#my boss is just too nice to lay me off even though my work produces almost no business value 😭 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

teasty · 4 years ago

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hold on tight || b.c (m)

"hi! can you write something about streetracer!chan x f reader where things got heated up 🥺🥺 i really like your works by the way, kiss yourself really is one of my jisung’s fav fic !!" - anon

a/n: holyashjdljzhldsa just the thought of streetracer!chan makes me... omg i don’t even KNOW, i'd actually go crazy... and omg tysm! that means so much to me :,( and you're gonna have to excuse me since there's so many things heated could mean i'm just gonna make it angsty and smutty,, also kinda went off for a fluffy ending because it's bang chan, the christiano bangnaldo, how can i not???

● pairing: bang chan x (fem) reader

● genre: a lil bit of fluff at the beginning | angst | smut (mdi!)

● requested? yes!

● words: 8.7k

→ summary:

You’ve never known about your boyfriend’s secret and very illegal job, if you could even call it that.

"Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight 'cause it's gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling."

It’s a cold, rainy night. You’re waiting comfortably on the couch, sitting there wrapped up in one of Chan’s blankets, waiting ever so patiently for his return. He’s not usually out this late, neither did his job usually end this late. Your mind was getting the worst kinds of ideas as you held your phone in your hand, more worry than anger coming over you. You couldn’t be mad at him, really, you were just worried something happened to him, since he wasn’t picking up your calls or even looking at your texts.

It’s around midnight, and you swore you wouldn’t sleep until you watched Chan, in all his glory, walk through the front door of your guys’s shared apartment. You’ve been dating Chan for years, ever since high school. And, now, even after graduating college and finding a stable job and apartment, Chan still tended to keep things from you. It was a bad habit of his, yes, but you couldn’t really be too mad at him for it. Besides, you’ll be able to help him out of that habit. Once he comes back, at least.

To wait, you decided to watch a bit of television to let your mind wander from the thought of something bad happening to Chan. Of course, the subtle thought of him cheating crossed your mind a few times, but Chan’s only ever been the most loyal and dedicated boyfriend, even past his pretty hard shell. He acts pretty tough sometimes, but you know that he’s just a little bit insecure about himself on the inside. Which, to you, is completely normal. Everyone’s at least a little bit insecure. You couldn’t blame him for that.

Getting with Chan was actually very difficult at first. You both had a rocky start before you started dating, since Chan was kind of like the cliche popular bad boy, and you were the snarky book nerd. You both started off arguing and bickering about everything. But, when you both got closer and closer, you began to see a softer, kinder side to him. And, like magic, you two started dating. You don’t really remember how it happened. It might’ve been just Chan saying, “Wanna date me?” or something like that just ‘cause it’s simple. However, getting it past your parents about your relationship with Chan was the most difficult in the world. They did not approve of him whatsoever. Even today, they’re still cautious of him even though Chan’s already proven his loyalty to you and swore to your parents that he’d never lay an aggressive finger on you.

You’re parents didn’t really like him because of his choice of outfits and friends, which was a stupid way to judge somebody in your opinion. So, no matter how many times they tried to break things off or distance you from Chan, you two always found your way back to each other. Though it was fun, all the sneaking out at three in the morning, saying you’re going over to a friends house when you’re really going to go see Chan and all the late night calls in a hushed tone, you’re glad you can finally relax about it and live peacefully with Chan without the need to sneak around.

But, your mind hasn’t been so peaceful these last few hours. There’s still no sign of Chan and no opened messages. You gave up on calling him after the fifth call had gone unanswered, and just decided to wait. Clutching your phone to your chest in case he were to call or text. Your eyes switch between the screen and the front door (which led into the living room).

You nearly jumped out of your blanket when your phone started ringing obnoxiously loud. Your heart beat loudly as you scrambled to look at the caller’s I.D. And, thankfully, it’s Chan. You’ve never answered so quickly.

“Chan?” Your excited voice squeaked out when you brought the phone close to your ear, a bright smile etching over your lips. Just happy that he’s in contact with you.

“Hey, darling,” Chan’s voice was husky and tired, and a little deeper than you remember. He must be exhausted, and you wondered if he had to stay late at work, “I’m so sorry for being out late. I’ll be home soon.”

“Alright… Is everything okay? What were you doing out so late?” You ask carefully, wrapping the blanket tightly around you.

“Work. My boss had me work over time. I would have texted you, but I was pretty busy,” in the distance, you can hear the sound of his car’s engine. He must be driving pretty fast. Chan also has a really nice car he saved up for and worked really hard for. It’s a smaller, good looking and really, really fast car. You could recognize that engine anywhere.

“Oh… I’m sorry about that,” You respond after a moment.

“It’s alright. Nothing to worry too much over,” you can hear Chan’s smile even through the phone, “And, by the way, could you do something for me before I get home?”

“Sure.”

“Could you make me something small to eat? I didn’t have the chance to eat dinner at work. If you could do that, that’d be so great, baby.” Chan says, and you get up off of the couch. Already heading for the kitchen.

“I could make you some jjajangmyeon? We have all the ingredients,” you say, surfing through your pantry.

“That’d be great, (Y/N). Thank you,” Chan sighs through the phone, and you pull out the ingredients.

“Of course. When will you be home?” You ask before he could hang up.

“I’ll be home in the next ten to fifteen minutes, at the least.” He says, and you can hear the engine get a little bit louder behind him, “I have to focus on the road. I’ll be home soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you, too, Chan.” You respond, and hang up. Now with the satisfaction and the relief of knowing Chan’s coming home, you separate the ingredients out and start cooking (thank god you took that home economics class back in high school. You couldn’t cook for shit before that). Since Jjajangmyeon is a pretty slow cooked dish, you try your best with temperature control to fit it into the timeframe for when Chan gets home, wanting it to be ready for him.

You had your hair tied back as you cooked, occasionally looking up to watch the television, which was still on the random news channel from before. It talked about things you weren’t too interested in, so you only kept it on for background noise.

You were so immersed in cooking, you didn’t even notice the door slamming open and closed and a pair of heavy footsteps walking up to the kitchen. You jumped when Chan’s arms wrapped around your waist, his chin planting itself on your shoulder. He laughs tiredly at your reaction, and you turn to give him a subtle glare, but your smile deceived you.

“Hey, baby. I’m sorry for coming home so late. I promise it wasn’t my intention,” Chan grumbles out, his words low and slightly slurred, mostly because he’s tired.

“It’s alright, don’t apologize,” you chuckle softly as you arrange two portions of the jjajangmyeon into two different bowls. Chan watches silently over your shoulder, “I’m just glad you’re home. You worried me. Please text me next time, before you stay overtime and don’t bother texting me. I worry a lot, you know?”

“I know, (Y/N). I know you worry too much for your own good,” Chan smiles softly, chuckling tiredly, “It’s one of the reasons I love you so much.”

You smile, flustered, and raise a warm hand to press against Chan’s cheek, turning your head to press a loving kiss to his temple, which is cold, even in the warm kitchen. “Dinner’s ready. Do you want to eat in bed?”

“Not if you’ll make me do the dishes directly afterwards,” Chan lets go of you to take his dish, and you take yours.

You cock a brow at him, “I was going to make you do them anyways. You’re not getting out of it that easily.” You giggle and tap his nose with the tip of your finger. “Come on. Take mine, too. I’ll shut everything down.” You hand your bowl to Chan, who takes it quickly as you scurry around, turning off the television. Turning off lights and putting the dishes in the sink.

Once Chan’s changed into more comfortable wear and you’re both comfortable in bed, watching some show on the TV while eating. Time at home was usually like this; relaxing. You’re cuddled up to Chan while he ate slowly. Once you both finished, you placed them on the nightstands for the time being.

Chan was asleep instantly. You were up a bit longer, still a bit run on adrenaline from worrying so much earlier, despite knowing you have to be up early for work. Chan didn’t have to work till the afternoon, but you had to be up early since you’re a librarian at the local public high school. Chan’s an assistant producer and works under a decently big entertainment company. It’s quite the drastic difference, but you being a pretty big book worm yourself, you decided it would be fun to be a librarian (mostly using your literature degree), even if it’s stressful at times. Chan’s work, however, is much more tedious than your own. Where you can usually go at your own pace, he has more strict deadlines and sometimes more difficult work.

So, you let Chan sleep on your stomach. His arms wrapped around you securely as his face nuzzled into the soft fabric of the oversized shirt you were wearing. You were up a bit longer, watching the TV while running your hands through Chan’s soft hair. Enjoying the moment for the time being before you, yourself, drifted off into a deep sleep.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You were the first one to wake up the next morning, per usual. You woke up to your alarm that Chan thankfully slept through. You got ready as quickly and quietly as you could. Since you work in a pretty professional environment, you wear something modest, but fits well with the fall weather and your fashion style. You wore a white long sleeved shirt and a pair of black slacks under a jacket with your university’s logo on it and a pair of sneakers. They weren’t too big on dress code for the teachers at the school, but the students still had to wear uniforms.

Before you left, you made Chan lunch for the day and yourself a lunch. You even bothered to wake him up briefly to give him a kiss goodbye and that you’ll be back early afternoon, although he’ll probably be at work, then. Chan, although three fourths asleep, gave you a tight hug and a kiss with a slurred ‘Love you’ before plopping back onto the bed and instantly falling back asleep.

Although Chan had quite the expensive car, he wasn’t quite fond of you driving it. You have your own car, and it’s fine. Mostly used to drive to and from work and nothing more, since most other things you were with Chan, so you both usually took his car. It’s not so much a matter of richer and poorer, his car just had more little trinkets and things that are just more convenient. You’re not completely sure what model his car is, all you know is that it’s expensive.

The school isn’t too far. It’s actually a ten minute drive from your apartment. You have to make it there pretty early, so the roads aren’t jam packed like they would be when Chan has to drive to work. So, you have a bit of an advantage there. When you get there, you’re met with the people in the front office, who bow respectfully to you, and you make your way to the library.

You set up at the large, round desk. You especially like being a librarian, because it’s quiet. You don’t think you’d do too well as a teacher, so you settled for a librarian since it was a good and easy way to use your literature degree and put it to good use, other than the fact you’re writing a novel, but that’s a whole other story (hehet).

It’s about half an hour before some students pile in, bidding you good morning and sitting down at the tables to study for whatever assignment or test they have, or to finish homework. Some of them go around to look at books, but most just sit by their lonesome and work on whatever while blasting profane music into their poor ears.

You were busying yourself going through overdue books, and emailing parents about student’s overdue books. You were immersed in your work, so you were somewhat shocked when someone tapped your shoulder. When you turned, you were met with the smiling face of your coworker. A middle aged, pretty woman named Jung Migyeong, who gave you the permission to call her ‘unnie’. She’s considerably your work - best friend. She’s the only person who really delved into conversation with you, unlike most of the other teachers who only talked to you about whatever book they’re class reading or for book suggestions (and you just choose the first book in the library that comes to mind).

“Oh, you scared me!” You giggle in a hushed tone, and Eunmi smiled brightly, her motherly aura giving you a sense of calmness.

“Sorry, sorry!” Eunmi sits on your desk, more leaning against it. Eunmi is really a pretty lady. Her hair is cut short to her shoulders, and she never wears makeup. Her natural tone is without blemishes or acne. She always wears pretty dresses to work, and she always carries around her purse for some odd reason. “I wanted to catch up with you. I didn’t realize you were so immersed in your work. I should’ve known, you’re more responsible than half the teachers here.”

“I try, I really do,” You respond, leaning back in the chair and smiling up at her, “Do you have a free period for the first hour?”

Eunmi nods, “Yes, I do. They switched it up just ‘cause of something wrong in the student's schedules. But, that’s past the point. How have things been going? In the home life?”

You shrug a shoulder, your smile dropping, “It’s… going. My boyfriend didn’t come home until, like, twelve - thirty last night. He said he had to stay late for work, but I don’t get it, Eunmi. He wouldn’t answer my calls or texts, and I don’t think his job prevents him from at least opening a text until he gets off, you know?”

“You said he’s a producer, right?” Eunmi asks, her head tilting down to look at you more clearly. You nod, “Well, he might’ve been busy with the idol. It’s pretty difficult work, I’m surprised he’s been able to keep up with it well.”

“Well, he came home hungry and tired,” you sigh again, “Which is weird because if he stays late he usually grabs something from the kitchen at the company building or fast food and eats it before he comes home. But, he was hungry… not super hungry, but I made him jjajangmyeon.”

"Jajangmyeon?" Eunmi’s head tilts, and one brow lifts and she scoffs, “That’s like a fifty minute dinner.”

“Not if you toy around with the temperatures, no,” you smile, and Eunmi shrugs a shoulder, “Eh, I was the one who suggested it to him. It’s one of his favorites, and he sounded exhausted and overworked so I though, you know, might as well. But, after eating, he was out like a light. You wouldn’t think that producing would make someone so tired.”

“You never know,” Eunmi reassures, “You seem to be really worried about this. You don’t think he’s cheating, do you?”

You quickly shake your head, “No, no! I know him, and I know that he would never do that to me. I think he’s just trying to hide something from me. I’m not mad at him, I just don’t want him to keep anything from me.”

“You’re not mad… yet!” Eunmi corrects, and your lips purse, “If he’s really hiding something from you, it must be pretty big. I would personally be surprised if you were able to keep your temper if you found out whatever it is he’s hiding. Cheating or not.”

You’ve never really been one to get extremely mad or even start arguments. As said before, you and Chan did have petty arguments back in high school, but since then, you’ve both matured. Chan always shut down a fight if you were getting too agitated, and you were usually never the first one to start up an argument, since your patience isn’t as thin as before. You will admit, though, you’d be decently upset if you found out Chan really was hiding something from you. You trust him so much, you thought there should’ve been nothing to hide.

“I suppose you’re right,” you lean your head against your hand, resting your elbow on the desk, “If there’s a good chance, I’ll talk to him about it tonight. If I want things to really work out with him, then there has to be complete trust and honesty with each other.”

“That’s the spirit,” Eunmi proudly says, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with him, unnie,” you admit shamelessly, and Eunmi smiles wistfully, “I want to grow old with him. But I don’t want to live waking up every day at four in the morning and coming home to no one for hours on end. And, sometimes he won't come till midnight or morning.”

“Well, my husband and I used to have a lot of secrets, too. That we kept from each other,” Eunmi admits, reassuring you that you’re not the only one going through something like this, “The only way we were able to sort things through was by sitting down and talking to each other. Just telling all of our secrets to each other, even if they’re embarrassing or stupid. Just knowing the fact that we can trust each other with everything gives us that reassurance that we’re meant to be. Honesty is everything.”

You look down, thinking about the advice Eunmi had just given you, and you swallow down the growing lump of frustration in your throat, “Thank you for the advice, unnie. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course. I’m always free to talk, and you have my number if anything happens,” Eunmi smiles fondly, “And my doors are always open to you. I’ve spoken to my husband about you and he said that he’s always willing to keep our doors open. Just in case anything happens. You can’t be too careful, right?”

“Right,” you smile, flustered by Eunmi’s kindness, “Thank you so much. I’m… you’re right. If the worst of the worst happens and I’m booted out of my own apartment, then I’m at least glad to know that there’s some place I can go to that’s not three cities over.”

Eunmi laughs softly, and you laugh along with her, “I’m glad. Anyways, it’s about that time. I’m going to start heading back to my classroom. Let Chan know that I said hello, and that I wish you both well. Good luck, (Y/N).”

“Thanks, unnie. I’ll call you later,” you wave briefly as Eunmi makes her way out of the library, students bowing briefly to her as she passes.

You’re glad to have a friend like Eunmi. You’re lucky to have someone open their doors to you. Sometimes, you wonder if Eunmi views you as a younger sister, since she constantly rambles on and on about how she loves being called unnie or noona by her younger coworkers, even if she’s among the younger teachers. She’s like the sister you’ve never had. Sure, things had to be professional, but you’d like to spend more time with her out of the workplace. That would be fun.

The rest of the day is pretty slow. You had a few classes come in to pick up literature books, math books and to check out some books, but that was really it. You didn’t see Eunmi again, and left a few hours after the school closed. There was a bit of traffic on the way home, but it was mostly cleared up.

When you got home, you weren’t surprised to be met with an empty house. No sign of Chan, except the lunch you made him was gone, meaning he took it with him, thankfully, and he left a cute little note on a sticky note saying his thanks to you for making it for him. Which he usually did for you (you never bothered to throw them away. You actually kept them all in a little cigar box for safekeeping. Why? You didn’t know. You just felt like it.)

Like every day when you come home, you change into a pair of more comfortable clothing, which was just one of Chan’s hoodies you took out of his side of the closet, and a pair of ripped jeans. Since Chan didn’t do the dishes before he left, like you thought he would, you decided to do them to pass the time. In doing so, you turned on the TV for some background noise as you rolled up your sleeves to start scrubbing the dishes.

However, your attention was soon caught by the TV when the regular news anchor started talking about crime. At first, it was just about a robbery that took place in uptown, and that didn’t really suit your interest. What did catch your attention, enough to turn off the faucet and ignore the dishes to watch the TV, was when an all - too familiar black car with tinted windows and no license plate appeared on the screen, and there was a red car, too, but you didn’t recognize that one.

You turned up the volume, “Today, police are trying to look for these cars with no license plates caught on camera last night. They were suspected to be illegally street racing and gambling last night at around eleven o’ clock at night before being caught on security footage of a hotel nearby. If you can identify these cars, please contact the police immediately. One has been identified as a black Ferrari SF90 Stradale. The other has yet to be identified. If you see anything suspicious on the streets, please contact authorities. Here’s a clearer picture of both cars.”

And, that’s when it sparked you. One of the pictures of the black Ferrari was of the front. Despite the tinted window, you could clearly see a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the mirror and a familiar hand gripping the wheel tightly. How could you recognize it? Despite the low quality, you can see a familiar ring on the middle finger. A celtic design Chan loved so much.

“Oh… my fucking god,” your mouth drops open as realization hits, and you immediately dash to the bedroom to yank open Chan’s dresser drawer, one left vacant for paperwork to “keep things safe”, and you pull out his insurance for his car. And, there it is, in plain sight. Ferrari SF90 Stradale. Color; black. Windows; tinted. At first, shock pools through you. Doubt climbing up. There’s no way Chan’s a criminal. There’s no way that he’s the one in the Ferrari. It has to be someone else.

But, there was only one way to find out. You had to be sure it was him.

So, you grabbed your purse and your keys and threw on a pair of slip - on vans. The sun was already setting, and you nearly forgot to lock up before running to your car. Barely unlocking it before you throw yourself into it, not even bothering to buckle your seatbelt before driving off to god knows where. Your gut leading you, immediately driving towards the area shown on the news. You pull out your phone, trusting the wheel in one hand as you pull up Chan’s profile and call him, pressing the phone to your ear.

The ringing carries on and on until the familiar voice of Chan speaks up, telling you that he’s not available and to leave a message after the beep.

“Oh, fuck off!” You scream at your phone before trying to call him again. Again and again it led to voicemail. Voicemail after voicemail. You couldn’t text him, not with you driving.

After the tenth call, you let out a frustrated yell, hitting your wheel with your palm and trying your best not to cry. You might be overreacting, since there’s a large chance that it isn’t Chan. But, for some reason, you believed it. You believed, at least somewhat, that it was Chan’s car. That it was Chan in the car. You didn’t want to believe it, but you did.

And your questions coursing through your mind were soon answered when you pulled up to the spot from the news, it now twilight, the sun just being set over the city’s horizon. You pulled onto an empty freeway, and parked in an alley between two buildings. There’s a group of people and a ton of expensive cars around the freeway. There were people crowded around a table. Some girls sat on top of cars, talking and laughing to each other while wearing vulgar and revealing clothes. Your brows furrow, deciding to stay low for a while. You turn off the engine to your car and watch carefully, gripping your phone in your hand. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, popping beer bottles, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

But, it’s when the sound of a loud engine came into earshot, and everyone, including you, turned to see the source of the sound. The moment the crowd of people see who it is, they start to cheer loudly. Throwing up their hands. However, your mouth falls open once more as the black Ferrari SF90 Stradale with tinted windows and a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the rear - view mirror. It pulls up to the crowd, and they all part to make way for it.

Instead of shock or sadness, anger and rage begins to boil inside of you, and you grip your steering wheel tightly as you watch Chan, Christopher Bang, step out of the car. People pat his shoulder, and he smiles widely at them. Giving a few people hugs and even smiling to some of the women, who tried to steal a hug from him, too. He’s wearing clothes you don’t ever remember seeing. He wears a black leather jacket over a white button up and black skinny jeans. You’d be impressed by how good he looks if you weren’t so upset.

You didn’t even have to look at your phone as you pulled up Chan’s profile and called him, pressing the phone roughly to your ear.

“Pick up… Pick the fuck up,” you grumble under your breath as you watch Chan. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and looks at it briefly.

Not even hesitating to hang up.

As you heard the familiar sound of Chan’s sweet voice telling you he’s not available at the moment and to leave a message after the beep, you finally have enough courage to get out of your car. Slamming the door shut and making your way out of the alley. They’re not too far, but it's a long enough walk for you to catch the eye of some people. You don’t even pause to rethink your decisions when a girl taps the chest of one of the guys, who glares at you with a raised brow.

The man that glared at you stepped away from the crowd, and you could barely see Chan over the people. He walks over to you, and you stop when the man is right in front of you, peering down you. The smell of cheap beer oozing off of him.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Chan’s girlfriend, now get the fuck out of my way,” you try to push past him, but he grabs you by the arm. Tightly, too. Probably tight enough to leave a bruise after a while. “Hey! Let go of me.”

“No can do, princess,” the man says, smirking mercilessly down at you, his grip not loosening one bit, “Whether or not you’re Chan’s bitch doesn’t matter to me. It’s either you leave or I take you home and we have a good time. Well, I will, at least.” So, you tried to yank your arm from his, trying your best not to use your free hand to punch him in the face.

“Where’s Chan? Bring him to me.” You demand, and the man scoffs, chuckling.

“Fine, have it your way,” the man turns his head towards the crowd, a few people watch, and he says, “Grab Chan. This chick says she’s his girlfriend.” A few of them laugh at him, thinking it’s a joke. But, you stand your ground, glaring through the crowd. One of the people that laughed pushed through a few people. It takes a minute, and there’s a tense silence between you and the man as you try to pry his hand off.

But, as you suspected, a smiling Chan pushes through, but his smile instantly drops when he sees you.

“Hey, Chan. This chick’s babbling on about being your girl. Should I kick-”

“Get your hands off her right now before I shoot you in the face.” Chan interrupts, anger lacing his dark, deep voice. The man holding your arm instantly lets go and steps away, his hands rising in defense. Mumbling something about just ‘trying to keep things safe’. Once the man is away, Chan walks up to you, now being the one tightly gripping your arms. Leaning down so his face is close to yours.

“Why are you here, (Y/N)? Why the hell are you here?” He asks harshly, his voice full of surprise and desperation. He even shakes you slightly.

“You seriously thought I wouldn’t find out?” You snap, ignoring his question all together, “You thought I was dumb enough to let this go under? Well, I’ve been dumb for too long, Christopher. I’m not going to be like that anymore.” You know he’s not too big a fan of being called by his real name, but you do it anyway.

“Go home (Y/N). I’ll explain everything to you afterwards.” Chan says, placing a hand on your shoulder, trying to turn you away.

“No!” You yell, pushing his arms off you, “I am not going home, Chan! I am staying with you. I need to know what the hell all of this is. Right. Now.” You demand, and Chan shakes his head.

“No. You’re going home, (Y/N),” Chan tries to push you away again, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly and trying to turn you from the curious crowd. However, you weren’t going to be let off so easily. You swiftly turned around, letting your flying hand come in contact with Chan’s cheek. Smacking him. You made sure not to backhand him, knowing how much that could hurt. Besides, you don’t want to hurt him too much, you just want to get your point across, and he wasn’t listening to your words. He lets go of you again, his head flinging to the side because of the impact.

“I said no. I’m staying here,” You repeat yourself, and Chan’s eyes no longer lace with aggression, but worry. He doesn’t seem upset that you hit him. In fact, he seems to gloss over it. “I need to know what’s going on-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence until Chan grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into the crowd. They part to make way for him, and you aren’t able to muster out a sentence before Chan unlocked his car and shoves you forcefully into the passenger seat.

“Chan, what -”

“Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight ‘cause it’s gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling,” Chan snaps, and your lips clamp close at his harsh words. You didn’t expect that out of him. You could nearly cry right there. Chan backs away and slams the door shut, and you quickly scramble to put the seatbelt on as Chan yells something at the crowd, and they erupt in cheers. A few people scramble to get into different cars, and the rest stay back, keeping their distance. However, Chan didn’t seem too pleased as he walked around the car and into the passenger’s seat, locking the doors.

“Chan…”

“Quiet,” Chan snaps, revving the engine of the car. You can faintly hear the cheer of the onlookers behind as Chan pulls alongside the other three cars. A young woman wearing small shorts and an exposed shirt too small for fall walks ahead, and pulls a red cloth out of her back pocket. Her red lips smile bright as she lifts her red cloth. She holds up one finger, and Chan’s engine growls from behind, the car shaking along with it. Your hands go to grip the first thing, which is the cup holder in the center console and the door. Bracing yourself for what’s about to happen.

“Chan!”

“I said quiet!” Chan yells, sparing you a glance and your brows creased with worry as the woman holds up a second finger, and Chan’s hand grips the wheel as the other rests over the buttons.

She doesn’t hold up a third finger. Instead, she throws down the red cloth, and the moment she does so, Chan is off on the road. His foot slammed against the gas as he pushed his back against the seat and used one hand to effortlessly steer. You feel so impossibly scared in the car. A small part of you was debating whether or not you should have gone home, but you knew that it was the right decision to stay. To truly understand what’s been going on and what this is all about.

You try your best not to scream as the loud engine nearly bursts your eardrums.

“Chan… Chan, stop the car!” You scream, the need to vomit creeping up, even though you try to gulp it down.

“I can’t, (Y/N). I really can’t right now.” He says loudly over the engine.

“Please, Chan, just stop the car…!” You yell out again, and Chan finally glances at you, seeing your distressed look before his head snaps ahead again.

His hand swiftly reaches over to grip your thigh, as if trying to prove that you’re secure, “Calm down, (Y/N). You’ll be fine. We’re fine. I’m not stopping the car. Sorry, but I just can’t.”

“I should hate you for this, Chan!” You say, and you can see the way his knuckles turn white from gripping the wheel. “But I can’t… I just… Goddamn it, why!?”

“I can’t tell you that right now!” He yells back, looking over briefly before making a sharp turn, making you clutch onto the seat belt for protection, his hand now back over the buttons, “You just need to sit there until this is over, got it? I don’t care how scared you are, you’re gonna get through it like the strong woman you are, (Y/N), and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You look over to Chan, and his lips are downturned, his brows furrowed and his eyes glossed over, as if he could cry right there.

“But why didn’t you just tell me?! We wouldn’t be like this right now if you just told me, Chan, and that’s the truth.” You yell over the engine, and Chan bitterly and breathily chuckles, shaking his head as an angry smile casts over his lips.

“You wouldn’t have stayed with me if I told you, (Y/N), you know that.” His voice is a little softer. If any softer, you wouldn’t have heard him. “You would’ve left me.”

Your mouth falls open, and you shake your head, “Never… Never! Never, ever, accuse me of that. I would never leave you even if you killed a man, Chan, and that’s the truth!” He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at you as he turns another sharp corner, and you can see the other cars following behind, closing in. He sees it, too, and he presses some buttons you didn’t bother reading and slams his foot on the gas again. You let out a deep breath, still clutching the seat belt, “I just want to know why, Chan. Why are you resulting to this even though you have a stable job at the entertainment company, I-... I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I’ll tell you later, (Y/N). Just sit tight and keep your mouth shut. I need to focus or we’ll fucking crash, you got it!” He yells, and you flinch at his harsh tone. Finally keeping quiet.

The race seems like it lasts forever, when it was probably only five minutes. With sharp twists and turns and screeching of the engine in wheels, it feels like torture. You hate this, but there’s no backing out yet.

Chan doesn’t utter a word. Only cursing at the other cars when they do something that they weren’t supposed to do, or somehow start catching up to him. You let a few tears slip as you watch his hands and Chan as he focuses solely on the road. The lump in your throat is growing bigger and bigger, and swallowing it down seems to get more and more difficult.

But, it’s over at some point. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and Chan finally slowed down after reaching a pathetic excuse of a finish line. Your trembling hands grip the hem of the hoodie you were wearing as Chan comes to a steady stop. People come cheering as the other three cars pull up behind, being careful not to bump into anyone from the crowd. You breath heavily, and look over to Chan, who rolls down his window, plastering a triumphant smile on his lips.

“I don’t even get why I race against you, mate. You always win. Just take the money and get outta here,” says one of the racers playfully, tossing Chan a briefcase through the window.

“Thanks man. Good race,” Chan says, “Now, I have business to attend to. If you’ll excuse me.”

He rolls up the window, and the man who handed Chan the briefcase smacks the window playfully as Chan rushes off, his smile instantly vanishing as he goes through backgrounds to try and get to a main road without drawing too much attention. Chan’s smile drops, and he hands you the briefcase.

“You want to know so badly? Open it and be careful. It’ll be hell to clean up if you drop it,” Chan grumbles, looking over as you look to him for reassurance. He only gives you a cocked brow as you look back to the case in your lap before unlocking it and opening it. Your jaw falls as you look at the thousands of bills stacked on top of each other, rubber bands holding equal stacks together, and you gawk at just how much money Chan won from one race.

After a minute of you staring at the money, Chan slams the case closed in your lap, locking it with one hand and tossing it in the backseat making you jump at how hasty he is.

You both sit there, Chan driving to god knows where in tense silence. You're holding your head in your hands as Chan shifted his gaze between you and the road.

It’s about fifteen minutes until you look up, surprised that he’s still driving and nowhere near home. It’s an emptier city, but Chan seems to know the area well.

“Chan, where are we?” You ask, but Chan gives no answer. Only driving a bit further before pulling into an alley between two old buildings. “Chan, I said -”

You were quickly by Chan yanking off his seatbelt and leaning over the center console to firmly grab your face and pull you into a rough kiss. It isn’t too rushed, but it’s not at all gentle. You’re caught by surprise at first, but couldn’t help melting into it. It’s almost instinct at this point to kiss him back, but you push him away after a moment. “What… What the fuck are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” Chan answers briefly before grabbing locks of your hair at the back of your head and pulling you into another kiss, his other hand creeping down to unbuckle your seatbelt, and you let it slam against the car as it flies off you.

“No, Chan… We need to talk,” You grumble out as you try to pull away, and he presses wet, sloppy kisses to the side of your mouth. His eyes are fluttered shut, and your’s are half lidded. You will admit, you love this. The kisses and how unnaturally aggressive Chan is being. But, you knew that you have to talk things out, or you’d never get to figure out how the hell things turned out like this, “Chan, I’m serious right now.”

“Then relax, baby,” Chan breathily whispers out, and your thighs squeeze together, “Let me make things up to you, okay? I’ll fuck you so good, baby.” He pulls away for a moment, and he stares at you with a teasing smirk, “Think of it as my apology, alright?”

“Chan, I’m… I’m - ah! Chan!” You gasp when Chan’s lips come in contact with the side of your neck. Your neck is already tilting to give him more room, despite trying pathetically to push him away. There’s no getting through to him anymore. You’ve passed the point of no return, and there’s not much you could get past him without slapping him again. And that didn’t seem like a very good idea to you. Your hand flies up to grip the back of his neck, the other loosely clutching the hem of his button up.

“You know that… ah… that we are going to talk about this at some point…” you groan out, and Chan only groans against your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. “You can’t get out of it like this…”

“Shut it, (Y/N),” Chan snaps, and your head falls back. Chan leans his seat back, aggressively grabbing you by the thighs to pull you over and sit on top of him. Straddling his waist despite it being such a tight environment. He pulls you down by the hoodie, into another kiss. You could feel how frustrated Chan is by the way he grips you tightly, as if you’re going to magically vanish, and by how he talks to you.

It’s rushed, too. Chan is impossibly quick to pull up your hoodie, his hot, sweaty hands creeping up your warm back, caressing it with a different, quick sense of gentleness. His lips connect with yours once again. His tongue already pressing against your lips. The quick, sloppy kiss all too lust filled. The erotic sounds coming from the both of you almost making you gloss over the fact that you should still be very mad at Chan. But, you just can’t find the need to pull away from him. You need to let off the steam, too.

You flush your body firm against him, one hand on his chest and the other by his head, holding onto the head of the seat for support. Breathing as slowly as you can through your nose to savor the air Chan so selfishly takes from you from the heated kiss. Your thoughts begin to vanish and your worry and concern for Chan’s life choices begin to falter for the time being. So immersed in the heated kiss to forget about it entirely. All your focus is now on Chan. You can tell how stressed he is, and the loving part of you wants to help him let off that steam. But, now, you’re in the same boat. So, he’s going to have to do so much for you as you’ve been doing for him.

Chan’s hands don’t bother to hesitate before they loop underneath your jeans, not caring to unbutton them as he tries his best to pull them off by himself. Because of how restricted you both are because of the size of the car, you had to do it yourself. You parted from the kiss and pressed your head against his shoulder to unbutton your jeans and pull them down as quickly as you could before throwing them in the back (along with your shoes and socks. You can already see how hard Chan’s gotten as his rough hands massage and knead your ass, only covered by the thin, black cloth keeping you at least somewhat covered. But, if this was like any other time, they’d be gone quicker than you’d imagine.

Your hands fly up again once your pants are thrown to the back, resting on either side of Chan’s head as he grips your hips, grinding your womanhood against his clothed hardon (you’re also clothed, but it’s so wet from your juices that it basically attaches itself to your skin). His head throws itself back, his eyes closing and a pleasure filled smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. You press yourself against him, now propped up to be looming over him, sitting on him.

When you do press against him, his head snaps forward again, and his dark eyes glare up at you, “Don’t start getting proud, (Y/N). I’m gonna fucking break you.” His hand crawls up to grip your face in his hand. One of your hands weakly comes up to grip his wrist. His hand moving down to grip your throat, and your lips part blissfully as his fingers press into the sides of your neck, still allowing airflow through you. “Oh, fuck. You like being choked, huh? You like being choked like a slut don’t you?” You don’t answer, too nervous to and too caught up in the pleasure to actually let something other than a moan escape your lips.

“Talk to me, (Y/N). Use your fucking words,” Chan growls, and you swallow. The lump in your throat pressing painfully, yet blissfully against Chan’s hand.

“Fuck me, Chris. Fuck me…” You utter out his name, and Chan’s brow raises. But, he smirks nonetheless and lets go of your neck, and you let out a breath as he undoes his jeans and pulls them down to his feet. His hand palming his clothed cock briefly before pulling it out. His hard dick already leaking with precum.

“Condom…” You mutter, and Chan shakes his head. You look up to him with worry.

“Trust me, baby,” he mutters, and you sigh, leaning against him, pressing your body against his as Chan moves your panties out of the way before he aligns your throbbing cunt with his dick, and slowly pushing himself into you, raw. As his raw cock slowly becomes engulfed by your heat, Chan lets out low groans. Your face nuzzles into the side of his neck as Chan slowly guides you down until you’re sitting on his cock.

At first, he stays there like that. Not moving. You suspect it’s because the sane part of him wants you to get used to the feeling of his cock so deep in you without a condom, but Chan seems to keep you there for a few moments just for the sake of how good it feels without a condom. The way his head is leaned back, his lips slightly ajar and his eyes fluttered shut.

But, it doesn’t last long before Chan’s strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you up and starts ramming into you. His hips move so quickly, yet so efficiently as he burns your wet walls. You erupt in a series of loud moans, mixtures of Chan’s name and curses spilling out, too. Chan groans sometimes, right next to your ear. The sound of skin slapping against the fabric of Chan’s boxers echoing through the air tight car.

Your pussy burns from how fast Chan thrusts into you, keeping you at a steady position so he could have an easier time ramming himself into you without the difficulty of it being such a confined and restrictive place in the car (especially in the driver’s seat). The burn is so good for you, though. It’s such a numbing, euphoric feeling that you’ll crave later. A type of burn you could never provide yourself, only Chan.

Chan’s hands go from gripping your body to sliding up your side to gripping your hair and yanking your head back so he could look at you. A judgemental, sexy smirk adorning his lips as he sees how fucked out you are. Your mouth open as you moan, and your half lidded eyes occasionally closing from the bliss.

“Fucking hell… you’re so good for me, (Y/N). You take my cock so fucking well, don’t you?” You let out a choked moan as Chan’s hand grips harder on your hair, craning your neck. “Mmm… Baby girl can’t even talk to me… I know I said to shut it…” he laughs darkly through his moans, and your moans get louder when Chan lets go of your hair, letting your face fall back onto his shoulder as his hands grip your ass. Kneading them as he fucks himself into you. You clench helplessly around his cock.

“Oh… fuck, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? You wanna cum around my cock, baby girl?” You nod frantically, your climax climbing up as you push your body back to meet with Chan’s aggressive thrusts. Your overstimulated cunt only being destroyed by Chan’s cock as he thrusts harder into you, his hips staggering slightly as you clench around him. “Mmm! - Cum for me, baby. Cum for me.” Chan growls out as his hand grips your face again, forcing your head up as your eyes roll into the back of your head, a loud string of moans escaping your lips as you cum all over Chan’s cock, and he pulls out just quick enough to spurt out a string of cum along your ass.

He lets go of your face, and you breath heavily as you rest your head on Chan’s chest, closing your eyes to catch your breath. A burning sensation still resting in your core as you relax, your womanhood’s muscles contracting every now and then from the orgasm.

Chan cleans you both up with a napkin he had in the center console and helped you put your jeans back on (deciding to toss your soiled panties) and he slipped his jeans back on silently. It’s not until you’re sitting on his lap, resting your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat when he speaks.

“You know I love you so much, right?” Chan mumbles out, and you look up to him. “I was so mean to you today… when you must’ve been so confused.” His head falls back, and he looks out the window with a longing look in his eyes, “I’m the worst boyfriend in the world, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not. Don’t even think things like that. Yes, I am still a bit upset, but you know what? We’re going to get past this because I love you, too, Channie.” You stare at him with an adoring expression adorning your sparkling eyes (trying to ignore the burning in your core).

“You… You want to know the real reason I’m a street racer, (Y/N)? Why the fuck I'm doing this?” Chan asks softly, his hand stroking your hair.

“If you could… I’ve been asking all day,” you chuckle softly, and Chan smiles bitterly.

“Well… I… I’m doing this all for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“No job will pay for the things I want to give you, (Y/N).” He turns over, reaching into the center console to pull out a black box, and your eyes widen as he opens it. You can’t see it, but you can barely see the sparkle of a something reflective. “I… I couldn’t pay for this myself. I knew I couldn’t. I hate how this is how I’m asking you… but, (Y/N), will you-”

“Oh my god, yes!”

1K notes · View notes

meowniee · 3 years ago

Text

Lee Taeyong - One Shot

Pairing: Female Reader (photographer) x Lee Taeyong (idol)

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 4,2k

Synopsis: Who would have thought that doing a photo shoot with NCT would lead you to stay after your working hours in a room alone with Taeyong...

You were already asleep when you got a call from your boss. One of the photographers who would be working tomorrow had gotten sick and he needed you to go to work in her place. You had been hired a few months ago, but you hadn't worked on any major projects yet, even though your experience in the field is impeccable. He asked you to arrive early tomorrow at the film set and your colleague would explain all the work. You were so excited, it would be your first opportunity to show your talent, whatever job it was.

You could barely sleep and ended up waking up earlier than you needed to. You chose a comfortable outfit, pants and shirt, ate your favorite breakfast, did some very basic makeup, highlighting your cute lips, and went out to the photo set. The day was beautiful with a very blue sky and a shining sun. It was almost 10 am when you arrived at the luxurious hotel where the photos would be. At the entrance, your colleague was waiting for you with an iced coffee in each hand. You greeted each other quickly, thanking her for the coffee, and headed into the hotel, picking up your credentials at the lobby. On the way to the main hall, she explained to you that they would have a big crew today because they were going to photograph a famous K-pop group, NCT127. Each photographer would be responsible for one of them during the individual photos, and the photos would be taken in a hotel room according to the aesthetic that each one wanted. She told you that you would be responsible for Taeyong, the leader of the group. You were shocked. You were just replacing the sick photographer and were you responsible for none other than the GROUP LEADER? “Don't worry, he's an experienced idol. He'll help you with whatever you need. He's also a sweetheart, rest assured”, she said, patting your arm. You sighed in relief. You need to do your best today to take your best pictures. You knew Taeyong and how perfect he was in the photos. His features were sharp and his gaze was deep, the best set for a good model.

It didn't take long for all the photographers and directors to arrive, preparing their cameras, lights and scenery, reviewing the positions and space around them. The beats of their music echoed faintly through the hall. You heard rumbles coming from the entrance to the hall and turned to see what was going on. The boys had arrived along with their security guards and managers. They were mostly in sweats and comfortable clothes, clearly without the luxurious outfits prepared for the photos. Some messy hair, sleepy eyes and yawns accompanied their expression, but that didn't stop you from noticing how beautiful they were. Extremely beautiful. They were talking to each other, sipping their coffee, laughing and settling down next to the staff members. The blonde one, Taeyong, stood in front of them, ceasing their conversation. They greeted all of the staff, bowing and smiling. The director took the lead and made the general introductions. "We will have a team responsible for each member to optimize the work today. Please direct each member to their workstation to begin preparations". He called one name at a time, redirecting the boys to their teams. The makeup artists and hairdressers started to work, preparing their looks according to the references they had received. You stood a little away from him, a little embarrassed, holding your camera. You didn't want to take pictures of him without makeup, respecting his personal space, so you waited until the stylists had finished. He was perfect now, with his hair straight and his makeup done. Soft pink lips emphasized the shape. He was fiddling with his cell phone, waiting for the moment to go change. You approached slowly. “Hi Mr. Lee… I’m Y/n. I am your photographer today”, you introduced yourself, bending a little and unable to look at him. “Hey! Nice to meet you.”. You raised your eyes a little to see him. He was smiling and waving his hand. “I didn't know you. Are you new here?”, he asked. “Yes… Hm… I'm replacing a colleague who couldn't come”, you answered, squeezing your camera in your hands. “If you have any questions or need help, just ask me, okay?”, he smiled and got up to go dress up. You breathed a sigh of relief. You were very nervous and hadn't even realized you weren't breathing properly. He seemed very kind and that made you more relieved.

The group photos were quick. The boys were very professional, they knew exactly what to do, where to look and how to position their bodies. They were very comfortable with the production, playing games with each other but not disturbing each other's work. Everyone's attention was focused on them, always going to fix some hair that was out of place, or some slightly smudged makeup. Words of encouragement from the photographers only made them more excited. You were always watching Taeyong. You needed to learn how he looked at the camera, what angles he preferred and how he liked to pose for pictures. He was the one who looked most comfortable among them all. He wore burgundy pants and a shiny leather jacket, no shirt. Sometimes your eyes locked, making your whole body heat up, and eventually you would shyly look away.

Everyone had lunch at the hotel restaurant and then went to the individual sets. All lights and equipment were mounted. The rooms weren't very big, but the staff was downsized now so you wouldn't have a problem with that. The room had a bed by the window, a sofa across the room, and a rug with wave patterns. The pale colors contrasted with Taeyong's clothes.

Individual photos took longer. Taeyong always stopped to look at the result in the notebook, giving suggestions for light, for angles, praising your photos. You were getting more and more comfortable with him, laughing at the jokes and daring to get closer. “It's almost 7 PM, we should start wrapping up”, you said. He looked at you. “I really want to try some other poses and angles. Y/n, can you stay up a little later?” he asked and you nodded quickly. It was your most important job so far and you would make the most of it. “We won't need the production. You all can go. These photos will be for my personal project. Thank you so much for your hard work today”. He said, turning to the rest of the staff. They thanked and bowed, starting to pack their things and leave the room. You were very happy that he asked you to take more photos for his personal project. So he liked your work, right? You were enjoying working with him too. The conversation and exchange of ideas flowed easily. You quickly understood what he wanted and could reproduce it with your clicks. You had good chemistry together. “I'm going to go down and get my stuff from downstairs and from there we can start, ok?”, you said, opening the door and heading for the elevator. You were very excited... and a little nervous about being alone in a room with him. Quickly grabbing your extra lights and lenses, you went back to the hotel room, thinking of all the angles that could be made there. You knocked on the door before entering. Taeyong had his notebook open, sitting on the couch. The room was cozier now that all the lights were out and there wasn't a lot of equipment in the corners. “I ordered drinks and some snacks for us. We can relax a little while I explain to you what I thought for these photos.”, he said as you put your things down by the couch, sitting on the bed in front of him. “Oh thank you! So… Tell me a little about your project, please”, you asked him. His eyes were shining as he told you about his new album that he produced himself. He was thinking about taking photos to promote digitally. A sexier concept as his songs were very intimate. You really liked everything. He had a very artistic mind and he spoke in a very emotional way.

The snacks arrived and you thanked them, you were starving. At some point you sat next to him on the couch while he showed you pictures he liked, so you could follow the concept. You both finished eating and you got up, “How do you want to start? Maybe on the couch?”, he nodded, crossing his legs and leaning on the sofa, his tiger look appearing again. His duality was incredible. Super cute and adorable off camera, but extremely irresistible on them. His poses were great and you always praised him between them, cheering him on. He lay on his back on the couch, letting his arm fall over the edge, looking directly at you through the camera lens. This was the best photo of the night, for sure. He sat, legs closed, back laying on the couch. If you were your camera right now, you would be melted by his gaze. “Can you take one up close?”, he asked. You positioned yourself very close to his legs, leaning forward to get as close as possible, trying to balance. “You can put your legs around mine. That’s okay”. You did as he said, timidly opening your legs and getting closer to him, his legs between yours. He lay a little more on the couch, flirting with the lenses. Or with you? You didn't know anymore at that point. You tried to get a little closer, but you lost your balance, falling forward. He quickly put his hands around your waist, holding you, making you sit in his lap. “Are you ok?”, he asked. You were so embarrassed, your cheeks were burning. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Thank you”, you whispered. You didn't try to get up and he didn't move either. His hands still gripping your waist, holding you in place. “Maybe a photo this close will be good”, he murmured, lightly squeezing his hands on you. You quickly raised the camera. You thanked you for not having to look him in the eye, but being able to see him through the lens was a really amazing view. You clicked several times, trying to capture the most of the moment. You tightened your thighs around him, getting closer. His hands gently moved down your legs as his gaze traveled over your entire body. He bit his lower lip when you whispered a compliment, letting his head fall back, panting softly. He was enjoying the whole moment, just like you. You took his chin between your fingers and pushed it up, making him face the camera. Your thumb lightly scraping the bitten lip as he opened it slightly. Lowering the camera, you glared into his eyes, pushing your finger slowly between his lips, testing the waters. You let a low moan escape as he ran his tongue over your finger, circling slowly and then closing his lips around it.

Taeyong was so sexy already totally drunk with pleasure underneath you, with labored breathing and huge pupils dilated by arousal. You could almost feel him melt under your touch, giving himself completely. Was this really happening? Or did you hit your head in the elevator and this is all just your mind's creation? The questioning passed quickly when you felt a sharp bite on your finger, pulling you back to reality. Yes, he was there, deliciously sucking your finger like it was the tastiest candy he'd ever had. Putting the camera to one side entirely, you looked deep into his eyes, lifting your head with a defiant look as your fingers tightened inside his mouth, forcing him to open it. He took a deep breath before suddenly grabbing you around the waist and pulling you close to his chest, causing you to lose your balance and fall onto his chest completely, bracing both your hands on the couch behind him. You felt him pushing his hips up against yours just before your lips met. His lips were colder than yours, giving you goosebumps. Quickly devouring each other, the kiss became extremely hot as your tongues twisted against each other, tasting the sweet needy taste. You slipped your hand from his chest, past his neck, into his blonde hair, tangling your fingers in, pressing your mouths even closer, deepening the kiss. A purr resonated through his chest, leaving you extremely excited. He was so responsive to your actions, melting at any gesture, especially when you showed dominance over him.

You let your head fall back, leaving your neck free, guiding Taeyong to kiss you there. Despite the strength of your hand in his hair, he took his time kissing your jaw until he reached the base of your neck, biting and licking near your collarbone. His hands moved up from your hips, working their way under your shirt, reaching the base of your breasts. His hands weren't big, but they hugged your ribs as best they could. Running his hands down your back until he reached your shoulders, he pressed you down, against your prominent volume growing inside his pants, kissing the valley between your breasts through your shirt. You can do nothing but sigh. You grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up, letting Taeyong sink between your breasts, kissing them through the lace of your bra as his deft hands opened it from behind. He pulled back for a moment as he slipped the straps over your shoulder, letting the bra fall between you, quickly tossing it to the side. Admiring your bare breasts, he cupped them both in his hands, massaging them gently, playing with your nipples between his fingers, lightly squeezing, earning a moan from you. Looking deep into your eyes, he brought his pink lips near to your nipple, pressing the tip of his tongue around it before capturing it with his mouth. The other one was being pinched and twirled between his fingers. You could feel your arousal making you wet, pooling in the fabric of your panties. You pressed your hips against his, trying to feel him hard against your clothed core.

You were startled when he quickly flipped you over with your back to the couch, sitting you down and pulling your hips closer to the edge. He found the waistband of your pants and pulled it with his fingers along with your panties, leaving you totally naked. His eyes ran all over your body, burning through every part they passed. Spreading your legs, he positioned in the middle as he sought your lips for another hot kiss. He was still fully dressed and it made you a little embarrassed to be undressed. You took advantage of the fact that he was close and started to open the buttons on his leather coat as he sucked your tongue and left bites on your lips. He helped you finish taking off his coat, throwing it somewhere in the room. He took a moment for you to look at him between your legs, standing up, and appreciate his gorgeous torso, now exposed since he wasn't wearing any shirt. He knelt gracefully between your legs, still looking into your eyes, and placed his hands on the inner part of your thigh, forcing you to spread your legs even further so that he could fit his broad shoulders between them. He brought his lips too close to your wet folds, but he didn't touch, just laid there, breathing hot, making you feel how close he was from your core. You grabbed his hair and forced his head against you, which he gladly accepted, flattening his tongue on your cunt. It didn't take long before he was devouring you hungrily, licking up all of your liquid, sucking on your clit and twisting his tongue around it. It felt great and you moaned his name under your breath, trying not to yell at all the neighbors to hear. You felt your orgasm approaching and began to roll your hips, rubbing yourself against his tongue. You couldn't help when your back arched and the wave of heat spilled over your whole body. He didn't stop sucking on your clit, prolonging the sensation of pleasure as your body writhed with each movement. When the sensation started to get painful from overstimulation, he slipped two fingers inside your wet interior, starting to move them curved, reaching the most sensitive point. You were about to ask him to stop when you felt another orgasm coming. His fingers worked fast in and out of your pussy, rubbing your g-spot with precision, while his mouth kissed your super sensitive clit. You felt an incredible pressure taking hold of your uterus, as if your bladder were suddenly too full. You tried to close your legs, but he held you tight, looking you in the eyes, daring you to stay there. You were hit by a high-speed train when your second orgasm came too quickly compared to the previous one. “Fuck…”, you yelled as you heard the louder and wet noises spreading through the room as Taeyong guided you through your moment of ecstasy. When you managed to open your eyes, he was looking at you with a proud smile on his lips. “God…that was really hot…”, he said, bringing his soaked fingers to his mouth, sucking each one until there was no juices left. You looked at your legs and saw that they were much wetter than usual. It's been a long time since you last had a squirt. And you were sure this wasn't the first time he's done this with a woman.

You saw his other hand rubbing the volume down his pants. He made you feel so good and now you wanted to return the favor. “Get up”, you asked, signaling with your finger. He immediately got up. Small dark stains covered the front of his burgundy pants, hit by your juices. Both of his hands were clasped behind his back, puffing out his chest and taking a deep breath, waiting for you. You reached for the button on his pants, undoing it slowly as you teased him with your gaze. You slid the zipper down at a slow pace, anticipating your touch on his cock. He was wearing black boxers, which fit perfectly against his body, showing the design of his hard member constrained by the fabric. You dropped his pants on his feet. Taking a firm grip on his ass and squeezing, you brought your lips close to his still-covered volume, sliding your lips over his length. You earned a sigh of appreciation. He didn't tease you, so you wouldn't tease him either. You grabbed the waistband of his boxers and pulled it down, freeing his hard cock. He was wet with pre-cum, glistening in the bedroom light, inviting your mouth to suck it. You took it in your hand, being careful not to put too much pressure, and brought the tip to your lips, giving light kisses around it as you looked at him. His eyes sparkling with anticipation when you stuck your tongue out, gently circling, collecting the pre-cum to taste it. He was so sweet you almost couldn't believe it. You put his whole head in your mouth and increased the pressure on your hand, making him moan louder than before. Sliding down to the end of its length and back, feeling it hit the back of your throat, you started to suck it, your other hand mimicking your movements, but to the opposite side. When your head twisted to the right as you swallowed his length, your hand met twisting to the left. He was moaning hard from pleasure, making you feel proud of your perfect blowjob. You were determined to make him come in your mouth, so you took his balls with your free hand, gently massaging them back and forth as you deepthroated his entire length. You were about to go back when you felt his hand pressing your head further, keeping his cock in your hot throat. You couldn't fight the gag reflex, but he pulled back your head, freeing your throat so you could breathe.

Your lips were all wet with saliva, as was his dick. He pulled your head, making you look at him. "Please… I don't want to come yet…", he begged between sighs. You stood up, hugging his defined waist, quickly spinning him around, causing him to lose his balance and land on the couch. You sat on his lap, positioning your needy pussy on top of his hard cock. Resting your hands on his chest, you started grinding his entire length with your wet folds. He took hold of your hips and helped guide the movement, rolling his eyes back at the wonderful feeling it was like to have you slide past him. “Do you have a condom?”, you asked. He was a little bewildered with pleasure and looked a little startled by the question. “Y-yes…”, he replied, quickly reaching into his wallet and pulling one out. You barely waited for him to finish putting on as you positioned yourself with your entrance to the head of his cock, taking advantage that he was holding it up.

You slid painfully slowly across his length, watching his gaze fixed on where he disappeared inside you. You both moaned low as you reached the end, waiting until your tight walls got used to his size. He cupped both of your breasts, taking one of them in his mouth and kissing it as if it were your lips. You started to roll your hips with his dick deep inside you. “Fuck…”, you both whispered. You couldn't keep it that way for long, so you got up until it almost came out of you, and sank down again. You kept the rhythm steady, enjoying the pleasure inside you. Your brain still didn't seem to process the fact that you were fucking none other than Taeyong. He was really perfect, like he came out of an anime. And he was enjoying being there with you… it made you even more turned out. He started to move his hips too, slamming against you harder, pushing even deeper. You couldn't hold back a shriek of pleasure as it hit so deep you could have sworn you'd feel pain there tomorrow. He kept it deep and strong, the thrusts getting more and more sloppy while the two of you were a moaning mess. Both bodies tense feeling the orgasm approaching, labored breathing filling the room with gasps of air. Grabbing the hair at the back of his head and forcing him away from your sensitive nipple, you captured his lips with yours, still tasting your own juice on his tongue. You could feel your walls tightening and his cock throbbing. You stopped bouncing on him, just focusing on kissing his mouth, but he held your hips in the air, giving him room to move under you, pushing his cock deeper and faster with harder and harder. You dropped your head at the base of his neck, moaning not so low his name as he nibbled and sucked on your neck, increasing your pleasure even further. “Fuck, Taeyong… I’m so close… Please, don’t stop”, you begged this time, holding tight his body against yours. Your words made him fuck you even faster, moaning in a low tone countless curses in your ear. Your orgasm erupted as he licked and bit your earlobe, giving you shivers all over your body, followed by the tingling sensation. Your walls squeezed his cock hard inside you, sucking him in with your pussy. He couldn’t hold it any longer and he's bursted all of his cum into the condom, deep inside you. He didn't stop moving in and out until you were both almost starting to feel pain from overstimulation.

You lay there cuddled together as your bodies rested, restoring your breathing rhythm and heartbeat. This all still didn't feel real. You just had the best sex of your life with… him. You were awakened from your thoughts by his voice in your ear. “Can we take a shower together?”, he asked, his voice so soft he didn't sound like the same person from a few minutes ago. “Only if you wash my hair for me…”, you joked. “Okay, I can do that”, he smiled. He helped you to your feet and went to the bathroom and started getting ready for the shower. “I'll order us something to eat if you don't mind. I'm hungry and I believe you are too”. You nodded as you wrapped yourself in the robe that was in the bedroom. He was being so adorable and caring. In fact, you wouldn't expect him to just send you away after having melted under your touch so easily. He was a gentleman and he was making you feel special right now.

The shower was fun and he let you do various hairstyles with the shampoo bubbles in his hair. Also the timing was perfect. As soon as you guys got out of the shower and wrapped yourself in your hotel robes, the food he ordered arrived in your room. Both of you ate while he told stories about behind the scenes in the clips and funny situations with other members of the group. He was so easy to talk to and give you pleasure that you could easily fall in love...

#taeyong smut #taeyong #lee taeyong #lee taeyong smut #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct fanfic

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leiawritesstories · 3 years ago

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Speak To My Heart

Rowaelin Month, Day 15: A bad day

Word count: 3422

Warnings: language, bit of depression, fighting. In short, there is angst in this fic. Hope the ending makes up for the rest.

Linguistics and foreign languages are two of my personal passions, so please bear with the bits of language talk that I couldn’t resist including. Brief word of clarification: a lot of expressions we use in English either translate into something extremely rude or don’t make sense in other languages. Translation companies have been trying for quite some time to make sure they don’t accidentally send a client a translated instruction manual that reads “fuck your mother” instead of “for questions, contact your local energy department.” All right I’ll get off my soapbox. :)

The phrases in foreign languages, marked with *, are translated into English at the end. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rowan’s day had been shit. The second he walked through the door, he’d been bombarded with an endless slew of crash reports, malfunctioning equipment, faulty passwords, and best of all, having to rewrite half the security firewalls because one of the rash young idiots in his department couldn’t be bothered to check his work for errors before sending it to management. And management thought it was the department boss’s job to fix all of his employees’ fuckups.

He hated IT.

Even more so since being promoted to department chair.

All he wanted to do was the fun stuff--program design and development, fixing the flaws in his own designs, and of course making those who tried to break into his company’s systems regret their pitiful existence. But Cadre Tech’s bitch of a CEO refused to let the best software engineer on her staff actually do his job.

Most days, he could cope with the pile of useless shit she directed to his desk. Most days. Today was not one of those days. Probably because on top of all the meaningless tasks he’d had to field, he was also forced to sit through one of Maeve’s bullshit “department head strategy sessions,” where every department chair had to pretend they gave a single shit about any word coming from their CEO’s garishly red, pinched mouth.

As if she knew anything her staff actually did.

Thanks to the compulsory meeting, Rowan was stuck in his office at nearly ten o’clock, painstakingly combing through the final draft of the update to CT’s translation program. This program had shot the company to fame and fortune, or at least insane stock value. “A Google Translate that actually translates,” their marketing department called it, and by the gods, that stupid slogan worked. And made sense. Rowan knew the program was just as good as it claimed to be.

He’d put in the hours, alongside a team of linguists, software engineers, designers, and people fluent in at least one other language. Frequent were the sessions where the project whiteboard turned into a jumble of words in twenty or more languages, Spanish alongside Arabic next to a column of simplified Japanese characters spilling over into a row of Cyrillic lettering. Rowan himself spoke German and some Spanish, but even he was lost amid the cacophony of eighteen different people switching from language to language, trying to figure out how idiomatic expressions translated from one language to another and what words should never, ever be placed together.

It took the team well over a year of bickering, or as they called it, friendly linguistic disagreements, to make it from loosely mapped concept to functioning program. By the time it hit the market three years ago, the software had been so well promoted that companies all over the world snapped up their chance to finally communicate properly with the client they’d offended years ago with a bad translation.

At launch, of course, Maeve stood in front of a sea of shouting reporters brandishing microphones, smiling her serpentine smile, and proceeded to thank the creative team for all their “contributions” before taking all the credit herself.

Said creative team went to the bar that had become their usual gathering spot that night to get drunk and shit-talk their horrible boss, not necessarily in that order.

His favorite memory of that night was hearing the chief linguist, an outside contract with multiple advanced degrees who spoke eight separate languages besides English fluently, refer to Maeve as “quella puttana rugosa che non riusciva a convincere un cazzo a venire a dieci metri da lei se si vestiva da figa.*” The Italian speakers on the team were crying with laughter, and so was everyone else, once she translated it.

And then she downed another shot of vodka and hissed something that sounded like “sukya bliyad, no puedo mich betrinken con esta ordures.**” When everyone blinked in confusion, she sighed and relayed the sentiment in English.

Nobody had laughed as hard as Rowan. Aelin Galathynius just had that effect on him.

She brightened his darkest days.

But she couldn’t ease the strain of today.

And it was all his fault.

Aelin glanced up at the clock on her wall and cursed in three different languages when she saw that it was nearly eleven. Without meaning to, she’d spent all afternoon and evening writing lesson notes on idiomatic expressions. She really couldn’t help herself once she got into the topic; it was her pet project.

And the subject of one of her dissertations. Yes, she had multiple.

She’d worked her ass off for years to get through college, then through graduate and doctoral work while teaching at universities to offset costs, then earned a full-time teaching position at one of the top-ranked universities in the world. She got to teach linguistics, her lifetime love, and give guest lectures at other universities and at conferences, teaching people all over the world about the complexities and interrelatedness of language. Hell, she spoke ten; she’d be qualified to speak on linguistic relationships by virtue of that alone.

Gods, she was the chief linguist behind the most successful translation software ever produced. Even if the bitch who owned the rights to said software had literally threatened to sue over ownership rights if any of the people who’d poured their figurative blood and sweat and literal tears into building the program tried to claim a small piece of the credit each of them so richly deserved.

That software and her role in its creation--even though Maeve Ond had claimed the public credit, the creative team spoke at interviews and made news features for their work in Cadre Tech’s massive success--had solidified her credentials as a professor of linguistics, had boosted her into her lecturer spot.

Last year, her university granted her tenure.

She should have been overjoyed, and she was, but not as much as earning tenure deserved.

Because there was nobody to share her joy.

Three years ago, in the wake of CT’s overnight jump to worldwide fame, Aelin fled a love she did not and never would deserve.

She told herself she would never look back. But she did. Almost every day, she looked back at the life she’d shared with Rowan and tried to convince herself that she did the right thing.

Try as she might, she could never silence the whisper that echoed always in her mind.

“You broke both of your hearts”

Someday, she told herself, someday she would be back in Doranelle. Someday, she would have a chance to apologize. Someday, maybe she could fix the Rowan-shaped chasm that gaped wide in her heart.

Yet here she was, sitting in a very nicely appointed hotel room in the university district of Doranelle, typing furiously away as if burying herself in notes and prep for tomorrow’s lecture could make the urge to contact Rowan disappear.

Three years earlier. Doranelle.

“Knock, knock.”

Rowan’s head jerked up from where it had most definitely not been slumped on his desk. “Wha--Oh. Hi, Aelin.”

“You’re falling asleep, buzzard, let’s go home.” He heard laughter in her soft voice.

“As if you won’t just get home and start cross-checking every single one of the phrases on your ‘potential problem’ list.”

She chuckled, walking over to him. “Fine. We’re both perfectionist work whores. Doesn’t mean we don’t need sleep.”

“I know you too well to believe you’re actually going to sleep.”

“All right, you win. Come home now, I’ll make some food, and you can put me to bed.” She winked saucily at him, leaving very little doubt what putting her to bed would entail, and he was up out of his chair in seconds.

“Hand over your computer, Fireheart,” he grinned as they walked into the small house they shared on the outskirts of the city.

“What?”

“Your computer, love. I’m leaving both of our work bags on the shelf by the front door so we can actually catch some rest tonight.” He pressed a finger to her mouth to silence her protests. “Uh-uh, Ae, we have interviews tomorrow and I won’t let the genius behind this program’s flawless word-to-word be anything but well-rested.”

She sighed, but he saw the love in her eyes. “Here, then, my dear brilliant software engineer. Leave your notebook, too, because I know if it’s anywhere near you, you’ll be up at three in the morning scribbling blocks of gibberish and picking apart your faultless code until you go insane.”

Both of their work satisfactorily put aside, Aelin made good on her promise to cook Rowan dinner.

And then he made very good on his promise to put her to bed.

The next morning, they were both awake with the sunrise, content to lay curled in each other’s arms as the morning light spread across their room.

Rowan drifted back into sleep, waking for good when he caught a whiff of coffee from the kitchen’s direction.

“Morning, you sleepy buzzard,” Aelin grinned, sipping from her mug.

Rowan dropped a kiss on her head as he reached for his mug. He took a long drink, sighing as the milky, sweetened caffeine hit his mouth.

“I will never understand how you drink your coffee black, Fireheart.”

“Not all of us need to sweeten the hell out of coffee to drink it, Ro. Maybe if you can’t handle the real thing, you should go back to your pretty little cups of crappy cafe tea.”

“Mention my pretty little teacups again, Ae…”

She giggled. “You be quiet and drink your coffee-flavored milk, my love. We both know you’re impossibly grumpy until you have caffeine in your veins.”

He grumbled something unintelligible as he drank his coffee.

They were nearly late to work that morning, even having planned an extra half hour to arrive, thanks to Aelin wearing what Rowan dubbed her “sexy professor suit.” She fixed the pins in her French twist in the car, making herself once again a portrait of professionalism, and slipped Rowan’s hand from her leg.

“Two hands on the wheel, Whitethorn.”

He pouted. “But I’m a safe driver and I want to hold your hand.”

“My hands are over here, love, not down by my skirt.”

When he pulled into his spot, Aelin closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath.

“You good, Fireheart?”

Gods, she loved hearing him call her that. “Yeah. I just…needed a moment to settle myself. To tell myself the cameras aren’t here to tear apart what I say.”

Rowan wrapped his hands around hers. “Dr. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the bland reporters are here to stand in awe of your expertise. Not a single word you say will come across as anything but brilliant and beautifully said.”

She squeezed his hands, her usual confidence returning. “I love you, buzzard.”

“I love you too, Fireheart. Let’s go talk about our amazing achievement.”

The day sped by in a blur of reporters, interviewers, teleprompters, practiced speeches, lights, cameras, and crew. When the last bleached-blonde anchor of the last interview of the day cut her crew’s cameras, Aelin flopped against her second-in-linguistic-command, Dr. Nehemia Ytger, the expert on ethnic African languages.

“If I never see a news crew again, it’ll be too soon,” she sighed. “I’m beat.”

Nehemia snickered. “But we’re done talking about how proud we are that Maeve and her marvelous company have done such a grand service to the world.”

Aelin snorted softly. “Right. And now we servicepeople want to go home and take off our heels.”

“Amen to that.”

As the team filed out of the studio, Rowan made his way over to Aelin. “Holding up?”

“Not anymore,” she said, leaning casually into his side. “My heels are killing me, there’s a hairpin stabbing into my scalp, and I really, really need to pee.”

Rowan laughed, deep and husky. “Let’s get you home, then.”

“I’m stopping in the bathroom first.”

Just before she left the ladies’ room, Aelin heard voices in the break area. Familiar voices--Rowan’s, Maeve’s, and the snippy, borderline whiny tones of Remelle Frelau, who worked in the marketing department and had a hell of a boner for Rowan.

“--looking at revenue over--” Maeve’s voice cut out, but from the gasps of the other two, the revenue was through the roof.

“And it’s all thanks to this genius here,” drawled Remelle, who if Aelin had her guess was probably clinging onto Rowan like a platinum-blonde leech.

“Ms. Frelau, this was the product of a team. No single person could possibly have made it happen alone.”

“Oh, call me Remelle, or even better Remy. And you’re the team leader, so you practically did create it by yourself.”

Aelin snickered to herself. Vapid bitch had no idea what she was saying.

“That’s not how teams work, Ms. Frelau. We wouldn’t be here without Dr. Galathynius and Dr. Ytger’s language expertise, not to mention the creative genius of the engineers, graphic designers, linguists, and programmers.”

“Ms. Frelau, though her judgment is clearly biased, has a point, Mr. Whitethorn,” Mave said. “You demonstrated remarkable collaborative leadership qualities throughout this project, and I fully expect that you will continue to do so.” Maeve’s heels clicked away. Rowan’s voice followed her.

“Thank you, Ms. Ond, but I have to credit Dr. Galathynius--”

“Will you stop kissing that woman’s ass?” snorted Remelle. “Gods, she’s not worth your time or your praise; all she does is translate words into different languages and you idiots drool over that like it means anything.”

Aelin jerked like she’d been slapped. She knew Remelle was a self-centered, shallow, spiteful bitch, but she hadn’t known she would do this.

“--did more for this project than you and your useless whiteboard of catchphrases,” growled Rowan.

“I don’t care what she ‘did for the project,’ Rowan, she’s never going to be good enough for you.”

“Thank you for caring about my welfare, Frelau, now please kindly fuck off.”

Aelin chose that moment to saunter out of the bathroom and head straight for Rowan, her face showing no hint of having heard that conversation. She did note with satisfaction Remelle’s vain attempt to march out of the room with some semblance of dignity. Too bad her heel caught on the seam of the hallway carpet and the break room’s tile flooring and she had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing.

“You’re awfully quiet, Aelin.”

“Just thinking. Processing, really. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Rowan nodded. “I bet.”

“And hearing fucking Remelle rip into me for being useless…didn’t make it better.”

“Shit, you heard that?”

“Yeah. I heard that.” Her voice was hollow.

Rowan pulled into their driveway and shut off the engine. Reaching across the console, he cupped Aelin’s face in his hands. “Aelin. You are brilliant. You are terrifyingly smart. You are a force of nature. Nothing, nothing you will ever do is useless. Don’t let that jealous bitch make you think you are less than the perfect woman.”

She smiled tentatively at him. “She…she told me before that last interview that I could never be enough for you. Because you--because of Lyria.”

Rowan raked a hand through his hair. “Ae, can we talk about this inside?”

That night, he told her about his former fiancé, Lyria. He told her about their whirlwind romance, their youthful dreams. He told her about the horrific crash that stole away Lyria’s life. A drunk trucker, a narrow pass in the mountains. He showed her the box in which he kept all the memories of that life. He cried. Aelin cried. He curled against her, let her comfort him.

“Sometimes, I wish she was still here. She’d understand everything. She always did.”

Aelin had no response. She let Rowan fall asleep, his weight shifting off her and into his bed, and looked through the box. Everything she saw served as another reminder that this was the first woman he loved, the woman who understood everything.

She was worthy of him.

But was Aelin?

The more she looked at Rowan and Lyria’s happiness, the more the answer solidified.

No.

When Rowan woke up the next morning, Lyria’s box sat on Aelin’s side of the bed, a side that had not held Aelin.

He glanced out the window.

Her car was gone.

He got up and frantically paced through the house.

Everything she’d brought into his home was gone.

As was she.

Present day.

Rowan opened his front door mechanically, pulled off his shoes, dropped his work backpack on its shelf, and was halfway to his bedroom before he realized he’d just opened his front door. His front door that was always locked.

Someone was in his house.

Someone who either had a duplicate key or insanely good lockpicking skills.

Exactly one person owned a duplicate key to his house.

Aelin.

That’s impossible, she lives in Orynth, she can’t be here, he told the traitorous part of his brain that leapt with joy at seeing Aelin’s face again.

He turned around and made his way through the kitchen--nobody there--to the living room. He flicked on a lamp, casting a soft light around the room.

And nearly had a heart attack.

Aelin Galathynius sat on his couch.

For a moment, he just gawked at her. She looked so…different. Older. Gone was the infectious smile that had captured his heart. Dark shadows smeared under her eyes, testament both to the long hours she devoted to her work and to recent sleepless nights. She was twisting a ring on her right hand, a familiar sign of her nerves. From his angle, Rowan could see a hint of dark script on her wrist. A tattoo. The Aelin he knew didn’t have tattoos.

“I’m not a ghost.” Her voice, weary and hollow, broke the tense silence.

Rowan crossed the room, propped an arm on the fireplace. “Why?”

“Why am I here? Why did I leave? Why did I cut you out of my life?”

“Everything.” He couldn’t keep the waver from his voice, but his eyes burned into hers.

She took a steadying breath. “I’m here to apologize, first of all. I’m here to face what I ruined and to try and start mending it. I’m here to come to terms with everything I broke when I left three years ago.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I’m sorry I left like that. I was…I was scared.”

“You can’t just run away from your fears, Aelin!” He couldn’t keep the frustration from his tone. “You can’t just abandon someone when you have a bad day!”

“I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have left! I know I can’t run from my fears; I’ve spent the last three years trying and fucking failing to do that! But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Saying something about it would have been a good first step.”

“I’m bad at emotions, Rowan. I tried. It wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse.”

Aelin flicked a tear from her face. “I know.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Rowan. I should never have left. I let some stupid comment root into my head and make me doubt myself. I made myself believe I would never be good enough for you. I left you. I loved you, and I still left you. I still love you, even though I’ve tried to suppress it. I can never make up for that. I…I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve regretted that horrible decision all these years. I want you to be happy, Rowan, I--”

“How am I supposed to be happy without a source?” He’d dropped onto the couch, close enough to touch her but still keeping his distance.

“What?”

“You didn’t just take yourself away, Aelin. You were my happiness. I’ve spent three fucking years trying to make myself believe I’m better without you in my life, and I can’t.”

She was unabashedly crying by that point. “What do you want me to do? How can I make up for abandoning you?”

“Stay.”

Her gaze locked onto his, both of their eyes pooling with tears.

“Stay with me, Fireheart.”

“But--”

“I never stopped loving you either.”

A choked sob ripped out of Aelin. Rowan couldn’t hold himself in check any longer; he reached out and tugged her gently into his arms. To his shock, she didn’t resist, burying her face into his chest as sobs shook her shoulders. When she calmed, he tilted her chin up.

“Will you stay, Aelin?”

“Yes. Even though I will never deserve your forgiveness, yes.”

Translations:

* = “that pinched old whore who couldn’t convince a dick to come within ten metres of her if she dressed up provocatively” (Italian)

** = loosely translated as “Fucking hell, I can’t get drunk off this garbage.” (in order, Russian (badly phonetically spelled out because Rowan POV), Spanish, German, Spanish again, French) (the Russian doesn’t directly translate, so it could mean several different variations of expletive)

Might there be a second part? Perhaps......

#my writing #rowaelin month #aaaaaangst

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years ago

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Meeting and Dating Produce Joe

(My gif)(Requested by @westanimagines )

- You and Joe meet when you get a job at the grocery store and are given a tour of the place by your new manager.

- After being shown around the floor of the shop, he takes you into the backrooms and introduces you to Randy and the ever interesting Joe; who he has to tap on the shoulder in order to make him realize there’s people behind him since his music is playing so loud.

- The bespectacled boy tries to play it cool but you can tell he’s a little embarrassed; particularly when his eyes fall on you and your manager explains that you’ll be starting work there the next Monday.

- You give the man a polite hello before you’re ushered out of the room and whisked away to be shown around the rest of the building; leaving Joe flustered yet realistically unhopeful.

- As I said before, you start work the next Monday and things go smoothly. You make friends with the other girls on shift and you do the mind numbing work that pertains to a job at a grocery store.

- When you first start working there, you don’t really talk to Joe all that much. You don’t have a reason to be in his portion of the store most days and you’re new to the job so you’re doing whatever you can to look like a picture perfect employee as you figure out the rules of working there.

- Once you’re a little more comfortable in your position, you do a bit more wandering and are trusted with more tedious jobs that have you going into the back of the store. That's when you actually start making conversation from time to time.

- Your conversations are always a bit awkward but you come to realize that that’s …sort of just Joe. Which is why you begin to feel a bit bad for him.

- He’s always detached from everyone, always alone, and though you can’t say for sure that he isn’t the one who’s doing the detaching, you figure that it can’t be easy all the same and make it your mission to be friendly and talk with him. And his pleasant response to your interest in him convinces you that you've done the right thing.

- Soon enough, he’s latched onto you. Not in a creepy way but in a friendly, ‘you’re the only one who I’m comfortable around and who talks to me’ sort of way.

- It’s easy to see that you just being there makes his day a whole lot better; and that he looks forward to your little interactions, and though your coworkers certainly find him a bit strange, you begin to find him sort of cute.

- Surprisingly enough, it doesn’t take Joe a ridiculously long time to shoot his shot. He just randomly asks if you’d want to see a movie with him on Saturday and against your better judgement of dating one of your coworkers, you can’t help but agree.

- Hey, if there was anyone you’d be able to avoid at work and whose offer is dorkily endearing enough to persuade you into accepting, it’s Joe.

- So you meet up with him that next Saturday and settle in for a date at the cinema, sharing a popcorn and pretending like you aren’t flattered by/don’t notice his glances towards you.

- He almost kisses you after the movie as the two of you are saying goodbye but he very obviously loses his nerve and plays it off before the two of you call it a night. And as you’re driving yourself home, you’re surprised by how disappointed you are that he didn’t....

- Though you don’t wind up waiting too long for that kiss since you wind up taking it for yourself a few days later when you’re retrieving something from his area of the shop.

- You figure that it’s best to get it out of the way to show him that you want him to kiss you so, after he hands you the box of things that you’d came there for, you lean up and peck him on the lips, giving him a cheerful thanks before you leave the room; leaving him an ecstatic mess.

- And just like that, you’ve got yourself the freshest boy at the grocers.

- Joe likes to pretend like he’s this cool tough guy but at the same time, he knows that he isn’t; which makes you being with him a big accomplishment in his eyes. He’s incredibly proud that you’ve chosen to be his girlfriend and being your boyfriend makes him feel cool so he loves pda and being able to show you off.

- Him awkwardly throwing his arm around your shoulder while trying to look all macho. He’s a dork and that’s just something you’ll have to get used to.

- Kiss his cheek! Kiss his cheek! Seriously, he loves it almost as much as he loves you.

- Clumsy but sweet kisses.

- Taking his glasses off so that you can kiss him better. I can’t imagine it would be easy to touch lips with those massive frames in the way.

- The main pet name he uses is babe and it almost always sounds hilarious whenever it leaves his mouth.

- Most of the time, when you cuddle, he’s the big spoon. He likes nuzzling into the back of your neck and having you pressed up against him; and he’s tall so it works out quite nicely.

- Laying your head in each others laps. Oftentimes he’ll snuggle into your lap or stomach, wrapping his arms around the small of your back as your fingers card through his hair.

- Brushing his hair out of his face. It never seems to bother him but every now and again it bothers the hell out of you.

- Always having the freshest fruit and vegetables. If your boyfriend doesn’t put aside the best of the bunch when your favorite produce comes in, is he even your boyfriend?

- Spitting watermelon seeds and playing other stupid little games.

- Sliding down the grocery shoot every now and again when you know you aren’t gonna get caught; not that your boss really cares 90% of the time.

- Making faces at each other.

- Goofing off and not taking yourselves too seriously.

- Occasionally spooking him when you come to visit since he plays his music so loud. It’s become a highlight of your day to make him momentarily jump out of his skin; you consider it to be you avenging his eardrums.

- Borrowing his Walkman and cassettes. It’ll definitely take some convincing though, that things practically his baby.

- Dancing to music and lip syncing to songs.

- You can’t tell me that he doesn’t look like a “little” nerd, which is why I’m making him liking Star Wars and Star Trek and all of those geeky interests a thing.

- Going to conventions and other nerdy events like that.

- Playing different tabletop games.

- Movie dates. Something tells me he’d be one of those guys who are scared of horror movies but would try to play it off like he wasn’t…up until he’s clutching your hand all tight and refusing to walk down a dark street.

- Arcade dates.

- Carnival dates.

- Mall dates.

- He’s adorably willing to indulge in your more “girly” interests and probably secretly likes them himself.

- Taking naps together; though he strikes me as the type of person who barely gets any sleep so you might just be taking naps at his apartment while he does his own thing.

- Playful competitions.

- Him scaring the shit out of you with his chopping and dicing; to the point where you’re compelled to do his work yourself so that you know he isn’t gonna lose a finger.

- Eating lunch together and sharing food. You spend pretty much all of your lunch breaks in the backrooms with him.

- Talking with Randy every now and again while you wait for Joe. He appreciates the occasional company and the fact that you can save him some trouble and relay messages to your boyfriend for him.

- Long conversations about nothing in particular. You can rant to him about whatever you want but I can’t guarantee that he’ll be listening too intently; not that he’s purposefully ignoring you or anything.

- He’s kind of the typical oblivious boyfriend but he’s never malicious in his ignorance. He’s just a goofy dork who doesn’t take notice of subtleties and has trouble concentrating.

- Letting him brag about his accomplishments; even though you probably know that he’s completely making them up. He’ll probably “come clean” later on in your relationship and you'll have to hold back a laugh while trying to sound sincere when you tell him it’s okay.

- Him trying to act tough yet borderline hiding behind you when things get scary.

- Most of the time, Joe doesn’t take notice of any flirtation or suggestive interactions between you and other men so he rarely gets jealous of people. You could openly flirt with a dude and he’d be none the wiser.

- As much as Joe likes to pretend like he can kick peoples asses, he most certainly cannot so don’t expect him to start any fights in your honor. He’s a bit of a coward so he really isn’t all too protective of you.

- Joe’s a laidback guy and you sort of knew what you were getting yourself into when you started dating him so the two of you really don’t get into too many fights. If you do have them, they’re a quick argument and an even quicker resolution.

- Both of you sort of just choose to forget about arguments or you bicker until you come up with a quick “fine.” “fine!” sort of agreement and subsequently forget about the problem. Either way, fights never last long.

- Joe tells you he loves you pretty much every day; usually when you’re saying goodbye or in other circumstances like that.

- He might give you the occasional headache but you love him nonetheless. He’s a dork but he’s your dork and you’re gonna stay with him for as long as you can.

#produce joe imagine #produce joe imagines #produce joe headcanons #produce joe headcanon #intruder 1989 #intruder imagine #intruder imagines #intruder headcanons #intruder headcanon #80s movie imagines #80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon

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badass-at-fandoming · 3 years ago

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Just Little Malkavian Things ~

Malkavians these days can do nothing but de-conceptualize, Dement, eat hot chip, and lie.

Since people seemed to enjoy the #JustLittleVentrueThings VTMB adventure, here's a matching Malkavian one. Though I'm gonna be real with ya here, I had less fun D:

I finally figured out why I have such trouble wrapping my head around depictions of Malkavians in VTM media. Books, Storytellers, and fans say it's like having a mental illness and being linked to a massive group chat. But, listen, I've lived around and with mental illness all my life. I've been in massive group chats. Being Malkavian ain't like that.

It IS like being an early-twenties English major in the midst of an existential crisis, over-worked and cross-faded outta your skull and watching horror movies to Cope(TM)

So it's like drugs. It's like you had too much weed and too much wine and are let loose on Los Angeles. Which. My friends and I have and we, coincidentally, also "fought" a stop sign. The Malkavian PC never really seemed like a character to me: she's like a collection of cliches and dude-bros doing blunts while watching slasher movies. I named her Liotta after the Psychic Shop owner, and I'm sad Liotta didn't really get to be a person.

I wasn't surprised by any of the dialog. It's a pattern. Alliteration, allusion, animal joke. Alliteration, allusion, animal joke. It lost its charm.

Often, I didn't know what the FUCK I was saying. Which is the Malkavian Experience(TM), according to Rosa.

Anyway

Nonsense time

Most characters have an extra paragraph of dialog to Acknowledge That You Are A Malkavian. Some get an extra conversation branch. For example, there's lots of new Bertie dialog and he was all impressed Liotta knows about Gehenna and Thin-bloods <3. The Anarchs characters, especially Skelter, get a lot more. Skelter, Ash, and Liotta totally vibe.

If you sneak around the Santa Monica drug house, they talk about Mercurio?? Hello?? Mercurio, you bent Masquerade by not getting beat up real good.

Zero pretense about Voerman. Yes, I have DID; yes, I am making it your problem.

When Liotta talked to Beckett, he said the DID was "something to look forward to." Goddamnit, Beckett. That's not how the Bane or mental illness works! >:-(

I've never sneaked before!!! Did you know that the Tong AND the American gang downtown have fakes in their suitcases??? Like, Full On, "it's just stuffed with newspapers, brah." They were going to kill each other over newspapers. For some reason the Tong brought the REAL suitcase along too, but I'm so past having VTM make any sort of sense. It's fine.

Accidentally pissed off Nines. I meant farmer (affectionate) and Nines thought I meant farmer (derogatory). :(

The Dementation powers are (a) pretty purple loop-de-loops, (b) not as effective as Dominate (reaaaallyyy missed a good AOE attack), and (c) oddly enough, gave more compassionate dialog choices. I mean. In the pen-and-paper version, Dementation isn't conflict-focused, so the devs had to jigger it to use as attacks. But I was touched when Liotta made Hannah believe she was Paul, so Hannah got to say goodbye. Making Samantha believe Liotta was a pet turtle was funny and spared her the pain of her friend vanishing a second time. Heather thinks her entire experience was a dream and returns to her life, more or less unscathed.

Boris?? Asked Liotta to kill Venus for him???? DUDE, WHAT. I didn't know he could counter-offer!! What happens if you take up his offer? Who controls Confession? Does it close down??

Pro Tip: don't trust the pale woman in a cowboy stripper outfit who comes out of your vent and tells you everything's fine.

I went through an ENTIRE Ventrue playthrough without puking and Liotta ate one (1) unhoused person and blew chunks. I didn't realize Diseased Blood was a threat. What happens if you skip the Plague-bearer quest? Should you just never chomp on the Downtown unhoused community?

Strauss called Liotta "young one" and I was like, sir. You're not Beckett, you can't trick me.

A rat dances in the Downtown sewers and tells Liotta that the grass is greener in someone else's asshole.

And also will take you places.

Do you know what it's like for a Capri Sun to suddenly start speaking and offer taxi services.

LaCroix: how did Bach find me??? also LaCroix: [names his company after himself] [lives in Ventrue Tower]

Liotta told Beckett that Kindred are a joke and I got extra EXP for being so sneaky.

DMP produced snuff films even before Andrei???!!!! I thought all the blood was from the lil geo-dudes.

Liotta agreed with Andrei that Caine is here and boot-scooting around in his lil Angst Mobile. :D

As bad as Liotta was in group fights, she repeatedly made bosses cower and stand quietly while she beat them to death. Andrei had a full on lay-on-the-floor temper tantrum in his war form and Liotta just. Smacked him until he exploded. She didn't even take damage!

Imalia's computer password is ALSO "cleopatra." Just like Tawni's! Dual reference to the Embrace type

IDK why I never asked this before, but, um, who does Mitnick share the bunk bed with? Barabus..?

I went back to the Empire Hotel Penthouse suite to fetch the educational book and the Russian mob dudes were still there?? Hello, sirs, your leader is dead. You can leave now.

Liotta heard the real thoughts of the Red Dragon hostess...and also some debate about the Dark Father's presence in LA, heehee.

I thought it was fun that one of the "take me away, Cabbie!" taxi replies mentioned riding in a car like father and child. :D

"Why is the Mandarin giggling at me" is a sentence that came out of my face.

With the different dialog options, sometimes it's impossible to be polite to NPCs. For example: Liotta could only call VV "dolly/doll/toy doll" instead of her preferred names; the Chinatown gun seller felt frightened, thinking we were Police or Immigration.

Some great fourth wall breaks in the dialog: "I don't want to get involved either, but tell that to whoever is playing me!" to Beckett after the Giovanni Mansion.

"You can't spell success without whatever the hell my name is."

"If I cannot win with effort, I will cheat my way to victory. I am gone." Funnily enough, this was my first run where I didn't hack in to boost stats.

"I just want it to end. I feel like I've been playing forever."

Some nice wider lore references: "I devour knowledge like the great worm devours the corpse of society" could refer to how Salout, in tapeworm form, is devouring Tremere's body and destabilizing the Clan and/or Kindred night society.

"They should have a channel devoted to you in my head" to Beckett. In his Diary, Beckett witnesses Malkavians devouring Malkav and may or may not join the Cobweb (PS check out this great fanfic where he does).

This made me stare into space for a minute and question my life choices. During the Sabbat massacre, Liotta didn't snack on any of the blood doll ghouls (ya know, the ones with the eyes gouged out). She had such high Inspection + Finance that she had $4k in her wallet and could buy blood. I wanted to test a rumor that if you don't feed on the blood dolls, you get extra EXP. You do. BUT anywAY, right before the Tremere miniboss, Liotta was sword-fighting some goons and the blood doll...attacked him for her? Like. He moved on his own. When the goon was dead, the blood doll asked if Liotta was all right. This might have been a glitch but...the horrific implications that those men are still conscious, still willful, still feeling. ACK. I hope they got out the next morning.

RIP Ming Xiao. Flamethrower right to the tiddies.

I stole @ryttu3k's idea and noclipped through the werewolf section. Liotta still killed the Garou, but I didn't want the stress.

Caine is very Caine. "Don't you get it? We've already been judged!"

Liotta went Anarch because what little backstory I came up for her was she considered Smiling Jack her sire. Nines complimented her ability to murder.

Sheriff got sooooo dizzy that he fell over right onto Liotta's sword 27 times.

Dancing werewolf ending! Seemed fitting. :D

#vtm #vtmb #vampire the masquerade #malkavian #anarch #smiling jack #sebastian lacroix #nines rodriguez #cuthbert beckett #ming xiao #andrei the defiler #text post #my vtm nonsense

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kaistarus · 4 years ago

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BitterSweet

Pairing: Itadori YuujiXReader

Words: 2.4K

Summary: How Yuuji makes his way into your life with brights smiles and shitty coffees

A/N: just in time for his b-day :3 i’ve loved this boi since before i even started jjk, so i’m glad I got to finally write for him lol

Masterlist

Bitter.

Bitter-with a hint of vanilla-was what you associated with Itadori Yuuji. His beaming smile at your first tutoring session forever connected with the pungent coffee he offered you.

You stared at the cup skeptically, “what is that?”

“Coffee?” Yuuji answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought every college student liked coffee.”

He wasn’t wrong, “but why did you get it?”

“Because you got up so early to help me,” Yuuji’s smile widened as he waved the drink around.

“Well I’m scheduled, so I would have been here whether you signed up or not.” You pointed out, glancing at the clock nearby that read too-early-in-the-morning and gestured for him to hand it over. He looked so pleased with himself that you were sure if he was a dog his tail would be going wild.

That was the only explanation you had for why you didn’t tell Yuuji it was the worst thing you’d ever tasted, hiding your full body cringes when he looked up after digging through his backpack.

“So, what are we doing first?” He asked excitedly, holding a creased notebook with uneven pages and a packed folder with papers hanging out. You stared at it wearily, but unfortunately he was far from the worst case scenario-a folder was huge compared to some you’d run into.

“I guess just give me your last exam and we’ll work from there.”

Yuuji chuckled awkwardly, fingering through the mass of papers in his folder before producing a packet marked heavily in red ink. You sighed at the single digit number at the top with a frowny face beside it.

Looked like you and Itadori Yuuji were going to be spending a lot of time together.

**************

“You’re overthinking it, Yuuji.” You rubbed your temples having spent the last thirty minutes working through the same problem with no success. You were beginning to lose all hope.

“But it doesn’t make any sense,” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “I’m supposed to figure out the probability of what movies were action movies, but how was she able to watch eighty movies in one week?”

“That isn’t the question.”

“It isn’t possible though!” He jabbed his eraser at the paper. “Did she sleep? I bet this Melissa chick fast forwarded or skipped.”

“Yuuji…”

“Can you go a full week without sleep? If she slept through some, are they part of the eighty?” He gripped his pink locks in frustration. “How do I know which she slept through? Is there a timeline?”

You deadpanned as he scanned the page stressfully like it was holding him hostage with its contents, “I don’t think they provide a timeline, no.”

“Sorry,” Yuuji sighed defeated, slouching forward to rest his chin on the library’s table. “I swear I’m trying.”

You leaned against your palm, eyes softening as he glared at the homework sheet under him. “Don’t apologize,” you slid the sheet from under his chin. “You’re my favorite session after all.”

“I am?” He perked up.

You rolled your eyes while circling a segment of the first word problem. “You can just make up wild backstories for each person. Melissa doesn’t have to sleep and can absorb movies abnormally fast or something.”

Yuuji blinked several times as his lips curved into a smile. “What about the guy who owns over four-hundred chickens?”

You forced down your own smile and shrugged, “he’s just lonely.”

Yuuji laughed, continuing down the page while spewing out ridiculous stories for the unfortunate names in the Stats problems. Your heart beat firm in your chest at how excited he was now while scanning the page. The ticking clock above you felt like a curse the closer it got to the end of your session.

You guessed you didn’t hate the mornings anymore if they were with him.

*************************

You tapped your pencil’s eraser impatiently on the booth's table. The smell of brewing dark roast drifting through the small cafe accompanied by the combined noises of workers preparing early risers beverages kept you from dozing off where you sat. Finally, after what felt like forever-probably a few minutes-Yuuji slid into the booth across from you and placed a mug in front of you.

“I can buy my own coffee, Yuuji.” You took the mug wearily, eyes darting around the near empty cafe you’d decided to meet at this week to ‘spice things up’ in his words. “People might get the wrong idea.”

“I didn’t think you cared about that stuff,” he said with a teasing smile that you returned with a half-assed glare. “It’s my payment for making me smarter.”

“I already get paid,” you pouted at the drink in your hands. “And you’re already smart. I just help you understand it.”

He didn’t respond and you glanced over, confused at his slack jaw expression.

“Oh,” he started shuffling through his backpack and you swore his cheeks were dusted pink. “Yeah, that-uh-makes sense.”

“Right,” you raised a brow at the weird response, but decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. There wasn’t enough time in the world to question every random thing Yuuji did.

“What’s on the schedule today boss?”

“Your exam’s tomorrow,” you said, pulling some sheets from your own backpack. “I printed your practice exam since I’m guessing you didn’t know it existed.”

“Hey,” he pouted. “I didn’t, but still...”

You snorted, sliding the packet across the table. “Just do the ones you can and I’ll help with the rest.”

He saluted you, unnecessarily scribbling his name across the top before getting to work-his tongue poking out adorably while his eyes scanned the words intensely. You felt your chest filling with an unfamiliar warmth as you watched him work and your hand drifted subconsciously toward the mug next to you.

You coughed, unprepared for the harsh flavor, only wiping the grimace off your face when Yuuji peered upward with an innocent head tilt. Your heart squeezed when you locked eyes too long with his dark hazel before a soft smile filtered onto his lips. You quickly dropped your stare, hoping that if you avoided looking at him you could avoid the weird feeling emotion rolling in your stomach as well.

***************

You slouched up the library's stairwell, pushing through the second story’s double doors that led to your usual reserved tutoring table. The school really needed to push back your start time-seven in the morning was way too early for any college student to effectively teach or learn anything. The only person ridiculous enough to continuously sign-up for this time was-

You gripped your backpack straps as strong arms wrapped themselves around your midsection, picking you off the ground without warning. An unwanted frightened squeal left your lips before you recognized Yuuji’s laughter behind you and you relaxed as much as you could with him spinning you around in a library half-full of people.

“What are you doing?” You glared at him over your shoulder, cheeks warm from embarrassment at the scene he was causing.

“I got a C!”

You blinked several times before prying his arms off you, “are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he slid his backpack off, digging around before offering you a crumpled up packet with a seventy-four and a smiley written on top. You stared at it with a growing smile and without thinking too much you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yuuji, this is amazing!”

“I know,” he laughed, encircling your waist awkwardly given your backpack. “My roommate didn’t believe me. She’s doing my dishes for a week thanks to you.”

You weren’t sure you felt good about that after seeing his level of disorganization, but you smiled back anyway. “I’m so proud of you.”

Which was true. Your chest was swollen near bursting with pride for him and he’d only gotten a C. You told yourself it was because of your own skills as a tutor, but had you ever been this excited for someone?

“Hey, we should celebrate.” Yuuji stuffed the exam back into his bag. “Do you wanna-”

“Can you guys quiet down?” a guy with four crushed energy drink cans and food wrappers laying haphazardly around him asked. “I can’t focus and I just wanna go home, dude.”

“Sorry,” you whispered as warmth crept up your neck, turning Yuuji toward the exit as he stared at the guy in amazement. “We’ll leave you alone.”

“How long have you been here?” Yuuji asked in awe.

“Twenty-five… No, maybe eight...” The guy narrowed his eyes at the clock. “Time’s an illusion man.”

Yuuji nodded, impressed, shooting the guy a thumbs up as you pushed him toward the doors. Once in the stairwell you shot him a bright smile, “celebrate?”

He nodded excitedly. “We can get coffee!”

You turned away quickly to cover your panic, “or maybe anything else?”

Yuuji hummed, “I guess change can be nice.”

Your heart did a bizarre skip at the soft look in his eyes and you hurriedly started down the stairs without him. You spent more time that morning brushing off each reaction to Yuuji than enjoying your time with him. When everything was done you started thinking that you were having a hard time kidding even yourself.

**************

You and Yuuji had been working in silence for the past twenty minutes-the longest he’d gone without needing help since he’d signed up for tutoring. It was a great sign that for some reason had your stomach knotting uncomfortably.

“You’re doing really good,” you complimented, admiring the delighted smile he gave you.

“Yeah, I used what you said about note taking for lecture.” He showed you his notes that were beyond chaotic, but apparently worked for him. “I actually understand what’s going on now.”

“That’s great,” you looked down at your Chem problems and attempted to keep your tone light. “You probably won’t need tutoring soon if this-.”

You heard his pencil snap and looked up to find him staring holes through his paper. He seemed tense as he pressed his pencil roughly against the notebook and you wondered what word problem would’ve caused that reaction.

“Are you stuck? Do you want me to-”

“I like you.”

You paused mid-reach for his textbook and locked eyes with him, his cheeks flaring up a dark pink. You opened and closed your mouth several times before mumbling out a weak, “what?”

“And I don’t want you to tutor me,” he looked frustrated with himself when you tilted your head at his contradictory statements. “I mean, I do, but not always. I just want to spend time with you and not talk about Stats because I hate Stats, but I really like you.”

That weird feeling was back. The one where your chest felt tight and your heart was beating too quickly and your stomach sort of felt like you might throw up, but all in a good way and that made everything weirder. It was a lot and not enough and that made you nervous.

“I don’t know, Yuuji.” You lied.

“That’s okay,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No pressure. I just sprung it on you, so I don’t blame you.”

You nodded, watching him dig around his bag for a second pencil while grumbling about organizing that you knew would never happen. Your heart ached in your chest as you watched him continue working casually, playing off whatever happened.

...but you weren’t sure you could do the same.

************

This was a terrible idea.

You swung your legs, perched atop a railing across from a building that Yuuji was currently taking his midterm. It didn’t matter how you got that information-accessing his schedule with the few perks your job gave you-all that mattered was you had five minutes to figure out what you were going to say to him.

This wouldn’t even be an issue if he hadn’t skipped tutoring a few days ago. You weren’t sure if he thought you hated him or if he was regretting confessing to you, but either way you needed to talk to him before your window closed.

If only any of the speeches you could think of weren’t absolutely humiliating. Three minutes now? That should be enough time for you to at least get the beginning-

“(Y/N)?”

Your head whipped to the side so fast you're sure you got whiplash, dumbfounded that Yuuji was standing there with his head cocked to the side.

“You finished early,” you said, face warming at his growing confusion. “Not that I would know that.”

“Right.” He gave you a once-over. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Uh,” your nose crinkled while searching for a reasonable excuse. You sighed when you came up empty. “You skipped tutoring.”

Yuuji’s eyebrow rose and he waved his hands around. “I accidentally slept through it.” Then you noticed the gears started turning in his head and you began shrinking in on yourself. “You came here because I skipped a lesson?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you were going to keep skipping,” you avoided his eyes, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “It’s a bad habit.”

He knew you were full of shit. You could tell by the way he was forcing down a smirk when you stared at your feet. This would obviously be going so much better if you had those three minutes to prepare.

“Thanks for checking in,” he smiled, fishing around in his pocket and holding out his phone. “We should probably exchange numbers so you don’t have to go through all this trouble next time.”

You eyed the phone and rolled your eyes, “makes sense.”

He looked overjoyed when you took it from his hands. Your heart felt like it would pound out of your rib cage while he watched you create your contact, your fingers shaking slightly under the pressure.

“As an apology, I should probably take you to get food too.”

You paused, looking up at his hopeful gaze before nodding shyly. “That seems fair.”

The smile that overtook his face was probably the largest you’d ever seen and your heart nearly exploded when he grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the building. You probably should have seen this coming the moment you began looking forward to your morning shifts with him. As he dragged you down the street you found yourself not caring where he took you-you knew you’d be happy as long as he was with you.

#itadori yuuji #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji fluff #yuji x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #itadori x y/n

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spicykoreantatertots · 4 years ago

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Fractured Hearts & Floral Lungs - Part One

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

Genre: hanahaki, angst, established relationship

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2400

Warnings: blood, choking, coughing, vomiting, hanahaki disease, relationship issues, fighting, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex, mentions of hospitals

A/N: this is my first fic in a while and i’m happy to finally be able to share something again. i’m determined to finish this series by the end of may and finish my soulmate series this summer.

thank you to @shadowsremedy for this banner and to @thesoftsoobin for beta reading for me.

this was meant to be a gift for @dee-ehn, well it still is a gift, but it should’ve been posted a long time ago. i’m happy to finally be able to present you with this gift, i hope you enjoy part one of Fractured Hearts & Floral Lungs!

~~~~~~~

[Thursday Night]

Tonight isn’t the first night that you’ve shown up at Jin’s door sobbing. At this rate, it probably won’t be the last. He still hasn’t read your texts about needing a place to stay, so he’s probably asleep.

You knock loudly a few times, careful not to disturb the floral wreath hanging on the center of the door. And after a few moments you can hear some footsteps inside the apartment. There’s some more silence and then you can hear hushed whispers.

The door creaks open and Jin’s boyfriend Namjoon is standing before you.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Namjoon sighs sleepily.

“You scared us! I even got my old tennis racquet out of the closet!” Jin complains before he pokes his head around Namjoon’s broad shoulders. The tear stains and redness of your face instantly catch his attention. “Oh no, what happened?”

For a moment, you can’t say anything. Your chest fills with emotions. Pain, frustration, sadness, heartbreak. The words can’t get past your trembling lips, and soon you feel Jin’s arms envelop you, his sweater absorbing your burning tears.

Somehow, through all your blubbering, Jin has been able to understand what happened with Yoongi. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your back, guiding you to the couch that will be your bed for the next few nights. Namjoon has brought over a pillow, blanket, and a glass of water for you.

“Why don’t you lay down and try to sleep now? This isn’t going to be resolved tonight, unfortunately,” Namjoon interrupts Jin’s comforting whispers.

“He’s right, Y/N, I can tell you’re exhausted. Try to get some rest.” Jin helps you get settled in bed before following Namjoon into their bedroom.

Jin was right. You are completely exhausted, emotionally drained. But every time you attempt to close your eyes, all you can see is him, the flowers, and the blood.

~~~~~~~

[Thursday Evening]

Something is off. He’s been coming home late everyday for the past few weeks. You hoped that today, of all days, he would make an effort. But here you are, alone, surrounded by a table full of his favorite foods. From the moment you got home from work, you’d been on your feet cooking. As if your job waiting tables wasn’t strenuous enough.

Lately it feels like you’re the only one making an effort in this relationship. He leaves for work before you wake up, returns after you’ve gotten into bed for the night. He doesn’t even take the lunches you pack for him to work anymore. You never would have suspected Yoongi of cheating on you, but his behavior is making you question everything you thought you knew.

Today will be the final straw, you told yourself. If he didn’t make it home in time for dinner on your three year anniversary, it would be time to confront him. But as six turns into seven and seven into eight, you decide to pack the meal into tupperware.

You expected tears to come, but they didn’t. Your cheeks are bone dry while you pile the rice into a slightly warped plastic container. You’re in disbelief, or perhaps you just expected this all along. The containers of untouched anniversary dinner stack neatly in the refrigerator.

The sound of keys jingling against the door signals his arrival before he opens the door. You lean yourself against the kitchen counter, grounding yourself.

“Hey babe, happy anniversary!” Yoongi’s smile shines, like it always does, but his eyes aren’t as bright. He’s carrying a bouquet of small sunflowers.

“Happy anniversary.” A faint smile crosses your face as he hands you the bouquet. He looks a little puzzled by your lack of gratitude. But then he notices the pile of dishes in the sink.

“Oh, did you make dinner?” You nod silently as Yoongi shuffles the pots and pans around in the sink. “I made us reservations at The Table. Did you eat already?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“No!” You try again, this time suppressing the surprise in your voice. “No, I haven’t. That sounds really good.” Maybe things aren’t as bleak as they seem; at least he didn’t completely forget.

The ride to the restaurant is nearly silent, some tacky radio advertisements playing quietly. He’s holding your hand, but you’re looking out the window, focused on everything but the uncomfortable quiet. Yoongi breaks the silence and mentions something about the project he’s working on at the studio.

The studio, you think to yourself. Of course that’s all he can talk about. His passion has always been music. You were both thrilled when he got an entry level job at a music studio, and at the beginning things were good. But Yoongi always strives to be the best, and he moved up the ladder to Assistant Producer in less than a year.

Whatever album he’s working on now has kept him away from you for far too long.

“So when is that album releasing anyway?”

“Later this summer, but our work on it is almost done.” He says, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“So you’ll be back home at normal times?”

“Well...” Yoongi glances over at you. “Jungkook wants me to work on another project with him when this one’s over.”

“I’m glad your boss likes your work, but hasn’t he ever heard of a work-life balance?”

“Jungkook is NOT my boss. He's-” Yoongi starts.

“Well he’s not your girlfriend either!” You shout. “You’re never home anymore Yoongi.” Your hand slips from his and you cross your arms.

“This is my career.” Something catches in his throat, he coughs a little. You knew he loved his job, but you never heard him get emotional about it.

“So I just need to accept that I’ll never get to see you again?” Yoongi pulls up to the front of the restaurant, in line for valet parking.

“Do you want to go home and keep fighting or do you want to get dinner?” He asks, still trying to clear his throat.

The restaurant is very nice: a robust wine selection, a pianist playing in one corner, and a sleek menu. The other tables are talking in quiet voices to retain the romantic ambiance of the place. You and Yoongi are doing your part by not speaking at all.

He’s making it tough though; he keeps coughing. You hope he’s not getting sick.

“Are you okay?” You ask, passing him a tissue from your purse, trying your best not to sound angry.

“Yeah I’ve just got something stuck in my throat, excuse me.” Yoongi snatches the tissue from your hand before walking toward the restroom.

When he returns, he looks a little worse for the wear. His skin looks paler, his hair mussed, and a wet spot on his shirt.

“Are you getting sick?” You have to ask him now. “What’s that?” You point to the wet spot just below his collar.

“I got some spit on my shirt. I do think I’m coming down with something, but I’ll be fine.” Something doesn’t seem right. He looks more than sick, almost paranoid.

Through the rest of the night he coughs here and there, but he seems to regain his composure. His long dark locks get tucked behind his ear, and for a moment you can forget how hard things have been lately. He asks about your work friends and hobbies and seems to listen intently. The curve of his smile draws a smile out of you too.

Between dinner and dessert, Yoongi reaches across the smooth table cloth to take your hand in his. His thumb gently strokes your fingers.

“You know that I love you, right?” He asks, his smile faded to a straight line. You squeeze his hand.

“You’re going to have to do a better job of showing it.”

~~~~~~~

You’re not sure if it’s the best move, but you want to show him that you haven’t given up yet. When you step out of the bathroom, wearing a revealing chemise, Yoongi is sitting on his side of the bed, facing away from you.

“How are you feeling?” You ask, climbing onto the bed. He sighs, and you reach for his shoulders. You begin rubbing his shoulder muscles, feeling the tension in them slowly releasing. Kneading his back muscles with your fingers, you lean forward to lay kisses along his broad shoulders.

“Baby, can we not tonight?” You freeze, not sure you heard him correctly. “I know it’s our anniversary, I just don’t feel good.” You remove your hands from his body.

“Yeah, of course. There’s some cough medicine and painkillers in the bathroom if it will help.” You reply, leaning back against the headboard, scrolling through your twitter feed so you can hide your embarrassment.

“I’m going to take a shower. You don’t have to wait up for me.” He gets up from the bed and enters the bathroom without glancing your way. You settle into the blankets and try to relax.

You can hear him coughing again once the shower turns on. You turn over in bed, his sudden cold demeanor reminding you of the trouble your relationship is really in. It’s hard to fall asleep to the sound of your boyfriend coughing violently, but you manage to drift away.

~~~~~~~

[Friday Morning]

The sound of Namjoon leaving the apartment wakes you. It must be around 7:30 or so. Jin is in the kitchen quietly making coffee, still in his pajamas.

“Jin, are you not going to work today?” You say in a half-whisper, not wanting to startle him.

“I called in sick. I wanted to stay with you today,” Jin explains, walking over to the couch with two mugs of coffee. He made yours just the way you like it, almond milk and a little bit of sugar. The warmth of the drink momentarily soothes your sleepy body.

Jin reaches across the coffee table and picks up the tv remote. He turns on a morning talk show, some washed-up celebrity talking to slightly less washed-up celebrities about what projects or life events they have going on.

“And later on in the show we will be joined by Jackson Wang, who will share his story of heartbreak and unrequited love that ultimately lead to the creation of his latest single, 100 ways.” The audience cheers for a moment before Jin switches the channel.

“Sorry.” He sighs.

“I don’t think that’s what the song is about...” You joke, sarcasm seeping through the pain in your chest.

Jin chuckles at your remark, but he sits uncomfortably at the end of the couch picking at his fingernails.

“Listen I wanted to say something...” He starts.

“Jin, do you think I could shower before we get into anything? I just need a minute to wake up and I feel kind of gross.” The mascara stains from the night before are beginning to irritate your skin, and a hot shower could do wonders for you. But truthfully, you just aren’t ready to talk about it yet.

“Sure, I’ll grab some sweats you can borrow.” Jin sighs, getting up from his seat.

The hot water melts away the tension in your muscles, but the tension in your mind remains. It’s difficult to keep the images of Yoongi coughing up dozens and dozens of yellow and orange petals from flooding your mind. The drops of blood on the petals and the floor just showed you how far the disease had progressed. How long he’s been in love with someone else.

The floral scent of Jin’s lavender body wash is a little too reminiscent of the smell from the night before. Sickly sweet flowers with a hint of acidic bile and metallic blood. The clean water rinses the suds but the scent remains on your skin.

When you close your eyes to rinse shampoo from your hair, the scene from the night before plays out in vivid detail.

~~~~~~~

[Thursday Night]

You had been awakened by the sounds of Yoongi retching in the bathroom. You called out for him, but he didn’t answer, so you let yourself in.

He is doubled over the toilet. A dozen or so brightly colored petals scattered around him, some smeared with watery blood. The moment you burst in, he tried to hide the extent of it, tried not to let you see but he knew it was useless. He let himself lean against the wall in defeat.

The violent episode he was experiencing seemed to come to a halt.

“Are you...” You pause, there are too many questions to ask, but you know there is only one you can ask in the moment. “Are you okay?” He closes his eyes and nods slowly. You take a moment to examine his face. It’s red, and there are tear streaks clear down his chin. There’s drops of blood and sweat on his bare chest. His heavy breathing is slowing back to normal.

And then you have to leave. You can’t stay and look at him and his flower petals any longer. It looks like he’ll be okay for the night, so you grab your purse and phone and walk straight through the door.

~~~~~~~

[Friday Morning]

Bumps rise across your skin as you exit the shower and step onto the cold floor tiles. You wrap a towel around your body and sit on the edge of the bathtub. Your phone, face down on the counter, buzzes again, and you decide to face the messages you ignored last night.

You scroll through the usual email and social media notifications to get to the dozens of texts and missed calls from Yoongi, still unsure if you should even hear him out. How can he still be in love with you when he’s been growing flowers for someone else?

A phone call interrupts your thinking. The number has a local area code. A sudden feeling of nausea tells you that something is wrong.

“Hello?” Your voice echos against the tiled walls.

“Hello we are trying to reach Ms. Y/L/N Y/N.”

“This is her.”

“You are listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Min Yoongi. He has been admitted to the ICU at Grace Regional Medical Center, how quickly can you get here?”

~~~~~~~

A/N: thank you so much for reading. check out my master list here, and check back in for part two. it will be posted by the end of april 2021!

123 notes · View notes

bimswritings · 4 years ago

Text

This Is Our Way

Ch.1

Summary: What happens when you make the mistake of thinking you can steel from a Mandalorian? You land yourself and job and a plethora of adventures and emotion you could never even dream of. The question is; where will those emotions lead.

Warnings: Typical canon violence, NSFW implications and scenes later on

You can also read it on my Ao3 account.

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Clouds. Dark, impenetrable, depressing grey clouds are what greet you as soon as your eyes open, just like they have every day for years during your existence on the scrappy planet of Corellia. Home to the most desperate and cruel criminals, along with the enslaved and weak civilians and captives. All mixed in with your average day citizen trying to get by.

A great place to live.

The sound of tie-fighters overhead is what first woke you, screaming as they made their morning flight overhead, acting as an ever present reminder of the Empire's presence and signaling the start of your day. Bones and joints crack in sync as you push yourself up, rubbing your eyes and crawling from the busted old weapons crate that acted as a poor supplement for a bed. Its lid laid discarded to the side, allowing the cool night air of one of the only dry nights of the month to flow in while you slept. The hard metal lining was barely tolerable, even when padded with the few scraps of fabric you had managed to snag over the years, but it was sturdy and the lid provided great protection from the ever present rain on the overcast planet.

Taking care not to trip while climbing from the enclosed space, you stumble out onto the main section of the roof and stare over the city as you stretch, trying not to cringe as certain bones popped back into place painfully. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and not even the fresh breeze that floated in from the sea could make it any more appealing.

Boring, industrial buildings stretched as far as the eye could see in varying colors of black and steel, hardly standing out against the horizon of equally dull colors only punctuated by the occasional crism Empire flag. In the middle of it all was the only decently maintained and sizable buildings on the planet, where the majority of ships for the Empire were produced. It was thanks to the presence of that one building that there was even an economy here, keeping it from turning into a more dreary and wet version of Tatooine, the outlandish world it was. The sight was enough to make your stomach churn, but had nothing on the aching pain that radiated from the organ and had you mind wondering when you had eaten last. Three, four days maybe? It didn’t matter. However long it was, the meager scraps you had managed to find behind the restaurant district of the wealthy were but a distant memory. It was this very hunger that drove you from your safe space, forcing you to climb down the pipes lining the outside of the building you resided on.

The metal creaked and groaned in protest under your weight, but you didn’t give it a second though, knowing there was nothing to worry about. You had been climbing along these fixtures for years, nimble hands and feet finding the smallest of purchases as you move along with ease.

When the ground was close enough you dropped, rolling through the impact to your feet and taking shelter behind an abandoned stall as you momentarily stumbled, vision swimming and black dots dancing before you. Force, you really need to get something to eat soon. Rainwater could only fill your stomach for so long before it lost its abilities to hold you over.

Peering around the corner, your eyes scanned the narrow alleyway, looking for any sign of stormtroopers or other rough characters that would cause trouble. You were never much of a fighter, but today especially was a day you were feeling particularly weak.

‘Alright. All I need to do is slip out, grab a couple of credits, and get back. It should be fine as long as I don’t run into-’

“Well well well. Look what we have here.” Leon’s voice spoke from behind, making you cringe and berate yourself for not being more careful. This was the last thing you needed to deal with, and Leon’s sickly smooth voice only served to grate on your nerves more as you turned to face him and his three lackeys, identifying them as Sho, Everett, and Corin.None as dangerous, but all as bad tempered as their leader.

Glacial blue eyes stared from pale skin beneath his shock of blond hair, a combo that drew ladies like flies to him. Pair that with pearly white teeth and he could have been a poster boy for some prep school on Coruscant. If not for the tattooed arms and green vest that held the insignia of a ranicore tooth, marking him as one of Sozin’s many street enforcers. His kind was the one you hated most. Cocky guys who thought that just because they were someone in some gang they had power over everyone else, not giving a second thought to those they hurt, be it man, women, or child. As long as they got a nice cut at the end of the day they were fine. Despite your hate for them, by all means joining a gang was the best way to survive here. It promised food, shelter, and constant work. All you had to do was give up your own self respect and humanity in return.

“The little Jawa had finally come out from her fortress. Tell me,” He smirked as the others formed a loose circle around you, effectively caging you in. “Get anything good lately.”

You wanted to spit at him, slap that stupid smirk off his face and leave him to go crying back to his boss. But you didn’t. Instead, you took a more casual, defensive stance, ready to get away the moment you had the chance. Slapping a fake smile on your face, you cocked an eyebrow in mock teasing.

“Please. If I had anything of interest I’m sure you of all people would know.” You were getting more nervous now, keenly aware of how close Sho was getting to your current position. Far too close for your liking.

“And with the patrols increased and punishments cracking down, things have gotten harder.''

“True, but I just never know what those sticky fingers of yours may manage to pick up. Your skill has a reputation after all.” His eyes skimmed over your body, not even trying to hide the way he was practically undressing you. The slimy bastard had been pining after you for years, ever since he had watched you lift a number of things from a trooper when you were both just young teenagers. He claimed it was for your skills but it didn’t take a genius to see he was looking for something more. “Maybe you could give me a live demonstration some time.”

And there it was.

You said nothing, only pushing yourself further against the cool metal of the wall behind you in an attempt to create some sort of distance in between you. Your stomach, the traitor it was, decided that it would be the best time to voice its own opinion, letting out a loud growl of protest that didn't go unheard.

Leon’s face took on a mask of concern and sympathy, and you might have fallen for it had you not known any better. His tone took on a softer, more whispery tone, like he was speaking to a stray feline. Not that far off if you thought about it.

“You look hungry. Why don’t you come back with me. I can get everything squared away with Sozin, and I promise, I’ll take real good care of you.”

His hand extended out in invitation, strong fingers that had ended the lives of so many gently relaxed, the other crossing behind his back in a mock gentleman pose, as if he even knew what being a decent guy even started with.

“C’mon. Think about it. No more empty stomachs or fighting for every scrap. You’d even have a nice bed to lay in at the end of the day. No more sleeping on the filthy streets.”

Scoffing, you summoned the last of your confidence, brushing past him and ignoring his invitation. “I’d rather take the streets than your blood soaked sheets any day.”

That should have been it, and it would have been for anyone else on just a code of respect among those here. But Leon wasn’t known for taking no for an answer. Before you could even make it three steps his hand closed on your elbow, bringing you back closer to him. Despite all you twisting and pulling, his superior strength kept you close, breath fanning your skin as he spoke.

“Listen here, I’ve been more than kind in my advances. A saint some may even say, so you’re not going to walk away from me, understand? No your going to come back and-”

“Hey!” A shout from the end of the alleyway interrupted him, drawing all your attention as the squadron of storm troopers rounded the corner to the alley, falling in line behind their captain.”You there! What’s going on?”

At the sight of the local law enforcement and their blasters, Leon’s grip loosened a fraction. Just the smallest amount really, but enough for you to be able to slip from his grip and between Sho and Corin before they could stop you. You ignored the shouting of the officer, sprinting in the opposite direction and around the corner into the main streets of Corellia.

‘Good luck trying to find me now.’ You smirked, pulling your hood up to conceal your face as you effortlessly blended into the crowd, becoming just one of the thousands of faces that traveled through as you continued on your way. Now it was time for the real work to begin.

Just as with the seasons, your own hunting grounds changed, ever rotating through the different sectors in order to keep law enforcement off your tail. It was one of the first lessons you had ever learned; never hunt in the same spot for more than a few weeks.

Today was a fresh start in the port district, leaving an abundance of new and unaware targets. It was a popular place for travelers as well, who were especially naive, but even with that you knew today would be a challenge. It hadn’t been a lie when you told Leon that the troopers were cracking down. More patrols and increased severity of punishments had started to begin in order to ‘cut down the crime’, as your senator put it. Fat chance of that though, as one could argue that Corellia ran on crime. Still, the effort put forth was really putting the pressure on smaller people like you, who were just trying to survive, not to mention the street vendors and shop owners had installed their own new security measures in place, leading to an unfavorable combo that led to your current weak and hungry state. So you were here, looking for some oblivious fool to cop a few credits off from your perch just outside the mechanics.

As your eyes scanned the crowd, looking for visible money holders or those with liftable jewelry and other items, you saw him. He was hard to miss actually. The beskar he wore from head to toe shone proudly even without the light of the sun hidden above, speaking of its own durability and care shown by the owner. Alongside him was a pod, closed, and most likely carrying whatever supplies he had picked up from the market. The brown cape around his shoulders did nothing to hide the gun scross his broad back, nor the dozens of smaller weapons strapped to his person.

He stood tall above the crowd, most parting like water around a stone to avoid him, and it was no wonder. Even you had heard the stories about the Mandalorians. Fierce warriors and fighters who could track their prey to the ends of the galaxy. They were the best bounty hunters and hired guns on the market. You had been witness to more than one lowlife being pulled from their seat in the cantina by his kind, kicking and begging to no avail as they were carried away, dead or alive.

Teeth gnawing on inside of your cheek, you debated with yourself. On one hand, he was a high risk target, undoubtedly being used to these kinds of places and the people who lived here. Stealing from him would earn you a blaster shot to the head if caught, that is, if he were feeling merciful enough not to crush every bone in your body. But then, he was a bounty hunter. They always carried a lot of credits, and ones worth more at that. One swipe from him could set you up for days, if not weeks! He was also the only target you had seen open worth any value the entire day, and you weren’t sure you could go much longer without food.

You debated with yourself, going back and forth as you watched him grow closer to where you sat. If you didn’t make a decision soon you would lose your chance all together.

As if detecting your hesitance, your body made the decision for you, loosening another growl from its depths, prompting you forward and before you knew it you were on the move. Pulling a small guide book from your pocket, you pretended to be grossly interested in the useless thing, eyes moving to falsely skim the words as you carefully adjusted your path closer to his, threading between the crowd with as much ease as he cut through it.

The moments before were tense, each step leaving you feeling more electrified as adrenaline coursed through your body, only feeding your blind confidence as you counted down.

‘6..5...3..2..1….Now’

You pretended to stumble, tripping on your own feet as naturally as you would walk, veering from your course and bumping into the armored man. You winced slightly as your shoulder made contact with the metal, which made your grunt of pain that much more believable and distracting while your hands got to work. Like all bounty hunters, he kept his money in front of him, just slightly to the left of his leg. A tactic to prevent pickpockets like you that frequented the scenes they often found themselves in. Smart, but you had gotten used to this tactic before, and it was a simple swipe of your hand as it quickly entered and retreated the pouch, fingers closed around an unknown number of credits, all within a fraction of a second as you mumbled apologies, raising your opposite hand in distraction as your other moved to pocket your catch.

As soon as your own fingers left the pouch, you knew you were in trouble. Years of being on the streets had taught you when you had the upper hand in a situation or not, whether you were the predator or prey. In that moment, that small fraction of a moment, you went from poised victor to the most demure of prey.

And the man in front of you was the hunter.

His hand, even quicker than your own, moved to latch onto the retreating limb. The very one holding the credits you had thought had been yours.

Head snapping up to meet his, you were faced with an unfeeling gaze in the form of silver surrounding a small ‘t’ of inky darkness that prevented you from seeing his face. You tried to pull away, only to have his stern grip tighten even more, the leather of his glove squeaking in symphony along with the crackling of the joint. Yet you still refused to drop the credits, stubbornly holding onto them out of spite and fear. If he hadn’t seen them yet, there was no way he could indefinitely prove you had taken anything from him, though the way he focused on it told you he already knew the truth.

Kriffing hell. Why had you even thought this would be a good idea. He was a Mandalorian, and in your hunger driven brain you had somehow managed to convince yourself it would actually work. Well congratulations, you had the credits, but now you were as good as dead. If he didn’t decide to deal out his own justice and kill you then and there, surely he would turn you over to the stormtrooper.

The skin on your back tingles and warmed at the thought, memories of public whippings flashing in the back of your mind and doubling your heart rate and raising your panic even more.

Maybe you could still get out of this though. He was a man, as far as you could tell anyways, and all men were susceptible to one thing, hardened warrior or not. You could distract him, try to get a trade or compromise in return for forgetting about the situation. If not him then the clones. Maker knows they were always willing to pass up small crimes every once in a while in exchange for a way to sate their horniness. Though you had never tried the practice yourself, you had heard of numerous others getting off the hook that way. How hard could it be?

Your thoughts were interrupted by movement, bringing you back from your blind panic of plotting how to get out of this. The Mandalorian had tilted his head, t-visor still trained on your face as he observed you. Those around you were all too eager to ignore the situation, walking past with explicitly diverted eyes as they went about their business. The hand not holding yours moved, making you flinch back but with nowhere to go as he kept you trained in place. It moved towards your face and you braced, eyes scrunched and ready for the impact of a palm or fist making contact.

Yet, it never came.

Instead, the soft worn leather gently pressed against your face, fingers gently running along the curve of your cheek, highlighting the bone that protruded with hunger. The occasional scrape of his beskar along the skin makes you shudder, but if he even notices he doesn’t say anything, only continuing to stare as his hand tips your face every which way for him to examine. Then he just...let go. Without another word he had dropped his hands, stepping around and continuing on his original path, leaving you behind him, frozen in place and in a state of shock.

You could have stood there for any measure of time, be it seconds or minutes. Your brain was too busy trying to process what had just happened to even think about anything else. It was only when someone rudely bumped into you, almost knocking you to the ground, that you finally snapped out of it, and suddenly you were running. Feet pounding the uneven ground as you gained speed, faces flew past as little more than blurs as you continued to put more space between you and your should-have-been attacker. If it had been any other time you might have been proud of the speed you had, the burning in your lungs of little significance. Not even when you had seen Leon once again did you blink, blowing past as he called out and tried to grab you.

Before you knew it you were rounding the alley back to your little home, leaping more than climbing up the pipes with record speed as your feet barely touched the rickety metal. You practically dove into your little crate of a home, pulling the lid and locking yourself in darkness as you tried to sooth your pulse, taking deep breaths that did little to help. Absentmindedly, you began humming to yourself. A song so out of tune and unrecognizable it would have made a wookie weep, but it was what you needed as you pressed the burning and sticky skin of your forehead against the cool metal of the wall.

Eventually, after countless repetitions or the short tune, you managed to steady yourself, bringing enough sense back to realize you were still holding onto the credits from before, which were now gripped tightly in your hand. Enough to the point where the skin had turned a pearly white and your fingers hurt to move as you slowly unclenched them, revealing angry marks and even places where the rectangular currency had bit deep enough into the skin to draw blood. But oh what a beautiful sight it was.

One hundred credits laid in your fist, clustered together in a jumble of varying amounts and different kinds, but a total amount of one hundred. You normally only got this after a week of extremely successful hunting in the summer months. The sight of it now was enough to make you cry.

Despite the urge to go and get food from the nearest vendor, you knew better than to go out right away. For all you knew he had only let you go just to follow you back to your base, probably thinking he could turn you into the stormtroopers for a bigger ransom than what he lost, or loot your own place for anything you had stored up. Jokes on him if that was the plan, because he would only get back what you took from him.

The thought stayed stuck in the front of your mind, forcing you to stay tucked in your hiding space for the remainder of the day and keeping you awake through the night. Every little sound made you jump, convinced that you would once again find yourself at the receiving end of his burning gaze, the helmet he wore only masking his expression and leaving your fate uncertain. He never showed though, never ripped the lid off your container or dragged you out into the open.

By the time you managed to fall asleep, your body finally running out of its immense supply of adrenaline, the city itself had just begun to awaken below to the wee hours of the morning, and the fighters had just begun their morning rounds once again.

‘Maybe...maybe just a few hours of sleep.’ You thought to yourself, burrowing down into your small nest of blankets. What could be the harm?

Well, apparently a lot.

You had woken up in a panic, cracking the lid to see that the sky had already gone dark once again. Swearing to yourself, you emerged once again like a Nightshrike from its cave. Foregoing any normal rituals, you allowed your body to stretch itself as you moved, hustling from rooftop to rooftop, something you only did under the cover of night. The last thing you need is someone seeing you and discovering your home up top. You would never be able to get any peace after that.

You were in a rush though, and the thought of wasting a day of work didn’t bother you nearly as much as the thought of your favorite shop closing. With the amount of credits you had now, you wouldn’t have to worry about money for a while, so the only thought you had while the dim lights of the city flicked to life below was getting there as soon as possible. Who knows, maybe you’d even have enough to treat yourself to some fruit, an expensive and rare treat for anyone on the planet.

Skidding to a stop just before the end of the row, your eyes lit up at the sight of the shop still open, clearly readying to close. Shimmying back down to increasingly deserted streets, you were already drooling at the thought of biting into something and not having to wonder what it would taste like. No more than ten minutes later you were leaving, pockets now full of brick bread as the owner locked the doors behind you.

The plan was to only eat half of one on your way back, the nutrient rich and dense pastries giving you enough energy for the day in a single bite, but not even halfway back you found yourself licking the crumbs from your fingertips, hardly holding back from grabbing one of the four remaining loafs. Instead you reached into the opposite side and grabbed the meiloorun fruit you had managed to snag.

Now this was the main event.

Sinking your teeth into the soft skin, you nearly groaned as its taste exploded on your tongue, making your taste buds dance and sing as the sweetness became so intense it almost hurt. You still loved it.

Your stomach was full for the first time in forever, almost foreign as you had begun to forget the feeling. Juice dribbled down your chin as you continued on your way home, making a deliciously sticky mess to be wiped away and cleaned by your lips, intent on not letting a single morsel go to waste.

Thankfully the trip back was less eventful than your previous outing, helping instill an eerie yet calming silence over the city and prompting you to take your time.

You always enjoyed it up here on the roofs. Hardly anyone came up, not many having the same confidence and agility possessed by you and few others, and there was an ever present breeze up here that didn’t quite reach the lower levels. Not to mention the view it gave, which was one of the main reasons you had chosen a roof as your spot for a base camp. If only you could see the stars, but alas, the sight was as rare as greenery here, leaving it up to your own imagination to construct an array of bright lights on the top of your crypt.

Finishing the fruit, you paused at the edge of the building before your own. Small lights danced in the darkness, the occasional lamp illuminating a hustling figure and the street walkers that lined the corners of streets, calling to anyone in sight. The occasional search light of a patrol ship would shin above the buildings as it made its rounds over the city.

‘Must be looking for someone’ you mused, turning back to return home. No reason to get caught out tonight, especially when you were looking at a few days of relaxation.

As you turned, a familiar flash caught your eye, triggering a new taught panic response. You could hardly believe your eyes, rubbing them extra hard just to make sure you were seeing things right. But alas the sight before you neglected to change, unfortunately not a trick of the eye like you had hoped it was, and the Mandalorian you had thought you escaped the previous day continued walking down the dark alley.

You began to sweat backing away from the edge and further out of his line of sight, trying to still keep him in yours as you peered back over and tracked his progress as he got closer.

‘Kriff. I should have known he would want his money back.’

Panicking, you began going over all the escape routes near you. Ones through city street and sewers that would be much too small for him to fit through. Though, if he had tracked you here then chances were he would be able to find you wherever you went. This really wasn’t good. You might not even be able to go collect what meager possessions you had back in your box.

Then, materializing out of the darkness as if he were made of it himself, was Leon. He stepped into the path of the Mandalorian like he had no fear and, knowing how stupid he was, you thought he might actually not have any for the bounty hunter. But why would he when he was the primary enforcer for Sozin and still had his own backup, the three from earlier.

“Hey there.” He spoke in a voice that promised nothing but trouble, hands casually resting in pockets that undoubtedly concealed a weapon of some sorts. "I've been meaning to have a talk with you. The shiny Mandalorian warrior everyone is talking about."

This, you thought, was not good.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din dijarin #din dijarin x reader #x reader #star wars #fanfiction #star wars x reader #baby yoga #grogu #mando #mando x reader #boba fett #star wars fanfiction #the mandolarian

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reincarnated70sbaby · 3 years ago

Text

star crossed

-chapter four-

*disclaimer: this work is entirely fiction, all scenes with real life people presented in this work are entirely fictitious.*

word count : 2.4k

warnings : angst! (af!) swearing ? charlie watts being unbothered as ever, did i mention angst?

<<previous chapter

next chapter>>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a couple drinks in, the conversation of recording a track started up. Jimmy was actually quite excited, a Rolling Stones and Jimmy Page track was bound to happen sometime. Sure, Jimmy had played with them in his session days, but not anything to the extent of actually being featured and credited for the track. They decided to come back tomorrow to Bill’s home studio to record a track that might feature on the upcoming Goats Head Soup album. Two nights previous, he finished up the English leg of the 72/73 tour. In a couple weeks, Led Zeppelin would be embarking on their biggest tour yet - the 73 North American tour. There was plans to record a concert film and album, and Jimmy was really hopeful everything would work out.

“Lads I’m about to fucking pass out here, I’m out, see you all tomorrow yeah?”

“All right Jim, see y’a tomorrow, not to early mate right?”

After agreeing to come in the early afternoon with Bill , he bid goodnight to the rest of crew there, Charlie and the pianist for the album, Nicky. Sure, they weren’t as wild as the Toxic Twins, but they were still good company - better than getting drunk in his hotel room alone.

Walking back to his hotel room, the walk felt much longer than 10 minutes. Even though it was the beginning of February, and therefore the start of spring, he had to wrap his arms around himself to preserve body heat.

Reaching the hotel lobby, he was met with the warm air of the large room. Red carpets and gold accents adorned the room. It was quite late in the night - or early in the morning, so he decided to skip going to the bar in hopes of picking up a partner and instead, head straight to his room. On his way into the elevator, he passed two women, both wearing sunglasses. He thought that peculiar, and even more peculiar, he thought he recognised the woman with short brunette hair. After attempting to place the woman, he concluded he was in no state of mind to try.

Laying down on his bed, his thoughts wondered to Alice. He hadn’t heard anything about her since they were last together. He wasn’t even sure if she was still in the music business. He wondered would he ever see her again. He hoped he would, but a feeling in his gut told him it would happen eventually. Sooner, or later, he thought.

Waking up slightly hungover, he showered and prepared for the day of recording ahead. It wasn’t to be a serious session, more of a jam of sorts and hopefully produce a track in the process.

Strolling casually into Bill’s recording studio, he noticed that, as per usual, everybody was there expect Mick. On second look he noticed that Mick Taylor was not there either.

“Where are the Mick’s?”

“I think Jagger is just late, but oh, theres Taylor there now!”

Just as Keith finished speaking, Mick Taylor walked in, guitar case in hand. This would be the first time Jimmy and Mick played together, and he hoped they would get on well.

“Jimmy, great to see you again, ready to play?”

“Nice to see you too, lets get down to it shall we boys?”

Mick Jagger had finally arrived, so he and Keith were working on lyrics, while Charlie and Bill were working on rhythms and riffs, leaving Jimmy and Mick Taylor to work out the main guitar melody. They worked really well together, as they both had the same blues origins and both loved incorporating it into new material.

“So who's the sound tech here anyway” Jimmy asked, while in the process of tuning his guitar down.

“Allie, she's been with us for the album, she's great, have you met her before?”

“Hmm, the name doesn't sound familiar I don't think”

“Well she had an appointment, so she’ll probably be here within the next hour” Mick commented, a shy smile coming onto his face when mentioning her.

After around half an hour of messing around, the boys were finally ready to start the recording tapes. All that stopped then was the missing sound tech.

“Good afternoon boys, I, being your guardian angel have brought lunch for all of us” Alice said cheerily, bursting through the door with a bright smile.

Jimmy’s head shot up at the sound of her voice, suddenly connecting all the dots. The feeling in his gut about meeting her, the woman in the hotel, and the ‘Allie’ nickname.

“Oh thank you Alice, forgot to mention we invited a special guest to join our entourage, last night at Bill’s after you and Taylor left” spoke Mick Jagger with his usual eloquence.

“Alice!”

“Jimmy” Alice replied curtly, a hint of sourness in her blank expression. Jimmy was now in front of Alice, greeting her.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, its been what, nearly four years! I didn’t even know if you were still an audio tech” Jimmy said warmly, excited to see her again

“I would say it’s a pleasure to see you too, but its not, so I wont” Alice casually said, blanking him, and moving further into the room. She set the bags of fresh food on the table, in the back of the recording section of the large hall. Jimmy watched her walk away casually, totally taken off guard by her coldness. The rest of the Stones all caught this too, extremely confused, but a little entertained by their encounter.

“Wait, you guys know each other?” Keith asked, a small smirk on his lips, pointing between the two.

“I would say used to know, I was on of the engineers on Zeppelin II in 69”

“Hold on, I didn’t know you worked Zeppelin II? That means you must have been a teenager when you worked on it. Blimey” Mick, asked, all of this coming news to him, as well to the others.

“I suppose you wouldn’t, after all I wasn’t even credited, nor my boss Tom” Alice said coolly, still not turning away from setting up the various soups and sandwiches.

Obviously, the teenage Alice that Jimmy once knew was long gone.

“God, Allie you look so old, what are you now? Twenty four, twenty five” Jimmy asked, sampling the new nickname, trying to break the stifling awkwardness that now infected the room.

“Still getting my age wrong I see, Jimmy. Im surprised you still know my name, after all the stunts you pulled over the last four years” Alice replied, walking directly towards Jimmy, accompanied with razor sharp glare. She now stood directly on front of him, slightly invading his personal space. She has grown taller and her face matured, loosing the slight roundness to her cheeks she once possessed. She apparently had cut off her long wavy crimson locks, in favour of a modern, dark brown bob.

“Uh, what’re you talking about?” Jimmy asked chuckling nervously as he scratched his head, hoping she wouldn’t notice his feigned innocence.

“Oh I’m sure you know, as does everyone else in this room. I don't really have the energy to continue this irrelevant conversation, or frankly, any conversation in general with you at this point. Also, it’s Alice to you” Alice stated sternly with a finger pointed to his chest. Jimmy could practically see the ice swirling in her cool blue eyes, the eyes he had come to miss over the years. He had never had encountered her true, red headed temperament. Now that he was on the receiving end, he desperately wanted to stay away from it.

“I’m not really hungry anyway, so I’ll be in the mod room if you guys need me” Alice said, directing her words to everyone but Jimmy, before leaving and entering the conjoining mod room. Mick Taylor quickly set his down his burnt orange Les Paul, then followed Alice out of the room.

“Woah, I haven’t seen drama like this since the last time Mick and Bowie had an arguement - which was last week, I think hmm” Keith remarked with a sarcastic finger on his chin, before moving to serve himself some soup.

“Actually Keef, I think this charade is a lot more entertaining than David’s and I’s little tiffs, as this is bit more of a lovers quarrel”

“Better not let Taylor hear that, or he’ll have to have a word with you Pagey” Bill commented, wide grin now on his face.

Jimmy was now the confused one. He turned to Charlie, silently asking him about Alice and Mick with the point of his finger. Charlie simply shrugged his shrugged his shoulders in response before going back to drumming a riff with the hi-hats and snare drums.

After everybody had ate or, cooled off, recording was finally underway. After a couple of takes, Alice interrupted to give some pointers.

“Look boys, I’m gonna be candid with you all. It sounds shit” Alice said into the mic. Ever since she had gotten more experience under belt, she became renowned for her no bullshit opinions. In turn, people valued her honestly and knew what she said was, more often than not, right.

“Yeah, boys let’s not sugarcoat it, we’re not exactly gelling as one” Keith commented, starting to become fed up with having to balance not only Mick Jaggers usual dramatics, but another egotistical lead guitarist in the mix.

“Okay, what do you think love?” Mick Taylor asked softly, trying to keep the peace before something erupted. He wasn’t wrong, the Stones, along with a quarter of Led Zeppelin, and a hot headed tech was a bit of a lethal cocktail. Fights often combusted quickly between the Stones and Alice, as all members were just as stubborn as each other.

“Well it sounds like there’s 5 Stones, and 25% Led Zeppelin playing. What I want, and what fans want to hear is The Stones featuring Jimmy Page. You five need to change your usual routine of recording for once and mix it up. And you” she looked to Jimmy “need to stop pretending you’re with the other boys. You both need to work with each others strengths and quit overcompensating. Stop pretending you’re something you’re not”

Everybody in the entire house probably could pick up that the last sentence was a direct jab to Jimmy. Another awkward silence passed, ultimately stemming from a staring contest between Alice and the famed guitarist.

“Oh my fucking god, kill me now” Mick muttered, pinching his nose, while Charlie just rolled his eyes and started drumming the start of the song. Eventually Keith started the riff with Mick Taylor,along with Bill and Charlie carrying the bass and percussion, and Mick Jagger singing the lyrics. Only when they reached the solo part, did Jimmy break eye contact with Alice and begin playing.

Finishing up recording, the boys all started to leave. Mick and Jimmy were the last to pack up their stuff, and an uncomfortable air fell over them. Obviously they both either had history, or were making history with Alice. Eventually Mick realised he should probably let the pair talk it out, so, as Jimmy toward the mod room door, Mick moved toward the hallway door.

“Alice, can we talk? Obviously things have become a bit strained between us, and I don’t want it to stay like this” Jimmy started softly. It was probably his choice of words that set Alice off, as immediately after his finished she whipped around from the sound board and kicked off.

“ 'Strained' Jimmy, are you serious?! Strained?! First of all, you didn’t even tell me you weren’t mixing the album with us, and then you just left after our night together. Then- don’t try to interrupt me James. Then, you barely even credit Tom for his songwriting tips on the album. You didn’t even mention me once, even whenever anyone brings up that Theremin part in ‘Whole Lotta Love’! You blush and go on to explain how it was your own fantastic brain that thought of it. The you had the audacity to diss Mystic studios in the papers! What was it you said again? Oh yeah, 'Mystic Studios was far from mystical and closer to meagre, and as a result, the workers were too.” Alice snarled, stream practically blowing out her ears.

“Okay, I agree that comment about Mystics’s capabilities was definitely wrong, I was extremely out of it in that interview- hell I even jibed Atlantic Records!” Jimmy was now getting frustrated too. Normally, no one put him in his place, or gave out to him.

“And then how cold you were about Tom!”

“Wait what happened with Tom?” Jimmy inquired, now serious.

“Oh my fucking god Jimmy” Alice shouted at him “you don’t even remember to you?” She said with a laugh. She searched his face, but all she saw was confusion in his light grey eyes.

“Tom had a fucking stroke last year. Peter told you, and don’t you dare deny it, as he told me he informed you all when I spoke to him on the phone. For Christ’s sake even Bonzo rang to see how he was doing! He didn’t even have my number, but he found it anyway! Robert and John joined the call after he finished speaking. When I asked for you, they said you were in a closet fucking a groupie!”

“Look Alice, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to sa-”

“I’m not surprised Jimmy, it’s a marvel you can play guitar at all, with having no fucking sense in your thick head”

“Stop being so fucking rude to me, you’re not perfect either! Don’t act so high and mighty! I know what went on in Geffen records! I’m mates with David Geffen” Jimmy was no shouting too. At the mention of David Geffen, Alice’s face immediately switched from red to a pale white.

“You do not know what happened between myself and David, if you did, you wouldn’t speak to him ever again” Alice spoke low and slowly, her face now white as a sheet.

Unbeknownst to the pair, all of the Stones were listening outside. When they heard Jimmy shouting about Geffen, Mick Taylor had enough and burst in. The rest of the boys tried to stop him, but he broke free.

“Jimmy, stop it. You don’t know anything about the Geffen incident. You don’t know Alice anymore. I suggest you leave her alone before I step in more. Al, let’s go, our driver is outside.” Mick stretched his hand out to Alice, her eyes now watery, trying to bite down her quivering lip.

Alice immediately joined Mick, and left without a second look to Jimmy.

Jimmy, now alone in the mod room, felt his gut twist with guilt. Had something bad happened with David Geffen and Alice? His mind wondered to Mick’s choice of words -‘incident’. He had heard rumours that were more damaging on David’s behalf, but being friendly with him, he thought he knew him better than all the tabloids and industry gossip.

Jimmy realised that both he and Alice had changed drastically in the last four years, how could he have expected everything to go back to how it was in the summer of ‘69? Now, they were even more distant than ever before.

Maybe they had missed their chance at eternity. Maybe the stars had uncrossed.

His heart nearly broke at the revelation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ok so chapter four !!!

I wanna write angst more often it’s my guilty pleasure

anyway, I think this is my favourite piece I’ve written 😌

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tag list : @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @princesspagey @dreamersdrowse

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lennonknowsmysins · 4 years ago

Text

safety.

beatle: john

summary: you and john have been in a relationship since you started working for the band a few months ago. six months ago, you were raped by your former boss. on one fateful night, you have to tell john the truth.

tw: THIS FIC CONTAINS DISCUSSION OF RAPE, panic attack-ish

an: this fic is more intense than any of the others that i’ve written but it’s important to me for personal reasons that i won’t go into. writing this has been comforting to me and i hope that reading it will be so for you all.

It was the feeling of his hands.

Running down your back, gripping your hips, forcing your legs apart. Leaving bruises in his wake. Pushing your shoulders onto the bed as he climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists down. He was touching you, hurting you-

"Stop! Please, no!"

His hands were gone. The weight on top of you was gone.

With a whimper, you scampered off the bed, searching for a way out of the room. The soft flutter of a curtain caught the corner of your eye, alerting you of the balcony. You made a beeline for it, racing out the door only to stop in your tracks when you were met with the metal railing. You were enclosed, trapped, no way out. Frantically, you skittered around the balcony, desperate for a way out.

Then his voice came.

Not the voice that had tormented you for the past six months but the ones that had been a source of comfort for the past four. You'd heard it first on the radio, then when he'd hired you and now as he coaxed you off the balcony.

"(yn)" He called, his voice gentle.

You looked up from your cornered position.

John. You were in Paris with John Lennon. You trusted him, he wouldn't hurt you.

Shakily, you got to your feet, unsure of when you had sat down. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Your memory steadily came back. John had invited you to come to Paris with him. He was here for a television interview tomorrow. There had been a social event thrown by the network hosting the interview and you and John had attended. It was the first time since the attack that you had allowed yourself to drink alcohol. Only one glass of champagne and only under the protect of John's arm lazily draped across your shoulders. Then the both of you had retreated back to your hotel room.

You had thought that you'd be fine with having sex again. For God's sake, you were in Paris with John fucking Lennon, you should be fine with having sex. But as soon as you felt his hand on your bare skin, moving up to unclasp your bra, you had been thrown back into your terror.

Now John was stepping towards you slowly, trying to inch you away from the ledge. He stretched his arms out, unsure of what to do, just desperate for you to step away from the railing. Hesitantly, you took a step towards him.

"That's it, birdie. It's okay, let's just go inside. It's cold out here, you must be freezing."

It was cold. You were shivering in just your bra and underwear. John's arms were warm and safe. You rushed into his hold, melting into him as he pulled you to his chest.

"John," You sobbed, letting him cradle you. You were vaguely aware of your knees buckling from under you but John was quick to catch you, carrying you back inside. He placed you on the bed as though he thought you would break if he wasn't gentle enough.

He murmured every comfort he could think of as he rummaged for his tee shirt, pulling it over you. Fingers, calloused from years of mastering the guitar, began to card through your hair. The feeling was nice, it almost made you sleepy. However, you forced your eyes to stay open, to stay trained John so that you knew that it was John touching you. His warm, brown eyes were filled with worry as he took you in, shaking like a leaf beneath him, your eyes filled with tears.

"'m sorry." You croaked, scratching at your knees.

John shook his head, thumb stroking your cheek, "'s alright, love, you don't need to apologize to me."

"No, no, I do. I thought I could do this but...but..." You trailed off, your words catching in your throat.

It was silent for a moment. Then John spoke, his voice steady but uneven.

"(yn), did something happen?"

Six months. It had been six months of pain, of trying to forget what happened. Six months and no one had asked you that.

You were tempted to say no. You didn't want to burden John with this. He was the most popular rock star in the world, he had his music, reputation, band to worry about. This was your beast to take on. But you'd been holding it in for so long, hoping to just forget about it. It had been so lonely, keeping it secret - keeping your hurt secret. And now John was asking you about it. From the meltdown you had just had, maybe you owed him an explanation. So you nodded.

"I was raped."

It was barely a whisper but John had understood. His stomach did a massive flip as his heart took a dive. Subconsciously, he could have seen it coming, not even just from your freak out. There had been smaller signs; sometimes you would flinch when someone touched you, rest a hand on your back or you'd stiffen when being hugged. Whenever unfamiliar male guests showed up at the studio, you were plastered to his side or nowhere in sight. You didn't like to be physically close to men, even the other lads. It had taken John a solid month to be able to hold your hand. You never wanted to stay out late, preferring to just make dinner yourself. The way you'd gripped onto him at George's birthday party when Paul had gotten completely wasted and mistaken you for Jane. To John, it had been funny but when he thought about it, you had been terrified. Close to tears even.

At first, he'd just assumed that you were a little shy and overwhelmed. You were just adjusting to living in London, working for the Beatles. It was an intense world to be in, especially when you were working closely with four boys who had no sense of boundaries.

Now he wondered how he could have been so blind.

How could he have just dismissed those signs, your little ticks and tremors? John Lennon wasn't normally one to admit when he was wrong but right now, sitting in front of you, watching as you made yourself as small as possible, he had no excuse for his ignorance.

When John stayed silent, you continued with a deep breath,

"I-It was six months ago. Just before I started working for you guys. I was interning for him, waiting for him to offer me a real job. He invited me to the opening of his friend's restaurant and I thought that maybe he was planning on finally officially hiring me, so, like an idiot, I went. Got all dressed up and everything." You let out a humor less snort, shaking your head as you looked down at your hands, playing with the hem of your shirt,

"There was bottomless champagne. Made me feel fancy and I drank a lot. I think he made sure of that. Then when I was too drunk to make my way home by myself, he took me back to his apartment and... he raped me."

You shivered thinking back on that night, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. Despite the fact that John's shirt practically went down to your knees, you felt as though you were naked and on display in front of John. You couldn't look at him, you couldn't meet those sad brown eyes. They'd be full of pity, horror, disgust, questioning why you hadn't told him. You were asking yourself that. It was out of you now, no longer sitting at the bottom of your belly and filling you with constant dread.

"Who was it. Who did this to you."

John wasn't giving you a question, he was giving you an order.

"Donny Groves. I haven't seen him since I ran out of his apartment."

He tried to make his fist clenching conspicuous, not wanting to frighten you anymore. He'd heard that name, Groves was growing more prominent as a producer. On top of being a rapist, of course.

"(yn), I'm so sorry." He murmured, not sure of what else to say.

You shrugged your shoulders, sniffling, "It's not your fault. You've helped a lot, actually. You make me feel safe."

"You are safe. You're safe with me. He'll never- no one, will ever hurt you again." His voice broke, tears threatening to well up in his eyes. His touch was light as a feather as he placed his hands on your shoulders, "And if that bastard so much as looks in your direction again, I'll beat him, I swear I'll-"

You cut him off with a kiss.

"Thank you for listening to me. I'm sorry for ruining your night." You said softly, placing your hands on his face. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, leaning his forehead against your's, his rage dissipating.

"You didn't ruin anything, love, it's alright."

“Except that I did,” You groaned, leaning back against the headboard and dropping your head in your hands, “I knew that you’d want to have sex tonight and I thought I could do this - I wanted to do this, I’ve been working up towards it - but I-I-I don’t know, I ruined it.”

John blinked, watching you retreat back into yourself for a moment. He crawled over to you and settled beside you on the bed, close enough for your shoulders to touch. He reached over and took your hand in his, looping his fingers around your’s.

“There’s more to relationships - to our relationship - than sex. It’s okay if you aren’t comfortable with having sex yet, we don’t have to do that yet.” He reassured you gently, “I feel better being able to help you than making you feel uncomfortable. Alright?”

You locked eyes with him, allowing the feeling of warmth to wash over you when his soft brown eyes met your’s. His expression was meaningful and you could tell that he wasn’t giving you moot.

“Alright. It honestly just feels a little better finally telling someone.” You whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder and closing your eyes. John hummed, sending a buzz through your body.

“Anytime you need to talk about anything. I know I’m a bit of a dud but I’m all ears. And I’ll say it again, no one is going to lay a finger on you so long as I can help it.”

For the first time since you were attacked, you were able to relax. John was safe, he was your safety and your comfort. You could trust him not to hurt you or let anyone else hurt you, even when the two of you were constantly in the spotlight.

“I love you, John.”

It was going to be a long and difficult road to recovering from what happened, if you ever did actually recover. You had been badly hurt and scarred. But so long as you had John by your side, then you would be okay.

“I love you too, (yn). More than anything.”

It will be okay.

#tw: rape #this was really hard to write at first but im so glad that i did #thank you all for reading and please feel free to reach out if youre going through this #john lennon x reader #the beatles x reader #beatles x reader #john #beatle belle #john lennon

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tinydooms · 4 years ago

Note

Rick and Evie for 3, 8, 49 for the Christmas prompts please. And it sounds like a lovely idea - might actually get me in the Christmas spirit :)

Bet you thought #8: Hot Chocolate would get you a nice, cozy prompt. Here, have some angsty but loving brothers-in-law, instead!

Cairo, December 1923

Jonathan Carnahan is not certain where he is. He knows that he is curled up on the floor, and that he is cold, and that rain is pouring down. But he cannot be certain whether he is in his bedroom in Cairo during a rare Egyptian downpour or if he is back in the trenches on the Front.

He had been sleeping when a crash sent him diving for cover. The rainy tumult is as fierce as it was unexpected. One of the shutters has got loose and is flapping about in the wind. Bang. The big guns going off, earth and men and horses exploding under its rain. Bang. A rainstorm in Cairo. Bang. Over the top; let’s go, men! Bang. Cold tiles under his body, blankets twisted around his limbs. Bang. Someone wailing: a wounded soldier? Or Jonathan, lying on the floor in Cairo?

“Jonathan!”

Bang.

“Get down, damn it! They’ll kill you!”

Rick had not been in Flanders, but he is here now, dropping down beside Jonathan and hunkering down.

“I’m okay; I’m fine. How’re you doing, Sergeant?”

“I’ve been better.” Bang. Jonathan flinches and covers his ears. “I can’t hear a damn thing over these guns!”

“Fucking awful night,” O’Connell agrees. “At least it’s friendly fire.”

“Friendly?” hisses Jonathan. Bang. “They’re mining us--we have to stop it--can’t you hear them?” Bang.

“I hear them,” O’Connell says. “It’s just our sappers at work, laying down the lines. No worries.”

“Our sappers?” Bang.

“Yeah,” O’Connell shifts to his knees. “Though now you mention it, there’s a sniper...wait…”

He crawls along the floor, miraculously mud free in this muddy, filthy night. Bang. Jonathan watches with bated breath. Bang. O’Connell leaps up, seizes the loose shutter, slams it closed. Latches it. He drops back down again.

“Got ‘em,” he says. “Sappers brought the tower down. It’ll be okay now.”

Something loosens in Jonathan’s chest. “You’re sure it’s safe?”

“Positive,” O’Connell says, quite cheerful. He reaches for Jonathan’s blanket and shakes it out. “Here, you might as well get some rest while you can. I’ll keep watch.”

Jonathan takes the blanket, wraps it around himself. The guns have fallen silent; O’Connell has worked his magic. The rain pours down, but it is outside now. Still, he hesitates to relax.

“You’re quite sure it’s safe?”

“Quait sure,” O’Connell says in a terrible cod English accent. “Tell you what, some of the guys have made hot drinks. You want one? Hot chocolate.”

Jonathan, huddled in his blanket, is shaking all over. He nods. O’Connell leaves his side, crawls along the trench--or is it the bedroom?--and takes something from someone Jonathan cannot see.

“Thanks, recruit,” he says to the person. “You’re dismissed. Here,” he adds, putting the mug into Jonathan’s hands. “Drink up, sergeant.”

Jonathan drinks. The hot chocolate is thick and spiced, fragrant with cinnamon and nutmeg. His mum’s recipe. Beside him, O’Connell has his own mug. They sit in silence, side by side, the rain outside falling less frantically now. Yes, it is outside. The rain is outside, and they are inside, in his own room at home, not out in the trenches, half-drowned in Flanders mud. They are both wearing pajamas, too, not uniforms. Safe. They are safe. The screams and crashes of the trenches fade, though they don’t vanish entirely, and Jonathan is huddled on his bedroom floor beside Rick, his brother, drinking hot chocolate as the rain falls.

Rick is watching him closely.

“Where are we, sergeant?”

“In my room,” Jonathan mumbles. “At home in Zamalek.”

“Good.” Rick squeezes his arm. “That’s good, Jon.”

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan whispers.

“Don’t be. It happens to us all. There’s no shame in it.”

Rick settles down beside him, drinking his hot chocolate, and Jonathan is suddenly so grateful for him that he almost breaks down into tears. To hide it, he takes a deep draft of his drink.

For a long while they sit in silence. Both finish their hot chocolate, and then Rick takes the mugs and stands, putting them on the bedside table. He tugs Jonathan upright.

“Come on, sarge, let’s get you to bed. Here, take this.”

Improbably, Rick produces a teaspoon and a bottle of bromide. Jonathan sinks down onto the edge of the bed and tries to summon enough bravado to give him a baleful look. He fails, only managing to look ashamed.

“Come on, it’ll help,” Rick says. “Just a bit.”

“I suppose I should ask who made you boss,” Jonathan says, meekly submitting to the sedative. He sags against his pillows.

“I outrank you,” Rick replies, shaking out and arranging the blankets. “My last promotion was to captain.”

Jonathan wants to reply, but the bromide is taking effect. Instead he reaches for his brother’s hand and grips it. Rick returns the squeeze, accepting Jonathan’s gratitude. He sits beside him on the mattress until Jonathan is asleep, his breath deep and even. Then Rick eases himself up and goes to Evie, waiting at the door.

“He’ll be alright,” he says. “It was the shutter that set him off, I think. I’ll fix it properly in the morning.”

“I always worry when he gets like this,” Evie whispers. “You’re sure he’ll be alright?”

“As any of us can ever be,” Rick says, but he is optimistic. None of them are alone anymore.

#prompts #Christmas prompts #my fanfics #Jonathan Carnahan #Rick O'Connell

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hit-me-with-a-ladle · 4 years ago

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This is Ch.1 of my creepypasta story.

Note: I manly post this on wattpad thought i will also be posting the chapters on here so i hope you enjoy. The explanation of what its about is in my blog lol and enjoy.

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There was a nice cold breeze that blew through the night sky. That cold breeze was uniquely nurturing for the masked man standing in front of his next victim's home, waiting for his comrades to arrive (even though he only saw them as pests). They seemed to be taking their sweet time. "Figures they'd be late," he said to himself while snarling. Now he acknowledged that what he was doing was wrong, camping in front of strangers homes, merely to ruin their whole life. And he wasn't inherently cold-hearted about it too, still feeling pity for the men and women that got terrorised and killed. It's not like he had a choice in the matter either, no. A man's got to make a living somehow, and if it meant he had to hurt others to get it, then so be it. But what was done was done, and he shouldn't dwell on it for now, definitely not when his partners were still running late "Where are those idiots?" He said to himself again and then, in the corner of his eye, he saw the shadows of, what he assumed, were the men in question. He turned his back to them in displeasure.

"Where were you three? I was waiting for ten minutes now." He turned around and looked at them but quickly noticed that someone was missing "And where the hell is Ben?" He yelled in a hushed whisper, not wanting any of the neighbours to hear him. A very tall looking man wearing a navy blue jumper and mask looked at the frustrated man giving him a bored expression, even though knowing he couldn't see it.

"Calm down we had to make a pit stop so we can get the key for the cabin. Someone forgot to bring it," The tall man said in a monotone voice while pointing to a brown-haired boy a little shorter than him, wearing a dirty grey jumper, with a blue hood, a striped grey fabric mask, and orange-tinted goggles, standing behind him. The shorter boy crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. The tall man continued "And as for Ben I'm not sure either, he told us he'd be waiting for us while we headed back and got the key, and when we returned he wasn't there anymore." The tall man sighed while gazing to the side.

"Dammit, where could he be? The boss is going to be furious," The masked man said in an infuriated sigh while putting his hand on his masked covered temples. And as if on cue, a short blonde haired boy dressed in a green tunic with pitch-black eyes, walked out of the forest. "Sorry I'm late," He said in a relaxed tone.

"Ben, why weren't you waiting for us?" The tall man crossed his arms and looked at the blond boy, towering over him "Where did you go?" He asked while directly looking into the boys' eyes. "Oh yeah, bout that, I got tired waiting for you guys, so I thought why not just go by myself, but I got confused and then lost." He responded in a carefree manner. The man in blue seemed a little agitated from the blonds behaviour and as he was about to say something he got interrupted.

"It doesn't matter anymore, we all know that the boss will have our heads if we delayed this any further," The masked man said in annoyance to the three others. "Let's get the girl and leave." The others looked at each other and then nodded in agreement. They slowly crept up next to the house being very careful not to make a sound. "Ben go look through the upstairs windows and check if anyone else is home while I check the downstairs windows. You two stay here and wait till we're finished." The masked man said to the group. Ben nodded hovering up to the windows on the second floor and checked each thoroughly. While checking, he looked though one that seemed to be the target's bedroom. A girl was laying in her bed in a piece-full slumber. Looking at her, he checked if she was truly asleep and then went to report to the others.

"The coast is clear, and the girl is in her room," Ben said softly, "Yeah same for the downstairs area, she seems to be alone," The masked man responded. He then sighed "Well, this should be understandably easy. We'll go through the back door, so no one notices were here. We both will get her," He stated while pointing to the man in blue, "You two will be the lookout." As they went to the back door, Ben accidentally bumped into a flower pot, making it fall and break. The impact caused by the flower pot hitting the ground produced a loud boom. All of the men looked at the source of the sound, hoping it didn't wake up the girl. "Be VERY fucking careful of where u go, god-dammit, we don't want to wake the girl." The masked man said in a bitter whisper while glaring at the men trailing behind him and continued on his way. But little did he know it was too late.

The girl was only half-asleep, and the loud impact woke her from her lousy attempt at slumber. Recently she was barely able to get even a little shut-eye, always having that nagging feeling of uneasiness and dread while she was in her room at night, it felt like she had been watched. It got to the point where she had to take pills to get even a few hours of sleep. A heavy groan escaped her lips while she sat up from her bed, frowning and putting her face in her hands. "I should check out where that sound came from," She said to herself while getting up and tried to turn on the light to her room but it didn't seem to work.

'Did the power go off?' Thinking to herself while sighing and turning around stumbling to her bedroom window. Looking out of it she stood in her tracks still half asleep and wide-eyed she thought it was a dream. There were four strange men outside in her back yard trying to open her back door. Stood there shocked not knowing what to do but then speedily regained her composure and ran downstairs, ran to the back door and promptly jammed a chair in the door handle. That seemed to catch the men's attention. They immediately stopped what they were doing, realising that the girl knew of their existence. Noticing that the door stopped rattling there was an ear-piercing silence, and then out the corner of her eye, she saw something that made her blood run cold. Out the window, right across from her, she saw the silhouette of a tall blue looking man with what she could only assume was a small sharp knife held in his right hand. She didn't want to make a sound afraid that the man would see her, but it was too late, he was looking at her with his navy blue mask, tar-black eyes almost piercing through her. She was looking right at him, with a fear-stricken look on her face.

Thinking only of the worst outcomes of her situations, she immediately ran to the kitchen and pulled out a large knife and ran upstairs. 'If all the four of them are downstairs, then I could go to my room, lock it and jump out the window escaping in the forest.' She thought to herself clenching the knife she took to her chest and sprinting to her room. Swinging the door open, she stood in horror.

Right in the middle of her room was a relatively tall man wearing a white feminine looking mask on his face, he had messy dark brown hair and was wearing a worn-out dirty light brown jacket and baggy torn trousers, he looked to be around twenty and equitably fit. As soon as she saw him, she tried to close the door to his face and blot to a different room, but the man was remarkably swift and provided to tackle her to the ground making her drop the knife once firmly in her grasp. But she wasn't going out without a fight and proceeded to try and push the man off but was failing miserably, so she went to plan B.

Right when the opportunity opened itself up, she quickly shoved her foot in the middle of his legs making the man loosen his grip on her, giving her the chance to push him off of her and grab the knife. Standing up, she noticed that the man was quick to recover from her harsh blow, trying to attack her again this time even more aggressively than before. But she was ready for it and barely dogged. 'This guy is fast I need to get him off my ass,' The girl thought to herself while trying to attack him with the knife, but he dogged and in a swift motion kicked her side making her wince in pain, following it up with a punch to the stomach made the girl fall on her side.

He tried to kick her again while she was on the ground, but the girl caught his leg and pushed the back of it, yanked him down with her. The man fell with a loud thud and grunted not seeming amused by her actions. He tried to get up and take care of her but was promptly stopped by the sharp pain he felt on his leg. The girl had stabbed him with her knife. A scream escaped from the man's lips. She immediately got up and tried to leave, but unknown to her, the tall man she saw out the window was waiting for her. As she ran downstairs to get to the front door, the tall man shoved her to the ground and knocked her out.

Taking her in his hands, he went upstairs and looked at his ally sprawled on the ground and snickered. "A little girl was able to knock you down, how sad." The tall man's usual monotone voice was laced in amusement. The masked man was unimaginably irate.

"Help me up and let's just go, we don't want the cops finding out," He said in anger "As you say, Boss." The tall man said mockingly while helping him up.

"Just shut up and help me already, Jack."

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feeling-uncomfy · 4 years ago

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Eyyy finally I got it finished! Happy fic number 1! I'll have the other ready as soon as I can, and it probably won't be as long but I do hope you enjoy it anyways!

This one is soft because the boys need a break—

There is an eating disorder and minor self harm is mentioned, so be warned! Other than that it's all fluff!

Aziawa woke to the sounds of Iida and Bakugo yelling. Guess breakfast was being made. Aziawa rolled over and was met face-to-face with a ball of white. Aziawa huffed and pushed Koda's bunny off his bed and it scampered off, no doubt running for Mina or Ochako.

Aziawa stood and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked down at his phone. "Saturday, huh? Finally." Aziawa was sure the students shared the sentiment. He walked out, putting on a shirt and getting into the elevator. The voices grew louder as the door opened.

"Bakugo that's not how you cook that! You're supposed to—" Iida yelled, and was cut off by a pastry getting flung into his face. "Shut the fuck up! They're better than whatever you made, so sit down glasses!" Bakugo shoved Iida onto a stool and started cooking.

Aziawa said nothing and checked the time. "It's half five in the morning." He informed the students. The pair jumped and looked over at their teacher. "Do I even want to know what you're both doing up?" He asked. Iida stood straight and bowed slightly at the hip. "Apologises for waking you, sir!"

Bakugo scoffed. "We only did it 'cause birdie's gonna be gone for the day." Aziawa blinked. "Tokoyami?" Bakugo nodded. "He said Hawks wanted to do some extra training so he's leaving for the day." Aziawa's eye twitched. "That would be the third Saturday this month he's missed."

Bakugo nodded. "Also, he's been tired as fuck. I don't like it." He grumbled, putting pancakes onto a plate. Iida nodded. "Its true that we've been a lot more busy lately, but I've hardly seen Tokoyami the past few weeks outside of class." He said, looking at the plate as it was slowly filled.

Aziawa rubbed his eyes again. "What makes things worse is that, according to Hawks it's not the training that's doing this." Aziawa mumbled. Iida looked up, his worry evident. Bakugo scoffed. "Then what the fuck is his problem?" Aziawa shrugged. Iida opened his mouth to speak, but the elevator opening stopped him.

Tokoyami walked out— well, more like dragged himself out, yawning. He looked wrecked, and Aziawa could tell there were heavy bags under his students eyes. Tokoyami didnt even realise they were there until he quite literally walked into the back of Aziawa. His head snapped up, and he froze.

"Oh, um..." Tokoyami looked at the trio. "Apologises sir." He mumbled, walking around him. Tokoyami was sure no one would be awake. No one was ever awake this early in the morning. Tokoyami assured himself that it was fine, he'd just grab his water and go—

"Birdie, where're you going?" Bakugo snapped. Tokoyami looked up, confused. "I told you, Hawks wants to get extra training in–" Bakugo cut him off. "Yeah and the earliest train to Kushu leaves in three hours." Tokoyami looked at the counter, avoiding everyone's eyes.

Aziawa sighed. "At least eat something before you go." Tokoyami shook his head. If he ate anything he'd be sick. "I ate a little while ago." A lie. "I'll eat once I arrive in Kushu." Another lie. Tokoyami moved past them and walked towards the door quickly. "Where are you going?" Bakugo asked again. Tokoyami didnt answer.

"Tokoyami–" Aziawa called, but he was gone. Bakugo scoffed again and turned away. Iida blinked. Tokoyami left in a hurry, practically bolting around the back of the building. "Alright..." Tokoyami called Dark Shadow to his side.

"Fumi, I dont know about this..." Dark Shadow said this everytime they did this. Tokoyami never listened. "Dark Shadow, I have to do this." The quirk shook its head. "But you know that the school has a training regime for this! You don't have to get me to do this every morning." Tokoyami didnt look convinced.

"Dark Shadow, just do it." And thus, for the next two hours, Dark Shadow sent Tokoyami flying into the walls, trees, and anything solid. "Fumi, this isn't how you build endurance, this is just hurting yourself!" Dark Shadow called after half an hour.

Tokoyami lay on the ground, panting and in pain. "Again." He said through gritted teeth. Dark Shadow sighed, and Tokoyami ran towards him. Growing in size, Dark Shadow swung and Tokoyami gasped, getting hit in the chest. He smacked into a tree and flopped uselessly onto the ground. He panted, knowing he's going to be black and blue later on.

It was worth it. He couldn't afford to fall behind simply because he was weak.

"Let's go. Hawks will be expecting us soon." Tokoyami begrudgingly stopped the self-tourture and made his way to Kushu. His leg was in agony, and he walked towards the agency with a slight limp. As expected, Hawks greeted him with a warm grin.

"Tsukuyomi! How's my favourite intern?" Hawks exclaimed, wings stretching out. Tokoyami sighed. "Sir, I'm your only intern." Hawks laughed and clamped a hand onto Tokoyami's shoulder. "You got me there!" Tokoyami could only focus on the pain the touch brought, and hissed in pain, drawing back.

Hawks's demeanour changed. "What's wrong? You hurt?" Hawks checked him over. Tokoyami shook his head. "No, I'm quite healthy." He lied, trying to avoid eye contact subtlety. Hawks saw straight through the lie. "You sure? It's okay if you wanna skip out today—"

Tokoyami interrupted quickly. "No, sir! I'll be fine, you dont have to do anything like that." Hawks didnt like or understand why his intern was being so adamant about training lately, but he didnt comment on it any further. "Let's go then. We've got a patrol and then we can spend an hour training." Hawks said, leading his intern inside.

Tokoyami was ready, and the pair left. Dark Shadow seemed restless, and was actively searching for something that wasnt there. Hawks spotted a robbery, and the pair flew down. The criminals panicked and a fight broke out. Hawks could immediately tell that Tokoyami had gotten slower, his reactions were delayed and his movements sluggish. His intern was tired.

Hawks easily blocked a blow as one of the criminals got in close. Hawks was shoved aside, and Tokoyami was hit full force with a bright green powder. "Tsukuyomi!" Hawks called, restraining the criminal quickly. Tokoyami was bent over, scrubbing his eyes. "Kid, you okay?" Hawks asked softly. Tokoyami shook his head, then nodded.

He stood. "I'm fine, just a little–" Tokoyami cut himself off with a yawn. Hawks looked at the criminals. "What was that?" He demanded. The criminal in question shook with laughter. The other answered for her. "Its just a chemical our boss's been working on. None of your business, obviously." Hawks sighed, getting irritated.

"What the fuck was it?!" The criminals winced. "It was just a... I dont know, a thing! It'll wear off. Hopefully." Hawks ran a hand through his hair. "I asked what it was, not whether it would wear off or not." He said. The first criminal spoke again. "It's none of you business." He repeated, angry now.

Hawks was angry too. "Tell me what it was!" He spat, just as the police showed up. Hawks left unwillingly. Tokoyami swayed on his feet, feeling unsteady and hungry. He was fine two minutes ago, he couldn't understand what was—

"Tsukuyomi! Careful!" Hawks grabbed his arm and Tokoyami almost fell over. "M'sorry." He mumbled. God, his head was pounding. Hawks looked at him, concerned. "You wanna go back to the agency?" Hawks asked softly. Tokoyami blinked, and his eyes didn't open back up for a moment.

"Please." Hawks nodded and steered them in the direction of home. Once they got there, Tokoyami was practically asleep on Hawks. "Come on bud, nearly there." Tokoyami was sat on the couch. He immediately slumped forward onto Hawks's shoulder. Getting worried, Hawks tapped his interns beak. "Kiddo, you okay?"

Tokoyami had passed out on him.

Hawks sighed, and moved him so he was lying on the couch. Tokoyami looked peaceful for the first time all month. Hawks turned and went to grab a pillow and blanket. Hawks found himself yawning as he walked back. Tokoyami had moved, curled up in a fetal position taking up as little room as he could.

Hawks smiled and picked him up gently, wrapping the blanket around him. Tokoyami shivered slightly at the change, but fell quiet again. Hawks sat next to him and watched him for a little while, content. Even though it was a drug caused this, Hawks was happy that his intern was finally getting som rest.

His phone buzzed. Ahh, Endeavor found out. Hawks told him what was happening, and about Tokoyami getting a face full of green shit. "He should be fine. The criminals seem..." Endeavor trailed off, searching for the right words.

"They're dumb." Hawks laughed at Endeavors blunt words. "Yes, laugh while you can. They claimed these were going to be mass produced once their leader escaped custody." Hawks blinked. "What? We already caught their boss? Nice." Endeavor sighed. "Hawks, be serious here."

"Yeah, yeah. Listen, this looks like a job for number one. And as number two, I'm not doing shit." Hawks grinned as Endeavor snapped at him. "Gotta go!" Hawks pressed the hang up button.

"Hawks—"

Endeavor scowled at his phone as Hawks pocketed his. Hawks turned towards the kitchen when—

Tokoyami walked past him. He looked absolutely dead. He coughed as he reached for a tissue. Hawks sighed. "What am I gonna do with you? Come on, baby bird. Back on the couch." Tokoyami looked at Hawks, eyes unfocused. When he didnt respond, Hawks got slightly worried. "Kid?"

Tokoyami walked past him again, towards the gym. Hawks followed, curious. Tokoyami let the blanket wrapped around him fall and walked towards the weights. Hawks stared in partial amazement and concern as Tokoyami started exercising.

"Kid? Hey, wait a second—" Hawks had to quickly catch his intern, who could barely hold the weights up. "Kid, I'm all for training hard to be a hero, but this is..." Tokoyami didnt stop, pushing himself even though all he felt was pain. "This is excessive. You need to stop." Hawks used a few feathers to lift the weight and held the kids upper arm.

As soon as it was gone, Tokoyami fell forward. He was tired and sore, but that wasnt an excuse. But he didnt think he could move anymore even of he tried. Hawks knew that, too, and picked him up. "Jesus kid, have you gotten lighter?"

Hawks felt like Aziawa. He felt like a father, and he hated it. He just wanted his kid to take care of himself, for god's sake, was that so hard? Hawks sighed when Tokoyami tried to stand up again, but stopped when he saw him reaching for the blanket he'd abandoned on the floor.

Hawks picked it up and wrapped it around Tokoyami, who instantly curled into it without complaint. Hawks left him on the couch, and went to the kitchen. Could he call Aziawa? Nah, he'd yell at Hawks. Endeavor? Shitty parent, plus he was angry. That left....

"This should be fun, huh, baby bird?" Hawks said softly, hanging up the phone and settling next to Tokoyami again. Tokoyami sniffed. "I'm fine, really." His voice had become scratchy, and it sounded like it hurt to say. Tokoyami swallowed, and it felt like he was eating gravel.

Hawks nodded, not buying a word of it. "Sure. And Aziawa isnt tired right now." He probably was, anyways. "Why're you pushing yourself so much, anyway? It's not like you to be this self-destructive." Tokoyami's head snapped up, and he winced. "I'm not being self—" He dissolved into a coughing fit before he could choke the words out.

Hawks patted his kids back. "Hey, hey, baby bird, relax, breathe for me." He spoke softly, and the coughing stopped after a minute. Tokoyami took in a large breath, and Hawks was worried he'd choke again. When he didnt, Tokoyami tried again. "I'm not being self-destructive." Hawks nodded again. "Uh-huh." He said sarcastically. "Then what do you call training until you cant stand straight?"

Tokoyami paused, not being able to think of an answer. "That's what I thought." Hawks leaned back. "I'm not mad." Hawks lied, reassuring Tokoyami slightly. "I'm just worried. As your mentor and as your older bird bro. This isnt healthy." Tokoyami nodded numbly. He knew it wasnt, but that couldn't stop him.

Hawks was angry, not necessarily because his intern was training so hard, it was the fact that he seemed to be neglecting other aspects as well. According to Aziawa, Tokoyami had been doing better in classes, which would be good. If Tokoyami had been taking care of himself as well. Not once had Aziawa seen the kid eat or drink much in the past three weeks.

It seemed he had stopped sleeping, too. One of the other kids came to Aziawa about it, Hawks couldn't remember who, but they had seen Tokoyami outside at the crack of dawn almost every day before class. Hawks couldn't understand why Tokoyami hadn't stuck with the training regime he had laid out for him.

Tokoyami looked at him. He mumbled something. "Hmm? What was that?" Hawks leans forward. Tokoyami jumped slightly. He was silent for a minute. "You are mad. You're making that face again." Hawks stopped. "What face?!" Tokoyami glanced over at him.

"You always do this thing when your angry, it's hard to miss." Tokoyami explained. "You bite your tongue inbetween your front teeth and one eyebrow goes higher than the other." Tokoyami pointed at his face, though he couldn't show him. Hawks was amazed. He forgot he did that.

"Huh. How perceptive." Hawks laughed slightly. Tokoyami didnt answer. "Yeah, I'm a little angry." Hawks admitted. When he saw Tokoyami's face fall out of the corner of his eye, he was quick to explain. "I'm not angry at you, its just that— well, a friend is supposed to be here right now, and—" Hawks was cut off.

"So I'm taking up your time? Forgive me, I didnt mean to—" Tokoyami stood up shakily. Now both birds were talking over each other, mixing up everything. Hawks was louder, and his voice rang clear. "No! No, your not taking up anytime, sit down!" He gently pushed Tokoyami back onto the couch.

There was the sound of the door banging open, and Hawks sighed in relief. Help was here. "Sorry it took so long. Traffic was absolutely shit. Got some medicine though." Miruko came in, sitting on the coffee table. "Jesus, you dont look so good chick, what's up?" Her voice became soft. Tokoyami shrugged as Miruko ran a hand over his feathers.

Hawks relaxed. "That's why I called you. To help." Miruko nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Hey chicken, let's ditch the hawk and go get some food." She stood up and Tokoyami looked uncertainly over at Hawks. "Miruko, no. I dont think thats a good idea." Hawks said, glancing at the shopping bags. Miruko rolled her eyes and scooped Tokoyami up easily.

She seems to understand then. She blinked down at the kid, and then at Hawks. "Birdie, hate to be a helicopter parent here, but..." She sat down, Tokoyami still in her arm. Hawks tuned them out, and took out a thermometer. He looked up, and Miruko was poking Tokoyami's beak. "You gotta take care of yourself, or you'll fall apart, got it?"

Tokoyami nodded. He felt like he was being babied. He hated it. Yeah, sure, he hadn't eaten a lot, or slept, but he was fine. He didnt need Miruko to look at him like he was made of glass, or Hawks to worry over him like he was helpless. He wasnt helpless.

Tokoyami moved away. Miruko held an arm out, and Hawks tried to get him to sit back down. "I'm fine." Tokoyami walked away. Hawks stared after him. Tokoyami walked down the hallway before turning a corner and breaking into a run. This was a mistake. He was going to get sick. Where was the bathroom? It was all blurring together.

He got to a door and walked in. Thank god he chose the right door. Doubling over, he emptied his guts into the toilet. "This is so unfair..." He groaned, before ducking his head into the basin again. His stomach was empty, what was he puking?! The lights were so bright, they hurt his eyes.

He slumped uselessly against the rim, feeling drained. From what? Puking? He really was weak. His eyes slipped shut, and Tokoyami felt sleep tug in the back of his mind. He shook himself and tried to get up. The world span and Tokoyami fell, smaking onto the tile harshly. There was a loud bang, which he hoped wasnt something important. His eyes fell closed again, and the world faded out.

Hawks and Miruko were talking. "I don't like it. You sure this was intentional?" Hawks nodded. "There's no way he accidentally forget to feed himself." Miruko let down a forced laugh, and nodded. "Speaking of, where is he? It's been a few minutes—" There was a crash from down the hall. Hawks stood up quickly and took off, Miruko was right behind him. "Oh shit..." Miruko saw Tokoyami passed out on the floor.

Hawks knelt beside him. "Baby bird? You okay?" Tokoyami let out a puff of air, but didnt react. Hawks sighed. "Fucking hell, kid..." Hawks picked him up. Miruko led them back to the main office. Hawks went for the elevator. "Grab the bags." Miruko nodded, and in no time they were up on the top floor.

Hawks put Tokoyami into his room, knowing the couch wasnt as comfortable. Miruko checked his temperature. "That's a high number Hawks, I'm really starting to hate this." Hawks nodded along. "He should learn a lesson from this, but I'll beat self-care into him if I have too." Miruko cracked a laugh at that.

They ended up ordering food, making sure to order extra for Tokoyami. Hawks went in every once in a while to make sure nothing bad had happened. Other than a small fever dream, Tokoyami slept peacefully. Miruko and Hawks settled, when Aziawa called.

"Care to tell me why my student hasn't returned yet? Can't he go one day without you doing something stupid?" Aziawa snapped over the line. Hawks explained what happened over the day. "I honestly cannot say I'm surprised." Aziawa sighed. "Though I will have to scold him about poor health management." Miruko joined in, swallowing her food. "No need, we already beat him up."

Aziawa rolled his eyes over the line. "Whatever. I'm his teacher, I should have been able to prevent this." Hawks nodded along, his feathers sensing movement. "You keep Eraserhead busy." Hawks whispered, and disappeared down the hall. Hawks's bedroom door was open, and Tokoyami had rolled over, staring at the ceiling.

He looked like shit. "Hey baby bird, you doing okay?" Hawks approached carefully. Tokoyami looked over at him and sat up. He looked ready to cry. Hawks sat on the bed, wings splayed around them both, shielding them. "What's up?" Hawks asked quietly.

Tokoyami shook his head, and tears gathered in the corner of his eyes. He felt tired and sick, and suddenly the tears wouldn't stop. Panicking, Hawks threw his arms around his kid, embracing him tightly. Tokoyami gripped Hawks's jacket, burying his face into Hawks shoulder. His entire frame shook and he tried not to make any noise.

Hawks rubbed his back softly. "Its okay, you're okay. I'm here." Hawks wasnt sure what caused this, but he was concerned to say the least. Tokoyami hiccuped and studdered out apologises. "Why are you sorry? You didnt do anything wrong, baby bird." Tokoyami shook his head. "M'didn't mean t'make you worry, just wante' t'be better..." Hawks looked down at his kid. "Oh, kiddo..." It made sense now. It still made his blood boil, but it made sense.

"Baby bird, this isnt how you get stronger, okay? This is how you hurt yourself." Hawks said gently, and Tokoyami nodded, apologising again. Hawks hushed him. Tokoyami stilled after a while, breathing returning to normal. "You feeling better?" Tokoyami shrugged. Hawks laughed softly.

"You wanna try eating?" Tokoyami looked up. No, he didnt. But it would be rude to deny something offered to him. Tokoyami nodded, and Hawks brought him in. Miruko gave them a knowing grin and turned back to the phone. "He's here, Eraser! You can beat him up now."

Tokoyami froze. "Mr. Aziawa...?" The phone was passed to him. "Tokoyami." Aziawa began. "You should already be aware of this, but—"

The phone was snatched out of Aziawa's hands. "Fucking bird! I'll kill you!" Bakugo was running as he yelled. "We heard what happened from Earphones, and when you get back, I'm gonna fucking—"

Iida came into view. "Bakugo, behave yourself!" Tokoyami sighed. "Thank you Iida-" Iida glared at the phone. "Tokoyami, as class president, I'll have to scold you too." Tokoyami let his head fall back as Iida started yelling. Hawks snickered and Miruko laughed loudly.

"Iida, Bakugo! Get back here— Yayorozu I've already told you, you and Shouji cant leave! No, I dont wanna hear it— Bakugo Kasuki!" Aziawa was screaming over the line.

Hawks covered Tokoyami's ears as Aziawa let out a spew of curse words. Miruko laughed again, and added her hands. Aziawa came into view again and stared at the three. He shook his head. "Tokoyami lives with Bakugo. He's heard much worse, I assure you."

Hawks gasped dramatically. "My intern? My Fumikage listening to curse words? Never!" Tokoyami couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, and his shoulders shook. Hawks gasped again, but it was genuine. "Did I just get my dark and edgy intern to laugh?" Hawks looked up at Miruko, amazed. Miruko grinned wide.

Tokoyami laughed louder at the sight of Hawks's face. Miruko joined in, and Aziawa decided fuck it, and let them laugh. He could give out shit later. The laughter didnt die down until Tokoyami started coughing his lungs up. Hawks steadied him while Aziawa spoke.

"It seems you're already aware of the absolute hell that awaits you when you get back." Tokoyami winced and nodded. Aziawa continued. "However, I will be asking you to start taking care of yourself. I know how this sounds, but you shouldn't prioritize an 'A' over your health. Yes, you should try do well, but I'm not asking for you to ignore your needs to do that."

Aziawa sighed. "I apologise if we made you think that your grades were more important." At this, Tokoyami's head snapped up. "Sir, you didnt make me— this isn't your fault!" Tokoyami couldn't grasp the concept. Nothing about this was Mr. Aziawa's doing. Aziawa raised a brow, but didnt comment. "Now, as punishment for refusing to preform self-care, you wont be participating in training next week." Tokoyami nodded.

"Instead," Aziawa explained. "You and a few others I have caught will be resting in the dorms during this time. I expect you to catch up on all the sleep you missed, and you're to eat regularly." Tokoyami nodded, confused. "As in if you dont eat, it'll be shoved down your throat." Tokoyami gulped and his grip on his shirt tightened. He didnt enjoy the image of having food shoved down his throat.

"We'll make sure he does! And we'll get the others that havent been taking care of themselves too!" Mina yelled from offscreen. Hawks snorted and Aziawa sighed. "Well, that's all from me. Get some sleep, you can come back tomorrow." Tokoyami nodded. "Thank you, sir." Aziawa looked at him.

"Anytime, problem-child." Aziawa hung up. Hawks leaned back. "Well, that went okay." He commented. Miruko shrugged, and Tokoyami fell back against the couch. Miruko took some chicken out of the takeout bag and presented it to Tokoyami. "Eat up, chick. This'll help make the pain go away." It wouldn't, they all knew. But it was a start.

Tokoyami chewed slowly, almost afraid to swallow. He didnt want to puke again. Hawks encouraged him, and Tokoyami swallowed. Immediately, he doubled over, having something in his system for the first time all month was a lot more painful than he thought it would be. Hawks patted his back as he heaved.

"Easy, easy, baby bird. You can do it. Try again for me, okay?" Tokoyami shook his head. Miruko bent low. "Come on chick, you can do it." Tokoyami took it slow, and ate some more. He didnt keep it all down, but eventually something stayed in his stomach. Hawks wrapped an arm around him. The three ended up watching a movie together.

Around halfway through, Miruko brought out ice-cream, and Tokoyami found that to be a lot easier to eat, as it was kind of melted. Tokoyami managed to keep it down, and he conked out at the most important scene of the movie. Hawks was disgusted, but Miruko slapped him before he could wake Tokoyami up.

Hawks used his feathers to clean up, and he and Miruko fell asleep on the couch two hours later, Tokoyami wedged in the middle. Endeavor stopped by, and saw them sleeping peacefully. He scoffed at first, but decided against waking them up. He left the paperwork and disappeared.

The next morning, Hawks woke up to Tokoyami's spot abandoned. "Baby bird? Where'd you go?" Hawks stood up, Miruko shifted, but didnt wake. Hawks heard something from the bathroom. Hawks walked in to find Tokoyami, puking up last nights meal.

"Baby bird? Why didnt you wake me up?" Hawks sat next to him and rubbed his back. Tokoyami finished, and fell slack against Hawks. "Didn't wanna..." Tokoyami sighed, eyes closing. "How much did you sleep?" Tokoyami didnt answer. "Fumika— oh." Hawks stared down at the sleeping teen. So he hadn't slept much, then. Hawks sat there for a moment, before moving and picking Tokoyami up.

He left Tokoyami in his room, and Tokoyami grabbed his sleeve. Hawks sat down again, and Tokoyami drifted off. Hawks scrolled through his phone, when Aziawa called again. "What's up?" Hawks asked, holding the phone to his ear. "I said bring him back tomorrow, does that mean nothing to you?!" Hawks blinked.

"What?" Aziawa sighed, angry. "Hawks it's almost three o'clock in the afternoon. I called you at ten last night." Hawks suddenly laughed. "Sorry, kids still sleeping. I'll bring him over in a while." Aziawa huffed, but hung up. Hawk sighed and dropped the phone as Tokoyami shifted against him.

Hawks ran a hand through his kids feathers. "You are gonna be the death of me, baby bird." Tokoyami didnt respond. Hawks looked at the ceiling, smiling.

Hawks couldn't bring himself to care.

Hawks sent Tokoyami on his way, and he got yelled at. A lot. Also he was fed, which was good. He, Midoryia and Shinsou ended up not going to training the next week, dedicating the week to 'self-care'. None of them really wanted to, but it was this or have Iida, Bakugo and the rest of 1A on their asses, so they went with self-care.

Tokoyami drifted off to sleep, a fresh cup of tea drank and his lunch eaten. He gave Dark Shadow skriches, and the shadow purred happily and curled up. Tokoyami looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, content and healthy.

These kids need to take care of themselves or I will—

Also I lied this was kinda sad, sorry—

Hope you enjoyed! The next one will be out ass soon as I can get it out, sorry for any delay!

#boku no hero academia #tokoyami #bnha hawks #bnha miruko #there are a solid 26 thousand words here which im proud of xD #buy also this could be longer lmao

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