reply teasingly.
The light changes to orange, then to green.Â
âI really want to but I canât help but think how she almost beat the shit out of me when we both overslept that one infamous morning and you were one hour late to your branch.â
âIt was a day after we got from the honeymoon. She hadnât seen me for almost a month back then.â you point out, although not to justify her.Â
Namjoon snorts. âShe came to our apartment that morning and gave me a lecture when you were showering,â
âYeah butââ
âShe told me, Iâm quoting: âYou had a whole month to yourselves and you decided the morning I was supposed to have a branch with my sister is the best time to bangâ.âÂ
Youâre fully laughing now, cheeks red from embarrassment because apparently, Soojin was partially true back then. You did wake up that morning around eight to get ready for the meeting, but you were too distracted by the feeling of Namjoon's morning wood poking you from behind. And when you unintentionally moved your body so your ass rubbed against his stiff shaft, the groan you heard in response and a muscular arm sneaking around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest prohibited you any kind of protest.Â
Your face goes hot at the memory. And by the slight blush adoring Namjoon's cheeks, you know heâs thinking about the same thing as you.Â
He clears his throat. âSo yeah. Your little sister scares me.âÂ
The car pulls in the familiar neighborhood of akin terraced houses, the one in which Soojin lives with her boyfriend standing at the end of the street.Â
âEven though sheâs younger than me, sheâs always had in herself to protect me at all costs. She really likes you though, Namjoon. She did from the very beginning. It was just her weird way of keeping things in control.â you say and that effectively puts and end to the conversation.
Namjoon's SUV stops in front of the gate and you see him smiling in the corner of your eye. âI know,â he breathes out. âDonât be there for too long. We still have a Christmas tree to decorate later.â
You donât know why youâre beaming like a teenage girl when you slam the door behind yourself and walk to your sisterâs house.
Soojin, as Namjoon has predicted, is displeased. But apart from everything else, sheâs mostly confused, standing in front of you in yellow apron with hands on her hips and raised eyebrows.
âWhat the hell are you doing here already, Y/N?âÂ
You sigh loudly, taking off your coat and stepping off your boots. You feel your younger sisterâs eyes piercing through your scull yet you donât falter. Straightening your back, you greet her, âHello to you too, Soojin-ah.â You hear her scoff in response.Â
âHi, Y/N! Whatâs up?â Taehyung, Soojin's dear boyfriend shouts from the living room. Heâs sitting on their couch, fumbling with Christmas tree lights and probably trying to find the faulty one among ninety-nine others working.
âHi, Tae. Everythingâs peachy.â you answer him and the man sends you his signature boxy grin in response.Â
Soojin crosses her arms over chest. âPeachy? Then why are you here so early? I told you we start at seven.âÂ
âYeah, about the dinner. We need to talk.âÂ
She narrows her eyes but cocks her head at you to follow after her to the kitchen anyway. Thereâs quite a mess going on here and from the smell of the pastry lying on the counter you assume sheâs making your mum's cinnamon rolls.
âSo,â she begins, taking off her apron. âTalk.âÂ
âAre those cinnamon rolls from mum's recipe?â you quip, trying to avoid her persistent stare.
âY/N, we are not here to talk about food,â Soojin warns but when she sees you extending your hand towards the plate where warm, already made ones lay, her gaze softens. âI changed the recipe a little bit to make it vegan. For Taehyung.â The corners of her mouth lift up slightly at the mention of her boyfriend.
Taking the first bite of the roll, you hum between chews, âTastes good. Like the non-vegan ones.âÂ
âI guess I made a good job then,â Soojin laughs. âBut seriously though, Y/N, donât play coy right now. I saw Namjoon's car on the driveway. Has he signed the papers yet?â she asks.
âNope.â you respond, emphasizing the âp'.Â
âIs you being here has something to do with him?âÂ
âKind of.âÂ
You look up to meet her eyes and thatâs your first mistake because Soojin has something in them that makes you reveal every secret you hide right on the spot. It has always been like this between the two of you, you coming to your two years younger sister to talk instead the other way round. Â You still admire it in her, the determination and persistence she has. You were the parentâs favourite child from the very beginning and Soojin knowing that, was determined to do everything they would have never wanted for her. She graduated college with degree in journalism and writes to the local newspaper, at the same time saving money to publish her own novel in the future.Â
Your parents bitterly accepted it, just like your future career path, but they werenât going to let her be that easily, arranging a meeting with possible husband-to-be a year after you got married to Namjoon. Little did they know she had been already madly in love with Kim Taehyung, the photographer who she met on an internship. And instead of going on a date with Park's youngest son, she proudly sent your parents a picture of her and Taehyung with a caption âsry im taken' like she was responding to some horny man on Instagram.
You never keep anything from her. She was the first person you told you were in love with Namjoon and she was the first one to know you want a divorce.Â
âIt is about the divorce papers, isnât it? He doesnât agree to split up? Is he making any difficulties?â Soojin asks question after question, and you shake your head.Â
âItâs not that. He will sigh them eventually, I know this.âÂ
Your sister purses her lips. âOf course he will because he loves you,â she says matter-of-factly. You bite your lips so hard you might draw blood. âDo you want to know what I really think about this whole situation?â You nod hesitantly. âI think youâre making a big mistake here, sis, divorcing Namjoon. And have in mind that I am the one telling you this.â She points her index finger at herself for emphasis. âWhen you told me about that I was more confused than anything else because who the fuck would want to divorce someone like Namjoon. I wouldnât.âÂ
âMe neither!â You hear Taehyung shouting from the living room.
âShut up, Tae, itâs ladies talk! Donât listen!â Soojin shouts back. Her boyfriendâs giggle echoes through the house. âAnyway, back to my point. I know it doesnât always seem like that but I like Namjoon, despite all the banter between the two of us. Heâs a good guy and Iâm sure he would never hurt you. Thatâs why it came as a shock to me.âÂ
You donât even know how to answer her. Because quite literally, you arenât so determined about your decision anymore, as you had been just weeks ago. You feel like youâre doing the right thing yet at the same time you canât help but question your motives. You came here for Christmas food, for fuck's sake, and now youâre having a free therapy session with your little sister.
Last months, of course, has been tough. Namjoon's firm had its first crisis since heâs become the CEO. He was spending most of his daytime at work, sometimes he was at the office even during the night hours, and at some point your shared life at home started lacking of intimacy and affection it'd had before. It felt cold to come back to an empty house and it didnât use to be like that.
At the same time, your own business began blowing out. More and more people were buying clothes from your online shop and you started thinking for real about opening your own atelier in the city. And ironically, your biggest dream, the thing Namjoon had always supported you in, was the cause of your huge argument that lead to the situation youâre currently in.
It was two months ago. You remember your personal assistant Jisoo calling you and rambling incoherently through the phone. You were only able to make out âagreed to rentâ but that was enough information for you. The developer let you make a studio in the place you had chosen, the place you knew was the best destination possible for not huge amount of money. In that moment, you were on cloud nine.Â
You remember Namjoon coming home late as usual that evening. You had already prepared a celebratory dinner, bought your favourite wine, lighted up some candles to make it even more cheesy but it didnât matter because you couldnât even recall when was the last time you both spent your time like this. Alone, all to yourselves.
Hearing the jingle of the keys you rushed to the door, wrapping your arms around his neck as soon as he closed them behind himself. He stiffened at your touch but you ignored it, hugging him tightly. Sensing his discomfort, you pulled off, looking at him with a grin plastered on your face.Â
You were too lost in your own excitement to notice how sad Namjoon looked. âI did it!â you blurted out. âNamjoon, I did it! The developer said yes. I can start arranging my own atelier!â
You saw a faint smile on his lips, however it didnât reach his eyes at all. He sighed and when he spoke after, his voice sounded weary. âCongratulations.â He wasnât excited like you. There was no trace of a man in him who told you to go after your dreams no matter what. Heâs eyes looked shallow.
Your brows furrowed. You instantly felt irritation bubbling in your throat. âThatâs it? You donât have anything more to say?â you snorted.
âIâm happy for you, Y/N. Really.âÂ
You rolled your eyes. âYeah. You look so ecstatic,â you said, voice laced with sarcasm.
At that, Namjoon seemed to have lost his control as well. He bit the inside of his cheek before scoffing, âWhat do you want me to say, Y/N? Should I dance on the table? Open the door to balcony and shout out my immense happiness to the whole neighborhood?âÂ
You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. âI just expected more support from my own, beloved husband. Thatâs it.â
Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. âListen, Y/N. I really donât want to argue. I had a bad day at work, a whole week actually, and I just want to spend some time alone.â He stormed off the hallway, walking into your shared bedroom.
âDonât turn your back on me right now, Kim Namjoon!â you shouted after him,  entering the room as well. âWe arenât done yet.âÂ
Namjoon practically threw his suitcase on the desk, turning to face you abruptly. âI am done.âÂ
âEveryone has bad days. Me too. You arenât the only one struggling here, Namjoon. It doesnât give you the right to act like that.âÂ
Upon hearing that, he chuckled darkly. You saw him gnawing his bottom lip, as if he was debating if he should say what he was going to. âYouâre right. Everyone has shitty days. But for your information, mine was the worst since Iâve started running this fucking business. Do you know what happened?â he asked. âOur main investor retreated his shares from the project. Do you have an idea how much is that? 20 fucking percent. Thatâs a lot of money when thereâs a crisis on the stock market and inside the firm as well. So excuse me, Y/N, but I have too much on my own mind to care about your stupid shop.â He slumped down on his chair and rubbed his temples.
You stared at him, trying to fight back the tears trying to spill from your eyes. You didnât want to break down in front of him. This was your day. You were supposed to celebrate, not cry because your husband acted like an absolute asshole. Yet the tears started rolling down your cheeks involuntarily.
âIâm sorry.â you uttered, exiting the room.
Namjoon looked up, catching the glimpse of your expression and that was the moment he realised his mistake. He stood up and ran after you. âY/N, wait! I didnât mean it like that, shit!âÂ
You stopped in your tracks to face him. You were fully crying right now and something in Namjoon's chest tightened at the sight. âDonât say anything, Namjoon. I get it. Your business is more important than my stupid shop. Itâs fine, really.â You sniffed, wiping the smudges of mascara underneath your eyes.
Namjoon put his hand on your arm but when he saw you flinch, he withdrew. âOf course you are important, baby.â he said quietly and another fresh wave of tears streamed down your face when you heard him use his favorite term of endearment for you.
âBut it doesnât look like I am anymore, Namjoon. And thatâs the problem.â you uttered brokenly. âI think we should take a break from each other. Itâs not healthly for us being together now.âÂ
Namjoon looked anywhere but at you. âIf thatâs what you want.âÂ
You nodded. âYeah. It is.âÂ
The break lasted two weeks. You spent some time at Soojin's, travelled to Japan. And when you came back you home you bitterly realised nothing really had changed. Namjoon picked you up at the airport, took you for dinner to your favourite restaurant and back home fucked you so hard and unforgiving you couldnât remember your own name anymore. He said he missed you and counted days to your arrival. Missed your face, your voice, your pussy wrapped around his cock. You climaxed with his name on your lips and with a promise for a new tomorrow that eventually didnât come because the reality kicked in sooner than you had expected.
âDonât you think it was a little bit impulsive of you to file for divorce?â Soojin asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. And you hate your little sister so much because she might be right. Youâre definitely far from being all-out and determined about everything. âYou know I will be always by your side, Y/N. Itâs only your decision to make.â she adds after a moment, reaching to squeeze your hand.
âI know,â you sigh, reciprocating the gesture. âThatâs why I need you to do me a favor.âÂ
âIâm all ears.âÂ
You take a deep breath before explaining your initial motives. âFirst of all, I wonât be at your Christmas dinner. Stop glaring at me like that!â you wail, seeing her expression.Â
âBabe, do you know whereââ Taehyung starts, entering the kitchen but heâs quickly cut off by his girlfriend.
âShe wonât be at the dinner!â Soojin points her finger at you accusingly while Taehyung tries to hide his amused smile. He probably has overheard your hushed whispers even though Soojin had asked him not to.
âOh? Why is that?âÂ
âBecause I donât want Namjoon to spend Christmas alone since heâs mother is on Maldives.â you answer.
Taehyung hums. âFancy.â
âSo youâre spending Chrismtas with Namjoon, right?â Soojin quips, making you nod.Â
âI am. And thatâs why I want to ask if you might share some of your food with me?â you hesitantly wonder and Soojin raises her eyebrows. âWe are going to our parentsâ cottage and we donât have time to cook for ourselves.â you explain. She eyes you carefully and you know itâs seconds till she softens. âPlease?â
Taehyung nudges her side. âCome on, babe. Let them eat something delicious before they eventually fuck as a final goodbye.â
âTaehyung, thatâs not funny!â Soojin protests but her boyfriend only giggles in response. Thereâs a small smile dancing on your lips and when she locks her eyes with you, she reciprocates it. âOkay, fine. What do you need?âÂ
âWhat do you have?â you ask.
Soojin gestures for you to come closer to the kitchen counter and opens the fridge. ââI've already made bulgogi for Taehyungâs parents so I can give some of it to you. I also cooked kimchi and sweet potatoes. Oh, and those vegan cinnamon rolls. I will pack you a few.â she lists, while taking out the clean food containers from the cupboard.
âThank you so much.â you breathe out.
âNo big deal,â Taehyung assures, sending you a wink. âAlthough Iâm a little bit sad you wonât come for the dinner. Maybe you should just take Namjoon here.â he suggests.
You shake your head. âNo, we should spend some time alone, talk through some things and⊠stuff.â you trail off.
Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. âAnd stuff,âÂ
âJesus Christ, Â Taehyung, let them be!â Soojin grumbles, packing the last container into a paper bag and handing it to you. âYou owe me something huge for this.â she mumbles but you know sheâs just bickering with you. Taehyung hugs her waist tightly from behind, placing his chin on her shoulder and you can help but coo at them.
âOnce again, thank you for saving my ass. I gotta go now. Namjoon's waiting.â you say.
âI will walk you to the door,â Soojin proposes, unwrapping herself from Taehyung's arms.
âBye, Taehyung. Merry Christmas!â You wave at him.
âBye, Y/N, Merry Christmas! Say hi from me to Namjoon. Oh, and remember: use protectâouch!â His words die on his tongue when heâs effectively nudged into his stomach with Soojin's elbow.Â
Giggling under your breath, you shuffle into the hallway. You could sense your sister's eyes on your back while youâre putting on your coat and the moment you turn around, you find her staring at you with puzzled expression.
She sighs before saying, âY/N, youâre my sister and you know I want the best for you and I will always support your decisionsâdonât roll your eyes! Iâm having an emotional speech right now,â she huffs, coming up to give you an affectionate hug. âJust please, promise me you wonât do anything reckless or stupid.â she mumbles into the material of your coat.Â
You shut your eyes tightly. âI promise.âÂ
Soojin clears her throat and pulls away. She looks like she wants to say something more but chooses not to. Youâre thankful for that. âBye, big sis.â she says.
You smile. âBye, kid.âÂ
You make your way to the car quickly, apologies already on your tongue when you shut the door behind you. âIâm sorry you had to wait so long.âÂ
Namjoon shakes his head. âItâs fine,â he assures. âHow did Soojin's interrogation go?âÂ
âSurprisingly smoothly,â you answer. Smooth is an exaggeration here. It was bumby, with a lot of twists and turns but you made it through with even more conflicted mind and a bag full of food. âShe gave me bulgogi.â you add, knowing pretty well what kind of reaction would it elite in Namjoon.
âGod, please donât say things like that. We still have some time before the dinner and Iâm already salivating.âÂ
âLetâs go then.â
Itâs been quite some time since youâve been in your parents' holiday cottage.Â
You didnât have time to visist it during summer since you were too busy with setting up your own showroom in Seoul and Namjoon⊠Namjoon was always too caught up in work to have a free weekend. So the last time youâve had a chance to spend time in their cottage was almost one year ago, in January, on your dad's 52th birthday.Â
The road to the cottage takes about thirty minutes from the city. Itâs situated near the small lake, hidden in a valley surrounded by forests from every side. Youâve always found the place charming and beautiful, ever since you were little with Soojin, when your parents decided to buy land there and built a small house on it.Â
Your parents visist the cottage regularly, checking out and looking after everything. You had your eighteenth birthday party there. And your bachelorette night was also held there.Â
Youâre halfway through the distance when Namjoon decides to play some music.Â
He turns on the radio connected to his spotify account and puts it on shuffle. When the first tunes of the song start playing, your face instantly flushes in pink.
Itâs one of the songs you both included in your âsexy times' playlist as you jockingly named it back then when you lived in Namjoon's old apartment with walls too thin to properly mute the sounds of your moans and whimpers of pleasure which were by any means subtle while Namjoon was having his way with you during late hours of the night.
In the corner of your eye you see that Namjoon is as flustered as you are, quickly reaching to change the song but you stop him. âDon't!â He falters. Fucking hell, why did you say it so abruptly? Your blush deepens. âLeave it, please.â So he does.Â
Itâs a sensual melody, one of your favorite songs in general but youâve never actually played it for yourself since you moved out from that apartment. It brings too many memories because if anything, sex with Namjoon has never been unsatisfactory and plain vanilla. Heâs never left you unsatiate and thinking about those lustful moments makes you squirm in your seat, familiar butterflies flattering in your lower stomach.Â
And from the clench of Namjoon's jaw and his tight grip on a steering wheel, you know he thinks about the same things as you do.
You wonder what flashes behind his eyelids now, because for you, itâs always him hovering above you, chest sweaty and heaving with every ragged breath he takes as he fucks you deep and with purpose. Heâs rough but you like him that way, when he loses himself in you. Itâs his hand on your throat, on your hips, bruising as he takes you from behind; marred in red skin on your asscheeks when you havenât been behaving good enough.Â
Itâs him between your thighs, lavishing your cunt with his tongue until you're writhing and begging him to stop but he never listens, bringing you to immense ecstasy until tears well in your eyes and your voice is hoarse from screaming.Â
Itâs his hushed whispers in your ears leaving you bothered and breathless when youâre on some public event together, flithly promises heâs going to fulfill once you're home because the waiter was too flirty and you smiled at him too courteously.Â
Itâs him standing above you, pulling the belt from the loops until it lands on the floor along with his pants and you on your knees, taking his cock in your mouth to please him the best you could. Itâs his fingers tangled in your hair, praising words on his lips because youâre such a good girl, always so good for me.
Itâs Namjoon and his hands placed securely on your waist, chest flushed to your back when he spoons your spent body after another round of love making. Itâs his soothing and calming voice in your ears when you drift off to sleep with his love confessions and gentle touches on your bare skin.
Itâs him and youâre scared it will always be only him. The song changes into another and you hope he doesnât hear the shaky breath you let out. You don't say anything else for the rest of the ride.
âAnd here we are.â Â
A thirty minutes long ride has never been more drawn-out than now. Exiting the car, you promise yourself youâre gonna do everything in your power to make this twenty-four hours bearable and not as awkward as your drive here was. Â
Once the car is parked, Namjoon opens the trunk and takes out your bags from it along with the cardboard box with Christmas decorations. You scurry to help him but he sends you back with a small smile. âItâs okay. Go and open the door, Iâll get this.â Â
Inside the cottage youâre immediately met with chilly air so the first thing you do after putting Christmas food from Soojin on the kitchen counter is taking care of the fireplace. Itâs a new addition to the living room's design, your parents new investment in biofuel energy, or something. Â
Glancing through the window, you see Namjoon carrying the Christmas tree into the house and soon itâs standing right in the middle of the room in its full glory. Â
Namjoon claps his hands. âLetâs do it, shall we?â he asks, reaching to the cardboard box and pulling out the first item that caught his attention: a golden, glass bauble. But before he could hang it on the tree, it slips from his hands and lands on the floor, shattered into pieces. Â
âShit,â Namjoon mutters, crunching down to pick up the mess heâs made.
âDonât touch it, youâll cut yourself!â Â
He stops abruptly and you can clearly distinguish the redness on his cheeks. âYeah, youâre probably right.â he says sheepishly.
âWe should start with the lights,â You take them out from the box and start to untangle. âOkay?â
Thereâs a small smile on Namjoon lips when he nods his head and helps you put them on the tree. Half an hour later, your collaborative job on decorating the Christmas tree is almost done. The final touch is the golden star youâre trying to attach to the tip without success, until you feel a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist and lifting you up. Â
You let out a surprised squeak at that, putting the star quickly on itâs right place. Once your feet touch the floor, you turn around just to be met with Namjoon smiling down at you softly. âGood job,â he comments, pointing at the tree. If he sees your flustered state, he doesnât let you feel it. âWe should prepare for the dinner. Itâs getting late.â he adds and before you could say anything else, he exits the room and disappears in the hallway. Â
âY/N?â Namjoon calls out, entering the kitchen. You whip your head to look at him and canât help but stare. Heâs wearing a plain, blue button-up shirt which sleeves are rolled up and revealing his forearms. He must have taken a shower because his honey blond hair still looks a little bit damp at the roots and when he comes closer to you, you feel the unmistakable musk of his cologne. Itâs still the same one he uses after you bought him it some time ago. Â
âYes?â Â
Youâre dressed in red just like you were three years ago when you first met in that damned ballroom and itâs really ironic, he thinks. Your probably last civilised meeting being like this, a celebratory Christmas dinner made by your sister in a holiday cottage away from the town. Â
Whatever he wanted to ask you dies on his tongue the moment he hears your phone buzzing on the counter, your mum's contact number popping up on the screen. Â
You exhale loudly. âGod have mercy,â you mutter, picking up the phone. âYes, mom?â you say and instantly roll your eyes at the sound of your motherâs rambling from the othe side. We'll talk later, you mouth to him, leaving the kitchen.
Namjoon curses under his breath and against every fiber of his being, he takes a few step closer to where you stand in the hallway, staring out of the window, back facing him. Â
âNo, mom, Iâm not at Soojin's,â you say to the phone. âIâm with Namjoon. We are having a Christmas dinner at your cottage.â Â
Youâre silent for a moment, listening to whatever your mum is telling you but Namjoon, even in the dim lighting illuminating from the living room could see youâre tense.
âOn Maldives,â you answer. She has probably asked you about his mother, as he supposes. âMom, I told you to stop asking me this. Itâs not your decision to make.â Â
You take a deep breath before adding, âItâs Christmas. I donât want to talk about this right now, please.â He knows what you mean by âthisâ. He doesnât want to think about what future is going to bring either. Â
Your mother can be too much sometimes and he knows it. Heâs stood up and defended you in front of her more than once. Responded cleverly and calmly to her every question about kids. And when she met him for a coffee to talk about the divorce, he simply said he didnât plan to get you in the way, which probably wasnât the answer sheâd wanted to hear.
âOkay,â you breathe out, nodding. âLove you. Tell dad I love him too. Bye.â Â
You hung up with a sigh.
Namjoon quickly shuffles to the living room, fishing out his phone and pretending heâs been scrolling through it the whole time. When you enter the room, heâs eyes look up at you. Â
âHow was it?â he asks matter-of-factly.
âYou know how my mother is sometimes,â you trail off.
âYeah,â Namjoon nods. ââToo much.â Â
You smile and Namjoon could actually seen in you right now the girl heâs fallen in love with three years ago. You glance at the clock hanging on the wall and say, âI think we can begin.â Â
âDo the honors.âÂ
The dinner has gone by smoothly. You felt normal, like nothing ever happened and you start wondering if Namjoon isnât doing all of this just for old times sake. He canât be, another voice in your head is saying, he isnât doing anything extraordinary for him: heâs just him, the same guy who proposed to you with plastic ring and quit his beloved addiction so you could agree to marrying him.
Youâre sitting on a couch right now, your favourite Christmas movie (itâs Holiday; your love for Jude Law has never died down since you were a teenager) playing in the background. It was your silly tradition, to watch them every year like those basic couples do. You both know by heart the âto me youâre perfect' scene from Love Actually and it never fails to make you laugh when Namjoon recites the lines so dramatically. Â
Youâre sitting so close to him you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, your shoulders brushing with every breath or chuckle he lets out and you find yourself wanting to lean into him more. You wish he wrapped his arm around you, pulled you closer, kissed you on the temple and assured everything would be perfectly fine. But it isnât.
Nicole Kidman has already landed in Los Angeles when you feel Namjoon shifting next you. He takes something out of his pants' pocket, nudging your side in process so you peek at him. You know he wants to say something but doesnât have an idea how to start, youâve been with him too long not to recognize the way he wets his lips and rubs his hands on his thighs as the sign of his nervousness. Which makes you jittery as well.
When he finally decides to shoot, Cameron Diaz meets drunk Jude Law for the first time. Â
âY/N?â he says to get your attention because he doesnât know youâve been more than aware this whole time. Â
âYes?â Â
Youâre breathless and you donât even know why. Itâs Namjoon, for Godâs sake, your own husband, who wonât be one soon, the voice in your head adds. Â
âI know we agreed on not giving gifts to each other for Christmas but this isnât actually a gift. I mean⊠It was a gift once but now it kinda isnât so technically Iâm not breaking an agreement,â He's rumbling. A sight heâs definitely on edge.
Before you could stop yourself, you place your hand on his thigh. Itâs a gentle manner, an affectionate touch meant to soothe his nerves. He raises his eyebrows at that, staring at your hand absentmindedly tracking patterns on his leg. You withdraw your hand awkwardly.
Your gaze lands on Namjoon's palm. Heâs clutching something in his fist. With a deep exhale he opens it and then you see it: the charm you lost some time ago and havenât found till now. Â
Itâs a simple, cheesy infinity sign, a gift from him to you. He decided to give it to you this when he saw the bracelet on your wrist and ask you whatâs the story behind it, so you told him. Your parents gifted the piece of jewelry to you on your 18th birthday. Then they, including Soojin, bought you charms to complete it. A clover from your dad, a heart from your mum and a star from your sister. And a few days after you shared this with Namjoon, the infinity sign has found its place on the bracelet.
One day you realised the piece he gave you is missing. You searched through the whole house but you couldnât find it. Ironically, everything seemed to crumble down from the moment you had lost it. And here it lies now, on Namjoon's open palm.
âCleaning lady found it in my office. It was underneath my desk.â Â
âI donât know what to say,â you blurt out.
âItâs okay, you donât need to say anything. You can wear it or not, I just wanted you to have it back.â Â
He lays the charm on your palm and for a brief moment you hesitate before asking him, âCan youâ?â gesturing to your wrist. Â
âSure.â Â
He attaches the piece to your bracelet in itâs former, rightful place and thereâs a soft smile dancing on his lips. Itâs laced with melancholy, making your insides clench uncomfortably. On the screen Graham and Amanda make out and you know thereâs something heavy in the air, unspoken words and conversation you should hold but donât know how to start.
Itâs Namjoon who takes the mattress into his own hands this time.
âDo you think we could be friends after all of this will be done?â Â
The question surprises you. You donât have a clever answer for that because the future is always uncertain. You donât even know if youâre making a right decision. You just believe you do.
Maybe joking isnât the best thing to do now but itâs your shitty defence mechanism against facing the true. You decide to play it cool. âI donât know about us but Iâm sure my dad wonât stop inviting you to play chess with him.â You chuckle.
It doesnât seem to amuse Namjoon much, his smile doesnât reach his eyes. You clear your throat, avoiding his persistent gaze. That certainly hasnât been a good thing to say to ease the tension. Â
âYour mum insisted me for a coffee two weeks ago. To talk.â he says suddenly.
You purse your lips. âWhat did you talk about?â Â
âAbout us. About the divorce,â The movie is playing in the background but you donât pay attention to it anymore. Whatâs the most crucial is right here in front of you, in the person of your future ex husband. âShe asked me to convince you not to do it. Said youâre irrational and mentioned something about you always making important decisions hastily.â Â
You roll your eyes. This is so typical of your mother to say something like that. âAnd what did you say to her?â you ask, afraid of his answer. Â
âThat itâs only your choice to make and Iâm not going to stop you if thatâs what you want.â Â
Your breath hitches. Some part of you really wants him to put up a fight. You spent countless hours wondering why isnât he doing that until it finally hits you like a whiplash: Namjoon has never, ever in his life disrespected your decision. He might not be on the same page as you but he will never beg you to change your mind. Thatâs his manifest of the love he has for you.
âNamjoonââ you begin but you donât even know what youâre going to say to that. Fortunately, he cuts you off.
âDonât pity me right now, Y/N. Let me talk, please.â He's never addressed the divorce directly and even if youâve been dying these past weeks to find out whatâs on his mind, right now, sitting in front of him when youâre both vulnerable, you arenât sure of anything. âWhen I read that papers for the first time I thought it's some kind of a cruel joke, you know? But then the seriousness of this hit me and I was like: fuck, itâs really happening, isnât it?â he says, chuckling bitterly to himself. âI knew it was bad but I hoped that we could figure it out together somehow and the sun will rise again as it always does after the storm. But I guess I was wrong.â Â
He pauses and you looks down at his hands. Theyâre shaking and you fight an urge to take them into yours. âSo at first, I was mad at you. I was so, so angry I couldnât even think straight and I started blaming you for this. I bought a pack of cigarettes and lighted up one but I never finished it. I threw the whole pack into the trash can.â He lets out a long sigh. Youâre feeling like the whole air has been sucked out of this room, your heart racing with anticipation of his next words. Â
âA part of me wanted to pick the sword and fight. But then, one night a few days after I read the papers, I was in my office. I sat there staring at the wall and thinking through everything. And that was when I decided itâs all my fault we are in this kind of situation. You laid it all in front me and I still couldnât fucking believe I am the problem.â Â
Youâre shaking your head because no, itâs not like this, it isnât only his doing, but he doesnât let you speak. âYouâre so special, Y/N. You make the world revolve around you. I envy you,â Namjoon says, making you furrow your brows in confusion. âYouâre pursuing your dreams and you managed to do all of this on your own. There was no family business you were destined to run like I am. All I do is sit in my fatherâs chair and try not to fuck up everything heâs built so far. And you, Y/N,â He faces you fully, staring at you with so much love and adoration you want to look away. But you canât. âYouâre so much more than this. And now I know I was just holding you back. But I love you enough to let you go.â Â
Youâre loss for words. Before Namjoon could register what is happening, your hands are on his cheeks and youâre kissing him. Â
Youâre kissing him until you lose you breath, until you both canât think straight and youâre drinking from each otherâs mouths like youâve been thristing for it for years. Namjoon tastes like the red wine you drank earlier and something only akin to him. Â
Heâs surprised at first, not really comprehending itâs your mouth slotted over his, your breath mingling with his. It takes a sharp intake of air from you to him to sprang into action. He kisses you fiercely, like heâs been dying and your lips where the only cure which could heal him. He sighs into your mouth like heâs finally feeling relieved. Like youâre his savior. Â
When his hands find purchase on your waist, you feel like youâre grounded after floating in the air for so long. Kissing Namjoon feels like home and youâre scared you will never going to experience this kind of halcyon ever again. Â
Itâs Namjoon who breaks off the kiss first. Heâs breathless, panting against your swollen lips and his eyes are shimmering. âGod, Y/N,â He sounds pained, like heâs holding onto the last straw of his sanity. ââPlease, let me have you one last time. I need you so bad, baby.â Â
He never begs but here he is, shaking and vulnerable, with his hands gripping you so tightly like heâs afraid youâre going to disappear the second heâll let go. Youâre nodding frantically at his words and he dives for your lips again. He doesnât ask you to use your words like he usually does when youâre both in the mood to play. Itâs raw and pure passion when he opens the seam of your mouth with his tongue, when he urges your body to lay back on the couch so he could hover over you. Â
Itâs been long, too long, since heâs seen you like this; keening when his teeth graze your throat and whimpering when he sucks the skin in between harshly and you know itâll blossom rich red the next morning. Â
Your hands move on their own accord, reaching to fumble with the buttons of his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin underneath your fingertips. When the garment pops open you canât help but run your palms over smooth expanses of Namjoon's chest, digging into every ridge and deep of the flesh so you feel him tense under your touch. Â
He detaches himself from your neck and takes off the shirt, dropping it carelessly on the floor. Sitting on his knees and straddling your waist, he looks down at you with hooded eyes. âTake of your dress,â he commands and you hurry to obey him. You missed this side of him, his deep voice that never fails to make you squirm in pleasure and anticipation of his next move. Â
You get up from the couch, pulling the zipper of your dress down and letting the material fall to the floor with light thud. You donât know why youâre suddenly feeling self-conscious, standing in front of Namjoon only in your linegerie. Heâs seen you exposed like this many times before yet something about the way his eyes roam your body makes you bite your lip. Itâs an expensive set and youâre suddenly aware he was the one who had bought you it. You wonder if he remembers that. Â
He gestures for you to come closer and with an unexpected boost of confidence you step out of the dress pooled around your ankles and move to straddle his lap. His hands immadietly find purchase on your waist and you wrap yours around his neck, leaning to kiss him.
He groans when your teeth graze his bottom lip and you feel him squeezing your sides tightly. âYouâre so beautiful,â he mumbles into your mouth, making the corners of your lips lift up in a smile. âLet me take care of you, baby.â Â
Something swells in your lower regions at that. A sheer want and crimson desire for him to claim you as his for the one last time.
Namjoon reaches to unclasp your bra but he stops with his fingers brushing just underneath the material. âCan I?â he asks gently. No matter how many times heâs fucked you, how many times he's brought you to the brick of pleasure until you were screaming, heâs always waiting for you to grant him consent first.
âYes.â Itâs the confirmation he needs to unclasp it, letting the straps fall to your shoulders and free your breasts to his wandering hands.
One of the things youâve learnt about Namjoon during years of sleeping with him is that heâs boobs man. So it doesnât come as a surprise to you when his palms engulf your mounds, squeezing them gently. Â
Soon heâs leaning closer, taking one of your nipples into the hot crevice of his mouth and bitting down on it so you let out a small noise of content. The angle is awkward but he doesnât seem to care, sucking the hardened bud until youâre writhing in his lap, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging slightly on the roots. Â
âNamjoon, please,â you whimper, feeling his fingers brushing the waistband of your panties. Youâre rubbing yourself against the bulge that has formed in his pants, needing more, always more of him because you know heâs up to please.
He pulls out from your nipple with light pop sound. âWhat do you want, baby?â he prompts; the chilly air in the room washes over your bare body and you shudder from the sensation, your core getting wetter with each passing second.
âWant you to touch me.â Â
âYeah? Want me to touch your pretty pussy with my fingers?â Â
You nod, shutting your eyes tightly when his palms find the inside of your thighs where you need him the most, where youâre throbbing with the desire for him to touch you. Â
He runs his index finger through the material of your underwear where youâre sure a wet spot has formed already. âAnswer me,â Namjoon demands and his other hand squeezes your hip harder. Thereâs a part of you wanting to play with him a little, push his strings to the point he has no choice but put you in your place, bend carelessly over his lap and make you count till he forgives. Â
But today, itâs not time for that.
You whimper. Itâs actually funny how single touch of his combined with his autorative tone can make such a mess of you in span of minutes. âJoon, please,â you moan, bucking your hips into his hand. ââTouch me with your fingers.â Â
Namjoon smirks in response. âOpen your legs wider for me, baby.â You do as youâre told, exposing yourself to him. He hums, pulling the material of your panties to the side. âFuck, youâre dripping. Is this all for me?â A part of him is disgusted for wanting you to know heâs the only one who can make you like this. Itâs ugly possessiveness but he needs you to say it. Needs you to admit it.
âAll for you. Always for you, Joonâplease,â Itâs a breathless plea on your lips that makes him dig his fingers into your wetness. He runs his long digits through your slick folds, thumb circling your clit and you mewl, biting your lip in favor to contain yourself from moaning shamelessly aloud so soon. Namjoon however doesnât like that idea. Â
âDonât hold back, baby. Let me hear you.â Â
His middle finger prods at your entrance and you gasp when he pushes it inside, immediately adding second to the mix and curling them up just right, making your walls clench around them. His thumb still abuses your sensitive nub and youâre whimpering incoherently as he toys with your pussy with practiced ease. Â
You open your eyes to look at him but his sight is solemnly focused on the way his fingers are sinking into your cunt, bringing you closer and closer to edge until you are actually feeling the coil in your lower stomach tightening. But when youâre about to cry out in pleasure, it all stops abruptly.
Namjoon withdraws his hand from your pussy, placing a small kiss on your pouty mouth briefly, as if heâs apologizing for you denied release. You watch him bring his fingers to his pillowy lips, groaning as his tongue tastes your juices.
âFuck, youâre so sweet, baby. Wanna taste your pretty pussy.â Â
Your face grows hot at his dirty words. Namjoon's filthy mouth is something that never has never failed to turn you on. He knows what to say to get you going, to make a shiver run down your spine and insides tighten.
He mannevrous your body so youâre laying back on the couch again with him hovering above you. He takes off your soiled panties and tosses it on the floor.
âSpread your legs.â Â
You oblige, revealing your dripping center to his hungry eyes. You donât even have time to shy away from his intense stare because he wastes no time and dives in, lowering himself to bury his head between your thighs. He licks the first strip up your folds and locks his clouded in lust eyes with you. You almost come right there on the spot just from the sight of his plush lips covered in your slick.
He eats you out like a man starved, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue and sucking it into his mouth obscenely loud, making you moan out  in pleasure. You arenât even holding back now, lifting your hips to chase your high but he effectively pins you down in place with his palms sprawled on your hips. Â
He laps up your slit, tongue dipping briefly inside your hole and causing more of your wetness to gush out. âFuck, I could eat you out all day. You taste so good, baby.â he groans, sinking two of his digits into you until heâs knuckle-deep, hitting your sweet spot with every scissoring movement of his fingers. Â
You cry out, lacing your fingers through his locks and tugging harsher than youâve anticipated when his tongue flicks your clit. âJoon, fuckâplease, wanna cum.â He starts pounding his fingers lewdly into you faster at that, dragging it through your velvet folds until you're writhing. âOh, God. P-please.â
âYouâre so perfect, baby. Such a good girl. Let go for me.â he murmurs against your pussy, pushing you into your upcoming release.
Your vision blurr and youâre coming undone on his fingers and tongue, breathing heavily. Namjoon doesnât stop though. He wraps his lips around your abused clit again, lapping your wetness greedily until youâre shaking from oversensitivity.
âN-namjoonâstop, I canât,â you whine, shaking your head. Tears well in your eyes, hands fisting by your sides.
But Namjoon's doesnât listen to your pleading cries. Heâs ravenous and loves seeing you desperate like this more than anything. âGive me another one, baby. I know you can,â he breaths out. âShow me this pussy belongs to me.â
His onslaught on your cunt and crude words push you over the edge for the second time and youâre spilling all over his mouth again, screaming out his name. Â
He waits for you to calm down from your high, rubbing soothing circles on your sides. When you finally open your eyes, you see him smiling down at you, lips and chin covered in your juices he messily wipes with the back of his hand. He leans to kiss you, tongue lacing with yours until youâre tasting yourself on it. He swallows your moans, reaching to fumble with his belt buckle.
Pulling back from the kiss, he stands up to discard the rest of his clothes on the floor. You can see him in his full glory now. You take him in, from his neck and collarbones, through the taunt muscles of his abdomen and prominent v line to the trimmed hairline where you see his cock, hard and leaking precum against his stomach. Your mouth salivates at the sight.
He crawls over you, pumping himself as his eyes roam your nude, pliable body. Your hand stretches to replace his with your own and he lets you do it. Â Smearing his creamy release all over his length, you keep stroking him like this. Namjoon groans at that, throwing his head back. Â
You sit up on your knees but before you could take him into your mouth, he stops you. âAs much as I want to see you with my cock in your pretty mouth, I need to be inside you now.â Buds of sweat dribble down his forehead and you know heâs holding himself back from flipping you on your stomach and fucking you into next week.
You scoot back and lay yourself, watching as he runs the tip of his dick through your dripping slit. He hisses at the sensation, looking up at you, pupils blown out with lust. âBeg for it, Y/N,â he says, voice deepening. âI want to hear you begging for my cock.â
âPlease, Joon,â you mewl, moaning when his tip taps your clit.
He doesnât seem to be satisfied with your answer, biting the inside of his cheek. âPlease, what?â He leans closer, until his forehead is touching yours. âSay it.â he demands.
âPlease, fuck me,â Your palms cup his cheeks, breath fanning over his parted mouth. Itâs pure desire mixed with desperation when you utter your next words. âFuck me so hard I canât think straight, make me forget all of this. Please, Namjoon.â Â
He doesnât need to hear anything more. He pushes himself inside you until heâs buried to the brim; your warm, wet walls letting him slide into you easily. You gasp, eyes squeezing shut.
âShit,â Namjoon curses, closing his eyes as well. His face confronts in both pleasure in pain and you know heâs trying hard no to pound into you. He waits few bits of ragged breaths for you to adjust and starts moving. The first drag of his cock through your walls sends you into frenzy and you moan wantonly when he hits you right there when you want him the most. âYouâre so tight, baby. So good, just for me, yeah?â he slurs, picking up his pace. Â
You nod, lips choking out, âJust for you.â and eyes rolling back in pleasure.
He groans at your words, hands fighting purchase on either sides of your head. You feel so fucking full, his cock plunging into you faster and faster with each passing second. His eyes dip down where his body ends and yours begin, watching himself disappear into your cunt. Â
âGod, Iâm gonna miss this so fucking much,â he blurts out before he could stop himself, in a moment of careless ecstasy heâs delivering to the both of you. It slips from his lips roughly and hits you right in the guts but you canât let yourself dwell in this. Not now. Â
Now itâs just you and him fucking you into oblivion youâre oh so much craving.
His face falls to the crook of your neck, kissing, biting and sucking every inch of skin he could find as if heâs trying to embed his mark on you forever. Like he foolishly thinks youâll stay his and only his after all of this will be done.
Namjoon speeds up, thrusting his dick into you in what seems as an animalistic pace now, hammering into your sweet spot with every slam of his hips, making you see stars behind your closed eyelids. He lift up his head to stare at your face.
âLook at me, baby,â he murmurs, engulfing your cheek in his palm. His thumb traces your bottom lip, your eyes snapping open at his command. Your tongue laps at his finger until he pushes it inside your mouth, groaning when he feels you sucking on it. âYouâre so fucking beautiful like this, so hotâfuck. You take me so well.â he nothing but growls, sliding his hand from your face down your body, until it reaches the apex of your thighs.
Fingers finding your clit, he smirks when he hears you moan his name. âYou like that?â he asks, voice sounding almost mocking but youâre keening, nodding frantically. âWant me to make you cum?â Â
âYes, yes! P-please, Joonie,â Â
âI got you, baby. Come for me.â Â
Youâre orgasming the third time this night, even harder than before, clutching onto his arms like theyâre your lifeline. He fucks you through this, pushing you past the uncomfortable oversensitivity. You feel his hips loosening their rhythm, thrusting into you sloppily and chasing his own high.
He drops his forehead onto yours, lips hovering inches from kissing yours. âI love you so fucking much,â he chockes out and you feel something wet staining your cheek. Looking up, you find him staring at you with the same kind of fondness heâs been giving you during these past years. Itâs Namjoon, your Namjoon whoâs never disrespected your choice, who always gives you the part of himself heâs afraid to show to the whole world.
Before you could register whatâs happening, youâre sobbing into his mouth, âI love you too,â and kissing him to the point youâre both breathless. You feel his dick twitch and then heâs spilling inside you, coating your walls with his seed in white.
You stay like that for a while, basking in post-orgasmic bliss. Youâre rubbing soothing touches on Namjoon's back till he eventually pulls out from you. His cum dribbles down your thighs and you wince when you feel him cleaning you up with your ruined panties. Then, Namjoon puts on his boxers and helps you wear his dress shirt and button it up.
He picks you up from the couch without a word and carries to the bedroom. He lays you down onto the mattress, taking his place behind you. He throws the comforter over your bare bodies, snuggling closer to your back. You feel his breath on your neck, warm and comforting.
He places a small kiss on your shoulder and exhales shakily. âYouâre the best thing that have ever happened to me, Y/N,â he whispers hoarsely. âIâm gonna miss you so much.â Â
You donât answer him because youâre afraid of what you might say. Your throat constricts and tears involuntarily spill from your eyes, coating your cheeks in wetness. Namjoon's arm tightens around you and for the first time since youâve given him those damned papers, heâs laying next to you like this, chest pressed flush to your back.
When his breath slows down after a while, you let yourself cry to sleep. You dream about a boy smoking a cigarette on a bench in front of an old manor.
Itâs the sunshine who wakes you up the next morning.
The first thing you think about his that someone has seemed to forget to shut the curtains out for the night. Itâs definitely too bright for your liking so you narrow your eyes as soon as they're met with the light. Â Blinking heavily, you realise where exactly are you. You don't remember you walls being wooden. Itâs not your apartment. Which means you're in one of the many rooms in your parents' holiday cottage. Â
Turning away from the window, youâre faced with Namjoon's bare back. He always sleeps without his shirt on, no matter how cold sometimes it can be. Heâs like a human equivalent of a heater. You observe the steady rise and fall of his body and listen to his quiet snoring. Itâs something comforting in this and you find yourself seeking his warmth. You shuffle closer to him but then you stop abruptly.
It all hits you like a tsunami.
The dinner, your talk about the divorce, heated confessions and whispered I love yous with tear strained cheeks. His body against yours as he fucked you hard and unforgiving. It was silly for you to let yourself indulge but you couldnât help but grant his one last wish. His arms around you when you were drifting off to sleep, his pained voice when he was murming sweet nothings to your ears.
And now heâs right next to you, as heâs been there forever, deep in unaware slumber where the reality of your life is nonexistent. Youâre wondering what he dreams about.
Suddenly youâre brought back in time to one morning three years ago when you were still newlyweds, still trying to get used to being tied together for life. It was one of your last mornings in Namjoonâs old apartment. After a round of passionate love making, both of you laid in each other's arms on the bed. Young, foolish and so in love youâve never wanted to leave the embrace of his firm and protective hold on your body. Â
âCan I ask you something?â Â
Namjoon hummed hearing your voice, fingers brushing your shoulders with absentminded, affectionate manner and pressing into tight knots from time to time, easing the tension. Â
You took a deep breath, your digits playing with your wedding ring underneath the sheets. âHow do you think our first big argument will look like?â you asked.
You felt Namjoon's body shaking with laughter as he hide his face in your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. âWhy are you even asking me this? Do you want me to get mad at you? Do I have a reason?â There was a slight teasing lilt to his voice and you knew he was smirking.
âNamjoon,â you whined. Â
âI know I have to put the dishes into the dishwasher after using them. And I swear Iâm not going to use your hair conditioner agâââ
âJoon, Iâm serious.â you huffed and he stopped because of the seriousness of your voice.
âOkay, okay. Go on, elaborate on that.â Â
You sighed, scrunching your eyebrows. You didnât even know how to vocalize your thoughts. A part of you was aware how irrational and probably ridiculous you sounded but it was Namjoon. He was the closest person to you. He would never judge you and always listen to what you wanted to say.
âYou know, recently I read those statistics about people under twenty five getting marriedâŠâ
âOh, God, Y/N. Iâm someone who deals with statistics on daily basis. How many times do I have to remind you theyâre not always relevant?â Namjoon interrupted. Â
You elbowed his side. âLet me finish!â you pouted, earning a kiss on your crown in response and muffled âsorry, babeâ. âBasically they say the younger you get married, the possibility of having a divorce is higher.â you explained. Â
âSo youâre trying to say that we fit in those statistics?â Â
âI didnât mean that!â you protested. It wasnât the case. This stupid article was just a something that made you start wondering. âItâs just⊠Iâm scared, Joon. Of our future, what it will bring to us. We got married so early and I know the first crisis will come to us eventually but what will we do then?â you asked, voice quivery.
Namjoon was silent for a moment, until he spoke again. âAre you asking me what would I do if we got into an argument?â Â
You nodded shyly.Â
Namjoon squeezed your hand as he was saying with it he was here to hold onto when you needed him. âItâs okay if youâre scared, baby. I am too. But I can assure you that no matter what happens between us, I will do everything in my power to fix that,â he said. âI love you, Y/N. Back then in that ballroom when we first met I knew you were going be my wife one day. And I promised myself that if I ever felt like I was hurting you, I would let you go and be free.â Â
You pouted. âI donât wanna lose you, dummy. Stop saying you will hurt me!â Â
He chuckled. âThere are always good and bad days when youâre in love with someone. But they say the sun will rise again even after the biggest storm, right? If you love someone enough, you will overcome all those crisis you were talking about. And change the statistics. â he said, making you chuckle at his last remark. âI canât ask you to never leave me but promise me you will always do whatever makes you happy. Okay?â
He lifted his pinky finger and you brought yours, linking them together in a cute, silly manner. âI promise.â you murmured.
Now, laying on your back and staring at the ceiling, Â you realise how wrong you were this whole time.
Itâs Namjoon whoâs making you happy. You canât let your first, big crisis take him away from you because he thinks youâll be better without him. Fuck the statistics, fuck everything honestly. Youâre having the world by your feet when heâs with you, and youâre not going to give up on that so easily. Â
He is your first love and youâre not letting him leave you so easily.
Standing on wobbly legs from the bed, you make your way to the kitchen. You have a plan in your head and you hopefully will manage to succeed.
You stop in your tracks by the mirror hanging on the wall, staring at your reflection. You definitely like youâve had a rough night. There are smudges of mascara underneath your eyes because you havenât removed your makeup before going to sleep and your hairâs a mess. There are splotches of red and violet covering the skin of your neck and cleavage and youâre more than aware now that Namjoon's shirt youâre wearing isnât buttoned properly.
After washing your face in the bathroom, you enter the kitchen. You pull out from the fridge all the groceries you bought yesterday with Namjoon with purpose to make a breakfast the next day after Chrimstas Eve and start cooking. Â
Youâre going to make your husband's favourite French toast.
Both of you have never been master chefs at cooking, in most cases choosing to eat out in the city or simply order something for dinner but breakfasts have always been something you are celebrating together in your house. And you can proudly admit youâre better than making them than your dear husband.
However, stress is a factor that makes you feel paralyzed in various kinds of situations so before you could blink an eye, youâre smelling something burning. You jump in horror, dropping the teaspoon on to the floor with loud clicking sound. There it is, Namjoon's French toast laying on your pan utterly inedible.
âFuck!â you curse, sitting on a stool by the kitchen island and burying your face in hands.
Tears well in your eyes. For once youâve wanted to do something right and here you are, crying over burnt toast because you have no time to make another one and Namjoon's probably already upâ
âGood morninâbaby, whatâs wrong? What happened?â Â
Namjoon's soft, a little raspy voice startles you. Your heart swells hearing the petname he's addressed you. Lifting your face up, youâre met with his worried expression. Â
He looks so normal. Like in every single morning youâve spent together. Heâs wearing his favourite, blue pajama pants and a plain, white tshirt. He hasnât even put on eye contacts yet, choosing to wear his glasses instead that have successfully made you feel weak in the knees a few times before.
âWhy are you crying?â he asks. You sniffle, gesturing with your hand to the kitchen counter where still lays the burnt toast. Namjoon follows your line of sight, furrowing his eyebrows. âI donât understand.â Â
You let out a shaky sigh, trying to calm down your breathing. âI wanted to make you a b-breakfast. And I fucked up as always because I burnt your favourite French toast.â you stammer out before another fresh wave of sobs racks through your body.
âOh, sweetheart,â Namjoon crunches down in front of you, placing his hand on your bare knee and rubbing the skin in soothing manner meant to calm your nerves. Just like you did to him last night when he tried to confess his feelings about the divorce. âItâs okay. We can make another one together.â Â
âBut I wanted to do that just for you!âÂ
Namjoon shakes his head and you could see a small smile dancing on his lips. âSilly, why were you so determined to make me a breakfast?âÂ
âBecause thatâs what you deserve,â you say firmly.
âI deserve to have a good breakfast?â he teases.Â
You angrily wipe the tears off your cheeks. âYou deserve everything!â you exclaim, making Namjoon raise his eyebrows in confusion. âYouâre always so good to me, Joonie. This Christmas made me realise just how much you care about me. I canât let you agree to the divorce so easily,âÂ
âWhat do you mean?âÂ
You stand up from the stool and he follows you, towering over your form. You feel small but in a good way. You feel safe. âThere will be no divorce. Iâm not going to leave you.âÂ
Namjoon cups your cheeks and heâs grinning like a fool but he needs you to say it. So he begs. âPlease, tell me why is that.âÂ
Your lips are already touching his when you whisper, âBecause I love you. And I donât think I will ever find someone quite like you, Joon.âÂ
And then heâs kissing you. Your teeth clash but you donât care, standing on your toes to mould your mouths together in better angle. He lifts you up from the floor with ease, swirling your bodies around. Youâre laughing together and he isnât even ashamed there is a tear or two running down his cheeks.
When he places you on the ground again, he knows he isnât dreaming. Heâs just living his dream life, with you by his side.Â
âI love you too.âÂ
And just like that, your history together starts again.
Bonus:Â
âWe made up with Namjoon.âÂ
You hear your sister shriek on the other side. âOh my God, I canât believe you actually banged. Youâre nasty, Y/N.âÂ
âIt wasnât like that! Iâm telling you we arenât getting a divorce and the only thing you can think about is us having sex?âÂ
But Soojin isnât listening to you anymore. You hear her shouting, âTaehyung, they fucked and now they arenât getting a divorce!âÂ
âSoojin-ah!â you wail.
Taehyung's faint voice reaches your eyes. âI told you they would make up. You owe me fifty!âÂ
âYou made a bet?!â you exclaim.
âIâm sorry, Y/N. Ghhh-shh. The connection is-shh-bad! I donât hear-shhh-you! Bye!â She hangs up before you could say anything else.Â
Entering the kitchen, youâre met with your husband, casually sipping on his coffee. He lifts his eyebrows when he sees you and asks, âHow's your little sister? Is she planning to rip off my balls?â Â
âNope. But Iâm changing my statement about her. Sheâs evil.â you say, sitting on a stool next to him. Â
âGlad weâre on the same page, baby.â
#namjoon smut#bts smut#btswritingcafe#ksmutclub#bangtanarmynet#smutcentralnet#btsbookclub#bangtanhq#btswriterscollective#hyungsmutsociety#namjoon angst#bts scenario#bts fanfic#namjoon fluff#namjoon x reader#namjoon#namjoon fic#bts#my writing
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Butterfly Lies - Four
chapter four â  masterlist â previous â next â
mafialeader kun x reader
words: 3.8k
genre: smut, angst, fluff
warnings: smut (degredation, dom!kun, sub! reader); mentions of torture death and violence
money makes people do strange things, is what people would say, it can even motivate them to murder. kun didnât have people killed for the money, he had them killed for the power, he was a monster among men, is what people would say. in reality kun had only ever been motivated by one thing, his love for you
â Â â Â â Â â Â â
When you were actual allowed to start your real job at Qian Industries, it was weirdly fun. You spent all of your mornings with Ten, explaining to him why his ideas were wildly unrealistic and crazy and providing him with more sensible ones.
âWhy would the office need to be near an ice cream place, I like ice cream as much as the next person Ten but I just donât think that is essential,â you explained, âplus that would make the office very close to a G7 territory, they arenât on the list of enemies and I guess we donât want to add them to that list, it would probably involve unnecessary death.â
You put a big read x over the address Ten had proposed.
âI question your priorities there but okayâŠâ Ten said. He was questioning your priorities? Maybe Kun had assigned you this job and ordered Ten to annoy you out of the company. Somehow you knew that wasnât true, Ten was just Ten.
âIf you donât shut your ass up, Iâm going to start leaving random fruits on your desk you idiot.â It was the one thing Kun had told you that would give you leverage over Ten â his fear of fruits.
Ten huffed, throwing his pen down at the map dramatically.
âThen where do you suggest?â he asked.
You picked up a black marker and drew a circle round two different locations,
âBoth of these work, one is better for efficiency but the other is slightly closer to the NCT office which could be useful for collaboration. It would be better to be further away from them though so that we cover more area combined, but Iâm not against that location so you can pick between the two,â you explained.
Ten looked vaguely impressed. He picked up the red marker and drew an X over the closer location.
âWe go for efficiency then.â Â
You held your hand up, giving Ten a high five.
âThe best team that V has,â you said. Ten raised an eyebrow.
âWayV, is the name of the gang you know?â he said, âor clearly you donât know, people just graffiti the V because thatâs easier.â
That made more sense, a single letter wasnât a great name for any brand.
âBut yes, we do make a good team,â he relented, âin that youâre smart and Iâm stunningly good-looking.â
You let him have that one.
The day didnât slow down from there, next you were expected to go and learn some skills with Lucas. You were marginally apprehensive about what skills entailed but trusted Kun knew what he was doing.
Lucas was staring out of the office window when you walked in, so he didnât notice you.
âHello?â you said, making him aware of your presence.
âSorry there was a cute puppy on the street,â he said turning around to grin at you. Your first question was how he saw the puppy from the street when you were on the sixteenth floor. Your second question came after his second statement.
âSo, have you ever stabbed someone before?â You decided he was dangerously nonchalant in asking you that question.
You stared at him for a second trying to figure out just quite how sarcastically to answer.
âYeh, I stabbed a guy just last week for jumping the queue, he had a right smirk on his face. No of course I have never stabbed someone you idiot, like most people have never done that, like a high percentage.â
Lucas shrugged.
âJust would have made my job easier if you had but its chill,â he replied.
He then proceeded to hand you a knife and get you to practise stabbing a dummy he had set out, showing you different tactics for self-defence. He also showed you how to disarm and attacker or just fight someone without a weapon.
He wanted to show you how to fire a gun, but you refused to learn, you didnât think it was necessary. You also didnât want to contribute to the number of guns in the city or gun violence.
âWe canât go to the hospital, so you have to learn how to deal with stab wounds, how to slow the bleeding and how to do stiches also,â Lucas explained. You were weirdly excited at the prospect of this.
It was exactly the kind of area you felt you could be additionally useful without having to resort to mindless violence. You would just help with the aftermath of mindless violence instead.
As you stitched the fake arm you struggled to understand how Kun was calm enough to have done this to himself. He was truly his own brand of strangely impressive but also maybe insane.
You had actually planned to meet him later on for dinner. You were slightly stressed about it because you really didnât want to have to talk about the whole, âkissâ situation, you reckoned it wouldnât be beneficial for your friendship to linger on the reasons you refused to commit to Kun.
You also knew it wasnât beneficially for our friendship to ignore him, thus you agreed to go. You thanked Lucas for helping you and walked into the elevator, planning to stop by and ask Kun what kind of restaurant it was so you knew what to wear before you went home.
You arrived outside his office where the door was open, and no one was inside. You didnât think anything of it, he was probably just busy elsewhere.
At the same time, you got a text from Johnny, one of the guys who worked out in Korea about the office location. You had a bit of free time, so you decided to go look for Ten and tell him what Johnny had said.
You decided to go to random floors and explore a bit. You had only been to a few parts of the building. You looked at the options on the lift and were surprised to find the building had multiple basement levels.
You guessed it might be carpark and thought it would be fun to see what kind of cars they drove to work out if any of Kunâs guys were just as rich as him. You pressed B1 and the lift went down.
It was a carpark, but it was empty, so you decided to go down the steps to the next level.
B2 was decidedly not a basement. The door to it was locked by a pass that said top level security clearance only. You held your pass up and it opened the door, it beeped green and opened. You were surprised Kun had given you that level of access, you had expected the door to not let you in.
There was a big sign inside the basement entrance with another reception desk. Yet this time the reception desk said WayV above it in big letters. Not Kun industries.
You had stumbled across where the real action occurred. You felt a lump rise in your throat, you were terrified yet so intrigued that you couldnât walk away.
Yangyang was sitting at the desk with his feet up and jumped when he saw you.
ây/n!â he said, âhow did you get in here?â
âWith my pass,â you said wiggling it, smile on your face, hoping if you faked like you were meant to be there enough, he wouldnât question it.
âI thought you were working with Lucas and then you were done, what brings you here?â he looked slightly nervous.
âI know whatâs happening in there,â you said, hoping that he inferred something from your statement that would stop his questioning.
âUh, okay then go on ahead,â he said, sitting back down. You felt bad, knowing that he would probably get in trouble again for this, he clearly had been demoted a lot if he was on desk duty.
You pushed open a door on your right and entered a badly lit corridor. There were a few doors, but you heard voices coming from further on down, so you walked towards that. The door was left open slightly and so you stood next to it, you could see but you could here.
You heard someone get hit, groaning in pain, causing you to flinch.
âTell me where he fucking gave you this letter or I will rip your fingernails out one by one until you change your mind,â you heard Xiaojunâs voice. There was something so terrifying about how such a seemingly nice guy could be here, doing this.
âNo fucking time Jun, either he tells us, or we shoot his buddy here,â this time it was Kunâs voice which was so much worse.
âFuck you!â came an angry reply immediately followed by a gunshot.
âNow your friend is dead, tsk, tsk, tsk,â Kun said his voice unlike anything you had ever heard before.
âAnd so is your leverage,â the man replied. Kun laughed. He laughed, you were so shocked, his laugh was so like him yet so not.
âYou have other friends, other partners, no?â Kun began, âYou are not the only two we have or the only two we can get. Lucas here will get your other buddies from next door, one by one. I will shoot them one by one. When we run out, he will capture more, I will kill more. That is unless you fucking tell us, how you got the piece of paper.â
âJust kill me⊠please,â the man begged.
âBut that would be so easy wouldnât it, whereâs your flair for the dramatique? Get the next one in,â Kun said.
You panicked; you knew you should leave before someone saw you, but your legs wouldnât move.
Lucas opened the door and stepped out, face to face with your tear-filled eyes.
âShit,â was all he said. He grabbed your arm and pulled you a few steps along so everyone in the room could see.
âWe have a visitor,â Lucas said, âYangyang still canât do his job it seems.
You saw Kunâs face turn from a sick smile, to something unreadable. You saw the blood spatters on his hands, a dead body being rolled into a tarpaulin on the floor by Hendery and Sicheng and you saw a man tied up in the middle of the room.
The time it took for your brain to recognise the situation was enough time for your brain to finally send signals to your legs.
You dodged round Lucas and ran for the door. You ran back out of the hallway past the desk where Yangyang saw you running and now looked worried and up the stairs. You skipped the lift and continued up the stairs to the main entrance before running out the front door.
You stopped a taxi in the street and asked it to drive you home. Your only real thought was that you didnât want to think.
You pulled out your phone. You knew Kun wouldnât try to contact you. He was nice like that, he wouldnât impose. He also murdered people for information. He was evil like that.
You texted Yuyan.
Need to go clubbing tonight, can you meet me at the snake house at seven?
The snake house was your favourite bar, it was right near a good club and you couldnât wait until the club opened to drown out your memories with vodka.
You stopped at home briefly to throw on some new makeup and a dress, they wouldnât let you into the club otherwise before walking to the bar.
Yuyan was waiting outside.
âNot to be mean y/n,â she said, âbut you look rough, did you fall down the stairs? Your face is a weird colour, are you sick?â
âNot sick, emotionally traumatised, shall we drink,â you said dragging her through the door of the snake house. Yuyan just laughed, she thought you were joking or exaggerating, probably assumed the mental trauma was just an awkward meeting or something similar.
You stood at the bar.
âCan I get a rum and coke?â Yuyan said to the barman, who nodded.
âIâm going to level with you, can you just give me that bottle of tequila and a straw please,â you asked.
âSo, a real bad day then?â Yuyan said raising her eyebrows.
âThe worst.â
You sipped your tequila with a straw, it wasnât super pleasant to drink this way, but it did have the effect you had hoped for, it made you drunk very fast.
You had practically passed out in the bar seat by eight-thirty.
âHow are we meant to get into the club when you canât even stand?â Yuyan chastised, pulling the bottle out of your hands.
âIf I stop drinking now, I should sober up slightly by ten,â you said and Yuyan couldnât argue with that.
By ten you were in fact able to stand and just about managed to get into the club, the bouncer did give you a look but Yuyan was looking pretty so he let you in anyway. A fucked-up system but it worked in your favour.
Inside the club you were still drunk, but slightly more in control, you found a random guy on the dancefloor and started making out with him. Trying to push the resurfacing memories of Kun out of your mind.
It didnât really work. You were sobering up by the minute and so left the random guy you had found to go back over to the bar. You downed three shots and could almost hear your liver complaining before getting back to the dancefloor.
It still didnât help but your drunk confidence was back, you found Yuyan again and explained your alcohol fuelled plan.
âIâm going to call him, Iâm going to tell him to stop being bad, how dare he be like this, he is meant to be a good guy.â
You had never told Yuyan about Kun, so she had no idea what you were talking about,
âAre you sure this is a good idea, drunk calling a guy rarely is,â she advised, âbut that clearly wonât stop you,â she said laughing as you walked towards the door. It was fine to leave her because a few of your other friends had shown up by this point.
You rang Kun, standing inside by the entrance to the club.
âI need to talk to youuuu!â you shouted down the phone when he answered, âI need to talk to bad Kun because heâs making my heart sad.â
Kun sighed down the end of the phone.
âWhere are you at, I will come pick you up,â he said.
âThe club next to snake house,â you said, hanging up the phone and wandering outside. There were still people queuing to get in on the street. It was only just before midnight. The cold air sobered you up slightly and you were already regretting your phone call decision.
Minutes later, Kunâs SUV pulled up and he opened the door from the inside so you could get in. You pulled your heels off and climbed into the front seat.
âI hate you sometimes Kun,â you said.
âIâm sorry,â he replied. Like ever he really did sound sorry. You didnât know what to say now he was here.
âI wish I had no feelings for you at all,â you iterated, âit would make things so much easier.â
Kunâs apartment wasnât far from the bar. He stopped the car and got out, you followed silently until you reached the inside. Kun shut his door behind you both carefully.
âDo you want me to explain?â Kun asked, his face looked so sad, you knew how much your words hurt him, but you also knew how important is was to tell him the truth.
âLetâs have sex,â you said to which Kun almost fell over. Â
âYour drunk and well, given the situation I donât think that is the best choice, we need to talk about this.â
âIâm not that drunk anymore.â You replied, âand talking hasnât gotten us anywhere.â
âAre we gonna fuck because you love me or because you hate me?â he asked.
âDoes it matter?â you countered. Kun answered by bringing his lips to yours, pushing you up against his wall, biting your lip softly as your hands gripped his hair.
âWeâre only in this situation because youâre a bad girl who canât do what sheâs told,â he whispered in your ear, undoing the buttons of his shirt, âI gave you a job, I take you to dinner, I do everything for you and yet you still canât behave for me.â
His words were turning you on, so you tried to kiss him again, but he pushed you back against the wall.
âNot yet baby, bad girls have to wait,â he said, still unbuttoning his shirt, painfully slowly before throwing it on the floor. Your eyes blazed at the sight of his chest, Kun really was the perfect man, excluding his violent activities.
Kun stepped forward again until your bodies were millimetres apart. He pushed your dress up slightly, his hand pressing against your bum, pulling you towards him across the final short distance.
He stared down into your eyes, you had no way of discerning what his thoughts were, his face was blank.
âAre you sure this is what you want? Will you be a good girl for me?â he asked, his hand playing with the zip of your dress, teasing you with the opportunity to back out, knowing that you wouldnât.
You nodded. He immediately pulled the zip down, your dress falling to the floor moments later. You hadnât worn a bra, but you were too tipsy to be self-conscious. You wouldnât have needed to be anyway.
âYou are so beautiful,â Kun said, his normal softness fleeting over his face for a second before it was gone again. He brought his lips back to yours, kissing you more aggressively this time, his fingertips brushing over your nipple lightly in comparison.
His fingertips traced down your stomach lightly, stopping just above the waistband of your panties.
âCute,â he said, referencing your underwear with pink bunnies on, you hadnât prepared for the current situation. You made a face at him, but he just chuckled, âI mean it, youâre cute,â he said, before pulling them down your legs.
The dichotomy was almost too much for you to handle. His hand brushed between your legs,
âI knew you could never resist me, Iâm too handsome,â he said, licking the glistening moisture off of his fingers.
Your legs weakened even with that small touch, a problem that worsened when Kun began to rub gentle circles into your clit. You groaned slightly, desperate for more, but Kun was unwilling to give it to you yet.
âSuch a slut, donât think I didnât notice that your lipstick was smudged when you got into the car.â He said, finally pushing two fingers inside of you as he trailed kissed down your neck, your arms wrapped around him.
âBut now youâre my slut,â he said, his fingers moving at a painfully slow speed.
âFaster,â you begged, your breath raspy. Kun ignored you, continuing to do things his way, clearly enjoying it from the grin on his face.
You thought about ways to get what you want, and it didnât take you long. You had never guessed Kun would be so into sex like this, but now you did you could use it against him.
âPlease,â you said, âIâll do anything you want; Iâll be a good girl.â Kun raised his eyebrows slightly before grinning again.
âAs tempting as that is, you will do what I want anyway like a good little slut.â
Well your plan failed but when he added another finger you forgot all about that. You started to whine slightly, feeling your orgasm rise within you but just before you could cum, Kun moved his hand away, leaving you empty.
Kun walked away to sit on the sofa, his eyes still locked on yours. You could see the growing bulge in his sweats. The thought of sucking him off almost turned you on enough to dissipate your annoyance at his previous actions.
You followed him over and knelt down on the floor between his legs, undoing his jeans and pulling his waistband down, letting his cock spring free. It was thicker than you had anticipated as you wrapped your hand around the tip, moving your hand down slowly.
At first you planned to give him the same treatment he gave you but when you began to suck, Kunâs hands tangled in your hair, pushing your head down faster and deeper, you could feel his cock hitting the back of your throat, causing Kun to moan.
âLook at me,â Kun said, your eyes moving to stare up at him, as he continued to fuck your face on his cock. The look of pleasure on his face making you wet all over again.
Staring into your eyes as you sucked his dick was clearly too much for Kun as he came in your mouth seconds later, grinning when you swallowed it all.
âFuck youâre brilliant,â he said, âthe best whore for me.â
âPlease Kun, will you fuck me now, Iâm being a good slut, just for you,â you said, still staring up at him, feeling his dick harden beneath your fingers at your words.
He nodded, you climbed onto the sofa, kissing him softly before getting onto your hands and knees.
âLook at you just ready to be fucked, you really are a fucking whore for me,â Kun said, slapping your ass, the sting only making you more desperate to feel him inside of you.
âAre you taking the pill?â Kun asked, you nodded.
That was the final thing he needed to hear. He slammed his dick into you, setting a merciless pace from the start, his cock filling you up entirely.
Kun spanked you again before he placed his hand over your mouth as you screamed out in pleasure.
âJesus the neighbours will all know whose dick gets you wet at that volume,â he said. You moaned into his hand as he continued to fuck you, his own low groans only adding to your pleasure.
You could feel his dick beginning to throb inside of you.
âFuck youâre going to take my load like the dirty whore you are,â Kun said, removing his hand from your mouth, instead pulling your hair as his dick slammed deeper into you.
âYes,â you whined,
âI want to hear you say it,â Kun demanded.
âIâm a dirty whore who is going to be filled up with your cum,â you whined, feeling your walls contracting around his pulsing dick.
He final came inside of you, the feeling of his cum filling you up as he fucked it deeper into you causing your own high as you called out his name.
Kun pulled out and sat down onto the sofa, pulling you down next to him.
âCan we just sit here for a second?â he asked, his normal kind tone returning. You kissed his lips softly.
âI donât see why not.â
#kun#kun smut#wayv#wayv smut#nct smut#nct#kun scenarios#kun imagines#wayv scenarios#wayv imagines#nct scenarios#wayv mafia#kun mafia au#wayv mafia au#nct mafia au
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BNHA AU Ideas: True Might
Also on AO3!Â
TL;DR:Â Powers don't make the hero - passion does. Luckily for Izuku and Toshinori, this is something the quirkless have in droves.
AKA: All Might is a quirkless vigilante, One for All isn't a quirk that exists and 1A gets a whole 3-week buffer before villain's start kicking their face in as opposed to the 3 days of canon.
Basically: Quirkless!Vigilante!All Might and Quirkless!Successor!(gen ed) UA Student!Midoriya. Itâs a riot.
Yagi is stupid strong, his only form in this AU is basically Muscle Form from canon, but heâs a little less ridiculously cut. Not quite chubby, but huggable. This is mostly because he A, isnât a celebrity that needs to have a marketable image and B, he really likes carbs.
Heâs not exactly a vigilante by choice, in his day and age quirkless kids werenât permitted to apply to UA, either gen ed or heroics. When Nezu got the job, that all changed, but it was a solid decade too late for Yagi.
Heâs admittedly a little bitter about it, but he refuses to do anything but his best. He might be a little snippier with Pros than he really needs to be but oh well.
Katsuki and Izuku are utterly enamoured with this crazy vigilante that just doesnât lose, refuses to back down from a fight even when heâs outmatched, and somehow coming out victorious anyway, rescuing everyone. They have a tense relationship, but often find time to get together and just ramble about how cool All Might is, share theories and dissect his fights. Itâs not uncommon for Katsuki to have been hurling abuse at Izuku during class, only to show up at his house after school with a backpack full of snacks and a notebook full of questions.
Izuku knows most of what Katsuki does is to keep his status in the school. If he showed pity to a dumb quirkless runt heâd be painted with the same brush. This doesnât make what Katsuki has done right! Only Izuku doesnât blame him because heâs way too forgiving.
Izuku is the smartest person Katsuki knows and vice versa â they are each otherâs measuring stick. Katsuki shows Izuku bravery, Izuku shows Katsuki determination.
Episode 1 goes as it does but you see a real flash of regret when Katsuki tells Izuku to jump off a roof because they are kinda-sorta friends. Izuku looks so betrayed. We meet the slime villain like before, All Might saves Izuku and 100% doesnât expect the kid to fanboy about him and ask for two autographs â one made out to a âKacchanâ.
âCan someone quirkless be a hero?â âThe whole world will be against you. Most places won't even give you a shot â no matter how good you are. Youâre better off picking something else.â
Izuku is crushed but he does understand. All Might leaves and Izuku trails off kinda hopelessly. He follows the sounds of explosions without meaning to.
Itâs Katsuki! Heâs dying! Like usual at this point lmao. Izuku rushes in much like canon, All Might shows up, pulls Katsuki free and slams a dumpster on the slime villains head before making a speedy getaway. The police rip into Izuku but Katsuki actually defends him. âYou were doing fuck all while I fucking died â donât knock the only asshole who tried.â Izuku quietly slips him the autograph before running off the scene. Katsuki cries because Izuku got that for him even after he was such a fucking bastard that day? He canât bring himself to be a dick to Izuku again, even only for show.
All Might finds Izuku and he's like âSorry I was an ass I was being a dick because I had low self-esteem â Iâm quirkless. If youâll have me Iâll make you into the best hero the world had ever seen
Izuku, obviously, says yes please!
Also, hypermobile Izuku with joint braces as support gear because just let me project please my arms are killing me ( I wrote this a while ago and yes. My arms are still killing me - yes even now). He gets them after All Might sees him miss a dodge because his ankles rolled beneath him. They support his joints beyond the normal range of strength, letting him do some crazy pivots and handsprings, making it easy to support all his weight on a single-arm with very little strain. They can also lock in place, lessening muscle fatigue if he needs to hold onto something for ages and preventing injury if heâs pushing against something. Produced by David and Melissa Shield and imported through Nighteye Heroics.
Is support gear illegal for civilians to own? Yes! But medical equipment isnât so if you can just convince people its medical not support you can get away with a lot.
Yagi has no weapons himself, other than the random shit he picks up and swings at people, and has little support gear other than a communicator, panic button, and a whole lot of zip-ties.
Izuku should probably have weapons but Iâm struggling to think of anything other than war fans because how cool would that look? Because Shonen they would also have the ability to create powerful downdrafts that would give a boost to a jump or dodge.
Probably doesnât get them until later and needs to train with them.
In this AU, One for All isnât a quirk. Rather, itâs a role, passed from quirkless person to quirkless person, the only people who canât be hard countered by All for One. They tend to be vigilantes, crime lords or hero managers, doing their part to foil as much of All for Oneâs plans as they can, through whatever means necessary.
Itâs a role with a pretty high fatality rate.
No one knows All Might is quirkless other than those close to him, they instead think he has a strength quirk. Heâs the most prolific vigilante in Japan and is almost as much of a household name as canon All Might. More divisive though, with most people decrying his vigilante status when he could âeasily make a respectable heroâ. Heâs also pretty brutal with his takedowns of some villains, leading a lot of people to call him an unregulated brute. Still more call him a villain which, legally he would be - were he using a quirk.
Nighteye is his contact in the heroics industry, gives him loads of inside info thatâs typically not something he should be passing on. Heâs still close with David Shield. Nighteye imports any costume parts he needs from David and leaves them at various pickup points for Yagi.
He went to college with David in America after Nana died; America having a quirk blind admission process helped - but heâd have gotten shit talked a lot if people didnât just assume he had a strength quirk. Dude was and is crazy big.
David was one of the only people that knew he was quirkless
OH FOR FUN; Nighteye was also going to this American college and thatâs where he met All Might. The three of them became the worldâs strangest group of friends and may have lowkey done some slightly illegal vigilante work around the campus and surrounding town. They had a reputation for getting no sleep ever and being the most mismatched set of people
Secretly Smart Jock, Business Man with a Touch of E-boy, Science Hipster. They all tumbled into class together with varying levels of alive-ness. Nighteye and David were very much not morning people.
UA! Itâs a ride. Izuku fails the practical but heâs not shocked â he was prepared for this.
He actually got like 30 hero points? But they refused to admit him on hero points alone due to his âdeficienciesâ. They donât exactly tell Izuku this but Aizawa was there and he was furious.
Gets into 1C with Shinsou, Shinsou fuckin hates him on sight for reasons best known to him (Itâs bc he was so god damned cheerful he just â assumed Izuku had a quirk. I love Shinsou but heâs more than a little judgemental). Izuku is like smiling through the pain because he just wanted to make a friend his age â Katsuki barely counts.
He sits with him at lunch and makes friends-ish with the hero kids who dragged Katsuki along, meets Ochaco again. Sheâs upset he didnât get in â especially after he tells her he apparently got 30 points. The whole table gets mad on his behalf and hes embarrassed and happy.
Like day 2 heâs leaving gym and someone is like âOh LMAO itâs Deku â he was in the year below me at Aldera. Only fuckin quirkless kid in the whole school; canât believe he got into UA.â He turns to Izuku. âWhoâs dick did you suck to get in you - ?â And Shinsou just decks him. He grabs Izuku â who is super confused fyi â and s p r i n t s. They have to stop after a while because hes having a panic attack and Shinsou doesnât know what the fuck to do and heâs mad and upset and the sunshine boy is sobbing â
Aizawa shows up, having seen the (end of the) altercation and is ready to expel some gen ed kids he canât legally expel â until he sees the two kids from the entrance exam he was interested in â including the quirkless kid who should have gotten in. Well heâs much more willing to hear them out.
100% requests expulsion on those 2 2E kids because thatâs Discrimination and they should know better as second years. Nezu grants it because those 2 were di ck s
No USJ because no All Might â stuff like that will come,,, later : )
Sports Fest! Izuku and Shinsou kick ass, Aizawa is Watching. All Might may have gotten in as a crowd member with Nighteye and a visiting David and Melissa and they are cheering on their sun son. Also, Nighteye is going to go cheer on Mirio so he just got a pass to attend all 3 days of the sports festival. Heâs just buying snacks on the second day because heâs never talked to one of the second years in his life.
Shinsou and Izuku make it to the tournament. Izuku has been training pretty seriously with All Might for a while now and hes a very good fighty boy. Makes it to the 3rd round of the tournament where he loses to Iida. Shinsou makes it second where he loses to Katsuki. Izuku is like âIida might you be Ingeniumâs brother or something?â âYes, I am!â âOH MY GOD I LOVE INGENIUM ISNâT HE THE COOLESTâ âYES MY BROTHER IS AMAZINGâ Shinsou is just watching while faintly amused.
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Okay, so there was this post, about where I was stuck at a rather miserable wedding. And in the comments, @fuzzballsheltiepants left a comment about imagining being stuck at the wedding with Neil and Andrew at the table.
Well, guess you could say that it inspired this fic.
No real warnings here, other than Neil stirring up trouble. Oh, and drink responsibly.
*******
âWho the hell does a puzzle game at a wedding?â
The left corner of Neilâs mouth twitched upward at the hint of indignation in his husbandâs voice; he glanced over to find Andrew, his expression bored (better than murderous), gazing around the room with a half-empty plastic cup held in his left hand. He looked so handsome in his black suit with dark grey dress shirt (sans tie), blond hair freshly trimmed and bangs brushed back from his forehead. Yet for all the enticing picture he made at the moment, Neil would much rather he be dressed in a pair of comfortable sweats â that they both be in sweats and at their townhouse, busy making dinner and spoiling the cats than stuck at Reganâs wedding.
Unfortunately, it seemed that when the captain of your Exy team got married, you were expected to attend the event, especially if you were a married couple yourself and they helped back a transfer that got the two of you on the same team at last.
Dammit.
âI must admit, thatâs the first Iâve heard of it â if anything, Nicky would have had it at his wedding.â Neil smiled when Andrew snorted at that, considering the spectacle the event had already been. âOr suggested it for ours.â When his husband grimaced, his smile widened. âThough to be fair, I think seeing who could pick a lock fastest would have been more âusâ.â
âThat or break out of handcuffs,â Andrew suggested while giving him a narrow look for some reason, then finished the last of his whiskey. âBut we were smart enough to skip all of this nonsense.â Their ceremony had lasted five minutes, tops, at the courthouse and included only their most ânecessary pestsâ (Andrewâs words).
âTrue,â Neil murmured as he glanced around the large room crowded with people; some he knew since they were teammates, but most were strangers â Reganâs family and friends, or Sarahâs, he supposed. Heâd only known the Dynamiteâs captain for a few months, not counting the occasional meet-up when his former team played Andrewâs, and so wasnât that familiar with the manâs fiancĂ©e.
Certainly not familiar enough to feel as if he should be stuck at the manâs wedding, but Regan wanted his team there for some reason, so Neil (and Andrew) had to suffer through the thing. Strict orders had been given â they couldnât leave until after the cake had been cut and handed out.
Dammit.
At least there was an open bar, which they braved yet again so Andrew could have another drink (Neil stuck with juice since he wasnât comfortable having more than a glass or two of beer or cider with his new teammates), but it seemed by then that the servers were done walking around with appetizers. Andrew stood there radiating indignation while Dave (backliner) introduced Neil to his wife, Laura, then clicked his tongue in disgust once they left. âThey said the reception would start at 5:30. That was ten minutes ago.â
âUhm, these things tend to run late?â Neil winced at the spark of irritation in his husbandâs hazel eyes. âMaybe thereâs something left at the cheese table.â
That seemed to appease the walking black hole, at least for the moment; they went into the one room where a cheese and vegetable spread had been placed (and a small classical quartet played music), and found that it hadnât been entirely picked clean just yet.
They also found Mark, the teamâs sub goalie, being berated by a guest who appeared determined to convert him to a vegan lifestyle. â-much better for the planet if you stop murdering animals because you âlike a nice steak now and thenâ,â the young woman sneered.
Neil was bored, stuck wearing a suit (even if Andrew had picked it out for him and it always led to a quite enjoyable time later when it came to removing it) and would much rather be home, so he decided âwhat the hellâ because when would he see most of these people again? âActually,â he informed the woman as he cut into her tirade, âthere are some downsides to a vegan lifestyle. I mean, unless youâre growing everything yourself with sustainability in mind, you can negatively impact the environment even if youâre not âmurdering animalsâ.â He gave her a cold smile as he nodded to her fake leather purse and shoes. âThink plastic is good for the planet? Or when you just have to have your latest fad vegetable or grain to the point you donât care how it impacts the area around it?â He tried to remember some of the other arguments Allison had made during their last visit together, but it seemed that heâd already annoyed the woman enough as sheâd taken to glaring at him (along with her date for the evening) while Mark smiled in relief and Andrew continued to decimate what remained of the cheese.
âYou donât have to be an asshole,â she snapped before she stomped away (with date in tow), and even tossed her long, black hair over her shoulder in emphasis.
âThanks.â Mark gave him a relieved smile then took a swig of his beer. âAll I did was make a joke about if she thought weâd be lucky enough to have steak for dinner and she went off on me. What happened to âeach their ownâ, eh?â
âWeâre with you there,â Neil agreed; personally, he didnât care about oneâs lifestyle choices as long as they didnât impact others, and wished that more people felt the same.
He talked with Mark and Jennie (offensive dealer) who joined the discussion while Andrew basically cleared the table, and then it was back to the bar (some people better have a ride home or plan on cutting themselves off soon, because it was clear the long wait for dinner was not a good thing). âYou just canât resist stirring up shit, can you?â Andrew mused as he swirled the whiskey (at least the bar was stocked with semi-decent liquor or Neil suspected theyâd have been long gone, âcakeâ rule or no cake rule).
âIâve no idea what youâre talking about.â Neil kept a straight face until Andrew scoffed, then smiled enough that the scar on his left cheek ached from stretching so much.
They snuck outside to smoke (one of their five cigarettes each of the day), uncaring of the cold when they were alone and able to enjoy each otherâs company in silence for a little while. Then it was back inside, where they found a quiet corner to wait (well, except for when Andrew bitched and bitched about how Regan had no fucking clue how to tell time) for the reception hall to be ready.
Almost an hour and a half later than it had said on the invite, the doors were opened and they were âinvitedâ to sit at their arranged tables for the reception part of the wedding. Regan and Sarah had set things up so the players were scattered amongst their family and friends.
Somehow, Neil wasnât surprised (not with his luck) to find himself at the same table as the vegan couple.
She gave him and Andrew a cold look and immediately made it clear that she and her boyfriend were the best of friends with another couple at the table, which left two other couples for Neil and Andrew to talk to for the next hour or two. Except that Andrew had never gotten along very well with Lucas, who helped with the teamâs media accounts (which meant that Neil didnât, either), and the other couple were related to Sarah and had kids, so Neil listened to them ramble on for a couple of minutes about nine-to-five jobs and toddlers and just lost focus around the time they mentioned âday-careâ.
âWeâre going back to the bar, and this time distract the bartender while I grab the bottle of whiskey,â Andrew murmured in German.
Considering that vegan-girl was going on about some amazing quinoa recipe, Neil figured that it was the best thing possible, or else heâd be calling Renee to help him break his husband out of prison for mass homicide.
On second thought, it might be a good idea to text her just in caseâŠ..
While the maid of honor rambled on about what a precious saint Sarah was, he smiled at the one bartender (who appeared exhausted and looking forward to a break, now that people were seated and about to be fed), and asked about gin drinks while inching a twenty toward the tip jar, and walked off with a gin and tonic he would sadly have to ignore (especially since it was obvious that heâd be driving home) while a smug Andrew cradled his illicit goods beneath his coat back to the table.
Andrew stared everyone down as he drank straight from the bottle, while Neil had never been so grateful to see a salad appear in front of him in his life.
That and the bread baskets had to last them until it was their tableâs turn to go to the buffet for any real food, and of course they were table ten. âIsnât it odd, how all of a sudden the balls seem attracted to Reganâs head,â Andrew said as he snatched up the last two rolls, much to Lucasâ ire.
âOr his car tires are always deflated.â Neil hadnât thought that the backliner had disliked them, but he was beginning to revise that opinion. âGood thing we didnât go with the one bar set he wanted as a gift.â
âNo, he deserves that horrid vase.â A slight shiver of distaste ran through Andrewâs stocky body.
âAh, itâs rude to talk in a language no one else understands,â vegan-girlâs bestie said with evident disapproval, never mind that most of the table had been carrying on a conversation together - without Andrew and Neil.
Andrew gave her a blank look while Neil offered his fatherâs smile until she blanched. âNot our fault you donât understand it,â he said before he rolled his eyes and turned back to his husband. âMake sure to throw the balls really, really hard.â
The look he received from his âbetter halfâ made it clear that he neednât have said anything.
While they waited for their turn, Neil exchanged a few texts with Renee (Andrew appeased for the moment, but chance for bloodshed still possible, while she mentioned various flight arrivals, that Allison was excited about her upcoming fashion line and that a care package was on its way to them). For his part, Andrew sipped the whiskey while he recited a German drinking song with rather dubious lyrics in a rote manner in an obvious attempt to annoy their dinner-mates.
(It worked.)
Everyone appeared relieved when it was finally their turn to eat; vegan-besties tried to get there first, but Andrew blocked speeding balls for a living while Neil dealt with people larger than him trying to knock him down all the time, so they had no problems getting to the buffet ahead of everyone else. Neil threw a smile over his shoulder at the couple while Andrew grabbed their plates.
At least the food looked decent; Andrew loaded up on the lasagna, fried chicken sliders and prawns, while Neil had the first two and a bowl of fruit salad; the vegetables were roundly ignored.
When vegan-girl saw their plates at the table, she glared (especially at Andrew, who was busy breaking apart the pieces of lasagna). âYou did that on purpose, didnât you?â
Could she not see the bowl of fruit? Neil opened his mouth to argue and then thought better of it â Renee would be slightly peeved if she had to break both of them out of jail, after all. âWhat type of cake do you think it is, hmm? Chocolate? Vanilla? Almond?â
âIt better be the best damn cake in the world after putting up with this shit,â Andrew muttered between bites of food.
On that they both agreed.
It was quiet while everyone ate, which Neil put down to everyone being hungry, and then the married couple made noises about it being late (not really) and the babysitter and kids. Somehow, he wasnât surprised when first the wife left the table and then the husband once their plates were empty, and neither returned after ten minutes.
He was jealous as hell.
Even though there had been a couple of (thankfully short) speeches when the Regan and Sarah had entered the large room, Reganâs best man (Tim, his brother) got up to say a few more words and then the cake was wheeled into the room. Neil and Andrew perked up at that, even though it looked to be covered in that awful fondant icing and lots of gold dust. There was more talking (why?) between Regan and Sarah, and then they finally cut the damn thing.
âMaybe weâll be out of here soon,â Andrew murmured as he tapped his fingers against the top of the table.
âOne can hope.â The next time they got any invitations that werenât from their fellow Foxes in the mail, Neil was going to come down with a case of food poisoning or something instead of suffer through another wedding.
Andrew got up from the table at one point, so Neil pulled out his phone to text with Renee some more to ask her what she thought might bring on some convincing flu-like symptoms for a couple of days (heâd ask Aaron, but chances were fifty/fifty that the bastard might poison him for real) while he half-expected the fire alarm to go off.
Especially when Andrew didnât come back in ten minutes.
(He knew his husband hadnât gone off without him, because then there would be bloodshed.)
Andrew finally returned bearing two plates overloaded with cookies, of all things. âThatâs not cake.â
âNice to see you havenât taken too many hits to the head yet,â Andrew remarked as he pushed something round, white and covered in powdered sugar toward Neil, who regarded it with some suspicion but bit into it regardless; it was a shortbread cookie with walnuts so not bad. âThereâs a cookie table out there.â
âReally?â Neil thought about that while Lucasâ wife (who actually nice) looked on with interest. âOkay, why?â
Andrew shrugged and had another cookie, some rolled thing with filling. âSomething about Sarah being from Pennsylvania and it being a tradition there, from what the server told me.â Knowing Andrew, all he cared about was that there were sweets readily available.
Neil leaned against his husband while the glutton ate his way through the cookies, and smiled when a pumpkin spice cookie was nudged his way (it was good). When twenty minutes went by and still no cake but a DJ invited people (more like harassed) onto the dance floor, Andrew made a slight growling noise, had another swig of whiskey and went to fetch more cookies.
It was beginning to feel like theyâd never leave the damn wedding, that they were trapped there forever. Neil had survived a life on the run, had lasted through two (three) weeks at Evermore, had been tortured, so refused to be broken by this evening.
But dammit, it was hard.
Especially when the DJ started playing Justin Bieber.
When Andrew began to slide his fingers beneath the cuffs of his sleeves, Neil knew that they had to leave, and they had to leave now. âGo get our coats,â he whispered in his husbandâs left ear, followed by a slight nuzzle. When Andrew gave him a curious look, mindful of their instructions for the night, he smiled in a confident (well, Nicky called it his âoh shit weâre deadâ grin) manner. âTrust me.â
âIâm not that drunk,â Andrew insisted, yet grabbed the bottle of whiskey which did have a good bit left in it still and left the table.
Neil couldnât resist giving a chilling smile to the remaining people at the table, which made them cringe back, before he headed to the kitchen. The staff was surprised to see him and tried to politely shoo him away, but all it took was holding up two fifties and explaining how his spouse had a headache so he needed two slices of cake (which was already cut and plated, so what the hell was the hold-up?) to go.
They were only too happy to box those two slices for him.
He made sure to take pictures of the slices, which heâd provide to Coach Denham to prove that he and Andrew had remained at the damn wedding until theyâd gotten their cake, per instructions.
Cake in hand, he left the busy staff to their work and headed to the front door, where Andrew should be waiting for him. Andrew and their coats⊠and a large platter covered with cookies, apparently.
âUhmâŠ.â
âLetâs go,â Andrew said as he shoved Neilâs coat into his arms.
Neil wasnât going to ask, not when his husband radiated barely contained annoyance and there werenât any dead bodies (that he knew of, which was all that mattered).
The cake box in the back seat of the Maserati and the cookie platter firmly held on Andrewâs lap, Neil smoothly shifted the car into gear to drive them home. âFor any future weddings, weâre out of town,â Andrew declared before he bit into a brownie.
âAgreed.â
It was a peaceful drive home, the only sound the purr of the carâs engine and Andrew munching on cookies. Once they were inside their townhouse, Neil put the cake and the remaining cookies (he smiled when he noticed that Andrew had gotten more of the pumpkin ones for him) away, then fed the cats, who acted as if they were such starved creatures.
When he straightened up, Andrew was next to him. âHey,â Neil breathed out, his smile strengthening as he was tugged closer by broad hands on his hips. âRenee was ready to fly out here and help me stage a jailbreak in case you snapped tonight.â
âIt was close,â Andrew admitted. âSomeone tried to get me out on the dance floor, but Terri cut her off before she lost her arm.â
And probably more than that, knowing Andrew, Neil thought with a slight wince; he would have to thank his fellow striker next week. âWell, weâre home now, you still have some sweets left despite everything, and Iâve this suit which I canât quite remember how to take off.â Neil batted his eyelashes a couple of times. âWonât you help me?â
âPathetic as always, Josten,â Andrew sneered, but the heat in his lovely hazel eyes had nothing to do with anger or disgust.
âJosten-Minyard,â Neil reminded him before he was tugged down for a kiss, a pleased hum escaping as warm, strong hands slipped beneath his jacket.
The evening might have been horrible, but he couldnât complain about the sugar rush from all those cookies Andrew had eaten, oh no.
*******
Ok, I really do need to get back to some in progress fics. But that was mildly amusing (and cathartic).
#aftg#neil josten#andrew minyard#neil stirring up trouble as always#renee ready to ride to the rescue#don't get in the way of andrew and his sweets#andreil#married andreil#is it too much to ask for some friggen cake?#mumbling into the void#as always#nekojitachanfics
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âCupidâs strikeâ- Tuck Hanson x reader [Requested]
This imagine was requested from a girl on Wattpad as a way to make up for that awful ending. Tuck is a baby and he deserves everything. This is my first time writing him but wouldnât mind doing it more.Â
As Iâve said on monday, I donât have a lot of time but Iâm doing my best and writing on different projects. Blurbs are still a thing if youâd like and in the mean time, Iâd really like to know what you think about this.
Hope youâre all safe and doing well!
Tag list: @deaflikehawkeyeâ, @mollybegger-blogâ, @br0ck-eddieâ, @shadow-of-wonderâ, @fandom--0verdoseâ, @innerpaperexpertcloudâ, @evelynshelbyâ (let me know if you wanna be added)
"Hello, boys! Whatcha doing?" Y/n makes her entrance in her fellow agents' room. However, she doesn't get a reply, the boys were too busy staring at each other with their mouths open. Was that a new game they were playing? Not really thinking about it, knowing them and their goofiness, she just steps further into the room and from her new position, she could see what was on their computer that had made them lose their ability to speak.
"Who's that?" She then asks more intrigued. On the desktop, there was a picture of a blonde woman, charming smile, kind eyes. She seems nice enough.
"Lauren Scott?" FDR says not really talking to you but more with Tuck who by the expression on his face, knew exactly who he was talking about.
"So, let me ask again: who is that?" y/n asked again, not really liking the way her question kept going over their heads.
FDR was actually the one who explains the whole thing to you. Apparently, Tuck was looking for a partner and had registered on a dating app. That was how he met Lauren. FDR on the other hand, met Lauren in a more creepy way, as it was in his style. But, on the same day that she had first met Tuck, she had agreed to go on a date with him. Y/N didn't know Lauren but by this account alone, she decides that she doesn't like her. She knew that Tuck and FDR had a very strong and tight friendship but she also knew how the love for a woman can destroy relationships. It happens all the time and seeing the way they're looking at each other, she fears this could happen with them too.
"You know what? You date her. It's okay." FDR then says to Tuck after he's finished talking with Y/N
"Really?"
"Yeah well, it wouldn't be fair to you." He says shrugging his shoulders
"What do you mean? You think she would choose you?" Tuck's ego has been bruised by his friend insinuation. Y/N knew that when it came to women and their current romantic situation, the boys couldn't be more different. While FDR had a way about him that somehow managed to make every woman want to be with him, Tuck was a sweetheart and hadn't really put himself out there since his divorce. Maybe FDR was right, he would probably charm his way into Lauren's heart or piece of underwear and Tuck would be left behind. It sucks to say, but it's probably how it would go, both Tuck and FDR knew it. Hell, even Y/N knew it but thought it to be complete bullshit. She never really understood how women keep falling for FDR when he's basically playing by the book. One look at him and you would understand that he's going to break your heart. Sure, he was handsome, Y/N could see that, but so was Tuck.
For Y/N it was really a no brainer when it came to choose between the two but apparently that was not the case for Lauren. Lost in her thoughts, she came back to hear that the boys were setting some ground rules to court Lauren?
"Wait, are you actually going through with this?" She asks hoping to get a negative answer. Was she the only one that realized the foolishness of this situation?
"Yeah, we are," FDR exclaimed angrily typing on his keyboard.
"Tuck?" Y/N then turns to her favorite, hoping that he could be more reasonable than his friend.
"Yes. Yes, we are." To her dismay, came his reply along with a serious glace while he too typed angrily. Ugh, boys.
Shaking your head you were sure to manifest your dissent about their reached agreement, walking out of their room. This was not going to be nice.
***
Y/N always like to be right about something. That was one of the reasons why she chose to be a C.I.A. agent. She knew what was best and wanted to make things right. However, in this case, she would have much preferred to be wrong.
After that day in their office, things between the two friends became tense. They had formed two teams, men that they had personally recruited to gather as much information as they could on Lauren. And of course, to sabotage the other's dates with her. While Y/N admitted that it was kinda fun to see FDR make a total fool of himself while describing a paint, she was also worried for Tuck. It seemed like he was starting to really care for this woman and she couldn't get her head around as to why. Yes, she was attractive but there were so many good looking women out there that don't date two guys at the same time. I mean, why would any of them want to be with someone that could be so double-sided?
She refused to take part in this absurdity and mostly kept to herself. Although she had a good relationship with them, she had always been closer with Tuck. She had admitted to herself a long time ago that she had a crush on him, but with his divorce first and now Lauren, she never found the courage to let him know.
"Hey Y/N." Turning around she saw Tuck walking her way. Speaking of the devil...
"Hello, Tuck." She greeted him back, without her usual chirpiness.
"What's up?" He tries to make conversation while waiting for his coffee to be ready.
"Nothing much. What about you?"
"Just managed to make FDR look like a complete baffoon, so I'd say pretty good." He says giving you that charming smile that made you smile back like an idiot.
"You're still on with that plan, eh?" She asked even though she knew he was.
"Absolutely. Wait- are you on FDR's team? Is that why you're not with me?" He asks suspiciously.
"As if," she scoffs at the insinuation," I'm on no one's team. This whole thing is stupid." Y/N finally speaks her mind to him.
"You think so?" He looks taken back and somehow that only managed to anger her more.
"Of course I do and I honestly don't know how you both don't see it. I mean, FDR is pretty slow I've always thought that, but you? You actually surprised me, Tuck."
"By the way you're saying it, it's not in a good way is it?"
"Why would you even be with someone that dates your best friend behind your back? She doesn't know that you two know each other so she's just playing it safe, leading both of you on until she makes up her mind. Sounds to me she's not worth the fuss you're both making." Speaking her mind had never felt so good, the only thing is that now she doesn't think she can stop.
"I mean, look at you, Tuck. You're a fucking catch! You're rather easy on the eye, you're smart, you're sweet, you're thoughtful. If she doesn't appreciate this enough to stick to you then it's her loss. You're certainly not losing anything by not ending up with her." Maybe by getting this off her chest, she has let on more than she wanted to, but she was happy nonetheless. Even if Tuck chose to keep pining after Lauren, ignoring what she said and what she implied, at least she had tried.
The awkward silence that fell between them wasn't expected and now y/n was feeling more nervous than ever under the scrutiny of those beautiful eyes. So, with a quick goodbye, she excused herself and walked away.
***
The next time she came across Tuck, he was whispering about something with FDR in the hall only to stop as soon as he saw her approaching. FDR turned around to see what had made him stop talking and when he saw y/n's silhouette disappearing in one of the rooms, he understood why his best friend was all about. A part of him, the selfish one, was glad that Tuck was taking a step back from this competition they had going on, the other one though, the one that cared deeply about his friend, was actually relieved to see him pining after someone that could actually return his feelings. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but he could swear that Lauren would choose him and while it was obviously what he wanted, he wouldn't have enjoyed it if it would leave his best friend heartbroken in the process. He had known y/n almost as long as he had known and while he hadn't the same tight bond he shared with the British man, he knew that she was a kind heart and could be very sweet despite her ability to knock a guy twice her size in two seconds. In a way she was the perfect fit for Tuck, he wonders how he had never thought about it before, it was so obvious.
Well, it's never too late for Cupid to strike, right?
Pairing the two together was easier than FDR first thought. Neither of them had the littlest suspicion about the other's feelings. Well, Tuck had thought about it but by the way y/n had been avoiding him since their last conversation, he had dismissed the idea without a second thought. For FDR it was so amusing to see, two of their best agent, completely clueless about the situation they had put themselves in. Smirking at the plan that was forming in his head, he started to make all the calls necessary to arrange it. This is going to be fun.
The plan was very simple actually, just try to create the occasion where both of them would have to spend time alone so they'll be forced to talk about it at one point. Or so he thought, the success of his plan was based entirely on that. Having arranged everything, he sat in the surveillance room, from where he could see everything and everyone. As planned, y/n and Tuck were both carrying out their tasks in adjacent rooms. So that when FDR would set off the alarm, they would be the nearest agents to the room where the supposed intruders are going to be. Knowing them, as soon as they'd learn their position, they'd sprung into action and volunteer to solve the problem. And that's exactly what happened, much to FDR amusement and satisfaction.
"I'm on it." Their voice came simultaneously through the microphones of the computers he was watching them on. Tuck met her outside the incriminated room and after a nod of agreement, she kicked the door open and they entered the room covering each other's back. The room was dark, there wasn't much to see, but they were on high alert expecting someone to attack them at any moment. Back to back, they were venturing far in, when the sudden sound of the door being closed and locked startled them. Looking at each other in the dark, they quietly walked towards it only to check that it was indeed locked. Figuring that it was the intruders that had trapped them inside, they went to notify their team.
"They've trapped us in here." Tuck let FDR know, none the wiser about the fact that his friend was behind this all.
"And that's how it should be." FDR finally came clean, enjoying Tuck's confused expression and y/n clearly fed up with him one.
"What are you up to?" y/n asked putting away her gun and relaxing her stance already catching on with the fact that there probably weren't any intruders.
"You both needed a little push, so here it is mate. No need to thank me." He said mainly speaking to Tuck, who immediately grasped what his friend was hinting to. Groaning a little, he swore under his breath, frustrated at his friend antics but at the same time grateful that he had given him a little nudge in the right direction. Not that he had to know that
"What's he on about?" y/n's defeated voice snapped him out of his reverie.
Come on Tuck, now's your time. You can do it, mate.
"Oh, you know FDR. He's always on to something. This time though, I might know what he's up to." Taking his time, he strolled over where he thought she should be. Not that y/n could see him, but being nice to her made this all more intimate he thought.
"Is it something that I'd want to know?" Her voice worked as an indicator of her position and so far she was pretty close to him. An arm away, he guessed.
"I think so, yeah. I'd like to know if you'd like to come to a date with us?"
"And why would I want to be the fourth wheel? " As a matter of fact, she pointed out. She thought she had made it abundantly clear that she wasn't a fan of this situation they had put themselves in. Apparently not, she thought.
"That's not what you'd be doing, darling. I was thinking more of a double date situation. If you're okay with it, that it is."
Okay, this was something she hadn't seen coming. Was he asking her out? But then what about Lauren? Wasn't he all hellbent to conquer her heart?
"I'm not sure I'd like to go on a date with FDR. He's handsome and all but not really my type." She said playing coy, wanting to lure him out and be upfront about it. She wasn't going to let it be all mysterious and vague. Game time was over.
"I'm not sure I'd like that either," Tuck admitted letting out a small chuckle playing along, "that's why you'd be going on a date with me." He finally said.
If there was even the smallest amount of light, she was sure that Tuck would be creeped out by how big she was smiling. Y/n couldn't believe her ears. She'd been waiting to hear these words for what it felt like ages. Was she really that blessed to be asked out by such a lovely, charming man, who she knows to be loyal and kind?
"Is this a situation where silence means yes or is it more like "I'm trying to find the right words to say no"?" Apparently, she had been lost in her thoughts for too long and now Tuck was questioning himself.
"This is one of those situations where you've been waiting for something to happen for so long that when it does, you can't believe it," Y/n voice finally filled the room, relieving Tuck of any doubts and making him blush a little. Thank god it was so dark in here.
"So, I'll take that as a yes." He concluded.
"Your intuition has always been your strongest asset." She joked trying to soothe the embarrassment she was feeling. What a fool she was, thank god that Tuck was such a gentleman that he didn't mention it.
What Y/N didn't know though, was that Tuck too was lost into his little world where a miniature version of himself was jumping around doing a happy dance from finally scoring a date with the girl of his dreams.
#tuck hanson#tuck hanson imagine#tuck hanson x reader#tuck hanson imagines#this means war#tom hardy#tom hardy imagines#tom hardy x reader
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Title: Division of Labor (3/?)
Summary: Â
âThe past years, we have noticed a lot of our fresh high school graduates knew nothing about responsibilities that await them outside high school and even college. Many students do not master budgeting, taxes, household planning, loans and we hope to raise a generation who can navigate the adult world without the consequences of bad decisions they are bound to make going in blindlyâŠâ
Paradis High school starts a program incorporating adulting into their curriculum and Hange and Levi are paired together.
Note: From request of @a-golden-hearted-snk-fan. See this link for the request
Other Chapters: 1Â 2
Link to cross-postings: AO3
It turned out Hange did think the housing plan through. Â
"It's a rent to own contract...so after paying this certain amount of rent⊠within a number of years⊠we can own the house basically," Hange explained. Her preparation was evident in the wad of papers she had carelessly spread out on the table in front of Levi.
At first glance, Levi could not make sense of what those papers were. Eventually, by carefully scanning through the therefore, herewiths, in the events, the interest rates and percentages, Levi figured out they were contracts and manuals full of buying and renting policies of one particular real estate company.
Levi looked out the glass window of the booth of the quiet diner they had chosen to work in. He had tried to use the mechanical movements of the crowds on a commute home to at least help clear his mind enough to make sense of how exactly a rent-to-own contract worked. Levi was sure Hange was at least attempting to explain everything about the buying policies of the real estate company in layman's terms. Although Levi was somewhat impressed by the dedication Hange put into it, as soon as she started to talk about the policies and agreements beyond âwe get to own the house after a while,â Levi ended up spacing out. The prospect of spending, even if it was fake money, caused him enough unnecessary stress. Â
He turned his attention to the two flour sacks who were propped by the window of the diner booth they occupied. He had purposefully turned their ugly faces towards the window at the small possibility that Shadis, Erwin or even Zeke were amongst the crowds of people walking through the crowds and into the subway station. A testament to their determination not to waste any unnecessary funds or worse, flunk the program
"If we catch you in public not holding your baby, you pay babysitting dues or you fail." Shadis had said in homeroom class that morning.
After some discussion as a class and with some confirmation from Erwin, the whole class came to the understanding that if they went out separately, they were in no obligation to take their babies with them. It could always be assumed after all, that their partner had their baby with them. Being in public with their partner meant someone had to have the baby with them or they risk pay necessary dues. At any rate, they found solace in the fact that if they were going to look like idiots holding brown sacks with shabbily drawn faces on them, they at least had someone to look like an idiot with.
Levi looked back at  Hange to see that she had not stopped talking. Levi was not too surprised, having the disinterested equivalent of a resting bitch face, he had to master the art of looking like he cared to get past most classes. Â
âWhere did you get these anyway?â Levi asked, interrupting the tirade of his partner. The answer to that question would at least be something he would be able to understand.
âThe procedures manual and their company policies are available online.â Hange answered matter-of-factly. Levi noted how quickly she recovered from having her explanation of policy and business jargon interrupted.
As Levi looked once again through highlighted lines and messy scrawls, he felt embarrassed that he was not even halfway done with the design they had discussed the night before. He slowly brought out his folder where he had at least begun to draw the floor plan from the link Hange had sent him the night before.
âHow has the floor plan been Levi?â Hange cocked her head to one side. Levi could not tell if she was provoking him or if she was genuinely curious about the progress of his work. Regardless, the way that she sifted through the papers under her, while looking pointedly at the roughly drawn floor plan on his hands had Levi self conscious.
It was Tuesday afternoon, less than 24 hours since she had bombarded him with messages. Less than 24 hours since she dropped a pdf file of the floor plan and went MIA, Levi guessed it was to prepare all the documents which Hange had just laid out in front of him that morning. As he compared his own progress to hers, he also became aware of one more reality, their first outputs were due tomorrow. Begrudgingly Levi had to admit, despite her naivete and overenthusiasm, Hange had a better sense of urgency than he did.
âI planned everything out already. I just need to outline it.â Levi said, trying at least not to sound as defensive as he felt.
âBut can you do it alone? I didnât sleep at all last night to get this done.â Hange looked more concerned than anything else.â
As Levi looked back at a skeleton of a housing plan that lay in front of him, he started to understand her concern. The house they had selected was huge and designing would take hours if he actually wanted to put thought into it.
âI mean even if we take out the 1800 from our budget of 3600 dollars a month, we still have to consider furniture and it might take you a while to come out with the pricing right? I guess we could leave out 1000 dollars for thatâŠ.â
Furniture? Levi had stopped listening at âfurniture.â Somehow Levi had assumed that it would have been fully furnished when they bought it and they just had to rearrange furniture. âWeâre buying an unfurnished house?â Levi had hoped Hange was pulling his leg.
Hange knitted her brows in confusion. âDid I say anything about a furnished house?â
                     Division of Labor
âThere are two methods of accounting used in modern day society: cost accounting and accrual accounting or as Iâd like to call them: an idiotâs sorry excuse for accounting and actual accounting.â Zeke wrote the two terms on the board and plopped himself on the teacherâs desk. âReally though, why the hell do people still use cost accounting in modern society, itâs fucking stupid, barbaric, might as well go back to barteringâŠâ
Levi had no idea what either of them were. As he looked around at his classmates, they looked as lost as he was about the mini rant that Zeke gave about the two accounting methods he had failed to define.
After a few minutes of ranting, Zeke finally noticed the blank faces of his students. âOkay Social Experiment.â Zeke cocked his head to the side. âActually, letâs call it an IQ Test. Â Jean stand up.â
âYes sir!â Jean followed way too enthusiastically.
âYou got the investment banker occupation so ideally you should be the most knowledgeable on money among everyone in the room,â Zeke continued. âYou have zero dollars and I gave you 100 dollars right now. How much do you have?â
â100 dollars sir,â Jean answered.
âThatâs a smart boy.â Zeke slapped his desk so hard, Armin and Eren jumped, having sat so close to the teacherâs desk. âOkay, so if I lent you 100 dollars, how much do you have?â
â100 dollars.â
âSo, youâre gonna run away with my money? No plans of paying me back?â
Jean tensed up in confusion. âNo sir. Iâll be paying you back.â
âThen is it your money?"
âItâs with me sir⊠So I thinkâŠâ Jean paused for a second. âSo itâs your money sir?â
âTell me. The money is with you after all. Is it your money or my money?â
âItâs my money sir!â Jean answered too quickly, probably without even thinking.
âI lent you the money. I expect it back so itâs mine. Calling my money your money is practically stealing Kirschtein. I can call a lawyer on you.â Zeke narrowed his eyes at Jean for a few seconds before shrugging in defeat. âBut youâre not a criminal. Youâre just an idiot who relies on outdated accounting methods. Donât take that with you when you become an actual financial advisor. Sit down. Iâm calling someone else.â Zeke turned back to the class list on the teacherâs table. âOkay, anyone in this list with a finance related position...â Zekeâs eyes widened in surprise as he looked through the list. He looked at the class with a cat-like grin, his eyes focusing on one boy in the front row. âIn my almost sixteen years of knowing you, I did not expect you to be suitable but it looks like youâre the only one in this list other than Jean with an accounting related occupation.â
âReally? Itâs accounting related?â Eren had never been one to be good at Math. Everyone in the class agreed and as their professor hinted at his assigned occupation, many began to whisper, possibly theorizing as to what Eren had gotten.
They did not have to theorize for long though, within seconds, Zeke continued to discuss. âOkay Eren, letâs discuss your field of expertise --- insurance.â
Eren slowly nodded in return. It was a nod which everyone in the room had understood at first glance. Insurance was not Erenâs field of expertise.
Zeke did not seem to care though. âCase study time! I have 3000 dollars. Eren the insurance salesman sells me $200 dollars a month worth of insurance and I buy one years worth of prepaid insurance. By the end of this month, how much worth of assets do I have left?â
âBy assets, you mean money?â
âCheck a fucking dictionary.â
Eren sat down for a second. From his seat, Levi could hear some whispers from Mikasa and some clicks of a digital keyboard, or possibly a calculator.
â600 dollars.â
âFinal answer?â
âYes. Final Answer.â Eren seemed so sure of his answer.
From seeing Zekeâs face at the answer, Levi could not help but think, maybe phrasing it as a question was the better option for Eren.
âThis is why your generation is so shit at saving. With this type of attitude, youâre all gonna get into some shity Ponzi scheme with yourself and some sad saps who actually pitied you enough to lend you money without assessing your credit rating thatâs just gonna continue riding on some endless cycle until you all go to jail or declare bankruptcy.â Zeke ranted again as he punched the buttons of the projector, turning it on. â Scratch that. At this rate, none of you would probably even know how to declare bankruptcy.â
Accounting 101 . Those two words flashed on the screen, the contrast of black words in a default font to the white background of a hastily made powerpoint only getting clearer as the projector whirred to life.
âThe amount of debt you can get into in the real world will fuck up your life. So to simulate the real world consequences of unpaid debt, we decided to make your fake debt by the end of the year one of the main determinants of your final grade. And we will be using real accounting to determine your debt. Any questions before we start?â
It was Sasha who raised her hand from the back of the classroom.
âYes?â Zeke asked with shoddily hidden annoyance.
âSo which one is cost and which one is accrual again, Sir?â
                   Division of Labor
"I told you. I'll handle the accounting," Hange said. "We can make this work." Her words were not at all assuring.
It was Wednesday afternoon. They had submitted their selection for their house that afternoon in class so that meant no more takebacks. Their house plans were due midnight and Levi was not even halfway done. To add insult to injury, Levi was still reeling from Zekeâs lecture just a few hours ago.
Initially, Hange had suggested they buy the furniture in installments. The prospect of buying in installments though became all the more terrifying with the accounting system Zeke had introduced to them that day and the weight of a negative balance sheet on their grades.
As soon as you buy something and enter into debt, the money owed is not yours anymore. Levi shuddered as those words echoed in his head. He narrowed his eyes at Hange. "Really Hange? Can we? After deciding to spend half your salary each month on an unfinished 3 bedroom house?" Levi asked as he gestured to their next tall order that stretched over two aisles. They were in the baby's section in the supermarket.
It was their third round around that aisle, trying to look for a brand of diaper and a brand of formula that would not cost them a total of 400 dollars a month.
âI mean, we still have 800 dollars on groceries if we put our furniture installments budget at 1000 dollars a month,â Hange explained. âSo if we spend 400 dollars on baby stuff, we should have 400 left.â
â400 dollars for a monthâs worth of meals for a family of four.â Levi clarified. âThere must be something here we could choose not to spend on.â Or maybe we could find a cheaper place to buy things in. Levi thought back to the supermarket nearer to his house and made a mental note to check it. The output was due on Friday anyway.
"Hey, Armin and Annie are here too!" Hange said enthusiastically.
Too enthusiastically. Levi clarified to himself. That was not at all good news. If other groups were going to that supermarket, that must mean they think they have the financial leeway to spend there, That could also possibly mean he and Hange had somehow fucked up financially as a pair, struggling to make ends meet. Armin was a studious student with a good head on his shoulders and he chose to shop in a more expensive supermarket. Are we spending too much?
"Let's ask ArminâŠ" Levi did not need to finish his sentence. By the time, he looked to his side, where Hange stood or at least was supposed to be standing, the latter was already on her way to the blond boy..
Levi did not waste anytime. As Hange chatted up Armin, Levi made a few rounds through the two aisles again, his phone calculator on hand.
Just in case. Levi told himself. Just in case they had miscalculated the minimum expense of 400 dollars.
                   Division of Labor
Hange had a long talk with Armin. By that point, Levi had lost count of the number of rounds he had made around the aisle. He had stopped counting at five. He had done his research on discounts and made some fake accounts and the expense still clocked at $390 dollars.
By the time he and Hange called it quits, the sun was setting. Hange seemed lost in thought and she had been that way since she had finished her conversation with Armin. Levi decided to take over keeping both sacks for the night. He made a small detour to the grocery store nearest to his flat. It was smaller, a little dirtier but it meant a little more room for spending and a bigger chance of saving his grade and graduating. Begrudgingly, sanitation became the least of Levi's issues.
He wrote out all the prices of the important items they had seen in the grocery store. When he got home, he made sure to write them all on a google sheet complete with weight, quantity and prices and sent the link to Hange through an instant message. For some reason, he felt a twinge of disappointment when all he received was a heart react in return.
Of course, Hange still had a lot of things to calculate. Even as they separated less than an hour ago, she had seemed distracted. Levi guessed Armin had told her something game breaking about the accounting process.
What did Armin tell you? You need any help?
Will explain soon. Send the meal plan and house design by 9 pls.
Levi managed to submit the meal plan by nine. He had copied and pasted from some random family cooking website, changing a few ingredients to fit what he thought would be cheaper options. He did not need to think too much of it either. He lived a life many would consider the complete opposite of excess and as a result, had mastered the art of improvisation when it came to food.
His main problem lay with the floor plan of the house. Hange had agreed to handle worrying about the expenses. That was one problem out of his plate.
Even with the money problem out of his hands, Levi found himself working until late anyway. Or not working⊠Levi was only reminded of his lack of productivity when his phone lit up with a notification.
11:00pm
Hange Zoe
Where??????
Levi only realized then that he had gotten a little carried away with the problem of where to put the washing machine.
                 Division of Labor
It was a genius idea.
That Wednesday night, only a few hours before the house plan was due, Levi had had fifty tabs open from German and Japanese house designers showing bathrooms and laundry room designs highlighting the novelty and practicality of putting the washing machine in the bathroom. Levi had spent hours pondering the logistics of making it work for the house design Hange had sent him only for her to shoot down the idea an hour before the housing plan was due.
They rented an American style house with a bathroom in every bedroom and the impracticality had dawned on him particularly when it was fifteen minutes to 12am and they were still arguing in chat over how to design the house. In the end, Hange had gotten her way, having brought up the issue of accounting furniture and the fact that they probably did not even have the financial leeway to pay for a washing machine anyway.
Having to deal with the disappointment of losing the opportunity to design the house the way he wanted to and having his unfinished design shipped off to Erwinâs email, with little regard for the effort he had put into the intricacy of both the toilets and the laundry room, Levi was a little pissed. He also considered the fact that he had respected the effort and detail Hange had put into choosing a house and had allowed her to submit a potentially overpriced and unfurnished house as their final product.
And she could not even reciprocate the respect for his whims.
Levi decided then to take a break from it all. It was a silent agreement on both ends. Or there was no need for an agreement anyway. They had finished their deliverables for the week by Thursday.
Everyone had ended up cramming theirs anyway and Levi found himself walking home alone and spending his time outside school hours bingeing whatever was new on Netflix.
By Monday, Levi had not expected to do much. Their breakdown of responsibilities was due Friday, 12am on Thursday to be exact according to the file that Erwin had sent. It was a one page paper with a few questions that just needed answering. They could easily start on Tuesday or Wednesday.
Levi wanted to spend at least just his Monday, peacefully, not considering the program which has been plaguing the start of their junior year since Shadisâ announcement just a week ago. He allowed himself to clear his mind, making sure to just note on his phone to start on the next output by Wednesday. Hange would probably remind him anyway.
He had deluded himself well into thinking the adulting program was limited to those once a week outputs. An announcement was made to meet in the kitchen after lunch for home economics class. His mood that Monday had him living in complete denial of what could actually go on in a school kitchen and for some reason, Levi imagined having a lecture in the kitchen was a completely normal expectation, even with the reminder to bring aprons and gloves. Maybe we just need to put them in lockers or something.
As the students filed in though, some of them panicked and that was when Levi figured out that something was not right. The counters were all lined up with ingredients. Some of the students had recognized the ingredients. Levi looked to Hange to see that she was blank on what the hell the pattern was behind the types of ingredients set out.
There were the essentials--- flour, sugar, eggs. There were exotic ingredients Levi could not even name or pronounce.
âCardamom, Star Anise, Rose water. What the hell?â It was Jean speaking from behind Levi.
âIâm glad you see the pattern. Iâm assuming that means youâll all do well?â Erwin waited while the rest of the class filed into the room before he raised his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. âToday weâll be having a pop quiz just to make sure you all know what youâre writing when you make the meal plans. In the tables assigned to you, you will see the ingredients for one of the meals you put in your meal plan. Please use them accordingly to make a full course meal from what you had submitted.â
Levi could not remember for the life of him what the hell he had put in that meal plan a week back
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