#and im excited to be home in a few days and excited for hair dye and excited to see irls again even if its complicated | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

etherrreal · 3 years

Text

“the things you do for charity”

Pairing: kenma x gn!reader Genre: fluff Summary: kenma's always been a private person, but it was getting increasingly harder to keep his partner off his streams while you live together; so, he decided to join his two loves together for a 24-hour charity stream extravaganza. Word Count: 3,408 Warnings: some swearing, i suppose there are some spoilers from the manga about adult kenma's job? A/N: i'd give my left tit to play some minecraft or mario kart with kenma tbh -Luna

Kenma's career as a popular streamer was one of the many facets of him that shocked you when you’d started dating two years ago. The two of you had first met in an Animal Crossing discord for your city meant for trading and making friends.

After you had gone over to his island to adopt Raymond from him, he let you keep all of your Nook Mile Tickets with the stipulation that you kept in contact with him to "give him updates" about how the cat villager was doing in his new home. His dorky way of trying to flirt with you was what made you pursue him in the first place, and somehow it had led to a very fulfilling relationship.

It was revealed early on that he was a streamer, but he never expanded on it regarding the actual numbers. Curiosity got the best of you one night, and you decided to google him. Besides also learning that he was a YouTuber, you found yourself in awe at the numbers he managed to accumulate across all of his social media.

And if that wasn’t enough, he was also apparently the CEO of his own business.

Once you moved in together around the one-year mark of your relationship, you got to properly witness the amount of work put into streaming and maintaining a social media presence. This also meant that you got to read the wild comments that were left on all of his platforms–and see the occasional surprise nude picture whenever he opened up his DMs around you.

Because of this, Kenma sat you down to have a conversation about your potential appearance on his social media. You both decided by the end of it that his audience would get to know that he was in a committed relationship, but you agreed it would be best to not show your face or reveal any identifying information of yours.

It had been a year since having that conversation, and you’d both stuck to the agreement closely. The most his audience had ever seen of you was your hand whenever you refilled his water bottle for him.

Of course, it was hard sometimes, especially when you had to remain extra quiet around the house and refrain from yelling out a 'baaaabe' whenever you needed something from him, but since he had his own soundproof office, it lessened the room for any accidental error.

Overall, you were content with never showing your face to his audience for the rest of his career. You knew how nasty the internet could get because of their parasocial relationships with influencers and streamers alike, especially when they discovered those influencers and streamers had a partner who wasn't them, even if they knew they never had a chance. You weren't sure your skin was thick enough to deal with rabid angry stans.

Which is why it was so shocking when Kenma decided one day to nix the agreement.

You were in your shared bedroom answering some emails when he came in. He was dressed in a baggy hoodie, sweats, and tied-up hair; his typical look for a stream.

After some time, you noticed that he was still standing in the doorway, not saying anything. When you glanced up at him, you found him awkwardly toying with the strands of hair that had fallen out of his bun, looking down at the ground like he was just waiting for you to notice him.

"Is there something you need, baby?" you asked. "You're just standing there all adorably shy."

"Yeah, so, um, I'm going to be doing a 24-hour stream this weekend to raise money for charity."

"Oh, really? Cool! I guess that means I'll be going to bed alone that night," you joked.

"Yeah, I guess. Um..." He started before scrunching up his face like he was uncomfortable with what he planned to say next.

"What is it? Do you need me to stock up on snacks and energy drinks? Just send me a list. I can pick them up tomorrow."

"No, that's not it. I was thinking of making a stretch goal be you coming on stream so we can play Minecraft or Mario Kart or something...I mean, I totally understand if you don't feel comfortable. I could always replace it with something else. I know they've been wanting to see me dye my hair a bright color and dress up like an e-boy, so--"

"Really!?" you nearly yelled.

"What? That they want me to dress like an e-boy? Yeah, Kuroo said it would–"

"No, I mean..." You tried to fight the confused expression that was growing on your face, but your squinted eyes gave you away. "You really want me on your stream? Like face and all?"

"....Yeah, I really want to be able to share this with you. But don't feel like you have to do it just to make me happy."

It was a large ask when looking at the full picture. Kenma had his fair share of fans and "stans" who lacked boundaries, as seen from a select few who visited your home several times this year, or the handful that found you on social media already just from seeing a glimpse of your college ring on the hand wrapped around Kenma's water bottle.

There could be a chance you could receive direct hate on your social media just because you were a person who dated a popular streamer. You would then be in the public eye with little privacy and have a magnifying glass on all of your actions and words. Anything you did would then reflect on Kenma.

What if you messed something up and then Kenma lost viewers? Would they try to cancel you or him for it?

You backed away from all the negative thoughts before you could spiral and looked at the metaphorical 'pro' column.

If you agreed to appear on his stream, you would no longer have to sneak around your house in fear of being heard or showing up in his face cam. You both wouldn't have to feel guilty playing games off-camera with each other because you knew Kenma could be streaming it instead.

And who knew? Maybe his fans would like you. You had to admit, it would be a nice ego boost knowing that you were accepted by so many people.

And, most importantly: you could physically ask him in person what he wanted for dinner instead of texting him and waiting an hour for a break so he could respond, while you sat in the next room, starving, stuck in an endless cycle of wondering whether you should make a snack or if you should just hold off for dinner.

Maybe this was a good idea.

"Okay,” you decided, “I'll do it."

"Oh... alright. Cool." Kenma was trying his hardest not to show how excited he was that you agreed. When he saw the contemplative look on your face, he was sure you would decide that it'd just be too much work and say no. But hearing you agree made him giddier than he would ever admit to.

Despite the cool and collected façade he thought he was putting on, you saw the smile that threatened to break through and the red tips of his ears. You wondered if he felt the same weight being lifted off his shoulders as you did, knowing that, after this weekend, you'd both be finally out as an official couple to the world.

And, of course, the nausea of having to do all of it live in front of thousands of people. No biggie.

Saturday afternoon came and at 12pm sharp, Kenma began his grueling 24-hour charity stream. The bar had an overall goal of $150,000, and it began filling up at a constant pace right from the start. Donations ranging from $5 to $500 were flowing in rapidly, and you were trying your best not to feel nervous.

You both agreed that if he reached $50,000 within 5 hours, you would join him for an hour or two of Minecraft later that night. Part of you hoped that the donations would slow down and plateau for a bit, but when you saw Kuroo had donated $1000, specifically with the message that he hoped to see you on stream soon, you realized that it was a pipe dream.

So, you had to be your own hype person for now, to get prepared to show your face to thousands of people and not disappoint Kenma.

Whether it was the promise of your face reveal or the people who genuinely adored charity, it took only four hours for Kenma to break $50,000.

When he saw the number update live on stream, the viewers witnessed the most amount of expression Kenma had ever shown: eyes wide as saucers, mouth slightly agape, body frozen. You could see the gears struggling inside his head struggling to turn and comprehend what they all managed to do so early on in the stream.

"Thanks so much, everyone, for being so generous today... I guess this means we'll be having my partner on later tonight," he announced. You watched his chat explode with excitement, his special emotes flying in the chat.

You picked up your phone to shoot Kenma a quick text.

[you]:: hope you're ready to put our minecraft beds together in front of thousands of people 😏

Unsurprisingly, he left you on read. But dating him for this long meant you weren't even a little bit afraid of double or triple texting.

[you]:: maybe we can kiss under the light of an exploding creeper 😫

[you]:: or have a romantic walk through our rainbow sheep while a phantom looms overhead 🥰

It was after the third text when you finally saw him pick up his phone to text you back. You eagerly awaited his response, only to cackle when you read it.

[my sugar daddy]:: im going to replace you with hinata as my partner if you dont stop

Instead of annoying him any further, you set your phone to charge on your nightstand and went into the bathroom to get ready for the stream later.

Once you emerged, you picked up your phone to check the percentage and noticed a text from Kenma stating that he'd have you on at 8pm. You decided to spend the time until then cooking up some dinner for the both of you.

It seemed like time flew by because by the time you were done eating your food, it was 7:45pm. Only fifteen more minutes before you were live in front of all of Kenma's supporters. You refilled your water bottle and sat on the couch, staring at the blank T.V. as you practically dissociated from reality until Kenma came out of his office to retrieve you.

You noticed that he looked just as nervous as you did, despite his face not showing it the way yours did. His shoulders were up to his ears with tension, and his hoodie drawstring was pulled almost all the way through due to him fiddling with it.

He turned briefly to you after he brought you into his office, gesturing to make sure you knew to wait until he gave you the cue. He sat down, unmuted himself, and took down the 'away' screen he had for his audience.

This was it. Everything was going to change in literally ten seconds.

"Well, everyone...please welcome my partner, (Y/N)."

You walked cautiously around his large gaming chair and sat next to him in your modest desk chair that he had rolled into the room for the occasion.

Okay, you thought to yourself, now don't fuck this up.

"Hi, everyone."

Nailed it.

There was a painful moment of silence before the stream finally caught up, and you both heaved a sigh of relief when you saw nothing but declarations of excitement. Amongst the 'AHHHs' and spam of emotes were sweet comments about your appearance and how cute you two looked as a couple. You peeked over at Kenma and saw the ghost of a smile on his lips, elated to know that he was just as relieved as you were.

"Okay, let's start with the gameplay while we answer some questions," he said.

The questions and gameplay started out mild; when did you both start dating, how did you meet, who asked the other out first. They even asked a few simple questions about you specifically, like your favorite anime and your star sign. And while you did see a few bans in the chat after some inappropriate questions –no, you will not tell them the color of your underwear– most were easy and simple enough to answer.

Then they started to get a bit spicier.

"Bokutoslefttit donated $69.69 and asked, 'what is your main pet peeve with Kenma?'" he read, muttering a 'wow' under his breath at the username.

"Ooh, how can I be polite when exposing you?" you pondered while beating a cow to death with your sword. "It's probably how loud he gets whenever he's playing games with his good headphones on."

"I don't get loud," he defended.

"Oh yeah, you do. I've had to come in here several times to tell you to shut up like I'm your mother. I did it literally two days ago when you were playing with Lev."

"... Next question."

You rolled your eyes at his lack of comment but glanced over at the chat to pull up a new question. You stifled a laugh when you read, "Girlboss420 asked 'who has a fatter ass, Kuroo or (Y/N)?'"

"I'm not answering that."

"Come oooon, this is a Q&A. Can't have the Q’s without the A’s."

"Nope."

You were about to start reprimanding him for implying that Kuroo's ass was fatter than yours when you noticed he ran past you with a group of pillagers following closely behind. You turned to head into the house but when you opened the door, you noticed it was blocked off by obsidian.

"You are the absolute worst!" you exclaimed.

You made a break for it, sprinting past the shooting pillagers and around to the front of the house. You made it inside with only 2 hearts to spare. You turned, in real life, to Kenma to see him tight-lipped to avoid smiling about his betrayal.

"I'm moving my bed downstairs for the rest of the stream."

You both carried on with the stream without another incident, turning to the chat every now and again to answer some questions. Kenma even apologized to you by bringing home a horse that was named "I'm sorry."

It was about an hour and a half after you sat down when Kenma decided that he needed a bathroom break. Your heart fell to your ass when you realized that you'd be all alone to entertain his chat. You considered saying that you needed to pee as well, if it meant not having the spotlight on you.

Instead, when he got up to pee, you smiled and asked him to bring you back a snack and a refill. Oh, how the turns have tabled.

In the meantime, you decided to scroll through the chat and some of the donations to pick out another question to answer since Kenma was gone. You were initially looking for a funny or vulgar comment when you saw one that had a completely different vibe.

"Kermithateblog donated $25.00 and asked, 'what's your favorite part about being with Kenma?' Wow, that's a really sweet question. Let me think for a moment."

You paused to reflect on your relationship with Kenma over the two years you’d been together. You'd had your fair share of highs and lows like any other couple, but, in the end, you both learned how to work things out so you were both equally as happy in the relationship.

"So, as you guys know, he's a busy boy with streaming, creating content for YouTube, and also being a CEO of his own company, which all takes up the majority of his time," you began. "But when he finally can shut off his screens and crawls into bed late at night, I know that he's 100% there with me at that moment. He is able to give me his undivided attention and make me feel like his love for me comes above his love for gaming."

You gave a pause, trying not to get too emotional. You rarely got the chance to gush about Kenma because you knew how much he hated having attention on him, so if this was going to be your only opportunity to do so for a while, then you were going to take it.

"What y'all don't know is that he is the biggest baby when it comes to cuddling," you laughed. "He is absolutely the little spoon most of the time, and he loves when I stroke his hair and love on him all night. In a weird way, it makes me feel special and loved knowing that he trusts me enough to be vulnerable with me. I cherish the amount of time we have together because of that."

What you didn't know was that he had come back from refilling your water bottle rather quickly and stood outside the doorway to hear your speech. His heart almost burst when he heard your tender words describing how he made you feel. He knew that you rarely got to hear how much those quiet moments at night meant to him because he was guarded with his feelings.

Which is why he started into the room on a mission.

You smiled as soon as you saw him. "Welcome back, babe, we were just talking about--"

He approached you swiftly and leaned down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. You hardly even got to bask in the moment before he was pulling away, setting down your water bottle as he sat back down with his controller in hand like he didn't just expose to his audience how much of a softy he really was.

It was in that moment when you realized how glad you were that you’d decided to appear on stream because you'd be able to look back at that clip over and over again to relive the intimate moment.

Noon on Sunday came at last. Kenma would finally be free from the prison of his office. Not to mention he could finally get off his ass and stretch.

Between your official appearance on stream and the sign-off, you popped in a few more times to say hello to the chat when you brought him some snacks and drinks. You stayed up through most of the night, although you accidentally napped for a few hours during the dead of night which gave you a little boost in energy.

In the end, the stream was a monumental success. Kenma had even managed to blow past his goal of $150k and make it to over $200k, which meant that he'd be getting the full e-body makeover for his next week of streams.

By the time Kenma came into your bedroom after freshening up and having a small snack, you were already dead asleep with your laptop propped open to show his now offline stream.

He tip-toed around the bed quietly, closed your laptop, pulled the covers up and over your curled-up body, and slipped in himself. As he settled, he felt you shift and grab at his worn t-shirt, opening your eyes slightly just to confirm that it's him.

He pulled you against his chest tightly, his body finally able to relax. He was sure it wouldn't be too long before he completely fell out.

"That was more fun than I thought it'd be," he heard you utter quietly.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." His fingers gently danced across your shoulder blades as you mushed your face into his clean shirt. "I can't believe we raised so much today so quickly."

"I'm so proud of you, baby. You worked so hard on this."

"I also donated $2000 anonymously to speed up the process," he mumbled sheepishly, pressing a gentle kiss on the crown of your head in hopes to lessen the blow of his secret.

It was quiet for a moment, and he wondered if he’d genuinely pissed you off before he felt the vibrations from your laugh against his chest.

"...I can't wait to ruin your hair, e-boy."

Written by: Luna

#kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader #haikyuu x reader #kenma imagines #haikyuu imagines #kenma x y/n #kenma x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#our writing #kenma fluff #haikyuu fluff #luna writes

439 notes · View notes

undersero · 3 years

Note

hi hiii sweet angel, im here to christen your new blog with a lil request heheheee♡

may i pls request some sexcii times with possessive!baku? i can't stop thinking ab how dreamy it wud be to be his lil princess n to hear him say "you're mine" when he's fucking u dumb😩😩😩

he makes my heart n coochie go adsgdcbsvdvshsfgs yknow????

hehehe tyyyy,, luv u babieeeeee♡

amy amy amy amy amy amy!! i love u! i hope you enjoy this...i sure enjoyed writing it ehehehehe

warnings: unprotected vaginal sex, very light choking/breathplay, possessive bakugo is possessive

It doesn’t matter if the entire world knows you’re together. It doesn’t matter if you have his name tattooed on your forehead. You could wear a nametag cementing you as his, for all he cared.

The only thing Bakugo really needed was to be balls deep in your drenched and clenching cunt, hearing your slutty, needy little whines telling him how good he is, and how you belong to him and no one else. He can say it all he wants, and he does. Tells you every day that “you’re mine”. Doesn’t hold as much weight as when you say it to him, though.

And nothing makes him harder.

When he comes home that day, he’s exhausted, but wound so tightly that resting or going to sleep isn’t an option; this is tremendously frustrating for him, but he knew this would happen. After a chaotic, stressful, and downright irritating week at his agency, he knew that, weekend or not, he’d still be wound too tightly to relax.

You’re the first thing he sees when he comes inside your home. Standing at the sink in a cute, frilly pink apron that drove him positively mad with desire. You were dressed in normal house clothes, shorts and a t-shirt, but the sight lit a fire inside his gut that could only be doused by pumping you full of cum.

You hear the door shut and turn, looking over your shoulder at him and giving him a smile. Beautiful, loving eyes, excited smile; you feel pleasantly warm inside. Katsuki’s heart is flooded with affection for you as your eyes meet his, and it does nothing to soothe the stiffy forming in his pants.

“Fuck.”

You blink in surprise, a short chuckle leaving your lips at his comment.

“Wanna give me some more details there, bud?” you ask, wiping your sudsy hands on your apron as you turn to face him fully now, tilting your head in curiosity.

Why did you have to look so fuckable all the time?

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles as heat rises on his cheeks.

You blink in surprise once more, the warmth through your body turning into heat as you tilt your head downwards a bit, a shy smile tugging at your mouth as you grow bashful.

“I… not even done up or anything…” You’re distinctly aware now that you chose not to shower that morning, that there’s no makeup on your face, and that your hair probably looks messy. You’re aware that the shorts you’re wearing have floured handprints smeared on them from baking the day before, and your shirt is too big and has suspicious stains all over, likely from hair dye and painting experiments.

Beautiful isn’t something you feel at the moment. But that’s not how Katsuki sees it. He sees his wife, pretty and sweet and full of life. He sees you comfortable in your clothes, in your habits, and in your home together. The adoration that lit inside him so many years ago, when he first met you, still burns strong, and has never wavered or weakened- if anything, it’s become even stronger.

“I don’t care about that,” he responds, toeing his shoes off by the door and finally stepping into the kitchen. “You don’t have to be done up for me to think you’re beautiful.”

His voice is soft, despite the fact he’s hardening more with each passing second, despite the fact that his body is humming with a heavy need to bend you over the counter and fuck your brains out onto it. Bakugo walks to you, cupping your face in his hands and pulling you in for a soft kiss. Your mouth tastes like the coffee you’d just finished; his tastes like sharp, minty bubble gum. It only takes a second before you melt into him.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, voice low but soft, as he pulls away and looks down at you, eyes dark. He kisses you again, lips claiming yours.

All you can do is nod along to him dumbly, kissing him back with as much gusto and need as he uses while he’s kissing you.

Each passing second with his lips on yours only makes his need grow into a frantic, almost feral feeling in his chest.

He’s not quite sure how he gets you to the couch; the only coherent thought in his brain regarding how much he wants to fuck you, and how he wants to look at you while he does it, and how the kitchen counter just wont do for something like that. Your apron is discarded and your shorts torn off as Katsuki flings them somewhere off into the living room.

He kisses your neck, sucking on sharp, purple marks, each one satisfying the growing urge inside him. The urge to make you his, as if you weren’t already, and he can’t wait anymore. Your body is so warm underneath his hands, so needy for him and what he can give you- what only he can give you. No other person ever could make you feel the way Katsuki does. He knows that. He wants to make damn sure you never forget that, either.

Your hot, wet walls around his cock feel like home. His big hands hold your thighs apart, pinning them down on the couch as he presses in. You moan in pleasure, feeling full and perfect and good under your husband’s watchful care. He is always sure to take care of you, to make you feel so good, to give you what you really want.

He’s got himself so worked up, he’s got you so worked up, that it isn’t long before your breath is hitching, and so is his. And who could blame either of you? His cock, thick and veiny, dragging along your sensitive walls, pressing against all the special little spots that you can never reach with your fingers- the little spots that toys never fully satisfy because they’re not him.

“Who do you belong to?” he pants, breath fanning over your flushed face as he continues rocking his hips into your cunt with brutal force.

“Yuh- yuh- you!” you wail, tears pricking your eyes. Each thrust pushes you nearer to your orgasm and you’re sure that it will only be a moment, a few more thrusts, before you’re cumming on his cock.

His large, calloused, warm hand closes around your throat firmly, not enough to impede your breathing, but enough to get your attention. Enough to excite you.

“Tell me,” he growls.

“I’m yours! I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!”

Moments later, with his thumb rubbing your clit and his hips driving into your cunt, you cum so hard that it takes your breath away and completely envelopes your body in pleasure, causing each nerve to sing with it. His orgasm comes soon after. In the glow of it all, it’s quite apparent to the both of you: there’s no one you’d rather belong to.

#mha smut #my hero academia smut #katsuki bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo #bakugo #for amy my doodle wife

183 notes · View notes

saltedcaramelbastard · 7 years

Photo

local soft punk puts on all black clothes and every star shaped accessory they can find [they/them]

#my face #havent posted selfies in a while bc working in pools 7 days a week means #dont bother with eyebrows and my wardrobe is just bathing suits and nylon shorts #but today my clients were cancelled bc of bad weather so i was like #I GET TO LOOK NICE TODAY AND JUST SIT IN MY HOUSE #also i lost 13 pounds since ive been home from college! ive been working out in the mornings and eating better #quite proud of myself #im growing my hair out a bit longer which just means im not gonna buzz it monthly lmao #then in the week after i end work and before i move in at school im gonna dye it a really cool purple #thatll help tone it anyways as it fades out so i can go back to my blue a few weeks later #im excited #weight ment in tags #side note my hat has cat ears on it...yknow like... nya~ ;3<#nb #selfie #queer

65 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

Can you do 60 for indruck, NSFW? Thank you so much! Love your work!

Here it is! I set it in the same world as this sternclay fill. Credit to @bellafarallones for playing in this space on discord. Apollo is from my Super hero AU

“All I’m sayin is it seems mighty unfair to me that one fella gets a handler-assistant type deal and the rest of us don’t.” Duck crosses his arms as Ned fiddles with the pen on his desk.

“You’re not wrong, dear boy, but Apollo was in high demand from the higher ups-”

“Because he’s a shallow dipshit with a mean streak who’ll be good for ratings?”

“Precisely. He demanded in his contract that we allow his twin to continue his work as his photographer and assistant. He has over a million followers on Instagram, so those photos will be a boost to the show. Just try to get along for the camera’s?”

“His brother ain’t even on camera.” Duck mutters.

“I meant with Apollo.”

Duck shrugs, defeated, “sure thing, Ned.”

As he walks back to the main house, he mulls over the fact that the twin (Indrid, he thinks that’s the guys name) bugs him more than Apollo does. Apollo is vain, mean, and selfish, but at least that gets him things, even makes sense for the kind of show they’re on. Indrid gains nothing by helping him out here. Except protection from the bully, which Duck finds to be the worst kind of cowardice. Hopefully Vincent, this season’s bachelor, will see through the “influencer” and send him packing ASAP.

-------------------------------------

Four weeks in, and this is exactly what Duck was worried about. Not only is Indrid hovering around his brother like a nervous moth (excet when cameras are near, at which point he ducks out of frame), he’s doing fucking nothing to reign him in.

A few frontrunners are starting to emerge, and with that claws are coming out. Barclay, a chef and all around nice guy, is the target of choice. Nico and Josh both took bites out of him this morning. But Apollo sunk his teeth in like a dog on a fox, calling him, among other things, a pathetic, six-foot puppy dog who no man would ever want. The cook left noticeably teary eyed. Duck was about to block the cameras from following when Joseph beat him to it. Which is weird, because he thought Joe couldn’t stand Barclay. Apollo flounces off, but Duck corners Indrid where he’s been stoically watching his brother be a raging asshole.

“What the fuck man?”

‘Wrong twin.” Indrid says flatly, indicating his silver hair, tied back in a half-bun. His dark roots are showing and his eyebrows are black, unlike Apollo’s immaculate blonde dye job and bleached brows.

“Nope, right one. You’re his handler, cant’ you fuckin intervene when he’s doin’ shit like that? Or are you just here to let him hurt whoever he feels like?”

Indrid fixes him with a bitter smile, “If there were a way to make my brother be kind or, indeed, see others as people, don’t you think I’d have found it and used it everyday since?”

“I-”

“You people have no idea how much I’m already doing. I kept him from going after you yesterday by reminding him he looks ugly when he yells on camera. And if nothing else console yourself with the fact you all have only to deal with him for a few months. Some of us have endured twenty-eight years of it.”

With that, he turns and stalks from the room. As he leaves, Duck can’t shake the thought that his black denim jacket and worn jeans fit him better than Apollo’s designer ones ever could.

-----------------------------------

Indrid understands why there’s so much alcohol on set, but he can’t partake (too bitter) and it makes Apollo even harder to handle than usual. Which is why Indrid is out on the grounds at ten p.m, intending to hide from his brother until dawn.

At six weeks in, fan favorites are getting more established and Indrid, needing to predict Apollo’s mood in order to do his job, is keeping a close eye on them. His twin is well-liked for being snarky and hot, though he suspects the large number of contestants means there have been limited chances for his unpleasant side to be showcased. Joseph is another, because of course he is, movie-star handsome with an interesting past. Barclay is beloved for the very things that the other contestants torment him for. And Duck? Duck is quickly becoming the one people think Vincent will choose.

Indrid thinks they’re right. He’s charming in an understated way, funny, and while Apollo needles him for his “dad bod,” Indrid and Vincent have both noticed the muscles in his arms. Who gives a damn about flat abs? Indrid would much rather have something soft to rest his head on while those green eyes look lovingly down at him. His crush on Duck is useless, persistent, and must be hidden from Apollo at all costs.

His foot catches something solid and he tumbles over the obstacle to land ass-first on the lawn.

“Ow.” He glares at the object. The object turns out to be Duck Newton, who's obviously drunk as he sits up.

“Sorry man, thought no one’d come out here. Oh it’s you, it's, uh, fuck, fuck c'mon” he snaps his fingers as he searches his thoughts, “It's cute Apollo!”

“Indrid.” Surely Duck didn’t mean to use that adjective. Right?

“No, I’m Duck?”

He snickers, “No, I meant I’m Indrid.”

“Ohhh, right. You're Indrid. I'm Duck. That's the big dipper” He points at the sky. Indrid follows the line and grins, delighted.”

“It is!”

“Uhhuh. C'mere, can show you more.” Duck pats the spot beside him and lays back. Indrid scoots closer and reclines as well, making appreciative sounds each time Duck shows him a constellation.

As they’re studying the sky, the other man whispers, “Can I tell you a secret? I, I think Joe’n Barclay are into each other now."

“The way they look at each other is not exactly subtle.”

‘“Heh, yeah.” he links his hands across his belly, “I think they're in love. You ever been in love?”

“No.” He sighs, not wanting to dwell on that pile of baggage, “You?”

“Nope. And, uh, don’t, don’t tell anyone but I don't think I am with Vincent. Maybe I could be? Does that make me a bad person? He's nice, think he likes me a lot but, I, I dunno.”

“Not being in love with someone doesn’t make you a bad person. No more than loving someone does.”

Indrid is hard to surprise; years of getting out ahead of his brother and father taught him how to see things coming. But nothing could prepare him for Duck rolling to hide his face against Indrid’s chest. Not knowing what else to do, he pats his back, notices a woodsy scent tingling his nose.

“You smell good.” He winces; that was too creepy, now Duck will pull the comforting bulk of his body away.

“Thanks. I bought a bunch of cologne when I realized I was actually going to be a contestant. News clothes too. Thought it would give me an edge but...I dunno, can't compete with a guy like your brother.”

“Join the club.” Indrid reaches up to toy with a lock of Duck’s black hair, expecting Duck to bat him away. Instead, he sighs and turns his head to give Indrid better access.

“You could compete with ‘im. You're cuter. Nicer too.”

“Oh. Ah. Thank you.”

Duck’s fidgets with the mothman pin on Indrid’s jacket, “You wanna cuddle?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No one cuddles with me. And we ain’t allowed to cuddle Vincent yet.” He looks up, lips pouting just enough to be charming.

Indrid let’s a purr enter his voice, “That’s a shame. I’m happy to cuddle.”

Duck rolls more of his body onto Indrid, resolutely nestling his head under his chin and tangling their legs together. His hands stay on Indrid’s chest and shoulders, though he’s now drunkenly petting Indrid’s collarbone, making him shiver. He expends four months worth of daring in a second, wrapping his arms around the curves of Duck’s torso. When Duck’s fingers brush skin instead of shirt, Indrid whimpers, then bites his lip and prays it went unnoticed.

“You don’t get cuddled much either, do you?” Duck murmurs thoughtfully.

“No.”

“Damn shame, you’re real good at it. Can cuddle me any time.”

Indrid “mmhmms” knowing the promise is like the stars; bright and comforting in the darkness, but ultimately beyond his reach.

Three day later, he drops his guard; Apollo’s been on his good behavior since Vincent’s been spending more time with him. You’d think Indrid would learn by now that all his venom has to go somewhere.

He’s huddled down in the rec room trying not to cry; it’s pathetic enough that he let such childish insults get to him, but to cry over them would confirm everything his brother said.

“Indrid? You, uh, you okay?” Duck’s reflection in the darkened T.V approaches his own.

“I'm fine.” It’s the same inflection he’s used hundreds of times, but Duck sits down on the couch all the same.

“Do you, uh, need a hug?’

“No.” He replies a hair too quickly.

“Do you want one?”

“......Badly.”

Duck opens his arms and Indrid shifts on the cushions, doing his best to curl his long limbs so they’ll fit in his embrace. The shorter man notices, concern flashing on his face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Okay. You, uh, wanna hear the most exciting news of the day?” He waits for Indrid to nod, “there was a cougar sightin’ in the foothills near here!”

“That is both very exciting and alarming.”

“Doubt it’d go after folks, they try to steer clear of people. We don’t have ‘em back home, but you learn what to do when you’re also learnin how to deal with bears.”

“How does one deal with a bear? Other than buying them a drink.”

Duck snorts, relaxes further into the couch, “Depends on how soon you see ‘em…”

They emerge two hours later, and Indrid is so engrossed in their conversation about hiking incidents that he runs smack into a camera man. While he’s apologizing profusely, Duck guffaws, steadies him, and leads him off in search of somewhere to watch the sunset.

-----------------------------------------

“Oooh, ooh, look, sea lions!” Indrid points to the distant wharf.

“Good eye. Man, those fuckers are big. Glad none of ‘em were in the water when we did that fuckin cliff dive.”

“I for one would pay good money to see my brother chased by a sea lion.”

Duck chuckles, pops the tab on his WhiteClaw. They’re having dinner on the beach, a gourmet spread meant to encourage them to show off their pallets. Indrid took Barclay’s recommendation and ordered the whole, grilled snapper, which he assumed he’d be eating alone; Vincent’s attention has been on Duck ever since he went swimming this morning. Duck seems to be enjoying it, but come dinner time he demurred (“gotta let some of the other fellas have a chance”) and brought his basket of fried oysters over to join Indrid on the sand.

“Speakin of your brother, kinda surprised he didn't make any digs at this whole, uh, situation.” Duck gestures to the torso Indrid is currently aching to lick droplets of saltwater from. To subdue the craving, he licks salt from his fingers before replying.

“I, ah, the last time he tried to, I reminded him of all the pictures I have of him eating. He hates to be seen eating. Most of the time.” He tilts his head towards his twin, who’s chowing down next to Vincent without a care for the cameras. Indrid sets his hand on the warm sand, “I’ve been trying to, well, reign him in as you suggested. Or at least make him think twice about his choices.”

(Indrid omits the part where he’s most likely to risk it if Duck is the one with the target on his back).

Duck sets his hand down beside Indrid’s, brushes sand from the side of it with a calloused thumb, “Mighty good of you. But, uh, think I mighta read things wrong that day. You gotta handle him how you think best. Just, uh, just promise me you won’t sacrifice your own well-bein’ for my sake, or anyone else’s. We’re all grown-ass men; we can handle it.”

“I promise.” He lies.

The other man leans back on his hands, green eyes drifting across the waves. Indrid would gladly sit in silence the rest of the night, it’s so easy to be comfortable in the lull when it’s Duck filling the space beside him.

Eventually, the ranger murmurs, “It’s so fuckin breathtaking. The ocean, I mean. Maybe if you live on a coast you get used to it but man, it is somethin;.”

“More so than the forest?”

Duck smiles, “It’s like apples and oranges. Monongahela got its own charms; you’d have a blast takin pictures and drawin there, believe me. If, uh, if Apollo and I both make it to the final four, uh, maybe we could take a few hours durin’ my hometown visit and I could show you my favorite spot.

Indrid imagines the two of them beneath the trees, walking hand in hand.

“I’d like that.”

---------------------------------------------

“You know you’re just a distraction, right?”

Indrid doesn’t look at his brother, just flips the page in his book, “I doubt that. You’ve said, often, that I’m too off-putting to be interesting.”

“Not when there’s competition for someone superior; Duck knows he might not win. You’re his back-up if he doesn’t, and a way to kill time until the end. Once Vincent sends him home, which he most definitely will, he’ll keep you around until something better comes along.”

“Don’t act like you know him.” Indrid hisses, looking up just in time to see something scurrying behind the triumph on Apollo’s face: fear.

So, his brother has a new weakness. He’ll tuck that away for later; this is shaping up to be an unpleasant conversation, but not one requiring quite that degree of weapon.

“You should thank me. If I weren’t so captivating, Vincent would spend all his time with Duck. Then you’d be without any attention at all. Even Duck’s taste isn’t that abysmal.” He grins his several thousand dollar smile, “he and Vincent are probably laughing about it right now.”

Indrid stands, crosses the tiny room, “Shut up, Apollo.”

Then he slams the door. There’s a yelp, followed by “you hit my nose, you pathetic excuse for a man, ow, open this door this instant I’m not done with you!”

He flicks the lock and sits back on the bed. There’s a tin of sensory putty on his nightstand and he opens it, playing with it between his fingers. Duck brought it for him after a museum date with Vincent. The image of him not only thinking of Indrid when he saw something, but then buying it for him just to see him smile makes him want to grin and hide his face in a pillow like a teenager who just got asked to prom.

But maybe this date is going differently.

Indrid squeezes the putty, repeats the mantra he’s had since he was a child, “Apollo always lies. Apollo always lies.”

Eventually, he’s calm enough to work on some tattoo commissions, is coloring away when there’s a knock on the door. A secret knock Duck invented as a goof. Throwing open the door reveals the shorter man wearing a suit jacket and an exhausted expression. Indrid gestures to the bed, shuts and locks the door as Duck slumps on the mattress and sets his head in his hands.

“Whelp, that was a shit-show.”

“What happened?” Indrid sits cross-legged beside him.

“Vincent went in for a kiss and I, uh, I turned him down. I mean, he took it well because he’s a sweet guy but I, I feel like shit.”

“There’s no shame in not wanting to kiss just yet.”

“That ain’t the problem. I, I wanna kiss someone on this set, but it ain’t him. Indrid” he looks up, green eyes watery, “Indrid, I think I’m fallin in love with you.”

“Oh. I, are you sure-”

“The whole night, and I mean the whole fuckin night, I was thinkin about you. Thought how nice the trip to the botanical gardens would be with you there to point out color combos and get excited about butterflies. Wanted to hold your hand over dinner. Fuck, when they brought out the dessert menu all I could think was how fun it’d be to order one of each thing to surprise you so you’d do that thing you do with your hands when you’re real excited.” Duck turns, sets his hands on Indrid’s shoulders, “‘Drid, if you don’t want this, I’ll back off but-”

Indrid cuts him off with a kiss, let’s strong arms pull him down to the bed and presses as close to Duck as he can, as if any space between them might be a way for the universe to push them apart.

“Than fuck” Duck pants, cupping his face, “wait, fuck, what do we do now? I can’t string poor Vincent on.”

“We’ll get them to let you out of your contract. It can’t be that hard, right?”

--------------------------------------------

“Absolutely not” Ned shakes his head, “dropping out of the show is out of the question.”

“But that ain’t fair to any of us. Can we at least tell Vincent the truth?”

“No, it needs to look as if he naturally decided not to choose you. If not, we could be accused of manipulating results; the last time that happened, the ratings tanked for that season and the next. And my predecessor was fired.”

Duck looks at Indrid, “Guess I’ll just...pull back? That way Vincent won’t have a reason to choose me and’ll let me go soon.”

----------------------------------------------

“Droppin out is outta the question, huh?” Duck mutters to Indrid as they watch Barclay and Joseph walk off holding hands, the host eagerly asking them questions as they go.

“I suppose he didn’t drop so much as sprint.” Indrid glances at the rose in Duck’s hand, “congratulations on making the final...well, final three now.”

“Thanks? Guess Apollo’s pretty happy about it too.”

“Yes, but his ego needs no stroking.” Indrid smiles, “maybe this means you’ll get to show me the woods?”

“I hope so. Huh. What are they gonna do with the rest of us when it’s not our turn for the hometown visit?”

The answer turns out to be: drag everyone to each hometown. Because they no longer have Joe’s trip to do, Ned decided they needed more scenes of the contestants exploring where their competitors came from.

Kepler is first, and tonight is the night Duck’s been dreading. His romantic, home-town date that everyone expects to end with at least some kissing. He manages to make it through dinner, even enjoys showing Vincent the down-town he spent years roaming. But as they start down the river walk for a romantic stroll, his heart is trying to smash its way out of his ribs.

“It’s alright, you know.” Vincent stops, guiding Duck to face him, “the fact you want to be with Indrid.”

“I, uh, fuck, I, I don’t not know, uh, fuck-” he closes his eyes, “how’d you know?”

“I’m more observant than I get credit for.” Vincent brushes his cheek, “I’ve had a hunch for weeks now, but I kept you around because I liked having you here, even if I suspected it wasn’t going to end with us together. I’m very fond of you, Duck. You deserve someone who makes you happy. I promise I’ll send you home this next rose ceremony”

“Christ” Duck chuckles, “you’re a hell of a guy too, Vince. I hope whoever you pick treats you right. I, uh, can I, should we…?”

Vincent plants a chaste kiss on his cheek, then smiles, “go get him.”

----------------------------------------

“Any twos?”

“No. Go fish.”

Apollo grumbles as he takes another card. Given Duck and Vincent are on their date, neither he nor Indrid is having a good night. Before Indrid can make his ask, his twin says, “How do you get people to like you?”

“Why do you care? You’ve made it this far, so obviously Vincent likes you a great deal”

“I don’t just mean him. I, I mean, I want him to like me. To want me. But I suspect he’d like me better if other people did.”

Indrid idly taps his cards, “I suggest you stop acting like our father.”

“I’m nothing like him!” Apollo squawks.

“Oh, but you are. Everything he taught us you still hold as true; you’re just the newest version of men like him. Self-absorbed. Cruel. Shallow. I’m amazed you’ve gotten this far with Vincent, given that the age difference means you’d be caring for him in his old age.”

“I, I can care for him. I will!”

“Apollo, I wouldn’t trust you to care for a potted plant.” He sets his cards down.

“At least I’m not a-”

“Ambitionless deviant who has to ride his brother’s coattails to survive?”

“Wha--how-”

“Like I said; you’re just like him. Down to your insults.” Indrid stands, “I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

His brother remains speechless--a rare state for him--as he closes the door and heads for his room. He doubts Duck will do anything on the date (hell, the two of them have only been able to steal some kisses now and then), but the whole charade has him feeling low.

There are far more cameras in the rented house than there were a few hours ago. Which means the rest of the crew is back. Does that also mean…

“Hey, sugar. I was just lookin for you.”

--------------------------------------------------

Duck’s glad his door is open, because otherwise Indrid would have smashed it to pieces dragging them both through it. He’d only gotten out the barest explanation before the taller man was kissing his face and tugging at his clothes, purring “mine” over and over again.

“Yep, all yours.” He shuts the door as Indrid mouths at his neck, “which also means you’re all mine.” He yanks Indrid’s black sweater up and over his head, sends the matching t-shirt after it a moment later. Indrid whines, fumbling with Duck’s dress shirt, and he gets an idea.

“Uh uh, only good boys who show me why they deserve it get to feel me up.”

Indrid groans into his shoulder, fisting the fabric of his jacket “What constitutes good behavior in this instance?”

“One sec, don’t go nowhere.” He starts to step past him, pauses to grips his chin and pull him into another kiss, “and no peekin.”

As he digs through his bag for the strap on he brought just in case, he keeps an eye on Indrid to be sure he’s following the directions. The taller man’s fingers twitch, but his head stays still. God, Duck is going to memorize the shape of each of the tattoos decorating his skin with his mouth.

“You did real good.” He slips around Indrid once more, resting his back on the wall. Indrid notices the new bulge in his pants and thuds to his knees.

“May I?”

“You better.”

Indrid undoes the button of his fly. Then he looks at Duck over the rim of his glasses as he takes the zipper between his teeth and pulls it down. When the black silicone of the strap breaks free, Indrid cocks his head as if unsure of his options. Duck doesn’t really have a plan--he just wants to be with him, to make him feel good and show him just what weeks of pent-up desire have done to him--but he’s starting to regret that choice.

Indrid flicks hair from his face and wraps his lips around the head of the cock experimentally. He hums, sucking on it a moment, then pulls back blushing, “This is going to sound strange but, ah, I, I really like that. It’s such a lovely texture on my tongue, it’s, it’s almost soothing to suck.”

“Guess you better keep suckin it then, huh?” Duck runs the fingers of his right hand through Indrid’s hair.

“Is that really alright? It can’t feel like much on your end.”

“Don’t mean it ain’t fun to watch. But, uh” he touches the edge of Indrid’s red glasses, “it okay if I take these off?”

Indrid nods and Duck slides them free, tucks them into his breast pocket for safekeeping as Indrid draws the cock into his mouth again. He focuses on the head at first, humming and moaning as it bumps his cheek. Then Duck sees him swallow and relax the muscles of his jaw as he presses closer. Little puffs of breath tickle Duck’s skin as Indrid gets most of the cock in his mouth, cheeks hollowing and head bobbing as he sucks. Hungry noises burlbe up his throat, and the more he lets himself go the messier he becomes, spit coating his lips and eyes fluttering closed in bliss.

“Okay, I lied.”

Brown eyes shoot him a disbelieving look.

“This ain’t fun. This is one of the hottest fuckin things I’ve ever seen.”

Indrid wiggles happily on his knees, left hand dropping to rubs his own cock through his jeans.

“Needy little thing, gotta have somethin down your throat and around your dick at the same time.”

“MMMhhmmm” Indrid purrs, the picture of filthy perfection.

“If, if you swallow the whole thing, I’ll let you finger-fuck me.”

Both hands fly to his thighs with an excited moan. Indrid’s brow crinkles with determination as he slowly, carefully brings his lips to the base of the toy. Duck groans out “good boy” and shoves his pants down, Indrid helping to drag them to his ankles. Indrid keeps his left hand on Duck’s hip while the right hovers below his folds. Duck takes it, the toy making the angle a bit awkward, and guides it against him.

“Start with one.”

Indrid nods, moans reverently as he obeys. Duck curses, looks down to find Indrid watching him attentively. Duck is going to wreck him. Then he’s going to cuddle him to sleep and wonder at the fact he got this lucky.

“You’re doin’ great, sugar. Promise I’ll tell you if you need to adjustOH, ohyeah” he lets his head rest against the chipped white of the door, “that’s the spot. Fuck it, add one more, Ahfuck, yeah, those artists fingers are fuckin perfect for this.”

Another purr and then a sharp, choked noise. Duck looks down, realizing he rolled his hips without meaning to. Before he can apologize, Indrid grips his thigh and shakes his head.

“You like that?”

“Mmhhmmm” Indrid traces a heart on his belly.

“You’ll pull off you need to?”

“Mhmmmm.” Indrid curls his fingers as his stretched lips manage to grin.

“Fuck!” Duck giggles, “okay, if my darlin wants his face fucked, that’s what he’ll get.” He keeps a hand on Indrid’s shoulder as he lets loose, grunts and curses mingling with the increasingly wet moans of his cock claiming Indrid’s throat. Soon he’s out of words, too busy with the sight of himself forcing Indrid’s lips apart as he tightens around his fingers. Handjobs are a toss-up for him most days; sometimes they work, other times he can’t cum from them at all. It turns out what makes it very easy to do so is-

“‘Drid, fuck, fuck, sugar, yeah, right there, rightthererightthere ohfuckyeah.” He cums, jerking his hips hard enough to punch a new, high sound from Indrid’s throat. The other man pulls off, rests his cheek on Duck’s belly with shuddery, satisfied sighs.

“Y’know” Duck unbuttons his shirt from the bottom up so Indrid can more easily nuzzle the skin there, “I had this whole plan where I was gonna fuck you with this and then ride your face to cum.”

“I’m not opposed.” Indrid grins, bouncing a bit.

“Yeah, but I’ve only got one in me tonight. So” He tosses the shirt away, pulls off the harness as Indrid nibbles his hips, “if you wanna cum, you’re gonna have to do all the work.”

An edge enters his smile, “I can manage that.”

Duck hits the floor with a whump, Indrid trapping him on his back and climbing atop him, all the while kissing him with abandon.

“May I fuck you?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Condom?”

“Dop kit, bathroom, aw come back.”

“Patience, sweetheart” Indrid blows him a kiss, returns a few moments later doing an inelegant dance to kick his jeans and boxers away, “got one!”

“Good, now get back down here before I-AHfuck!” Indrid is on him and in him so fast it knocks his breath away.

“Before what? You’re not going anywhere, you’re mine, alllllll mine.” He drags kisses across Duck’s cheek, then bites his chapped lip as he looks down at him, “right?”

“You know it, nnng, fuck, that’s it sugar, be a good boy and cum for me. Fuck, darlin, wanted this so bad.” He locks his fingers into silver hair to keep Indrid in kissing distance as the other man whimpers, thrusts shallow and rabbity.

“Want you too, so much, I’ll be worth it, I swear, I’ll be good, I’ll, I’ll make you so happy.”

Duck rests their foreheads together, “You already do.”

There’s a high, gasping moan, almost like a chirp, and Indrid rides out his orgasm in drawn-out rolls of his hips. Then he collapses, laughing, on Duck’s chest.

“I, I’m sorry, I just never thought I’d get this. Someone wanting me. Choosing me.”

“I mean, I went on a T.V show to find love, so I know a little somethin about that fear. But I also know findin you is better than anythin I ever imagined.”

“Likewise.” Indrid nestles closer, one hand reaching out to hold Duck’s where it’s flopped on the rug.

“...You realize this means there’s a fifty-fifty chance your brother will win.”

Indrid shrugs, lifts his head to smile at Duck, “I leave that to Vincent. I already got my prize.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #bachelor au #meet ugly

11 notes · View notes

allthecolorsofourlove · 2 years

Text

Exercise #1 2/16 12:31am

How to Find The Right Metaphor, Blinding Angel Press, published Feb 15 2022

pre article thoughts/warmup:

bluuuug

too hot in my dorm too hot in my dorm too hot in my dorm. fuck. why do these people NEVER OPEN A WINDOWvzbxbv.?!.????

smells like hair dye too. im gonna have to clean all that up aren’t I

is that the sound of an electric kia backing up outside???? that is so weird why do i still recognize that is that actually what that is???? oh that would be a fun thing to put into a poem actually lol SPEAKING OF METAPHOOORRR HAHAHA

anyways back on track. love this publisher and a lot of their prose and advice columns r soooo good so I am looking forward to reading this one lol

thank u professor for picking a good one today I am so tired I cannot have thoughts I just wanna lay down and cuddle. so excited to do this instead of my oceanography shit looool

post article thoughts/cool down:

fuck.

1. Write a few paragraphs answering the following: How does the article describe dealing with metaphor? Does it differ from how you deal with metaphor? Is it similar? Explain.

In the article, the author explains that difficulties with metaphor may come from an inability to express emotion or an inability to source emotions from a positive or inspiring place. Notably, the author explains that having a safe and trusting environment to practice metaphor can greatly improve the process. He lists a multitude of positive aspects, such as a kind face, bright, home-cut hair, and a gentle mouth. Other positive aspects include an inked deer, a hearth of a heart, and patient impatience with a stroke of something stubbornly warm. The author explains that having someone so tender on the receiving end makes metaphor—both those imperfect and perfectly crafted—easy to create. When your muse is as sweet as they are talented it no longer is a challenge to poeticize the world around you: love will come easy.

However, the author warns against self doubt and self inflicted fear-mongering about a wound that has not happened yet. While yes, doubt can be healthy, she explains, in this case it is not necessary. This is something profoundly thought provoking to me as a reader, due to my own personal traumas surrounding being seen as evil or tenderness being such a rarity. I think this is a piece of advice I am still learning to internalize but I do enjoy seeing it written out, as it reminds me that I am just human and so are my favorite authors. On that note, the author also elaborates on allowing metaphor to be messy; they remind us that to be imperfect is something perfect, and regardless of an outcome a metaphor with intent and passion is just as valuable and joyous as any other.

I both struggle and never struggle with metaphor. In cases such as this (romance, hurt), I rarely struggle with words. Creating personalized metaphors—especially with someone I know well, have known well, watched for a while and watched grow anew—is not difficult for me. I paint on other people’s bodies and minds like a canvas and to metaphorically create them for my prose comes like second nature. They can even go through phases: perhaps something horned and crystal, to a mutt in a church, to an angel with a tragically downed soldier, to something else entirely. However, in others (healing, trust) I can struggle deeply. It is hard for me to parse out the write language for something as weighty as feeling joy slowly return to my body, but still having my bad days too. Something about healing as a non-linear concept makes it incredibly difficult to create metaphors about in my opinion—but it could just be me. Trust on the other hand is difficult given, again, my background in tumultuous faith but I am learning to put that away. Both of these things are becoming easier as I improve as a writer. I one day hope to be able to conjure both with ease.

2. In a list format, explain some metaphors (or, if easier, start with symbols) that you could use OR have used in your own writing. How useful could they be to you in the future (in other words, how versatile may they be? how far can they be stretched?) Elaborate (!!) on the possible language, devices, motifs, imagery, or phrases you could use to expand upon this metaphor. Note: this can be informal! I will not be checking your work here—but I would like you to complete the assignment nonetheless. This is for you to improve upon your writing as an author and a poet; to skimp on this opportunity would be to sell yourself short and to burn a lovely way to improve. Put in the work!

hmmmm hmmm ok. okokokokok

one I’ve been thinking a lot about is. a crow. and now just hear me out ok cus crows literally remember the faces of humans that were kind to them. they never forget that. and I think there is something there about being the crow and being unable to let go of someone who touched you once. i think there was something about that in an earlier BAP article and it literally reminded me of this exact thing but I forgot to mention it so I’m throwing it out there now

tying into that?.!!.?? THE DOG!! my old friend the dog. love the dog. he’s got a wrist in his mouth right now but I’m sure soon he will drop it gently and instead lap at the flesh around the wound. he does not mean to be fanged but he is and he wants to make up for that!! he wants to be tender!!! he wants to give kisses now!!!!!! he’s just a little guy hehe :) love the dog. perfect metaphor. kick me and I’ll come back. also I like to cuddle lol it’s great it works out great. but to tie into the crow there’s something there in the kindness they hbotn receive and then never forget. i like that a lot. there’s a juxtaposition though about a crow having much more possibility to become vengeful and a dog not knowing how, staying loyal. not to make a pun but woof

side note to the dog thing try to flesh out those character designs u started cus those were fun >:/ ask friend for input maybe cus he draws guys like that

herb garden! herbs signify growth, cooking and healing, etc etc. Love plant metaphor/symbolism cus u can do so much with it. i love looking through my little fuckin plant meaning blogs and picking out the best ones. it’s my favorite. i have so many herbs to use to cook with to write with i am going to do so much it’s almost herb season it’ll be warm enough for basil!!!!!!!!!!!!! hype!!!!!!

glass. love glass. fragile but sturdy and very pretty and versatile. can be used in a toooooon of ways, broken glass could be negative but I like to use it in a more positive way and I think romanticizing something so often seen as negative or dangerous is very fitting and fun and nice because with context this broken glass IS very positive but lacking the context you or I might have it looks very bad from the outside. do you get what I’m saying??

sleep. there is this painting called flaming june and it is one of my friends moms favorite paintings. it sort of reminds me of us in a way i can’t really explain??? it was not thought to be a masterpiece for a long time which is crazy because WOW look at it it’s so pretty. anyways the woman is laying curled in the sun and draped in fire [FIRE!!! fire is one of my current metaphors. i like it a lot. i miss heat and therefore you] and behind her there is a bough of a plant who’s name I’m forgetting [AYO PLANT SYMBOLISM CHECK] that is super poisonous. basically people think it’s there to mark how fine the line is between sleeping and death and whether this woman is alive or not. i just think sleeping is peace and the closest i get to touching you right now even though I never feel further apart than being asleep and being unable to talk 2 u. if we are going to be vulgar and look at how the French define an orgasm, it literally translates to “a small death.” there is a line between sleep and death. parse that out or something there’s something there but the ability to draw something from language is starting to escape me LMAO

day and night. i was walking to class today and thought about how a lot of my favorite people come in something a bit more the opposite of me, like a sun and a moon or a dog and a cat. and I thought about you and how you’re a dog too [wrist mouth whatever blablabalha] and how to me you’re the sun but to a lot of other people you might be the moon and to a lot of other people i am always the sun. there is something there about opposites and the same and looking for what you want when you really should just look next door but again im exhausted so bear with me, but this is like one of the only times I’ve ever woken up and been in love with the day so I think maybe hopefully it’ll be different this time. i just want it to be different lol im tired im fragile buuuuut cycling back around to the article (ayyeeeeee callbacks) im erasing that from my brain. live in the now!!! fuck whatever shit has happened or will happen!!! what’s happening to u rn man?!.!!! [note: SUPER GOOD THINGS r happening 2 u rn]

also have fun reading these tomorrow and trying to create something to turn in LMAO there’s no substance here way to go idiot. congrats ur writing nothing!!!! way to go english major cannot believe this is what im getting my degree in

closing thoughts:

breaking the fantasy. i miss you. unlearn it and learn it and teach me and we will both heal. this is so nice. i miss you. i am trying to be patient but today i thought about gathering you up in my arms standing in my kitchen again [it’s always my kitchen, sorry] right by our stand mixer and i felt something in me knock loose. i thought about you and me in my childhood bed nose to nose under lights that have lit so many hellos and goodbyes and events of my life that seem like they’re a century ago, and i thought about how this will be one of my new favorite ones because you will be in it. and i thought about the lie to my mom, “oh abc and some others will come over because those are just the friends who are out of school right now! not everyone’s spring breaks line up!” and she’ll still see through it but she’ll take the lie and when only you show up she’ll squint and i’ll sweat and then disappear to the north until may again, where i’ll be home for a weekend because i promised old friends. i thought about pressing you flowers but nothing is in bloom. i thought about laying in that fort with you pressed up against your body and feeling safe. i thought about your hands on my cheeks and neck and in my hair and i miss you, jesus i am impatient, how am i missing touch i have only imagined? how am i missing something that hasn’t even begun?

i cannot wait to begin.

#writing #THIS IS NOOOOOTHING #THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME SO FAST SORRY #creative writing #prose #poetic prose #the herb garden

2 notes · View notes

wingsofkpop · 4 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.V: Rise of the Primes

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, blood and gore, very brief depiction of magical torture, mentions of child abuse and other traumatic experiences, etc.

word count: 8,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

Mark remembers a time when he was much younger, much, much more naive, and completely oblivious to his magical roots.

And while he’s not usually one to look back into his past, nowadays, he can’t help but wonder about those clueless years where his sole care was passing dreaded calculus class and keeping his pot stash hidden from his mom. Sometimes Mark even misses those days—misses his mom.

Mark often wonders what would have happened if his mom wasn’t killed that night. He was only just beginning to learn the basics of witchcraft back then, barely able to keep his emotions in check without blasting a window to pieces. If his mom were still around, would he have done the stupid things he knew better than to do? Would he have sought for such ambitions he knew he could never achieve? Would he have been a better leader, witch, man…?

Yes. Mark knows that. He would be better.

It’s been years since Mark tried to talk to his mother, having given up trying to summon her spirit when he received a personal message from her telling him to stop—to let her go. Even so, he wishes that he can just have one minute. One short minute to see her face, to look into her eyes, and to ask her the same question that has been haunting his mind since he found her body in a pool of her own blood in their home:

‘What the fuck am I supposed to do now?’

As much as he plays the leader-card, and as much as he acts like he’s all-knowing—Mark has no clue what he’s doing. It’s as if he’s been inside a maze these past nine years, unable to find the right path that leads him to glory. Maybe if she was still here, holding his face in her wrinkled hands and speaking his name in her sweet voice, Mark would know what to do. He’d know how to get rid of the huntress and the witch without taking their lives. He’d know how to protect his people, and the rest of the town.

He’d know how to be better—to do better.

Mark shakes his mother’s face from his mind, attempting to focus on the passing scenery of the forest. He adjusts his grip on the steering wheel before reaching forward to turn his air conditioning on full blast, then adjusting his grip again.

It’s been months since he last traveled this way, yet all the sights are the same. The trees are the same trees. The shrubbery, the same shrubbery. Even the rocks haven’t changed save for a new crack or two. That thought actually spills anger through his veins. It’s as if the forest doesn’t realize something is missing—someone is missing.

‘And it’s your fault.’

Mark shakes the intrusive thought away, peering at his companion through the corner of his eye. Jinyoung, like Mark, is merely staring at their surroundings, dark eyes flitting around in every direction. Before everything happened, Mark would have never predicted that one of the Primes would be riding in his passenger’s seat with no care in the world. To be honest, he’s still having a hard time believing him and Jinyoung are on decent terms at all.

“My sisters and I used to play in these woods.” Mark is taken aback by the sudden, albeit casual comment from the vampire, nearly losing his footing on the gas pedal. He looks to the side once again, discovering Jinyoung’s gaze still fixated outside the window.

Mark clears his throat. “I… didn’t know you had siblings.”

“It was a long, long time ago.” Jinyoung shrugs, “Besides, we weren’t close anyway.”

“Why do you say that?”

His question is answered with silence, and when he turns to the passenger, Jinyoung’s expression is blank, almost cold. Mark decides not to press and focuses back on the road.

The cabin has not changed either, Mark notices as the structure comes into sight. A heaviness begins to settle within his chest as he parks in the gravel driveway, one that has his heart beating twice its normal speed and palms beginning to sweat. Trying not to dwell on it too much, Mark cuts out the engine and wipes his hands against his jeans. He’s prepared to exit the vehicle when a sudden realization enters his brain.

Mark turns to Jinyoung and sighs, “I think it might be best for you to stay in the car.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Jinyoung agrees, granting the witch a rigid nod.

“Just don’t steal my truck, okay?”

“This piece of junk?” Jinyoung chortles, “It’s practically falling apart.”

“Don’t piss her off. She still has to get us home.” Mark finds his chest a little lighter as a result of their banter, something he would never admit aloud to the vampire. With a silent farewell, Mark shoves open his door and steps into the bright sunlight, cursing himself for forgetting his sunglasses back at the mausoleum.

The log cabin casts a drowning shadow over Mark as he makes his way toward the figure waiting on the steps that lead up to a redwood porch. Overgrown vines and moss seem to inhabit every available spot of the cabin, winding around wooden supports and spilling down each roof tile. If it hadn’t been for the catch of the sunlight, Mark wouldn’t have been able to notice one of the grimey windows on the second floor had been cracked.

“Long time no see, hyung.” Mark finds his chest tightening at the tired tone of the figure’s voice.

He paints what he hopes to be a smile across his lips and nods. “It’s nice to see you, Gyeom.”

Like the cabin, it has also been months since Mark has seen his younger friend. Yugyeom has always been a giant, towering over him and basically everyone else in town since he hit puberty, but if Mark didn’t know any better, he’d say the wolf had grown even more. His shoulders are broader, dark hair longer, hands calloused and slightly marred with the throes of hard work. He must still be working for the town’s lumber service.

Yet another something that hasn’t changed.

“How… How are things?”

Yugyeom shrugs. “You know how it is out here. Not much excitement.”

“Right.” The silence between them grows heavier and heavier with each passing second. Mark searches his brain for something to expel the awkwardness, but can’t seem to see past the guilt and suffocating self-loathing swirling through his gut.

He thanks the universe when Yugyeom breaks the quiet himself.

“I know you didn’t come just to check in, hyung.” His gut sinks at the younger’s painfully true observation. “What’s going on? And why can I smell a Prime in your passenger seat?”

“I don’t if you’ve heard, but Nayeon was killed last week.”

Yugyeom’s eyes soften. “I saw it on TV. I’m really sorry, hyung,”

“The people who killed her—a witch and supernatural huntress—they’re after the rest of the coven.” Mark ignores Yugyeom’s sympathy, fiddling with a loose thread inside the pocket of his jeans. “Jinyoung has been helping us track them down. He’s gonna help us fight but…”

“But you’re not sure if it will be enough.”

“I know I have no right to show up here and ask for your help, Gyeom.” With a gulp, Mark dares to step closer to the small staircase. Even as far as scaling the first two steps to move closer to his younger companion. Mark shakes his head, “But—I’m desperate. My people are in danger and… and I don’t want anyone else to die.”

Another moment of silence passes, save for the violent beating of Mark’s pulse. Yugyeom stares at Mark, his gaze a cross between pained and hopeful. Just when the latter feels like his lungs are going to explode, Yugyeom releases a helpless sigh and shakes his head.

“I want to help you, hyung. I really do… but I can’t risk anyone in the pack. Especially against a hunter.”

Mark’s heart drops to his stomach.

Yugyeom sends him a sad expression. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” Mark nods, taking a rather clumsy step backward off the porch steps. He manages to save himself from the embarrassment of collapsing into the gravel before offering Yugyeom a weak smile. “I… I would do the same thing. If it were my people.”

“Hyung—” Yugyeom moves to follow Mark, descending a single stair just as the front door swings open. The embers of Mark’s self-loathing grow to flames at the sight of various familiar faces crowded in the doorway, and he wishes nothing more than to cast a spell that makes him completely disappear.

“What’s going on?... Mark?” Chan emerges behind Yugyeom, his features a mixture of confusion and surprise. Another few bodies join the younger man, each set of eyes reopening a mess of old scars in Mark’s soul.

“Mark-oppa!” He barely has time to prepare when a smaller figure dashes down the staircase and collides with his body. His arms catch the figure’s waist before her form falls to the ground, supporting her weight against his own form.

He releases a heavy, yet silent breath. “Dahyun.”

“Where the hell have you been!?” Dahyun pulls from the embrace with a fierce, yet playful spark within her dark eyes. “It’s been months, Mark! Months!”

“I know… It’s just been kind of… weird lately.”

“We’ve missed you… I’ve missed you.”

He winces. “Yeah. Me too.”

“What the hell is he doing here?” Mark recognizes the familiar gritty tone, turning his eyes from Dahyun to a seething Changbin. The animosity in his glare deepens Mark’s wounds.

“Changbin. Don’t.”

“He has no fucking right to be here.” Changbin ignores Chan’s warning, narrowing his eyes to poisonous slits.

“Changbin! You asshole—”

“It’s okay. I was… just leaving.” Mark interrupts Dahyun’s scold, peeling himself away from her arm like a bloodied bandage. He spares a glance and a nod to a pained Yugyeom, “Thanks, Gyeom. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Dahyun reaches for Mark again. “But you just got here. You can’t just—”

“Dubu…” Dahyun turns at Yugyeom’s call, watching the sad shake of his head with glittering eyes. “Let him go…”

Mark’s heart practically cries out at the pure devastation written across the younger woman’s face as she helplessly drops her arms to her sides. He chooses not to linger on her expression, nor Chan’s, nor Yugyeom’s, and with a final nod of his head, makes a break back to his beat-up, rusted truck.

In mere seconds, Mark is driving away from the cabin—driving away from the pain. It’s not until the cabin is completely gone from his rear-view mirror is he able to inhale a full breath without his lungs screaming out.

“No one else is going to die.”

Jinyoung hadn’t said anything at his frantic entrance, nor that he hadn’t paused to throw on his seatbelt. In fact, Mark had almost forgotten the vampire was in the vehicle at all. He turns to find Jinyoung staring out the window, just as before. And if he hadn’t spoken again, Mark would have thought he imagined the voice himself.

Jinyoung turns, sending chills down Mark’s spine at the intensity of his gaze.

“You have my word.”

Mark can’t find it in himself to respond, stuck between unwanted memories and the nostalgia of uncured heartbreak. He instead swallows the bile at the back of his throat, carefully throws on his seatbelt, and turns up the radio.

The music does nothing to drown out the cruel thoughts raging through his mind.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The scenery outside the car window passes by in verdant blurs, settling a slight wave of nausea in your gut. Not desiring to vomit up the Chinese you ate beforehand, you turn your attention to the young driver instead, meeting her starry-eyed gaze in the rearview mirror.

“How much longer?”

“The estate is just up this hill, miss.” The driver assures. “It should be no more than a couple minutes.”

You nod your thanks, peering out the window before remembering your sickness in the first place. With a silent sigh, you abandon the prospect of any sight at all and close your eyes, leaning into the comfort of the headrest. The slight pressure actually somewhat relieves the throb in the back of your brain. The headache that has been present ever since you stormed out on Mark and Jinyoung.

It’s been almost three days since you learned the truth about Moon Dye Bay and all its supernatural offerings. You’d think by now you’d be able to process the fact that your best friend is a witch, and the charming man that saved you from likely death is a vampire—one of the oldest vampires in existence at that. But alas, you’re still having a hard time believing any of this is possible. Even with all the evidence, and proof, and general rules of logic.

Then again, vampires and witches and werewolves and hunters and whatever other creatures aren’t exactly logical… considering they go against everything that is the basis of nature.

Anywho, neither Mark nor Jinyoung has even tried to reach out since that afternoon. In fact, Mark hasn’t returned any of your calls or texts. Though you’re not exactly surprised as both he and Jinyoung made it very clear of your position on the sidelines.

Too bad you’ve never been much of a player who likes to miss the action.

“We’ve arrived, miss.” Your eyelids snap open at the sound of the driver’s lilted voice, jaw almost dropping at the sight that awaits. You shimmy forward, greedily taking in the expanse outside the car window as the driver maneuvers the vehicle up the cobblestone-paved driveway.

If you had to use one word to describe The Project Estate, it would be massive. Completely fucking massive. With a single glance, you can only imagine how many acres of land make up the entire lot. The mansion itself is bigger than any building you’ve set foot inside, resembling that of a miniature castle without the turrets, walls and moat. You’re pretty sure it’s at least four times the size of your apartment building.

“Beautiful place, isn’t it?” The driver marvels, craning her own head over the steering wheel to take in the view. “The Project Brothers are crazy loaded to be able to afford anything like this… What do you think they do?”

Rob banks with their vampire super strength? Steal artifacts and masterpieces with their vampire super speed? Accumulate millions and millions of dollars in wealth after being alive for centuries?

You shrug. “They probably own real estate or something.”

Once the driver stops in front of what you hope to be the front door, you quickly bid her farewell with a generous tip and exit out onto the stone pathway. The purr of the engine grows fainter and fainter as the vehicle turns back the way you came in, leaving you stranded in the shadow of the towering mansion. You can only hope Jinyoung is home.

An old fashioned, golden door knocker rests on the door, fashioned into the shape of a growling lion. You ignore the goosebumps forming across the skin underneath your jacket and pick up the knocker. It’s heavy in your palm, striking the door with such powerful strikes, it must be impossible for anyone inside not to hear.

You visited the cemetery earlier, prepared to convince Mark of your resourceful and beneficial addition to whatever little team he’s gathering, but you only found an empty mausoleum, and an even emptier feeling inside your gut. So you figured you would pay Park Jinyoung a visit at his personal place of residence instead—the same residence him and his brother have resided since 1770.

Your mind races as you wait, thinking over the long speech you prepared to argue your competence and readiness. You don’t know how long it will take, but you do know that you are not leaving until Jinyoung accepts your help, or at the very least, acknowledges your newfound importance in the situation.

The killers are your roommate’s friends after all.

After what seems like minutes, but is probably only a couple seconds, the large, mahogany door swings open. Although, the face that appears in the doorway is not the one you were hoping to see.

A young woman appears behind the door, her babyish features practically exuding the forefronts of her age. She couldn’t be older than twenty, you find, at least, definitely not with a face like that. Her eyes are rather bleary when they meet your own, borderline crimson red. You wonder if she just woke up from a deep sleep after a long night of drinking…

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for Jinyoung?”

“Jinyoung is not home right now.” The woman’s voice is blank, monotone like your boss whenever he’s giving out a lecture. It deepens your concern. You’ve seen your fair share of hangovers between Jihyo and Sana’s party-animal habits, but never one that renders your body so… zombie-like.

“Do you know where he went? Or maybe when he’ll be home?”

The woman doesn’t blink. “No.”

“Okay, um…” You gnaw at your bottom lip, carefully thinking over the next plan of action. Due to the woman’s state, it’s pretty obvious you are not going to be able to get much out of her. Maybe you can try Youngjae’s cell, and eventually badger an answer out of him—

“What’s taking so long? Who’s at the door?” The woman steps aside to reveal a familiar face—one that sends gooseflesh budding across your skin.

Jaebeom’s eyes widen in surprise. “You…? What are you doing here…? ” His expression reminds you of your previous encounter outside the town hall, where he confirmed his and his brother’s vampiric nature. Beneath the surprise in his gaze, you can still make out what seems to be apprehension… almost fear.

“Is Jinyoung here? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s not here.” Jaebeom crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorway. “He went on some field trip with that Tuan kid. I have no clue where they went.”

“Well… do you at least know when he’ll be back?”

He narrows his eyes. “Why do you need to see my brother anyway?”

“I told you. I need to speak with him.”

“Are you sure he even wants to talk to you?”

The agitation spreading through your veins grows at Jaebeom’s obvious indifference. You swallow down the frustration before sparing a glance back toward the silent woman. She’s staring in your direction, but her eyes don’t seem to be looking at you. Instead, they seem to be looking through you.

“Is she… okay?” You ask softly, earning another wave of surprise from the Prime.

Jaebeom leans down to murmur something into the woman’s ear, before she turns on her heel and disappears back inside the house. It might have only been a trick of your mind, but hidden beneath the collar of her shirt may be a wound—a wound that looks strangely like a bite mark.

Your stomach violently turns as you’re reminded of the other night. Jaebeom was going to feed on you, possibly kill you… but he didn’t.

You murmur aloud before you can think, “Why?...”

“What?”

“Why did you stop?” Jaebeom’s face pales at your questions, indicating he knows exactly what you’re talking about. His throat visibly gulps before he uncrosses his arms and steadies himself back on his own feet.

“So you know…”

“Know you almost killed me?... Yeah. Kind of hard to forget something like that.”

Jaebeom shrugs. “You’d be surprised what people can forget under mind compulsion.”

“Mind compulsion?” Your eyebrows furrow as your head tilts in curiosity. “Don't tell me vampires can control minds?”

Jaebeom raises his eyebrows, his surrounding features contorting to a mixture of shock and amazement. His eyes shine, lingering over the planes of your face. As if you activated a switch, a sly smirk pulls across his lips. Perfectly complimenting the dangerous mischief swirling inside his dark brown irises.

“So you know what I am then…” Jaebeom chuckles. You don’t like the way his eyes seem to deviously flicker in the sunlight. “Your witch boyfriend must have you on vervain. That explains why my compulsion didn’t work.”

You ignore his mention of Mark. “Vervain? What’s that?”

“An herb. It’s poisonous to vampires.” He explains so casually. “It dulls our abilities, makes humans immune to compulsion, and burns like a fucking bitch.”

“How do you stand in the sun? Shouldn’t you erupt into flames or something?”

Jaebeom’s smirk seems to widen. “You ask a lot of questions, little dove. That can get you in trouble.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

“And what makes you think that?” In a flash, Jaebeom is standing right in front of you, his hands threateningly cradling the sides of your head. His eyes bleed pure sadism and malice as he speaks, “I could break your sweet, fragile neck right here, and no one would even know…”

Any other person would be scared to death. But you know better.

“If you wanted to kill me, you would have in the alley.” You shake your head, reaching up to grab his wrists and tug his hands from your face. Prowess spills into your chest as his gaze grows surprised once again.

You nod. “Now, since Jinyoung isn’t here and I really don’t want to pay another hundred dollars to haul my ass back to town, you’re gonna help me understand how this whole vampire thing works.”

“I’m going to… what now?”

“You heard me.” You step past Jaebeom and enter the mansion, following the same pathway the previous woman took. You’re barely able to hold back a gasp at the regal interior that greets your entrance. Swallowing your awe, you peer over your shoulder at a rather confused Im Jaebeom and hum delicately, “You don’t happen to drink coffee? Do you?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I finished the boundary spell, Mark-hyung. No one can get step foot into the cemetery without us knowing.” Jinyoung watches Jisung step outside of his ritual circle, crafted from salt and the burning essence of various herbs. From across the way, Mark provides the younger witch a nod of encouragement before turning to face the Choi duo.

“You stocked up on enough energy, Youngjae?”

Youngjae disentangles his hand from Lia’s grasp, his skin ceasing the magical glow Jinyoung has seen many times in siphoners long before anyone in this particular coven was born. The witch hums, “Yes, hyung. I should have plenty to last.”

“Don’t count on it.” Mark shakes his head, tossing another smoldering herb into the center of the salt boundary. “We have no idea what we’re up against. Everyone needs to keep on their toes, and stay together.”

“Have you… fought something like this before?...” It takes a whole moment of silence for Jinyoung to realize Jisung had directed the question at him. Peering at the youngest witch with his usual blank expression, Jinyoung inhales a deep breath, attempting to push away the whiplash of memories that rage through his head.

Jinyoung answers, “I have faced many hunters and witches… but never as a pair.”

“So you’ve fought dark witches?...”

The inquiry surprises Jinyoung, but for what reason—he doesn’t know.

“It is not the witches who are dark—it is the magic.” He finally sighs after a long period of silence. “Dark magic plagues the mind like a parasite, laying its eggs in the user’s morals and logicalities until it builds into an infestation, and completely takes over the witch’s sanity.”

Jisung’s face visibly pales. “Does it… kill the witch?”

“In more ways than one.” Jinyoung catches Mark’s eyes. Inside them is an emotion he knows too well—guilt.

“Don’t worry, Sung.” Lia sidles beside the youngest witch, weaving her fingers with his own to provide a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s gonna be fine… right, Mark?”

Everyone’s eyes immediately trail to the head witch, and though he doubts anyone else could see, Jinyoung notices the aura of fear and apprehension oozing from Mark’s tense body. He can only imagine how Mark feels—terrified for the lives and wellbeing of the people he calls his family… Jinyoung hasn’t felt that pain in centuries, but it’s impossible to forget.

Especially when it comes to those you love.

With eyes of pure, determined fire, Mark nods.

“We do this for Nayeon.” He gathers the witches close, reaching across to take Lia and Jisung’s joint limbs in one hand while the other goes for Youngjae. Something inside Jinyoung’s chest seizes at the heartwarming sight… A memory of both him and Jaebeom suddenly rushes into his thoughts where their hands are tightly clasped between their bodies. Where they stand as brother’s united against the world.

Where did those times go…?

“—For Nayeon!” Jinyoung returns just in time to see the group disband from their minimal embrace. Lia and Jisung head back toward the mausoleum, probably to fetch more supplies for the battle just waiting over the horizon, while the remaining two witches approach Jinyoung. Each with a sullen expression along their features.

Jinyoung clears his throat. “You’re certain they’ll attack tonight?”

“It’s a new moon. Mina’s power will be it’s strongest.” Mark says, providing Jinyoung a grim frown. “Which is why all of us need to be careful. Like I said, we have no clue what to expect.”

The corners of Jinyoung’s lips slightly turn. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were actually concerned for me.”

Mark shakes his head, completely ignoring Jinyoung’s attempt at humor before shifting his focus to Youngjae. “Anything from Minho?”

“No, hyung. But Jisung left him a message to tell him to stay far away from the cemetery tonight.”

Mark releases a heavy breath and drags a hand down his face. “That douchebag is gonna get himself killed, goddamn it…”

“They will be looking for the entire coven, not a lone witch.” Jinyoung assures, feeling the need to expel the head witch’s anxiety. “Minho will be safe. Wherever he is.”

Mark meets Jinyoung’s gaze. “I hope you’re right.”

“We should go over the plan of action again.” Abandoning the intensity of Mark’s stare, Jinyoung turns at Youngjae’s offer, discovering the siphoner to already be looking in his direction.

There’s a subtle waver in Youngjae’s tone as he asks, “You remember what you have to do?”

Jinyoung nods cooly. “Once you immobilize the witch, I go for the huntress.”

“And you’re sure you can take her by yourself?”

“I’ve encountered and destroyed dozens of supernatural hunters over the years.” Jinyoung replies to Youngjae, earning a silent, but visible eye roll from the other witch. He ignores Mark’s annoyance, nodding again at the younger siphoner. “I’m strong enough.”

Jinyoung only hopes that will be true.

“Good.” Youngjae turns to Mark. “Once Mina steps foot onto our grounds, the spell will immediately take effect… She’ll be in pain. Immense, torturous pain.”

Jinyoung notices how Mark’s shoulders shiver at the description.

He gulps. “This will work. It has to.”

“It will.” Jinyoung offers again, placing a gentle hand against Mark’s elbow. The latter grows surprised for a moment, before a weak upturn of his lips signifies his gratitude.

Jinyoung immediately pulls away from Mark as a loud shriek erupts through the graveyard. The first to wake out of the alarmed stupor is Mark, who immediately shifts on his heel and dashes for the entrance of the cemetery, where the noise had previously erupted. Youngjae runs after him, followed closely behind by Jinyoung.

“Mark-hyung! Wait, don’t—”

“There’s someone here! Get Lia and Jisung out here!” Jinyoung provides Youngjae a nod, assuring the witch to follow his leader’s demand. The siphoner makes a break for the mausoleum while Jinyoung scales the rest of the distance toward the head witch, who’s standing mere feet from the iron gate that acts as the only access point into Eclipse Cemetery—where a shadowy figure is helplessly squirming on the graveled-earth.

Jinyoung grabs Mark’s wrist before he can lunge at the figure, frantically shaking his head. “Are you trying to get yourself killed!?”

“That son of a bitch murdered my friend—” Mark hisses, wrenching his limb away from Jinyoung’s grasp and pushing his body away with a hefty shove. “You don’t want to test the reliability of my self-control right now… so I suggest you back off and do your own damn job!”

“Wait for the others, at least!” Jinyoung urges, “Be smart about this, Mark! Trust me—!”

“Don’t tell me what to fucking—”

“Mark-hyung!” Surprise mirrors itself along both Jinyoung and Mark’s features. The head witch quickly leaves Jinyoung to kneel beside the figure hidden beneath the darkness of the moonless night. Jinyoung hurries to Mark’s side, his eyes widening to saucers at the familiar features he can barely make out in the obscurity.

Mark gapes. “Minho…?”

“Wh-What is—ha!.. Hap-happening?...” Minho manages to spill through gritted teeth with much struggle. Jinyoung recognizes the writhing and twitching of his limbs, as well as the wild nature of his gaze—Youngjae wasn’t lying about the pain.

“Shit, Minho—” Mark hurriedly mutters a counter-incantation beneath his breath, pulling the younger witch to lean against his chest. Even with the spell lifted, Minho continues to spasm and moan at the phantom waves that send pain through his form.

Mark shakes his head. “What in the actual hell are you doing here!?”

“What… What the fuck are you talking about?” Minho gasps, clutching onto the sleeves of Mark’s shirt as another wave passes through his veins. “You… called me, asshole!”

“What the fu—? I never called you! Jisung told you to stay home!”

“I-I… talked to you earlier.” Minho inhales something close to a wheeze before lightly poking Mark’s chest. “You told me to… to come to the ‘maus’ at mid-midnight…”

Jinyoung feels his blood run cold, but his tone is even colder:

“They knew it was a trap…”

Mark’s eyes are wild with desperation and fright as he meets Jinyoung’s gaze. “The others—” A loud, high-pitched wail cuts off Mark’s speech. Neither him nor Jinyoung waste any time and make a mad dash for the mausoleum, Jinyoung’s heart racing in his throat. The first thing he notices is the door of the structure—wide open and practically torn off its hinges.

“Youngjae! Lia! Jisung!” Mark screams, sprinting inside the mausoleum with no hesitation. Jinyoung pauses in the doorway, watching as the head witch frantically surveys the place, only to find it completely empty save for himself. Tears are glistening in his eyes as he shakes his head, “Where the fuck are they!? Oh my fucking god—”

“If the boundary spell caught Minho, then they could have gotten in anywhere!” Jinyoung steps aside just in time for Mark to race outside again. “We need to be careful! Especially if they have—!”

“Mark-hyung!” Youngjae’s call carries through the nightly breeze, brewing even more uncontrolled fear in Jinyoung’s chest.

“Youngjae!” Jinyoung can barely keep up with Mark’s frantic pace as he tears deeper into the graveyard, skipping over headstones and rounding tall statues with the skill of a professional athlete. He somehow manages to keep up. Just in arms reach of the head witch.

“Youngjae!? Youngjae!?” Mark sobs, pausing to peer through the continuous hills of graves and monuments for the forgotten. “Jisung!? Lia!? Where are you!?”

Through the very corner of his eye, Jinyoung notices a speck of movement emerge from behind a nearby tree. Time seems to slow as he focuses closer on that tree, immediately noticing a human-like shadow holding something between stoic hands—holding a loaded crossbow pointed directly at Mark.

Using every bout of vampiric strength in his possession, Jinyoung sprints toward the head witch just as the bolt leaves the barrel of the crossbow.

“Mark! Get down!”

“Jinyoung—!?”

Jinyoung can hear nothing but screams and the ringing of his own ears as he shields Mark’s body with his own. Somewhere deep inside, as the crossbow bolt pierces his flesh, he can hear something that fills his soul with immense warmth…

It’s your voice—telling him to go to hell, as he immediately succumbs to a violent wave of darkness.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“So you’re… a werewolf and a vampire?” Jaebeom watches your eyebrows raise to the heavens over the rim of his glass, swallowing the sweeter-than-sweet liquid before licking the remnants from his lips. He can’t remember the last time he sat down and had a cup of coffee, much less drank something that wasn’t straight from the vein.

To be honest, he’d much rather be feeding from the blonde woman waiting in his bedroom. But something about being with you is too addicting to pass up… and that scares him.

You shake your head. “Isn’t that like… ironic? Considering vampires and werewolves are sworn enemies?”

An amused chuckle spills from his lips as you fumble with your own teacup, barely managing to save its matching saucer before it clatters to the floor. Your annoyed glare pulls more laughter out of him, and it takes a good portion of his self-control not to smile.

After taking another sip of his coffee, Jaebeom shrugs. “I was born a werewolf, and it carried over when Jinyoung and I became vampires.”

“How did that happen anyway?” You lean back in your seat, crossing your legs at the ankle with a tilt of your head. “I mean, did you and Jinyoung choose to become…what you are?”

“Yes and no,” He hums.

“So you chose to become monsters?”

“You consider my brother and I monsters…?”

Jaebeom doesn’t like the serious expression that pulls across your features. “I know you’ve killed a lot of people… and have done some pretty fucked up things.”

“A millennium is a long time to be alive, little dove.” Your obvious distaste at the nickname fills his chest with comedic pleasure. He smirks, “You get a little bored after a while.”

“Normal people read books when they’re bored, or find a new hobby.”

“Killing isn’t a hobby then…?”

Your response is a look of pure disgust.

Jaebeom howls in laughter before inhaling the remainder of his coffee in one gulp. He heaves a sigh, peering out the large, stained-glass window. Partly to recollect his thoughts. Partly to allow the obvious tension to dissipate between his and your forms.

Now inside his own head, Jaebeom wonders whether or not he should have said such a barbaric statement in the first place. If it were anyone else, Jaebeom would care less about protecting his image—but it’s you. And something inside him warns him to be careful around you… Very, very careful.

“Jinyoung and I were children when we found each other.” Jaebeom sighs, feeling the weight of your surprised gaze on the side of his face. “After my own caregivers abandoned me, he convinced his parents to take me in… It wasn’t until I lived inside their home did I realize how cruel they were.”

“Cruel…?”

“Jinyoung was a bastard child.” He explains, “His mother had an affair with a village merchant. After his father found out, he murdered his wife’s lover and made Jinyoung’s life a living hell.”

Jaebeom rises from his armchair and grabs his empty cup before heading for the liquor tray in front of the same window he was previously staring out. While pouring himself a drink, Jaebeom makes sure to raise his voice so you can still hear:

“For years, I watched that asshole beat the shit out of Jinyoung while his mother and sisters sat back and didn’t do a goddamn thing.” He downs the brandy in one sweet gulp before selecting a stronger bottle of scotch. Not bothering with his cup, Jaebeom unscrews the cap and takes a long, drawn-out swig from the container. Fire erupts through his belly, sending the beginning of a pleasurable buzz through his veins.

“One day I got fed up with it all, and when the fucker tried to lash Jinyoung for refusing to shoot a fawn, I took that belt right out of his hands, wrapped it around his neck, and squeezed and squeezed until the light left his eyes…”

Through the corner of his eye, Jaebeom notices how your body grows tense at his confession.

He whirls around to meet your gaze, pushing away the pestering emotions without so much as a blink before continuing, “We were banished by his family and the other villagers, but we didn’t care—we had each other, and we needed no one else.

“We encountered a witch one day, as we were walking through the forest.” Jaebeom says after another sip, “She told us she could give us a gift like no other: Eternal life. We only had to take part in a ritual, and death would never come for us.”

You shake your head. “Why? Why would you want to live forever?”

“If you were given the chance to be invincible against everything, even time, wouldn’t a small part of you be somewhat interested?”

He allows you a moment to ponder his question. After maybe a minute or so, you release a silent huff and gesture for him to continue.

“The witch tricked us though, and in trade for immortality, we were forced to sacrifice our humanity.”

Your eyes widen. “So you didn’t… choose to become vampires?”

“No.” Jaebeom sets down his bottle with one hand while carding his fingers through his hair with the other. “Anyway, Jinyoung and I spent decades learning how to manage our newfound abilities, and even longer on how to handle the lifestyle.”

“If you and Jinyoung were the first—the Prime Two—did you create more vampires?”

He chuckles with a sigh, “Yes. Though it was by accident how we found out.

“Fledgling vampires branched off from our bloodline are different. They’re not as fast, nor as strong, nor as powerful as us.” Jaebeom explains, “Jinyoung and I can compel humans and other vampires, but vampires can only compel humans.”

“Are fledglings immortal too?”

“To some extent.” Crossing back across the room, Jaebeom lowers into the armchair beside your own. Now close enough to see the curious spark of wonder in your irises. “It is possible for a fledgling to live forever, but unlike Jinyoung and I, fledglings can be killed with a wooden stake through the heart.”

“Nice to know that much is true.” Jaebeom relishes the borderline amused chuckle that leaves your lips, playing the odd elation off as the effects of the alcohol. “Is it also true that a bite from a vampire turns you into a vampire?”

He snorts, “Let me guess… Got that from Twilight?

“Just answer the question.”

“The only way to become a vampire is if you die with vampire blood in your system.” He hums, “After you die, you’ll wake up in transition, and will need to drink human blood to complete the transformation.”

“And if you choose not to complete it?”

“Then you die for real.”

You shift at his answer, finding interest in the chipped edge of your cup. Jaebeom wonders whether he should change the topic of interest, but before he can think up some possible options, you steer the conversation yourself:

“You never told me why.”

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “What?”

“Why you left me in that alleyway.”

For the first time, Jaebeom feels vulnerable underneath the scrutiny of your eyes. He fidgets uncomfortably, and like you, searches the room for another object to hold his attention. However, whether it’s because of the whiskey, or something else, his gaze returns to and remains rooted on your own.

What is it about you? The thought spirals through his thoughts like a 2-seater plane with broken wings. Maybe he should have listened to Jinyoung, and stayed away from you in the first place. Because whatever game you’re playing, whatever spell you have him under… it’s messing with his head.

And he doesn’t like to be fucked around with.

Finally, after what seems like hours, Jaebeom shakes his head. “I don’t kn—”

A sudden crash emerges from the foyer, effectively interrupting his explanation. Jaebeom leaps from his seat and speeds in front of where you’re sitting, shielding your form from the entryway where the noise sounded. His protective stance vanishes, however, at the figure that appears in the doorway.

Jaebeom tsks. “Oh. Look who finally decided to show up.”

“Jinyoung…?” Jaebeom steps aside to allow you to step forward, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He moves to fetch himself another drink when your exclaim stops him, “Holy shit! What the hell happened to you!?”

Upon taking care to really look at his brother, Jaebeom understands the reason for your concern. Jinyoung’s usual clean-cut and formal appearance is nonexistent. From head to toe, he’s covered in dirt, and his dark hair is far past disheveled. His clothes are badly torn and wrinkled, and practically soaked in fresh blood. Jaebeom quickly realizes the blood does belong to Jinyoung, noticing the large, thick bolt protruding from his chest.

Jinyoung winces, “It’s a long story… but if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit down first.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The gleam of the awakening sun rising over the horizon sears Yugyeom’s eyes, but he keeps his gaze fixated on the entryway of the cemetery. No matter how much the newfound sunlight burns his eyes, he continues to watch the shadows of the night disperse in fear of the approaching morning. He knows pain all too well.

“Gyeom?”

Yugyeom greets Chan silently, with a curt nod. His stare remains frozen on the gate.

Chan sidles up beside him until they are shoulder to shoulder. His own gaze glances at Yugyeom’s point of interest for a moment before he turns to look at his companion in the early morning glow. Through his peripheral vision, Yugyeom can spot Chan’s grim expression.

“How’s the coven?” Yugyeom asks after a long bout of silence.

Chan shrugs, “Minho, Jisung and Lia were all sleeping when I left. And Youngjae, he’s…” When his voice trails off, Yugyeom doesn’t urge Chan to finish his sentence. He knows exactly how Youngjae is right now.

Terrified.

“What should we do with the body?”

Yugyeom barely blinks. “Probably best to burn it. Can’t leave anything up to chance.”

Chan hums in agreement, seemingly ready to return to the mausoleum, but to Yugyeom’s surprise, Chan remains in place. Another long, tense round of silence carries between them, filling Yugyeom’s head with even more heart wrenching memories. After another mind-spiralling hurricane or two, Chan breaks the silence again:

“We made the right decision. If we got here any later, that huntress would have killed everyone.”

Yugyeom shakes his head, “The huntress was working with a witch, and we only found the one… We should have gotten here sooner.”

“Youngjae thinks the huntress was working alone tonight.” Chan says, lifting his palm to shield his eyes from the blinding sunrise. “There were no traces of unfamiliar magic… nor did we catch anyone else’s scent in the cemetery.”

“Then where is the witch?” Yugyeom moves his attention away from the graveyard entrance, and with aching eyes, turns to meet his Alpha’s downcast gaze, “And more importantly, where the hell is Mark-hyung…?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

You hold back a wince as Jaebeom literally tears the bolt from Jinyoung’s chest, earning a pained grunt from said victim. Dark blood splatters from the now open wound, painting across Jaebeom’s skin and adding even more stains to Jinyoung’s unsalvageable shirt. Disgust fills your gut as Jaebeom offers Jinyoung what seems to be a glass of blood—probably from that blonde woman you encountered at the door.

Jinyoung shakes his head and pushes the drink away. “No. I’m alright.”

“You would have healed by now if you were.” Jaebeom tries again, “Just take a sip.”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” Your eyes widen in both surprise and revulsion, watching Jaebeom knock back the glass and down the blood in one large gulp. Fighting back a wave of nausea, you carefully approach the wounded vampire, holding forth a clean towel.

Jinyoung takes the garment and sends a grateful smile in return. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

You nod, “Sure.”

Jinyoung presses the bunched fabric to his gaping wound, hissing through gritted teeth at the sudden pressure. You wonder whether or not you should grab the emergency Tylenol from your bag… Does pain medication even work on vampires? Aren’t they technically dead?

“We were ambushed at the cemetery.” Jinyoung explains, pulling you from your foolish thoughts. “After the huntress shot me, I must have hit my head and knocked myself out.”

“Sounds like a pretty unfortunate story.”

Jinyoung chuckles at your joke before continuing, “When I came to, the wolf pack had killed her and Mark was gone.”

Panic immediately spreads through your veins like flames to dry wood. “Mark? What do you mean he’s gone?”

“I’m not sure. We searched the entire graveyard, but there was no sign of him.”

You open your mouth to inquire further, but Jaebeom’s loud exhale cuts you off. Both you and Jinyoung turn to peer at the hybrid, finding him staring out the large window while drumming his fingertips against the red- and blue-stained glass. After a quiet moment filled with the rhythm of his fingers and Jinyoung’s marred breathing, Jaebeom peers over his shoulder—his eyes glaring daggers straight at his brother.

Jinyoung shakes his head. “Hyung—”

“I told you not to get involved with Tuan.” The dark, bitter tone that leaves Jaebeom’s lips sends a harsh shiver down your spine, more so since the comment included mention of your best friend.

“And I told you I’m taking care of it.”

“Can you not just do what you’re fucking told just once? Just one goddamn time—?”

To both your and Jaebeom’s surprise, Jinyoung suddenly leans forward in his seat and retches violently. You rush forward, splaying your hands across his back while asking about his condition. Your response is another retching noise, and in just the nick of time, you manage to step out of the way before Jinyoung vomits red across the carpet.

“Fucking god, Jinyoung! What the hell is wrong with him!?” You call out to Jaebeom, squeezing Jinyoung’s shoulders as he heaves again. After another gag or two, you help Jinyoung to lean back into the armchair, wiping the bloody remnants from his lip with a towelette. Your knuckles brush the arch of his cheekbone—his skin is hot to the touch.

“He’s burning up! What do we do!?”

“It’s… werewolf venom.” Jinyoung gasps, weakly pulling your wrist away from his face.

You shake your head, “W-Werewolf venom?”

“A werewolf’s bite is deadly to vampires.” Jaebeom explains, barely batting an eyelash as Jinyoung lurches forward with another gag.

“But he wasn’t bitten? How the hell—?”

“The crossbow bolts must have been poisoned.” Your anxiety skyrockets, worriedly staring as Jinyoung begins to choke on his own blood. Jaebeom glances outside the window again, murmuring, “He won’t die… The effects will pass in a day or so.”

“But can’t you heal him!?” You jump to your feet, narrowly avoiding a puddle of dark blood before dashing over to Jaebeom. Your fingers desperately latch onto the lapels of his leather jackets, tugging him down to meet your eyes. “You’re a hybrid, so your blood should technically flush the venom out of his system? Right?”

Jaebeom’s lips twitch. “You’re smart, little dove. I’ll give you that.”

“So you’ll heal him?”

You wait in utter agony as the hybrid considers your request, staring blankly at the features of your face. You can only imagine how much you resemble a crazed, mad woman, but you can care less. Right now, your sole focus is on Jinyoung and ending whatever horrible fate awaits. Jaebeom wouldn’t let his best friend—the man he calls his brother—suffer in absolute anguish…

Not when he killed Jinyoung’s own father to protect him.

After a miserable moment of silence, Jaebeom releases a heavy exhale through his nose before meeting your gaze. The bubble of hope expands inside your chest when the hybrid offers a weak smile, lifting a hand to brush a stray hair from your forehead. You shiver as that same hand lightly grasps your chin, guiding your face closer until you can taste the alcohol on Jaebeom’s breath.

All in a matter of seconds, that bubble of hope pops at Jaebeom’s curt answer:

“No.”

You watch in horror as Jaebeom releases your chin, turns on his heel, and leaves you by your lonesome with a wounded Jinyoung, and even more wounded soul.

59 notes · View notes

corvidshipping · 3 years

Text

modern au red/milo dump while i try to get myself together to answer asks nd work on ATJ:

(tw for alcohol mentions near the end, also this is an EXTREMELY long post, its so long that even after i split it into categorized sections each section could be its own post)

CLOTHING

milo absolutely has no sense of fashion. i feel like this is basically canon - for the styles at the time, he dresses fairly basic, mostly focused on looking put together for his job (definitely dresses aimed more towards how he would like to be treated by his peers, despite his actual position - then again our best example outside of the expedition is when he's about to deliver what he considers the most important presentation of his life, so who knows, maybe he usually dresses like a slob). aside from that his main concern seems like practicality and comfort. his wardrobe is dominated by earth tones - beiges and greens set with white and greys. all of that taken into account, i can see him dressing like this in a more modern era:

basically- a lot of cardigans, usually collared shirts or comfortable turtlenecks (since he does still occupy a research position at the smithsonian, even if only in title), big ol' coats, khakis and chinos and slightly stiff dress pants complete with ironed creases. i can see him wearing similar clothes outside work, just more comfortable - jeans and knitted shirts, henleys, more turtlenecks, and comfy cardigans over short sleeved shirts. i dont really see him wearing a lot of prints, i think he'd veer more towards solid clothes in lighter colors, but maybe he has a few. hes definitely the kind of guy to think of wearing the single graphic tee he owns as "bold and wild".

im very married to the idea of him wearing converse though. i cant explain it. milo in converse keeps me going in this world

hes kind of broke so i think maybe he got the converse secondhand maybe? or a gift of some kind. aside from the converse i can see him wearing a lot of oxfords and maybe wingtips

i want to see him in a hawaiian shirt so bad. i am losing it at this thought. he buttons it all the way up to his neck like someones awkward dad. milo wears a hawaiian shirt to "let loose". he wears it with like, khakis. or knee length jorts AHHHHDJHDSGJHDSJGh

a tie??? does he wear his hawaiian shirt with a tie???? does he think it makes it look cooler?????????? i am sobbing

red is the COMPLETE opposite. in the canon 1914 setting, red is already very rebellious for an AFAB person of their era- theyre openly a suffragette, they frequently refuse to wear skirts even in public and dress in mens clothes even before they were openly nonbinary, despite not being accepted into the male-dominated research fields and colleges they continue to educate themself with or without help, they purposely aim for an "unfeminine" silhouette when they dress, refuse to wear corsets, etc. (spoiler alert- there's a clear reason they get on so well with audrey in ATJ)

theyre also easily mistaken by people that didnt know them prior to their transition for being just a very small/young cis man- even though they canonically have a very soft "traditionally feminine" face

so basically, in any era theyre set into, red is always gonna aim to be ahead of the curve- both in their personal beliefs and practices and in their fashion. theyre also very androgynous in their clothes, although they tend to aim a bit more masculine (thats partially due to the era though, and having been forced into skirts exclusively for their entire life- i think in a modern setting where its more acceptable for AFABs to dress and act in a less hyperfeminine way, theyd be more okay with a fluidity in their gender presentation).

all that taken into account, i can see them dressing like this:

lots of baggy clothes, especially baggy jackets and shirts. they like loose fitting high waisted pants like JNCO jeans, cargo pants, etc but they arent averse to pencil legs. they rarely ever wear skinny jeans or drainpipes though. messy hair is a lifestyle for them- their haircut is definitely home-done

you know how in BICSTLY they used to have really long hair before they cut it? in a modern au i can see them impulsively doing the cut at like 3am and waking milo up at his door cause they screwed it up and he ends up having to help fix it (even though hes literally no better at cutting hair than them. worse even)

definitely have an undercut bob- bob on top, shaven on the bottom layer. they might end up growing their hair into a mullet at some point if they get bored. probably dyes their hair all the time out of boredom and then regrets it later and has to use dye remover.

lots of ripped tights and fishnets, leggings with big loose crop tops, big hoodies, safety pin jewelry and homemade jewelry. maybe some sticknpokes.

all that said, they still know how to dress in a professional situation. since its a modern au theres really nothing holding them back from the education and career they canonically want but cant get in the 1910s, so i imagine they would work at the smithsonian as well, maybe their father helped them get the job? potentially in that case they might be his assistant- after all, he trusts their opinion on artifacts more than anyone else's.

at work you can still very much see the punk/skater/grunge/goth style but its more understated- turtlenecks, high waisted and looser dress pants, lots of black, slightly unbuttoned collared shirts with a loose overcoat and no tie

since i elaborated on milos shoe taste i may as well elaborate on red's: they definitely wear converse as well, probably newer than milo's since their father is fairly wealthy and they can afford it. they also have a doc martens collection. they have a pair of demonias but they never wear them and milo is really the only person to even know they own them, let alone see them in them. they really dont like to wear heels much, but they own a few just to play around with. they have a bad habit of wearing any laced shoes untied, but they never trip over the laces. they also use lace code- their most-worn Docs have purple laces on the right foot and yellow on the left. some of their Docs have (reclaimed) pink laces.

has an extensive pin collection including feminism pins, anti-racism pins, punk-related pins, skater-related pins, and pop culture pins (80s music, modern music, old movies, etc)

MUSIC TASTE

milo's into a lot of older music- stuff from the 50s is his favorite. really into jazz and ballroom style stuff. his favorite band is queen, i think- he likes the old-fashioned sound, the jazz-chamber-ballroom influences, the diversity of their lyrics, and the complexity between the guitar riffs, the basslines, and freddie's vocal runs as well as the vocal harmonies.

sometimes he hums good old fashioned lover boy to red and they two-step in the living room in their pajamas :pleading:

also very into rush. yes, he is a rush guy :pensive:.

also listens to a surprising amount of lo-fi? he really likes stuff that remixes older music with hip hop and lofi elements, like earl grey. nearly exclusively into instrumental stuff but also very into louie zong. he listens to it while he works a lot.

knows a lotttt of foreign artists, especially niche ones. fuckin LOVES casiopea

red's spotify is a goddamn mess. everything from 2000s emo, to classic 70s punk, to post-punk and new wave, to 90s pop, to rap. they cant be easily classified at all

their favorite bands are oingo boingo, prince, queen (they listen to a lot of their harder-rock music, but milo knows theyre into the ballads too. theyll never tell anyone else though), doja cat, lil nas, fall out boy, and billie eilish.

red recites the intro monologue to lets go crazy very seriously to make milo laugh, sometimes. they get very into it with their facial expressions. sometimes it devolves into a full air guitar/keyboard/drum and wild dancing session. milo does not know how to participate in this but he loves watching them have fun with it. sometimes they pull him off the couch to make him dance with them, though

they are a huge sucker for dark pop, vaporwave, retrowave, EDM, hip hop, emo, punk... etc etc. anything that combines any two or more of those genres in an original or interesting way gets their attention right away

there's a lot of sharing between the two of them- even though their music tastes are so different, they like a lot of the others taste, and theyre always up to listen to whatever their partner is playing.

red is a huge softie, and milo has found them more than once listening to or humming something he was playing for them the other day because it reminded them of him

speaking of which- in the 1914 canon, red can play piano. i think that carries over to a modern au, where they could play piano and by extension keyboard. i like to think they experiment with a lot of instruments but i doubt they ever really mastered any others. maybe theyre okay at drums or bass?

they learned to play and sing teo torriatte for milo, as a surprise. when they first performed it for them, they had everything set up for when he got home from work- the lights were dimmed, they had candles lit around the keyboard, they draped stuff in cloth to make it look pretty, they scattered flower petals around. when milo walked in and saw it all, he almost proposed then and there- the only thing that stopped him was that he would kick himself for the rest of his life if he did that without a ring.

HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES

milo is still an avid chess player in this, but i like to think hes in some kind of groupchat or text or discord server for it. he doesnt necessarily consider any of the others in the chat close friends, but he does know them all by name

he tries to get red into chess but they never really get it

he tells them all about the stuff that goes down in the games and they just. do not understand. but they love listening to him get excited about it anyway

"red you're not gonna BELIEVE this, eddie played an italian game on star today! i thought for sure she would see through it since everyone knows it but she slipped and he beat her in like, 13 moves! i wouldnt have believed it if i hadnt been there!"

"yes sweetie please tell me more" (barely disguised pained expression)

red is a skater and a regular at the skate park by the smithsonian

most regulars there know them by name, they can spot a newbie a mile away

they have a sticker of a broken tv with a skull inside of it on the underside of their board, its become recognized as a symbol of them unofficially

since theyre so regular and have been going there a lot longer than most of the other skaters that frequent the place, a lot of what they say is kind of just accepted as the rules

they have a bad habit of lecturing new kids who show up without knee/elbow pads or helmets at the very least. all the other skaters enforce it too. kids dont end up showing up without protective gear very often after their first visit

they brought a first aid kid and left it there and everyone has kept it stocked pretty well without them having to have much input. its kind of just a communal first aid kit

they once drew the broken tv symbol on the inside of a half-pipe and everyone started calling it red's ramp after that

they also started calling the bowl at the center of the park the Soup Bowl and now thats just accepted as the name. some of the newer kids genuinely thought that it was called that by the park and were shocked when they found out it was just a random nickname red gave it one day

theyve brought milo a few times but hes extremely awkward on his feet and could never really get his balance on a skateboard, and quite frankly red is afraid of what might happen if he tried even a low ramp, so he usually just sits at the rim of the bowl while red skates around

everyone knew he was their boyfriend before they even met him. a few of the regulars called him by name right away. one of them was certain red had brought him before.

but no

they just talk so fuckin much about him that its like they already know him

aside from skateboarding, red is pretty good on rollerskates/blades

they tried to take milo to a roller rink once but it was a disaster and they ended up going home, changing into pajamas, ordering chinese food, and marathoning movies till they fell asleep on the couch together. so not a total loss

theyre both very into movies. red is deep into horror and milo likes indie/art movies and just Cannot handle horror at all, but they both agree on old movies, from the 80s and 90s to like the 30s.

red has shown milo some of the classic horror movies and the niche old ones (from like the 40s) since theyre not difficult to stomach

every so often when red brings up wanting to see a horror movie milo is like "aw babe we can watch that tonight i promise it wont be bad" and he genuinely thinks he can handle it this time

he cant

he never can

it is always a lie

red ends up holding him every time and talking him to sleep, but it thankfully never causes like a major panic attack or anything like that

they love going to museums together, of all kinds. they love art museums. they also go to aquariums and aviaries

sometimes they like to go to other history museums and criticise the veracity or accuracy of exhibits/translations, all in good fun of course. theyre never actually being mean about it

SIDENOTES/UNCATEGORIZED

they both used to work at starbucks, when they were younger and before they worked at the smithsonian. they worked at separate stores 2 blocks from each other.

milo cant stand soda or carbonated drinks, red can and will chug a java monster in order to survive a long workday if they must. milo is constantly concerned for their health and wellbeing

they r both lightweights when it comes to drinking. they can split a six pack and both be falling-over drunk by the end of the night.

given the changes in beauty standards people DEFINITELY think milo is more attractive than they would in 1914. cmon. hes a lil twinky nerd. you think people wont eat that up?

he never really catches onto the flirting much though

did u think i would forget ki/da and the others? youd be wrong.

i simultaneously like the idea of something similar to the movie happening, but also just like... ki/da just being a regular person living on the surface. in either case they r all friends still

in the case of ki/da just being a regular person on the surface- i like the idea of atl/antis just being A Place in this au, maybe its a bit of a closed off country though? like, not many foreigners live there and to get there you basically need to be there as a diplomat or a scholar

maybe ki/da visits DC as a diplomat? she is a princess, after all

red meets audrey online cause they both yell at the same misogynistic asshole on twitter

they exchange discord names in the replies of the tweet and tell the guy not to interrupt them while theyre talking in his replies

i like to think red and milo are selected to go on an academic visit to atl/antis (to learn about the culture, with permission of the king), and audrey ends up as the mechanic on the ship during the visit and theyre like (spiderman pointing meme) at each other

red and audrey have so many inside jokes that they basically speak a different language. milo gets some of the terms from context and pop culture (they use "so very" in real life- as in "wow, that shirt is so very.") but he is hopeless to learn all of it

one of their inside jokes is any variation of "milo hot girl summer" and they REFUSE to explain it to him no matter how much he begs

milo wears that iconique tank top on the ship and they say it literally any time he bends over, picks anything up, reaches for anything, moves, BREATHES. he is bewildered and at this point concerned

(in truth, the joke came from red taking a really blurry picture of him in a short sleeve shirt where he looked pretty cute and captioned it "milo's having a hot girl summer rn" and they just could not stop repeating it once audrey met him IRL)

they have a minecraft world. i do like to believe that every so often vinny finds a way in- theyre never sure how- and griefs the shit out of them by blowing up EVERY. monument.

this post is getting long bc im enraptured by the idea of an atl/antis modern au so im cutting it off here but expect WAY MORE later

#paper_heart.txt #s: i didn't say it's the smart thing. but it is the right thing #alcohol ment tw

2 notes · View notes

pbandjesse · 3 years

Text

Why do I always feel bad at night? It is so annoying. But last night I did fall asleep easier, so that was a nice thing at least.

And today was good! I got up around 9 and started getting ready to go to my appointment. But of course everything was going wrong! And so I was sure I was going to be late. I ripped off a button and had to fix that, I forgot to put lotion on somehow and had to take my shorts off and start over. I got a nose bleed?? Then when I finally got in the car I realized I forgot my charger and headphones and had to run back up and get those. Thankfully I found a good (free) parking spot and was just on time.

The stylist I have is so sweet. And we had some great talks. I was there from 10 am until about 230. It was a long day! I liked learning about the whole process, and in general I was pretty comfortable. She started with washing my hair a few times. Almost all my dye came out but she said I should be good to do it again later this week without much issue. The putting in of the curlers took about 2 hours. It was fun to watch her work. I decided not to get my bangs curled, which I think will make it look more natural as things start to grow out, and in the mean time Ill just scrunch them with product to give them matching texture.

I realized that the smell I always associated with hair salons is just perm solution. So that was a funny realization. It sort of smells like a lighter version of Nair. I wonder if they have similar properties, since they both change the structure of the hair.

We talked a lot though, about so many things, and once she put the solution on I would just have to wait a half hour. I brought a book, so I started reading while she went to get lunch. Im starting the John Waters memoir about his role models, and so far its great.

After it sat she put a neutralizer in, to stop the original chemical from doing its thing, which sets the curl. That sat on my head for a little, and then she had to rinse it for 10 minutes! Thats so many! She said as she was rinsing it that she can tell where the perm liquid is because it makes your hair feel almost like. Gel. Gross.

The only problem I really had was my mask got damp. From the ear strings acting like a straw. I brought a second mask but then it happened again! So I had to wear a disposable. Annoying but thats alright.

She showed me how to style the new curls and take care of them. I did not buy the products she showed me because they were very expensive, but the entire service was cheaper then she quoted me so that was cool. I will pick up something else tomorrow.

I was a little overwhelmed though! Like it was so exciting but also I was very tired. My hair looked so big! And I was nervous about it!! But it looks great. It wont be as large, because the perm will settle out and look a little more natural, but I am just so pleased with the movement and the size. I feel very cute.

I headed right home after that. I was tired. Excited but tired.

James was like "you look so pretty!!", and I was like. Thank you but I am tired. And having trouble feeling my feelings. I sat with them while they worked and played pokemon for a little bit. But then I just wanted to lay down.

So I slept. For a couple hours. I was just really tired. When I did wake up James came and held me for a little bit. But I knew I needed to get up.

Once James was done work I got up and shook off the sleepy. We would drive over to R house to get dinner. I should have agreed to bike, but it felt so daunting. Biking feels daunting but its really just the getting it outside part. I know Im being a baby about it but that show I feel.

We got our dinner and went to sit in the park. It was nice just being together. The plan was to hang out after we ate and read but I was cold. So instead we went home.

We played some pokemon. James would wait for their phone to charge before going for a evening bike ride. I played more pokemon and opened new islands and it was fun. James would bring back ice cream because they love me. But then had to run back out and help someone outside who was yelling that they needed help. James is a very good person who I love so much.

We have been hanging out since then. I am tired. Very tired. And while I look adorable, I do not feel good.

So I hope I feel better tomorrow. And you do too. Goodnight everyone!

3 notes · View notes

calpalirwin · 4 years

Text

Missed You

Summary: “Missed you” shower sex with Luke

A/N: Sort of requested by @talkfastromance4, @gosh-im-short, and @tea4sykes and by sort of, I mean we just all yelled.

Content: Read the summary lmao. Cute fluff ending because I can’t help it.

Word Count: 1.6k

And away, and away we go!

You chuckled slightly at the irony as you texted Luke that you were home. Normally it was him who left and was texting you when he was home. But after a weekend getaway with your friends, you were grateful to be back home. You petted Petunia as you unpacked your suitcase, wondering when Luke would be home himself.

Your phone pinged and it was Luke letting you know a package had arrived for you and that he’d be home sometime in the next hour.

You laughed again- this time at his straightforwardness- and set about finding the package, Petunia following after you. You knew what it was- blue hair dye- and you were still a little bummed it had arrived after you had left for the weekend because you had plans to dye your hair with your friends over the weekend and surprise Luke. But at least now he could help you. You could already picture the two of you giggling as he tried to carefully dye your hair, both of your cheeks burning from the width of your smiles as the dye stained the bathroom counter more than your actual hair.

As much as you wanted that moment, you also wanted the element of surprise. So you changed into a tank top you didn’t care about getting stained, snapped on the gloves, and went to work. The goop, naturally, got everywhere, including a smudge on your forehead right under your hairline, and your right ear. When you felt satisfied that you got every strand, you shed the gloves, set a timer, and went about trying to erase the evidence from the sink.

The timer still had a few minutes left when you heard the front door and the click of Petunia’s toes as she waddled over to greet Luke. “Hey, Piggy!” he greeted happily and you heard his shoes clatter to the floor. “Again?” was the laugh as Luke appeared in the bathroom doorway, watching as you tilted your head this way and that way, trying to assess if the dye was working.

Not “Hey, babe, how was your weekend?”

Not “Hey, babe, I missed you.”

Not even his small grunt of acknowledgement he gave you sometimes when he came home dead tired.

Just one look at what you were doing- nothing out of the ordinary as you frequently changed the color of your hair, earning you the nickname of Mini-Mike- and a simple, “Again?” with that bemused look that made his blue eyes dance.

“Yes!” you responded, proudly, sticking out your tongue, just as the timer went off. “Time to see what I did!” You turned on the shower and stripped off your clothes before stepping into the stream.

The water turned a dark blue as the dye washed down your body, staining the floor of the shower as you scrubbed your fingers through your hair, your fingers coming away blue. “Don’t forget your forehead and ear!” Luke’s voice sang out to you.

You grabbed a washcloth and started to rub furiously at your forehead and ear. “I got most of it off the sink!” you told him, hoping that if he knew you had cleaned the sink, he’d forgive you for the mess you were currently making in the shower. “Did I get it?” you asked, pulling the washcloth away from your face and waiting for him to appear to help you assess the damage.

The curtain snapped back and his beautiful face was grinning. “Not really, no,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Ugh!” you responded in slight frustration before going back to scrubbing. “I can’t see what I’m doing.”

“Easy there,” he chided gently.

“Well, you could help me…” you said, raising an eyebrow.

In response, his face disappeared and the curtain closed.

You sighed loudly and continued to scrub at your face. If he was respecting your bordering-on-stubborn independent streak, he was picking a hell of a time to do it. You could actually really use his help.

When the curtain pushed back and he stepped in, you couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. He held out his hand for the washcloth. You obliged, stepping to close the distance between you. One hand gently cupped your chin will the other scrubbed softly at your forehead. When he moved to your ear, you rested your forehead against his chest. “Missed you,” you mumbled happily, your hands snaking around his waist, and feeling him pressed against you.

“I can tell,” he murmured, his voice still holding a trace of humor as he set the washcloth aside and held you to him, both of you breathing the other in.

“Says you,” you giggled with a pointed glance at his hard-on.

“Yeah, says me,” he retaliated, pushing a finger in you, smirking at the moan that ripped out of your throat.

“Did you actually want to shower?” you asked between pants as his finger continued to work you over.

“You’re kinda in the way,” he shrugged, looking over your head at the stream that was pounding on your back and only washing over his feet.

“You’re kinda in mine,” you shot back. With the original purpose of your shower done, you were excited to get out to check your hair. But with now two of his fingers in you and his body pressed to yours like that, it was hard to focus on anything else. And by hard, you meant damn near impossible.

“Looks like one of us is gonna have to move.”

“Yeah, on your knees.” You tried to keep a straight face as you spoke the words, but bursted into a fit of giggles that you’d be surprised if he actually heard your demand.

He wordlessly sunk to the floor of the shower, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder as his mouth wrapped around your clit. “L-Luke!” you gasped, placing a hand against the wall to brace yourself.

He pulled back long enough to assure you that “You won’t fall, I got you.”

“Lu,” you whined, your hands tugging at his blonde curls, your eyes pleading. “Can’t reach you from here.”

He sighed and pushed himself back up to his feet, knowing that reaching him wasn’t your actual issue. “When have I ever let you fall?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Never,” you admitted, chewing on your bottom lip. He always made you unsteady in the best way during sex, but it always scared you when you were in the shower with him. Everything was so damn slippery. You could never relax enough to properly enjoy it all.

He kissed your forehead, reaching around you to turn off the shower. “C’mon, then,” he said, offering you his hand to guide you out of the shower.

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you wrapped yourself in a towel, always feeling bad that you ruined the moment.

“Why?” he questioned, taking your hand and leading you to the bed.

“Luke!” you gasped as he easily knocked you onto the mattress. “I’m still wet!”

“I would hope so,” he grinned, shooting you a wink before his stubble chin was scratching against your inner thigh.

You bit into your fist, moaning as his fingers and tongue worked you over. Your body responded to his eagerly, the knot in your lower stomach threatening to come undone. “Fuck,” his voice vibrated against you and that was all it took to tip you over the edge.

“Luke!” you screamed, your fists bunching the bedsheets, and your legs thrashing.

“Aw, you got more than that, don’t ya?” he pouted, slowing his movements, his free hand pinning your hips down.

“Need you!” you pleaded.

“One more,” he promised.

“Luke!” you moaned as his fingers and tongue sped up again. A combination of your sensitivity from your first orgasm and the way he continued to expertly hit all the right spots, had you quickly riding a second high, his name bouncing off the walls.

“Good girl,” he praised, placing a kiss on the inside of your thighs before crawling up your body to kiss your lips.

“Oh, FUCK!” Your eyes screwed shut and your fingers dug into his shoulders as he pushed into you.

“Yeah? This what you wanted?” he practically cooed as he started rocking his hips.

“Mhm! Yes! Fuuuccck!” You wrapped your legs around his waist, his thrusts getting deeper.

“Look at me, baby,” he instructed, his hand gripping your chin. “That’s my girl,” his blue eyes smiled down at you as you opened your eyes. His thumb traced at your lip before slipping into your mouth, both of you humming in delight.

His hand moved lower the wrap around your throat, applying no pressure beyond the steady hold and he unwrapped your legs from his waist and put your feet on his shoulders. Both of your moans echoed in your head as he hit even deeper than before. His thrusts got sloppy as you both came undone.

“Fuck,” you panted as you fought to catch your breath. “Gonna need another shower…”

He let go of your throat and let you legs fall, pressing his forehead against yours. “Can you even stand?”

“Nope.”

“Then lay with me a minute.” He pulled out, collapsing next to you. You snuggled up next to him, content to lay like this until the end of your days. “Missed you,” he murmured as he placed kisses in your hairline.

“Now you know what it feels like,” you teased, playfully.

His chest rumbled with his laugh. “Let’s just promise to always come home to each other, okay? Whatever we do, wherever we go, we end up in each other’s arms again when it’s all said and done.”

“Easiest promise I’ll ever keep.”

Tag List

@goeatsomelife @flameraine @cashtonasff5sos @here-for-the-uproars @cxddlyash @1-irwin-94 @baldcalum @sparkling-chaos @tea4sykes @youngblood199456 @5-seconds-of-obsession @gosh-im-short

Also tagging @aquarius-hood1996, I hope that’s okay!

#missed you #luke hemmings #luke hemmings fic #luke smut #5sos #wet-haired luke just hits differently- pun FULLY intended #galcal irwin

87 notes · View notes

kpopchangedme · 5 years

Text

Im Jaebeom | Pregnancy!au [M]

Jaebeom read so many baby-related books he's forgotten how to enjoy some simple pleasures... (Oh, and you are obviously cranky and hormonal but he knows better than to tell you that!)

Protagonists: Im Jaebeom & You

Word Count: 2.4k

Genre: NSFW - Newly Weds - Romance - Angst - Pregnancy - Pregnancy sex- Smut || [Drabble 2k]

Prompts: “I can’t help the fact that I’m so goddamn moody all the freaking time” + “Should have gotten a puppy.” [Anon]

Lyly's note: Is this sexy pregnancy!au worthy of Things I Wish I Knew or what? lol. Pregnant ladies, go get some! ;)

GOT7 | M.list

You let out a loud swear, stepping on a phone charger someone has somehow abandoned in the middle of the living room. It freaking hurts, like a tiny torture device, tore the sensitive skin of your foot. Of course, when you sit on the couch to examine it, it looks perfectly fine.

“Should've gotten a damn puppy,” You curse again under your breath, unreasonably livid.

Instantly, the guilty party's head pops out of the doorframe to his office. “Honey!” Jaebeom considers you from head to toe in outrage, “The Shrimp has ears.”

That's his thing now that the third-semester started; obsessing about auditory development and what the baby is able to hear. Swears, news coverage of dramatic events and loud quarrels are strictly prohibited. He plays music whenever he has the chance, boasting about how you are growing a music whiz.

Ever since he read his first damn pregnancy book, Jaebeom turned into a helicopter daddy-to-be, always hovering to make sure you are doing everything right. At the end of the third prenatal visit, he decided on moving his whole studio at home to work and mommysit – as he calls it.

By the time he was done with the fourth pregnancy book, you felt like nothing but an incubator to his spawn. That's not exactly what you wished your first year of life together would feel like. But then again, you didn't plan on getting pregnant on your honeymoon, the first time you two ditched contraception. It happened very fast. Everyone called it a blessing and you did too for a while, you were elated. Right until you started to lose your hair and struggle with acne like a damn teenager… Now it varies daily, you are either excited or scared shitless, in high spirits or easily irritable, you can't tell before it shifts. Overbearing, Jaebeom has gotten better than yourself at reading your daily disposition.

When you glare at him, he straightens worryingly in the doorframe, partly to blame for your current mood. “Don't look at me!” You snap in exasperation, still rubbing the sole of your aching foot. “Can you stop looking at me like that?”

He risks taking a few steps in your general direction, expertly assessing the situation, “Like what?”

"Like I’m a ticking bomb; like I'm gonna start yelling at you any second!” Freezing in the middle of the place, he presses his tongue to his cheek. You are almost shouting, but he knows better than to point that out.

“I’m not,” Jaebeom comes to sit by you guardedly. He makes sure not to maintain eye contact for too long, as though you're a dangerous fickle animal. "Did you hurt yourself?"

You hiss threateningly at the question but he still reaches for your perpetually bloated foot. Gently, he massages it, flashing you a dumb innocent smile. Still sullen, you at least allow him to do that much.

Fine, you do not completely hate having your man work from home.

“I can’t help the fact that I’m so goddamn moody all the freaking time...”

“Moody?” You cross your arms over your chest and Jaebeom chuckles, shaking his head. “You're the living definition of serene honey... You're the best. I love you.”

“Shuddup.” Groaning at the fake compliment, you offer your second foot after a minute of pampering, slightly appeased. “Stop trying so hard, it turns me into a cliché bitch.” You don't miss Jaebeom’s grimace at the word, but he isn't brave enough to correct you again. “Tell you what, if the baby's first word is a swear... I’ll do everything you ask of me for a year.”

"Everything? A whole year?” Raising his eyebrows suggestively, Jaebeom leans in for a lengthy kiss. “You know I can't say no to a promise like that. I would abuse that power, I’m quite imaginative.” You laugh against his mouth, sliding your arms around his neck for him to linger a little longer. Your hub has one hell of a gift, he can always change your mood, even on the worst days. That being said, you're always in the mood for some sexy time with him lately. You just have limited positions and flexibility. “I might teach the Shrimp your favourite cusses just to win that privilege.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

Laughing, Jaebeom sits back but you follow, managing to climb him without difficulty. It's clear he has started something with his massage, stirred your desire. “I’m not done,” he warns pointlessly, not talking about you, "I'm working hard." He points his chin to the studio, but you don't climb down. There's no way he believes you will let him go back to his office right now.

“Very hard yeah,” chuckling, you pull at the collar of his shirt, “Mister Producer.” He breaks the kiss to get rid of the piece of clothing himself, eager to entertain your favourable disposition. Some sacrifices are harder to make than others, and taking a break from work for quick sex is a no brainer. Your hands roam his shoulders, even after all this time you still can't get enough. “Did you save it?” Nudging your nose to his, you pull away to throw your loose gown over your head.

Jaebeom groans, already expertly unhooking your bra, “Of course I saved, but I’ll need to get back to it...” His mouth explores your neck and you throw your head back, savouring every single one of his kisses. “Feeling better?” He hums, lightly sucking your skin and you moan. Fine, having your man work from home is the best damn thing that ever happened to you. At your natural response, Jaebeom cups your swollen breasts, thumbs rubbing circles on your areolas.

“Shit.” Instantly, he shushes in disapproval making you laugh. You lean into him as much as your 29 weeks belly allows. “I can't help myself, I'm too sensitive.”

“I can see that baby,” Jaebeom marvels as his constant stroking of your nipples makes your thighs jerk. “I read third-semester’ orgasms are incredibly intense...” You rise to your knees to slide his fleece jogger pants down, smoothly freeing his erection. These darn books sure reveal some useful information sometimes… “What do you think?”

“Oh, how would I possibly know that?” He stops altogether, freezing under you at the joke. Barely two days prior, you finished twice before he did – very expressively – but still, he hesitates. For a man as skilled as he is, it sure is easy to make him question himself. Jaebeom is contemplating his life, a dubious look on his face when you take his cock in your palm. His eyes shut, goosebumps spreading on his body at your touch. Smirking, you stroke him leisurely, “I guess you’ll have to keep working hard so we can find out.” You say that but really, you’ve been so hypersensitive lately, he could make you reach your high without even trying.

“You know...” Opening his eyes lazily, Jaebeom frowns; “I'm not sure how I feel… About the Shrimp is hearing all our sexy talk...” It's your turn to stop everything.

Oh no, he did not just say that… Not after all the stuff he put you through!

“I swear to God, Im fucking Jaebeom! I let you have your way until now; I gave up caffeine, cheese and fish…” Suddenly livid, you start checking things off of your fingers. “You are worried of dumb stuff you read about despite the doctor's best opinion... So, I let you hire a cleaning service; I stopped driving myself around and dyeing my hair; I allowed you to post our ultrasounds all over your socials; I didn't say anything when you sent the cats away to your mom's…” His mouth is open in awe as you angrily go on. He's clearly racking his brain to find out what he said wrong. Him and his stupid pregnancy obsessions. “But this... This is where I draw the fucking line Jaebeom. If you stop making love to me because it creeps you out... Honest to God, I will murder you. I don't care what the baby hears. The doctor said it was safe. I want sex, I need sex. Give me sex, or I'll destroy you.”

“Honey,” Jaebeom bites his lips, struggling to conceal his amusement, “I wasn’t saying we should stop. It doesn't bother me like that...” His right palm rubs your lower back in repetition to ease you. “I was just wond–”

“I don't care what you wonder about,” you interrupt, still down, “just do me.”

Before Jaebeom can fully laugh at you flaring over nothing again, you're kissing him roughly, intended on getting your way. Wriggling under you to get to a better angle, he doesn't seem too affected, simply enjoying the hormonal rollercoaster ride. One of the actual perks of your pregnancy is being in the mood quickly and it's more than just your desire, it's physical too. Something that is undeniable when his hand finds its way between your legs. You're ready for him already, wet and messy. Though you rock into his palm briefly, there's only one thing on your mind right this instant.

You don't want to wait any longer to feel him inside you. You use Jaebeom's shoulder as a fulcrum to position yourself, raising on your knees and he helps, holding his cock as you gradually sink down. Once you're sitting back on him on the couch, filled, you pause, dropping your forehead to his. Eye to eye, out of focus, Jaebeom pecks your lips tenderly. His hands caress your belly on their way to the side of your thighs. That's enough to make you soft all over again. The power that man holds over you knows no limit. Careful, you rise, rocking your hips forward to add friction before sliding back down. This lazy back and forth goes on for a while and every time you fall down and your ass meets his thighs with a clap, you feel like breaking.

“Okay?” Jaebeom mumbles, using his strength to firmly guide you upwards. You're thankful for his help because you're heavy and tired. You nod, letting out a weird throaty sound when he fills you up once more.

Jaebeom chuckles, entertained by your acute senses and unusual reactions. Sliding on the large couch to lay, he makes sure you follow closely, riding him. From this position, he can take better control, raising his hips to slam into you. You coo when he does, hovering above to let him have his way. You're already too taken by so little. There's a gentle thud in your belly at the shift of position but Jaebeom doesn't seem to feel the baby stir, awakened by your unrest. Thank God, because the last thing you want right now is for him to stop or slow down. It's not something abnormal or new at all, but now that the baby's movements are getting more noticeable from the outside, you wouldn't be surprised if it messed up with Jaebeom's sexy groove. In the dark, he picks a swift pace, thrusting faster but lighter, making sure to stretch this moment for as long as you both can.

Yet, you're shaky and unfocused, unable to calm yourself. Way too fast, you come undone, overwhelmed by the friction and pleasure. Ecstatic, you drop on your hands, on all fours, as your intense orgasm washes through you. Aware you're peaking already, Jaebeom maintains his rhythm, breathlessly laughing at your shortage of stamina. Sure, he was right, pregnancy orgasms are amazing but they also come almost unannounced and are ridiculously exhausting.

Losing the smile, Jaebeom frowns in concentration, probably trying to finish too. After a whole minute, you're still being carried by your own paroxysm, core quavering when his hips halt altogether. Sighing deeply, he cums in spurts inside you, letting go probably more hastily than he would have wanted to. He's a team player. He knows you won't be able to handle him for long after oversensitivity hits you.

Afterwards, you both stay like that for a moment – as one – trying to repossess yourselves. Some days, it's like you're an entirely different person. Food doesn't taste the same, you yell at your caring husband over nothing and your orgasms are absurdly drawn-out.

“Hey,” Jaebeom speaks up after an eternity and you take it as a cue to pull away, letting him fall out of you, “that was very quick. Are you alright, was it good?” Typical of him lately, being so overly concerned, you snort. Reaching for the tissue box on the coffee table, he offers them up so you can clean yourself. Still overpowered, you nod, laying back naked on the couch to do so.

What a sight it must be, a stranded whale in the middle of his living room.

Jaebeom doesn't seem to see that though. Transfixed, he positions himself to comfortably kiss and hold your heavy belly. His fingers linger, tracing patterns over the stretched skin. “What about you Shrimp?” He asks mouth pressed to the bump, tickling. “How are you doing?” Sure enough, the baby rolls, following the sound of his familiar reassuring voice.

“We definitely woke her up”, you announce casually, grabbing one of his hands to position it better. Now that it's over, hopefully, he won't mind or get weirded out by that idea. “And you’ll need another nickname, we're both getting huge.”

“Sorry,” Jaebeom apologizes with adoration when there's a more obvious kick. To him, his baby girl's tumbling never gets old. To you neither, but it's a different sensation entirely. Whispering in confidence, he adds, “You'll always be a shrimp to me." At the words, you can't help the flutters you feel, not from the baby. When he looks up this time, Jaebeom doesn't seem as apprehensive of your reaction. You're on the magical post-coital cloud of happiness, together. “What?” If it could, your heart would physically expand from emotion at the sight, swelling with unconditional love. As an only answer, you run a hand through his locks and he cutely grins. “Shrimp, I think we're safe for now. I don't think mommy wants to murder daddy anymore...”

“Daddy needs to get over himself,” you dramatically roll your eyes, smiling, “he knows mommy loves him, no matter what…”

GOT7 | M.list

244 notes · View notes