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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 months

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Crush Symptoms

idea, but no pressure: Touch-starved analogical? Maybe a bit of hurt/comfort where they both think the other doesn’t like hugs/other touch, but really they just don’t know how to ask? love your work! – amateurmasksmith

I was wondering if you could do a fic with Virgil as the comforter, since he’s rarely in that role. I was thinking Logan starts working more and taking worse care of himself, and instead of processing his stress and feelings he holds the stress in his body, which combined with sitting more and shit is causing him physical pain, and Virgil, being anxiety, helps him relax and relieves the pain. No pressure tho lol I just thought it’d be interesting to see some physical comfort since you write mental comfort so well – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: chronic pain, not-actually unrequited love

Pairings: analogical

Word Count: 3306

Logan is aware that he is what some people might call 'standoffish.' This does not prevent him from developing quite the crush on Virgil. Now, if only he could find a way to talk about it that didn't involve having s mental breakdown...

Logan is aware that he is what some people might call 'standoffish.' He does not invite the same camaraderie that a few of the other Sides do, nor does he make himself approachable for things such as hugs or other forms of physical affection. By and large, he is content to remain this way, as it allows him to perform his duties and adhere to his schedule without being waylaid by those who will not be named that are quite fond of occupying laps or other physical spaces as would a particularly affectionate pet. That is, offended by any sort of dislodging or movement that impedes their ability to use him as a pillow.

Now, this does not mean that he is averse to offering physical affection, far from it. If Patton is in need of a hug, or if Roman insists on sweeping them all into some form of ballroom dance, he will oblige. Firstly because often it is no hardship, secondly because if it is a hardship, complying usually gets it over with a little quicker. However, there are certain forms that he resists wholeheartedly, namely being tackled onto the nearest surface, soft or otherwise. He has several bruises from the trial and error period of figuring out how best to avoid such circumstances.

While this serves him perfectly well the majority of the time, he would be remiss in his conclusions to say that it works out all the time. He is still human, metaphysical or otherwise, and as such, is subject to the same things that all humans are when it comes to his health. He must still endeavor to eat relatively healthily, he must get an adequate amount of sleep, and yes, he must socialize. This can typically be achieved by attending the 'family dinners,' as Patton is fond of calling them, regularly scheduling movie nights for everyone, and partaking in whatever events the twins conjure in the Imagination for them to enjoy. Recently, however, he's been noticing something amiss.

He's begun to get quite cold. At first, he ascribed it to the changing seasons; despite the fact that Thomas lives in Florida, the coming of the winter months is accompanied by some decrease in average temperature. It made sense, then, that he would be colder if it were colder outside. However, the general feeling of the Mindscape did not alter significantly, nor did adding sweaters or cardigans make any sort of meaningful difference. He tried switching his water intake with hot tea, keeping a blanket on hand to drape over his lap when he worked, even trying to make his room warmer using a few extra heat lamps Janus deemed insufficient. Nothing worked, in fact it made it worse. Now he felt both too warm and too cold at the same time, which was endlessly perplexing. How could he be sweating and still feel cold?

It became clear this was not a typical issue of temperature. There is something else at work here, clearly, that is giving him the sensation of being cold without the physical symptoms present. Perhaps some sort of latent emotional response due to something happening in Thomas's life. But as much as he tries to investigate that avenue, he fails to find anything significant enough to warrant this sudden feeling. None of the others imply that anything's wrong, Thomas isn't undergoing any significant struggle, and even checking in on the status of his own work fails to result in anything useful.

The last option, then, is that the problem is entirely internal.

At first, the conclusion makes Logan scoff. What could he be doing or not doing that would result in him feeling cold? He was maintaining his physical fitness, his general health, even his social requirements. He'd just come from movie night, after all, where all of them ended up on one of the large mattresses the twins could summon, huddled under blankets while some generic action movie played on the TV. He hadn't felt cold during that, had he?

Logan sits down at his desk, fingers steepled in concentration. He closes his eyes, trying to remember how he felt a few minutes ago. He'd been sitting with his back against the couch, yes, with Roman and Remus cuddled up near the edge of the mattress as Janus quietly explained to Patton what was going on. Virgil had been on the other side, twisting his hoodie strings back and forth as he watched. Logan hadn't been cold, how could he have been, what with the twins acting as space heaters under the blankets? The only time that he had even approached getting cold had been when Remus got up to use the bathroom, pushing his way through the pile of them and the blanket had flipped up. Virgil had leaned forward to pull it back down and brushed against Logan's arm.

Logan blinks.

Virgil's arm had been warm. Distressingly so. As though someone had taken a hot water bottle and pressed it against him. It had lasted barely a second, as Virgil had quickly pulled away with a muttered apology. But that is, to date, the only memory Logan has of actually feeling warm instead of cold.

Glancing at the clock, he sighs and opens his laptop, quickly typing something in and adjusting his glasses. The cold feeling reemerges as he reads, one hand unconsciously going to the front of his chest as he takes in the words on the screen. He amends his conclusion about what's going on both too quickly and too slowly.

He's touch starved.

Had someone brought up the possibility even an hour earlier, he would have scoffed. He wasn't the type of person to become touch starved. He had all the options for physical affection he would want, how could he be touch starved? His role didn't give him any sort of predisposition to it either, that was reserved for Patton, Roman, Remus, even Janus. Logic, touch starved? The very notion was preposterous.

And yet, once you have eliminated the impossible…

He closes the laptop again and sits back, the hand still on his chest now feeling woefully inadequate. There are solutions to this problem, obviously, his disbelief at its existence signifies as such. He would be able to receive assistance from at least three Sides if he went to them right this moment and informed them of his predicament.

He sits in the chair, unmoving.

Patton would baby him. Treat him as though he were a child, someone to be smothered and cooed at, perhaps even forbid him from being on his own for a while until it was solved. That in and of itself might have the complete opposite effect and make him resent the idea of touch altogether.

Remus would be more aggressive. He might be wrestled down and held until Remus deemed it alright to let him up, which wouldn't be for a considerable amount of time. Besides, he's seen Remus's choice of affection and he's not sure such treatment would work to resolve the problem.

Janus would tease him. Or at the very least, hold it over his head in some way, no matter how innocent or playful it would be, in exchange for his help. He's embarrassed enough as it is, he can only imagine that having to watch Janus smirk and chuckle at him as he tried—badly, because that is all he can do at the moment—to make himself ask for physical comfort.

Roman…might be alright. Out of all of the Sides, Roman is perhaps the only one who Logan can actually imagine struggling with touch starvation. Roman would understand and probably wouldn't hold it over him in any way, or make him uncomfortable about it. He would understand the severity of the situation and the significance of Logan coming to him for help, but…but…

But if Logan is being very honest with himself in this moment, there is only one Side he truly wants to go to and ask for help, and it isn't Roman.

He gets up then, going to the bathroom to finish his nighttime routine, turning off the light and settling into bed. He sets his glasses on the side table and turns over. After a moment, he takes one of the spare pillows and tucks it against his chest. If he closes his eyes, he can attempt to imagine someone else here.

His crush on Virgil is an open secret between him and Roman at this point. Ironically enough, it was one of the first things that solidified this new friendship between them. Roman wouldn't betray his trust, he knows, nor would he actually bother him about it if he knew it was causing him this much distress. Sure, he'd coaxed Logan into doing one of those horrifically cliched rants about how much he liked Virgil once or twice under the justification that it was better to get it out in some way before it spilled out uncontrollably, but other than that, he left it alone. Which was excellent, because then there's a smaller chance that Virgil will find out, but also, that almost definitely rules out going to Roman for any sort of help.

Because Roman is, contrary to Logan's insistence, quite sensible, and he will no doubt suggest that Logan go and actually talk to Virgil.

Even the thought crossing his mind is enough to make him scoff again, burying his face in the pillow. Virgil is not one for physical affection either, which renders the entire solution pointless. If by some miracle he actually accepted Logan's affections—he does not dare give himself the hope that Virgil would return them—that was no guarantee that anything beneficial would become of it. He would simply have to deal with this on his own, or find some way to achieve a solution that would stem the worst of it until he thought of something better.

The cold feeling in his chest spreads a little bit as he falls asleep.

He does not, in fact, succeed at doing either of these things. Instead, he decides that the best way to avoid dealing with this problem is to devote himself to his projects, reasoning that if he has less brain space to worry about it and dwell on his inability to resolve it, it will become less of a problem. In doing so, he forgets three key things: one, you cannot reason or think your way out of being in pain, two, ignoring a problem does not make it go away, and three, ignoring this particular problem makes it much worse.

Much, much worse.

The first time he tries to get up and has to wince at the pull in his shoulders, he doesn't think anything of it. Perhaps he was sitting for too long. He rolls them a few times to stretch them out and continues about his day as though nothing's gone wrong.

The first time he gets up and has to immediately sit back down, he has the thought of reaching for his water bottle and a snack. He looks at the clock and realizes he's been working far longer than he anticipated. Perhaps that was it, just losing track of time.

The first time he wakes up and every single muscle in his body aches, he knows he's gone too far.

He has half a mind to scold himself the way he does the twins for neglecting his physical health in favor of his work, but just as soon as the thought crosses his mind, another pushes itself to the forefront. The physical manifestation of stress has not only caused him to become virtually immobile, but it has a high likelihood of directly alerting the one person Logan would really rather not know about any of this.

A dread that is instantly realized when he feels something soft and warm brushing his hair back from his face.

"Hey, L? L, can you hear me?"

"Virgil?"

"Yeah, it's me." He must be imagining the relief in Virgil's voice, why else would he sound like that? "Sorry to come in without asking, but it seems like you're really not having a good time right now."

He manages to pry his eyes open and sure enough, there is Virgil, looking down at him with concern written plainly across his face. He swallows and his throat protests. Virgil seems to take that as an answer.

"I think you've overworked yourself a bit," he says in that soft way that isn't teasing, not really, but enough to make Logan flush, "can I help you figure out something else?"

"Like what?"

"You're in pain right now, yeah? Shh, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like a bad thing—I mean, it's a bad thing you're in pain, but I'm here to help you not be in pain, not make fun of you for being in pain."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize for reacting like you're hurt when you are." His hand cards through Logan's hair again and he has to bite his lip at how warm the touch is. "Can I help, though? I know a bit about making this sort of pain go away."

This is a bad idea. This is in fact a terrible idea. This is not something Logan should agree too.

"Okay," Virgil says, when Logan nods because of course he does, why should he stop making bad decisions now, "here's what we're gonna do, okay? I'm guessing there's a lot of pain just sort of in your limbs, am I right?"

"Yes."

"Got it. I'm gonna start stretching them out, okay? You let me know if anything hurts too much and I'll stop right away."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna start with your arm." Virgil's hands are so warm and solid on his arm that he almost bites back a whine. "That okay? Not hurting too much?"

"N-no."

"Okay. Let me know if that changes."

He starts lifting and rotating Logan's arm, bending and straightening it and massaging the tender skin. Some part in the back of Logan's brain recognizes he's trying to restore regular blood flow and a decent range of movement, but the rest of him is currently swallowed in the dry warmth of Virgil's touch. He lays that arm down after a while and moves to the other one. But this has him leaning over Logan with his shadow falling across Logan's face and he can't stop the slight rush of breath that escapes him.

"Hey," comes the gentle voice and that isn't helping matters at all, "hey, what's wrong, bud? You doing okay? Am I being too much?"

"No," he says far too quickly, "no, you're…you're fine."

A bemused smile comes to his face and he nods, continuing to work on the other arm. Logan's torn between letting his eyes fall shut to enjoy the sensation of just someone else touching him and keeping them open so as not to miss a second. Virgil seems mostly oblivious to his dilemma, patiently working his way up and down the arm until he lays it flat once more. He sits back on his haunches, a hand resting on Logan's knee. Even through the covers, the touch burns.

"How're your legs doing, bud? They hurt too?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'm gonna need to take the covers off so I can see 'em, is that okay?" Logan nods, but as soon as the cool air hits him, the swelling sensation in his chest buckles and he's gasping for air in the next second. "Whoa, whoa, hey, hey, shh, shh, L, it's okay, look, there, the blanket's all back, see? Shh, it's okay, you're okay."

"Sorry," Logan gasps out, "sorry, I'm so sorry."

Virgil shuffles closer, a furrow between his eyebrows. "You've got nothing to apologize for, L, I mean it. I'm here to help, okay? If something I'm doing isn't helping, then you tell me and I stop it. That's what you did, you're doing great."

"N-no, I'm sorry you—you have to help me like—help me like this."

"Like what?"

"You have to—to touch me."

Virgil goes quiet. Logan squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the telltale noise of sinking out. Instead, he almost loses his entire composure when a hand gently cups his cheek.

"Logan," comes the voice, soft, too soft, too sweet, "open your eyes, look at me, sweetheart."

Oh, no. Not the pet names. Literally anything but that.

But Logan is weak and already doing what Virgil asked. The thumb brushing his cheek does make him want to shut his eyes again, because this cannot be real, but Virgil is smiling at him.

"I don't mind touching you," he murmurs, "that's not a hardship for me. Is it that you don't like being touched? Is that the problem?"

"You…" None of his brain wants to work so long as that hand is on his face. "Can't think."

The hand leaves and the cold makes him whimper. Virgil's hand touches his knee again. He blinks.

"You don't like being touched."

"What makes you think that?" Logan just stares at him. "Just because I don't like being tackled by Remus doesn't mean I don't like being touched."

"O-oh."

"Besides, if it were you, I don't think I'd have any problem with it at all." Virgil chuckles when a flush decides that now is the perfect time to spread all over Logan's face. "Wow, okay, I wasn't expecting that."

"You—you—what?"

He leans forward, both hands reaching this time, and they fit gently around the curve of Logan's neck. The rush of warmth is staggering, not helped at all by Virgil's soft voice still murmuring to him. "I thought you didn't like to be touched, sweetheart, that's it. I'm happy to help you, I promise. And Princey's definitely gonna tease the hell out of me when he hears about this."

"Wait, why?"

"Because he knows about the big fat crush I have on you and if he could see me right now…" Virgil trails off when he notices Logan's eyes brimming with tears. "Hey, hey, sweetheart, don't cry, I'm sorry, that was too much to dump on you right now, here, let me help you with your legs and you can—"

Logan doesn't let him finish, surging forward to clumsily press his mouth to Virgil's. The hands cradling his face stutter and for a moment, he thinks he's made the worst mistake of his life, but then Virgil sighs and kisses him back like it's the only thing he wants to do.

"Well," he says softly when they break apart, "I think Princey's gonna be teasing both of us, then?"

"Probably."

Virgil chuckles and rubs their noses together. "How about this, then: let me help stretch your legs out, get you some painkillers, then we'll cuddle in bed and not worry about how smug Princey's gonna be until later?"

"That sounds perfectly adequate."

"'Perfectly adequate,' alright, I can work with that."

Roman does indeed end up being very smug, but he's quietly smug about it, which Logan will take as a win.

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #logan sanders #virgil sanders

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ahundredtimesover · 1 year

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Watching jin monthly message always sparks idea in my head 🥹 like imagine tlods jin attending an online meeting at home and little sena would pop in to say hello and see what appa's doing or yoongi or his employee popping in to see sena while he's facetiming oc and sena while on a business trip 🥰🥰

A/N: Anything we get from Jin is a special one! I hope you enjoy this 🥰

The Light of Dead Stars Masterlist

“I don’t find the report adequate,” CEO Kim says. “They’re probably downplaying how bad it is so Seokjin, I’ll need you to fly to there and assess the damage. Evaluate the managers and leads while you’re there, too.”

“Yes, sir. When do you want me to—”

Seokjin stops at the sound of his office door slowly creaking open, immediately knowing it’s his daughter paying him a visit. You’re right behind, mouthing an I’m sorry, even though there’s nothing to apologize for. It’s Saturday night after all; this is his time with you and your daughter but a mess up at distribution with the US office prompted this emergency meeting that he couldn’t get out of, cutting short your movie night.

“Appa!” Sena says, yawning as she does. She walks towards him and climbs up to sit on his lap, uncaring of what her father is doing. “I’m sleepy.”

Seokjin worriedly looks up at the screen and shyly smiles, thankful that the meeting is at least with family who wouldn’t mind this little disruption.

“Hey, Princess. I thought you were asleep already. Sorry that appa can’t be with you right now.”

“I can’t sleep,” she pouts, curling in his arms. “I want appa to sing.”

“Ah. That's what you need to fall asleep, hmm?” He asks, cupping her fluffy cheeks.

She nods adorably, making him incredibly weak. You walk inside his office, ready to take the little one away but Seokjin shakes his head, saying it’s okay, so you stand by the door and watch your daughter make herself comfortable in her father’s embrace.

“Okay. I’ll just finish this meeting and then I can sing you a lullaby. Is that okay, Princess?”

“Okay,” she smiles, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

Seokjin proceeds to ask when he’s expected to fly out, and at the sound of the older man’s voice, Sena turns towards the screen with a wide smile on her face.

“Harabeoji!” She squeals, excitedly saying hi to her grandfather.

“Hello, darling,” he chuckles, loving the sweet way his granddaughter calls him. “I’m sorry I’m taking appa’s time away from you. We’ll be done soon, okay?”

“Okay!” She hums, scooting closer towards the screen. “Tete-ah! Yoongi-ah!” She squeals again, earning her laughter and amused greetings from the men she refuses to call uncle. “Hi!”

“Hi, Sena!” Yoongi and Taehyung say in unison.

Not wanting to prolong the meeting, Seokjin proceeds, noting the trip he has to make in a few days and sighing in disappointment at the amount of time he has to be away again. He tries not to show it, agreeing instead to everything his father says.

Sena yawns again and Seokjin tries not to mind it, even when she constantly shifts on his lap, and even when - in her boredom - she turns to him and starts squishing his cheeks, something she'd definitely seen you do. You're no longer by the door and he has to keep himself from laughing and peppering Sena with kisses in adoration. Instead, he gently takes her hands, kisses them, and then shifts her to sit upright and facing front again, hugging her now to keep her in place. She doesn't fuss around, leaning on his chest as if in obedience, and stays put.

The elder Mr. Kim watches in awe. Virtual meetings were not a thing during his time, but he does remember keeping his house office room's door closed when he had to work, knowing either way that none of his kids would dare enter, or ask him to sing lullabies, or ask him to spend time with them, or even bother. Taehyung's kids have made appearances during meetings, too, and as a man who's lived as long as he has, he realizes that one thing all 3 of his children did not take from him is prioritization of their work 24/7, and it's something he's happy about. He's seen how all of his grandchildren adore their parents and are unapologetic and uncaring in asking for their time and attention. Seokjin, Sejeong, and Taehyung didn't grow up that way, perhaps always knowing their place in their parents' lives. But the way his children treat their own children makes him think of the kind of love he wishes he'd shown them; his only consolation is that the little ones extend that love to their grandparents as well.

"We should wrap up this meeting," CEO Kim says. "It's late and someone needs their appa."

"Thank you, father," Seokjin says. "Yoongi will arrange my trip and Taehyung will be the OIC for the week that I'm away."

"Make that 2 weeks," the older man says. "And make that a trip for 3. I take too much of your time away from your family and you and ___ should have a well-deserved short break after all your hard work. I'm sure Sena would love the parks and beaches of California, yes?"

"She would," Seokjin smiles. "She'd love the food, too."

"I'm sure," his father says. "Taehyung can take Hyun-a and the kids to his London trip next month and get a week off as well."

"Thanks, father," Taehyung says now. "But yeah, I'll hold the fort while hyung is away. We'll figure this out."

"Okay, good. Now, all of you go back to your respective families. I'll see you at work on Monday," their father says.

They say their goodbyes, with Sena having life injected back in her when she waves them goodnight. Her yawn is Seokjin's cue that he really needs to get to her bed, so he carries her and walks her back to their bedroom a few doors away, knowing that on most weekends, she prefers sleeping in between you and him.

He lays her down and you awaken, smiling sleepily at the pouty face of the little one who definitely tried to stay up waiting for her father. She might never outgrow the daddy's girl label, you think.

"She was about to doze off when she realized you hadn't come back to bed," you say softly, tucking Sena under the covers. "She'll only ever have you sing her to sleep."

"Thank heavens for my beautiful voice, then," Seokjin chuckles, before proceeding to hum the tune of her favorite lullaby.

He proceeds to sing softly, his heart warming at the content smile of his daughter as she slowly drifts to sleep. As always, her arms and legs are spread out, and you embrace her like you often do so she could feel your warmth before she escapes to dreamland.

Sena falls asleep shortly after, and Seokjin kisses her forehead as a goodnight before he turns to you.

"Father didn't seem to mind that she was there when we were meeting," he says.

"Obviously. That's her granddaughter," you exclaim.

"Yeah, but you know him. He's a family man but when it comes to work, there should be no distractions," he explains. "Tae and Sejeong and I only ever stepped foot in the office once we knew how to behave whereas this princess over here demands to go there because she wants to see where you and I spend time at when we're not with her," he laughs, remembering that time when she had a tantrum and Mrs. Kang had called because the little one wanted to see both of you on a Wednesday morning. "She colors when she sits in meetings, greets everyone like she's the president, and walks around the office like she owns the place."

"She kinda does," you laugh. "But I get it. Your father's just not used to it, I guess. But things have changed. And you and Tae are showing that you're dedicated to your children and that they're as much a part of your life as work is. You're a father and a husband, too. Showing Sena that you could be good at your job while still being there for her means a lot, love. It shows her that she's not second to your responsibilities. And I love you for that."

"I love you for that, too," he responds, taking your hand and kissing it. "I think it's pretty cool that she's developing an interest in food because she gets to see us work."

"She could also pull a Sejeong and do something different," you point out. "But that would be cool, too."

"It would," he smiles. "But speaking of responsibilities, I do have to go to San Francisco to deal with that distribution mess. I leave on Wednesday."

"Oh, okay," you reply, your smile fading, something you hope he doesn't pick up but he does. "I'll have to prep this little one then."

"No need to," he says, surprising you. "You and Sena could come, and I'll have a week off so we can go around. Father said so. I think seeing her be as clingy as she is prompted him to give me a break. So yeah, I'm glad she uncaringly came over and stayed with me for the rest of the meeting."

"Ah, that's great then," you smile, suddenly excited for the week. "I'm sure Director Oh wouldn't mind if I spent 2 weeks away on break, too."

"She wouldn't. She can't, not when I'm her boss."

"Of course. Using your position for our greater good," you laugh. "But thank father for me, too. Spending time with you and Sena is definitely what I need."

.##

#seokjin fluff #Extras:TLODS

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armpirate · 1 month

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Kalla | Choi San || Chapter 21

MASTERLIST Previous || Next

Pairings: CEO!San x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers.

Warnings: dom!San, sub!reader, voyeourism, use of sex toys, bondage, dirty talk, BDSM, exhibitionism, rough sex.

Summary: She was surprised by how fast her life went from the perfect fairytale to the destructive mess it had turned into. Dealing with a cheater ex boyfriend, having to move out to a different place because the house she lived in belonged to that man she once dreamed of spending the rest of her life with, while continuously being underappreciated at work... It was as if life was telling her to stop dreaming big, to go back to her small town, Bibury, and help her parents run the small farm her family had owned for decades.

At least until she received a call from her friend.

A sudden vacancy as an assistant showed up on one of her friend's system, having her being encouraged to take that big step and apply for it. She had no hopes for it. Mainly because she didn't have any experience on the field, and she didn't comply with most of the requirements that were added on the offer -and which most of them sounded ridiculous and exaggerated for the position, making her wonder who was the freak who needed so many guidelines in order to hire someone to pick up the phone and schedule events.

Although that hotel she'd be working on was much more than anything she could've come up with.

Choi San wasn't someone easy to deal with. After his previous assistant presented his resignation letter on his desk, he felt forced to start the whole selection process again -after merely two months.

Sure that he was being way too strict, enough to find that anyone who applied for the position wasn't enough, he asked one of his friends to be in charge of the interviews and the selection of the most adequate candidate.

Little did he know Wooyoung would hire the imperfectly perfect candidate for him, sure that she'd help him in many ways other than just in dealing with the responsibilities of his position.

A new challenge will come their way as soon as she steps inside the hotel.

Y/n will have to learn how to mold onto him and deal with all his small habits and requirements, and San will find himself trying to open up and let out all those same things that turned him into the person he was.

The more she digs in Kalla and all of its secrets and exciting corners, the deeper she'll dive into San's heart and soul... Although, maybe, she won't be able to take it.

Kalla opens its doors to you, sharing the vast amount of filthy and erotic plans it offers, and that you can join with a partner... Or maybe just by yourself.

Hope you enjoy your stay.

Chapter duration: 17 minutes

Her legs felt heavy as they walked across Heathrow, feeling grateful to have chosen those sneakers and the comfortable combination of a t-shirt and jeans, instead of the usual outfits she tended to use while she walked around the hotel. It also surprised her to see San wearing similar clothes to the ones she was wearing, breaking through the constant black pants and vests that she was used to seeing him in.

—You look tired —San pointed out, turning to her for a brief moment while they waited for their cab—. You should go to sleep as soon as we get to the hotel.

—I should've slept in the plane —Y/n pouted, throwing her head back.

—Oh, look at you. Not only speaking in Korean, but also adopting the gestures —he teased her.

—I'm way too tired to fight back. Don't take advantage of that.

—I mean it though. You should take a nap —he advised her—. We won't be doing anything today, so it'd be good if you charged your batteries. You can also take the chance to meet up with your friends and family.

—Five minutes in London, and you're already trying to get rid of me? —her head tilted to the side as she tried to read his features.

—I'll also get ahead and do some things I need to do, and I don't need you there —San explained himself.

Her lips were trapped against one another as she pressed them tight, staring at his wide back under the black thin coat he was wearing, trying to guess what were those things he needed to do, and that didn't need her presence at all. They certainly weren't work related, that was for sure. Because, if that were the case, San would be the first one trying to get her there.

Compared to the past few days they were together, or even an hour before their plane landed, his features were rough, looking tense and uneasy while he walked to the cab waiting for them.

His choice of words wasn't the best, and he was able to see right through them when he noticed how her smile slowly vanished to turn into a straight line that mirrored his serious expression, barely dedicating one look in his direction despite sitting side by side.

Did she have any reason to be mad? She wasn't sure, but somewhere deep in her head she tried to omit that feeling building up in her, knowing that sudden change in him was mainly related to whatever connection he had with the city she was born in. That mix of anger and discomfort was always reflected on his features whenever he mentioned that side of his life, she could quite understand all of it overwhelming him like a big wave once he set foot there.

—Can you take me to Windmill Road in Brentford? —Y/n asked the driver, bending herself a little forward on her seat as if that would change the volume in which she was heard.

If there was anything she needed to do other than sleeping, it was seeing her friends. It had been months since she last saw them, she definitely needed to get back to her roots. And, after what San commented outside the airport, paying a quick visit to her parents was something in her mind.

He could only look at her from his side, feeling stranged at hearing her speaking her native language after, almost, getting used to hearing her defend herself with her special Korean -based, mostly, on phrases and words she had memorized from hearing them.

—Do you want me to send you a cab here? —he tried to suggest.

—One of my friends will drive me to the hotel —Y/n tried to calm him down.

—Is Andrew going to be around?

Y/n didn't discard the idea of her ex boyfriend still roaming around Seoul after almost a week, but she also didn't erase the possibility of him returning back to London and managing to see her there.

Although it wasn't something she thought of deeply. It also wasn't something that worried her. In either case, he was the one wasting time, money and energy.

—I doubt he knows I was coming back —she let him know.

—Call me if something happens.

—I doubt it'll... —she scoffed while pronouncing those words, before his serious words stopped her from ending that sentence.

—Call me if something happens —he repeated, slowly.

His eyes pierced through her until her head moved, nodding to his petition. And, as much as she couldn't quite understand why, she liked how overprotective he was despite his nervousness, and how he still managed to make her and her safety his priority when he clearly had more important things to worry about.

—Don't worry. I'll be with my friends, who are way scarier than you —she finally smiled, grinning while shaking her head.

They could only bow to each other gently when they arrived on the street, with San informing her that he'd take her luggage to the hotel so they would carry it to her hotel room. And she didn't oppose that, the last thing she needed was to carry around a suitcase while trying to explain herself what was going on through her head whenever she thought about her boss.

One last wave, and the cab started driving away from her with San looking back to the front.

Her breathing was heavy as she walked the stone path on the floor after crossing the small and short door to Lizzie's home. If there was someone who could help her keep her thoughts straight, and make some sense out of them, it was definitely her. Rosie would coddle up the most rebellious side of her while encouraging her to do the most mind-blowing idea she'd come up with. Rosie was amazing, but not the friend she'd run to for mature help. And Joanne had enough dealing with the break up. It had been two months, and she could tell her friend was just as heartbroken as the day she left.

Two knocks at the front door and a loud scream had her whole body squirming and jumping, looking strangely at the white wooden surface before it opened widely to reveal the wide smile on her friend's face.

—My baby —she celebrated, rushing to wrap her arms around her.

It was a nickname she certainly missed. Despite being only four years apart, Lizzie always managed to highlight the fact that they met when she was almost a kid and she was already a teen with one step in uni.

—I'm only four years younger than you, don't mess with me —her voice sounded muffled against the thick jumper her friend was wearing.

—Come on in —Liz ignored her, dragging her inside her home—. Why didn't you tell us you were coming? Oh my god, I missed you so much.

Before Y/n could answer her question, her arms were wrapped around her again, keeping her from speaking, or even making a sound.

—Do you want a cup of tea? I'll make you a cup of tea —she quickly answered to herself on Y/n's behalf.

Keeping up with Lizzie whenever she entered that rush space was difficult, almost something Y/n and the rest of her friends gave up on because there was no way to find some space to speak. It was better to let all that rush to die by itself, just like it did when Lizzie returned with two cups of tea, sitting next to her on the couch with a bread smile.

It was always nice to speak with her when she calmed down.

They both were on the same page professionally, both having similar backgrounds and areas of work, so when it came to reaching for professional advice, Lizzie was the one to go to.

Their conversation flowed from one experience to another, going from talking how Liz had a huge fight with her boss -which ended with her giving a raise to her friend-, while Y/n only felt comfortable speaking about how difficult it was adapting to Seoul at first, and how she slowly was loving the experience.

—Wait —Lizzie interrupted her when she was about to start talking about San.

—For what? —Y/n frowned— Why are you looking at the window so much? You're starting to make me nervous.

—Nothing, nothing —Lizzie's hand laid a few pats on her knee—. Is the weather nice in Seoul? —she casually asked.

—For now, yeah —she muttered—. Winter is about to start, but that's not really what I wanted to talk about right now.

She found herself being interrupted again, only by the doorbell ringing. Lizzie's smile told her everything she needed to know and, unless she was expecting a delivery she was looking forward to, her big mouth told the rest of the girls she was there while she was in the kitchen preparing the tea.

And she hated how much she knew her friends. Because as soon as that thought crossed her mind, Joanne and Rosie crossed the door.

The house turned from a calm environment to loud giggles and screams as soon as they walked in, and Y/n couldn't explain how much she missed all of that while a big smile started forming on her face.

Having them around was like going back three months, when all of them were inseparable to the point of doing everything together.

—Now that we spoke about general things —Rosie commented after they all caught up with one another's lives—, go to the interesting part that you kept avoiding on calls and that you were about to tell Liz.

—It's not interesting.

—Fucking your boss isn't interesting? —Joanne almost interrupted, her words overlapping Y/n's.

—No —she muttered—, fucking him twice is.

—Oh my fucking god —Rosie exclamed with a smile.

—Oh my god —Joanne and Liz whispered at the same time.

—Mystery sex again?

—No —Y/n shook her head—. We were both aware of who we were with.

—This is more interesting than the time I went on a date with that rockstar —Rosie giggled—. Tell us more, give us details. We want everything!

—There isn't much to tell —she played with her fingers.

—How not? Liar —Joanne called her out—. You're looking down like you always do when you lie.

—Bitch, we know you like we gave birth to you —Lizzie continued—. So start speaking by yourself.

—You won't judge me?

—We don't judge Rosie, and that says a lot —Liz continued.

—Well... We're both... you know... really attracted to each other. Like really —she scratched her nape—. Neither of us understand why or how, but it is what it is. But we aren't dating.

—Good for you. Getting in a relationship now would be a mistake —Rosie patted her back.

—But we're in a relationship. Well, not a relationship per se. It's definitely not the typical one. We don't go around holding hands and having heart eyes to each other.

—Y/n, cut the crap and go straight to the point —Joanne called her out.

—It's a special relationship —her head tilted to the side while explaining herself.

—Shit —Rosie mumbled—. He's married and you're the other one.

—No, no! Fuck, no —Y/n rushed to deny—. After being through that, I would never put another woman in that position because of me. A million times no.

—Then fucking tell us what it is —Rosie rushed her to continue.

—Do you remember when that Fifty Shades of Grey wave started and everyone turned out to be into that kinky stuff out of nowhere? —her lips were pressed together— Seems like it caught me a few years later.

—So does he tie you up and make you call him daddy? —Rosie joked.

It started as a joke, but Y/n's serious expression while admitting her guilty pleasure had the three of them turning as serious as her.

—Oh shit, he does —Lizzie almost giggled at that.

—Not really —Y/n commented—. At least not for now. But we're both having that type of relationship. It isn't serious, and we made sure to leave clear we aren't exclusive. So it's jsut fun for now.

—I'm so proud of you —Rosie celebrated, body bouncing on the couch.

—I really want to meet him —Joanne almost laughed while admitting that.

—He knows what he's doing, right? —Lizzie asked.

—Oh, sure he does. His hotel is even themed after that.

—Oh my lord, we love one kinky ass man —Rosie clapped—. So what does he do? Does he take you to a red room when you don't transfer calls properly?

—Now I really want to meet him —Joanne repeated with a wide smile.

—We just started —Y/n quickly shut down—. And yes —she answered, looking at Lizzie—, he's really careful and cautious.

—It's not like the bar was too high after Andy, but he seems like a good deal —Joanne shrugged.

—Don't speak about Andy —Y/n sighed—. He went all the way to Seoul to try to get me back.

—That asshole did what? —Lizzie jumped out— Now I understand the twenty missing calls out of nowhere —she sighed.

—He showed up in the hotel, and in my house —Y/n shook her head—. Thank god San was there the two times it happened.

—A savior knight in latex armor —Rosie winked at her, making Y/n roll her eyes.

If Y/n had known that juicy update on her life would follow up to her friend coming up with going out that night, she wouldn't have said a thing. The last thing she wanted was to go out and party, especially considering how tired she was from the trip.

***

It always made him feel tense to surround the places he used to be at before he was forced back to Seoul. He never really wanted to go back there, with his main plan being remodeling his mother's house to live there and building up Kalla in one area she kept dreaming about. It infuriated him to think it was something that he'd never have the chance to see happening, because he was tied to all the problems he kept carrying in Korea, to all the issues his father kept generating.

His shoes dragged on the floor, feeling the small stones and dust on the sole, while he looked around at the place, before supporting his back against the wide arch that led to the living room.

Just the thought of his mother spending the last few days of her life there, alone, made his blood boil. All those years he went looking for her in the short spare times he had in between jobs, only to find out he'd have never been on time to see her. His mother slowly faded alone, by herself, holding onto the idea of seeing her son again, but he took way too long to take the decision of breaking off from his father and go out to look for her.

Just like he used to do when he lived there, he hid himself inside one of the pubs, taking his time with the glass of whiskey served in front of him, while he let regrets and remorse get over him. He kept biting the skin on his inner lip, moving his tongue behind it shortly after, while his finger tapped over the curve of the short glass, ignoring the rhythm of the music as he came up with his own rhythm.

It was always like that, and it was always the only way to get himself distracted.

Until he saw a familiar figure from the distance, followed by a cackly and happy laugh that had his spine straight while looking around the pub to focus on the woman he illogically set his eyes on.

Y/n was a happy pill, there was no doubt of that. And he could easily tell by the way her lips never formed a straight line ever since he first started admiring her from the counter. She was such a restless ass as well, always moving, always dancing, always doing something other than staying still. And he loved the energy she radiated while her arms moved in the air.

Their eyes briefly connected among the few people standing in between them, and he knew she wasn't going to approach him first.

It didn't matter, because her friends did it for her after she mumbled something while lowering her head.

—So this is mister Choi San —the auburn short woman of the group spoke first when she first chose to interrupt the cycle of thoughts in his head—. Don't ask how I know, Y/n has spoken loads about you. You have no idea.

Before her eyes could lower any more on his body, she was pulled away by Y/n.

—Holy fuck —she whispered when brought back to the group.

—I'm sorry, I told them not to walk to you, but they didn't listen —Y/n tried to apologize—. We'll get going again.

—Why? I'm not bothered —he stopped her.

—That's what we told her —Joanne continued—. We saw you so lonely, that we thought: How can we not go to this man and keep him company?

—San, seriously, it isn't a good idea —Y/n tried to convince him in Korean.

—Using another language in the presence of people is of poor education —Lizzie called her out.

Y/n could do nothing but facepalm herself when she saw Rosie pulling San out of the space he was occupying, to drag him to the table they were sitting at. San, who loved his personal space even when he was in the Spadix. Yet it was more surprising to see him just walking with them, following her friend while Joanne picked up his glass to take it to their table.

—Y/n has already told us you're a really good boss —Y/n's eyebrows raised threateningly at Lizzie's comment.

—Really? I had the idea I was too rough on her.

—She likes it rough, by what it seems —Rosie grimaced shortly after, with Y/n's sneaker kicking her leg.

—Don't you have a friend? Or a brother? A cousin? —Joanne asked, receiving a slap from Y/n.

The teasing lasted less than she expected. It only took them some shots and their favorite song to shift their attention from San to the improvised dance floor they created, while San and Y/n stayed at their table, watching them from afar.

—I'm sorry about this morning —he whispered, turning to her.

—It's alright —she tried to shrug it off, but she knew San wasn't going to be so easy on himself.

—I didn't mean I didn't want you there, just that I needed time for myself.

Having someone apologizing for something so small, and that she didn't even have in mind since it happened felt different from what she was used to. It was an emotional responsibility she wasn't used to seeing. And she could tell how he meant those words by the way his jaw clenched just by remembering the tone.

—And you casually ended up here, huh? —her eyebrow lifted, trying to change the topic to a lighter one.

—Oh no —he quickly tried to shut down—. I didn't...

But her smile brushed away any worry crossing his mind.

—I know, I was kidding —she shook her head—. Although it's curious. London is so big, yet we ended up in the same place.

—Sometimes it seems like we're forced to be together.

Although he thought more like she always showed up when he needed that boost the most, almost as if it was done on purpose.

—What did you do today?

Without answering, she pointed at her group of friends, with Joanne and Lizzie rubbing against each other, while Rosie was on a random man sitting in one of the tables.

—My batteries are crying for help after a whole day with them —she admitted—. What about you?

—I've been... visiting some old friends, too.

—I hope it was good —she mentioned, placing her hand on his forearm over his black jacket.

—I'm better now —he admitted, making her smile grow bigger—. So, is this what you do when you're out?

—Well, Joanne also did this —she took a sip of her drink—. Staring at the two crackheads and hoping they don't do something that meant us involving ourselves. We were the ones with a serious and stable relationship, so we were like the cops of the group.

—And now you're the only cop, I see.

—I could be doing that —she assured him—. I swear.

—I'm the one keeping you here, right? —he teased her.

—Well, it's good you're seeing it for yourself.

—Please, don't let me hold you back —he asked her—. Go ahead and dance.

—I would —her tongue clicked—. Of course I would. But I'm not going to, because I need to keep some professionalism in front of my boss.

—Kitten, I think that word flew out of the window the day I fingered you in my office —he bent towards her—. Besides, as much as I want to see you dancing and fuck you later loud enough for everyone in the hotel to hear, your eyes are almost closing —his finger softly brushed one lock of hair away from her forehead—. You need to take that rest your stubborn ass didn't take. I need you in full shape for tomorrow.

—For the meeting or for something else you have planned? —she giggled, words almost mumbled.

—Both.

A few minutes later, and with Y/n's eyelids almost closing with every breath she took, San apologized to her friends when he told them they were going to leave, excusing them over the fact that he needed Y/n present in the next day's meeting.

Neither of her friends fought against it too much, only making Y/n promise them they'd meet again to say goodbye properly.

As he walked ahead of her, he suddenly felt something pulling from the sleeve of his jacket, finding Y/n holding a tight grip on the fabric to follow his steps.

Her head started moving in sync with the movements of the cab, until San moved his shoulder a bit closer to her to give her the stable surface she needed to finally sleep on the way to their hotel. And he didn't wake her up when they arrived either, picking her up and carrying her until he arrived in her room. He managed to take off her jacket, to take off her shoes, and admire her for a few seconds while she slept, hoping he could get infected with some of the peace that evoked from her, before he realized what he was going and walked out of her room.

There was something strange in the way he felt around her, but he liked it a little bit too much.

Taglist: @brown88

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messy-does-cosmology · 8 months

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OK so I've had some plans for my new year's resolutions this year and so far they are going well-ish. But I thought I would post some of my experiences here since I love reading about other people doing it!

This is mostly focused on goals to do with trying to get better from my serious depression, which has been haunting me since about summer 2022, when my childhood friend killed herself. Anyway um reminder not to do that. Your life touches so many people, you have no idea the number of people who love you and who would drop everything to help. Killing yourself may be easier than changing your life into one you want to live, but it is also much much worse.

In January I am doing yoga every day (following the YWA challenge, which I also did last year and continued on for several months after). So far, I haven't missed a day or even postponed a day. I can't promise that won't happen but so far so good! Honestly I'm a natural procrastinator, and at first the positions were just as hard and uncomfortable as they were when I first started, but now I massively look forward to it every day! I am extremely bad at doing it significantly before bed though, and I'm lucky that it doesn't seem to have affected my sleep goals much.

I'm also doing Dry January, which, ngl, is pretty easy for me. It's much harder for my partner, who enjoys alcohol a lot and has definite alcoholic tenancies. Dry January really tends to reset our drinking as a couple though, and get us to be more intentional with it for at least a few months afterwards. We're also going to do stoptober this year, and I think it will be great to have another "firebreak" in the year for drinking.

Me and my partner both got FitBits in November/December, and they have been really life changing in terms of the amount of exercise we do now, and our habits. My partner is also able to see the direct impact that drinking has on his health metrics (like HRV). I have learned that my HRV is absolute garbage, and idk why lol.

My final goal for January was to stick to a regular sleep schedule. This is going pretty well so far. For context, my usual sleep schedual was very unhelpful. I would go to bed at wildly varying times, same with waking up, I would sometimes only fall asleep at like 6am, I would sleep until 3pm regularly. It was miserable, and terrible for my mental health. I have only had two slip ups this month, one where I woke up at almost 1pm, and one where I went to sleep at around 2:50am or so (still so much better than before!!). Honestly this one has been the hardest, but having a fitbit to keep me accountable has really helped.

Another thing I have found extremely helpful this month is a supplement called L-glutamine. Because of my diet, my very very bad disordered diet, I basically get no nutrients anyway. I have tried taking supplements before, but they have never had this much of an impact! L-glutamine is just an amino acid which is fuel for your gut biome and helps you recover faster from exercise. It seems to have helped with so much more though! I am more awake, my hunger signals are more normal and less deathly painful, and my body feels much better able to cope with the increased exercise I'm getting (we moved house, so I am now either walking 40 mins or biking to work instead of the bus, so lots more exercise overall). Honestly couldn't reccomend enough. I would say if you get some though, get the powder version and not the capsules. In order to get an adequate dose per day, you need to take loads of capsules, around 15g of the powder. I mix the powder with fizzy drinks (I know) and just drink it. A little gritty at first, but I got used to it fast.

#January Update #Mac's 2024 depression assblasting

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karyacemplon · 1 month

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Week 4: Reflection

Just a quick question: When you watch a show, do you often interpret the meanings behind each episode and gain new learnings? Well, I for sure did with the show I watched in week three. Somehow, I can picture myself as the main character, in terms of growth and development, to become a better version of myself through continuous reflection. As someone who previously did not really bother reflecting, I find this blog somewhat therapeutic and eye-opening, encouraging me to reflect more on and in action.

Quick side note: if you figure out the show, hit that like button 😄 (It is a detective/crime and celestial-themed series)

What?

Week three was characterised by feeling lost. Meanwhile, week four was still filled with uncertainty, with a tinge of lack of productivity. I conducted and collated information within week four; however, I felt exhausted for the whole week and had started the cycle of binge eating once more. Truth be told, I felt as though I had neglected my well-being, but I feel that this is not justifiable to the progress of development.

Despite this, I have gathered insights from both the questionnaire and interviews, which has been very helpful in ideating as I have a foundation on which to depend. I am quite disappointed that I did not do this process in the early stages as I feel that this would have significantly helped me. With the overall idea in mind, I just need to get the top three ideas and, finally, a chosen idea… Which I should say, that the process is setting me on fire.

So What?

I feel a bit more hopeful this week! However, the rating so far is still a 4/10 🙂. When I look into why I am experiencing difficulties in choosing an idea, I see a pattern of not being satisfied with my ideas and feeling as though it is not adequate. Again, I have discussed this in week two, as a symptom of perfectionism. However, a new kind of consequence has appeared–unproductivity. Following up on the research by Kwarcińska et al. (2022) I discovered about perfectionism, I might not be experiencing a burn-out; however, a deeper amount of stress (personally, of both assignments, external factors and the lack of sleep).

I believe that in week three I had based most of my decisions on my emotional state, not logically or what is right. However, despite feeling this way, I have been seeking feedback when needed with the stream tutor and my peers at times. This way helps me keep in track of my progress so far, and bonus I get insights to optional trips that might be useful as research. In general, I need to be better in handling my wellbeing to achieve a desirable progress outcome. This might be difficult, but there are several ways I can improve starting with creating a better plan to overcome or leverage perfectionism.

Now What?

“Now What?” is what I often exclaim to myself when I am stuck and panicking. Whilst pacing the room back and forth, one hand on my forehead and another clenching a chocolate bar (haha). For the past two weeks, I have been implementing my perfectionism overrule plan, which seemed to have worked but not at the same time. After two weeks of trial, I decided to modify the plan and make it much better by following a toolkit I found by Anxiety Canada (n.d.). Within this guide, there are three primary steps: Recognising perfectionism, using tools to overcome and rewarding myself.

Of course, I will not be following the toolkit step by step; instead, I will modify it to fit my characteristics. I realised that I have been thinking in a perfectionistic mindset, only regarding situations and black and grey, overthinking and underestimating my capabilities. Moving on, I believe having some time to step back and reflect on my thoughts is necessary to understand if I am being reasonable or just falling into perfectionistic tendencies. Overall, I believe that I need to get into an anti-perfectionistic mindset to prevent this from re-occurring. To embed positive and realistic statements, such as reminding myself that I am always trying my best.

I need to confront my fears and find out why, in the first place, I am perfectionistic. Perhaps due to the pressure I put on myself to make my parents proud? Being competitive? Reflecting on these aspects and talking about them with my friends allows me to get a clear perspective. In which, I had this conversation before, and it is safe to say that I am on track and everything is okay. I can not compare myself to others constantly when everyone has different work paces. Thus, I believe that combining my initial plan of looking into a smaller yet bigger perspective–including setting weekly tasks–along with embracing this new mindset will be helpful in breaking the never-ending cycle of perfectionism.

Stay tuned for the next updates! 🕺

References

Anxiety Canada. (n.d.). How to Overcome Perfectionism. Anxiety Canada. https://www.anxietycanada.com/sites/default/files/Perfectionism.pdf

Kwarcińska, K., Sanna, M. K., Nowotnik, K. A., Piotrowski, K. (2022). Perfectionism in theory and research. Przegląd Psychologiczny 65(3):97-112. DOI: 10.31648/przegldpsychologiczny.8803

#Te Kitenga #des302week4 #capstone

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decoysouled · 4 months

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'i love you' prompts // accepting. @starliit // 'did you get enough sleep?' - for aether

FOR A MOMENT, Aether worries whether his lack of rest is obvious — not sleep, per se, for he seeks it out most nights ( except for when they can't, when they're busy enough they don't have a moment to spare for sleep, simply pushing forward until they're swaying on their feet & can barely distinguish the days ) but relaxtion was what eludes him, regardless of how much sleep he has had.

He has found that no cup of tea nor any amount of time staring up at the skies brings him peace any longer. Even his sleep has become restless, filled with memories he wishes he could hide away from & his daydreams are plagued with visions of ancient pasts he has yet to discover. No amount of attempting to unwind would ever take the lessons of this world away from him.

( no other world has left them feeling as if everything they have done was for everything & nothing all at once. )

Aether does not relay his train to thought of Kaveh — there is no place amongst friends to do so, for positivity is all he finds he can offer these days & so he will keep all emotion aside from joy under lock & key, not unlike an infection living within his very soul — & instead offers a small smile, the sort of which he hopes does not reveal his weariness.

❝I think I should be asking you that, really.❞ He points out, a softness to it that he hopes adequately displays some sort of care or concern in the midst of a bone-deep exhaustion he tries his best to keep out of his voice. ❝I've been getting more than enough sleep, recently, really. I'd hope I don't look that tired.❞ Then again, Aether wonders if there has ever been a time since he left Liyue that he hasn't looked tired in some form.

❝Have you been doing alright, Kaveh?❞

#002. ❝transmissions: down with the fallen.❞ — answered #& fandom — genshin impact #100. ❝like i’m trapped inside a wrong dimension.❞ — aether #101. ❝i know life is a journey.❞ — V1 ( traveller )#starliit

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years

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How about 12. pushing a strand of hair behind their ear or 18. squishing the other’s cheek for the touching ask game!

touches prompt list

i did number 12! a little continuation of my no-entities au where only jon works at the institute and jon and martin are married and own a cat (which is here but you definitely don't have to have read it to read this!). cw for brief mention of canon-typical stranger content (in a non-canon-typical context)

Martin wakes to sunlight streaming in through the window, a slight crick in his neck, and a pair of intense brown eyes staring into his.

“Hey,” Martin mumbles, closing his eyes and snuggling a bit deeper into his pillow. He opens his mouth to speak again but his words are swallowed instead by a yawn.

“Hello,” Jon says softly. His voice is still ragged with sleep, lower than usual and a bit breathy. Martin adores it.

A hand ghosts against Martin’s cheek, and he cracks an eye open.

Jon smiles and traces his fingers along Martin’s cheekbone, the shell of his ear, the soft slant of his jaw. His expression is almost reverent, like he thinks Martin has hung the moon in the sky and lit the stars on fire beside it.

“Good morning to you too,” Martin says with a small, fond smile. Then, after Jon continues to look at him with open tenderness, all warm sunlight and pleasant harmonies and soft edges: “Can I help you?”

Jon hums. “What do you mean?”

Martin feels his breath hitch as Jon’s thumb brushes against the corner of his mouth. “You’re staring, love.”

Jon’s expression turns bashful, as it always does when Martin uses that particular pet name. “Am I not allowed to admire my darling husband?”

Martin isn’t sure which word makes him blush more: darling or husband. “Oh, no—you are. Highly encouraged, even. Just … wanted to know if there was an occasion. O-or if there’s something on my face.”

“No occasion.” Carefully, Jon tucks a strand of hair behind Martin’s ear, letting the tips of his fingers linger against the soft, sensitive skin there. “I just … thought you looked rather lovely this morning.”

The flush spreads across Martin’s face and to the tips of his ears, where Jon can surely feel it. “We’ve been married for almost three years, Jon. You don’t have to keep trying to win me over.”

“Mm, I have to disagree.” Jon leans forward and presses a kiss to Martin’s now-exposed temple. “It’s precisely because we’ve been married for so long that I ought to tell you how wonderful you are, and how much I appreciate you, and how much I love you.” He places another kiss on the top of Martin’s cheek. “I wouldn’t want you to forget, after all.”

Martin’s face could probably cook an egg by this point. “And to think, when we first met, I thought you weren’t the kind of person to have emotions.”

Jon’s nose wrinkles slightly, which is adorable. “Of course I have emotions, Martin.”

“Well, I know that now.” Martin reaches blindly for Jon’s other hand until he finds it and squeezes it gently. “You’re a hopeless romantic, through and through.”

“I can’t believe you ever thought otherwise,” Jon says with exaggerated offense. “I was never exactly subtle.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Martin laughs softly and brushes a kiss of his own against Jon’s nose. “You were saying that I’m lovely?”

Jon hums and squeezes Martin’s hand. “I was. And if I ever stop doing do, please assume that I’ve been … replaced by a monster that has tricked you into thinking it’s me by stealing my skin or … something of the sort. ”

“You,” Martin says, “have been spending too much time watching horror movies with Tim.”

“I have been spending a perfectly reasonable amount of time watching horror movies with Tim, and I resent any implications otherwise.”

Jon has an adorable little pout on his lips. He looks extremely kissable at the moment. Martin brushes the corner of Jon’s mouth with his thumb, cradles Jon’s face gently, and leans in.

And nearly gets a mouthful of fur as Clarence loudly and boldly asserts himself between them.

“Oh!” Jon says as Clarence chirps happily and bumps his head against Jon’s forehead. “Hello, Clarence. How are you this morning?”

Clarence meows and bumps his head against Jon’s face again.

“I’m glad to hear it. Getting proper rest is very important for a gentleman of your age, after all.” Jon scratches underneath Clarence’s chin. “Almost two years old!”

Clarence meows louder and turns to stare at Martin intently.

“I think he’s hungry,” Martin says, amused.

“Yes, yes—he’s a growing man.” Jon pets the space between Clarence’s ears. “Is your bowl empty? You’ve been very good this morning—I believe we have some wet food in the fridge. How does that sound?”

Jon sits up. The moment his lap is available, Clarence immediately jumps onto it and starts kneading his paws up and down contentedly. Jon makes a sound Martin could only describe as cooing as he gathers Clarence in his arms and stands, adjusting his grip so that the cat is held securely and safely. Clarence still seems to want to make it his personal mission to climb onto Jon’s shoulders. He wriggles determinedly and manages to get his paws settled on Jon’s shoulder with his face pressed right up against Jon’s cheek. The sight makes something warm and affectionate squeeze in Martin’s stomach; he wants to freeze time and teach himself how to paint just so he can adequately capture the image in front of him.

“What are your plans for the day?” Jon murmurs as he walks away, cradling Clarence close to his chest. “I’m sure you have many important catly duties to attend to.”

An agreeable mmrp is the last sound Martin hears before Jon disappears through the bedroom door and the sounds of his gentle babbles to the cat fade into the background. Martin lies in bed for a few moments more, staring at the open doorway and thinking to himself just how lucky he is that he gets to have this. Then, he stands, stretches, and follows Jon out into the kitchen.

He still owes his husband a kiss, after all.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #my fic #my writing #ombreblossom #(i am planning on writing the other one in this ask as well <3)#sorry this took so long!

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gamergirl929 · 4 years

Text

Expecto Patronum (Hermione Granger x Reader)

After following a number of Gryffindor students sneaking out of the Common Room one night, you inevitably stumble upon the DA and are quick to join their cause.

However, you soon find a spell you can’t quiet master, a spell that requires something that you don’t have, something that, with the help of Hermione Granger, you’re able to acquire.

“Bloody hell.” You mumble, sighing in exasperation as you flop to the Room of Requirement’s floor, your eyes narrowed.

You stumbled upon Dumbledore’s Army by chance one night when you saw a number of Gryffindor's sneaking out one night and decided to follow.

Following them was the best decision you’d ever made, because it brought you purpose, something you felt you lacked in your daily life.

You were rather quiet, though you’d caught one member of the DA’s attention, and that member was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived himself.

You hadn’t had the best upbringing, something the two of you shared, and something that brought the two of you closer together.

Soon you and the boy were good friends, and being good friends with Harry meant you were friends with his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

Ron was goofy, a bit dense at time, but he was fun to be around, and that was enough for you.

Hermione Granger on the other hand, was one of the brightest women you’d ever met, she adept at magic, excelling well above you and the others in the DA.

She was all too happy to aid you in casting certain spells when she saw you were struggling.

The specific spell you were currently having trouble casting, was Expecto Patronum, your Patronus refusing to take form no matter how hard you tried.

You huff, dropping your wand to the stone floor.

“This is hopeless.”

***

The following morning you’re barely able to keep your eyes, rubbing the heels of your palms into your bloodshot Y/E/C eyes.

“You look right knackered.”

You pick your head up, smiling when Ron takes a seat across from you at The Great Hall.

“You alright?” Harry asks, worried and you nod.

“Just didn’t sleep much.”

“Or at all.” Hermione says as she takes a seat beside you and you shake your head, your cheeks flushing.

“N-N-No, just didn’t get enough.”

Hermione stares at you inquisitively, her brown orbs narrowed.

You knew she knew you were lying, but you’d decided to keep up the ruse anyway.

“So, r-ready for Potions today?” You ask, taking a swig of your Pumpkin Juice and Ron scoffs.

“Who’s ever ready for Potions with Snape?” He snickers, his eyes widening when the aforementioned professor walks by, using a piece of parchment in his hand to smack Ron in the head.

You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter, as Ron pouts, rubbing the back of his head.

“Stop laughing you git.”

Hermione meanwhile is still looking at you inquisitively, wondering what it was that kept you up so late, and why you were so adamant about changing the subject.

She hums, taking a sip of her juice.

If you weren’t going to tell her what was going on, she’d find out on her own.

***

Hermione frowns when the light from your wand flickers out, the spell yet again failing.

“It’s alright Y/N, you just have to find a happy memory to focus on.” She runs a gentle hand down your back.

You swallow hard, nodding.

“I-I know...” You murmur softly, head hanging in defeat.

Hermione gives you an apologetic smile.

“We’ll get it Y/N, together.”

You turn to Hermione, a warmth spreading throughout your chest as you look at the Gryffindor who’s sending you the sweetest smile you’d ever seen.

“Together?” You ask and she nods, slipping an arm around you, before giving you a squeeze.

“Together.”

***

It was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were exhausted, and incredibly agitated.

You had, again, forgone sleep to practice on conjuring your Patronus, but you again, had failed.

The DA weren’t meeting that night, which gave you the opportunity to head into the Room of Requirement on your own to practice the spell.

You WOULD master it, no matter what it took, you WOULD find a memory to focus on, no matter what.

***

Hermione eventually finds you later that day, your head buried in a book in the library, though it’s not because you’re reading, it’s because you’re fast asleep.

She tiptoes over to you, the girl silently taking a seat beside you, smiling when she realizes you’re snoring softly.

She shakes her head, opening up the book she’d brought with her, ready for the world around her to melt away.

You mumble in your sleep, pulling Hermione’s attention away from the world currently resting in her hands and back to reality.

If she were being honest, you had a habit of drawing her attention, you were an enigma, and Hermione was never the type to leave a mystery unsolved.

***

The snarl that leaves you is absolutely feral as you throw your wand across the room.

“WHY CAN’T I FORM A PATRONOUS.” You say angrily.

You’re so angry in fact that you completely miss the Room of Requirement’s door creaking open, and Hermione Granger slipping inside.

You run your hands down your face as you stomp towards your wand.

Hermione crosses her arms across her chest as she watches you flick your wand.

“EXPECTO PATRONOUM!” You yell, growling when your wand’s tip doesn’t even light.

Hermione frowns as you flick your wand over and over again, growling the spell each and every time growing angrier and angrier.

It’s only after that, that you spot Hermione, your eyes widening in shock.

“He-Hermione.” You stutter, clearing your throat, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“How long have you been standing there?” You ask, unable to look at the girl who moves closer to you.

“Long enough... This is why you’ve been so tired lately?” She asks and you sigh flopping to the floor, your back resting against the wall next to the fireplace.

“I can’t do it.” You sigh, your chin resting on your knee caps.

Hermione takes a seat in front of you, as you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat.

“What’s holding you back?”

Your eyes flutter shut, your chest tightening.

“I don’t have any.”

Hermione’s brows furrow, the girl scooting closer.

“Any what?” She whispers and you sigh.

“Happy memories.”

Hermione frowns sadly.

“Harry and I had a...”

You pause.

“A similar upbringing.”

Hermione scoots towards you until she’s sitting beside you.

“What happened?”

You swallow hard.

“Didn’t know my folks, I got my letter in a group home.”

You fall silent after that, your head moving to rest on Hermione’s shoulder, the action making her cheeks flush bright pink.

Nonetheless, she rests her head on top of yours.

“Sometimes, we have to make our own memories.” Hermione whispers and you smile, warmth yet again spreading throughout your chest.

“Yeah, yeah we do.”

***

That night you actually get some sleep, mostly because Hermione basically drags you to the Gryffindor Common Room and forces you to get some ACTUAL sleep.

The following morning you feel lighter than you ever had before, maybe because you finally got an adequate amount of sleep, or maybe it was because of the moment you spent with Hermione in the Room of Requirement.

Your cheeks flush, your eyes doubling in size.

“That’s it.” You whisper to yourself with a massive grin.

You make your way into The Great Hall, smiling when your eyes catch sight of a familiar head of bushy brown hair, its owner turning to you with a beaming smile.

“You look rested.” Hermione winks and you shake your head, cheeks dusted pink.

"Yeah, well you made sure of that.”

“Yeah, Hermione has a way of forcing people to do things they’re putting off.” Ron mumbles and Hermione scoffs.

“Is this about the Potion’s homework? You needed to get it done Ronald.”

Ron scoffs.

“Yeah, but you didn’t need to come into the Boy’s Dormitory and wake me up using Aquamanti!”

You slap a hand over your mouth, but are unable to bite back your laughter.

“Yeah! Laugh it up! Thought Fred and George had threw me out in the marsh around The Burrow again!”

Hermione giggles.

“He did scream rather loud.”

Hermione leans against you as she giggles harder than you’d ever seen, Ron unable to bite back his laughter at the girl’s case of the giggles.

You fall silent, instead choosing to stare at the girl beside you, the girl whose giggles are finally beginning to taper off.

You smile, Hermione’s words from the night before echoing in your head.

“Sometimes we have to make our own memories.”

Hermione falls silent, her brown orbs widening when she realizes you’re staring.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” She asks and you nod, your smile splitting into a grin.

“I am.” You shrug, taking a sip of your Pumpkin Juice.

“Just making my own memories.”

Hermione grins, cheeks tinged pink as she gives you a nudge, the girl leaning against you through the remainder of breakfast.

***

“You can do this Y/N, remember, happy memory.” Harry pats your back and you nod, taking a deep breath.

Weeks of trying to search for a single happy memory you had hidden deep within your brain had resulted in failure, but now, with thoughts of the Gryffindor girl standing beside you running through your mind, you knew, you knew this was it.

You glance at Hermione, earning a nod.

“I believe in you.” She whispers, your heart skipping a beat in your chest.

You grin, twirling your wand in between your fingers.

The remainder of the DA watches as you hold out your wand, the words that had been leaving your mouth for weeks now, yet again passing through your lips, though with a bit more confidence than usual.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

Light bursts from the tip of your wand, the blue bright light swirling through the air as it takes form.

Your smile splits in a grin as a bright blue massive wolf forms before you, head held high in confidence, the epitome of strength.

It runs around the room before it stops in front of you.

The beast nuzzles against your palm until your stroke it’s fur, Hermione grinning, as she watches you interact with your Patronus, after trying so hard to get it to form.

“You’ve done it.” She whispers and you smile.

The massive wolf leaves you and prances to Hermione, nudging her hand with its nose until she strokes its head, the wolf licking her palm.

You huff.

“You like her more than me?” You ask, the wolf yipping as it vanishes in thin air.

“Blimey, what’s a wolf mean?!” Ron whispers to Harry, the two boys smiling when you launch yourself at Hermione, the two of you grinning, arms wrapped tightly around one another.

“Strength. Loyalty.” Luna whispers.

Meanwhile, Hermione squeezes you tightly.

“I knew you could do it.”

You grin.

“I just had to make my own happy memories, memories I made with you.”

The two of you reluctantly part, your eyes widening when you realize the two of you are rather close to one another, your noses inches apart.

You blink slowly, your cheeks flushed bright red.

“Uh...”

Hermione’s cheeks mirror your own, the two of you abruptly turning away from one another, both nervously fidgeting.

“Th-Thanks Mione, I couldn’t have done it without you, li-literally.” You stutter, shuffling nervously from foot to foot.

Harry claps his hands suddenly, the boy grinning.

“I think that’s a perfect way to end practice, see you all Friday night.”

The DA’s members slowly make their way out of the room, stopping to congratulate you until it’s just you, Ron, Harry and Hermione.

“That was absolutely brilliant mate.” Ron says as he claps your shoulder,

“Fantastic.”

Harry glances at Hermione out of the corner of his eye, his blue orbs narrowing when he sees the look of nervousness on Hermione’s face.

Harry gives his best friend a pat on the back.

“We should get back to the common room, mate.”

Ron nods, turning to you and Hermione.

“You coming?” He asks, though before you can answer, Hermione does.

“Actually, I’d like a moment alone with Y/N.”

The boy’s wave, taking their leave moments later, but not before Harry can send his old friend a wink, the girl sending him a glare.

The Room of Requirement’s door bangs shut, leaving you and Hermione alone for the first time all day.

“I can’t thank you enough Mione, I-” You stop midsentence when you see her nervously fidgeting.

Hermione’s gaze drops to the floor as you move closer, the girl’s eyes fluttering shut.

You weren’t used to seeing her so nervous around you, she’d typically been much like the books she was so fond of reading, and that was entirely open.

“Hermione... Whatever it is, we can-

You again fall silent, though this time it’s because Hermione’s brown orbs have finally locked with yours.

“Li-Listen...” She swallows hard, wringing her fingers nervously.

“I’ve never been good when it comes to relationships, I’ve never really BEEN in a relationship, I mean I talked to Victor Krum, but that doesn’t matter, we never dated, we-

Hermione rambles on, her hands flailing wildly.

“I’ve... I’ve never felt this way about, about a girl and I just-

You tune out, your eyes widening and cheeks flushing.

Hermione meanwhile is still rambling on, jumping from topic to topic.

“I just- I really like you and I- I'm not used to things like this, like I said I’ve never-

Hermione stills, brown orbs wide and hands frozen in mid-air as your lips brush hers, the touch delicate, as well as hesitant.

You pull back, your eyes flying open in fear.

Hermione meanwhile, is standing stock still, mouth agape and brown orbs wide.

She'd never expected a kiss to feel like yours had, yes, she’d been kissed before, but the tender caress of your lips was far more than a kiss from a boy could EVER be.

“Have I rendered Hermione Granger speechless?” You ask nervously, pulling Hermione out of her trance.

She opens and closes her mouth a few times, attempting to find her voice, though the thing that leaves her mouth when she finally DOES find her voice makes you laugh.

“Bloody hell.”

You bark out a laugh, your lips splitting into a grin.

Hermione’s cheeks flush.

“Forgive me for not knowing how to reply after a rather significant kiss.” She shakes her head and your brows arch.

You hum, eye glinting with hope.

“Significant?” You ask, the girl’s cheek flushing even a darker shade of red.

“Co-Consequential, I-I've never felt like th-that after a kiss.” She stutters and you swallow, your tongue swiping at your lips.

“Wo-Would you be interested in...”

You shuffle from foot to foot.

“Another significant, consequential kiss?” You ask, nonchalantly.

Hermione bites her bottom lip to stave off a smile, the woman swallowing hard.

“I-I would be rather interested.” She giggles, the Gryffindor's gaze falling to your lips.

This time, Hermione meets you halfway, the girl cupping your cheeks as your lips meet, your hands finding purchase on her waist.

A bright light causes the two of you to pull apart, your eyes widening when you see your Patronus happily bounding around the two of you.

Hermione grins as the wolf slips between the two of you.

“Another happy memory?” She asks and you smile.

“Any memory I make with you is a happy one.”

Your lips meet again, with no sense of hesitation from either of you, your lips melding together.

Your wolf disappears as the two of you part, Hermione’s forehead resting against yours.

“What do you think about making more together?”

#Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #hermione granger imagine #I'd love to hear what you thinkkk!

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kichous · 3 years

Text

✧･ﾟ:* our proper distance

summary. if sukuna notices the life growing within you, separated only by your flesh as he lays his head in your lap, he says nothing. series. history lesson. bonus scene ! pairing. ryomen sukuna x f!reader. warnings. mentions of miscarriages. childbirth. word count. 2922.

You spend every day waiting for the other shoe to drop. You had already asked much of him in keeping this liaison secret. That he was willing to compromise for you was a miracle in and of itself. You do not mistake his generosity for kindness. You are well aware that your safety and well-being relies on his good will.

You have been Ryomen Sukuna’s mistress for four years. You have been his lover for roughly half of your sons’ lifetimes, and you have shouldered this secret alone for four years out of fear for their safety. And although the King of Curses, whose power has only grown since he bested your father in combat, is known to sorcerers as cruel and greedy, he cares in some way for the lives of your children. He would not hold his tongue otherwise.

Twins are a bad omen because of Sukuna, after all.

For someone whose followers regularly burn your families’ crests, Sukuna goes to greater lengths than he needs to in order to protect you. You’re still amazed that he even wants to defend you at all. He is not exactly wanting for bedmates — and you have to admit that despite the inhumanity of his form, he is still just as handsome as he was when he bore the name Shun. You do not dare to believe that you are someone special to him. You do not dare to hope.

He comes to you under the cover of night, and you learn to recognize his silhouette in front of the screen door when the moon is at its highest. You light a lantern by your door when your husband is with his other wives, though Sukuna still comes even when it isn’t there. Some nights he is content to lounge with you. His predisposition to getting his hair stroked is exceedingly feline.

That isn’t to say that he doesn’t lay with you. Such intimacy was how your relationship started, after all. From your first time in the fields beyond your father’s walls, to when he presses you into the futon in your husband’s home, Sukuna is no stranger to any inch, any measure of your body. You have come to know his as well, tracking every change with every moon. You are certain you are more familiar with him than he is with you, however, as you have never seen fit to tell them about the children.

Or, rather, the children that never came to be.

Over the years, there have been ten. Each one, you have hidden from the King of Curses. Your husband is not subject to such deceit. If anything, your infertility works in your favor. He does not come to see you as often anymore, unhappy as he is with the fact that you’ve yet to bear him any heirs besides Michimaru and Takechiyo. It gives you more time to spend with your sons — and more time with Sukuna, who does not seem particularly bothered that you have not granted him children either, despite the many times you have been together.

You wonder if you mistake his satisfaction for indifference. Perhaps he does not want the hindrance of children in his grand ambitions. He is not the most fatherly of men — although, thinking about it, you suppose you do not know any good fathers in the first place.

Sukuna’s warmongering is the last thing you would wish to subject a child to, and your sons are already afraid enough of him as it is. Your family does a good job at spreading fear and panic where Sukuna is concerned. You haven’t yet told the boys that they had already met him when he was just a man.

Regardless of his intentions, there was never anything to truly fear, as none of his seed ever took — that is, until this last moon.

You were so certain that it was impossible, that perhaps someone had cursed you. You had proved fertile enough not long after your marriage. It was strange to think that you would bear twins and nothing more. Spending the better part of your life valued only for your womb, your failure to produce more children was met with plenty of speculation, both by yourself and your immediate family. Sukuna, conversely, asked nothing of you but your company. You took solace in that fact, pitiable as it may seem.

And so, when he comes to you on a new moon, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he steps into your quarters, you are at a loss. He notices it too, as he remarks that you look like a trembling doe. It’s not the most flattering creature to be compared to, but you smile indulgently at him nonetheless. When you gesture for him to sit with you, he lays his head in your lap as always.

It is routine — you start by combing his hair away from his face, your hand tracing the familiar curve of his skull as you rub soothing circles into his scalp with the pads of your fingers. Sukuna’s eyes flutter shut at your motion, and your other hand wraps around his face to stroke his jaw. You could almost swear that he starts to purr, though you’re certain he would put you to death for ever suggesting it. At this angle, he is worryingly close to your unborn child. He says nothing to indicate that he knows of its presence.

“You look tired,” you murmur. “I could have Kinu bring us some tea, if you like.”

Sukuna lifts a hand. “Don’t bother. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” He exhales as you massage his temples. “Yes, just like that.”

“I insist.” He’s horrible to deal with when he’s cranky and you’re not in the mood. When you do not let him bruise your wrists, your hips, or your thighs, he turns to cutting words instead. He hasn’t shown any signs of displeasure yet, but you know that he is nothing if not unpredictable. It never hurts to be proactive. “Whatever you want.”

“Fine,” hums Sukuna, one of his lower eyes cracking open. “Fennel.”

Thoughtlessly, your smile drops. He notices, as the other three eyes are suddenly peering at you with suspicion.

Your servants don’t know of Sukuna — at least, that is what you are content to believe. If they have any idea that you have a lover, they say nothing to your husband and they say nothing to you. You do not want to know of their suspicions, of the knowledge that they may hold over you. You cannot spend every day looking over your shoulder from those you spend nearly every waking moment with.

But of your current predicament, they know every detail. Everything to do with your monthly blood, with the miscarriages, to the morning sickness, they’ve cleaned it all. And in doing so, you like to believe that they feel some loyalty to you. It helps you sleep at night. And because they know of the happenings of your body, they know that asking for fennel tea is asking for more blood to clean from your sheets. Infinitely more difficult than vomit, you suspect.

“Do you take issue with my choice?”

You blink, remembering yourself. Shaking your head, you try to move back, only to be pinned by the weight of Sukuna’s torso. You could shove him off, but that wouldn’t end well for anyone. “It’s fine, I just… remembered that we have run out of fennel tea, that is all.” You smile at him, and you notice through your mirror that it is too wan to seem genuine. Your heart sinks as the skepticism remains in his gaze.

“You are distressed,” Sukuna says plainly. “What have you done?”

You furrow your brows. What have you done to me? you wish to ask. You do not. “Nothing,” you hiss instead. Your scandalized tone amuses him; you can tell by the curve of his lips. He’s going to push you more. You place a hand over his mouth before he can, then yelp as he swipes his tongue across your palm. You wipe it on his kimono. “You’re disgusting. Who knows what I’ve touched?”

“It better not have been anything foul or I’ll sever these pretty hands myself.” Sukuna says the words so sweetly, they leave his lips like a song.

You run your fingers through his hair again in reply, and he chuckles.

“All right, I suppose I’ll spare you for now.” He tilts his chin up to meet you halfway when you lean down and kiss him, nibbling on your lower lip. He chases after you when you part, and he wraps a hand around the back of your head to pull you in again. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“I think I should be the one saying that about you.”

Sukuna relaxes in your lap once again, contentment flitting across his face. “That was a valiant effort at sidestepping my question, and for that, I shall reward you with leniency.”

There’s always some sense of serenity around him, even in the midst of carnage and peace alike. Like he belongs in this world, a curse that will never, ever, leave. He is tranquil in the midst of the chaos he sows — a figure of balance. That is how the commoners who champion him refer to the Two-Faced Spectre. You envy his level of self-satisfaction. Were that all the world felt as confident and assured as Sukuna, there would be a great deal less bloodshed, you think.

Rather — knowing mortals as they are, there would be infinitely more. But Sukuna would like that, you suppose.

He interrupts your contemplation by taking your hand and sliding it over his hair again. “Did I say that you could stop?”

No. He most certainly did not. With a weary chuckle, you appease him, and he takes your other hand to press a kiss into your palm. The two of you settle in silence until the candles wind down, and when they no longer provide adequate light, you lean over to blow them out and invite Sukuna to lay with you. He reads in your expression that your only intention is to sleep, and without protest, he climbs into the futon alongside you. He takes up most of it, though you are used to that.

Sukuna lies on one side. Given the excessive amount of limbs, you doubt that the position is very comfortable. He was steps and a couple of drinks away from conjuring himself a tail, though, so you suppose that most of the reason that Sukuna doesn’t sleep is because of the discomfort. Nevertheless, he likes to hold you when you sleep, his arms like a cage. As you settle into his embrace, you find that it is tighter than usual. You fold your hands over your stomach, pressing your back into his chest.

One of his hands rests on your shoulder, while his other arm on the same side winds around your waist. He lays that hand on top of yours. Though he isn’t pressing very hard, you feel every point of his nails like the tip of a blade against your belly. You roll over so that the pin-pricks are against the flesh of your back. As you tilt your head up to meet his gaze, you’re marveled by how… familial the embrace is.

Mother and father on either side, and the child sleeping soundly in the middle. It is a fool’s dream to ever think it could become a reality. But the thought still lingers in your mind — what if?

Would he run away with you? Abandon everything he’s ever worked for to raise your child (children, possibly) in obscurity. A fisherman like his father, who abandoned him as a child to be taken in by your family, ostensibly to give him a better life. You’d be a… gods, what could you do? Weave, perhaps? Something useful, at least. To show that you were not the spoiled little girl he always made you out to be.

And would your child be a sorcerer? Would they be a simpleton, like you, or would they be as powerful and fearsome as their father? Would ambition consume them, just as it had the man you loved?

Alas, you are a fool to even dream it. The four-armed could-be fisherman traces a finger along your neck, a brow arched.

“Is my face truly so mesmerizing?” he whispers, eyes sparkling. The mirth dissipates when you don’t react, and he instead leans away from you and props himself up on his lower elbow. He watches you not as one would a lover, but the way a hunter stalks its prey — like he’s waiting for any misstep he could leap upon. “All right, come out with it.”

“What?” The word doesn’t sound convincing, even to yourself. Your failure at duplicity causes both disappointment and disdain to war upon Sukuna’s face. Quickly, you lift your hands to appease him. “I’ve just been feeling a little tired these days is all. I’ve already sent for a healer, surely they can figure out what’s wrong with me.”

“Is there any better healer in the province than yourself?” he scoffs. You are not sure whether to be flattered by the praise, spoken with venom, or not. “If there were anyone with a greater grasp on reverse cursed technique they may very well be a god.”

You stroke his jaw tenderly with the backs of your fingers, rubbing a thumb across his cheek. “Not every malady can be healed by my power,” you remind him. To be fair, you did actually call for a second opinion. You could simply be suffering through some foodborne illness — but you know your body best, and you know now that there is something dwelling within it. You have called for a midwife, just to make sure. “I will be fine.”

“I don’t like seeing you upset.” Sukuna’s lips form a scowl. “Tell me what to do to make it stop.”

His words give you pause, an incredulous laugh nearly bubbling out of you. You subdue yourself, but the wonder is still there. You tuck yourself into him to hide your mirth.

Is this the closest you’ll ever get to genuine romance from him? You know that you can never tell him anything. And while you’d think yourself a monster if he was anyone else, you know the child will be safer if they had never known of Sukuna at all.

How on earth would you tell the child their father was a beast? You could lie to them, pretend that your husband was the one that sired them. You could never tell them at all, and leave it until their adulthood before they found the truth. Then you would be no better than the family you tried to escape.

You had always thought yourself a decent mother, fair and loving. But a child of Sukuna could never know a world of peace, and with how irrevocably you have become intertwined with him, you could not give the child the peaceful, happy life it deserved.

Your brother’s wife has a sister in Mino. Perhaps she will raise your baby as her own.

“There’s nothing you can do,” you murmur into the side of his neck. You can feel a rumbling in his throat, a low growl in reply. When you stroke his back, he stills. There is virtually no space between you, and you can feel the mouth on his stomach shift against your midsection. Instinctively, you slide a hand over yourself as a barrier.

He doesn’t seem to notice the defensive gesture, and for that, you are thankful. Sukuna never sleeps when he is with you, only laying in a facsimile of it in his stillness and steadiness while you actively slumber. He is always gone in the morning when you wake, but if you are (un)lucky, you can still catch his scent on you. As you lean back to rub noses with him, you find him staring at you intently. Eyes like piercing daggers, you have no doubt he has watched you like this many nights before.

“Nothing at all.” It is not a question. It is said with malice, with suspicion.

Your little fantasy of a life with him seems ever further away. A fool’s delusion.

This man does not love you — he loves how much he can control you. He loves that you sit prettily in the palm of his hand, that you give him everything without protest. He loves that he always leaves you wanting for more. He loves that you lie for him, that you live a double life only for him. He loves the feeling of turning you against his greatest enemies, even if that was never true.

He loves that he is one of the only reasons you are ever happy. He loves that you are afraid of his moods, and that you do all that you can to please him. He loves that do as he asks in all respects but one. He loves that you are so small against him, so frail. He loves you most when you are at your weakest. He loves only as a monster loves.

You cannot — you will not ever allow him to sink his claws into this child.

You press a gentle kiss to Sukuna’s lips, a false promise. “Nothing at all.”

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #history lesson bonus.#history lesson tag.#jjk fic.#i think my writing says something about how much i fucking love sleeping and napping #considering how often the couples end up in bed

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hpalways · 4 years

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Commissions || Childe

UNPREDICTABLE people were like magnets to you, somehow always managing to show up. Usually, you would avoid them at any given chance, preventing further interactions from occurring. As an adventurer, you didn't work for the thrill, but rather for the money. That meant that deep inside, you longed for a peaceful life, which was the main reason why there were certain beings that shouldn't exist in your reality. So how did it go oh-so-terrible with Tartaglia?

You first met Tartaglia -- also known as Childe -- in Liyue Harbor when you were at a stall to buy food. You had a few commissions in tail, waiting to be resolved for the day. But first, food was on your mind. It wouldn't do any good to fight hilichurls and whatnot with an empty stomach. As you were about to dig into your trouser's pockets to find any mora, a man stepped up in front of you, blocking the way. Assuming that he was budging you in line, you opened your mouth to protest, but the words faltered to come out when the male whirled around to face you.

Deep, blue eyes stared into your soul, twinkling mischievously... and somehow, you couldn't read into them. Fiery, orange hair accompanied his features, going unexpectedly well with the blue. Smiling at you crookedly, he saluted you with a gloved hand. A red mask was adorned on the side of his head, matching the red details on his overall gray outfit. He was very tall and attractive -- taking you momentarily off guard.

"I'll pay for your meal. My treat," he easily told you, making a show of flashing the lump of mora in his hands. He even went as far as to swing his arm around your shoulders like the two of you were friends. The warm, close contact nearly caused you to freeze in place, getting flustered all over. What the hell was happening?

"Oh... sure," you uttered, staring blankly at him. Well, there was no use turning him down. The word treat was enough to hook and wheel you in.

"What's your name?" he inquired in a friendly manner, lugging you along as if you were a ragged doll through the waiting line.

Hesitating to answer for a second, you were beginning to look stupid under his expecting gaze. There was a reason though: you were wary of strangers, having learned that the hard way when you encountered Treasure Hoarders one time. But seeing how amused this man was by your internal debate, you pushed the doubts away and decided to go for it. "I'm [Y/N]. You?"

"Lovely name befitting for a lovely person," he mused, leaving you embarrassed. "I'm Childe."

It was then your turn to order. Letting his arm around you go, he straightened up and nudged you ahead. The warmth evaporated from you and you suddenly wished for his touch again. Horrified by your thoughts, you brushed them away and stepped up to the front, telling the chef your order.

Once that was done with and the food was received, you sat down at a table outside. Three whole dishes filled of food, you wasted no time to dive into them, the steamy aroma wafting into the air. Mouthful of food, you almost choked when you found the so-called Childe sitting down in front of you. Coughing for a good minute or two, you suffered as he watched you in enjoyment. When you could catch your breath, you averted your gaze to the table. Oh god, you wished you could bury yourself before you could humiliate yourself any further. He shouldn't have followed you here.

"I'm surprised you bought three whole dishes for yourself," he pointed out, taking delight in teasing you.

You scowled and looked at him, the shameful emotion fading away. "Are you insinuating something?" you asked, squinting at him. He rose his brows in surprise, quickly shaking his head to explain he meant no harm. Sighing, you decided to go all out then. If he already knew your name, what difference would it make to share a few more things about yourself? Besides, this was Liyue Harbor we're talking about; no one was that desperate to seek out trouble so publicly. "I'm an adventurer and I also do commissions. Fighting takes up a lot of my energy, so only one meal wouldn't suffice."

Something swirled in his eyes -- unknown and still just as unreadable. However, you paid no mind to it, too absorbed by the food and the conversation to notice. Maybe this was where it went wrong. "An adventurer?" he echoed, his voice breathless. His ears seemingly perked up and he leaned forward in his seat, anxious to hear more. "What would you say if I tagged along with you today?"

It was shocking to hear that, but eventually, you accepted his self-invitation and brought him along to the locations. Setting off by foot, the two of continued onward with full bellies and enough energy to last several hours. The land stretched for miles and miles, scaping the grounds of hills, mountains, rivers, and meadows. Hogs ran through the trees and birds soared in the skies. Monsters rolled around in the dust, waiting to ambush anybody in the way. The sun beating down upon your backs and the weather a little too warm for liking, it was a difficult trek, but nothing close to impossible for an adventurer.

The fighting began when the destination to a pack of hilichurls appeared on sight. Unsheathing your blade, you immediately attacked them, continuously slashing away until they were entirely cleaned up. Breathing heavily with sweat beading your forehead, you did all the dirty work as Childe inspected from the side, his eye following your every move.

It wasn't easy though. You struggled at some areas, sometimes missing them or getting slightly injured by their own weapons. It was sloppy and flawed, for you were not a skilled swordsman, born without the talent and money. Anyway, it didn't matter much; as long as you did the job, that was what mattered.

The next one took place near the mountains. Insuring that a wagon would be delivered somewhere safely, you had to fend off more monsters, circling around the large transport tirelessly to prevent any damage. While you were doing so, the orange haired male lounged on top of the-said wagon, relaxed and watching the battle beneath him.

Afterwards, it was of simple commissions, with no sword involved. On the last one and feeding ducks for a little kid you accidentally offended, you let out a yawn, ready to go home and sleep everything off. Your partner for the day was also there, crouching down beside the lake's bank, tossing the wheat to the little creatures. Turning his head to the side, he gave you a small smile. Unlike you, he was widely awake and full of energy -- you expected that much, considering he didn't do anything to help you.

"I enjoyed traveling around with you today, [Y/N]," he said, straightening himself up until he returned to being taller than you.

Minus the part where he was completely useless to you, you couldn't help but admit that it was enjoyable to have him him around. His cheery persona helped to distract you from your dislike with the job, filling the silence with easy discussion about basically anything. "It was fun... I suppose," you responded, letting out yet another yawn.

"You know, you could've asked me help. It would've been less straining for you," he pointed out.

You swerved your head at the mention of this, flabbergasted with your mouth hung open like a gaping fish. "You can fight?!" You shot up from where you sat, stepping up to a half-laughing, half-scared Childe. He nodded slowly and you rubbed your eyes harshly, curses running through your head. "And you didn't think to tell me that until now?"

He shrugged, drinking in your angered expression. No ounce of remorse shown in his features, he was pleased to get a rise out of you. Goddammit, this guy was going to be the death of you. "You never asked."

Not replying to him, you faced the other way and crossed your arms, brooding like a kid after a tantrum.

"Aw, don't be mad at me," he cooed, petting your [h/c] head endearingly. "Hey, are you thinking of improving your swordsmanship?"

Originally planning to give him the silent treatment, you could barely even hold on to the promise for a minute. His question intrigued you and you began to wonder why he was asking you something like that. "No, not really," you answered.

"Why not?"

"It's not necessary. My level is adequate for the commissions I take on. It's not like I'm striving to be anything legendary... that's just asking for a death sentence."

His forehead furrowed and a darkened gaze was aimed at you. He seemed to want to say a lot of things, yet couldn't find the words to them. Was he... mad at you for some unknown reason? Almost expecting a big lecture from him, you were shocked to hear what he said instead. "You have potential though."

That was where you parted from Tartaglia that young evening, but by no means was that the last time you were to see him.

You would run into him at Liyue Harbor, in Mondstadt, or sometimes in your travels as an adventurer. Each time you would welcome him warmly, always glad to have his company. He was seriously growing on you, become a friend that distracted you from the hardships of the cold reality. He brightened the atmosphere wherever he went, always the charismatic type, wooing anyone with a tip of a smile.

Of course, you knew he was a Harbringer; he never made a show of hiding it, so you were acknowledged of this pretty much immediately. Hearing the gossip and rumors of the Fatui, you understood that the organization was hella sketchy, but it didn't shine a bad light on Childe at all. You wanted to put your hopes in him, to give him the benefit of doubt. He was helpful so far and your life was peaceful with him around -- which was the one thing you wished for.

Or maybe it was because you had fallen for him already.

At least for the first month or so, everything passed through wonderfully. The two of you were like partners in crime, back to back and supportive of the other. The amount times you would stroll through the meadows and just talk to the man was becoming countless. It began to be something you were looking forward to: to have the time to get to know him even better, from his family to the simplest of facts about him.

It was too good to be true. As the saying goes, nothing lasts forever.

You should have never lowered your guard down. Not when you were found laying on the grimy grounds of a domain, beaten and bloodied. Not when the man you supposedly loved was towering in front of you, his deep blue eyes glowering in lust for violence. Not when your peaceful life was shattered to pieces. Childe couldn't control it any longer that day. He wanted to battle you out, to cause chaos and havoc. Why? You didn't understand... he was your friend. This wasn't what friends do. Nonetheless, he was serious about this declaration.

He spat at the ground, annoyed you didn't put up a greater fight. Not at all worried about your wounds, he paced around the chamber, pulling at his messy locks. "Didn't I say you had potential?! You should've tried harder."

You soon lost consciousness, too exhausted and pained to do anything else. The next time you awoken, you were in Mondstadt, getting healed by Barbara. Tartaglia was no where to be seen, as he ran off earlier without telling anyone of his whereabouts. That was the last time you saw him for a while...

Everything that happened was the past, occurring a few months ago. And here you were, in the present, back to the same life you had before meeting Childe. You still disliked the same things, whether that'd be fighting, unpredictable people, or your job. Day after day, you worked to gain money for a living, hating every moment of it. It was so normal that sometimes you wondered if you may have imagined the certain Fatui man up.

Walking through the mountainous parts of Liyue, you were on a hunt for resources. Hoping to stumble upon a mine and get done with the work as soon as possible, it was unfortunate that the weather hated you.

Droplets fell from the sky and the clouds darkened the world. Rain thrummed against the earth, soaking your clothes within a few minutes. They stuck to your skin, turning uncomfortable and cold. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you quickened your pace, desperate to find shelter for the time being. Shit, shit, shit. You hated the life of an adventurer so much--

Too blurry to watch where you were going, you hit a hard surface in front of you. Rather than a hard surface, it was actually a person. Squinting and wiping the droplets from your eyes, you cringed when you saw who it was. It was the one and only Childe, looking the same as always.

Wet orange locks somehow making him more attractive than he already was, he was as soaked as you were. The clothes defined his body and you frantically stopped yourself staring at it any further.

"[Y/N]," he breathed out, looking unsure. The sound of his voice snapped you back to life and fury filled the pits of your stomach. Seething in spot, the hands at your sides clenched tightly. He had taken your trust and ruined it -- he was nothing but a fucking bastard.

He took a few steps forward, growing nearer, his blue beautiful hues full of regret. You hated that he dared show himself up, wearing that damn look as if you would ever forgive him. Pulling your hand back without thinking, you laid it across his cheek, harsh at the contact. He touched his red cheek in awe, lowering his head in shame.

"I deserved that," he whispered, smiling at you sadly.

"You do," you muttered.

Despite how angry you were at him, there was this twisted desire to kiss him. Feelings were confusing, always making a situation more complicated than it should be.

Leaning forward, you locked lips with his. His body had stiffened in bewilderment, but he soon returned the kiss, wrapping his steady arms around yourself. Digging your fingers into his hair, you sighed in between breaths and listened to your racing heart. He tasted like salt and the soil beneath you. He was the definition of unpredictable, but you couldn't get enough of him. He brought destruction in the paths he walked on and had the continuous yearning for war. He was everything you were not and you hated him for it.

His lips trailed away from your own, peppering kisses on your jawline, causing you to gulp. He was swallowing you whole, taking in everything about you to memorize. His touch was intoxicating, the finger tips leaving a mark on your tender skin. "Let's never see each other again after this," you told him. He didn't respond as he continued to bruise your neck. "I hate you, Childe. I fucking hate you, you bastard."

Tears welled out of your eyes, mixing together with the tears from the gods, unable to be distinguished.

He lifted his head and gave you one last long kiss. Your insides were this close to bursting, butterflies fluttering horrendously like a beast within you. Soft lashes flitted and he stared at you with understanding. He was going to listen to your wish; he would never show himself up again.

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so-writing · 3 years

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Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (9)

all parts in the master list

It was obvious that you’d been reading far too much into the way Matthew had been treating you and acting around you.

It was obvious that he just really fucking liked your cat and that was it.

It was obvious to you now that you’d never have Matthew Tkachuk in any capacity so you needed to get over your stupid feelings and attraction and go back to treating him the way you did before the roadie.

So you did.

He had no idea what he had done to make her revert back to her old behaviors. He thought they were starting to finally get along and maybe, actually become friends. They spent small amounts of time together in their respective apartments and they were civil—bordering on friendly—at work.

“Hey!”

Matthew gave her a big smile and pulled up in front of her to bump her fist but instead of greeting him a similar fashion, she rolled her eyes and pushed past him without a word.

It was like that for two weeks and it wasn’t just at work. When they happened to run into each other in their shared building, she barely spoke to him and almost completely avoided eye contact.

He had no fucking clue what he had done to make her hate him again. Before all this started, he thought maybe they were getting somewhere, in some way he didn’t even know how to explain.

Everything came to a head after a home game and a huge loss to the Oilers.

Someone was knocking, no, pounding on your door and you were in no mood to deal with anyone’s bullshit. You had just arrived home from the arena after a devastating loss to the Oilers and you were in a shit mood. All you wanted to do was sleep and whoever was slamming their fist into your door clearly didn’t care you had a skincare routine to get through before you went to sleep.

You didn’t bother looking through the peephole, instead opting to rip the door open and tear apart whoever was on the other side.

“What the fuck?!”

He wasn’t who you expected to see, though if you thought about it, you weren’t sure who else it would be.

Matthew was still in his suit but his curls were more disheveled than earlier, indicating that he’d been running his fingers through them. He bit his lip as he looked down at you and the expression on his face was unreadable.

“Fucking, what, Matthew? I need to sleep.”

“Why aren’t you nice to me anymore?”

“Because I don’t fucking like you.”

You weren’t prepared to see his face drop the way it did and but you refused to feel bad for.

“Since when?”

“Since always, Matthew, we don’t get along. We don’t like each other, we aren’t friends.”

He literally shrank into himself at the sound of your words but it was only for a second before he was back up and on the defense.

“I’m so annoyed with myself that I thought we could even attempt to get along,” you didn’t see it coming but as soon as it hit you, you felt it hard and heavy, “you’re a miserable fucking bitch that can’t play nice with anyone. I’m not sure why I even fucking tried.”

It was enough.

It was enough for you to put your hands up on both of his shoulders and shove him hard, sending him crashing into the wall behind him.

It was enough for you to unleash hell on Matthew Tkachuk and scream the most hurtful things you could think of, not caring at all if the entire building heard it.

He didn’t retaliate in any way, choosing to lean against the wall and take your cutting insults while giving you no response at all. Your voice was hoarse by the time you were done screaming at him as you shrank to the floor just outside your apartment and watched his back head toward the elevator without a word.

Awkward, weird, uncomfortable.

Those words were the only way to describe the following morning as you sat directly in front of Matthew, doing a health check after he received a hard hit to the head in the last game.

“Are you feeling any dizziness?”

“No.”

“Any lightheadedness?”

“No.”

“Anything just generally weird or out of place?”

“Hm,” he chuckled slightly, “yes.”

“Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“I’m kind of exhausted, actually, but it doesn’t have anything do with my hit. I invited Ashley over last night and, holy fuck, she is incredible in bed. Like, really fucking good, so tight and ready for me.”

“This has nothing to do with your head injury.”

“You asked me if I was feeling off, I responded honestly.”

“This is inappropriate.”

“Is it? I’ve talked to other staffers about my off the ice situations before.”

He was trying to get a rise out of you and, so far, it was working. Your hands were sweating and you were irritated by his stupid smile and his comments about sleeping with someone pissed you off.

At that point, you didn’t care what happened to you.

“I say that because I feel like I can’t give you adequate advice about your bedroom activity. I have no doubt you enjoyed your evening with Ashley, but as a woman, I can’t pretend to know how she felt after your night of bliss but I can guess.”

You leaned over the table, your chin resting in your palms as you gave him your best look of innocence, “she wasted her time with someone who claimed they could deliver and she definitely didn’t cum.”

His entire face went fire engine red to match his hair and you politely excused yourself from the room.

Matthew Tkachuk was not going to make a fool out of you and get away with it.

Determined to take control of your strange situation with Matthew, you opened Instagram and sent a direct message you never thought you’d send, to Brady Tkachuk.

He was recently single, so why not?

#Matthew Tkachuk #matt tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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oogaboogasphincter · 3 years

Text

A Magpie, a Goose and a Sparrow Walk into a Found Family Trope (Ezra x f!reader)

Summary: A nightmare caused by trauma he endured before and on The Green haunts Ezra one night, his fear bleeding into reality. Under the fog of sleep, he hurts you, thinking you are the monster that is endangering you, Cee and himself while on your next trip. He apologizes by doing something that terrifies him: opening his heart up to another person.

Word Count: 10.7k+ (holy shit i deeply apologize for putting my readers through this agonizingly long junk)

Rating: M (mature) just to be safe (some pretty intense themes but i don’t think there’s anything too explicit)

Warnings: non-fatal manual strangulation and bruises from it, swearing, sexualization of two adults, mild references to sex, mild allusions to sexual arousal, discussion of trauma and its effects, Prospect (2018) spoilers, some argument, hair braiding, one (1) ✨neck✨ kiss, one use of (y/n), sprinkles of that sexual tension we all love, a resolved ending!

Author’s Note: first off, thank you SO much to @martinsmomo for this request!💜💕 this was so creative, i hope i did it justice :). second, AHHH!!!!! my first piece ever!!! i haven’t written anything on my own time for my own enjoyment since i was like 13, which may or may not be apparent by my comma splices, repetitive sentence structure/word choice and disagreeing verb tense💀. the thought of i have no idea what i'm doing never left my mind while i was writing this, but i just tried to go with it and have fun :). ALSO, i had so much fun reading all of the lore about the world that Prospect (2018) takes place in. Here is a link to a pamphlet about a lot of stuff that is featured in the movie, which i used while writing this piece. i highly recommend you check it out! i tried to stick to as much canon stuff as i could, but 🦋The Blue🦋 is something that i made up. also this is not beta’d, i just wanted to throw this into the void and see what happens✨. i also also want to point out that in no way am i trying to romanticize or sexualize domestic violence. i know that the subject matter in this piece can be triggering, and even though the violence wasn’t intentional and it’s resolved through love, i don’t want it to be misconstrued as something that it’s not. with that being said, i hope you enjoy it! :)

gif by @anakin-skywalker

A grunt stirs you from your deep slumber. Your eyes open easily, a treat that you weren’t given often due to the dryness of the pod’s recirculated air. The inside of your shared galactic chamber is as dark as your mind; no illumination to shine on your thoughts and wake them up or to show you how Ezra is doing. You know the grunt had come from him, as the only other passenger was his adopted daughter, Cee. You turn in your pilot’s chair, looking over your shoulder to try and make him out through the impossible darkness.

Parcel-Class Planetary Drop Pods were designed to fit only two travelers, however the three of you had decided to embark on your next journey together. To save on costs, your partners opted for a model without cots. Being the gentleman that he is, Ezra insisted that you and Cee sleep in the pilots’ chairs. He had thrown a few blankets on the cold, flat floor and had proudly announced, “Sleeping quarters fit for a king!”, eliciting pitiful laughter from you and Cee.

Now, your eyes can’t find the sad bundle of warmth that is his sleeping figure. He is a restless sleeper, and every time he made a noise that was more than a good-natured hum or a soft swish of rearranging his blankets, you would wake and turn to make sure that he was okay. You would do the same for Cee, but she was a fantastic sleeper. Not too deep, not too light, and never made a peep. You turn back around, giving up on trying to spot Ezra in the dark, when you hear another grunt.

This one is louder than the last.

You turn back around yet again, your own blanket falling off of your chest and into your lap. Eyebrows furrowing together and eyes squinting, your pupils strain themselves to find any shred of light to let you see. The noises increase in abundance and volume. Ezra’s sleeping fit has transformed from a halfhearted rustling to an aggravated clamor in less than a minute. Your eyes stay on the dark patch of space where you know his “bed” is situated while Cee arises from her sleep. Her chair lets out the slightest creak as she follows your gaze and attempts herself to see what all of the commotion is about. She asks you, “Is he okay?” Ezra answers her with an irritated growl through his teeth. You say to her, “I don’t know, I can’t see him, should we-”

Your suggestion of waking him up is cut short as two hands wrap around your throat. The hands twist your head to face forward, and you’re greeted with Ezra’s sweat-slicken face. Instinctively, you grasp at his forearms in an effort to ease the constriction of your neck.

Cee screams, “Ezra, let go of her!”

He defies her command and puts one of his knees in between yours on the seat of the pilot’s chair and leans closer to you. The brown eyes that you had grown to love now bore into yours with unwavering menace as the pads of his fingers press harder into the sides of your neck. His palms are flush with your larynx, threatening to crush it. You want to let out sobs of heartbreak, but are unable to. He’s restricted your actions to only being able to watch him attempt to strangle you. Your fingers aren’t able to get a grip on his limbs due to his angry sweat and your panicked claminess. Your mouth hangs open as his is shut tight, his jaw muscles stuttering with intense rage. He starts to growl through his teeth again, but a flash of light turns it into a howl.

His entire body falls back, his hands losing their purchase on your neck. You suck in a harsh breath and lean forward as Cee grabs your hand and pulls you out of the pilot’s chair. In her other hand she grips a Boscelot Frontiersman: the source of the light that had extracted Ezra’s shriek and drilled its way into his thigh. He sat on the floor in front of your chair and laced his hands just above his injury, throwing his head back and wincing.

Cee puts some feet in between the two of you and guides you across the floor to the other side of the impossibly small pod. Hoarse coughs begin to rise from your surprised larynx, accompanied by trembling of your entire body. Cee, still holding you by your arm with one hand and the Thrower in the other, yells your thoughts at Ezra, “What the fuck was that for?!” She flicks the lights on, allowing everyone to see each other’s face for the first time all night.

Ezra stares at the two of you in disbelief. Both brunette and blonde strands of hair are stuck to his forehead with sweat, eyes depressed from the subsiding adrenaline, his whole body drenched in distressed perspiration. You and him lock eyes, even through your flailing about as you continue to choke on air and delicately place your own hands over where his just had you in a vice grip. He knows what he’s done as soon as he sees you. He begins to cry and opens his mouth to start an apology that can never be adequate, but Cee hurls a field kit at his head. It hits him and he takes the blow without complaint. His devastated eyes keep to your bloodshot ones as he opens up the kit and starts to treat his justified wound. Cee stares at him with aggravation, and so do you, but her expression is void of confusion.

You are confused as all hell. What could have possibly made him do that? He seemed to be having a nightmare, but that didn’t give him the excuse to nearly strangle you to death.

Your coughs and stress start to dwindle as all of you sit there, not saying a word, the only other noise in the room being Ezra opening and closing medical supplies. He squirts a sanitizing solution over his wound, hissing, and then he takes out a Patch Gun. This sets your heart racing. The strangling was unpredicted and almost successful, would he get up once he was healed enough and try to do it again? You push yourself back against the wall and keep your widening eyes on him as he sprays the medicated foam into the hole the Thrower had burned through his trousers. He squeezes his eyes shut, winces intensely, and then fails to keep a painful wail inside his chest. You’ve seen him treat himself before, and usually his next step is to throw more than the recommended amount of pain relievers into his mouth and chew on the tablets, redirecting the pain from his injury to his mouth. He doesn’t do that this time.

Instead he throws the used Patch Gun to the side, closes the field kit and pushes it Cee’s way. He breathes your name out of his mouth, causing you to retreat further into the wall. You bring your legs to your chest and wrap your hands around the back of your neck, resting your elbows on your quaking kneecaps. Burrowing your face into the cavity you’ve created, you start bawling. Pain sears your throat, and is only intensified by your sobs, but you can’t help it. You’re absolutely terrified. Ezra says your name again, genuine with care, in an effort to get you to look at him. You shake your head once and continue to gasp into yourself. Cee startles you by touching your shoulder, and she quells your worries, “He won’t do it again.”

Her five simple words plant a seedling of peace in your heart, but it is nowhere near close to blooming. You don’t look up as she gets up and goes over to your pilot chair and grabs your blankets. Her footsteps return to you quickly, and within moments her warm, calm hands are draping the fabric over your shoulders. She rests her chin on your shoulder, moving with your heaves. A softening tone takes over her beautiful voice as she murmurs “It’s okay”s, “I’m here”s and “You’re safe”s into your blankets. Before you know it, your body succumbs to the overwhelming desire to heal mentally, emotionally and physically with sleep. Your trust in Ezra may be broken right now, but you know that Cee will watch over you. Despite her lack of size and experience compared to Ezra, you know she has the upper hand on him intellectually. He may be full of wondrous prose, a never-ending vocabulary and sharp wit, but Cee has had him in the palm of her hand ever since they met. You can sleep knowing that she can protect you and herself, if need be.

You peek out underneath your arm to qualify to yourself that Ezra is in no shape to attack again.

He sits where he landed when he fell, slouching with exhaustion. His eyes sparkle with tears of regret, his eyebrows quirked in a way that reads “There aren’t enough ways to apologize, but I’ll try every one until you forgive me.” You close your eyes, lay your head against the wall and beg the Sandman to bring you all a night of peace as you rest until the Sun comes up.

The pale blue morning light penetrates your eyelids and alerts your brain that it is time to get up. You awake to find Cee and Ezra sound asleep, her in her pilot’s chair and him in his “bed”. You are still huddled up against the wall, opposite to Ezra, and look upon him with a wary gaze. The fear he inserted into you last night makes your nerves feel like static, but at the same time you can’t help but be relaxed by his presence. It’s obvious he didn’t cause any more damage during rest of the night, so maybe his eyebrows were telling the truth: that he is sorry.

The muted sunshine washes his complexion out and dulls the warmth that his chestnut locks hold. It makes the blonde patch in his hair and the arc scar on his cheek glisten cerulean. His expression is relaxed, eyelids fidgeting under the controls of REM sleep.

The sound of Cee’s alarm clock distracts you, and moments later her hand reaches out and pushes the ‘stop’ button. Awakening limbs appear above the back of her chair, accompanied by a yawn. Your eyes dart to Ezra. He’s still asleep. She turns to you first and smiles, “Are you alright?” You nod once, return her smile, and you both turn to the slumbering man. She says, folding her blanket, “He’s fine. Calmed down after you fell asleep. He said he had a nightmare that you had turned against us. He said he wants to apologize but understands if you don’t want to speak to him.” You sigh through your nose, glancing over at him, “That’s okay. I think I would like some time away from him though. Just to process things, y’know?” Cee turns to face you, “That’s what I figured. I told him that.” You look at her and nod once.

She gets up and stretches again, folded blanket still in hand. She puts it on her seat and looks up at you excitedly, “Want to come look for aurelac with me today?”

“Definitely.”

Her face lights up with a wide smile and you mirror her reaction. Getting up and dropping your blankets to the floor, you go over to the compartment in the wall that holds your equipment. You take out what you’ll need - suit, helmet, air filter and a few Slurry Packs - and close the latch. The door slams shut harder than you intended, the resulting crash jolting Ezra awake.

A shy, apologetic smile graces his face as he meets your eyes, and you return the expression. You were still tightly wound, but were ready to start dispelling the fear, and that began by being cordial with him. His smile fades when his eyes lower to your hands and take in what you are holding. He gets up off the floor and inquires, “What do you have all that for?” His expression is neutral, but you worry that you will anger him by telling him what your plans are.

He had made it very clear since you joined him and Cee that he did not want you to prospect. He had told you that it was too dangerous of a task in itself, let alone the implications that came along with it: bartering, lying, gambling, stealing, killing. He didn’t want you or Cee to be subjected to any any of the horrors that accompanied prospecting, but Cee had been stubborn about her desires and had proven her abilities. She was great at prospecting, possessing an attention to tedium and an unwavering sense of calmness while performing the task. For a man who seeps with wisdom, Ezra wasn’t all that good of a prospector. He had the tendency to lose patience and cripple under pressure, which sometimes led to compromised digs.

“I’m going to look for aurelac deposits with Cee.” You nudge your head in her direction and she smiles at Ezra. He waves his hand dismissively, “That’s all fine and dandy,” now pointing a lazy yet warning finger at you, “But don’t you dare let prospecting dance upon those beautiful brain waves of yours.” His comment irritated you. You had never shown any signs of true disobedience to his wishes, besides the casual sigh of boredom or the bratty roll of your eyes. The words also set your heart aflutter. As you try to hide your blush and bury your annoyance, Cee says to him, “We don’t be doing any prospecting if we can’t find any aurelac.” His head tilts in agreement. He pads over to you and gingerly puts a hand on your shoulder. He had sensed your irritation and repeats his mantra of why he doesn’t want you prospecting, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Your anger became fiery again. Shoulder jerking to flick his hand off, you jab at him, “Because I’m safe in the confines of the pod?”

He points a finger at you again, this time accusatory, “That was purely an accident. Do not take it as anything but.”

Cee commands, “Both of you, stop, now. I’m not dealing with this all day. It was an accident. An inexcusable one, but an accident.”

Your and Ezra’s eyebrows had shifted to take on the same irate slope, however you both decide to just let it drop. You visibly signal your concession by dropping your shoulders and Ezra reflects you. He spins on his heels to open his own equipment hatch, and you turn to the wall yours is on. You all face the walls and change into your suits, a ritual of trust and time efficiency you decided on when the three of you agreed to work as a group.

Once dressed, you exit the pod, Ezra being first and Cee being last, and embark on your daily journey. The Sun had retreated behind some dark grey clouds. The sky was a royal blue, the ground was greige and the dark foliage that surround you drips with dew. You were stationed on the Blue Moon, an orbiting moon in the Bakhroma System. This place wasn’t highly traveled like its permanent sister (the Green Moon), due to the popular aftermath of the Aurelac Rush. Although Cee and Ezra had been there and left, many people in the galaxy still went to try and scoop up some valuable remains. Unlike The Green, The Blue wasn’t known for its abundant aurelac deposits, which is precisely why your partners chose to come here.

Their original plan was to travel to The Blue with just themselves, but while on a stop to Puggart Bench you had entranced Ezra while Cee tried to scope out her old friends and catch up with them before she set off on another mission. Demonstrating your eagerness to explore the galaxy and your expansive knowledge of it, Ezra decided to add you to his partnership. It didn’t hurt that you also tried to express your attraction to him, complimenting the rugged floater on his impressive vocabulary. He had complimented you on your willingness to listen to his ramblings, and it had been love ever since. Neither of you had come out directly and said “I love you”, and you hadn’t partaken in any physical affection, but your yearning for each other could not be more understood. His adoration for you only deepened when he saw how you interacted with Cee. Being closer to her generation than Ezra’s, you were able to connect with her like contemporaries. However, you were far enough away from her age group to the point where Ezra couldn’t act as a father figure to you. This duality made you irresistible to him.

Back to the present, you gaze at the back of his helmet intently, waiting to see what his plan of action for the day is. The Green requires visitors to wear air-tight suits and breathe through air filtration systems at all times because of harmful spores that float in the atmosphere. The Blue’s spores are far less harmful, and helmets can be taken off for 45 minute intervals, but the three of you only took them off when the confinement of the helmets became a little too much. The glass window of Ezra’s helmet swivels to you and he asks, “Split up, hourly check-ins, reconvene for lunch?”

As you’re thinking of your answer, you notice his eyes dart repeatedly up and down your body. You can tell by the way his mouth is slightly parted that he isn’t assessing your body language to predict your response. He’s thinking about all of the ways he would devour you for apology’s sake.

You look to Cee in the middle of your answer, “Sure. I’ll go with Cee today.” She smiles at you and turns to him. His mouth closes and he looks down to fiddle with his radio with thick-gloved fingers, “I’ll be on channel one.” Cee says, “Okay,” and beckons you to follow her as she sets off on a worn path. You and Ezra look at each other one more time before you turn in opposite directions and begin your divergent treks.

Catching up to Cee by jogging, your steps slow to match her pace once you are by her side. There’s silence between the two of you for a little while as you weave your way through trees of varying heights, eyes keeping to the ground to spot humps in the dirt. Humps gave away the location of aurelac deposits. A couple of slips were shared between the two of you as you climbed over hills and shuffled through valleys, the forest floor littered with puddles. What The Green has in vegetation, The Blue has in water. There were multiple lakes, some touting depths that are only achievable by advanced marine technology. Rainstorms are common, but they never grow to something like a hurricane. Everything was doused in a blue hue, whether it was the air, the water or the plants. The spores in the air resembled stagnant raindrops, peculiar in the way that they seemed to stay in their place in the atmosphere.

Cee broke the silence, “So, are you okay?” You know exactly what she is referring to and answer, “Yeah. Still a bit shaken up and confused, but other than that I guess I’m fine. I can feel bruises where his hands were.” She turns around to look at you and you lift your chin for her to see. She grimaces and says, “Yeah, you can see where each finger was and everything.” You look down, feeling disappointed that the event even happened. You ask her, “So he had a nightmare about me?” You watch the back of her helmet as she nods, “Yep. He just said that he thought you were going to endanger the three of us. He didn’t say in what way, really, just that you were a threat.” You take a moment to process the information and then fire off another question, “So, I have nightmares too, but I don’t act on them in real life. So why did he do what he did? Is there, like, an underlying feeling of distrust that he has for me, or...?” She started shaking her head halfway through your last sentence, “No, no, not at all. It’s just that The Green was so traumatic that I can understand just how vivid nightmares about it can be. And even though I don’t know much about what he went through before I met him on The Green, I’m sure prospecting was just as dangerous as it is now. I wouldn’t be surprised if at one point, or at a million points, someone that he trusted backstabbed him. But it’s nothing personal against you at all.” You nod and take in her words, trying to reassure yourself that you can trust him, even though he had done everything he could to prove you otherwise the night prior.

Cee stops and turns to you, chuckling, “If anything-”

A short sound on your radios cuts her off, and Ezra’s voice comes through the speakers, “How are you little birds coming along?”

Cee answers, “Fine. No deposits yet. What about you?” She grins at you, not forgetting to finish her comment as soon as he leaves the two of you alone.

“Nothing. I’ll be shocked if we stumble across any hint of a deposit today. Like every day. Over and out.”

You look at her, eager to hear what she has to say. This only widens her smile, and she rolls her eyes as she begins, “Like I was saying.” You both laugh as she continues, “If anything, you’re the best thing that’s happened to him. I’ve never seen his eyes light up so much at anything like they do when he looks at you.” You blush and look down at your feet shyly. She gives you a playful shove and knocks you out of your butterfly-ridden trance. Her tone changes serious as she sighs, her pitch dropping a little bit lower than normal, “You really don’t have to worry about him hurting you or me. He’s just fucked up from our time on The Green. I am too, but I experienced it in a slightly different way, and deal with it differently too. I mean, I lost my father, but he killed two other people. It got us out of there, but that’s probably going to haunt him for the rest of his life. And since it was recent, he’s still trying to figure out how to handle the whole thing. I’m not making any excuses for him, because he didn’t have any reason to attack you, regardless of any dream, but he seriously wouldn’t do that under any other circumstances.” She puts an assuring hand on your shoulder and smiles. You smile back and nod once in understanding, saying, “I believe you.” She pats your back, and you both turn to continue on your walk. A few moments pass, and she lets out another laugh. You teasingly ask her with a smile on your face, “What is it now?”

“I mean, it’s obvious that Ezra’s been through some shit, because the guy’s fucking weird as hell.” Your helmets are filled with your cackling as thoughts of the strange man play out in your head. Cee jokes, “I mean, little bird? His confusing speech pattern in general? Someone who talks in crosswords is either an ancient person who is trying to be clever in their last days because that’s the only form of strength they have left or just some asshole who finds enjoyment in verbally tricking people.” Another few moments of giggling pass before she ends with, “And what’s with the drawl?” She turns to you, the injuries in your throat burning from laughing so hard, “Have you ever heard someone else, in the entire Bakhroma System, talk like that?” You shake your head while wheezing and she says, “I haven’t either. So how did that weirdo even get here?”

The surrounding forests may be quiet, but the inside of your suits are filled with the joyful laughter of two friends who continue on their merry way to find some aurelac.

What yesterday lacked in aurelac, it made up for in emotional gains. You had spent the rest of the day with Cee, strengthening your tender bond, exploring the terrain that The Blue had to offer. Ezra kept to his promise and checked in on you two hourly, making sure that you hadn’t run into any other travelers or went too far off the grid. Your group hadn’t crossed paths with any other citizens of the galaxy since you landed, which didn’t surprise or disappoint any of you; the three of you needed some peacetime for regrouping.

You start today by scanning the pod’s dashboard of lights to make sure nothing is out of order. Because of his contempt to the idea of you prospecting, Ezra had assigned you to be the pod’s programmer. Pods were cheap to rent, so they were justifiably subject to malfunctions. Given that Cee and Ezra were tasked with mapping out The Blue and harvesting aurelac, you obliged to take the responsibility of operating the astronomical vehicle. The other job you had been given was keeper of the harvested aurelac. Once in its containers, you were to check on the gems every day and make sure that none had cracked during transport. The problem is that you haven’t had any luck at finding such valuables. It has been documented that The Blue does contain aurelac, but that it is extremely difficult to find. However, the average gem on The Blue is thrice the size of that which The Green holds. So the size and abundance differences are a lawful tradeoff.

While you’re analyzing a digital screen on the dashboard, an expressive yawn escapes a man’s mouth. You twist to see Ezra stretching his arm out, eyes and nose scrunched in delight at the wringing out of his muscles. A smile graces your face as you take in his exaggerated display of awakening, and he mirrors your smile when he opens his eyes. His arm relaxes at his side, and a raspy morning voice greets you, “Hi.” You smirk at his unadorned statement and say back, “Hi.” He holds your gaze for a moment before turning to pick his mechanical arm up off the floor next to him. After losing his arm on The Green, his prospecting abilities fell drastically. He had to take out a loan to pay for the artificial limb, but it would restore his talents, so it was a fair deal. That’s why the three of you had gone on this mission, rather than building your friendship on Puggart Bench: to harvest aurelac to repay the loan.

Cee grabs both you and Ezra’s attention as she wakes with a start. Getting up and out of her pilot’s chair, she merrily folds her blankets and marches over to her equipment hatch. You and Ezra share a look of bewilderment, and he questions, “Good morning?” She flips around to you both, forgetting that you were in the pod with her. She cheers, “Good morning!” Reading the two confused expressions that watch her, she explains, “I want to go and look at this area that we missed yesterday. It has a lot of hills, so maybe that’s an indicator of more deposits. I was going to look at it yesterday, but then we came together for lunch, and I completely forgot about it until now.” Noting that she is the only one in the pod that is anywhere near awake, she asks both you and Ezra, “Is it okay if I go by myself?”

Memories of the last 36 hours flicker in your head, discomforting your nerves. It’s not that you don’t trust Ezra, but you don’t trust Ezra. The outburst that he had the other night frightened the shit out of you, and you’ve been wary to interact with him at all, let alone without Cee present to diffuse the situation if it got too tense. The fear he had shoved upon you was still fresh, but the excitement in Cee’s face and your tiresome brain convinced you that it would be okay. Maybe during this time alone you could patch things up with him. Him and Cee had given you a general rundown of what had happened on The Green when you first met, but you could prod Ezra about the details. Hopefully you could uncover some explanations to his night terrors.

You look over at him to gauge his reaction to her proposition, and he’s staring at you with puppy-dog eyes. His mouth is turned up in a soft smile, and you can’t help but grin at the way his hair is still unruly from his sleep. Suddenly you feel a pleasant heat between your legs, and you can’t tell if it’s just your body waking up or the overwhelming desire to pepper a million kisses over the sleepy man’s face. Refusing to admit to yourself that the latter is the true culprit of your wetness, you shake your head slightly to rock you out of your trance and say to Cee, “Yeah, that would be fine.” Ezra’s smile at you widens before he turns to Cee and inputs, “I concur. Like always, just be sure to watch your surroundings carefully. You’ll find us here when you return.” She nods once and turns to her equipment hatch, signaling you and Ezra to turn to yours as well to give her some privacy as she changes. Once changed, she closes her hatch, puts her helmet on and departs, “I’ll be on channel one. See you guys later!” You and Ezra both give halfhearted waves, still too tired to formulate any meaningful words. The door to the pod closes behind her, and you are alone with Ezra.

The anticipation of being alone with him made you more anxious than how you feel now, letting your eyes fall to the man still on the floor. He’s already looking up at you, the lazy smile still pulling at his cheeks. The desire to invite yourself into his bed, wrap yourself in his blankets and limbs in order to match the warmth that is flooding your genitals, and doze off into a lustful nap tries to take over your mind. You fight it with everything you have and make your way over to your pilot’s chair. Positioning yourself so that you’re facing Ezra, he simply asks you, “Hungry?” You nod your head and he reaches behind himself. His hand reappears with a Bits Bar, tossing it to you. The only sounds that fill the pod are the crinkling of the wrappers and your respective chewing. Although you’re both preoccupied with eating, Ezra’s silence is deafening. He tended to drop his confusing lingo when talking to you, since he wasn’t trying to trick you. He hadn’t had the courage to reveal his true feelings to you yet, which will be so poetic and heartfelt it will make you sick to your stomach, so he stuck to simple statements. He wanted you to note the difference between his conversations with you and other people, so he made it a very clear point to forgo his prose and expansive vocabulary. He wanted you to note that he revealed his truest sentiments to you and tried his best to hide them from others.

The peaceful nature of the morning encouraged you to bring up an irritating topic with him, “I only want to prospect because I want to help you guys.” He tries to keep his eyes on his food, knowing that looking into your eyes will ignite his possessive and protective nature, “I know that. And it doesn’t matter how many motives you come up with, birdie, there will never be a time when you’re in my care that you will prospect. That’s the extent that I will let this conversation fester to.” His dismissive demeanor infuriates you. You fire back at him, trying not to let your tension leak into your voice, “I’m not Cee. You are not my parent or my guardian, you’re my partner. So there’s no social expectation that I have to submit to your desires.” His irritation grows, entertaining his fingers by folding the wrapper, “That is technically true. But a good partner will never put their partner at risk. And I have deemed it risky for you to prospect.” His retaliation sets you off. You didn’t want this to turn into an argument, but you also don’t want to back down from this. Your eyebrows crease together in frustration, your arms cross and your mouth sets itself in a frown.

He looks up from his distraction and becomes infuriated by your look. Now he’s pissed. He begins a verbal knife fight, “Maybe if you had experienced what it’s like to have a shitty partner, you would appreciate my efforts to protect you.”

“I’m not ungrateful.”

“In a way, you are. You abandoned everything you had on Puggart Bench once you met me and Cee. You had friends, a nice family, a stable living situation, a good education. Don’t blame me for a position that you put yourself in.”

“First of all, that’s how it looked to you. Second, a good education in prospecting! Maybe if you weren’t staring at my ass every second of every day, you would have asked me what I was studying. I can probably prospect better than you can.”

“I’d find pure, mocking enjoyment in seeing you try to harvest. I would bet my life that I can prospect better than you can, even with my impediment!” He motions to his mechanical arm.

“You wouldn’t have the impediment if you weren’t so fucking devious! And don’t even get me started on the arrogance, or the fucking pretentiousness!”

Your overheated exchange comes to a halt when the pod’s door opens. Cee climbs in, and you and Ezra try to mask your fury for each other as much as you can. She acknowledges the two of you and says, “Just need an air filter.” The atmosphere turns awkward as you watch her get what she needs out of her hatch. She’s leaving as soon as she came in, and you hold up a parting hand and say, “Be safe. Have fun.” She tilts her chin at you, and Ezra chimes in, “Be safe, Sparrow.” She exits, disappearing into The Blue.

Her interruption quelled the fire that burned between you and Ezra, subsequently drowning you in a wave of guilt over your words. Ezra’s looking down at his hands, shadows keeping his expression unreadable. You uncross your arms in defeat as you feel tears gather on your bottom eyelids. Opening your mouth to apologize, Ezra puts his hand up and directs, “Don’t apologize.” You protest, “But-” He cuts you off, “Don’t. Apologize.” You audibly sigh and sit back in your chair, not facing him anymore. You wish you could just kiss him. It would shut the both of you up and finally bring your shared, passionate feelings to the surface. Instead you opt to stare at the program board in front of you. How sexy. Such allure. You roll your eyes at your own naivety.

Both of you sit and replay all of the moments that led you to the peak that you sit atop, questioning how to safely start the descent. You decide to break the silence with a neutral topic, “Why do you call her Sparrow?” Staying turned away from each other, Ezra answers, “Well, now that I have two little birds in my life, I have to distinguish them.” Your heart glows at his comment, but it’s not enough to wipe the somber expression off of your face.

“Why Sparrow though?”

“She’s adaptable. She’s been able to keep a sane mind while traveling through Puggart Bench, The Green, The Ephrate, The Blue. The presence of others doesn’t deter her from her work, yet she’s not aloof to their existence.”

His musings entertain you. Your anger begins to become a thing of the past as you get off of your chair and sit down on the floor a few feet away from him. Being on a literal level playing field only increases your ease.

“What are you?”

He smirks, “A magpie.”

“I should’ve known.”

You share a bit of laughter before he explains, “I’m intelligent in trickery. I take pride in my illusions, but that’s not all I possess. Once I find my mate, I become protective of them, sometimes to the point of absurdity. A magpie male and female share the brunt of building a nest; as all great relationships should split the responsibility of reconciliation equally.” Regarding his last sentence, he raises one eyebrow at you. You stretch your legs out so that the soles of your shoes touch his.

“Magpies mate for life.”

You break your eye contact. You have grown shy from his pointed allusions, so you playfully fiddle his feet with yours. A moment passes before he says, “You’re a snow goose.” Confused, you look up at him, “A snow goose?” He nods enthusiastically, “Yes, a snow goose.” You shake your head, giggling, “I’ve never heard of those.” He leans forward with shock, “Really?” “Yep.” He shakes his head once and stands up to open his equipment hatch above you. He pulls out a book and sits back down, this time beside you. All About Birds. You assume the birds are alphabetized as you watch him flip the book open about 4/5 of the way through, and he presents you with a page: “Snow Goose”. Amused by the fact that he wasn’t lying, you let out a laugh. He laughs with you, “My Goose needs to brush up on her avian animal knowledge.” A minute has to pass before the cackling subsides. Then he paraphrases, “Snow geese are another adaptable bird, preferring to travel in packs. They roost mainly in bodies of water: marshes, ponds, the like. Ringing true to stereotypes of the general breed, they are very territorial of their property once they claim what is theirs. Snow geese have a brilliant white coat, which I equate to your magnificent aura. They are similar to magpies in that they mate for life.”

You look up from the book and are greeted with chocolate eyes glazed in infatuation. Thighs and arms pressed together, you turn to rest your chin on Ezra’s shoulder. Flickering eyes go back and forth between his eyes and his lips, signaling to him that if he wanted to kiss you, you wouldn’t object. He inserts, “Snow geese also don’t lack in paying homage to their reputation of being loud bitches.” You gasp and lay a swat on his chest as he chuckles away at his poking. After he has had his fill of laughing, you return to your resting place on his shoulder and let out a sigh.

A few quiet moments go by before you look up at him and admire the handsome, irritating, brave, stubborn, loving man who are you enamored with. You reach your hand up and comb your fingers through his hair once, twice. He leans into your hand as you continue to brush his locks, “Ezra?” He hums, eyes closing rapidly from the lulling pleasure you’re giving him, “Mm-hm?” You whisper, “I’m sorry.�� A stark contrast from earlier, he allows your apology. He opens his eyes and they’re dripping with honest remorse and helpless romance, “I’m sorry too.”

Yesterday didn’t amount to what you had originally planned to accomplish, but it was still a good day. Despite all of the insult hurling and badmouthing, you and Ezra ended the day on a nice note. Getting to the bottom of his nightmares could wait for another time. You both had needed a day of fun together to put aside your hostilities before you embarked on discussing trauma. Cee had returned without a problem, hands void of aurelac but filled with notes of The Blue’s landscape.

You wake up, startled, All About Birds slipping off of your lap and onto the floor. You had sliced it out of Ezra’s dormant fingers after he had fallen asleep, your curiosity piqued from his earlier paraphrasing. Cee’s awake and bustling about in the pod, trying to find something, anything, to eat that isn’t a Bits Bar or a Slurry Pack. As you lean over to pick the book up from the floor, you catch Ezra’s eyes on you.

He’s standing at his equipment hatch, doing some much needed cleaning up. He’s a traveler who believes in organized chaos, that putting things in their “right” place takes up too much valuable time.

You smile up at him shyly and as you sit back upright with the book in your hands he says, “Did you find any specimens that better suit us?” You shake your head, “No, you were pretty damn spot on with your choices.” He flashes a smug grin, one that paints your face pink with amusement. Cee plops down in her chair with a huff of defeat, unwrapping a Bits Bar. Ezra hears her and says, “(Y/N) and I will take today’s assignment, Cee. You’ve warranted yourself a break after your ingenious expeditioning yesterday.” She says, “Good, because my legs feel like jelly.” The three of you laugh and you get up and rush to your equipment hatch. With your and Ezra’s friendship on its way to restoration, you were excited to find what the day would hold. The two of you get dressed in a flash, and you tell Cee before putting on your helmet, “We’ll be on channel one, like always.” She sticks a thumb up from behind her chair, and with that you and Ezra are on your way out of the pod.

The rays of the Sun today are periwinkle, streaming through small gaps in the overhanging vegetation. The air is tinted royal blue, the trees shimmer with teal sparkles, the soil a shade of navy. You inhale deeply as if you can smell the fresh air through your air filter, imagining a place where you could be with your gang without all of this clumsy equipment, without giving up the majesty that this landscape has.

Ezra snaps you out of your daydream, “Where to today, Snow Goose?”

You pull out a map from a pocket on your back and scan it, looking for any uncharted territory. “Let’s go west today. There’s a big chunk of land that we haven’t documented yet.”

He nods and begins your quest by turning to the left and walking. You follow him, folding the map and keeping it in your hands. Little conversation is shared between the two of you for the first bit of the journey and the silences aren’t awkward. The majority of your time is spent looking up, admiring the scenery as the Sun comes up and illuminates more of the land. Different hues of blue are unearthed as light reaches deeper crevices: the underside of leaves show turquoise veins, the inside of a hollowed tree trunk boasts a purplish-blue hybrid. The puddles on the ground vary in shape, size, depth and color, and are scattered about the ground in an oddly methodical fashion.

After a while of marveling at the sights, you regret getting dressed so quickly. You hadn’t brushed your hair properly, and the braid you had put it in was loose. Rubbing against your helmet with all of your head turning, the braid had fallen almost completely out of his shape and it was threatening to combine with your sweat to mold to your face. You instinctively put your hands to your helmet to try to push it out of your way, but you are met with glass resistance. Ezra, peeking over his broad shoulder to make sure he hadn’t lost you, notices your frustration, “Let me help you with that.” You furrow your eyebrows at him and wave off his help, “No, it’s okay. I’ll deal with it.” He shook his head quickly and spins on his heels, looking around and spots two conveniently placed tree stumps, one behind the other, that will accommodate te his fantasy. He gestures to them, “Have a seat, Goose.”

You stand there, not wanting to indulge in the dream. This was just as much of a dream for you as it is for Ezra. He watched you, everyday before you went out of the pod, braid your hair and willed that one day it would be his hands that would twist your smooth locks. And everyday you braided your hair, you would envision him standing behind you, concentrating hard on his handiwork, his hot breath cascading down the back of your neck, his knuckles grazing your back. Ezra starts walking over to the stumps and motions for you to follow.

You obey his command and sit down on the seat in front of his, scooting back so that he doesn’t have to reach very far to touch you. A depressing gasp fills the air as you detach your helmet and set it in your lap. Ezra’s gloves appear over your shoulder, “Can you hold these for me?” You were already turned on enough by the thought of him braiding your hair, now he would be braiding your hair with naked fingers and you got to hold the battered material that guarded those impossibly large hands almost everyday? Yeah, this is an illusion. You wait to wake up from your slumber. but are reminded that this situation is very real when Ezra’s fingers reach around your head to brush the sweaty hairs out of your face. His touch is gentle, unlike from the incident a few days ago. Now that you aren’t fighting for your life, you can take in the small, romantic details that you didn’t notice before. The pads of his fingers are rough but not scratchy. You see his fingernails, neatly trimmed and free from any sort of grime. How he pulls off that sorcery while being a prospector, regardless of the gloves, you will never know.

You tense as his fingers glide over your bruised neck, collecting your hair and bringing it all to your back. He holds your hair in one hand while the other stutters on a bruise. He senses your unease and strangles out, “I’m sorry.” You grip his gloves a little tighter, trying to fight your tears from spilling, and shake your head slightly, “It’s okay.” You’re ready to move past it. It’s important to remember that it happened, but you’re ready to rebuild your relationship. Like he jabbed at you the other day, leaving Puggart Bench had been tough for you. You worry that your leaving left behind permanent scars that would impact the relationships you had there. Ezra and Cee feel like the only friendships that you can count on to last. You need them.

Knocking you out of your despair, Ezra pulls your hair to one of your shoulders and rests his chin on the other. He turns his head so that his breath spills across your bare neck. He runs a finger lightly across a bruise and asks, mouth millimeters away from your skin, “May I?” You nod, and he plants an imperceptibly light kiss on your neck. You let a tear dribble down your cheek, wiping it away as quickly as it ran.

A thought enters your mind: my god, his lips are soft as fuck. The combination of the softness with the tickling of his patchy facial hair was heavenly, if not orgasmic. You giggle at your own thoughts* (*thots), intriguing Ezra, “What is it?” You decide to be transparent, “Nothing, it’s just that your mouth is soft as fuck.” A hearty laugh erupts from his chest, “Now I don’t want to put an end to your seductive observations, Goose, but I want this to be an innocent affair.” You smile and sit up straight, letting him know that you are willing to drop the flirtation. For now.

His fingers separate your hair into three sections and he says, referencing the other day, “As a treaty to our battles, I would like to clarify that I don’t think you’re ungrateful.” A soft smile graces your face and you input your own treatise, “And I don’t think you’re arrogant or fucking pretentious. You are a little devious though.”

He chuckles, “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be the scoundrel that I am, now would I?”

You shake your head no. No, he wouldn’t be the scoundrel that you are not so secretively in love with. As you sit there, enjoying the limited amount of time you are allowed with your helmet off, the details of your dreams prove to be true: you can feel Ezra’s concentrated breath warm the nape of your neck, his knuckles tap your suit when he twists your hair a certain way. You yearn for the day that you will be able to touch each other, feel each other’s true weight and texture, without the suits getting in the way.

“So, if you’re so good at prospecting, why don’t you tell me how you do it?”

His tone is playful and your situation could not be more peaceful, so you decide to indulge him, “Well, first you have to find a deposit, which is usually indicated by a lump in the ground.”

He verifies your first step, “Uh-huh...?”

“Then you want to pour a solution into the deposit’s hole. You don’t want to pour too much though, or else it could cause an explosion.”

Ezra’s hands stop. You turn and ask him, “Is everything okay?” He nods, his eyes first staring off into the landscape and then refocusing once they land on you. He continues to involuntarily nod as he says, “That’s what permitted Cee and I to escape The Green. She threw an entire pint of solution into a deposit. Nearly blew the entire place to bits.”

You feel rude when you realize that your mouth is hanging open in shock. You close your mouth and words about his time on The Green tumble out of his, “I am devious, indeed. But there were people--beings--there that would make me look like an angel. I take responsibility for killing Cee’s father because he tried to hijack my stash. A man’s work is no petty thing, Goose. I ended up having to kill two others there, in the end. I overestimated our luck after the first one, thinking that it would’ve been a simple escape. I killed the other mercilessly. You see now, Goose, the dangers that I encountered on The Green alone. I would never be able to forgive myself if I allowed you into harm’s way, and you became a tragedy.”

You reach a hand out and cup his face, which he leans into. He still holds onto your hair, your braid halfway done, and you say, “I was ungrateful, and I’m sorry for that.” He shakes his head once, taking your hand from his face and kissing your palm, “Now you see why I wanted to strangle you in my nightmare. I dreamt that you were someone else, some other thing, that was threatening to drag our trio back to that wretched land.” You both breathe out a shaky laugh, trying to lighten the mood. Even though it was nervous, you are glad that the both of you are taking some steps in the right direction.

He clears his throat and sits up straight, “Now, after you dodge an eruption, what is the next step of prospecting?”

You face ahead and let him continue your braid as you speak, “Next you want to remove the husk from the deposit, and cut the cord that connects the two. Then you want to remove the inner membrane from the husk.”

He quizzes you, “And what’s inside the inner membrane?”

“The aurelac gem.”

“Correct. Continue.”

“Then you want to cut out any blisters, but if you cut too carelessly you could puncture it, which will release acid. If that happens then the gem ceases to be worth anything.”

“That’s where my expertise usually falters.”

“Finally you want to remove the gem from the inner membrane, douse it in fazer solution, and you have your stone.”

He tests you again, “What is the purpose of the fazer solution?”

“To stabilize the gem and increase its clarity. Higher clarity grants higher payout.”

He pats your shoulder twice and ties your hair off with the hair tie you used for your loose braid, “Fantastic job, Goose. Couldn’t have explained it better myself.” He stands, walks around your stumps and holds a hand out to you. You take it, even though you were perfectly capable of getting up yourself. You got to hand him his gloves, and he stops you, “Wait a minute.” Both of his hands come to the sides of your face and push a few stray hairs behind your ears; the finishing touches to his masterpiece. You can tell he did a good job without having to look at it, since it didn't feel too loose or too tight, and the problem you had before was now solved. His tongue darts out and runs the edge of his bottom lip before he takes a step back, throwing his hands up, “Voila!” You giggle, eliciting a smile from Ezra wide enough to make the skin around his eyes crinkle in happiness. You hand him his gloves, which he puts on before you both secure your helmets back to your suits.

Ezra checks in with Cee, “Everything alright, Sparrow?”

A few seconds pass before she answers, “Yep, just listening to my music. Everything alright on your end?”

“Affirmative. We’ll be staying outside for lunch. Over and out.”

Ezra’s eyes gaze into yours for a brief moment before they move past your shoulder, eyebrows raised and mouth agape. You ask, “What?” before turning and following his stare. A patch of undisturbed soil, littered with lumps. In his rush by you, Ezra grabs your hand and pulls you along with him as you run to the potential aurelac deposits, laughing at his enthusiasm. He halts at the brink of the field, choosing which one he wants to dig up first. You suggest, “Why don’t we start from the outside and work our way in?” He nods, “That’s a great idea,” and drops to his knees. You stare at the mound in front of him as you sink down to the ground, pulling out your map. You mark where this field is located as he preps his harvesting tools. Once he’s prepared, he sighs and takes your hand, “Do you want to help me, Goose?”

You nearly spring to your feet with excitement, “Would I ever!”

He beams at your reaction and begins the process by clearing the dirt away from the mound to reveal the deposit. “How about for this first time, you just hand me the tools?” You nod, taking this as slowly as he wants to, “Whatever you’d like.” He grins as he cuts a hole in the deposit, knife already in hand. “Solution,” he requests. You hand him the bottle and he does the honor of pouring it over the deposit. A white steam emits from the hole, and he reaches in and grabs the husk. “Let me cut this cord, you can do the next one.” You agree and watch as he cuts it with his knife. He places the husk on a flat patch of land and requests his next tool, “Scalpel.” You hand him a Ralon Crusader Laser Scalpel and watch him work.

Laser scalpels are primarily used for precision work, like this step and the removal of blisters, while any generic knives will do the job when cutting the cord or opening up the deposit.

You watch as he makes an incision in the husk, handing you back the tool once he’s done. He wrangles the inner membrane out of the husk and holds his hand out. You know that he wants the scalpel back, and you give it to him. He flashes you a smile for your readiness, but then hands you the scalpel back. You take it, confused, and he says, “I’d like you to cut the blisters off of this one.”

Your pupils narrow and your muscles grow tense. You know the steps of prospecting backwards and forwards, but you had never carried out a lab experiment, let alone prospected aurelac in the wild. Ezra lays a gentle hand on your forearm, “I have eternal faith in you, Goose.” You move toward the membrane and turn the scalpel on. Ezra holds it steady for you as you go to remove the blister. There’s only one, which is a slight relief. You plunge the scalpel into the membrane, thinking that the skin would be thicker, and a hiss greets you. You pull back as the membrane deflates and an amber liquid seeps from it, the hissing never stopping. Your mortified eyes look up into Ezra’s and you immediately apologize, “I’m so sorry, Ezra, I thought that-” He raises a hand, “It is not a big deal in the slightest, Goose. I’ve never come across a prospector that didn’t puncture the membrane, or fail to mix the fazer solution correctly the first time.” He senses your lingering humiliation and grabs your shoulders, turning you even more towards himself, “Really, it’s fine.” You want to melt into his hands, crawl into his lap and just hide there until you feel better, but you know that you have to move on.

He points to the mound behind you, “Let’s try that one.” You stay on the ground and move the tools with you, while Ezra stands and walks over before he squats. You hand him the knife, watch him repeat the process and hand him tools as he needs them: slice the deposit, squirt in the solution, remove the husk, sever the cord, open the husk, take the membrane out. He looks to you, “I want you to try again.” Turning the scalpel on, its vibrations feel more vigorous against your heightened nerves than they did last time. Ezra assumes his position of securing the slippery pod, and you begin cutting. Again only one blister, you circle the blemish with the blade. Once the circle is complete, Ezra reminds you, “It’s easiest to pull it off with your fingers.” You follow his directions, turning the instrument off and setting it to the side. You pull on sticky flesh, and the part that you cut comes off easily. Ezra sighs, “Incredible.” Sliding his fingers in between the membrane and the aurelac, he pulls the rock out and discards the pouch. He calls for the fazer solution, which you hand him and watch as he washes the gem with it. Another hissing sound can be heard, much quieter than the one that came when you punctured the membrane. He holds the aurelac up to the blue Sun, and both of you observe, amazed, at how the light shines through the gem. Aurelac is an amber-hued stone, sometimes with ripples in the color, encased in a foggy crystal. The blue light complements the orange shade of the gem exquisitely.

Ezra turns to you, eyes bright with satisfaction, hands muddied with gristle, “Superb job, Goose!” He leans into you, helmet shields touching and reaches forward to kiss your glass. You smile and laugh with him in gratification. You can’t wait to harvest the rest of the mounds with your partner.

A warmth you have never felt before bestows itself to you this early morning. It flourishes in your heart and subsequently pumps through your body, reaching from the crown of your head all the way down to the soles of your feet. It stretches from your ribs to the ends of your fingertips, running in cycles back and forth. The cause of this pleasure was not from the large aurelac haul you had pulled yesterday, but from the man that you harvested with. Ezra’s arms encircle you, heavy with sleep. You’re swaddled in his blankets with him, the depths of sleep tempting you to fall back down to their level of subconscious. The Sun hasn’t risen yet.

You had crawled into Ezra’s awaiting lap after Cee had fallen asleep the night before. It wasn’t that you felt like you had to hide your feelings from her, but the dynamic still made you feel a little bit awkward, even with Ezra’s reassurance and Cee’s encouragement to pursue him. You would feel more comfortable if she were to wake up and find the two of you in your designated sleeping arrangements, and not in an amorous yet innocent entanglement of limbs.

You can practically feel a rainbow sprout from your chest as you look up at Ezra, finding delight in his relaxed expression. His hair is messy not from the tossing and turning of a restless night’s sleep, but the enamored strokes of a yearning partner’s fingers. The whirlwind of malachite butterflies in your stomach nudges you away from sleep. You press your hands into Ezra’s chest, where they have been resting, and turn to nuzzle your nose into his collarbone before you start to slip out of his embrace. Gently lifting his arms off of you in an effort to keep him asleep, you fail. He cups the side of your face and rubs his thumb back and forth against your cheek a few times before he lets his arm fall to his side. He gives you a smile of understanding, allowing you to leave him only because he will dream about holding onto you for forever once he drifts off again. You give him a playful boop on his nose before you stand and trudge over to your pilot’s chair, sinking down into your own cold blankets. You try your best to recreate the heat you just deserted by bundling yourself up tight, but it’s not the same. However uncomfortable, you quickly succumb to the temptation of sleep.

The true morning gives rise to an energetic group of prospectors. Still joyful about yesterday’s collection, you, Cee and Ezra are enthusiastic to stroll around The Blue again and see what else could be in store for you. Stretching in your chair, Ezra grabs your raised hands and leans over the back of your seat. You look up into his eyes and he greets you, “Good morning, Goose.” You smile and tease, “Good morning, Magpie.”

Cee blurts out, “Finally, you give her a nickname too!” You and Ezra laugh as he releases your hands, and you turn to face Cee at her equipment hatch. “I like Magpie too. Very fitting,” she raises an eyebrow at Ezra and he shoots you a wink. You get up to fold your blanket, Ezra glides over to his own equipment hatch, and Cee says, “You know, I say you guys last night.” Your face instantly beats red, and Cee notices, “No, it’s fine. It makes me happy to see a couple that can get over obstacles and love each other through it all.” You still feel a bit embarrassed, but shrug it off.

A word she chose makes you question Ezra, “Are we a couple?”

“Of course. We’ve always been partners, haven’t we?”

Suited up, the three of you enter The Blue. After your daily assessment of the land (beautiful, as always) you turn to Cee and wait for her direction. She had mapped out the majority of the Blue Moon the day that you and Ezra stayed inside the pod, so you trusted her guidance the most. Ezra asks, “Where to today, birdies?” Cee analyzes the map before pointing to an area, “This block was filled with hills. It didn’t look like there were many deposits, but then again I’m not the best at spotting them.” Eager to start, you ask, “Which way do we go?” Ezra glances at the map, points to the right and commences your expedition, “This is the way.”

💘taglist: @pascalpanic

#ezra x reader #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect #ezra fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #ezra x fem!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pascalitos #found family trope #prospect 2018

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barnesbabee · 4 years

Text

I’ll Fuck You Like A Pornstar || K.H

Summary: Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be fucked, like a pornstar?

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Reader

Words: Ask God, he might know Idk

Genre: Smut

⚠ drinking, punishment, pornstar!au, spanking ⚠

A/N: I love Hongjoong’s lips :)). Enjoy 💖

ᴄʀ: ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱʙᴀʙᴇᴇ

Seonghwa ver. || San ver. || Jongho ver.

“Good morning Sir! What can I get you?”

“Your number.”

Your sleepy eyes widened and you took a better look at the smiling man in front of you. He had bleached hair, swept back into a beanie, and several earrings decorating his ears. His eyes were serene and soft, and his style, although casual, was very eye-catchy. The man was gorgeous, there was no doubt. Your doubts rested in his question: why did this idol-like stranger want your number? You had very visible eyebags from the lack of sleep and there was a huge stain of your shirt from when you had tried to make a smoothie but forgot to put the lid on the blender.

You had no answer to the flirty line, not because you were shy or not used to being courted like that, but because your sleep-deprived mind could not formulate an adequate response.

He chuckled with the most attractive voice you’d ever heard when he saw you frozen. You watched as he pulled out his phone from the pocket of his jacket and unlocked it, handing it to you.

“Is that a yes?”

You finally broke out a smile and bit your lip. You hesitantly reached for the phone and typed in your number. Instead of typing your name, however, you decided to redeem yourself from your previous lack of response and type in ‘princess’.

The male’s smile widened when he saw your name and he chuckled.

“Well then, princess,” He said, looking at you with a hedonistic expression as his tongue grazed his lower lip “I would like a caramel macchiato to go.”

“Certainly Sir, and what would be the name for the cup?” You asked, teasingly, holding a black pen near the cup.

“Hongjoong.”

The second he left the café (after winking cheekily winking at you of course) you couldn’t help but wait for your phone to vibrate with a text from him. You had never noticed how many texts you received throughout the day until you were waiting for a particular one.

The day went on painfully slow, but your heart was racing, waiting for the handsome man’s text… You were getting a little impatient, you had to admit, and by the time you were closing up the shop, you were a little upset about the fact that you didn’t even get a ‘Hello’ text.

You were pouting to yourself when a loud sound rang from your pocket. Who could be calling you at this hour!?

You set down your broom and grabbed the phone.

Unknown Number

It had to be Hongjoong, although you were a little surprised, you didn’t expect him to straight up call you, who does that? Nevertheless, you slid your thumb across the screen and accepted the call.

“Hello?” You asked, beginning to think that this was all a prank.

“Hello princess, are you done with your work?”

His voice was mellow and in that tone, he could make you do whatever he wanted. You bit your lip at the pet name. You loved to be called princess, but it just sounded so much better when it was him saying.

“Just about, I’m closing the café now.” You informed him.

There was a pause, and when he was about to speak you interrupted him.

“Hongjoong, why did you call me though? You know a text would do just fine…”

He chuckled from the other side of the line.

“Texting just feels so impersonal, you know? Especially when I’m about to ask you out for a drink.”

This man had no shame… He sweet-talked you like you were his already, and he spoke with an overwhelming amount of confidence.

“Out? Right now?”

“Yes, right now. Meet you in front of your café in say, two hours?”

You smiled to yourself and grabbed your coat, ready to leave.

“If you’re not on time I’m leaving.”

“Gotcha, princess.”

You hung up, and the cheeky smiled stayed on your lips. You were attracted to the way he behaved and carried himself. He was good-looking, he was fashionable, and he knew so. Hongjoong knew exactly how to handle himself and fuck, it was hot.

You nearly sprinted to your house, out of excitement. It was about twenty minutes away from your workplace, but you managed to get there in twelve.

As soon as you stepped into your apartment you stripped from your work attire and threw it somewhere on the floor. You only had about one hour and fifty minutes to get ready, and you had to rush yourself.

One hour and a half passed in the blink of an eye, and you absolutely had to leave the house.

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror and pulled down the tight skirt of your flashy cocktail dress. You nodded at the hot-shot staring at you in the mirror and threw a jacket over your shoulders as you left the house.

You hated to walk in a short dress, alone at night, so you walked as fast as you could in those nude-coloured stilettos of yours.

When you could finally see the café in the distance, you noticed someone leaning against the big glass window. His style wasn’t very common, but you had to admit that he looked amazing in that deep red turtleneck and black beret.

“Hello!” You greeted once you were close enough.

Hongjoong looked at you from head to toe and smiled. You watched as he said nothing, while straightening himself, taking his phone from your pocket and showing its screen to you.

“8:32. You’re late, good girls aren’t late.” He said, expecting a flustered response.

“Well then, I guess you’ll just have to punish me.”

Hongjoong cocked a brow and looked at you in amusement, absolutely enjoying your blatant behaviour.

“Let’s go then?”

You and the male walked to the famous bar nearby making some small talk before you reached.

You learned that the both of you shared a common passion: getting absolutely shitfaced. You loved the you that came out whenever the shots of tequila hit. You loved the thrill and shamelessness drinking brought out of you.

The bar wasn’t far, so in just a couple of minutes you were entering the alcohol and smoke-reeking place. You huffed in a breath, as if you were smelling the fresh air in a park. You missed these environments.

Hongjoong noticed and chuckled, leading you to a booth that had a round table, and a large, red sofa almost all the way around it.

You sat in front of each other and ordered a couple of light drinks, since it wasn’t even close to an acceptable hour to ask for a round of shots.

“So, princess,” He started “mind telling me your real name?”

You blushed a little at the fact that you hadn’t even told him your name yet.

“My name is Y/N.”

He nodded along to the information.

“Pretty name.”

You chuckled and looked at him teasingly.

“You’re not gonna hit me with a ‘Pretty name, just like you’ line?” You asked.

Hongjoong smiled at you and took a sip of his scotch.

“No, I don’t need to.”

You looked at him in disbelief, at how smooth he was, and took your drink up to your mouth to hide the slight pink tone on your cheeks.

As per usual, most of the talking the two of you did was to get to know each other, but the whole hour or so of sharing stories and moments from your lives came to a halt with a particular question.

“Hey, you already know what I do for a living, but what do you do? Are you like a model? ‘Cause you sure dress like one.”

Hongjoong smiled at the compliment and chuckled, looking at the ground for a second before looking straight into your eyes.

“Something like that…”

You noticed the way his eyes darkened for a second and you tilted your head to the side, in confusion.

“What do you mean, ‘Something like that’?”

Hongjoong leaned in, close enough so his lips were almost touching your ear.

“I’m a pornstar.”

You almost spit your drink back into your cup, but when you saw him pull away with the biggest, smuggest smirk of the night, you forced yourself to recompose.

“What? Does that freak you out?” He asked, although he didn’t look the slightest bit preoccupied if him being a pornstar bothered you.

You bit your lip in return and shook your head.

“Of course it doesn’t…” Hongjoong paused for a second and moved closed to you, so close that his thigh touched yours.

He looked down at your exposed legs and placed his hand on one of them, squeezing it lightly. Your eyes followed his tongue, as he swiped it across his lower lip.

“Because you like it, don’t you?”

The question kind of caught you off guard, and your eyes snapped up to meet his. Only then did you realize how close you were, just a mere centimeters away from your noses touching.

His lewd whispers made you a little tense, and a small pool started forming between your legs. You pressed your thighs together, and when Hongjoong felt it, he moaned quietly.

“Have you lost the ability to speak, princess?” He asked smugly, thinking that he had finally been able to make you speechless.

You smiled and bit your lip, trying to decide if you should say what was on your mind or not. Ultimately, the bravery your couple of drinks had given you won over.

“Not at all… I was just imagining how well a pornstar must fuck.”

Hongjoong’s expression darkened and his face inched even closer, until his lips were brushing over yours.

“Do you want to find out?”

You replied by fully pressing your lips on his, moving them slowly yet roughly. Hongjoong’s hand traveled up your inner thigh until it was dangerously close to your aching core. His fingers dipped harshly in your skin, and you were sure they would be marked there the next day. Neither of cared who was watching, you just wanted to feel each other, to taste each other.

Once you pulled away, he stood up and extended his hand for you to take. Confused, you grabbed your bag and took his hand in yours. He pulled you close and walked you out of the bar.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

Hongjoong looked at you and let go of your hand, so he could sneak an arm around your waist and pull you closer.

“To a place where I’ll make you scream my name.”

You felt giddy and nervous, like a teen girl about to get her first kiss.

After a couple of minutes of silent walking and some groping from both parties, you arrived somewhere you assumed was his house. He immediately pulled you into his bedroom, and you looked around, curiously.

The room was exactly what you expected. Big, with wine-coloured walls, setting a sensual tone around you, a big, king-sized bed with black sheets, a fancy wardrobe, a black desk by the window and a body-lenght mirror by the wall opposite to yourself.

You looked at the iron bar above the bed, stuck to the wall and furrowed your eyebrows.

"What is that for?" You asked, pointing at it.

Hongjoong's arms snaked around your waist and pulled you close to him, your back hitting his chest. His lips lingered on your neck before placing a long kiss below your ear.

"Do you want to find out?"

The way his voice sounded, dominant and enticing, sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself leaning into his touch.

He chuckled at your response and bit your neck harshly, making you whimper.

Hongjoong’s fingers played with the hem of your dress for a second, before slowly sliding it up your body, and eventually off of you. He gripped your waist and turned you around, taking his sweet time to admire your body.

He was quick to undo your bra, and you allowed it to fall from your body, giving him a perfect view of your breasts.

“Fuck…” He cursed, before locking his lips with yours.

You moaned into the kiss when you felt one of your nipples being pinched harshly, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth.

He pulled away and bit his lip.

“Get on the bed, I’ll show you what that iron bar is for.”

You excitedly took a place on the bed and watched him strip down to his boxers. Fuck, his body was really a sight to see…

Hongjoong approached the big wardrobe and fondled with some items in a drawer you couldn’t quite see. When he turned around, you saw a pair of big, shiny handcuffs playing in his fingers.

Your eyes widened and his glistened.

He approached you slowly and motioned for you to turn around. You obliged, and he hooked the handcuffs’ chain around the bar before tightening the silver rings around your wrists.

Hongjoong pat your ass softly and kissed your cheek.

“You look so good like this… Now be a good girl or I’ll have to punish you, okay?”

“Okay…” You replied.

You were almost certain that you wanted to act out, just so he could punish you.

Hongjoong slipped off your panties and spread your legs wider. The cold air hitting your bare pussy made you feel exposed. A good kind of exposed.

“Don’t cum.”

Before you knew it Hongjoong slid between your legs and slammed you down on his face. You immediately moaned at the contact, and gripped the chain that connected the cuffs together.

Hongjoong’s tongue delivered kitty licks to your womanhood and entered you occasionally, and he couldn’t get enough of how well you tasted.

His tongue swirled around you like he knew every corner of your body. Hongjoong would moan from time to time, the vibrations driving you insane.

Your legs absolutely gave in the second he began sucking on your clit, and even though you did your best not to cum, you ended up crumbling under his touch, and you climaxed with a loud cry for his name.

Hongjoong immediately lifted you up and knelt behind you.

He held your hips tightly and you could feel his boner pressing against your ass as his lips neared your ear.

“You misbehaved, princess… I’ll have to do something about it, no?”

Your tongue grazed along your lower lip and you nodded. You felt a sharp pain in your ass, before he stood up and walked to the wardrobe.

You heard him rumble through items, followed by a whip in the air.

Fuck.

It didn’t take long before you felt a stinging pain in your ass cheeks. You arched your back, He alternated between them, and the strength only increased at each whip. Suddenly he stopped and caressed your ass with one of his hands.

“Are you hurting too much?” He asked, genuinely worried.

For a second he forgot you weren’t one of his co-workers...

You smirked and glance at him over your shoulder.

“Are you holding back too much?”

Hongjoong loved a challenge, and the way you kept teasing him and pushing him to the edge… It was paradise.

He swung his arm back and you could swear you saw stars when he whipped your ass. You whimpered and shook whenever the leather material hit your skin, and you could pretty much feel yourself dripping onto his mattress at this point.

Your wrists were already hurting from the amount of wiggling and pressure you put into them, but the reddening skin on your wrist was the least of your preoccupations.

“Hongjoong… Please!” You begged loudly.

“Please what princess? Have you had enough?”

You nodded furiously.

“Yes… Please fuck me Hongjoong, I need you in me now!”

He swiftly undid your handcuffs and grazed his thumb over the red marks softly, as he pushed you down onto the mattress. Hongjoong spread your legs and knelt between them, removing his boxers in the process.

As he let his cock free, it hit your stomach, causing you to whimper at the small contact. Still not done with playing with you, Hongjoong pressed the tip on his dick against your slit and ran it along your folds, loving to see your desperate reaction, and the way your hips bucked, begging for more.

“Fucking stop teasing me and fuck me already!” You yelled as you gripped his wrists, that held your hips.

“As you wish, princess.”

He finally entered you, with a fulfilling harsh thrust. The way he moved in and out of you was absolutely the way of a professional. He had you screaming and squirming in no time, and the amount of stamina he had was unreal.

Hongjoong thrust into you faster and harsher at every thrust. The look on his face was almost as if he had some competition to win: it was feral and rough, his hair was stuck to his forehead and his eyes were dark.

“Hongjoong… I-I’m gonna cum again…” You said between breaths.

The male slapped one of your breasts and grabbed it harshly.

“Cum for me princess. I wanna feel you around my cock.”

A couple more thrusts and a harsh squeeze on your nipple were what triggered you. Your toes curled. you grabbed the sheets harshly and your eyes shut tightly as a new wave of pleasure washed over your body.

Hongjoong let go of your breast, but his grip on your waist tightened, and his thrusts became uneven and sloppier. It was the lewd sounds of his cock slamming into your dripping core, along with your dirty sounds that sent him over the edge.

He moaned lowly and pulled out, painting your stomach and breasts with a warm load of cum.

You locked gazes with him and took some of his spurt in your finger, then inserting it in your mouth as you tasted him.

Hongjoong squeezed your thigh and smirked.

“Whatever will I do with you, my princess.”

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