#the big grey company fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kookslastbutton · 4 months ago

Text

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iv

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 11.3k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, tornado of emotions (you might laugh, you might cry, and you might just wanna punch something after this chapter), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, denial, self-deprecation in some aspect, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: So, elephant in the room....how did this get past 11k when other chapters are significantly shorter? Well...I had ideas? I'm sorry!! 🫠 ANYWAY more angst in this chapter. Sorry not sorry for what you will consume here. I honestly love this chapter so much though! Okay, I won't say any more bc spoilers are cool but not in my fic! (hehe) Enjoy! 🥰

series masterlist | next >>

Numb.

It’s the only word you can rummage up to describe the sudden shift in your demeanor. You’d think one’s typical response to their ex-husband’s drunken confession would be one of confusion, anger, hurt, or the like.

But you’ve gone stone cold instead, barely able to feel the steaming hot water that kisses your skin from within the tub. The room seems to have become a bit of a haze too, your vision blurring as you grip your cell phone in your hand.

The absurdity of it all—the man who handed you divorce papers now professing his love—feels like a cruel joke. The sheer impossibility of the situation is almost laughable, yet you can't even bring yourself to do that at this point. You've exhausted all of your emotional resources.

You’re unsure how many seconds pass before his voice calls your name again.

“__? Are you still there?” His voice is a muffled echo in your mind. It sounds so far away, though you know he’s right here on the other end of the line.

"Honestly Jungkook…I don’t know what you expect me to say.” The words come out slow, measured, and almost emotionless.

There's a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of his confession. "I guess—I'm not sure either. But I just needed you to know. I needed to tell you everything."

“You're drunk. You realize that, right?"

“I had a few beers, yeah," he admits. "Maybe I'm a little tipsy. But it doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. I miss you, __, a lot."

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re back in the past, back when those words would have meant the world to you. But now, they feel hollow, devoid of the warmth they once carried. And how can they not? You tethered yourself to your ex-husband for three years, learned his patterns, became acquainted with his needs, and danced with his indifference. In the end, the result is always the same, and this time is no different. By morning, he'll likely forget everything he's ever said to you and return to his normal habits.

You take a deep breath, your head resting on the cool porcelain tub, and close your eyes. "I can’t do this," you say quietly. "Not now."

"It's late. I understand-"

"No," you interrupt, voice firmer, "you don't understand, Jungkook. You don't understand me and you never have. I'm hanging up now."

"Please don't. I know I've hurt-"

"Stop. Do you know how patronizing that sounds to me? Please don't call this number again."

"But... I love you, __," his voice is barely a whisper. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"Goodbye, Jungkook." You end the call before another word can drop from his lips, or yours for that matter. It's time you accept that you are never more than an impulsive decision, a temporary solution, and an item on his agenda. Tonight's conversation solidifies that for you.

Despite being sleep-deprived the next morning, you refuse to let fatigue keep you from fulfilling your promise to visit Taehyung at the hospital. You've been anxious about him all night, tossing and turning without respite. The weight of your ex-husband's drunken confession added to your restlessness as well. Nevertheless, you push it out of your mind as you bound out the front door.

Upon arrival, you are greeted by an abundance of flowers, cards, and thoughtful gifts scattered around Taehyung’s hospital room. One bouquet on the windowsill catches your attention in particular—its familiar scent of lavender is instantly recognizable.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice says from behind you. You turn to see Dr. Min entering the room, Taehyung’s chart in hand. He seems more lively than last night, his expression noticeably brighter with a faint smile on his lips.

“Yes, they’re lovely,” you reply. “I’m guessing these are from Taehyung’s fans and colleagues?”

He nods. “Indeed. Lavender is a calming scent. It’s no wonder people chose it for him.” The corners of his mouth lift slightly before he continues, “My girlfriend loves it too. She says it helps her relax after a long day.”

The comment is unexpected yet sweet. You notice the suppressed grin and the warmth in his eyes easily, signaling his deep affection for her. You wonder how it must feel to love someone so purely and without restraint. Before the thought lingers, your gaze shifts involuntarily to the man on the hospital bed, still asleep. Though the bandages are gone and his breathing is stable, your concern deepens as you take in his nearly still form.

“How’s he doing?” you ask, moving closer to his bed. Your heart tightens with each step as the cuts and burns on his face become more visible.

“He’s lucky,” Dr. Min says, walking to the opposite side of the bed, his tone growing serious. “He has multiple rib fractures, a mild concussion, and a few burns, but it could have been worse. Taehyung is stable now, and we’re monitoring his progress closely.”

“How long will it take for him to heal?”

“His face burns are only second-degree, so they should heal in a couple of weeks. The concussion should also resolve with ample rest and by avoiding strenuous activity—both physical and mental.”

“Which means he won’t be able to act for a while?” you ask, reading between the lines.

“Afraid not,” Dr. Min dismisses the idea. “Hopefully, his projects can accommodate his absence.”

“What about his rib fractures? I imagine those will require the most attention.” You feel like you might be asking too many questions, knowing Dr. Min will likely need to repeat everything to Taehyung later, but you can't hold back. After all, you made a promise to yourself last night that you'd ensure he'd be alright.

“Yes," Dr. Min answers carefully, "they could take up to three months to fully heal. We recommend applying ice for 20 minutes at a time, several times a day. As long as he remains stable over the next few days, he can be discharged to continue his recovery at home." He pauses, allowing you to process the information before continuing. "It's crucial that he rests. Even if he feels bursts of energy, he needs to let his body heal. Light activities like breathing exercises and short walks are fine, but he should avoid intense exercises until we give the all-clear.”

You nod thoughtfully, absorbing Dr. Min’s detailed prognosis. Taehyung’s condition sounds serious but manageable. After such a traumatic accident, it's clear he'll need months to heal. Getting him to adhere to the doctor's orders will be challenging, given his profession and active social calendar. However, if you need to be the one to remind him, you will.

“I’ll make sure he follows your recommendations,” you assure Dr. Min, your voice tinged with concern.

“I have no doubt,” Dr. Min replies with a reassuring smile. “You know, you're the first person who’s shown up for him both last night and today. Aside from that young man who came in briefly. Namjoon, right?”

“Yeah,” you respond slowly, the revelation catching you off guard. “He works as my secretary but he's also a good friend of Taehyung's. His family really hasn’t come in yet?” You circle back to Dr. Min's first point with a sense of urgency.

You wouldn't normally be this insistent on the matter; however, past conversations with Taehyung have revealed how much he cherishes his family, often sharing stories about their reunions with warmth and enthusiasm. With such a loving family, you’re taken aback that they haven’t shown up yet. Then again, his accident was sudden, and there could be various reasons for their delay. Do they even know about his accident, for that matter?

“They called, of course, but you’re the first to actually come in,” Dr. Min clarifies, his gaze thoughtful as he responds to your concern. "You must be quite an attentive boss to show this level of care for your colleague."

There's an underlying suggestiveness laced in his tone, but you're quick to brush it off, redirecting the focus to Taehyung’s condition. “It’s the least I can do, given what he’s going through,” you say, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “He’s a valuable member of our team, and I want to make sure he gets back on his feet as soon as possible.”

Dr. Min's eyes twinkle, as if holding back further commentary. “Even from a professional standpoint, not everyone would go to such lengths for a coworker. He’s fortunate to have you.”

You feel a slight flush as his subtle implications continue. “Well, I just…care about his well-being. Besides,” you glance back at Taehyung, your expression softening more than you intend, “I know he'd do the same for me.”

For a few short breaths, Dr. Min remains silent as your attention remains fixed on your colleague. “I need to check on a few other patients so I’ll leave you two alone for now," he finally says, breaking the silence. “I'll be back to check in on him again later, but if you have any questions or need anything in the meantime, the nurse is nearby."

With a nod and a soft "thank you," you watch Dr. Min exit the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung once more. After settling into a chair beside his bed, you silently observe the steady rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic sound of his breathing is a small comfort amidst his vulnerable state. Despite everything, you're glad he's going to be okay.

As each minute passes, nurses come and go, and the hum of activity outside the room gradually fades into a background murmur. You had only planned to stay for an hour this morning, but time seems to slip away as the clock now nears 1 p.m. You had hoped Taehyung would be awake by now, but he remains still.

After a brief sigh, the thought occurs to you that you don't have to spend so many hours here, waiting for Taehyung to wake up. It's the weekend, and there are plenty of other things you could be doing instead. Dr. Min could easily call you the moment Taehyung wakes up. But something in your conscience urges you not to leave. Just give it another hour, you think. If he isn’t awake by then, you can come back tomorrow.

Suddenly, a slight movement catches your eye. Taehyung's fingers twitch, and his eyelids flutter. You nearly missed it with how lost you were in your thoughts.

Leaning forward with nervous relief, you softly call his name. It takes him a few seconds, but slowly, his eyes blink open. He turns his head slightly, gaze eventually finding yours, and you feel momentarily transfixed. It's unlike you to respond this way, but you had forgotten how piercing and comforting his eyes could be. A genuine smile immediately spreads across his face once your eyes meet, though not as boxy as usual due to his condition. Nevertheless, it's encouraging to see him awake and responsive.

“Hi," his voice is strained but recognizable. "It's...nice to see you."

“The feeling's mutual,” you respond gently. “How are you feeling?”

He shifts slightly, wincing a bit. “Like I got hit by a truck,” he mutters. “I’m sore all over.”

“You had a close call, but you’re in good hands now. Your doctor, Dr. Min, says you'll be okay, as long as you take it easy for a while. He was here earlier this morning, but he'll check in with you again soon.”

"You..." He hesitates, surprise flickering in his eyes. "You've been here since morning? What time is it now?"

"Oh, uh, it's around 1 in the afternoon," you say, gradually realizing the weight of your words. You consider whether or not to tell him the full extent of your stay. “I got here a few hours ago. Don’t worry.”

Taehyung nods slightly, a mix of gratitude and concern evident in his expression. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs. “I wasn't sure if I'd be alone.”

A sinking feeling settles in your chest at his words, your throat tightening. Before you can ask what he means, he continues, “I must have taken a lot of your weekend from you.” His tone is apologetic, and your heart aches. Here he is, lying on a hospital bed, in pain and vulnerable, and he’s worried about inconveniencing you.

“I'm glad to be here,” you reassure gently. “I promise, you’re not alone. A lot of people care about you.”

Taehyung glances around, taking in the gifts and flowers scattered throughout the room. “From my fans, I’m guessing?” he asks, attempting to keep his tone light.

“And your colleagues too,” you reply. “We all want to see you get better." Taehyung returns his gaze to you, a faint smile lingering on his lips. Neither of you says anything, which unsettles you.

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask, the question coming out more hurriedly than intended.

“I drifted in and out for most of the night. It’s hard to get comfortable,” he admits, "I think I could still hear a lot around me. It felt like someone was holding my hand for a few minutes too, but I’m not sure how much of it was real or just dreams, though.”

Oh shit. You weren't expecting that answer.

The possibility that Taehyung might have heard you talking to him last night shouldn't be that embarrassing, yet your mind races with thoughts of what he might have heard or understood in his semi-conscious state. Not only did you share more than you probably should have, but you also touched his hand to feel his pulse, and he felt it.

“Well, um, I'm sorry to hear you had a rough night. You should rest more,” you suggest, trying to compose yourself. "I should get going anyway and let you sleep.” You begin standing from your seat but don't get far before the gentlest of touches brush against your wrist. When you look at Taehyung, he quickly retracts his fingers, concerned he overstepped.

"Shit, I'm sorry, __. I didn't mean to grab at you like that," he says softly. "It's just...would you mind staying with me a little longer, please? I'd really appreciate the company."

You can hear the yearning in his request. It's clear that he doesn't want to be alone, and you don't blame him, especially after the accident he's endured. Settling back into the chair, you agree to stay a bit longer, perhaps another half hour, before heading home; you realize you haven't eaten lunch yet.

"So, how are you doing?" he asks. "We haven't talked in bit."

His question triggers a flood of thoughts, the most recent interaction with your ex-husband being one of them. Up until now, you've managed to push his drunken call out of your mind, preferring to focus on Taehyung instead. However, Jungkook's unexpected confession still throws you for a loop. It's not that you're riddled with the need for clarity on its validity, especially since you don't believe him anyway. How could he claim to love you when he also admits he doesn't understand his own feelings? On top of that, being drunk while doing so—it doesn't make sense.

No, the real question now is what happens next. How do you proceed? Will he try to reach out again? The way he asked if you still loved him before you ended the call weighs on your mind even now.

You know you'll need to discuss this with Melody during your next therapy session.

Before you spiral further, you decide to steer the conversation away from personal matters and opt for a safer topic.

"The company is doing well," you reply with a smile. "The new campaigns we've put out recently have been pretty successful. Although," you add, a hint of curiosity in your tone, "the team has missed your frequent drop-ins, especially Namjoon." If you're honest with yourself, you've missed them too.

"How is he? Namjoon?"

"He's okay, but he's been concerned for you," you answer carefully. "When we heard the news, we came to see you together, but he was quite affected. He promised to visit once you woke up."

"So," Taehyung takes a moment to process. "That was this morning, right?"

"No, actually, it was yesterday."

There's a brief, awkward silence as you sense Taehyung might be thinking the same thing you are—about your presence last night. Surprisingly, he doesn't bring it up. Instead, he eyes you curiously, biting down on his lip slightly.

"I meant to stop by last week," he admits. "But we were wrapping up the final scenes of my film shoots. The producers were eager to finish them. I'm just thankful we got them done. I wanted to spend a day riding my bike along a scenic route until... well, until all of this happened. I don't remember much, but I'm just grateful Tan wasn't with me."

"Tan?" you ask, curious now.

"Yeontan, my pomeranian," Taehyung explains with a soft smile. "He means the world to me. My parents take care of him when I'm busy with filming. I was actually planning to drive up and visit them this weekend. And, of course, bring Tan back home with me. They live pretty far from here, so it's better that I go up to them if I can."

Well, that answers the question about his parents not being here yet, you think to yourself.

As Taehyung speaks, you can see a flicker of fondness and relief in his eyes when he mentions his dog. It must have been months since he last saw him.

"I bet you miss him a lot," you comment softly, "Tan."

"I do," he admits with a slight smile, "but I know he's being well taken care of. Hopefully, I can see him soon. And my parents too."

"I understand that feeling," you reply, nodding thoughtfully. "Pets have a way of becoming family, don't they? I had a cat named Evie when I was growing up. She was a feisty little thing with green eyes, always getting into mischief. We got her from the streets and she was so slim, but it didn't take her long to beef up with all the treats we gave her. Whenever I was feeling down, she would curl up next to me, as if she knew. It's funny how they have that kind of intuition, isn't it?"

Taehyung listens intently, a small smile playing on his lips. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment at your tangent. It's one of the few times you've shared something personal about yourself that wasn't work-related. Feeling like you might have overshared, you decide to stop, assuming Taehyung isn't interested in knowing that much.

You chuckle inwardly at yourself.

Jungkook was your husband for three years, and he never seemed to care about such personal details.

I—" you start, intending to apologize, but Taehyung interrupts.

"Did you have any other pets?" he asks, curiosity piqued.

You chuckle softly, reminiscing. "Yeah, we had... uh, god, you don't want to know how many pets we had."

"Try me," his eyes become playful, yet there's a seriousness behind them, like he really wants to know. It's unfamiliar.

"Alright," you chuckle, "aside from Evie, there were three other cats. Calvin and Misha were the adventurous ones, always climbing trees, while Pip was the cuddly lap cat. Then there were two dogs: Toby, our sneaky Chihuahua, and Bella, a terrier who growled at everyone. Oh, and we had three rabbits too. Cute, but also feisty."

Taehyung laughs, "I sense a theme going on."

"What theme?"

"Well," he grins, "It seems like your household was filled with some strong main characters."

You chuckle at his joke. "Yeah, our house was never quiet, that's for sure. Each one had their own personality and quirks."

"You don't have any now though? Pets, I mean," Taehyung asks.

"Sadly, I don't," you reply with a hint of regret. "The company takes up a lot of my time, and I don't think it would be right to leave a pet alone for extended periods. I might consider getting another cat, but right now, focusing on running the company leaves me with little spare time. I miss having them around though."

Taehyung mulls over your word carefully. “If I ever get out of this hospital...maybe I—”

Before he has the chance to finish, the hospital room door opens, and Dr. Min enters, his expression serious yet composed. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, not expecting to see you still here and Taehyung awake. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he begins, glancing between you and his patient. “It’s good to see you up and looking a bit better."

Dr. Min approaches Taehyung's side, opposite to you. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

Taehyung's demeanor shifts instantly, his playful expression fading as he turns to answer. “Pretty sore, honestly,” he replies.

Dr. Min nods. “Let’s run a few checks to see how you’re doing.”

Sensing this is your cue to leave, you rise from your chair and reach out to touch Taehyung's hand. But you stop yourself short. Something about performing the physical action while he’s fully conscious instills a flutter of nerves within you. Instead, you gently tap his shoulder, causing him to meet your eyes. “I think I'll be going now, but it was nice talking to you,” you say softly. "Was there something you wanted to say earlier, though?"

He pauses for a moment before replying, his expression reminiscent of the time a few weeks ago when you declined his dinner invitation. You still don’t understand why he seemed somewhat disappointed; it's not like it was a date. He had made it clear he wanted to go out as colleagues. The only reason you declined was because you didn’t want him feeling pity for you, or the struggles that came with the divorce.

"It's okay, we'll have to save that conversation for another time," Taehyung's voice brings you back to the present. "Enjoy the rest of your day, __. Thanks again for staying with me."

"Of course," you reply, then turn to Dr. Min. "If you wouldn't mind letting me know when and if he can be discharged, I'd appreciate it. And Kim Namjoon too, since we're both nearby." Dr. Min nods in agreement. With that, you sling your bag over your shoulder and exit the room.

“He said what?!” Your best friend Jimin almost shouts through the video call, eyes wide with disbelief. You’ve just finished recounting your ex-husband's unexpected, drunken confession from the previous night. Jimin, who already holds a deep-seated grudge against Jungkook, looks livid.

“He had the nerve to say that to you? While he was drunk?” Jimin continues, his hands clenching into fists.

You nod, feeling a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “Yeah, I told him not to call my number again and he hasn't contacted me since.” As expected, he likely forgot all about it.

“Good,” Jimin declares with a fierce protectiveness, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You don’t need that kind of drama in your life, especially not from him. And if he even thinks about calling you again, just say the word, and I'll come down there and handle it personally.” He emphasizes 'personally' with such intensity that it makes you giggle for the first time tonight.

“Thanks, Jimin,” you say, a warm feeling spreading through you at his unwavering support. “I’m just trying to move on, focus on work, and other things.”

Jimin’s expression softens, and he nods firmly. “You're incredibly strong, __. Are you really okay though? It was a huge blow for him to make a confession like that and even though I dislike him, I know you still have some lingering feelings for him. I'm not a fool to believe you're unaffected.”

You take a deep breath, appreciating your best friend's perceptiveness. “It’s complicated. I’m trying so hard to move past everything, especially with Melody's help, and then he just…throws that at me. It’s like he’s trying to pull me back into his mess.”

Jimin’s eyes are filled with concern. “You don’t owe him anything. Remember that. He made his choices, and you have every right to move on without his baggage.”

“I know,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “It’s just…easier said than done. But I’m working on it.”

“You’re doing great,” Jimin reassures, his voice gentle. “And you have every right to focus on yourself now. Don’t let him mess with your head.”

You nod, feeling a bit lighter with the support. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”

“I'm always here for you love,” he says, his protective demeanor softening into a warm smile. “Now, enough about that idiot. How’s everything else? Work? Taehyung? Everyone at the office is talking about his unfortunate accident, poor sucker.”

At the mention of your colleague, you feel a sudden heat rise to your cheeks. Did the heaters in your apartment just turn up or something?

“He’s slowly recovering," you answer. "I saw him this morning and we talked for a bit. He’s... he’s been through a lot.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, “You saw him yesterday too, right? And if my memory serves, you were at the hospital with him until the afternoon. I remember I texted you to see if you were free to call earlier than planned. Something you'd like to tell me?” A teasing grin suddenly spreads across his face, and you shake your head, knowing exactly what he's insinuating. It's like talking to Dr. Min all over again.

“Seriously, Chim, no, it's not like that," you deny instantly, heart racing a little. "He's been my company endorser for a little over six months now, and he’s been nothing but kind to me. With everything he’s been through, I just want to make sure he'll be okay. I feel somewhat responsible for him. Maybe I'm crazy.”

“Responsibility, huh?” Jimin smirks, unconvinced of your denial. “Sure. Because ‘responsibility’ usually makes people blush.”

You wave off his suspicions, a nervous chuckle escaping you. “I’m not, so if you wouldn't mind ceasing your teasing, that'd be great."

“Okay, okay,” Jimin chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if you ask me, it sounds like more than just responsibility. Taehyung seems like a sweet guy, and you care about him. And I sense he feels the same way about you. Don't think I forgot about his little dinner request weeks back.”

You chuckle, brushing off his suspicions. “Oh, come on, enough. Believing that Kim Taehyung has any kind of interest in me is like believing that Jungkook loves me. It’s unfathomable. Taehyung's a colleague, that’s all.”

“Okay, excuse me? Unfathomable?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Someone help! My best friend is selling themselves short, again. __, you’re amazing, and anyone, including Taehyung, would be lucky to have you. That ex-husband of yours was an idiot, but just because he couldn't see what he had doesn’t mean others can’t.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but Jimin’s words hit a soft spot. “Chim, you're sweet, but I'm just saying that Taehyung is on a completely different level. I’m just me... a 30-year-old divorcee with a half-decent startup.” Those alone are enough to have any man steer clear of you.

“Stop this, __. You're much more than that, and it's pretty damn incredible,” Jimin insists, his voice firm. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still standing. That’s not something to brush off. Taehyung sees that. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”

You sigh, feeling a mixture of gratitude and skepticism. “I appreciate it, Chim. But let’s just drop it, please?”

“Alright, I won't push it," he concedes gently, "just know I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thanks, Jimin,” you reply, feeling a warmth in your heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably explode from all that bottled-up stress,” he jokes, making you laugh again. “But seriously, you’re doing great. Just keep taking it one step at a time, and call me if you need anything!”

As the call ends, you’re left with a lot to think about. Jimin’s words echo in your mind, and for a brief second, you find yourself wondering if maybe your best friend is right—that perhaps you do care about your colleague more than you’re willing to admit.

Well, either way, it doesn't matter; you've got enough on your plate as it is.

Starting with the stack of papers laid out on the coffee table, work you brought home that's awaiting your attention. It's a critical deal for your startup, one that could secure much-needed funding and propel your business to the next level.

Sighing softly, you reach for your laptop and open the latest project proposal.

You start your Sunday as you always do, with a book in hand, heading to your favorite café. It’s a ritual that’s been with you since your teenage years, and today, you feel a desperate need for its familiar comfort. After wrapping up the project proposal late into the night, your brain craved a break.

Entering the quaint café, you’re greeted by the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversation. Finding a cozy spot by the large window, you settle in for a day of reading, occasionally looking up to observe people passing by outside.

Hours slip away unnoticed in the serene atmosphere, lost in the pages of your book. Somewhere along the way, mid-sentence, your thoughts subconsciously drift to a conversation with Taehyung weeks before his accident—the day of your six-month anniversary.

You remember how he mentioned his interest in books that day, leaving you curious about what he enjoys reading. You imagine he might be into classic authors like Charles Dickens or Oscar Wilde. Then again, you might be mistaken.

Refocusing on your book, you manage to read another paragraph before thoughts of Taehyung intrude again. Did he have any company today? You quietly hope Namjoon paid him a visit. "Okay, __, calm down," you tell yourself, "Taehyung will be fine, and Namjoon definitely would have visited him now that he's awake." With a determined effort, you return to your book.

It isn't until the sun begins its descent that you decide it's time to pack up your things and head home. Passing by the hospital on your way, a sense of restlessness tugs at you once more. Should you stop and see Taehyung, even if only for a few minutes? The thought lingers, but then you recall Dr. Min's pending update on his discharge status. Maybe it's best to wait for his confirmation.

You continue driving, but the concern refuses to leave your mind. Eventually, you make a decisive turn, heading back towards the hospital. It wouldn't be as lengthy as last time—just a quick visit to check on how he's doing.

When you arrive at the hospital, you hesitate for a moment outside the entrance. It's Sunday evening, and visiting hours are likely limited. You check your phone quickly to see if Dr. Min has sent any updates, but there's nothing new.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to go in anyway.

Taehyung is awake when the nurse leads you to his room, casually flipping through a magazine. He looks up, his expression softening into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hey," you say softly, stepping inside. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. I hope it's okay."

"It's more than okay," he replies warmly, setting the magazine aside. "I'm happy to see you."

You nod, feeling relieved that he isn't disturbed by your presence.

"Though, in all honesty," he continues, "I didn't expect you back today."

"I just wanted to check on you and make sure you're okay," you admit quietly, taking a seat nearby. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm better, just a bit sore still," he says sincerely, his gaze meeting yours. "What about you? How's your Sunday been?"

"Quiet," you respond with a small smile. "Spent most of it reading at a café, and then decided to stop by here."

"Really?" His interest piqued, he asks, "Which one? Sometimes I do the same thing when I have some free time. Or, I'll read at the beach too. It's relaxing."

"Well, have you tried the one on Willow Street? I've been a regular there since I was 16."

"No... I'm not familiar with that one," he admits, "I usually go to the one on 5th."

"5th? You know, I don't recall a café on 5th, unless..." you pause, realization dawning, "oh no," you blurt out unintentionally.

"What?" Taehyung's eyes twinkle with amusement at your spontaneous reaction. "Have you been?"

You hesitate to answer, not wanting to risk offending him.

"Yes..."

"And?" Crap, you were hoping he wouldn't ask for details.

"Um... it's okay," you reply simply.

"What? Just okay?" Taehyung exclaims, feigning offense. "Their coffee and tea are decent, and they have those comfy armchairs by the window."

"I know, but there's just something about it," you reply with a playful shrug. "Maybe it's the lighting, or maybe I'm just picky."

"Fair enough," he chuckles. "Maybe I'll check out this Willow Street café sometime. You've been going there for years, so it must be good."

"Well, I highly recommend it." You can't help but feel a bit smug, though you try to keep a straight face. It's just nice to have someone take your suggestion seriously. "You'll have to tell me your review of the place if you go."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully in reply, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of admiration. You look away, pretending to straighten your jacket. Why is he staring like that? You're not used to being looked at without some sense of hostility.

Just as you begin to feel a bit awkward, the door swings open, and a nurse peeks inside.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says kindly, "but visiting hours are over for the evening."

You glance at your watch, surprised at how quickly time has flown. "Oh, okay," you reply, a touch disappointed. "I'll be heading out then, thank you."

Once the nurse leaves, you direct your focus back to Taehyung. He smiles understandingly, sitting up a bit straighter. "Thanks for stopping by," he says warmly.

"Yeah, of course," you reply, gathering your things. "Did Dr. Min mention having you discharged any time soon?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing yet. Might be here for a couple more days."

You nod, feeling sympathy for his extended stay. "Well, take care of yourself, okay? Let me know if you need anything."

"I will," Taehyung assures you with a grateful smile. He watches as you make your way to the door, but just before you can twist the metal knob, he speaks up agian. "Uhm...if you have time tomorrow, I wouldn't mind if you came in again. It was nice to...chat."

For the first time, Taehyung seems to stumble over his words. As someone who's naturally charismatic, not to mention a skilled actor, there's a hint of nervousness in his voice.

When you turn your head to glance back at him, his smile has faded, replaced by a hopeful look, hands gently clutching the blankets.

"Sure," you agree to his innocent request, somehow unable to resist. "I'll try to stop in tomorrow if I can."

His boxy smile returns instantly as he bids you one final goodnight.

As you walk out of the room, that same smile lingers in your mind—you're glad you decided to come by.

In the days that follow, you find yourself at Taehyung's hospital bed every evening after work. Initially fulfilling his wishes, you gradually realize you've grown fond of his company. Taehyung turns out to be easy to talk to, a good listener who encourages questions you wouldn't normally ask within office walls. Here you are again, immersed in yet another spontaneous conversation that neither of you minds.

"So, what's it really like?" you inquire, curiosity lacing your voice. "Being an actor? And what about kissing strangers? I've heard some co-stars end up together after playing an onscreen couple for so long."

Taehyung chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Being an actor is both exhilarating and challenging," he begins, reflecting on his experiences. "Kissing scenes... well, they're not as glamorous as they seem on screen. There are a lot of technical aspects to consider, like camera angles and timing. As for getting involved with co-stars outside of filming, I wouldn't be familiar with that. I prefer to keep those lines pretty separate."

You listen intently, fascinated by his insights into a world so different from your own. But one thing sticks out to you—how does he handle kissing scenes if he were to be in a relationship? Wouldn't that get complicated?

"I often wonder what I'd do if I had a partner," Taehyung muses suddenly, his voice thoughtful, as if sensing your unspoken question. "About the kiss scenes, I mean. I haven't actually dated for a while." Really? You think, he cant be serious...

"I'd imagine they'd be understanding since it's part of the job," you offer, trying to match his contemplative tone.

"Is that how you'd respond?" Taehyung's question catches you off guard.

"Me?" you ask, feeling slightly dumbfounded.

"Yeah, I'm just curious. Would you be okay with that?"

"Uhm... well, honestly, probably not," you admit, feeling a bit awkward. "I think I'd have a hard time wrapping my mind around it. I'd kind of feel like I was sharing my partner. I don't want to share like that."

Shut up, shut up, shut up, you mentally chastise yourself. You definitely said too much.

To your surprise, Taehyung merely gives a small smile in response. "I think I'd feel the same," he says softly.

The subject ends there, as the conversation soon shifts to his latest project instead—a romantic comedy series titled with a playful nod to a four-leaf clover.

"You know, I've never seen a four-leaf clover in my life," you admit with a slight chuckle.

Taehyung laughs softly, his eyes brightening. "Really? They're supposed to bring good luck, you know."

"Good luck, huh? I guess I've never had the pleasure," you replied with a grin.

"Well, then it's settled," he declared with a playful glint in his eyes. "I'll find one for you once I'm out of here," he promises warmly.

You smile, exchanging a silent moment before hitting him with your next question. "Do you watch your own shows or movies?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Taehyung's expression shifts subtly, his gaze momentarily distant. "Honestly, I don't," he admits, his tone tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "I guess I've always felt a bit awkward seeing myself on screen. It's strange, right?"

You reassure him with a smile. "It's not so far-fetched, but I don't think there's anything to be embarrassed about. You're talented, Taehyung. I'm sure your performances are amazing."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully but then quirks an eyebrow at you. "But have you actually seen any of my work? It's a little cheesy."

You hesitate, feeling a touch sheepish. "Honestly, no," you confess. "I've never watched any of your shows or movies. But I will!"

A flicker of déjà vu crosses Taehyung's face, his expression turning thoughtful. "That's funny," he murmurs. "I feel like I've heard those exact words before, recently."

You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood. He can't be referring to that night you spoke to him while he was asleep, right? "Maybe it's just a sign that I need to catch up on all the great acting I've been missing out on," you quip, hoping to diffuse any awkwardness.

Taehyung grins, his playful demeanor returning. "Well, I'll hold you to that. You'll have to give me your honest review."

"Deal," you agree with a nod. "So, as much as I hate to cut this short, I think I'm going to have to get going now."

"I understand, it's past 6:30 pm. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure thing," you reply warmly. "Get some rest."

By Thursday afternoon, you finally receive the long-awaited call from Dr. Min, informing you that Taehyung will be discharged the next morning. You're relieved that Taehyung is healthy enough to continue his recovery at home. Seeing him yesterday, he looked the best he's been since his accident. However, a small part of you feels annoyed that Dr. Min didn't call you—he called Namjoon instead.

It was an ordinary afternoon when your secretary's phone rang. Namjoon was crouched over at his desk, concentrating on a number of spreadsheets just moments before. You remember leaping over to him as soon as you heard the words, "he's ready for discharge tomorrow," leave his lips.

It's now Friday morning, and you're standing in front of your secretary's desk.

"So, you're off to pick up Taehyung now?" you ask, as casually as you can. You do your best to ignore the lingering irritation growing inside you.

"Yeah," your secretary finally replies, glancing up from his screen. "I'll drive over to the hospital in about half an hour."

"Okay." You nod, biting your tongue. So what if Namjoon gets to pick him up instead of you? It's fine, you should get over it.

It's just a little odd that Dr. Min chose to call Namjoon instead of you though. You know for a fact you've been much more involved with Taehyung's well-being than he has.

Of course, Taehyung and Namjoon are good friends, but your secretary has only gone to see him twice over the past week his buddy's been in the hospital. You've been there every day, so wouldn't it make sense that you be called first?

Evidently not.

Namjoon will be taking Taehyung home, and you likely won't be seeing him at all today. In fact, you're not even sure when you'll see him next. Technically, you have his address stored away in an HR file, but you're no creep. And you most certainly are not about to show up at his place unannounced.

It's not like Taehyung has texted you today either. Not even a quick update on his condition.

"Um..." Namjoon starts, shifting awkwardly in his chair. "Is there something else you wanted to say? I feel like you're kinda hovering over me now, to be quite honest."

"Oh, sorry," you respond, stepping back a bit. You didn't realize you were staring at him, wordless, for longer than normal. "Nothing else. Drive safe."

As if seeing right through you, Namjoon's expression softens. "If you want to see how Taehyung is, you can just text him. I'm sure he'll respond to you."

"No, it's okay," you quickly dismiss the suggestion. You don't want to bombard a man who's just getting out of the hospital with your texts. You'll leave him alone to rest.

Namjoon gives you a knowing look, eyeing your slightly hesitant state. "I'm serious, boss. Text him. You've been at his side this entire week, so if there's anyone who'd be more deserving of knowing what's up, it’d be you."

Deserving? That's a bit far, is it not? Yes, you've been visiting him, but it's not like you saved his life or anything. It's not that big of a deal. You just wanted to...make sure he was okay.

"I—When did you decide to call me boss again?" you switch subjects, but Namjoon remains unaffected.

"Text him," Namjoon says for the final time before reaching for his keys in his desk drawer. "I gotta get going, but I'll be back after I drop Tae off."

"Tae?" You haven't heard him called that before.

"Yeah, it's kinda a pet name. Sorry, I started calling him that once we became friends, so it slips out here and there. It's like second nature now."

"Got it," you nod, a bit disappointed. Maybe you weren't as close to Taehyung as you thought. "Make sure he gets home okay," you finish.

"I will." Namjoon gets up from his desk and heads out of the office. You turn around and return to your own office once he's out of sight.

While Namjoon is out, his phone rings incessantly. You find yourself getting up from your desk multiple times to take calls. By the afternoon, you're exhausted from the constant interruptions.

Maybe you should consider giving the poor man a raise.

Before the thought fully develops, his phone rings again. You don't even bother checking the caller ID anymore; you simply pick up the phone and answer in your sweetest voice.

"__? I thought I’d be hearing Namjoon first... hey," his voice is hesitant. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything."

"Jungkook," you reply cautiously, instantly recognizing his voice. "Why are you calling my work phone?"

"I... I didn't know how else to reach you. Can I come in or can you come into the parking lot? I have something to give you."

You pause, feeling a rush of unease. You haven’t spoken to Jungkook since last Friday when he called you out of the blue. Honestly, you hoped you wouldn’t hear from him, especially after telling him not to call again. It's strange that he keeps finding ways to show up unexpectedly.

"What is it you need to give me, Jungkook?" you ask bluntly, "I'm very busy."

There’s a brief silence on the other end before he answers, "It’s... It’s something personal. I’d rather not discuss it over the phone. Please, can you just come down for a moment?"

You weigh your options, torn between curiosity and apprehension. His unpredictability lately has left you unsure of what to expect. "Jungkook, I really don’t think—"

"Please," he interrupts, his voice sounding more urgent. "I promise it won’t take long."

Taking a deep breath, you decide to handle this with as much grace as you can muster. "Fine. I’ll be down in a minute."

You end the call and sit back, trying to steady your thoughts. His sudden request feels odd, and part of you worries about what he might say or do next. As you make your way to the parking lot, you mentally prepare yourself for another potentially difficult encounter.

When you arrive, Jungkook stands near his car, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His usual confident demeanor seems replaced by a sense of unease.

"Hey," he starts, his voice tentative, "thanks for agreeing to meet."

You give a brief nod, keeping your tone neutral. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

Jungkook shifts awkwardly, his gaze dropping momentarily before meeting yours. "I wanted to apologize," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry for calling you up drunk."

You feel a flicker of irritation. This is what he wanted to give you? An apology that's seven days late? You figured he would have just forgone the apology by now.

"Why now?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, a defense mechanism you've developed. "It's been a week. I’m not sure if you realize that or not though."

"I know," he says quickly, his eyes earnest. "I wanted to come sooner, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me or just never hear from me again."

You scoff slightly, "Well, for the first time, you are completely right. I don't want to see you, Jungkook." You try to keep your voice steady, but the raw edges of your emotions bleed through. There’s no point sugarcoating it at this stage; he’ll just keep pushing your boundaries if you don’t become firm with him.

He winces at your words, nodding slowly. "You have every right to feel that way. I messed up, big time. I just wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry. You deserve someone who isn't as screwed up as I am. But I still mean everything I said that night. I do love you. It took me until now to realize that, apparently."

You sigh, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Love? Now? After everything? Somehow, it feels more like a burden than anything.

"Jungkook, love isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card," you say slowly, your voice somewhat shaky. "It's not something you can just throw out there to fix things. Not only did you divorce me, but you also led me to believe we could actually be something. All those weeks of you being attentive and showing up for me after I shared my feelings made me believe that you were honestly trying to make our marriage work, that you were committed. You lied to me, discarded me, and now that I'm not around, you suddenly miss me? No, I'm sorry. You broke my trust, and that's not something you can just apologize away."

You pause, feeling the weight of your words settle in the tense air between you and Jungkook.

He looks down, nodding again. "I get it. I really do. And I don't expect you to forgive me or anything. I just wanted you to know that I understand how much I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I understand if you hate me."

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to stir inside. "Jungkook," you begin carefully, meeting his eyes. "What happened between us was painful. You calling me drunk last week was also painful. I'm sorry about the challenges you had with your parents, but it's no excuse to put that on others. If you need someone to discuss personal matters with, I suggest you see a professional."

You pause, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"I don't hate you, okay? I'm not that cold-hearted. There's still part of me that I think might always hold space for you, but I can't just forget everything. I need to move on, and that means you can't keep calling me at random times. It’s not fair to either of us. I appreciate the apology, but I don't think we can go much further."

He nods solemnly, understanding your stance. "Okay," Jungkook replies softly, his voice filled with a sadness you hadn’t expected. "I understand. I'll respect your wishes and leave you alone. Take care of yourself, okay? I...I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me," he says, his eyes earnest. "And... I'm really sorry for everything."

He begins to back away toward his car, and as he does, it hits you—it’s over.

"Take care, Jungkook," you say gently. "Don't overwork yourself, alright? Stay healthy."

He looks at you, forcing a smile. "You know I can't do that. It isn't in my blood." He sings the last part, referencing a song you both used to joke about, and you let out a small chuckle despite yourself.

"God, Jeon, I thought you'd stop with that song by now." you say, shaking your head.

"Nah," he replies, shaking his head with a faint grin as he opens his car door. "I'm taking it to my grave. I'll see you later, __."

You know the last part is a lie, an empty promise to soften the blow. Still, you respond, "Yeah, see you."

With that, you part ways in the parking lot, each going your separate ways. As you walk back to your office, the weight of the finality settles in. It's all over, you think, feeling the sting of a single tear trailing down your cheek. Unbeknownst to you, a similar tear streams down Jungkook's face as he drives away, each tear falling for completely different reasons.

Two weeks pass, and Jungkook keeps his word. He hasn’t called, texted, or shown up at your work. It’s as if he’s become a stranger, someone you once knew but is now part of a distant past.

Your days begin to regain a sense of normalcy. The emotional weight of the past few months slowly starts to lift, allowing you to refocus on your work and personal well-being. The company demands your attention, and you dive into projects, meetings, and strategies with a renewed energy.

Yet, despite the return to routine, there's a persistent sense of something missing. You haven’t talked to Taehyung at all since he got discharged from the hospital. You haven’t seen him either, and the silence pulls at you more each day.

Every time you try to get information about him from Namjoon, he gives you the same response: "Just text him. Don’t overthink it; he’ll be glad to hear from you." Once, you sensed that Namjoon wanted to say more but stopped himself short, making the excuse that it wasn’t for him to say. Whatever that meant.

You’re on your way home from running errands when the thought enters your mind for the umpteenth time: should you text Taehyung?

You’re torn between respecting his privacy and wanting to check in on him. He hasn’t reached out, so maybe he’s trying to distance himself or just needs time to recover alone, now that he’s in the comfort of his own home. On the other hand, you can’t shake the feeling that checking in would be the right thing to do.

As you approach your apartment building, you pull over into a quiet parking spot, letting your car idle. Gripping your phone, you take a deep breath and finally decide to text him.

You: Hey, Taehyung. I hope you’re doing well. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling. Let me know if you need anything. We still miss you at the office!

You stare at the message for a moment before hitting send. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you wait. What if he doesn’t respond? What if he doesn't want to hear from you?

You end up deleting the message entirely.

Forget it, you think, if he wanted to hear from you he would have texted by now, right? Just leave it alone. You said you'd support him while he was in the hospital and you did. Now he needs his space to finish healing. He'll reach out when he's ready.

Your phone buzzes the next minute, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glance at it, half hoping that Taehyung was secretly telepathic. But it isn’t from him. Instead, it’s a notification from a friend inviting you to a small get-together this coming weekend.

Smiling, you accept the invitation.

Turns out your friend's get-together was a singles mixer. Unsurprisingly, you weren't approached much, if at all. It seemed the men were either too nervous, still associating you with your ex-husband, or not quite into accomplished women. That didn't stop them from ogling you, though, as your friend insisted that you dress for the affair. You didn't choose anything flashy, but it was certainly flattering.

Leaving without a phone number didn't bother you, though. At thirty years old, most of the people were younger than you, including your friend who was a couple of years younger. Plus, you found your mind often wandering to the one man you hadn't heard from in nearly three weeks—Kim Taehyung. Should you stop overthinking and finally listen to Namjoon's suggestion? Maybe it's time to contact him.

Lost in thought on your drive home, you snap back to reality when you slam on the brakes at a sudden red light. Damn, you hadn't noticed it change so quickly. Shaking off any lingering daze, you refocus and spot a man crossing the street ahead, a little dog trotting beside him on a leash.

"Taehyung," you whisper to yourself. "What is he doing out here, especially on this slipper—shit!"

Your heart skips a beat as Taehyung stumbles on the ice, struggling to keep his balance. Concerned, you pull up to the side of the road as soon as the light turns green, parking quickly and jumping out of your car to rush over to him. He leans against a brick building, his dog, Tan, yelping at your approach. Cute little guy, but you're focus is on Taehyung.

"Damn," he mutters, trying to steady himself. His eyes widen when he catches sight of you. "__, I—" he begins.

"What are you doing, Kim Taehyung?" you scold gently. "Are you trying to hurt yourself again?"

Taehyung meets your gaze, his Gucci scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. "No," he replies earnestly. "I just needed some fresh air. It's been nearly three weeks since I was discharged, and Dr. Min said short walks with Tan are okay now. My parents were here for a while, but they left this weekend."

His explanation sinks in as you take in his appearance. Despite the chill in the air, he looks better than the last time you saw him. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the cold, and there's a determination in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"You should be more careful," you reply softly, stepping closer to him. Tan, sensing the shift in attention, continues to bark happily, tail wagging. "Are you okay? My car is right here, if you need me to take you home or anything."

Taehyung nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know, I know. Sorry for worrying you." He gestures to Tan, who is now circling around your legs in excitement. "Tan here doesn't seem to mind the ice at all, and surprisingly, he doesn't mind you either."

You chuckle softly, crouching down to pet the little dog. "Is he usually this friendly?"

"Not at first, no," Taehyung replies, his tone lighter now. He glances down at you, his eyes softening. "I'm glad I ran into you, though. It's been...a while."

You nod, standing to your feet. "It has. I'm glad to see you're doing better."

"I am," he affirms, his gaze steady on yours. "Thanks to you, mostly. You were there for me when I needed it the most."

"Oh, come on," you say, waving off the comment. "I didn't do that much."

Taehyung's smile widens, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You did more than you realize."

You feel a slight blush creeping up your cheeks at his words, but you maintain eye contact, appreciating the warmth in his gaze. The longer you stand there, staring at each other, the uneasier you feel. Perhaps you shouldn't ask the question that's been on your mind, but it slips out before you can stop it.

"Why didn't you call?" you ask, surprising both yourself and Taehyung as he simultaneously voices the exact same question.

Taken aback by the simultaneous question, you both chuckle nervously, breaking the tension. Taehyung scratches the back of his neck, sheepish.

"I thought about it every day," he admits, his voice quiet but sincere. "But I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me. I already took so much of your time, and I didn't want to ask more from you. So, I asked Namjoon to pick me up from the hospital. I thought maybe it would be better for me to wait for you to reach out and focus on recovering."

You nod, understanding flooding your expression. "I felt quite similar. I thought maybe you asked Namjoon because he's your friend. I didn't want to hound you when you just got released from the hospital, so I decided to let you recover in peace. I guess in the end, I was also waiting for you to reach out with an update of some kind."

Taehyung takes a few seconds to fully absorb your words before replying. "I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes reflecting genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I was avoiding you. I would have been more than happy with you picking me up instead of Namjoon. I realize that I should have at least reached out to update you instead of going silent. I'd like to think of you as my friend too. But I wasn’t sure if you felt the same, and I just didn't want to burden you." His gaze becomes downcast as he stares at the ground beneath him.

You're unsure where you find the courage, but you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, gently lifting his face so he meets your eyes. You have to stand on your tiptoes a bit, which he finds endearing.

"I’d like to consider you my friend too, and that means you shouldn't worry about burdening me anymore, Tae," you say softly, your touch lingering momentarily on his face, caught up in the moment. When you realize what you've done, you pull back slightly, flustered. "Um… sorry, I didn't mean to call you that."

"It's okay," he responds, his voice gentle. "I don't mind. You can call me Tae from now on if you'd like. Also, you're not a burden either, you never were to me."

You're speechless for a second before replying. "So, friends then?" you ask. "No more mixed signals and reaching out when we want?"

"I mean, I’d like that as long as you do too," he confirms with a warm smile, though his eyes say there's more that he's left unsaid. You don't notice, however.

"Text me whenever you have something on your mind," he continues.

"I will," you promise. “You too.”

"Definitely.” Taehyung pauses, glancing down at Tan who's decided to lay down by his feet. "So, I was going to take a walk with Tan at the park nearby. Any chance you'd like to join me?" His gaze shifts back to you, hopeful yet uncertain.

"I'd like that," you reply genuinely. "But we're taking my car over, so you don't break a hip on this ice, old man."

Taehyung's mouth gapes open as he shakes his head. "How many times do I need to tell you? I'm only two years older than you. Two!"

It's surreal.

How much you and Taehyung have started becoming friends, that is.

Almost two months have already passed, and it feels like just yesterday you were merely colleagues, you his boss.

Saturdays have become your day with Taehyung now. While part of you insists it's to prevent him from slipping on the ice again, deep down, you both know there's more to it now that he's almost fully recovered from his injuries.

Each weekend, you find yourselves exploring different parks and streets, swapping childhood stories, and sharing laughter over the dumbest things. Today, however, would be different. With rain threatening to drench the city, Taehyung suggested a change of plans—a cozy movie day indoors. Little did he know, you had a surprise in store for him.

You dash up to the front door, a bag of homemade food in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

Taehyung opens the door with a grin, holding his own umbrella. "Hey! Perfect timing," he chuckles, taking the umbrella from you and gesturing inside. "Come in. It's freezing out there today."

You step inside, shaking off the raindrops and removing your shoes. The warmth of his home envelopes you, a comforting contrast to the chilly rain outside.

"I brought something," you announce, holding up the bag. "Guess what it is?"

Taehyung looks at you curiously, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Hmm," he muses, pretending to ponder. "Knowing you, it's probably my favorite spicy chicken wings from that place near your office."

"Very close, Tae. Except these chicken wings were made by your favorite person in the whole world," you tease, handing him the bag with a grin.

Taehyung's eyes lit up as he takes the bag from you. "No way," he says, a mix of disbelief and excitement in his voice. "You made them yourself? You're the best, __. Seriously."

"It's the least I could do," you reply with a smile, following him into the living room where the TV flickers. "Besides, it's pouring out there. Movie day with good food seems like the perfect plan."

"Absolutely," he agrees, setting the food down on the coffee table. "I was thinking we could start with that new action flick I heard about."

"Aww, but I thought you said we could watch one of your movies instead?" you argue playfully, sinking into the couch. Tan bounds over, wagging his tail in excitement at the prospect of company. You scratch behind his ears while Taehyung sets up the movie.

"What? I don't remember saying that. Was I drunk that day?" he jokes.

"Well... maybe?" you tease back.

"I told you, __, I don't like watching my own films. It's weird, and half the time it's me kissing the female lead. You're going to need to watch those on your own time," he quips, his tone more serious than intended. The truth is, he really would rather not be there when you watch him kiss his co-stars.

"Alright, alright, getting aggressive over there," you chuckle, not seeing the faint rosy tint that's crept up on his cheeks. "We'll watch the action movie."

As the opening scenes roll, you can't help but steal glances at Taehyung. Despite the seriousness of his recent health issues, he seems more at ease today, a genuine smile gracing his face as he takes a seat beside you. It feels good to see him like this, relaxed and feeling more like himself.

Halfway through the movie, he nudges you gently. "Thanks for coming over today," he says softly, his gaze warm as it meets yours. "And for the food, of course."

"You don't have to thank me," you reply sincerely, nudging him back with a smile. "I'm happy to do it."

Unexpectedly, Taehyung reaches for the TV remote, pausing the scene playing in front of you. "Hey, __," he says, turning to face you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes as they shift from side to side.

"What is it, Tae?" You feel a slight unease, sensing tension. He's once again just staring into your eyes, wordless.

"Do you..." he starts but stops short, his voice trailing off.

"Yes?" You search his face for clues as to what he's trying to say.

"Would you want to go to a party with my family?" he finally asks, his words coming out in a rush. "My parents are hosting to celebrate my recovery, but really it's just an excuse to get the family together."

"So, a family reunion?" Your voice drops slightly, a mix of surprise and...disappointment? Why had you been expecting something different?

"I mean, yes, sort of. You don't have to if you don't want to," he adds quickly, almost anxiously. "I know it might be uncomfortable for you, but you've been here for me during so much of my recovery. It would mean a lot to have you there. My parents want to meet you too."

"Um... well, I've never been to a family function before," you admit hesitantly.

"You haven't?" Taehyung looks genuinely surprised.

You shake your head. "My family's never been one to do those types of things."

"Well, consider yourself part of my family then. Come with me, __. They'll love you."

"I-I don't know about that," you say softly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. "How can you be so sure that they'll like me?"

"Because I do," he urges gently, "and if I like you, so will they."

You're taken aback by his words, unsure how to respond. Surely he means this in a platonic way. Despite growing closer, you and Taehyung are just friends, setting aside any previous suspicions of romantic interest. Maybe if circumstances were different—if you weren't divorced—then maybe you could entertain the idea.

For now, you'll leave that side of him alone and simply be his friend. You feel a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

"Okay," you finally say, nodding your head. "I'll come. When is it?"

"They want to do it next weekend, weather permitting. We can carpool if you'd like, or you can take your own car," he offers.

"I'll think about it," you reply, trying to process the unexpected turn of events.

"Great." Taehyung flashes a boxy grin. "Thank you, I was so nervous to ask."

"Of course," you say, offering a tight-lipped smile. Taehyung unpauses the movie, and you return your attention to the TV screen. Minutes following your phone buzzes and a text message from Jimin appears on your screen.

Chim 🐥: __! Hate to be bringing this up, but have you seen the news about Jungkook? Looks like he's preparing to step down as CEO. Did you know about this?"

What? You had no clue.

a/n: If you are mad at me, well....I'm sorry but pls blame jk instead. But I am hoping you enjoyed! 🥰 vote jjk or kth

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

Tags:

@jksjx @lovingkoalaface @junecat18 @babystarcandyjk97 @wobblewobble822 @a-gayish-unicorn @neverthefirstchoice @whipwhoops @hubbytaehyung @jalexad @cassies-cookies @llallaaa @marshieeeemallow @baechugff @lovemazespluto @eegyo @iwanttobecalledaurora @harmonyflora @francheskarm34 @sftlrmin @saba-ya @11thenightwemet11 @yoursnixni @zafirowwa2909 @btsffreader92 @junniesoleilkth @iamcamlb @bangctans @lilliankoo @talyaaas-blog @blackswan18 @appleh4ad @hoseokteardrop @613tannies @whoa-jo @borahaeb1ch @getougf @chimmisbae @kookcobain @miniekookiegucci @purplelanterns @eegyo @inthemiddleofsomething22-blog @darkuni63 @bibimboppin19 @phanniefoo @chieftoadturkeynickel @existenciosa @dasommwa @minayas1998 @sumzysworld @pwd54gr54 @jellycake2109 @sigxx123 @00frenchfries00 @importantperfectionmiracle @stigma93 @lpgirl2324 @youremyjinearth @moonups-stuff @bubblyyz @hvnnibvni @ttanniett @secfir @urlovelily @iknowhistouch3 @nadzzzblog @itsmina29 @mochibites00 @syazzzlisa @ash07128 @kawennote09 @merrygo14 @butterymin @cybercheesygurl @juju-227592 @lesiacapouille

side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts au #bts imagines #bts fanfics #bts x reader #fic:guiltypleasures #kookslastbutton

580 notes · View notes

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 6 months ago

Text

Riding a Vaquero. || Alejandro Vargas

Rating: E Words: 2.4K~ Pairing: Alejandro x F!Reader CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. crack + smut, piv (protected), oral sex (m!receiving), throat fucking, cumming (f! and m!), swallowing cum, praise? ('that's it'), Spanish terms of endearment (nena, mamacita, vaquerita + caballito). other tags: crack, one night stand, dating app, flirting, roasting/mockery/slander of Alejandro. summary: You meet Alejandro on a dating app. Despite roasting the crap out of him he still lets you ride him :) a/n: Inspired by my "It's a Match!" fic... but very loosely and also it's so much fucking worse. + Thank you to @loveandplanet for helping me write this because I was struggling, my goodness.

Friday night. 5:30 PM.

You just got home from work and threw yourself on the couch before even making yourself dinner.

You're tired and bored and sort of... lonely.

The perfect cocktail of emotions to make you dip a toe back into the dark, cesspool of a lake that is the only dating app you keep on your phone: Tinder.

Slowly, you begin swiping away on the pictures of men on your screen.

Most of them are gym bros, there's a few nerds... You're pretty sure they're great, they seem it, you're sure they'd offer wonderful company and conversation over a quick meal...

But for the sake of what you're looking for, they might as well have a sign stamped on their face reading "[ Boring ]".

Boring. Boring. Boring.

That's when you see him.

Alejandro.

A handsome man, older, with crow's feet, and deep laugh lines, and a broad nose, and a bit of grey already creeping onto his beard... or maybe it's just the lighting? Either way, he looks... delicious.

So, you scroll down to read what his bio has to say.

A soldier, originally from Las Almas... 6ft tall... And a good cook... Looks like you've just caught yourself a two-in-one... A dinner and... if his bio is anything to go off of, a one night stand.

Although that bio...

You find yourself swiping right and in an instant, your phone displays a 'It's a Match!' screen, signalling that he liked you back.

You open your DM with him and carefully type a message:

you:

"Do you know your bio has a typo? You wrote horse twice."

His reply was surprisingly quick, almost like he was already in the DM screen as well, waiting for you to reply:

Alejandro:

"I know. I did it on purpose so people would DM me to correct me." "Pretty sure it increased the amount of women reaching out to me." "Women like you."

Cocking a brow, you can't help but scoff. Of course, he uses that typo as an ice-breaker!

No wonder he answered so quick! He was already anticipating you'd call his attention to his typo...

Sitting up on the couch again, you shift your weight and sit into a more focused position, leaning forward, before you type out an answer.

It has to be witty. It has to be funny. It has to catch him off guard...

...

you:

"That explains it." "And now that I got that out of the way..." "Is your forehead really that big or is it just the angle?"

You set your phone down on the coffee table in front of you and bite your lip, hoping that your comment wouldn't have pushed him too far...

A couple of new messages pop onto the left side of the screen in a row, causing you to lean forward to read them.

Alejandro:

"Excuse me?" "I bet you wouldn't say that to my face."

Trying not to giggle, you carefully grab the phone and type another reply:

you:

"More like say it to your forehead you mean?"

You wonder if you're going too far.

He's the first and only interesting guy you've found on Tinder today, the only one that you didn't deem boring upon one glance of their face and bio...

What are you even doing, making fun of him like this?

What if that just causes him to unmatch and block you?

What if-

Alejandro:

"I've never in my entire life been spoken to like this." "Other than when I was a boy pissing off my sisters." "And I hate to say that I sort of like it."

Your eyebrows raise and your eyes widen, feeling like you somehow just caught the biggest fish in the lake by blindly throwing in the lure and reeling it back out when you decided you should.

Sheer fucking luck.

you:

"I have more of those if you'd like." "Can keep going all night just making fun of you."

He paused again for a moment before replying with:

Alejandro:

"And you wouldn't run out of things to say?"

you:

"I'm sure I wouldn't."

Alejandro:

"And what would I have to give you in return for this to happen?"

you:

"Cook me dinner?"

Alejandro:

"Sounds like this was all a ploy to taste my food."

Taking a deep breath, you look around your room aimlessly, trying to hold back from saying the first thought that popped into your mind at reading that message...

But you can't help it.

And, hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

you:

"Maybe it's not just the food I'm planning on tasting."

Alejandro:

"Oh." "Maybe I'd like that."

you:

"Doesn't scare you?"

You almost patted yourself on the back for making a joke about his profile's stupid little 'if you think you're into something that scares me' line.

Alejandro:

"I'm an army colonel. Of course it doesn't scare me." "It just intrigues me." "You sure do look like you're starving. Who am I to deny you?"

Stifling a scoff and a bit of a groan, you reply with:

you:

"That line sounded straight out of a porno."

Alejandro:

"Haven't even cooked you dinner and you're beginning with the insults?" "You don't waste any time, huh?"

you:

"No and neither should you."

Alejandro:

"Then how about you let me cook you dinner right now?" "No stalling or wasting any more time."

Biting back a smirk, you shake your head in amusement.

you:

"Sounds good to me." "Address?"

"I was right, wasn't I, nena [babygirl]?" Alejandro asks as he looks down at you as you crouch before him in his kitchen.

You look up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, muffled sounds escaping your lips as you keep your mouth stuffed with his cock.

"That's right... You really were starving..." He cooed as he looked down at you, his voice carrying a pleasant growl and gravel to it.

Your head is pressed nicely against the cupboards of his kitchen, as he carefully prepares pico de gallo for the tacos he's making the two of you for dinner.

You hadn't expected to end up in this position so soon after driving up to his house, a small 1-store casita with wooden frames and details and a wonderful little tiled patio out back.

You had expected some flirting, some jokes, you roasting him...

Instead, you had somehow ended up pressed against the kitchen counter with his tongue deep in your mouth and his hand up your shirt, fondling one of your breasts...

And now, here you were, perched on your own heels, with his big cock slowly and repeatedly bruising the back of your throat as you moaned softly around it... While he cooks dinner for the both of you like nothing's happening.

It's almost infuriating, how calm he seems, how he looks down at you with those stunning brown eyes of his, and a smug little smirk on his lips...

And yet, he also looks absolutely breathtaking, standing there in a charcoal grey button-up, the first few buttons popped open to reveal a generous speckling of chest hair and a golden crucifix and a few other chains resting over his pecs…

And the way the sweat pools on his brow, and slips down the side of his robust neck, and disappears under his collar…

The light of the setting sun, warm and orange toned, filters through the windows and illuminates his small home, warming it, and reflecting off his sweat, and shining so bright on him.

It almost doesn't get better than this... letting him fuck your throat against the cupboard while he cooks you a meal which, by the scent, will be delicious, proving he wasn't lying about being a good cook...

Setting your hand on his hip, you tap your fingers on his lower back, gesturing him to go deeper into your mouth.

He picks up on the signal and thrusts harder into your mouth, causing you to choke and gurgle around his large shaft, some saliva slowly slipping down the length and disappearing in the generous bush of hair at the base.

"Mmmm, you like when I make you choke, huh?" He coos as he wipes one of his hands on a tea towel and then grips your hair, protecting your head from bouncing back on the hard wood of the cabinet.

Then, his other hand holds onto the edge of the counter, fingers curling and tightening around it, to keep him upright, before he starts thrusting more decisively into your mouth.

Your eyes roll in delight as he bullies his way deep into your mouth in a more consistent and violent pace, his own head falling back and allowing him to grunt and groan as your throat tightens and constricts around him.

"¡Ay carajo! [Ah, fuck!]" Alejandro groans as he pulls your head closer to his crotch, burying your nose in the coarse hair at the base of his cock, keeping the tip buried deep inside your mouth.

Sputtering and gurgling around him, your hands find a perch on his hip, on either side, but, rather than pulling him off, you hold onto him, close and against you, your nails digging into the muscles of his ass cheeks through the fabric of his jeans.

Your tongue laps up at the underside of his cock just as it begins to throb, Alejandro groans above you, leaning his head on the upper cabinets as he slowly floods your mouth with his tangy cum, which slowly slides down your throat as you make an effort to swallow around him.

With a long exhale, Alejandro licks his lips and looks down at you as he slowly pulls his softening cock from your mouth, letting you finally catch a proper breath too.

"Your mouth is very talented, mamacita." He compliments you, a smirk already forming on his lips again, his hand reaching down to help you wipe some drool off your chin.

"Thank you." You reply with a chuckle and push yourself up to your feet, side stepping him as he tucks himself back into his jeans and resumes making you dinner.

"So... What were you saying about having a lot more insults to tell me?" He quips and smirks at you.

"Well, first of all, I could still see your forehead from all the way down there,"

You break the kiss in favor of carefully rocking back and forth on his dick, buried balls deep within your slick cunt.

His large hands grip onto your hip and thighs to continue moving you atop him, making your clit grinding against his pubic hair in a way that made you squirm and whine.

His head is leaning back on the back of his couch as he watches you make yourself feel good, overstimulating your sensitive clit with the help of the coarse hair on his pelvis, and feeling the tip of his slightly curved cock rub against your g-spot.

"You like that, hm, vaquerita [little cowgirl]?" He coos at you, as your head dips back and you moan softly, before bouncing up on his cock for a moment and sinking all the way down, drawing louder groans out of you both.

It's a surprisingly slow fucking session, probably because of your bellies are full and warm with the recent meal, and you just sort of stumbled your way onto the couch afterward, for a make-out session that turned to slow, lazy sex.

Leaning against Alejandro in the low sunlight as the afternoon turns into evening and the sun sets through the window, you rock your hips against his again and again.

Your lips find his for what must be the 50th time tonight. Your tongues intertwine as you huff and moan into his mouth, his fingers digging your thighs as he squeezes you down and rubs you onto him, back and forth.

Breaking the kiss, you set your head down on his shoulder. It's almost too intimate for a first time, but it's strangely nice. His skin feels nice and warm against you, albeit a bit dewy with sweat.

Your eyes look up at him as he relaxes his head back and grunts softly, continuing to guide your hip back and forth on his, to seek out extra friction for you both, and murmuring incoherent Spanish curses and words of praise.

Slowly, you find yourself leaning forward and lick a stripe up his neck toward his stubble-speckled jawline, feeling the saltiness of his sweat on your tongue, as, even now, he's still producing more and more little droplets that slide tantalizingly slowly down his tan skin.

Then, you lick across the bottom of his jaw and around to the back of it, then, your head lowers and you lick another stripe up his neck. Alejandro reacts the same every single time, with a soft shudder and a grunt, throwing his hips up into yours.

"Oh you like that, huh, vaquero [cowboy]?" You tease him this time, using his own words against him.

The look Alejandro shoots you at that quip makes it clear he didn't appreciate your sarcasm... What a shame.

You lean back, your hands coming to rest on his thighs behind you, before you start bouncing in fervor. It drives a groan out of him, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

His left hand goes to your waist to steady you while he brings his other hand up to your lower stomach, pressing down onto it and allowing him to feel himself through your walls.

His thumb finds its way to your clit, rubbing it side to side, as you continue carefully and steadily bouncing off his lap, his own thighs having stiffened and raised to allow you and easier time.

The slaps of your ass and his thighs meeting echos throughout the living room, along with the sounds of your and Alejandro's moans.

It's a slow build-up, the both of you too lazy to actually put in too much effort into chasing your orgasm, but, steadily, and with Alejandro's thumb consistently rubbing against your clit, you find yourself reaching your peak.

Alejandro watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, leaning back against the couch and a stupid smirk painted on his lips, seeming so smug over the fact he got you to fall apart on his cock...

Only to watch you dismount from him and take a seat beside him on the couch, your body feeling too hot and tired to even remain in touch with any part of his.

His smirk vanishes and he cocks a brow, giving you a silent, judgmental look, as if asking 'What are you doing? Get back here.'.

And his face downright settles into a scowl when you mirror him by raising your own brow and ask him "You're a colonel, you've got this, right? You don't need my help.".

And, with an extra little impish smile you add, "Don't be scared, I believe in you, caballito [horsie]!"

for @lyralein , so you stop fucking bullying me because I "never write Alejandro" or whatever 🫶

#ikea writes 💚#cod x reader #cod fanfic #masterlist #call of duty #cod fandom #cod smut #smut #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas fanfic #los vaqueros

295 notes · View notes

hyuny-bunny · 6 months ago

Note

Hi Rose!

Can you do a fic where SKZ are in an interview and one of the questions for each of them is, "If you have a sister, whom would you want her to date?" And Minho vehemently objects to his metaphoric sister dating his friends, then notices Changbin looking all suspicious. Turns out Changbin has been chatting up Minho's cousin. Juicy, juicy.

Thank you! But please, please don't feel obligated if you're not comfy writing this, okay?

of course ! thank you so much for the request and i hope this does it justice :') i did tweak the details abit and kinda ran with it 😅. i hope not too much to disappoint. if you want something a little more spicy feel free to submit again and i can do a follow up pt 2☺️

i'll wait | C.B. ft minho

genre: fluff overload, friends to lovers, slow burn romance

content warning: cuteness overload, kissing, slightly upset minho, minho threatening to break changbin.

Minho had always been like an older brother to you. You weren't too far apart in age, you were glued to the hip at 3 and it's always been that way. Both sets of parents had to have a difficult talk with the two of you, explaining you weren't siblings. It didn't stop him referring to you as his sister and for you your brother.

Even during his time as a trainee, you were always there supporting. Whether it was dropping by the company building for a 15 minute break to have coffee and catch up, you'd always make time for him. When he was recruited by Chan to be a part of a group, you were ecstatic for him but your time together was cut down significantly when he went on to do the survival show.

After getting his big break to debut, he spent a lot of time out with his group doing street performances and advertising their group. You'd often join him with passing out flyers or just helping them record videos as they hadn't been supplied with staff just yet. You got more familiar with the rest of his group but you were always shy around them, not really knowing your place in how to interact with them.

Changbin and Jisung were the first ones you warmed up to. Han was always respectful but treated you like a friend, always making you feel comfortable around them. Changbin was much shyer with his approach. He found you pretty the moment Minho introduced you to all of them. He'd always crack jokes to you when you were around. Teasing your camera work when they were going back of their vlogs. It wasn't until one afternoon, you were supposed to be meeting Minho & Changbin for lunch, Minho had been running behind with his dance practice. This was the most nervous Changbin had felt in a long time, not even his performance review came close to he felt knowing he'd be alone with you until Minho would arrive.

All his worries washed away when he saw you sitting out on the terrace of that cafe. You were wearing a grey sweater with a black skirt. It was fall so the cold hadn't set it but he could see your legs shivering. Without thinking about it, he was already pulling his jacket off. He walked over to you seeing the way you beamed at him melted his heart.

"Here, for your legs." He extended the jacket out to you.

"Oh... it's fine, binnie," His heart skipped a beat at the nickname, "I'm not that cold! I don't want you getting cold either."

He cocked an eyebrow at you before laying the jacket over your lap himself, he didn't know where the confidence to do that came from. Your heart swooned at the gesture, your legs find a new found warmth from the heat that came from the worn jacket and the blood rushing in you. From that day on you had kept a close friendship to him, one Minho himself would've seen.

Much later down the line your friendship grew closer but never anything more. It wasn't until a few months before their new comeback, Changbin was stressing beyond belief. The pressure to have a big impact on the music charts this time around was getting to his head. He was practically calling you every night to talk. One night he couldn't take it anymore, he needed to see you. It was 2 in the morning, he was letting his legs were move and think for him.

He's standing at your door debating on whether or not to ring your bell, not a second is able to pass before you're already there opening the door. The next moment we're all a blur because once he's stepped into your apartment, his shoes kicked off, his lips are on yours. After a moment or so he stops, apologizing for not having asked for your permission but you're already pulling him back down to kiss him some more. After the night he swears off kissing, he wants to be able to date you properly. The other obstacle you face is your beloved cousin. You know the one who brought you two together, the one who doesn't know the details of your relationship with his group member.

From then, you both find time to sneak off for dates. Your dates mainly consist of eating dinner at his studio, or he's bringing you food to your place for a movie night. You're trying you best to make things work, away from prying eyes, deranged fans, and most importantly, from Minho.

The truth about the two of you comes spilling out suddenly and unexpectedly when SKZ is on a variety show. Their staff at this point had a vague idea of you relationship status to Binnie but it was unbeknownst to them that Minho did not know. Minho had invited you to come watch the variety show so you could all grab dinner afterwards. Things took a turn when the host was going around asking about the members siblings.

Lee Know candidly spoke about a cousin that was practically his sister, you could see Binnie glancing your way past the camera.

"Would any of you let your sisters date another member of the group?" The host asked.

Seung is the first to adamantly say 'no'. He's waving and shaking his head no in disgust, they're all laughing at his reaction but Minho soon joins in on him.

"Nope, never. Not happening, maybe when I'm dead." Minho deadpans looking across his members but his eyes land on Changbin who is dead staring at you.

He clocks it then. Minhos eyes are darting back and forth between you two. It takes Chan kicking the back of Changbins chair for him to snap out of his daze letting out a loud 'huh'. Minho's eyes are narrowed on him.

He knows something but he doesn't know for fact.

"Would you let your sister date any of the members?... Or better yet would you date any of the members sisters?" The host is laughing while repeating the question. Minho isn't laughing though.

Changbin flusters out a 'no' but his cheeks are a tint of pink now that he was caught staring you down. The filming wraps up and staff are asking the production to send them over the final product before they release it, just as an extra precaution. Minho says nothing when he brushes past you. He's pissed.

Shit maybe he does know.

You're standing out by your car waiting for Minho. It was supposed to be 4 of you. Jisung, Minho, Changbin, and you. You wave your goodbyes to rest of the members, finally seeing the three of them walking out together. You can tell Jisung is yapping about something based off the way he's moving his hands while talking. Changbin walks beside him head low and Minho walks on the opposite side of Han. He's staring you down all the way till he gets to you.

You're all standing outside the car but no one is moving.

"Do you have something to tell me?" Minho's never had such a cold tone with you, it makes you straighten up.

"I uh... We wanted to... I just..." You can't find the words but Changbin steps up.

"Take it out on me," He's stepped in between you two now. "We didn't know how to tell you, I asked to keep it quiet until the time came."

"And when was that time? Because I just had to find out in front an entire production crew and our staff. Was that your ideal time?" He's pissed but he's also hurt. Hurt that you would hide this from him.

"I'm sorry, Min. I am really. I was just scared that you wouldn't..."

"That I wouldn't what?" He snaps at you.

"You wouldn't approve of it."

beat

His eyes soften looking at you. He looks to Changbin.

"Do you love her?"

"I love her"

It was the first time you heard him say he loved you. It wasn't the way he imagined it going. Minho sighs looking at you again, he can tell it was your first time hearing this too.

"Okay.... If you so much as lay a hand on her or do anything to break her heart, i will break your fingers off one by one, and you'll never lift a weight again, got it?" Minho has a hand on his shoulder and a finger pointing in his face like a parent scolding a child.

Jisung has been stuck in same pose for the last 20 minutes with his jaw slack to the floor while clutching his hand over his heart. You're right there with him ever since you heard Changbin say 'I love her'.

Minho moves to open the car to put his bag in the back, unfortunately you're still frozen in place and haven't unlocked.

"You know the least you could do is feed me now?" He looks at you gesturing the car keys in hand. He grabs the keys from you to unlock the car now. He hugs you for a moment before patting changbin on the shoulder.

You look at Changbin who is matching the flush on your face. He kisses your forehead trying to bring you out of your state of shock.

" You know 'I love you, too' would've been nice to hear ," He laughs taking the keys and walking to the passenger side to usher you in "But I'll wait."

#changbin x reader #changbin fluff #changbin oneshot #changbin x you #changbin comfort #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz scenarios #skz x you #stray kids fanfic #changbin fanfic

228 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

Text

Life in the City 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: <3

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Clark drops you off right at the front doors. You’re early. Typically the bus would drop you off a block away about ten minutes later. At least you have your own office to hang out in.

You head into the office, your iced matcha latte condensating down your hand and wrist. You step off as you try to sop up the mess, distracted as you walk blindly to your cubicle. You stop at the empty desk and scoff at yourself. Your so forgetful sometimes.

You continue down to your office and let yourself in with the key. You shuffle inside and slip your bag off your arm onto your chair. You swipe several tissues from the box and fold it under the cup, setting it down carefully on top of the layers. You shake the moisture from your fingers and go to your chair, moving your bag onto the desk as you search inside for your phone.

“You need a coaster,” a deep timbre breaks the early lull.

You look up as Thor stands in the doorway, smirking as he watches you. You offer a sheepish smile as you put your phone down and fish out your rose gold pen. You place is by your keyboard and find your agenda to put with it.

“Huh, yeah, I could bring one from home,” you shrug.

“Mm, and what flavour is that? It’s rather... bright,” he muses as he breaks the threshold slowly.

“Oh, it’s matcha,” you back up as he comes closer, peering down over your monitors.

“Hm, I’ve never had it. Perhaps one day I might indulge,” he says, “a nice treat to start the day. I’d have guessed something sweeter. You know, the cafe downstairs, they have a cinnamon roll latte. Oh, yes,” he pats his stomach under his jacket, “dangerous.”

You offer a courteous laugh. You can’t help but be intimidated and slightly put off by his spontaneity. You didn’t expect him to just wander in. Nor can you keep him out; after all, he is your boss. He gave you this office.

“I’ve actually never been to the cafe. Bit steep,” you say, “I suppose I should get started.”

You roll the chair back and pivot it, lowering yourself slowly. He hovers as he is, turning to peer around the office. He sucks his teeth loudly and looks at his watch. As you peek up at him, he taps his fingers against his chin.

“This place is so dull. So boring. It does not inspire,” he puts his hands up, stretching out his long fingers, “I believe that atmosphere is everything. My whole vision for this company is innovation and you can’t be creative with... grey walls.”

You look between him and the walls. You didn’t choose the colour. You just took what you got.

“Come, I think we need to do some important purchasing,” he snaps his fingers. “Coasters, don’t want rings,” he points down, “and some art.” He turns and makes a frame with his index fingers thumbs, “mm, and maybe a pop of colour elsewhere. A vase. Flowers always do liven a place up.”

“Oh, well, I actually should...” your voice trails off. You should do what your boss tells you. “Sure, uh, I suppose I could push a few things.”

“Yes, well, fits in nicely, as you always do,” he says, “I did break my mouse... they make those things much too small.”

“Oh no,” you murmur, “let me just...” you grab your phone and put it back in your bag, a notification flashing back at you. Later. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to be running around.”

You step out from behind the desk in your platform oxfords. He looks you up and down, “ah, I did wonder if you had a growth spurt. Late bloomer or something.”

You can’t help but chuckle, “I wish.”

You go to walk around your desk and he points past you, “don’t forget your drink.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

You take the cup, most of the condensation has soaked into the tissue. You throw the sodden kleenex in the bin and turn to Thor. You give a bright but shaky smile. You knew today would be a lot but with him, it’s all so fast.

“Staples?” You wonder.

“Hm, sure, I suppose they have what we need.”

“Do you have an Apple computer? You could get one of their pads instead of a mouse,” you suggest.

“Mm, clever,” he remarks as he waves you ahead of him, “already showing innovation.”

“Well, it’s just a thought,” you say.

“That’s where the best ideas begin,” he follows you out into the hall. “Never underestimate the small things,” he comes up beside you and brushes his hand across your lower back before dropping his arm straight, “they do surprise us.”

🏙️

The tall shelves of the office depot tower over you. Most things do. You stop to admire the colourful gel pens, knowing they’re impractical, but still covetous of their glittery inserts.

Your phone vibes in your bag just as you check the time. An hour into your day and all you’ve done is wander the store. It hardly feels like a promotion, it’s aimless. You’re just going along for the ride. Quite literally.

‘Are you free tonight?’ The message expands at a tap.

At first, you assume it’s Melanie. Clark’s name stares back at you, followed in quick succession by a second messaged.

‘Wanted to start planning!’

You measure your response. You don’t have much going on but you’re already exhausted. The week is hardly midway and it’s been a whirlwind.

You type with your thumbs as you sidle along, ‘tomorrow? Don’t have much energy.’

You lower your phone as you hear your name. For such a big man, Thor can sneak right up on you. He’s only a few feet away as he struts up with a full basket. Wow. You smile and press your cell to your leg.

“You on the phone?” He asks as he approaches.

“Oh, no, just... just a message,” you hit the lock button and put your phone in your pocket. “Nothing important. Sorry.”

“Ah, don’t be. I get it. Boyfriend checking in?”

You nearly scoff. You just shake your head, “what did you find?” You point to the basket and he quickly refocuses, lifting it higher to sift through the contents.

“Coasters,” he fishes out a set of flower-shaped coasters and grins broadly, “I thought these were very you.”

“Oh?” You take them and admire them, “cute.”

“And I found this,” he pulls out another item, a long fluffy cloud looking piece of foam, “a wrist rest; ergonomical and all.”

“Right, ha,” you chuckle thinly, “yeah, I like it.” As you look at it, it seems like it will only be in the way.

“But then, you can’t have that without the mouse pad,” he plucks out another item, the same pale blue as the wrist pad.

“Did you get your mouse?” You ask.

“Mm, that’s where I require your input. I can’t quite decide,” he turns to lay out his options on the shelf, “I like the colour of this one but this one’s bigger and this one lights up.”

He’s almost like a child as he explains; there’s just too many good things to choose from. You feel that pain but you’re not used to being the adult. Besides, isn’t he the boss?

“Well, I would say whatever you think would be most comfortable. You said the old one was too small, right? And this one’s pretty hefty.” You point to the center one, “oh, and ergonomic, hey.”

“Mmm,” he hums thoughtfully, “wise. Yes, I do think I’ve made the right choice.”

He takes the center one and drops it into the basket before gathering the others.

“I’ll put these back then we can head back to the office. I almost forgot we have work to do,” he laughs.

You smile sheepishly and follow him. He takes his time putting away the accessories then you set out for the checkout. You’re nervous to start the real work. The hard-hitting stuff.

“I’ve some numbers to go over with you when we get back. We’ll get all this set up first and go from there,” he says as he stands parallel to you as you wait in queue.

“Oh, alright,” you cross your arms, “sounds good.”

🏙️

As promised, your day is more than just an impromptu shopping spree. You put the stack of coasters at the corner of the desk and lay out the new mousepad and wrist rest. Your space is looking a lot more brighter.

Your walls are even a little more colourful. As you review the files Thor sent you the day before, he hangs the modern art prints on the wall. You’re not entirely sure what the abstract shapes are supposed to be; maybe plants?

When he finally sits down, the anticipation has you wound tight. He brings a chair around to your side of the desk and looks over your shoulder. Of all the meetings you’ve had in your time there, everyone has their own device, their own screens. His proximity is overwhelming along with the endless rows of numbers and graphs.

“You’ll see here where Onyx Row was most successful. This should be where we focus. We’ve finally got all their data and so that will be your task,” he explains, “but it’s important to look into the low points too. It’s just as good to know what doesn’t work, eh?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He’s over explaining a bit. You’re an analyst. Your job is to look at it all. Maybe he doesn’t trust you just yet. After all, you are new. You don’t have the same experience as the rest of the team. It would explain why he’s spending so much time with you too.

“So, how are you? Need a coffee yet? Tea?” He shifts his tone. It’s off putting how quickly he can swing from one extreme to the other. “I think I might hit the cafe downstairs as I mentioned.”

“Really, I’m good,” you assure him, “that matcha’s got me jittering.”

“Mm, another day then. You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

“You’ve done so much already,” you smile, only then feeling how he grips the back of your chair, just behind your head.

“Any good leader knows they don’t lead by demanding, they make it possible for their needs to be met,” he stands, a little too close then slowly steps back. “You have my extension, you know where my office is.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod and grip your mouse tighter, “thank you.”

You turn your attention to the monitor and listen to him leave. You feel as if you might melt with impatience. You just want him gone so you can relax for one minute. The door shuts and you slump back with a huff.

You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. This is a lot of work. Sure, having your own office is great but at what cost? This is senior-level stuff and you’ve only just begun. You only got your diploma a year ago.

As nice as Thor is, he’s still your boss. He’s in charge. If you don’t meet his demands, it could ruin more than just your job here. It would cost you the only reference you have in the field.

You try to calm yourself down at the lines and numbers blur in your vision. You’re scaring yourself. Everyone else has been super awesome and you’re just being you. You sit up and a knock comes at the door. Oh, jeez.

“Come in?” You call.

The door opens and Thor peeks around.

“No coffee, but I couldn’t resist getting you something sweet,” he strolls in with a box in hand, “blueberry cinnamon scone.”

“Wow, oh, I’ll have to have it for lunch, thank you,” you accept it and set it by the coasters.

“For sure,” his grin beams down at you, “just some sustenance to keep you going.” He winks, “you’re in the big leagues now.”

“Sure am,” you agree breathily, “er, thanks again.”

“I’ll just get out of your way,” he raises his coffee cup just slightly, “I’ll be around.”

He leaves you again. You roll closer to the desk and plant your elbows. You hold your head as your eyes bore into the monitor. If you stare long enough into the abyss, it will stare back into you.

You finally get yourself going, falling into a rhythm as you click through the zipped folder. A lot of the information is poorly kept. You can assume a few reasons Onyx Row went under aside from their numbers.

The work is tedious and you find yourself going back and forth. The distant noise of the office can't touch you through your excel glazed trance. You're vaguely aware of a buzz and voices but your furrowed brow blocks the world out.

It isn't until a knock sounds and your name rips through your dry-eyed purgatory that you sit up straight enough to feel the crick in your neck. You reach to rub it as you squint at Thor. Back again?

“Thought I saw light in here,” he comments, “working late already?”

“Late?” You blink and look at the corner of your screen. Holy cow, it's six! “Uh… yeah.”

“I'm… actually glad you're still here, there was something I wanted to touch on sooner than later. Urgent, actually.” He pauses to check his expensive watch, “unless I'm keeping you from something? Someone?”

“No, just the bus,” you save the files and exit out.

“Hm, well, it is quite the conversation, maybe we might talk over dinner? It is late and you're probably too tired to cook, eh?”

“I… that's… you don't have to–”

“I do have a reservation and they have a policy,” he clucks and taps his watch, “you know, I'm getting a bit of a reputation for eating alone too.”

You frown. You want to say know but how can you? Besides, he's offering you a meal, not like he's asking you to stay and finish sorting through a swamp of numbers.

“Well, if it's urgent,” you stand and grab your phone, “I guess we should talk sooner than later.”

“Wonderful,” he pats his stomach, “I forgot my lunch. I'm starving.”

#thor #clark kent #dark thor #dark!thor #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #thor x reader #fic #series #au #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #dc #dcu #superman #avengers

168 notes · View notes

gabessquishytum · 2 months ago

Note

Hi Gabe and welcome back 💖💖 I’ve got a particularly delicious ask for you hehe

So TJ-Dragonblade and Delta-Pavonis both wrote incredible fics on the concept of immortal gigolo to the supernatural, Hob Gadling, and Dream finding out about said occupation in modern day.

But what if Hob had the opportunity to service Dream in 1389? Then 1489, and 1589…you get the gist.

Maybe Hob is the token mortal at the agency who happens to become immortal because Dream just finds him so irresistible and he wants to fuck this mortal way past his normal lifespan. Or maybe Hob’s already met Death and gotten immortality another way from her, and now he’s heard all about Dream and is eager to please.

Maybe they both think at first this is just a nice arrangement, a good way to get a mindblowing orgasm once a century but oops, Hob’s caught feels! And Dream has too but he’ll be the last to admit that.

Anyways, how do you think their 1789 meeting REALLY went in this scenario? 😏😏😏

Hey beloved seiya!!! Thank you for this ask - I have been thinking about immortal gigolo Hob SO MUCH. My brain immediately went to 'Hob started the agency and is like the brothel madame and only very occasionally takes on special clients'. The idea of Hob as a somewhat morally grey person who takes in supernatural waifs and strays and kind of grooms them into the perfect escorts really tickles my brain. Of course when he sees Dream, Hob immediately calls dibs on him because he's so fucking pretty no one else is allowed to have him.

As for their 1789 meeting, I have so many thoughts about Hob getting dressed up beforehand. I mean it in the nicest possible way but he looks like such a tart at that meeting (in all fairness so does Dream) so I can't help but imagine all the other employees helping Hob get ready for his big date - he's got a selkie coiffuring his hair, a couple of ghouls helping him with his garters, a werewolf giving him a manicure. It's like cinderella getting ready for the ball. Hob books the private room for them to have their little tete a tete... and of course he doesn't forget to specify that he wants a bedroom.

How can Dream resist this particularly tasty morsel? Hob looks better than ever in 1789, he's really made a go of it in the business world... Dream may disapprove, but he appreciates the results. Add the fact that Hob is so eager for him, so clearly prepared and thrilled to be fucked by his mysterious stranger... well, Dream has an ego. He's only too happy to sprawl back against the mattress and allow Hob to suck him off - not once, but twice. His hair comes lose from his pretty ribbon and Hob doesn't look so different from 1389, long haired and dishevelled and grinning. Dream is about 30 seconds from taking him off to the dreaming forever. Why limit himself to once a century, when he could have this every night?

Alas, they are interrupted.

Instead of accusing Hob of being the Wandering Jew, Lady Constantine calls him the Devil's Whore. She's not exactly far off. Lucifer is a client of the agency, but Hob never serves them personally. In fact, Hob only serves Dream. But Dream doesn't need to know that. He believes that Hob spends his immortal days in the debauched company of many, many beings. Believing anything else would be admission of something special between them, and Dream can't allow that...

Not for another 250 years or so, anyway!

#seiya-starsniper #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw sex work #cw transactional sex

72 notes · View notes

bbnibini · 10 months ago

Text

You, Over the World (Solomon)

So, I wasn't satisfied with the “snow” entry in the 9days of Solomon challenge and always intended to write another fic in the challenge outside of the continuing narrative I was working on, but life had plans and I ran out of time so I dedicate this oneshot to its wonderful organiser @impish-ivy. I switched out “humanity” for “the world” in the repeating dialogues cause it sounded more dramatic lol but this should have been an entry for ‘humanity’. If the vibes are familiar, I was thinking a lot about Frieren while writing this. :))

“Would you choose the world over me?”

He mutters a yes over the verdant foliage, amongst the spring flowers that bloomed over melted snow. He says it again as he traced the petals with his fingers, his memories simmering in the past—your understanding eyes, smiling and unwavering, as if he were waiting for you to say something else.

He held his breath,

“Would you choose the world over me?”

…and he says yes again under the shade of an umbrella overlooking the horizon. He squints his eyes against the hot air blowing on his face. The unchanging view he once saw with you became unrecognisable. The sky was blue as always; the summer sun, hot and cruel as he buried his feet under the warm sand—he strained his ears to listen to your stories, but even a whisper of them had been lost in time—the weight of his choice carried away by the thrashing waves. The world over you. “The greater good”. The “logical” choice that even you understood that he had to make. He thinks this over and over until the cicadas had stopped crying, and the punishing heat of the sun hid itself away to welcome a cool, moonless sky.

With nothing but his thoughts to occupy him, he walks towards the ocean again. Aimlessly, almost dragging his feet, until he heard the currents, the salty air welcoming him as his feet touched the seawater. He hated everything about it, but he couldn't get you it off his mind–he should not even care anymore. He never cared. Everything that carried a piece of you is seafoam dissolving in the tides, and your memories were nothing but a ghost haunting him in the night.

“Would you choose the world over me?”

He was at a loss for words as he remembered the question again when a leaf fell on his face, waking him up from an unplanned nap. He was never the earliest riser. Mornings to him were nothing but extra hours of sleep, but he found himself there again despite the absence of…everything. The busy crowds haggling for bargains—cinnamon and nutmeg and the falling leaves. Your hands were on his face, slapping him gently on his cheeks to rouse him from his slumber. Your voice was admonishing yet sweet.

It's gone too, I suppose.

He thought to himself as he waited for a flea market in the forgotten park, with nothing but the dents on the pavement and fading paint telling him that it was actually there. Years ago, maybe. Relocated somewhere else. Why didn't he bother to know? He did remember a stall there that he frequented with you. A kind stranger told him they have a whole chain of restaurants now; sold to a big company after the original owner’s passing. The orange leaves crunched beneath him as he left to take another train, waiting for hours on the queue to be seated.

He ordered your favourite.

But it didn't taste anything like it.

The texture was off. Something was wrong with the taste. It was too hot and too cold at the same time. That couldn't be right, so he tried again and ordered his usual but it tasted even weirder: an amalgamation of textures and flavours that barely paid homage to its humble roots. And he wasn't even much of a gourmet.

He left, letting his eyes linger on the seated crowd: their blissful faces obviously enjoying their meal. He sighs.

“Would you choose the world over me?”

Everything was grey; the orange and yellows and reds were being buried in the cold drafts. He asks you to close the door, only to be reminded that Cocytus Hall was nothing but ruins now; earth and dust. Rotting foundations and leaking ceilings. Seen better days.

“Why have you chosen the world over me?”

He didn't know. What should he have answered you? The more time passed, the more it felt as if the hours had gotten slower and slower. His youthful face was a painful reminder of an eternity waiting for him. There was an aching that lingered in his chest that never went away. The view from outside was pure white. A light fog formed on the window as he breathed out and drew faces. He had many thoughts, but most were barely comprehensible, mangling into static noise. He stared into the distance.

It must be a beautiful day. It was warmer than a usual December, and the view from outside was breathtaking. Didn't he just make a breakthrough in his research? The Demon Prince and his butler are set to arrive in a day to honour his contributions…or something like that. He wasn't sure. It was a feat that his academic peers envied greatly, for he had yet again proven why he was called “The Wise”.

Never “The Heartful.” Not even discerning. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. There, he saw you.

“Cheer up, Solomon!”

A gloved hand that took his own. There was a question lingering in his mind as you walked through the thick snow.

“Would you let me choose the world over you?”

He couldn't remember your face. He had imagined the scenes in his head so many times, and it only worsened every cold winter he had to spend on his own.

But he had no choice.

Company was all but warm bodies that didn't seep into his soul. They laced fingers with him and whispered sweet words, but he was a phantom whose presence they couldn't even touch.

He was barely there or anywhere. See-through and paper-thin; deaf to kindness even in the face of sincerity. He remembered caring more, maybe a century ago, when he could still count the numbers of your fading presence with his fingers. But now…

…he saw you walking away again, so he pulled you back into his arms where you fit perfectly.

Where dreams were his only comfort. Where centuries and aeons felt like minutes ago, and the entire world that remained at your loss had any semblance of meaning. He held your face and pressed your lips on his, hoping all of what he couldn't say would reach you,

“I wish I didn't.”

…even if it's too late.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me solomon #obey me shall we date #om! shall we date #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #obey me fic

259 notes · View notes

runninriot · 5 months ago

Text

inspired by the song Solitude by Black Sabbath, written for @steddiesongfics june song fics

Memories I Have Remind Me Of You

wc: 1999 | rated: T | tags: modern au, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, marriage proposal, dealing with heartbreak and regrets, Steve needs a little push from a stranger to make it right, sad but with a happy ending

The girl is nice. She’s pretty. Big eyes, plush lips, a kind smile, dimples.

Fucking dimples.

Her hair’s long and curly, doesn’t remind Steve of anyone in particular.

It doesn’t.

He does not think about someone else when the warm colour of her brown irises makes him remember.

Steve tries to listen when she talks, tries to laugh when she giggles sweetly, tries not to jerk away when she brushes his hand in a flirty manner but it’s hard to focus when his mind isn’t where it should be.

Did she just ask him a question?

“You didn’t even listen, huh?”

Steve shakes his head, looks back up at her, tries for an apologetic smile but to his confusion, she doesn’t even seem mad at him for not paying attention.

No, it’s worse.

She’s got that empathic, knowing look in her eyes. Like she can see right through him.

You’re so easy to read, baby.

He was never good at pretending.

“I’m not boring you, am I.”

It’s not really a question. The girl knows she’s a good catch, knows she isn’t the problem – Steve is.

“No, uh. Sorry, I-“

Who is he even trying to fool? No excuse he’s trying to come up with would be good enough because if he looks how he feels, it must be written all over his face. No way to hide the obvious.

I can see it in your eyes, baby. Your eyes always tell the truth.

Steve should’ve known it was a bad idea the moment he saw her picture, noticed the similarities. She instantly reminded him of-

He shouldn’t have agreed to this date.

Not because he doesn’t like her, no. She’s perfect, really. Or she would be.

They matched on a dating app, texted a bit back an forth. She was fun to talk to, made him laugh. And when she asked him if he wanted to meet, he thought that maybe it would help. That maybe this was his sign to finally get his ass back out there. He’d been holed up at home for too long. Sulking, sad, depressed.

Life just hasn’t been the same ever since.

His favourite meal has lost its taste. His favourite songs all sound off-key. Going to his favourite bar just seems like a waste of time - Steve’s life has lost its light, making everything seem dark and grey and dull.

Nothing is right anymore because everything reminds him of Eddie.

And Steve himself is the one to blame for his misery.

“I-“ Steve hesitates. He doesn’t want to bother her with his mess, didn’t come here to whine about things he can’t change. She didn’t come here to listen to him talk about his goddamn ex for fuck’s sake!

“What’s wrong?” she asks and Steve knows there’s no point in trying to pretend that everything’s fine when nothing ever is. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry for being such bad company,” Steve apologises and means it. She deserves better, could’ve gone on a date with someone worth spending her time with.

Someone actually interested in... something. Anything. Whatever it is she’s looking for.

Steve’s not it, that much is clear.

He’s not ready to move on. Maybe he never will be. Because what he had was all he ever wanted, all he ever needed to be happy. Life was good, perfect, before he ruined it all. Let the love of his life slip away because he was too afraid of the what ifs. So he pushed and he fought and he hurt the one that would’ve given him everything.

Now, Steve is just an empty shell of the man he used to be. Because the day Eddie left, he took Steve’s heart and soul with him, left him empty and broken and sad.

So fucking sad.

“You remind me of my ex.” The words are out before he can swallow them back down.

“Oh,” she answers, expression neutral. “Bad break-up?”

Steve nods. He doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to think about the day his whole life fell apart but-

“It was my fault. He left me because I fucked it up.”

The truth still hurts, even after all those months.

“What did you do?”

Steve and Eddie had met through a mutual friend, Dustin. It wasn’t quite love at first sight but close to it.

They quickly became friends, started hanging out on weekends, then, soon, even during the week. Spending the evenings after work at each other’s places, cooking dinner together, watching movies, talking.

Steve had never felt so drawn to another person, had never felt so comfortable in someone else’s presence. Eddie was... he was funny, kind, loud and wild. He had all these big dreams about what he wanted to do with his life. Dreams that were so very different from the small-town life Steve had always resigned himself to. Eddie wanted to travel the country, sleep under the stars, wake up next to a lake, follow the wind to wherever it would take him.

He wanted to be free.

But he stayed.

Eddie stayed because when they shared their first kiss in a weak moment of alcohol-fuelled recklessness, they ignited a fire that became too big too fast, making it impossible to smother the flames before they turned into burning desire that took a hold of them both. Scorching its way into their hearts where it settled, warm and bright, making light in every dark corner of their being.

It was the second first kiss that sealed their fate – a sober, slow, and tentative kiss in the low light of the morning sun that wiped away any worries and doubts Steve had when he woke up in Eddie’s arms after a night spent giving into their unspoken feelings as they took each other apart, not thinking about the consequences.

Knowing what it was like to wake up next to each other made it impossible to go back to simply being friends, to stay apart, to not fall in love.

Eddie and Steve were meant to be.

Together, everything felt right.

Eddie willingly put his own dreams aside for Steve who knew he could never repay him for the sacrifices he made just to be with him, tried to thank him every day by showing and telling him how much he loved him. And things were good, perfect.

Until-

“I don’t understand,” she says quietly when Steve takes a moment to breathe away the ache in his heart and the tears threatening to spill, “that sounds like a dream come true. What happened?”

Steve smiles sadly, sighs.

“Yeah, felt like a dream, too. But the thing with dreams is that no matter how beautiful they are, inevitably you will wake up.”

And a beautiful dream it was. Life was full of love and laughter and happy moments spent together, until Eddie proposed and Steve said No and the world tumbled down.

Because it was in that moment – with Eddie down on one knee, the simple gold ring Steve knew had belonged to Eddie’s uncle held between his thumb and finger as an offer, a promise to be his forever – that Steve realised he couldn’t do this to him. He couldn’t marry Eddie and keep him trapped in a life he never wanted just because Steve was too scared of giving up the safety of his home for a life on the road with no destination ahead and an unforeseeable future.

Steve said no to set him free but even then Eddie kept fighting for him, fucking apologised for putting ‘so much pressure’ on Steve with his question which- was insane because Eddie had done nothing wrong, ever. He had never been anything but wonderful and considerate and perfect. Steve had been the one not willing to compromise, who inadvertently put Eddie in a cage of his own making.

So he pushed and he fought and he hurt Eddie in order to give him back his freedom, thinking, believing he was doing the right thing. It was only when Eddie packed his bags and left that Steve realised he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

The moment Eddie walked out the door without looking back, Steve knew he had lost everything.

“Where is he now?”

“Hm?”

“Eddie. Where did he go?”

“I, uh...” Steve shouldn’t know the answer to this but he does. Because Dustin told him. Tells him whenever he gets a call or another letter from Eddie, ignoring the fact that it tears Steve apart every time. Or maybe he does it on purpose, punishing Steve for hurting his friend. And Steve lets him, never complains, always holds back his tears until he’s back in his fortress of solitude, where he can drown in his pain and sorrow.

He deserves to suffer for what he did.

“He’s in Michigan.”

“Huh.” She cocks her head, smiles. “It’s been what, 5 months you said? Pretty sure he could’ve gotten a lot further by now.”

“What do you mean?”

“For someone who’s always wanted to travel the whole damn country, he didn’t make it that far.”

“Eddie never made plans on where he wanted to go. Maybe he found a nice place to stay for a while before he lets his heart take him somewhere else.”

“Staying conveniently close for no reason whatsoever. Got it,” she scoffs.

Steve looks at her with pleading eyes, needs her to stop giving him ideas, can’t allow himself to let hope bloom.

“He’s free to go wherever he wants.”

“Maybe what Eddie really wants is for you to tell him to come home.”

Her words hit him hard like a slap across the face, ringing loudly in his ears.

“What if- What if he doesn’t?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

-------

“You left me.”

It’s not meant as an accusation, sounds like one though. And Steve can see in the way Eddie furrows his brows and tightens his lips, that it wasn’t the right thing to say.

“You told me to.” Eddie’s answer is short but calm, not filled with anger like Steve expected.

“I wanted you to stay!”

He knows it isn’t fair because Steve did tell him to leave. What right does he have to want him back, to ask for forgiveness?

“I didn’t want you to leave but I was scared that you’d wake up one day and realise that being with me isn’t enough. That being in love isn’t worth giving up your dreams. You shouldn’t have to give up your dreams for me! I should’ve gone with you. I love you. I-”

Steve is crying, can’t stop shaking. He’s so angry at himself, feels so powerless and stupid. And Eddie just stands there and stares at him confused like he doesn’t know that Steve would do everything for a second chance.

Just when Steve is about to give up, turns to go because if he stays here any longer, he’ll fall to his knees and make an even bigger fool of himself than he already has, two strong arms wrap around him from behind, keeping him from walking away.

“Don’t go,” Eddie whispers into his hair, tightens his grip to emphasise his words. “Stay.”

It’s what Steve should’ve said all those months ago, when he said the opposite instead.

Slowly, Steve turns within the arms holding him until he’s facing Eddie again. Eddie, who is so close now, Steve could bring their lips together by only moving in another inch or two. Could kiss away the tears running down Eddie’s cheeks.

“I can’t live without you, Eddie.”

“Then let me be with you.”

Their third first kiss is an angry one, rough and desperate. Full of regrets they swallow from each other’s lips, drinking them up to make them go away. To make it better. To make it right.

“Marry me, Steve.”

The answer comes easy this time - one word, a promise.

Forever, never apart, wherever it'll take them.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #steddiesongfics #writing prompt

95 notes · View notes

winterscaptain · 5 months ago

Text

A Joyful Future Masterlist - Part I

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

updated: november 15th, 2021 total finished works: 166 works in progress: 23 planned works: 107

summary: canon-divergent, big family!au

currently working on absence part ii and the mean-it era

beta’d by @ssaic-jareau, without whom none of this would be possible

resources and links:

inspo blog + media folder

faq + cheat sheets

headcanon masterlist

to-write list

find upcoming fics here | join my tag list! | submit an idea!

please read faq and key before asking a question!

▶ episodes i’m planning to adapt for ajf ✸ smut - explicit sexual content (18+ only, minors dni) ✦ suggestive content - non-explicit suggestions of intimacy, drinking, etc. ☰ fem!reader (all other fics are gender neutral) ◎ graphic/edit ✂ director’s commentary ☎ podfic

Part I: Cicatrize

Ao3 Link

2007

Advocate Cicatrize ✂ | 3x01 "Doubt" - 3x11 "Birthright" Ambition Aaron Hotchner's Letter of Recommendation ◎

2008

▶ Working Title: Reflections | 3x05 "Seven Seconds" ▶ Working Title: Worser Instincts | 3x16 "Elephant's Memory" ▶ Working Title: Developments | 3x17 "In Heat" Dreaming ✦ Intellectual Guesswork | 3x19 "Tabula Rasa" Familiarity | Crossover: NCIS 5x19 "Judgement Day, Part II" Focused | 3x20 "Lo-Fi" - 4x01 "Mayhem" Constellations | 4x02 "The Angel Maker" Buffer Through and Through | 4x03 "Minimal Loss" ▶ Working Title: Milestone | 4x05 "Catching Out" Players Bedtime ▶ Working Title: Grounded | 4x07 "Memoriam" Pride | 4x08 "Masterpiece" Dead Man's Hand ☰ | 4x09 "52 Pickup" Unfair Midnight ✦

2009

At Risk Part I | 4x10 "Brothers at Arms" - 4x11 "Normal" At Risk Part II | 4x12 "Soul Mates" - 4x13 "Bloodline" A Kindness | 4x16 "Pleasure is My Business"

Part II: Fear Itself

Ao3 Link

2009

2010

Exceeding Expectations | 5x11 "Retaliation" Three's Company Sunburnt ▶ Working Title: TBD | 5x18 "The Fight" A Horrible First | 5x16 "Right of Passage" Unbecoming | 5x21 "Exit Wounds" ▶ Working Title: Blackout | 5x23-6x01 "Darkest Hour/Longest Night" An Opinion

Part III: Berry Hill

Ao3 Link

2010

A Real Hero | 6x09 "Devil's Night" Short Notice Berry Hill ▶ Working Title: Berry Hill (Aaron's Version) Two Inches Stowaway ✸

2011

No Help A Chance of Snow Waldosia | 6x18 "Lauren" - 6x24 "The Big Sea" Absence | 6x24 "The Big Sea" - 7x01 "It Takes a Village" Mean It ✸ ☰ | 7x01 "It Takes a Village" Mean It (SFW + Gender Neutral) ✦ | 7x01 "It Takes a Village" Firsts ✦ Impression Gossip: A Prelude ✦ ☰ Surreal About Time Second Best Obligated | 7x10 "There's No Place Like Home" Conspiracy The Pleasures of the Elder ✦ ☎ Not Complaining ✸ Mistletoe ✦ ✂ Bring It ✸

2012

Gifts & Notices Symptoms Hide

Masterlist Part II

Masterlist Part III

#a joyful future #ajf update #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #tali talks cm #winterscaptain

94 notes · View notes

mylevisdontfitanymore · 1 year ago

Note

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION: VOODOO WEIGHT GAIN. Anything that happens to the voodoo doll, happens to the person it's moulded after. You stuff the doll with more fluff, and the person's belly grows. You dunk the doll in beer or a glass of wine, it soaks into the fabric and the person gets wasted. You rub at the doll's privates, and you hear startled moaning from the other room. I don't know, I just saw the idea on DeviantArt and I think that it has a lot of potential..

*Note: I, the author of this silly, kinky, little Tumblr fic, am white. And because of the past association between white people saying “voodoo” and cruelty towards people of color, I will not be using the term “voodoo doll.” I know nothing good or bad was necessarily meant by your ask, grey-faced anon user 😊, but I just don’t want to use that! So I’m going to say magic doll 🤷🏻‍♂️*

I FUCKING LOVE THIS IDEA.

JESUS CHRIST.

I AM SO FUCKING HERE FOR THIS.

Immediately, immediately, when you sent this to me I had a whole fucking AU in my head. This idea gives rich-man-Rogers and house-husband-boy-toy-Bucky…

Warning for unbeta'd stucky belly kink. Mostly rapid and magical weight gain, some vague dubious concent vibes but not really, etc.

I am picturing the full fantasy.

Steve is rich as fuck and is the CEO of his successful company. Whatever that is, it’s not important. What is important is that Steve is older than Bucky and is taller and bigger than him, too. Bucky is younger and twinkier. He’s sweet and needy *cough* slutty *cough*. Steve has needs too, though. Needs that are a special kind and can’t be met by just anyone, so rather than sorting through the whole fucking mess that is dating and sparking a new romance… he turns to hire someone who he can take his needs out on. A sex worker.

Steve hires a sex worker.

Specifically, Steve hires Bucky, striking up an exclusive contract with him. He wants Bucky to live with him, he wants Bucky to be ready for use at any time he needs him, and he wants Bucky to - within his limits - give into all of Steve’s dirtiest fantasies.

One of these fantasies is having a boy at home who is at his every beck and call, and who is totally, completely spoiled. Not bratty, but spoiled.

And Steve wants the evidence of Bucky’s spoiling to be on full display. He wants his houseboy - his toy - to be soft. Pale skin completely bare. Waxed, not shaved. Skin lotioned extensively. Soft. Clothed in the finest silk and lace and the like. Manners perfect. Not all skin and bones, not all bulky muscle, but fat and padded as if he’s never had to work a day in his life and is instead doughy and excessive. Always sitting on his comfortable, cushy backside.

Yeah… 🫦

Steve has specific tastes.

But Steve also has more than enough money to acquire said specific tastes. He has so much money, in fact, that he can afford to commission a small, hand-sewn, delicate doll from one of Natasha’s highest-recommended contacts. Said contact is secretive, illusive, and extensively expensive, but she agrees to Steve’s wants immediately, claiming she has just the thing and he doesn’t need to keep explaining, so… Steve has no complaints.

Steve has no complaints whatsoever, reclining in his desk chair with his belt and slacks undone, dick out, at his heavy wooden desk in his private office at work, the top floor, his solid wood door locked, with his personal secretary blocking all of his calls. On his otherwise spotless desk, there are two things: one is his laptop, and the other is a pile of fiber fill stuffing. In one hand he’s holding that little magic doll. Meanwhile, Steve’s other hand is poised to pack some of that stuffing into the doll’s body. But Steve isn’t looking at the doll, nor at the pile of awaiting stuffing, he’s looking at his laptop. The thing that is so interesting on his laptop is Bucky.

In perfect, crystal-clear quality the security camera feed from his penthouse is sprawled across the big screen. The penthouse he’s sharing with his contracted boy toy.

Bucky.

He’s been watching Bucky wander around, cleaning (Steve would prefer if he didn’t, he really does want Bucky helpless and spoiled, but he knows the younger man would go stir crazy if he didn’t have something to do, so he allows it), just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And…

Now is good, right?

Yeah.

Now is good.

So, Steve pushes a big, thick wad of stuffing into the doll and watches, dick jerking, as Bucky’s silence is interrupted by a cacophony of noise - all at once, his boy toy’s sweatpants rip to shreds and his toy lets out a sound that’s half-whimper, half-moan. He’s totally startled by the sudden woomph of his ass tripling, maybe even quadrupling, in size. Bucky is so blatantly confused that he ends up stumbling forward, nearly falling over but catching himself barely. With the flurry of movement, his ass jiggles.

Oh, Lord, Steve groans.

Big and fat.

Perfectly fat.

Bucky’s ass is unreal. It was before, firm and round, but now it is impossibly unreal. There’s no texture of dimpling cellulite and no striped stretch marks over the delicious surface of Bucky’s suddenly exposed ass. It’s perfect. Untouched. Unmarred. Only fat.

Bucky looks, well, Steve has started gnawing on his lower lip without realizing it, drawing blood already, so, it’s easy to say that he looks edible. Such a big ass on the most perfect, good-est boy. And Bucky is such a good boy that when he recovers, whimpering, after a brief, pornographic moment of groping himself, squeezing handfuls of fat where it’s mounding up behind him and twisting sharply around to try and investigate what has happened to his body, he just… goes on.

He keeps cleaning.

Steve is floored.

Oh, this is going to be so, so much more fun than he thought.

Bucky keeps cleaning as if nothing happened.

The only difference is now, Bucky is trying to stifle his precious little whines and he keeps sucking in sharp breaths like he’s embarrassed to let it show that he likes his shiny, new thick ass despite, to his knowledge, being completely alone. Unobserved.

Steve makes a whine of his own, a bitten-off, growling whine, but a whine nevertheless, when Bucky pauses cleaning to arch his back like he’s testing out how it might feel to get fucked with such a fat ass - like having such a big, heavy ass makes him feel sexy and he can’t help it. Immediately, Steve wants to make it better. He wants to make it worse. 😈 He wants to stuff as much stuffing as he can fit into the little doll’s chest to pack Bucky’s tits full of soft, malleable fat. If his boy likes how it feels to have fat, thick curves in the “right” places, then he’s going to give it to him. And then he’s going to ruin it by adding fat to the “wrong” places, too. He’s going to fatten him up. He’s going to make him huge with no effort at all.

Maybe he shouldn’t just give Bucky a taste of what it’s like to be curvy and sexy in a traditionally feminine way, all ass and tits, maybe he should pack him full of stuffing right this second, and see what he does, see how he preens and arches his back and touches himself, see how he spends his day alone, unknowing that Steve is peeping in on him, watching him get off to excess. Despite the dangerous pull... Steve doesn’t. Steve has self-control. Sometimes.

So. He lets it drag on…

He lets Bucky enjoy his fat ass for close to an hour. He simply watches, drooling and passively jerking off, as Bucky waddles around the penthouse, his ass wobbling and jiggling as he walks. His footsteps are much heavier than normal under the weight of his monstrous ass.

Bucky has removed his ruined sweatpants, but he hasn’t taken off his shirt. It should look silly. It doesn’t. It’s sexy as hell. Steve’s going to make him tear his way out of that shirt, too. He’s going to watch it be ripped to shreds. 😮‍💨

With another wave of lust, Steve decides he’s done waiting and he launches into action. He stuffs the doll again, focusing on a new, irresistible part of Bucky’s body that he wants to make even more irresistible by swelling him.

And instantly, with the doll stuffed, Bucky balloons.

His thighs, this time, widen with another sudden whoomph of magic.

His now colossal thighs match his ass delightfully. Thick and perfect. Doughy blubber that has to weigh too much for Steve to lift, despite his extensive gym routine.

Bucky moans outright this time. He’s less confused, too. He just accepts it. This is him now. The perfect, moldable toy. Adaptive and dumb.

Perfect.

He takes to the new fat packed onto his frame like a fish takes to water. Although… he’s nowhere near as physically graceful as that metaphor, Steve is talking purely about how Bucky reacts emotionally to seeing himself swell like a mound of dough left in the oven to proof overnight. Expanding. Bucky can hardly seem to walk now. His lower half is so puffy, so swollen that he’s waddling. Swaggering. Wobbling. All that fat moves captivatingly, jiggling in slow, swollen waves like the ocean after an intense storm. And because Bucky can’t walk anymore, Bucky plops down onto the nearby sofa. So heavy and overgrown that Steve’s expensive, expensive couch lets out a loud creak. Bucky swears, sounding panicked, but not too panicked to get up again and not too panicked to not start touching himself again.

His hands first make contact with his fat ass, squeezing inches of padding between his thumb and fingers at the sides of his body where his ass spills out away his hip flexors.

Steve feels a little faint. He feels more faint when Bucky scoots his thighs apart, setting them wider with a heavy, bothered sigh - they’re not only so fat that he can’t walk, they’re so fat that it’s hard to move.

Christ.

Bucky and this little doll are the best things that Steve has ever paid for. He swears. Then, Bucky moans, drawing his attention back to him and away from his money, the needy, little big minx.

Steve wants to give Bucky everything.

Steve takes the biggest ball of stuffing this far and packs it into the doll’s belly until its seams creak.

The force of the sudden fat being added to Bucky’s poor frame is so intense, whoomph, that Bucky is thrown back against the sofa. His head is thrown back too, eyes rolling to the back of his head, neck arched attractively, mouth hanging open, sweat appearing on his skin all at once. His skin. Oh, God, Steve growls to himself, he’s so fucking delighted that he’s recording all of this footage because he’s going to spend the rest of his life sneaking away into whatever nearby bathroom or closest or bedroom or wherever he can to replay the way Bucky’s shirt bursts off him, getting off to it.

The sound of the seams ripping, popping, and fabric shredding mixing orgasmically with Bucky’s cry of pleasure. Filled more than he could’ve ever dreamed of. Made so impossibly round that he’s stuck to the creaking, overburdened couch.

His gut fills all of the space in front of him.

The surface is taut like a drum and as round as a globe. Totally unmarred. No stretch marks, no bruises, not even the flush of skin struggling to contain so much blubber. He looks incredible. Mouth-watering. Pale. Fat. He’s rising like dough. And there’s only one thing left to do…

Steve stuffs his tits too, watching the way Bucky squirms, the way he writhes on the expensive, luxury couch as if he’s orgasming on the spot. So filled that he can’t take it anymore. He can’t hold anything in. He can’t keep himself from screaming. He can’t stop himself from coming. A blimp. A fat, excessive blimp sitting on top of a monstrous, thick ass and immense thighs with a belly that stretches out past his fat knees, so big and round that it shoves equally over-fattened tits up to his face, leaving him choking on them. He is overripe. Moaning with abandon, lost in the throws of pleasure from being so thoroughly gorged.

Swollen.

Filled.

(Here's part two)

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #weight gain #rapid weight gain #magic weight gain #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #chubby bucky #fat bucky

155 notes · View notes

onyourhyuck · 2 years ago

Text

White Night. | J.JH

— Prologue: “He treats me well.” + “Good for you.” - “But he’s not you.”

— Summary: You’re in a relationship with Jungwoo, it’s healthy and sweet. It’s a relationship you’ve been dreaming about for a while. But it’s not your failed relationship Jung Jaehyun.

— Genre: Romance Smut, minors dni. Mention of Cheating (y/n is wrong for this) heavy kissing, hairpulling, giving head (f receiving), handcuffs are involved later on, fast and slow stimulation purposely. A lot of begging involved. Mentions of breeding. Y/n is a big red flag tbh. I don’t support cheating (this is only for fic purposes) dirty talk and lots of degrading going on.

— Notes: Was listening to White Night by Nct127 writing this…

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You were conflicted with your own body and feelings when you are standing outside your ex boyfriend’s apartment awfully late at night wondering why you are coming to the doorstep you aren’t supposed to. Somehow this whole forbidden sensation and time of space has been making you want to do it more, having your boyfriend not know what you are doing behind his back and this whole situation just makes your skin crawl with goosebumps. The past memories of this place makes it feel like a foreign place but you know deep down this place used to be your home. It used to be a place where you felt like you belonged with the one you loved.

But now it’s just a grey painted canvas in front of you looking like the home you never knew about. It was crazy how things can change in over a year. You wonder if Jaehyun changed or did he stay the same. You’re wondering if he was okay and if he still used the same cologne, if he still ate the same food he used to eat with you, if he still works at the same workplace at that company. There were thoughts like this running in and out of your head one by one.

The courage to knock on the door was very dim you could barely touch up on it. The very small part of your consciousness was holding you back telling you to stop and retreat back, yet the ninety percent of your body was practically ready to knock on it; you were desperate to see Jaehyun. You were longing for him day and night. It’s awful that you can’t stop thinking back on him. When you were single it was so easy to move and stop worrying about Jaehyun, he didn’t cross your mind once when you were single. But suddenly when you are in a relationship — in a loving and healthy relationship with a lovely boy your mind has been betraying you.

It is a horrible thing. You never want to do this. You don’t even approve of cheating but here you are knocking on someone’s door that you used to date for about three years. Now someone is going to get hurt in the middle because of you and your selfish decisions. You always make these wrong doings and somehow you never learn from them. As your hand caress on the door banging on it twice it would take a few minutes until you heard footsteps from the opposite door unlocking it. When the door swung open revealing a young man around six foot wearing a plain white tee shirt that fit his muscular build quite well and the glasses fitting the bridge.

The soft silky blonde locks were pushed back by his hands running through it to brush it out. Jaehyun stares at you with a dazed expression, equally as lost as yours, however the same lingering thoughts on you came up. How were you doing? What have you been up to? Do you still drink that tea he recommended to you? It was these questions that made his poor ole’ heart hurt and ache.

Jaehyun spoke out softly despite him questioning your real motives and wondering why so late you are knocking on his apartment door. “What are you doing here so late Y/n?”

It was such a small question but so hard to answer.

Your saliva sucks back into your throat. You weren’t expecting him to actually stay this calm and not tell you to get lost. He had every right to tell you to go away — afterall you broke up with him. You are the reason this situation has came to an extreme end like this. Jaehyun was a simple bystander to you. Your voice comes out small but enough to be heard. “I… don’t know i guess i wanted to see how you were doing.”

Your response was very clear. Jaehyun couldn’t read through it however. It’s as if one foot was on his side but your left foot was on the other side. He couldn’t tell the real answer and reality with different feet in very vast different ways to go. You can’t halfway ass this too. Jaehyun isn’t here for a giggle.

He stares you downwards. “You wanted to chat with me at three in the morning. That’s it?” He paused seeing you nod at his words. He looks back inside his apartment sully not understanding it. “Okay. How you been y/n?” Nevertheless he still asked how you were. He never once not asked you.

After all he still cares but this doesn’t give you an excuse to come out so late just for a little chat so unannounced.

You look at him couldn’t help but stare into his eyes so deeply that you could get lost in it for decades upon decades. “I’ve been well Jaehyun, you look like you’ve been fine too.” You add with a small smile.

Oh how Jaehyun wished that smile was something he can see every single day on his way to from and from his way to work. Your smile was heavenly enough for him to melt into a puddle. To hear you say you’re doing well was both a bittersweet feeling. He wants you to be happy. He is glad you are in fact happy. But he’s a bit more bitter that you’re not happy with him — it was a weird feeling.

And then his mind wonders off so far as much as his heart was further away from asking you something he had been yearning to hear you say. “And how’s… your boyfriend?” Jaehyun’s eyes fell down to the ground. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t of asked that.’ He thought deeply to himself.

The question brought you into a deep prance. You weren’t expecting Jaehyun to ask you about Jungwoo. Heck you weren’t even aware he knew but he does. Some part of you was hoping that perhaps he misses you just as much as you miss him.

“Oh… oh he’s good.” Your voice stops midway as you smile. “He treats me well.” You say to Jaehyun as your thumbs fiddle with each other nervously perking up to watching Jaehyun.

He gives you a smile full of irony. “Good for you.”

“But he’s not you.” You shut him up instantly with your words crash landing on him like he was a railway forward crushing underneath the weigh of your feet. The way his eyes widen as round as globe made you think you were never going to regret this even if this was the worse horrible decision you could ever do to another human being — you were tired of pretending you don’t miss Jaehyun. You were done with this act. You made a mistake letting someone like him go. Jaehyun pushed forward as you launch yourself to him kissing Jaehyun deeply.

For once again you were reconnected with a kiss you were dreaming every night, every night brought a depressing memory that was a happy one in the present and now it became a reality to you where you’re making out with your ex boyfriend. Jaehyun wanted to let you go and tell you to stop, that this is wrong because you’re with someone else, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to make you stop. You were a gem in his life he was missing just as much. You’re irreplaceable. Every little touch to your fingertip on his skin crawling up like as if spiders were roaming on the body. You give him goosebumps, adrenaline, fear and love. You give him everything he could ever ask for.

Your tongues brush together in a manner like you were drawing on a canvas together finally painting a new chapter together. Your mouths close and open up wide letting enough access between you to sensually kiss as your bodies were twirling in and round each other like a red ribbon to tie a knot. Your knot. Our knot. Jaehyun lifts your body up high pushing you down onto the bed where you lay flat there with your thighs open wide straddling his bottom half on the body. The white sweatpants he wore were soft but not as soft as his baby-like skin. It was a cold complexion but his emotions were a burning rage of ember.

It was unbelievably hot to be underneath Jaehyun watching the plain tee shirt slip and slide off his body just like with ease as if it were nothing but made up of air. Now to your body his hands were growing everywhere on you beginning to explore you once more even though he remembers every detail about you he couldn’t possibly forget you. If he tried it wasn’t possible for him and if he didn’t try he would wallow in your empty presence but now that you’re back it was like a little thing reborn to him. This night was going to be long and he’s going to make it right for you that you will never get enough.

Your mouths shift away for a breather but as your eyes were closed and your clothes were off on the ground scattering somewhere in his dark black bedroom you let out a murmur of pleasant sighs holding out your arms to grab his neck as he was burying his face deep down between your chests fondling them and kissing every little space and inch. Your nipples were sensitive to his kisses which always made him smile deep inside . He loves seeing them go hard with an instant second. It proves how much of an effect he has on you, just as much as you have on him between his legs growing hard just for you.

He could hear you gasp when he lifts your hips up as his body manoeuvres out to the nightstand opening the bottom drawer just to get a pair of silver metallic handcuffs. Your eyes glimpse at the item with pupils growing larger as if you were filled with a new excitement. ‘This was new’,, you thought. Your voice trails over to the handcuffs when Jaehyun reaches to your wrists you obedient gave and not fought back. “What’s with the handcuffs? This is new.” Your wrists stay in the air up to the frame attaching to the bed.

Jaehyun looks down at you from above lifting your chin up with the edge of his thumb putting it under your face. He whispers so sweetly but it was a dangerous kind of sweet gesture. As if he was going to give you the best night of your life ever given. “Oh just a little something i picked up on after you left… i knew they would come handy in the future.” Your ears perk up at the flirting signal on his eyes resting so coolly with his eyebrows. “Oh… that’s kinda hot.” You whisper as your eyes fell down to his lips kissing him deeply once again.

“Oh yeah? There will be plenty of more stuff to come baby don’t you worry.” He whispers in between the kisses taking breaks before fully he pulls away just to hover above your aching pussy pleading for some hand or any kind of pressure to it. Jaehyun was about to give you that right away you’ve been wanting so badly. His mouth reattached to your entrance giving it a plentiful boost amount of sucking and licking; it started off with kitten licks only to open wide and completely devour you from inside and out like you were a stuffy toy.

Your urge to release and come in that moment was so close but you didn’t want it to end just yet. Jaehyun was making it very hard not to finish so quickly you never had this much of a good feeling. You missed it. It brought back so many memories from the past you share with Jaehyun it’s just something you couldn’t get with Jungwoo. Sure he wasn’t bad in bed either but he hardly goes down on you. Unlike Jaehyun he was a master at going down on you with so much knowledge he could learn over the three years being with you. He not only knows your weakness spots where he could pleasure you easily but he knows your emotional weaknesses too. He knows what to whisper into your ear when he makes love with you. He knows you.

Your hips stutter back with each synching mount movement on the man eating you out like he must’ve been starved forever it was unbelievable how fast he would go in and not stop for so long. Not until you come as hard as you can and when you did release your mouth aches wide moaning out at the highest top of your lungs. “Jaehyun… I’m!”

He wanted to tell you he knows you are. He knows that you are at your limits because he could feel you and now he can taste you once again which he never wants to stop. Jaehyun looks up at your rosey cheeks and the warm heated smile you shown as you readjust on the bed. He lifts himself up and pulls your hair down pressing your head flat on the pillows to lay down there roughly. Suddenly his hips click into you and now a stretching yearning pull out on your body makes you jolt in surprise. The way his cock made you feel so much more overwhelmed than before was amazing you weren’t even aware of it until Jaehyun let’s you rest on his thick and girthy cock leaving your velvet walls take him in.

He wasn’t going to let this end however and he didn’t care if he was absolutely going to edge himself just to have a longer night with you. Jaehyun was deep down afraid of you leaving again after this. He didn’t want this to end he wanted it to last forever and only forever. The loneliness you left on his heart after you broke up with him was the biggest pain he has ever experienced and he’s not the type to cry over a lover before until it was you who held the gun to him with your words saying goodbye. If you’re leaving again he won’t know what to do but at least he can spent a loving night with you under him that he can remember you for. You were wanting to beg him underneath to move but something in your heart and head tells you that Jaehyun won’t do as you say.

You whisper tugging on the handcuff restraints forgetting you were tied up. You couldn’t reach him. “Jaehyun can you move?” Your insides were clenching for every bit pressure and friction they can get. You were needing a release. Jaehyun however only smirks down at you leaning down with a glint of evil behind those loving romantic eyes. “Beg for me if you really want it.” Jaehyun shot at you.

“Tell me you want me and not Jungwoo. Tell me you wanted me inside you all this time and not Jungwoo. Tell me how much you missed me.” His voice lowers down. “Tell me you regret breaking up with me.”

He shot at you like he was a wicked gun wanting to take you down. Jaehyun had a literal hold on you physically and spiritually you can see and hear his words having a good toll on you that you weren’t sa aware he did have. For anything you would do for him. Everything and anything even if it made you feel so pathetic. You weren’t ever so humiliated as you are now but something about being forced into submission by your ex boyfriend unaware that your boyfriend was sleeping peacefully and you were getting your brains fucked out by Jaehyun made you feel ashamed and humiliated.

You gasp when Jaehyun’s hands caress your bare throat before grabbing it tightly letting you feel a strong impact yet enough for you to be able to breathe. “I- I want you only you. I regret leaving you. Please fuck me already… I missed you so much.”

There was a sense of achievement inside Jaehyun he has been able to do and that is having you underneath him looking so sensually fucked out begging to be rail in on his bed even though you have a perfected fitted boyfriend you still wanted him. Jaehyun felt a massive ego boost and this was enough for him to take pleasure in looking back on. To see you crying and begging like this? It made him satisfied to say the least. And he obliged just as you gave in. His cock purse inside you like a weapon ready to go with every thrust there was a surprising turn to how your stomach curls up deep within taking every strong impactful force action — it made you want to twist and turn as your insides were railing against your ex boyfriend’s cock burying deep within you just makes this seem more natural.

It has only made you realise how much you missed this. You missed Jaehyun’s touch, kisses, love and words, the purest affection and how he treats you in bed like you’re a complete whore for him. You are just for him whatever he wants you to be. But just as much as he was to you, you couldn’t live with this regret of ever leaving behind your own family. Jaehyun loves seeing your lewd expressions go with every single bump going in you. He was ready for your walls to milk him dry just as much as he was ready to fill you up. His feral thoughts have left a trace of unfiltered words. Words he didn’t have the courage to say to you but now that he was so far lost inside you deep but going deeper now too.

“Look at yourself Y/n. You love going to your ex boyfriend’s doorstep and getting fucked on his bed? You love being slut out by me right? This is exactly what you wanted isn’t it.” You wanted to say yes to everything because it’s true. He read you as if you were a blank book.

Jaehyun exhales. “Fucking hell Y/n. You’re still as hot as before. But now you’re dirtier. How did you get so fucking lewd?” The way your ears loved hearing him talk down on you as he was something else. You couldn’t help but fall a little bit closer than before to climax. “If you’re going to cum then do it now. It’s what you’re good at.” He slurs on his last ends.

Your body couldn’t handle much more of that and just as he ends his words your body came crashing down and releasing a streak of water down below climaxing on his cock. Jaehyun sighs desperately seeing you releasing right there and then it only aroused him more to his finish soon. His gaze staring down at your legs trembling as you were shaken up by your gigantic orgasms he wasn’t going to stop now and practically lets his hands grab your thighs folding them up and starts ramming in to you at an inhuman speed you couldn’t ever imagine.

The metallic handcuffs rattle against the bed frame so much because Jaehyun was going in and out of you quickly you could tell by his messy pace he was nearing close and then after you. Your body was cramped and folded like a freaking ball just rammed in with pleasure overflowing with you and your wrists attached up becoming red and hurting now that he was dragging you down into the bedsheets so hard.

His voice was multitude of pants you couldn’t ignore. “I’m going to fill you up with my load so when you come back to Jungwoo he can have something to think about.” Your eyes clench shut imagining the scene already only to push Jaehyun to the limit where he finally released inside you.

The warmth levitating from his come inside you so deep made you jolt and softly smile at the thought of relieving himself in you. Jaehyun took a few moments to readjust and pull out slowly letting the liquid ooze out in a slow motion he would watch it slow before slanting next to your body dropping there and letting the handcuffs full off your wrists.

He spoke out against the bedsheets as he was watching you. “Leave him Y/n.”

Your gaze turns to Jaehyun.

“Please. Come back to me.” He asked you this time in a gentle tone completely different from what you saw earlier when he was on top of you ramming. You shift coming forward rolling on the side bringing his face in your hands pulling the man forward.

As you did your lips connect in a soft romantic kiss coming with a soft ending. It felt like time has stopped once again with you on his lips.

You hum pulling out. “Okay. Let’s spend the White Night together what do you say then?” Jaehyun couldn’t agree more to that idea.

NCT SMUT FICS.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu!! Please reblog and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out.

402 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 1 month ago

Note

lord steph the 3st! my highness!

may thee bestow upon us a pamphlet of works that ney a soul hath asked for thus far?

*kisses your hand*

LOVELY YOU'RE PERFECT. I genuinely didn't have anything ready for this weekend, and this ask is great so I can copy-paste one of my other lists 💜🖤

Check out today's list; it's a continuation of another list that I posted earlier this year that had too many fics on it so I had to pull this section out to make a part 2. If anyone has a fic to add, please do! Enjoy!!!

INTROSPECTION / CHARACTER STUDIES Pt 2 (MFLs / WiPs)

See also: Introspection / Character Studies

MARKED FOR LATER

Know Him Better by methylviolet10b (T, 450 w., 1 Ch. || ACD Holmes || 221B Ficlets, Introspection) – Holmes and Watson each reflect on how the other is viewed.

Hyperballad by PlantsAreNeat (G, 893 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Feels, Drugs, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock has bought cocaine after his doubts and fears about his and John's new relationship prey on his mind. Not exactly a danger night, but not not one either.

i can hear it in your voice while you're speaking (you can't be treated) by highfunctioningsociopath (M, 2,500 w., 1 Ch., Post T6T, Depression, Hurt/No Comfort, Pining Sherlock, Relapsing / Drug Addiction, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Missing Scene, Introspection, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms) – The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, after all. It just so happens to be lined with self-destruction. Part 1 of the wires series

lionheart by dreamweavernyx (G, 4,851 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Character Study, Friendship) – Some days, Molly finds her eyes straying to that drawer in her desk, the one holding a slim piece of wood and the memories of a life she's left behind.

wires Series by highfunctioningsociopath (M, 5,000+ w. across 2 works || Series WiP || Post T6T / TLD, Angst, Hurt / No Comfort, Loneliness, Mind Palace, Survivor Guilt, Mental Health Issues, Drug Addiction / Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Sherlock POV, Missing Scenes, Introspection, Psychological Trauma, Abusive Relationships, Grey Mary, Withdrawal, Depression, Self-Esteem Issues) – The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, after all. It just so happens to be lined with self-destruction. (stories currently in series completed)

The Gun Drawer (Ch10) by CarmillaCarmine (M, 5,985 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Five Stages of Grief, Suicidal John, Angst, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Introspection) – A dive into John’s chaotic mind as he reminisces on the first 18 months after Sherlock’s fall. Part 10 of the The Memoirs of Dr. John H. Watson series

Breathe by LoloLolly (T, 8,517 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fix-It, Grief, Angst, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Mary is Not Nice, Feelings Realization, Character Study, Blood Mention, Vomit Mention) – In which Sherlock's death is announced a bit... prematurely in HLV. Things spiral from there.

50 Ways to Feed Your Lover Series by bbcatemysoul (M, 10,509+ w. across 4 works || Series WiP || S3 Divergence / Non Compliance, Light Dom/Sub, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Time, Angst, Introspection, Fluff, Masturbation, Developing Relationship, Feeding Kink, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort) – Sherlock discovers that he deeply appreciates the lengths John will go to in order to keep him fed. (stories currently in series completed)

A Midnight Clear by khorazir (T, 13,120 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas-Carol Inspired || Post S3/Post-TLD / TFP Doesn't Exist, Christmas, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Magical Realism) – It’s Christmas Eve, and Sherlock is working. Because that’s what he does. He doesn’t need Christmas, or holiday cheer, or even company. He’s fine on his own, thank you very much – until a series of strange encounters on his way back to Baker Street makes him reconsider.

Just Sherlock by Ranowa (T, 13,720 w., 1 Ch. || Post TFP, Big Brother Mycroft, Protective Mycroft, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Character Study, Repressed Memories, Implied Mystrade) – Post-TFP, John and Mycroft have a much-needed discussion about a struggling Sherlock.

I Heard You Series by Gregorovitch (T, 22,313 w. across 6 works || Unseen Moments, Introspection, Alternating POV, Canon Compliant, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Declarations of Love, Conversations, Angst, Grief/Mourning) – All those times when Sherlock and John could have found each other in various episodes...

Nothing Gold Series by Raina_at (E, 27,901+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP || Friends to Lovers, Grief, Mentions of PTSD, Introspection, Domestic Fluff, Blow Job, Relationship Discussions, Developing Relationship, Bisexuality) – What do you do when you can't go back? Do you hold on? Or do you let go? (stories currently in series completed)

Red Number Day by PipMer (M, 39,325 w., 7 Ch. || Magical Realism AU || Friends to Lovers, Light Humour, Minor Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sow Burn, Angst, Light Fluff, Character Study, First Kiss/Time) – In a world where everybody has a set deathday, Sherlock Holmes is the only person who can see them. As with most talents, it's both a blessing and a curse. Because Death is a fixed point. Indelible, unchangeable, inevitable. It can't be altered, cheated or delayed.

A Thing With Peas by khorazir (M, 39,357 w., 3 Ch. || Post-S3/Post-TLD/TFP Doesn't Exist, Fluff and Angst, Communication, Demisexual Sherlock, Asexuality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Idiots in Love, Friends to Lovers, Developing Relationship, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Parentlock, First Kiss) – Sherlock does the laundry. John cooks a thing with peas. They talk. Finally.

Mind the Gap by orphan_account (E, 45,089 w., 6 Ch. || Victor Trevor, Dubious Consent, POV First Person Sherlock, Character Development, Friendship, Pining Sherlock, Fluff, Introspection, Parent Death, Vulnerable Sherlock, Doctor John, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Child Abuse, Implied Sexual Abuse, Domestic Abuse) – An introspective journey through the life and relationships of Sherlock Holmes. "I can hear the bones hum beneath pale and freckled skin, this sack that holds my form together. Bits and pieces that start at the bottom and end at the top, hiding the blood, muscle, fat. Cells, knit together, constantly in motion. They'll live and die, and replicate, until total equilibrium is met."

All These Things That I've Done by Ewebie (E, 55,913 w., 15 Ch. || Pre-ASiP, John-Centric, Angst, John’s Past, Doctor John, Soldier John, Jolto, Deaths, John’s Injury, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Character Study/Meta Fic) – How Everything is always John Watson's fault. A study of John Watson's life before Sherlock Holmes.

The Cold Song Series by Eldritchhorrors (E, 72,586+ w. across 7 works || Series WiP || BDSM Themes, Psychological Drama, Music/Violin, Romance, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Anal, Character Studies) – This is how broken people fall in love...

noise complaint by simplyclockwork (E, 85,324 w., 28 Ch. || Younger Characters AU / Alternate First Meeting || Uncertain Sherlock, Strangers to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Night Clubs, Case Fic, Fluff, Humour, Past Substance Abuse, Gay Club, Mild Angst, Introspection, Family Issues, Meddling Mycroft Controlling Mycroft, Bed Sharing, Family Angst, Acceptance, Falling in Love, Queerness, Community) – One loud upstairs neighbour and three days of non-stop party music lead Sherlock to an unexpected meeting.

The Good Morrow Series by greywash (E, 216,513 +w. across 5 works || Series WiP || Post-TRF Divergence, Horny John, Smut, Feelings, Negotiations, Christmas/Advent, Sherlock is a Mess, Relationships, Addiction Issues, PTSD, Therapy, Injury, Aging, Loneliness, Marriage, Family, Friendship, POV Second Person, Travel, Character Studies, Imagined Sex, Love, Multiple Pairings) – A post-S2 series where everyone has a lot of feels about everything and plausibility is stretched unto breaking. Also: fucking. (stories currently in series completed)

NUTRISCO ET EXTINGUO by Zoffoli (M, 327,772 w., 53 Ch. || Alternating Second Person POV, Post-TRF, Character Study, Romance, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Humour, Mystery) – "You haven't said what you wanted to say." Well yes, some things take you by surprise, and you're not quite prepared for them. Like when your best friend jumps off a building in front of you.

WORKS IN PROGRESS

You're more than what happened to you (Over teatime) by writing5ever (T, 4,377+ w., 4/5 Ch. || WiP || Character Study, Tea, Developing Relationship, Asexual Sherlock, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Drug Use, Four and One) – Four Times John and Sherlock talk about feelings over tea. And One time where they don't have to. - OR - a character study on Sherlock Holmes done through a plotless storyline.

A Piece of Eight Series by by KtwoNtwo (T, 30,562+ w. across 5 works || Series WiP || One Piece Space AU || Character Study, Space Pirates) – Mankind has spread out through the galaxy on ships with solar sails and jump drives. Here be tales about a particular sector of the galaxy where the Commonwealth of New Britannia is adjacent to a gravitational anomaly commonly referred to as the Red Line. Avast all ye spacers, batten down the hatches and prepare for interesting weather; its a space AU crossover between One Piece and Sherlock.

The Edge of the Sea by weeesi (E, 46,455+ w., 14/? Ch. || WiP || Pre/Post-TRF, POV John, Angst, Complicated Relationships, Pining John, Jealous John, Victor Trevor, Grief/Mourning, John's Trust Issues, Closeted John, Character Study, Panic Attacks) – Sherlock is dead. The next week passes in a blur. Mycroft invites John not to come to the funeral if he’d like, except for the fact that Mrs Hudson needs an escort and he’d really rather get through it than wonder forever what it would have been. He goes, and sits, and contains, and pours a cup of scalding-hot coffee down his throat which he hopes will burn down the tumble of nerves and anger and the type of sick-sadness he can’t examine too closely and the other feelings he won’t even acknowledge. He misses not missing him all the same. John spends the next two years alone. Sherlock doesn't.

Shatter Me by Loveismyrevolution (E, 183,191+ w., 22/26 Ch. || WiP || Sherlock Dances, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst with Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Introspection, Mutual Pining, UST, Idiots in Love, Big Brother Mycroft, Implied Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions) – This is a story about two men trying to find their way back into the comfort of their companionship. No easy task in the aftermath of the events of Reichenbach, a wedding and a shot through the heart. They are facing a very rocky road ahead with a lot of introspection, misunderstandings, angst and pining. They each try to cope in their own particular way. Eventually, they'll find a way to communicate and learn about the true nature of their feelings.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #character study fics #introspection fics #my fic recs #fics to read

27 notes · View notes

ange1sang · 8 months ago

Text

downpour.

mickey x ian (gallavich) fic

wc: 2.5k / au where gallavich meet at college but everything else is the same / pining, mentions of past abuse/domestic violence, domestic, fluff, hurt/comfort, bipolar ian

summary: mickey has always known love and care to be tainted with violence. living with ian, he learns how to take care of someone without hurting anyone else.

The TV glows in the dark of the living room, illuminating the walls with fuzzy grey and blue light that flits back and forth as the scenes of an old drama rerun change. Mickey is only half watching, a half-full mug of flat Red Bull in front of him on the coffee table and a half-finished theology paper on his laptop beside it. The cursor in the word document blinks at him rhythmically, an impatient 'what are you waiting for?' repeating itself over and over while he tries to convince himself he isn't procrastinating, just waiting for his brain to clear out the bleary remnants of the morning's hangover.

He wouldn't be so distracted if he wasn't alone in the apartment, but the clock is steadily ticking further away from 'late night' territory and closer to 'early morning' and there's no sign of his redhead roommate to keep him company with the quiet sound of tossing back and forth in his bed or the less quiet sound of putting on the kettle to make instant ramen. Mickey's been at college for a while now, but the year at college has done nothing to dull the ringing a silent home leaves in his ears. He's used to siblings running down corridors, banging every corner with a limb or two on the way, fights breaking out, yelling from next door or across the street while the train tracks rattle overhead, struggling to drown out any voices that don't belong to it.

That's why he'd thought renting an apartment with the kid from his Human Struggles class would be a good idea - he had too short a fuse to make it any more time in the dorms without breaking a dozen more noses than the two he had managed in his first semester, and having a place to himself made him more anxious than he was willing to admit. Just viewing apartments by himself had spooked him, every creak and squeak the house made around him putting him on edge like a horse with cataracts. Ian had seemed like the perfect solution.

As far as Mickey is aware, Ian Gallagher comes from a big family just like his, and while it seems that Mickey won the competition for whose upbringing had been the most troubling, Ian carried more baggage than anybody else he'd met so far at college. In a selfish sort of way, it comforts Mickey that there's somebody around who can understand even half of what he went through back home.

It doesn't bother him that Ian can be spacey or sleepy, or that his mood still swings sometimes despite the complicated combination of pills he takes morning and night. Their schedules fit well with each other's, they proofread each other's assignments (always finding more mistakes than expected, and always quietly correcting them without telling the other), they chase each other around the cramped apartment waving dirty socks in each other's faces and fall asleep on the couch together so they can bicker over who fell asleep first the next morning. It's a healthy balance between the quiet Mickey has been looking for and the chaos he thrives on.

What Mickey does mind is the topsy-turvy schedule Ian has been running on lately, disappearing at odd hours and showing up days later looking deflated, like a grimy happy birthday balloon shoved in the trash next to empty beer cans and drug store receipts. When they'd first moved in together months ago, Mickey wouldn't have paid any mind to gaps in Ian's schedule or the expression he wore when coming in the front door. He wasn't sporting any black eyes or gunshot wounds, so as far as Mickey was concerned he didn't have to ask if he was okay. But now, blinking at his half-assed paper on the necessity of human suffering for God's existence, he realises he isn't waiting for a hangover to clear, nor is he procrastinating. He's waiting for Ian to come home.

"Fuck's sake," he mumbles, pushing himself up off the couch and pacing over to the kitchen window. Careful not to topple the embarrassingly full ashtray on the window sill, he pushes the window open and grabs the pack of L&M blues sitting on top of the microwave (Ian's choice of nicotine, not his) and lights it with a purple lighter painted black with cheap nail polish (his sister's old lighter, not his). As the cigarette smoke clouds the corner of the apartment they've dedicated to their weekly chainsmoking sessions, Mickey looks out of the window to see that it's raining hard, bullet-like raindrops painted orange by the flickering street lamps. He feels a tug in his chest and tries to pretend he isn't picturing Ian's ginger hair soaked through and sticking to his forehead. He presses the heel of his palm to his forehead and sighs. "Fuck."

The clock continues to tick while the rain pours, as reliable as the twinge of anxiety Mickey feels each time he finishes a cigarette and his flatmate still hasn't come home. He's barely resisting the urge to pick up his phone and call Ian's work number, shoving his free hand deeper and deeper into his trouser pocket to remind himself that he isn't his flatmate's boyfriend, let alone his keeper, when the sound of a key struggling to find its way into the front door lock breaks him out of his anxiety.

He curses under his breath and throws his cigarette into the sink, almost tripping over his own feet as he makes his way to the door. He keeps his face straight as he turns the lock, trying to convince himself he wasn't rushing, and breathes a sigh of relief when he's met with the sight of Ian standing in the doorway.

Ian's red hair looks closer to black from how wet it is, rainwater running in little rivulets down his forehead and dripping from the tip of his red nose. His eyes are red-rimmed, his hoodie soaked through and sticking to his skin. He looks more like a block of ice than a person, and even in the warmth of the apartment building he's shaking like a leaf in a storm.

"Shit, man," Mickey mumbles. A landslide of questions are on the tip of his tongue, from where to why to are you okay to what the fuck, but he bites his cheek and swallows them all. He puts a hand on Ian's frigid shoulder and pulls him inside, paying no mind to the trail of water his sneakers track into the house. "Come on."

They trudge through the living room, ignoring the tacky sex scene on the TV and going straight for the bathroom, where Ian perches himself on the edge of the bathtub. He sniffles, and the meek sound echoes in the tiled room like a firework going off the day after New Year's. Mickey reaches out and gingerly pushes a lock of dripping hair away from Ian's forehead. He's reminded of all of the times his siblings wandered through the front door in far worse shape and how he left them to take care of themselves while he blared burned CDs in his room. For a reason he can't name though, the thought of leaving Ian alone to lick his own wounds makes his stomach turn, so he gives his shoulder a squeeze and doesn't complain when it makes his palm wet.

"One second, okay?" he murmurs, and leaves the bathroom to gather a dry change of clothes from Ian's wardrobe. He pauses for a moment to look around his flatmate's room once he has the clothes gathered in his arms. He's only seen the inside of it a handful of times, usually when bringing Ian coffee or meds to help him get through any bumps in his highs and lows, but those times he hadn't paid attention to much other than the redhead himself. Now he takes notice of the posters Ian has put up over the past few months, worn paper that has been folded dozens of times along the same lines, and the stack of CDs that they don't have a player for. Each of them has a title written on it in blue Sharpie, some of them in Ian's handwriting and some of them not. Mickey traces a fingertip over a star drawn onto one of the cases, distracted, before remembering Ian is still sopping wet in the bathroom.

In the bathroom Ian's shivers have turned into full body shudders, teeth chattering even with his jaw clenched, the joint tense beneath his freckled skin. Mickey sighs and sets the pile of clothes aside, fumbling as he picks up Ian's towel.

"Here, take your shirt off," he says, trying his best to sound his usual authoritative self even though he's more than a little unsure of whether it's the right thing to say. Ian shoots him a look like he wants to make a joke, but doesn't open his mouth to say anything. Mickey rolls his eyes. "Come on, before you catch hypothermia or somethin'."

Ian complies, moving his arms like they're made of lead as he shrugs off the hoodie and then peels off the tank top he was wearing underneath. Mickey wraps the towel around his bare shoulders and gingerly pats dry the back of his neck. His false confidence falters when his thumb brushes against Ian's neck, feeling how feverish the other's skin feels against his hand. He stops moving, thumb still against Ian's neck and stomach tying itself in knots not even the best of boy scouts could untie.

"Mickey?" Ian croaks, eyes searching Mickey's expression like they're scared of what they might find. He leans his neck back into Mickey's touch a fraction of a centimeter, their eyes locking on each other's.

"Look, man, I'm not good at this... Taking care of people and all that shit," Mickey mumbles, letting go of Ian and shoving his hands into his pockets again, staving off the embarrassment and confusing concern that's bubbling up his throat. Ian watches him like a hawk, not even the shivers taking his attention off of Mickey. "You want me to call someone? You said your brother and sister can help if you need anything, right?"

"No, it's fine," Ian replies, pulling the towel tighter around himself.

"You sure? They probably know how to do this better than I do," Mickey says. The words come out more self-deprecating than he means for them to, a reminder of how love and care were so often synonymous with violence when he was growing up. If he cared about his sister, he'd beat on any guys who upset her. If his father cared about him, it meant pistol-whipping him in the living room. If anybody cared or loved anybody, violence would always be involved at some point or another. Taking care of someone else had never meant bringing them a change of dry clothes, or patting down their neck with a clean towel. It had never meant the pit of worry that had opened up in his stomach each time Ian was late coming home the past few weeks.

"I'm sure," Ian reassured him. When Mickey remained skeptical, Ian shrugged and finally directed his attention to the tile grout beneath his boots. "If I wanted their help I would've called them. I just wanted to come home."

Mickey takes a moment to process what this means - that Ian chose him over his siblings, their messy apartment over his childhood home - and finally lets out a breath that he's been holding for what feels like hours.

"Alright," he murmurs. He reaches out to keep drying Ian's neck and slowly moves on to his face, wiping away ever little river of rainwater that makes its way down his temples and jaw. He dries Ian's hair as gently as he can, running his fingers through the red locks once he's done to keep them out of Ian's face. Ian lifts his head to look up at him, pressing his head into Mickey's palm like a stray cat, and offers him a small smile. Whether he's thanking Mickey or reassuring him, Mickey isn't sure. "I'll go make some coffee."

"Thanks," Ian replies, chewing on his bottom lip as he watches Mickey leave.

Mickey turns off the TV on the way to the kitchen, steeping in the silence of the apartment as he goes about making enough coffee to last them the rest of the night and tomorrow morning. The air in the kitchen smells stale from all the cigarettes he smoked before Ian showed up, and as the coffee brews the room begins to smell like a cheap diner. Mickey leans against the counter, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes like it might shove down the potent cocktail of feelings coursing through his veins. It's no use of course, especially not when Ian pads into the kitchen in dry clothes and wet cheeks that glimmer in the low stove light.

"Hey," Mickey starts, watching as tears pour from Ian's bloodshot eyes and down his freckled cheeks. His instincts takes over then, overriding every lesson he learned at home about keeping his distance and lashing out at anyone who came too close, and he steps forward to pull Ian into an awkward but gentle hug. Ian tucks his face down against his shoulder, tears soaking into his t-shirt and the tip of his nose still icy when it touches his neck. Mickey feels himself relax as he holds Ian. It feels right, he realises, to take care of somebody like this. Or maybe not just somebody, but Ian. He gives the back of his neck a gentle squeeze. "You're home, you're alright."

Ian nods against him, shivering even in the warmth of Mickey's hold. When they finally pull apart it feels like hours have passed, and Mickey is the one who finds himself shivering now that they're apart. Timidly, he wipes the tears from Ian's cheeks with his thumb, then pours him a mug of coffee and lights a cigarette for them to share. They smoke in the living room until the downpour outside has come to a stop, no more rain hammering against the roof and no more raindrops racing each other down their windows.

On any other night Mickey would've left Ian and headed to his room to finish his theology paper or jerk off or just pass out, but the sight of Ian's wet lashes anchors him to his spot on the couch. When Ian moves closer to him, resting his head against Mickey's shoulder and shutting his eyes, Mickey doesn't flinch or move away or make a joke about what a softie Ian really is. Instead he lets his own head rest atop Ian's, cheek pressed against his damp hair, and moves his hand to hold Ian's knee.

The kind of closeness that has terrified him his whole life feels nothing other than comfortable in this moment, warm and tender like Ian's skin was beneath his touch. He shuts his eyes and falls asleep counting Ian's breaths.

#gallavich #gallavich fic #gallavich fluff #shameless fic #shameless fluff

71 notes · View notes

basil--and--sage · 1 month ago

Text

This is for @hobartsaglet, who asked for a headcanon list about how the company would respond to a trans person.

Oh boy, what can I say, this got long. (more than 3k words, oh well)

I love trans stuff and I’m also currently writing a super long fic about Fíli’s life, starting in the Blue Mountains, and he’s a trans guy in the fic. So, I have a lot of thoughts about trans Dwarves in general and also about the reaction of the company.

If this is your cup of tea, proceed!

A short info: I will use terms like afab/amab, mtf/ftm and such in the following text. Usually, I am not a big fan of those words, since they focus so much on the gender assigned at birth, but for better readability I will use them. Just so you know :)

The reaction of the company to a trans person will be connected to the opinion on trans people in the Dwarven society in general, at least to a certain point. So, I’d like to share some thoughts about that, before we get into the reactions of the company.

I read a lot of great fics with a very open-minded Dwarven society (and I loved it). In such a scenario it is fair to assume that the company would react quite positively.

But what if the Dwarven society is not as open-minded? In this scenario it is important to also think about how minorities in general are treated. What about sexism?

Since I’m currently working so much on my fic, these headcanons are strongly coloured by it. Let’s get started:

The general view on trans people in the Dwarven society:

A common headcanon in the fandom is the idea that the Dwarves are per se male-dominated in the way that there are more male Dwarves than female, as an explanation for the slow decline of the number of Dwarves in general. Let’s take a quota of one Dwarrowdam in five Dwarves.

What does that mean for the role of female Dwarves? There is probably a strong focus on childbirth, so it is expected for a lass to marry a Dwarrow and have a few children. The birth of a little lass could be seen as a gift to secure the family line, since the likelihood for a son to be able to marry one of the rare Dwarrowdams and produce some offspring with her, is statistically lower.

This means it is probably quite the issue, if a Dwarrowdam does not want to marry/is dedicated to her craft (=asexual)/does not want to have children/prefers females/or – turns out to be male after all (=a trans guy), who does not want to birth children.

Another important aspect: the role of Mahal as the Maker in Dwarven society. If the Dwarves in general think, that each one of them was made by Mahal himself, what consequences does it have, if one of them declares themself a different gender (=comes out as trans)? Is that accepted? Or seen as a form of blasphemy?

In case of the latter, we now have two factors working together: coming out as trans as a general threat to core believes, and also a difference between the reaction towards amab and afab people.

Another factor: the consequences of tragedies, especially for the Longbeards, like the loss of the Dwarven Kingdom in the Grey Mountains (which results in the return of the Dwarves to Erebor, under the reign of Thrór), the loss of Erebor, and the battle of Azanulbizar. I think, it is fair to assume that the Longbeards lost such a high number of people that the pressure to have children may be a lot stronger than in other clans, who faced less loss. This will also shape the way minorities are treated, and now we are back at the trans Dwarves.

After the loss of the Grey Mountains and the return to Erebor under the reign of Thrór, no Dwarf willing to work can be spared. Maybe being trans was a punishable offense in the past (due to the blasphemy), which could have led to banishment, but now there is such a demand for workers that Thrór probably changed some laws and now, all of a sudden, being trans isn’t a crime anymore. Although, that obviously doesn’t change the views of the public immediately.

Another question: is there a difference between different groups within society, for example the nobles and the working class (e.g. miners)? Since titles and such are not of importance in the working class, it’s fair to assume that the miners etc. are a lot less strict about the doings of their lasses, though there’s probably still a certain expectation for Dwarrowdams to marry a Dwarrow and have a bunch of Dwarflings. But it is probably not seen as a catastrophe, if the lass in question turns out to be dedicated to her craft, prefer Dams, or comes out as a trans guy.

Since the working class, especially the miners, are all the way down in the line of payment (they do most of the work, but most of the earnings go to the mine owners), it is probably common for Dams to work to provide for the family and only halt work during pregnancy and childbed, which means that gender roles per se are less strict in the working class. Female nobles, on the other hand, probably focus on marriage (which might be politically motivated) and children, since they have the line of their own families and the one of their husbands to secure. In this scenario, the coming out of the sole daughter as a trans guy must be seen as a lot more threatening.

After focusing on afab trans people, let us look at amab trans people. Since in this scenario Dwarrows are a lot more common, it is probably more accepted for them to be dedicated to their craft (=asexual) or to marry other male Dwarves. This might mean that they have in general more freedom how they live their lives, which could also mean that a son coming out as a trans gal is less seen as a catastrophe in comparison to afab people, though it’s probably still not easy, due to factors like the influence of Dwarven religion, and even more so in noble families.

If we look at the nobles in the company, all of them appear to be warriors (alongside their crafts), which could mean in conclusion that it is in general expected for noble sons to become fierce warriors, so noble parents are probably not thrilled, if their son comes out as a trans gal, especially, if she wishes to focus on marriage and such.

So, in conclusion:

If “a lass declares herself a lad” (=comes out as a trans guy), this is often seen as a tragedy, but somewhat tolerated (though not happily), as long as the lad in question is still willing to make use of Mahal’s gift (=wed and have children). If the lad in question refuses this, it is seen as a shame, similar to a cis lass, who refuses to have children, especially in noble families.

If “a lad declares himself a lass” (=comes out as a trans gal), the reactions are probably a lot milder due the to the lack of Dwarrowdams, but especially noble parents are still not thrilled, since sons are expected to be warriors, a path which is usually only available to lads.

Nonbinary people are treated accordingly, with an unfortunate focus on the gender they were assigned at birth with. This is obviously a very unpleasant and distressing situation for the nonbinary Dwarf in question, so they have a hard time.

I like to think, that Thorin follows his grandfather’s example and doesn’t criminalize being trans, since a) he does strike me as a kind person in general (if he isn’t on a quest of life and death), and b) he is probably also in no position to banish a Dwarf willing to work, since Thorin’s Hall (=their city in the Blue Mountains) is still rather young. Imagine the scenario of for example one of the few midwives coming out as trans. No way Thorin is going to kick them out of the city.

So, all in all: being trans is not a crime anymore for more than two hundred years (since Thrór returned to Erebor from the Grey Mountains), which means that the amount of disapproval in society probably also softened, though it is still frowned upon, especially in noble families and especially for afab people, which means that noble afab trans people have the most difficulties. As you can see, the view on trans people in this scenario is influenced by several factors like gender roles, sexism, spiritualism, social station, historic tragedies and such.

And now, with that in mind, let’s deal with the actual question: how does Thorin’s Company react to a trans person?

(if you made it this far, despite my verbose rambling, you have my deepest respect, lmao)

Thorin:

As the crown prince and heir, he received a very traditional upbringing in Erebor, which results in quite conservative opinions towards the role of Dwarrowdams and trans Dwarves in general. He still follows his grandfather’s example, and so it is not illegal to be trans in Thorin’s Hall, and one can even go to the city hall and change their name there.

His motto is: “Even if we do not agree with the choices of our fellow Dwarves, we will accept them and value their contribution to our society.”

That is all he will say about the topic and keep his own opinion to himself. Following this mantra, he will treat a trans member of the company with politeness and put a stop to any conflicts due to the subject matter, though he will keep his distance.

But what now, if a loved one comes out as trans? Like Fíli in my fic?

He’s struggling. He searches for a reason, probably blames himself, and has a very hard time in general. At the same time, the coming out explains so much, especially how unhappy the loved one in question has been for a long time. So, he shifts between his conservative views and the affection for his loved one, and in the end, he tolerates it, even if he is not pleased about it. He also does anything in his power to make things easier for the person, since he doesn’t want them to suffer anymore, though there would be a lot of very uncomfortable discussions about the topic in the beginning, with Thorin probably hoping that they change their mind and everything returns to ‘normal’.

But with some time, I think, he will truly come around, especially if we are indeed talking about his nephews, whom he loves very much. And one day, he will suddenly pause and realize that he isn’t bothered by it anymore and his own struggle in the past seems very far away. He then seeks to talk with the person and apologizes for his negativity in the beginning, and also works on repairing their relationship, since he is aware that he caused a lot of hurt with his behaviour.

Balin:

Balin lived through so many hardships that he early on started to question the values he was taught as a lad. As far as he can tell, everybody is just looking for a way to find happiness in a bleak world, and why would he make it any harder for them than it already is?

So, he’s very accepting, not matter if we are talking about a new person he meets or about a loved one.

Dwalin:

Dwalin might appear very intense in the beginning, but is actually a rather chill guy, when you get to know him better (at least to a certain degree. Let’s not talk about Elves). He doesn’t really care about what other people do in their private lives and has a similar opinion like his brother, especially after the horrors of Azanulbizar.

“Aye, what does that mean now? What words do I use, when I talk about you? Uh-huh, uh-huh. Alright.”

And that’s it.

Fíli:

I love the headcanon of Fíli being a trans guy, because it brings some suspense into the line of succession, since afab people are (in this scenario) usually not in line for the throne, but Fíli is better suited to be King than Kíli (especially in Kíli’s opinion), and it would also challenge Thorin’s views. Would he accept Fíli to the extent that he would declare him his heir? And if so, how is the process of getting there? Lots and lots of interesting questions!

And as a cis dude meeting a trans person for the first time?

He is slightly confused about it, but like Dwalin he just approaches them (with a puzzled Kíli looming behind him) and listens carefully. He accepts it and probably smooths the waters silently in the background with the less tolerant members of the company, so that it wouldn’t become a big deal.

Kíli:

If the trans person is Fíli? 100% accepting, even before he actually understands what is going on. He just wants his sibling to be happy. And if anybody says anything against it? The lad will throw hands. He’s also very excited to help pick out a new name for his sibling. (“It has to end with -li, so everybody knows we belong together!”)

And with every other person? Very confused in the beginning. Like always, he sends his brother ahead to nose out the unknown situation, before he swoops in with friendly curiosity.

At one point, his questions probably get way too private, but after Fíli tells him so, he’s embarrassed and apologizes. It is easy to forgive him, since he doesn’t mean any harm, and also, surprisingly, turns out to be most considerate one of the whole company (aside from Óin), for example with the bathing arrangements and such.

Though he would be really mystified in the beginning.

(“Fíli… psst!, Fíli! … this is so confusing. What… what if I turn out to be a lass?”

“Then you just happen to be one and I will love you all the same and stab everybody teasing you about it. And now shut up and go to sleep.”)

He also takes joy in correcting people using the wrong name or pronouns, to the point that everybody is annoyed, but Kíli has a great time.

Óin:

As a healer and midwife, he meets a lot of people with very different lives everyday and is known to be accepting, so a lot of the trans population of Thorin’s Hall goes to Óin, when they have a medical issue. He will treat them with respect, and he is also very discreet. (Here are more Óin headcanons)

Glóin:

He has a hard time. He doesn’t understand, why anyone would question Mahal’s decision to make them the way they are. He doesn’t attack anybody, but he keeps his distance. He’s also very annoyed, because Kíli corrects him loudly, whenever he gets it wrong.

Until he suddenly doesn’t mind anymore, because at one point he finally understands that it isn’t such a big deal, and they are just a person like everybody else. Then he starts to be surprisingly protective.

ftm/mtf: “Oi! That is our lad/lass, you are talking about!”

nb: “Oi, that is our – our – our what now? – our person you are talking about!”

(he a little confused, but he got the spirit)

Dori:

Dori is very proper and values good manners, so he’s very respectful about the whole affair and takes great care to use the right pronouns and the right name. His own private opinion is not important and also stays a mystery.

He likes to judgingly side-eye everybody, who gets it wrong. (with Kíli cheerfully correcting them in the background)

Nori:

I love to headcanon Nori as trans.

And if he’s cis? He doesn’t give a shit, since his own concept of gender is kind of casual. He doesn’t think in categories like male or female. Everybody is the same to him: a wandering wallet waiting to be pickpocket.

Ori:

He’s very excited, since he recently read interesting literature about the history of “the ones, who change their path” (=trans people), and would love to talk about the topic in depth. The trans person is probably slightly overwhelmed at one point, but he’s very sweet about it and means well, and he also dishes out very subtle digs at anybody, who’s not nice about it.

Bifur:

He listens carefully and then he signs: “Tell me, if I get it wrong.”

Though he doesn’t, not even once.

If there are bad reactions, Bifur dislikes that very much, since he knows how it is to be dismissed due to his injury. He gives the rude person a bombastic stink-eye, while sneaking the trans person little things, like berries he picked, to lift their mood.

Bofur:

Another one I love to headcanon as trans.

And as a cis dude: Everyone knows Bofur and Bofur knows everyone, and so he also knows quite a lot of trans people. So, he’s not confused in the slightest, and just very casually accepts it.

Bombur:

He’s accepting, but very nervous, since he doesn’t want to get it wrong and offend anybody. Unfortunately, he’s so nervous, he accidently gets everything wrong, one can get wrong, and is mortified about it. He apologizes profusely.

After a few days he gets used to it and calms down, and then it is not a big deal anymore.

Bilbo:

Bilbo appears to have never heard about trans people before and listens attentively. He’s very polite and respectful about it.

At one point he suddenly talks about his one uncle, “who used to be an aunt”. The Dwarves are like, “And why the fuck did we had to explain it in such detail, if you already knew about it?”

Bilbo stuffs his pipe, shrugs, and says: “One can never be careful enough about cultural differences.”

Gandalf:

He’s very accepting.

He also says something very obscure about life in general, while smoking his pipe and staring meaningful into the distance. Then he says something even more confusing about the genders of wizards, before wandering off into the fog to not be seen for the next few days without another word.

Afterwards everybody is very puzzled and wonders, what that was now supposed to mean.

And that's it! Sorry for the long wait. It got longer than expected and I also got a little self-conscious about it, since there are already so many great headcanons about trans Dwarves, but maybe someone still finds some enjoyment in my take :)

33 notes · View notes

maccreadysbaby · 3 days ago

Text

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: anxiety attacks, angst

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

bentley is SO NOT OKAY SNSRNDJFJSJKSK HE IS SO UNGOOD HE IS SO UNWELL HE IS SO

part thirty-one

❝ IN THE JOB DESCRIPTION ❞

SUNDAY — JULY 29 — 11:24AM

BENTLEY FOUND HIMSELF SITTING ON ONE OF THE BENCHES AROUND THE FOUNTAIN HE’D MET CHLOE AT, ALONE.

The sun was shining, and the sky was a beautiful, cloudless blue, the afternoon air not too hot and not too cold. The campus was quiet apart from a few students here and there, maybe the occasional bird. Even despite the niceness of the day, everything felt sort of… wrong.

Bentley and Asten had never actually fought like that before. Sure, they bickered like best friends and brothers did, but they’d never fought. They’d seen mostly eye to eye on everything since Bentley’s met him — at least enough to make arguments practically nonexistent in their relationship.

It was weird. Knowing Asten was in the dorm mad at him. It sort of made Bentley’s whole world tilt a little… just knowing that he was mad and Asten was mad back. The real kind of mad, too.

Bentley was the one in the right. And he knew he was the one in the right.

But that didn’t make it much easier.

“Care for some company?”

He flinched when a familiar voice came from his left. Glancing up, his brown eyes locked onto Valor’s grey ones, bright and shiny in the sun. He looked sort of like he’d freshly woken up, and was wearing a big black hoodie and sweats, his arms folded over his chest.

Bentley cringed to himself, looking back out at the willow trees ahead. “Did you hear all of it?”

Valor shrugged, taking that as a yes to his previous question and and sitting down on the bench next to him. “I couldn’t tell what you were saying, but the tone of your voices was enough for me to deduce that it wasn’t a happy conversation.”

Bentley looked down at his shoes, scraping the toes against the pavement. “Yeah…”

Valor stretched arbitrarily, his wings flitting and making a series of loud poufnoises. “Well, if you wanna talk, I have ears. And if you don’t want talk, I… still have ears.”

Bentley smiled an empty, amused smile, but it only lasted for a few seconds before fading away in the morning breeze. Then he looked down at his feet and shrugged. “He’s started lying to me, and hiding stuff. He never did that before we came here. It…” Bentley trailed off, tapping his foot on the concrete with a few soft taps. “Makes me feel like he doesn’t trust me anymore…”

Valor hummed in acknowledgment as he listened, stretching his wings out, the right one lazily looping around Bentley’s shoulders like he’d done to Bellamy the night before. It was heavier than an arm and Bentley had to admit, it felt nice.

“Keeping secrets and lying doesn’t always mean he doesn’t trust you,” Valor suggested, glancing at Bentley, then across the campus grounds. “It’s more likely that he’s insecure — worried what he’s doing will change your opinion of him, so he tries to hide it.”

Bentley guessed that… made sense.

He exhaled lightly, tapping his hands on his pants. “Why won’t he just say that?”

Valor hummed again. “From what I’ve seen and heard, you’re very emotionally aware and open. Which is good. But it’s harder for other people to be that way.”

Bentley wasn’t sure how emotionally aware and open he really was, but he’d take it. He looked down at his shoes again with a soft sigh. “It still hurts...”

Valor’s wing tightened a little around him. “I know.”

As the adrenaline and blinding anger from the fight started to wear down, and Valor’s words started bringing things to light, he started getting that suffocating feeling he got when Asten was mad at him the day before. So Asten really was just… afraid, and he’d yelled at him for it?

Everything at Redwood was just wrong. Everyone was mad and Bentley could never seem to be happy about anything — there was always something following him around and making him irritated or sad or upset or angry. It had only taken one school-week for him to get all weird and screw everything up. Like he always did.

Bentley rubbed a hand over his face with a heavy sigh, propping his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. “I hate this. School is stressing me out, and Asten’s stressing me out, and being homesick is stressing me out, and pretending I’m not stressed out is stressing me out. I’m…” He paused and searched for a word, his eyes staying locked on the concrete below them. “…overwhelmed.”

A moment of quiet passed, and as he thought through all the things that was making everything so bad, his eyes started to burn, so he looked away. “And I’m not going to cry about it.”

He heard Valor sigh lightly. Then his wing left Bentley’s shoulders, and he stood up, turning to face him. “Stand up.”

Bentley glanced up at him in confusion.

“Come on, stand up,”

After a moment of quiet, Bentley relented and pushed himself onto his feet.

“Now do this,” Valor continued, holding his arms out sort of diagonally to either side. Bentley, with a confused look on his face, copied it.

Then Valor, with a soft smile, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

Bentley was kind of shocked at first, because that wasn’t what he’d expected, but he gave in with a soft sigh and hugged him back anyways. Everything inside of him seemed to spin up even worse than it had been at the contact, like a tornado kicking up dust, and he tried hard to blink away the burn in his eyes that came back with a vengeance.

He tried to pull away because he so didn’t want to cry right then, but he also kind of didn’t want to pull away, and his conflicting, hesitant motions seemed to confuse Valor because he muttered: “What’s wrong?”

Bentley said nothing for a moment, blinking rapidly even though it didn’t help. Why was he crying so much lately? He wasn’t crying that much before he came to school… and he was thirteen. Not a baby. He shouldn’t have been crying at all. “I…’m sorry. I’m… not gonna cry, I swear.”

Valor moved, but it wasn’t to release him like he thought. Actually, Bentley was pretty sure his wings came forward and around him, too. “There. Now no one else can see you.”

Bentley didn’t say anything to that, but he did stop trying to pull away and held on to the back of Valor’s hoodie instead, pressing his forehead against his shoulder in a attempt to not have a spectacular breakdown.

“Hey…” Valor tried, rubbing Bentley’s back lightly. “You’re trembling. Y’know you have full permission to, like, lose your shit, right? You don’t have to try and be okay. Sometimes that’s worse.”

Bentley didn’t say anything to that, but as soon as Valor spoke, his eyes started to burn tremendously worse.

“I’m sorry…” He continued, and he hated how thick and cracky his voice was. He let go of Valor’s hoodie and brought his hands to his face, hiccuping lightly even though he was trying so hard not to.

“Don’t apologize. Just cry. It’s okay,”

And so Bentley did.

—

He and Valor stayed outside for a long while. And when they finally ventured back into the dorm, it was almost two in the evening. Bentley didn’t go into his room.

Instead, he found himself knocking lightly on Bellamy’s door.

It only took him a few seconds to open it. He only cracked it at first, like he was checking who it was, and when his brown eyes landed on Bentley, he opened it wider.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing Bellamy asked softly, stepping out of the way so Bentley could come in. As soon as he crossed the threshold, the door was closed behind him. “You look like you were crying.”

Bentley sighed lightly, sitting down on the bottom bunk of Bellamy’s bed. “I’m okay.”

Bellamy didn’t seem too convinced, and Bentley didn’t blame him. He’d literally cried what had to be every last bit of liquid out of his body and was now just sort of… floating. Almost tired, in a way. Numb. Foggy.

“I had a… moment. But it’s over now,” He continued. Bellamy didn’t say anything, he just sort of shuffled over and sat next to Bentley on the bed, watching him closely with a concerned look on his face.

“I’m sorry…” Was the next thing Bellamy said, glancing down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers. “You look… sleepy.”

Bentley shrugged. “More… empty feeling, I guess. I dunno. I’m…”

His sentence trailed off. He was going to say cold, but he realized that wouldn’t work if he wasn’t with Bruce — so he didn’t say it. He just sort of brought his arms up and around himself like he usually did and exhaled lightly. “I’m… sorry.” Is what he settled on saying.

“It’s… okay,” Bellamy replied. After a few moments of quiet, Bentley felt a small hand come to rest gently on his back.

That’s when Bentley’s phone started vibrating in his pocket.

With a long sigh, he dug it out, glancing at the caller ID that was shining across the screen. It was an unnamed number.

He declined it and put his phone next to him.

About five seconds later, it started vibrating again.

With a huff of frustration, he picked it up and declined the call, then watched the screen, waiting.

Ten seconds later, it called a third time.

He answered it and brought the small device to his ear with a curt, irritated: “What?”

“Bentley. Don’t hang up,”

Something Iike existential dread shot from his head down to his toes, and he suddenly felt kind of nauseous. His mouth dropped open but he didn’t know what to say. Lots of things he didn’t want to think about started getting dredged up and made it hard to focus, to breathe.

“I know it’s been three years, and that you have a… a new father now, but… listen, I don’t have much time…”

Bentley barely managed to stammer out the words: “How… how did you get my phone number?”

Wasn’t his father in prison? And wasn’t he, like, not allowed to have contact with Bentley anymore?

“Look, I know you don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you — but you have to listen to me,” His father’s voice started. It sounded urgent, serious, like he really needed to say something important. “I heard you’re at Redwood Academy, in New York?”

“How-“

“You have to get out of that school, Bentley. You have to go back to Gotham. Or… find another one, it doesn’t matter, just… you have to get out of there,”

Bentley opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t make himself, so all that came out was a squeak. His chest was suddenly constricting and tightening in a way that was reminiscent of the day he saw his father at the store, and he desperately wanted Tim.

He couldn’t breathe.

How had his father gotten ahold of him? And what did he mean he had to leave the school? He sounded serious enough, but when could someone like him ever be trusted again? Someone who was so determined to ruin Bentley’s life in every conceivable way?

Bentley ended the call without saying anything. His hands were shaking — so much that he could barely hold the phone. He tried to come back to himself, but he could hardly focus on reality through the gut-wrenching flashback reel of every other time he’d heard that voice. He couldn’t breathe.

He reached out to the side, toward Bellamy.

“Bentley?”

He thought about asking for Asten.

Instead, the name he forced out between gasps for air was: “Koa.”

Bellamy left the room not a second later.

Bentley grasped at his own shirt, unable to create coherent thoughts about anything. His chest hurt really bad and he wasn’t sure he was actually breathing in any air, which kind of made him feel like he was going to pass out, which only made him more anxious and his heart rate spike way too high. He ended up dropping his phone from how much he was shaking and he had to close his eyes because he was really starting to feel like he might throw up on Bellamy’s floor.

His father knew where he was. He knew where he was, and that probably meant he knew what he was doing, and where he was going, and who he was with, and that he wasn’t at the Manor, and he was going to kill them all. He was going to kill them all-

He flinched hard when someone’s really cold hand landed on the back of his neck.

“Hey, Bentley. It’s Koa. Can you hear me?”

Bentley might’ve nodded, if he had the willpower. Which he didn’t.

“Okay, Bentley, I want you to do something for me. Can you open your eyes?”

He tried, but it didn’t work. He couldn’t breathe.

Koa’s hand moved on the back of his neck up into his hairline, just like Bruce did — which meant he must’ve been paying close attention to Asten last time Bentley had an attack. “I’ve got you. I’m right in front of you — can you look at me?”

Bentley summoned whatever willpower he could into peeling his eyes open. Koa was sitting in front of him in sweats, looking calm as ever, even smilingslightly. Maybe a little tired, too? Or a still a little hungover? Did Bellamy wake him up?

“Hey. Will you hold this?” He questioned casually.

Bentley looked down when Koa grabbed his right hand and placed something in his shaking palm — something cold and wet. Was he holding ice?

“Thanks,” Koa continued, as though they were just having a typical conversation. Bentley looked at the little translucent crescent in his palm with a slowly growing puddle around it. “Try moving it from hand to hand, so your one doesn’t get too cold.”

Bentley wasn’t exactly sure what he was getting at, but he obeyed the best he could — he was still trembling, but he managed to tilt his right hand enough for the piece of ice to slide into his left, leaving a trail of cold water in its wake.

“Good. You’re doing great. Now try moving it back,”

Bentley did as he was told, letting the ice slide back into his other hand. The cold on the back of his neck felt eerily similar to the cold on his hands, but he was so focused on not dropping the ice that he didn’t really pay it much mind.

Koa nodded encouragingly. “Okay, now try tilting your hand to move it in circles on your palm, without dropping it.”

Somehow, he managed.

“Good! Now your other hand,” Koa added, continually and gently moving his hand on the back of Bentley’s head.

Bentley followed Koa’s directions for a while. He moved the ice in circles on his left hand, then his right again, then switched it back and forth a few more times before he realized… that he was breathing much easier.

When the ice was gone and he was left with nothing but wet hands, Koa, who was still crouched in front of him, patted his knee. “How are you feeling?”

Bentley took a deep breath. Besides still feeling a little bit nauseous like he always did after an attack, he felt… y’know. Better. He could breathe, and think, and his heart wasn’t pounding anymore, and he wasn’t so shaky.

“…Better,” He replied softly, glancing up at Koa, whose seafoam eyes were bouncing along his face, calculating, watching. “How did you… know that would work?”

“Tricks of the trade, I guess. Artimi and I have been trying out different ways to deal with attacks for a long time. Most don’t work, but ice usually does for him,” Koa shrugged with a faint smile. “It was a gamble trying it with you, but it looks like it paid off.”

Bentley took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m sorry.”

Koa smiled sadly, patting the back of his neck once. “No apologies, dude. What happened?”

Bentley glanced down at his green phone that was laying in the floor, then over at Bellamy, who was sitting quietly next to him just like he had been. Maybe… a little more freaked out looking. “I just… got into an argument with Asten earlier. That on top of school and everything else had me really stressed out and overwhelmed…”

His roommates didn’t need to know about his father. Not yet.

“I’m sorry, I know it sucks,” Koa squeezed his knee supportively with his other hand. “You’re feeling okay?”

Bentley shrugged. “Kind of like I haven’t slept in a year. But yeah.”

“Stress’ll do that to you. I’ll leave you to rest now, but if you need me I’ll be in the living room,” Koa replied, rising from where he was, his hands vanishing and leaving Bentley sort of… he didn’t know. Cold? “There’s a whole ice maker’s worth of attack help in the fridge, so don’t hesitate to come get me, alright?”

“Okay…” Bentley trailed off, taking another deep breath. “Thank you, Koa,”

Koa smiled at him. “Of course. It’s in my job description.”

Then he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Bentley glanced over at Bellamy, who’d been eerily still and quiet by his side the entire time. The eleven year old didn’t say anything, he just glanced down at his fingers like he’d been caught watching something he was supposed to. “‘M sorry, Bell. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” Bellamy was quick to respond. “It’s not your fault.”

Bentley didn’t say anything to that.

Bellamy pushed himself further up on his bed, so he was sort of against the wall, emptying the left side of the mattress. “You can lay in here. I’ll stay.”

Bentley glanced back at him, smiling a quick, empty smile. “Thanks, but you don’t have to.”

“You stayed with me,” Bellamy continued. “You said you like sleeping with people around.”

Fortunately for Bellamy, Bentley didn’t take much convincing. He quickly relented with a soft sigh and a quiet: “Okay.”

He crawled up to the top of Bellamy’s bed and got under the covers, settling in on the left side while Bellamy sat to his right. He didn’t realize exactly how exhausted he was until then — because, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. “Thanks, Bell.”

He didn’t say anything — but Bentley felt his hand land on his back and rub it gently through the covers.

He fell asleep within minutes.

tag list that never works lmao

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

16 notes · View notes