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curatoroffiction · 2 years

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What You’ve Hidden Part 2

This is a continuation of a story I started writing in response to a post made here. (Which is where you’ll find Part 1 of this story) This is based off of @underqualified-human’s post on their “? Yuu AU” concept, and was really fun to write! I definitely love harassing Crowley. I know I write a lot of anti-Crowley propaganda, but I fuckin’ love his character. He’s such a slimeball and I love it. XD Storytime stops before Idia’s chapter because it hasn’t been released to the English version yet.

----- Story is reader-insert, gender-neutral, and is also a continuation of an existing chunk of story I already wrote. The boys discuss how much they really know the Ramshackle Prefect. That is, until the prefect arrives on the scene and begins to explain themself.

----- The conversation quickly moved from a lighthearted conversation about the Ramshackle prefect to a cautious journey embarking through the group's delicate notions of trust.

"I don't buy it - ___ can't lie. They're too honest." Ruggie shrugs. He's never seen you lie in a way that mattered. You were always so straightforward with him and everyone else in Savannaclaw, even when it probably would've benefitted you to lie. "They're not a goody two-shoes, but they sure aren't about to pull off a scheme."

Jamil on the other hand is now rethinking everything he knows about you. "On the contrary, I've found them to be quite.. Crafty, when they needed to be." He shakes his head thinking back to how you so easily would sneak out of containment prior to his overblot. How you could escape and even collect help. He starts connecting the dots on how you always seem to know just where to look or who to talk to in order to collect help. One could say it's fate, but it was hard for him to believe in fate after meeting you.

"... They *are* capable of lying.. Lying well, at that.." Riddle murmurs, not comfortable with the conversation's route, but incapable of stopping himself from treading into these waters as people talk more about it. "When Ace and Deuce want something kept hidden, they're very good at hiding things from people." His brow furrows as he thinks on the last dorm inspection.

"Well that at least tells us they're loyal to their friends!" Kalim smiles big, refusing to fret. "And that's all I need to know to enjoy their company."

"Are they loyal to their friends? Or are they just loyal to their resources?" Azul once again steers the conversation into the depths.

"Friends! If they were just looking for power, they wouldn't have helped Ace and Deuce when they got in trouble with you, right?" Kalim cocks his head to the side, looking to Azul with genuine confusion. It wasn't hard to imagine what motivated you in his eyes.

"Mmm.. I'm not so sure about that." Jade starts delving into this thought exercise. "Through those two, ___ got a chance to interact with Riddle, which dragged him into their scuffle with Leona - Which was the primary reason it wasn't a disaster. Leona helped with Azul, Azul helped with Jamil, Jamil helped with Vil, and so on..." Many of the dormleaders had never heard of the intertwining threads of their interactions with the prefect, or how perfectly it all seemed to meld together.

This starts to garner some genuine concern, causing even Malleus and Kalim to think on the coincidental nature. It's a little too perfect.

The guys are quiet as they feel themselves consumed with the idea that you might actually be a complete stranger. Someone who has come so close to them all, snaking your way in with ulterior motives. However, they each process the concept very differently.

Riddle just flat out refuses to believe it. He thinks Azul's being paranoid and that you'd have no real reason to lie to him. And even if his overblot put you off from him, you'd have no real reason to lie to Ace and Deuce. No, Azul's the one being paranoid here, and he won't get dragged down with it.

Trey feels like it's a nonsense consideration. Even if you weren't genuine when you first met everyone here, you surely warmed up with time - Isn't that just how being a social person works? No one puts all their cards out on the table without reason. He's got no reason to doubt you.

Leona on the other hand, lets his mind dance on the edge of the idea. He'd seen firsthand how you can change your tune if you need or want to. You're not above forcing people's hands, but.. You also don't really subscribe to the "Work smarter not harder" mantra that it really takes to scheme. You put too much effort into the things you do to be someone who isn't, on some level, genuine. Still, he underestimated you once, and doesn't make mistakes like that twice.

Ruggie on the other OTHER hand figures there's no reason to worry. Hell, he's fake as hell when he wants to be. As far as he's concerned, everyone's got a grift, and it'd be nice to hear you had one too. Even if your friendship was founded on a lie, he doesn't care. You've never treated him like he owed you, and you saved his life from Leona lashing out at him. As far as he's concerned, that makes you someone worthy of respect at the least.

Jade himself doesn't really care either which way. He likes you and is amused by you, but whether you value him as a friend or not matters very little to him. If he wants to deal with you, he will. He doesn't need an invitation or prior rapport. Still, he likes to think he knows you well. Even if he doesn't know your real name, he knows how to poke and prod you to get desired responses, and at the end of the day, isn't that enough?

Kalim's bothered by the prospect. He shakes his head outright refusing to even consider a world where you were disingenuous. Still, his mind thinks on Jamil. Someone he's held dear to his heart since he was a very young child was able to fool him and use him and control him. ... He doesn't like the idea that there could be secrets you keep from him. Still, if you do have secrets, maybe there's a good reason for it. Maybe you're afraid? Or you just need a safe place to open up? Maybe he just needs to be a better friend.

Jamil furrows his brow in thought. He'd overlooked you once, only to be surprised, and much like Leona, he doesn't make that mistake twice. But unlike Leona, he has to care as far as Kalim's wellbeing is concerned. He doesn't think you'd ever do anything to hurt Kalim, considering you once tracked him down to give him treasure that Kalim tried to sneak to you. If you were in it for the money, you'd have never done that. Plus, there were plenty of times that you could have hurt Kalim by now and you didn't. If you were some kind of physical threat, you'd have struck by now. But if it's a power grab, what kind of power triumphs over money?

Vil's not intensely bothered by the idea of you using every tool in your arsenal to collect strength. If you really were so quietly calculated, it'd be something to applaude. A fake smile here, a warm grin there, you're bound to make useful connections. It's no surprise to him that you were able to make useful connections that echoed forward. He finds himself annoyed with Azul's persistence on the matter, figuring that Azul himself has been bothered by this and is now trying to make it everyone else's problem. People often try to project their insecurities onto the people around them.

Rook on the other hand is delighted at the prospect. If you suddenly showed yourself to have a side that even he couldn't see coming, what a rush that would give! Maybe he should poke and prod you more. Maybe he needs to test the waters and see what really makes you tick? People often let the most real facets of themselves surface under pressure..

Idia already had like 20 fears centered around dealing with people going into this conversation - Most of which had to do with them lying to him already. This machiavelean web of social warfare that Azul is painting just gives him a headache. It's like when the business man thinks he's onto something in boardgame club and just won't relent. Idia may not have a high social self esteem, but he knows Azul well enough to not let this get under his skin. At least, that's what he tells himself. It's hard to not be bothered by the idea, but he won't get taken for one of Azul's wild rides.

Ortho's only bothered by this line of conversation because it implies that you could lie in a way that tricks his censors - And that just isn't like you at all! But any attempt to protect your good name is just met with Azul shrugging and saying 'Anything is possible, I suppose.'

Malleus is the only one who is really torn asunder by this conversation. At first, he was offended that anyone could think that way about you, being your fiercest protector in the matter, but then it hit him that you've always been a bit weird. You've never been scared of him - Was that an act? How could he ever really know? He knew he wasn't just a means to an end, but he had no clue if you befriended him genuinely or not. Did you really not know who he was when you met? Or was that a ploy? Whatever the case could be, he's gutted at the idea that you could be anything less than a friend.

Lilia isn't bothered by the idea. He pretends to be someone he isn't all the time. It's good fun! Even people who've spent their lives hiding their true selves in favor of a false self give away truths. He is, however, bothered by the dark look on Malleus' face coupled by the thunder of the rolling clouds outside. "I mean, everyone has something to hide, don't they, Azul?" His tone is more pointed, as though he'd uncover Azul's secrets for all to see if he answers incorrectly.

A shiver runs down Azul's spine at Lilia's sharper gaze, surprising him with the reaction. ".... Yes, but when someone knows all of our secrets, shouldn't we get to know at least SOME of their's?" He looks to the others to back him up, but isn't getting much help.

He can't be the only one bothered by this, right?

---

The group is deep in thought when you arrive. You step into the room and all eyes are on you. Grim gulps from your shoulder, looking at all the staring eyes. Even he can't ignore the palpable energy of the room. ".. Did we miss somethin'?" He asks tentatively.

Azul takes the lead, snaking his way beside you with a big smile. "Of course not! We were just discussing how we don't seem to know anything about you, ___. Tell us about yourself?"

You take a glance around the room, which seems to confirm Azul's claim that the room is waiting for you to talk about yourself. "...." You blink. ".. What do you wanna know?"

"Well, your name, where's it come from? What's it mean? Tell us about it."

Your eyes narrow as you look at the businessman, who laughs off your suspicions. With Azul, there's always an angle. They must've had a bet about your name. Your eyes relax as you look around the room of your friends. Riddle looks annoyed with the octopus man. Trey gives a quiet shrug like 'I dunno why this guy is being weird'. Leona looks more annoyed with Azul than he does with you, but Ruggie seems interested in hearing you explain your answer. Azul is frevently awaiting an answer, Jade making his biggest creepiest smile to the side as his eyes won't budge from you. Kalim looks somewhere between distressed and excited. Jamil looks like he's trying his hardest to look indifferent, but you know by the way he glances at you that he's invested in your answer.

Vil actually moves to shoo Azul away from your shoulder as he takes over the conversation. "Azul's been 'kind' enough to express that we don't know much about you or where you came from. You came here so abruptly, and you had so little to your name in ways of protection. It's still an amazing mystery to us as to how you adapted so well." Quite the improv actor, Vil smoothly transitions you into the conversation with the grace of a socialite. While he's not bothered by the idea of you being cunning and cutthroat, he IS bothered by the idea that Azul might slip up and make it appear as though the entire group is worried. Besides, any chance to get to know you better is a gift.

Rook smiles delightedly as Vil takes over. If there's anything you're hiding, they'll surely be able to sense it. "Ah yes, Trickster, you fascinate with how otherworldly you are! Please tell us more about yourself. How DID you acclimate so well?"

Idia feels sick to his stomach. More social nonsense is piling up. And on the one day Ortho convinced him to come in-person to one of these meetings. He can't just check out and play a game as things are heating up, so he's stuck just looking visually awkward and avoiding your gaze. Ortho looks determined, but happy to see you. He waved when you first came in, which signaled everyone that you were there in the first place. Now that things are getting weird, he's just excited to have a chance to monitor your vitals while you're under questioning, so he can prove to the others that you're not lying.

If you're lying, he'll know.

Malleus looks like he's stuck in his own head and upset over something. Deep in thought - When he finally looks to you, his eyes melt a little and the storm temporarily relaxes. Lilia's more concerned with how strong Malleus' reaction to this than whatever you could possibly hide from them. He does find it amusing that he could scare Azul with just a judgemental glance though, and files that away as something fun to do if the young octopus man's antics cause Malleus or you grief. He's got thousands of years of judgemental dad looks stashed away for such an occasion.

"Well, uh.." You're not sure what question to answer, so you just answer Vil's because he's less creepy about it. "I just did what I could to survive. I'm as surprised as anyone that I've been able to last this long." And it's true - Everything you've done has been on the fly. Ever since arriving in Wonderland, you've found yourself in increasingly strange circumstances. You shrug, sorry that you don't have a better answer.

"But surely, you must have had something - Skills you've relied on, plans you've laid out. Things that helped you survive through the messes you've encountered?" This time, it's Rook speaking up, trying to coax more out of you.

"Not really, no. I showed up and had a flaming monster thrown at me, I held him up by the scruff of his neck and Crowley dubbed me as his handler. I was given a job as a janitor, and I'd have done it just fine, but Grim wasn't having it and threw a fit. We got in trouble for it and got a bigger workload with Ace. Then he dragged Deuce into the mess and we all got expelled.." You recount your first week here at Night Raven College.

No one ever really heard the story of what happened when you got here before.

You were a janitor? Crowley didn't let you be a student? But you came through the mirror! You couldn't even go home! The frustration of the fear that you're anything but genuine slowly bubbles away as they begin to find themselves annoyed with Crowley and his handling of the situation.

"If I got expelled, Crowley was gonna throw me out, and I had nothing, so I had to do what he told me to in order to stick around. We went to the mines, fought an overblot monster that seemed ancient, and got a magestone to replace the one we broke. From there, I was pretty ride or die for Ace and Deuce." You shrug.

Azul isn't having it though. "That explains why you got involved when they had trouble with Riddle, by why did you get involved when Savanaclaw was scheming?" He won't forget that you've somehow endeared everyone here to you.

"Crowley showed up at my door and told me to figure out why students were getting hurt. When I told him 'Nah', he blackmailed me with my food budget."

The room's stunned to silence.

".... Crowley.. *blackmailed* you?" Riddle's the first to speak up, and he's appalled and pissed. That whole ordeal was incredibly dangerous! He knew Crowley was slimy from time to time, but you didn't even have magic! That goes against several regulations!

"With your food budget no less.." Trey looks disturbed. Ruggie's big grin from earlier is gone.

You shrugged once again, desensitized to the idea. "I didn't want to get involved, but then I had to."

None of them can sense a lie off of you, but they're all listening attentively. They need to know more. How do the threads of fate connect you to them?

"What about after that? You didn't really need to help Ace and Deuce when Azul's plans came to fruition." Jade now speaks up, curious. "Surely, if you were scraping to survive at that point, it would have been easier to just ignore and let them fall to their own stupidity. It would even be a great lesson for them, yes?"

"I wasn't gonna get involved that time either - You're right, they deserved a lesson. Even Grim got in trouble there, but I was so tired at that point."

"So what happened??" Kalim asks eagerly, moving closer to listen, like his ears can't hear you if he can't see you well enough.

"Crowley again. Said faculty couldn't get involved because Azul wasn't technically breaking any rules, and he needed the problem fixed. Once again, I told him no and he threatened my housing security."

Malleus' eyes narrow. The storm outside is slowly building again, but this time for a very different reason. Azul feels sheepish. At every turn, you were being threatened and forced into involving yourself in the lives of the other students. So then why were you still so friendly? Ortho's eyes have gotten frustrated at the idea of what you're telling them. He's visibly upset. Rook is stone silent as you have every ounce of his attention.

"And with Jamil..?" Ruggie jabs a thumb in the direction of the long-haired boy from the sands.

"Crowley told me I had to keep the school's heating running while everyone was away, and I barely was able to remind him to get me food for the winter break. Even then, he held it as a reward I had to earn. He gave me a cellphone in case there was an emergency, but the damn thing was on the worst possible plan, and he never picked up when I called him. Kalim invited us to the dorm for a feast, and Grim and I were so hungry that I decided to let him treat us. When we got there, we got roped into everything.."

"But you escaped. You could have just stayed away at that point." Jamil finally speaks up, remembering the events. He's embarrassed by his actions, but he needs to know why you came back.

You throw a thumb towards Azul. "Yeah, but I only escaped because I accidentally flew the magic carpet into Octavinelle, and Azul made me take him back because he had his own agenda. I didn't wanna be indebted to him for the damage the carpet did, and I didn't trust him enough to return the carpet safely, so I begrudgingly obliged and got roped into bullshit again."

Azul looks embarrassed as once again the attention's all on him. This conversation is more exposing him for his shady bullshit than you for yours.

Luckily, he's saved by Vil speaking up once again; "With my.. incident - You were pushed into it by Crowley again, yes?"

"Yeah. Your troupe needed a place to stay, and my dorm was the only one equipped for it. I wanted to stay as far out of your way as possible, but it was kind of impossible when I was named as the manager and you knew where I slept. You whipped everyone into shape, and even pushed me to do my best, lest I find my snacks.. uh.."

"Tampered with as punishment." Jamil nods, remembering the spell Vil had been using. You were in a tough situation, and once again you made the call that allowed you your best chance of survival.

---

Before you can explain anything further, a familiar voice can be heard.

---

"Hello my gracious students! Thank you all for coming to this meeting!" Crowley has finally arrived. Half an hour late. He opens his eyes from his delight to find several people staring at him with malice. He blinks and gulps down his nerves. "... I seem to have missed something." ----- If you like stories like this, check out the rest of my collection in my Masterlist on my profile, or check out my stuff on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuratorOfFiction

#Fiction #Fanfiction #Writing #Writing from other people's posts #Twisted Wonderland #Twst #disney's twisted wonderland #Reader Insert #Reader-Insert #Gender Neutral MC #GN MC #Gender Neutral Main Character #Gender Neutral Reader

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taylormarieee · 3 months

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Sexy professor and sexy affairs Professor!Rick!Grimes no outbreak AU

Summary: You had a huge crush on your professor, as did every other female in the college auditorium in your class. What happens when your a little behind and decide to make a move-(not just to help your grade, but your lustful intentions as well).

Pairing: Professor!Rick!Grimes x fem!college!student!reader

Word Count: 2.7k (May be proofread, bare with me people)

Warnings: Lustful yearning, mentions of readers revealing clothing, Age gap (Rick- early 30s Reader- early 20s), female gossip, reader falling asleep in class, reader makes it up to Rick (IFYKYK)→ oral (M receiving), kissing, nothing much

A/N: This might be a series idk, i already have like four uncompleted series in the works and idk if I can take responsibility for another. If you guys do want a series I'll happily do one but for now this is just a little starter idea, ENJOY, MWAH💋

Rick Grimes, the best professor you could ever ask for. He was kind, determined, and made sure his students were well educated.

He loved seeing every single one of his student's answer questions and interact with the class( mainly just the females to get his attention). There were times after class he had to talk to the males and certain females about interacting more and engaging or else they're going to fail.

You on the other hand never had that problem. When you engaged, you passed with flying colors. You were at the top of all your classes and never missed a day or a lesson.

Professor Grimes was your American Literature teacher. He taught you study of writing and literature along with an introduction to different elements of writing. With his class you got to dabble in a lot of different elements to be able to get your degree in English.

Today was another day and his class was next. You were always excited when his class came along because you loved his(him) class.

You sat in your seat as normal, right next to your best friend, Candy Simmons. She was your ride or die, the person you could always call and she'll be there (and your mother as well).

"Candy, do you have everything? Sometimes you forget and you know how Professor Grimes gets when you rush out to get your books." You say to her with an eyebrow raised in concern.

Before Candy can even respond Rick is already starting class. "Alright guys, let's get to it. Today we're going to be reading Romeo and Juliet. Now has anyone read this book before today?" He asks looking around the class.

Only two people have raised their hands. "Ok, so you guys have two options. You can read with us and break the book down and discuss or you can go and start your homework on any classes your behind on." He says, addressing the two students.

One student raises his hand to speak, "uhm professor grimes? I'd like to read the book again, I'm not behind in my classes. Can I stay?" Rick nods his head at the boy and then turns his attention to the other student.

"I would like to go complete some assignments please professor? Is that ok?" the female student asks. He nods his head again and that student silently packs up and makes her way to the door.

"Thank you professor." she says, smiling at him. He smiles back and then turns back to the class. "Alright let's begin. Everyone in the very top row come get your books. Remember the numbers on your books because these will be your books." He says.

Your row finally get's to get their books and as you're waiting, you make eye contact with Rick. He didn't have a wedding ring on his hand but he used to.

You know he has a kid because he used to have to leave early to pick him up from school if he was sick. You never knew what happened to his wife but one day he just started showing up without his wedding ring on.

You were so zoned out you didn't even notice that it was almost your turn to grab a book. Once you stepped up he spoke.

"Hey, are you ok? you seemed a little zoned out there. Just wanna make sure your ok." He asks kindly with a concerned look on his face.

His southern drawl went straight to your cunt. Your little bud pulsating at the way he said your name.

"i-i'm ok Professor. When we're done can I by any chance stay after class to talk to you?" you reply nervously. 'why are you so nervous, get it together' you thought.

His face immediately softened and turned into one of care and kindness, no longer concerned. "Of course you can." he replies with a smile.

You smile back and say "thank you professor." before walking back to Candy.

"Girll, he could not take his eyes off you! I told you it was a good idea to wear that sexy ass outfit." Candy whisper-yells giggling.

"Oh stop it Candy. He was just concerned about me cause I was zoned out in the line." you say rolling your eye's at her before looking at your books number. You had the number 17.

You looked at candy, she had 18. You open the page to the table of contents and flip a little more until you reach the first chapter.

"Alright guys so were going to begin reading..."

"Wake uppp!" Candy says, shaking your whole body. You flinch as you wake up noticing half if not all the students are gone leaving you, Candy, and Professor Grimes.

'Ohhhh no! Did I sleep through his class?' you thought. You face palm and groan immediately mumbling out curses and apologies.

"Shit shit shit! Professor I'm so sorry, I've never slept through you class before! I went to bed early so I don't know how I could have fallen asleep. I even drank coffee this morning to make sure I stayed-" you rambled before he cut you off.

"It's ok. You are welcome to stay after class and read with me along with the thing you said you needed to stay later for anyway." He says with a charming tight-lipped smile on his face.

You feel heat rush up to your cheeks and smile. "Ok Professor, thank you so much!" you say walking down with Candy towards his desk.

"Candy I see you later ok? I'll meet you back at the dorm." You say with a smile.

"No wait, I won't be at the dorm remember, I have volleyball practice remember? So I won't be at the dorm till like 7 or 8pm? Depends on how long coach will makes us train for." Candy responds.

"Oh ok so then. i'll stay here a little later., maybe meet you in the gym or something. Walk back with you?" you ask.

"Yea, that's cool, later! Bye professor." she bids her goodbye's with a smile and walks away.

"Later Ms. Simmons." He replies with a smile. He then turns to you and smiles. "Alright, let's get started shall we? What do you wanna work on first?" he asks, that southern drawl getting ahold of your mind.

It's as if your body can't control itself and your thighs press together giving you that pleasant feeling.

"Uh, maybe we can start on my essay that I am having trouble with before we start on the story if that's ok?" You asks.

'Hey, this is your time, take over and lead the way." He says with a smile scooting closer to his desk.

"Ok, thanks professor." You says with a smile. You wonder if he usually lets women take control in bed. You reach across his desk to grab a pencil and your arms kind of squish your boobs together making your boobs more visible than before in your v-neck tank top.

Your eyes flicker to him and you see him glancing at your chest. You sit back down and he clears his throat.

You smirk and reach for your bag to pull out your laptop but before you could get it Rick speaks. "Hey, how about you sit next to me so we can work on it together, so it's not a struggle for you to have to find space for your laptop." He suggests scooting over.

You smile and get up moving your chair towards his chair. He gets up and closes his door. you could have sworn you hear the lock click but maybe it was the sleepiness getting to you.

You bend over at the right time to get your laptop out of your bag and your mini skirt rides up your plush thighs a little revealing your ass cheeks and a bit of your pretty pussy covered in pink underwear.

Rick's breath hitched as he gets a look of your ass. He silently curses himself for looking at you that way but how can he be mad at himself when he knows your doing this on purpose.

But if he knows of your antics, why are they working on him so well? Maybe it's because he's fantasized about you for so long. Maybe it's because he'll take breaks in the bathroom to jerk off to the smell of you, to the new revealing outfit your wearing.

He shakes his thoughts away and sits back down when you sit back down.

"Ok, so what I didn't understand exactly was the concept of Chapter 5. The book you gave us weeks ago was great, I loved it, but chapter 5 has too many things going on and I don't exactly know which concept you want me to focus on." You explain to him.

"Well, it's not really about what I want you to focus on exactly it more about how you feel about the certain concepts. Every single person in this class has had a different perspective on this specific chapter." He says. You look at him with doe eyes as he explains and he can feel his cock straining through his pants.

He grunts and continues what he was saying. "A-As I was saying, What I want y-you to do is just focus on your feelings on the concepts. You can choose a event that happened that really stood out to you and write your opinion on it. I'll be happy with that." He finishes gulping as he looks at your laptop again before glancing back at you.

"mhm, Ok! Thank you professor. Now I'll finish this when I get to my dorm, so now on to Romeo and Juliet. I've heard about this book and it's been on my to read list but I never got around to it." you say.

"Well, you would have loved the first few chapters if you didn't fall asleep." He says with a chuckle. You smile at him and he smiles back.

"I'm terribly sorry for that, how could I possibly make it up to you professor?" You ask batting your eyelashes at him with hooded eyes.

He gulps and looks at you before rubbing his hands on his jeans. He's 100% sure if you took one look down you'll be able to see how hard he is.

He knows what you are implying but he couldn't possibly do it. Your his student. But I mean, your an adult, your old enough to make your own decisions and so is he.

"I told you, it's fine. It's nothing really. Y-You were responsible enough to stay after class and make it up so theres nothing more you can do." He says running a hand through his curls.

You always though his curls were so pretty. They were the perfect shade of brown and they really brought out the blue in his eyes. His stubble was so sexy and made look so wise and so hot you wondered how it would feel on the inside of your plush thighs.

"Oh but professor Grimes, I feel like there is something else I can do. You seem to have a problem and I feel like it was by my doing." You say biting your lip.

'Shit, she knows' Rick thinks. His eyes widen at your words and he bites his lip. He shifts in his seat and groans when the friction from his jeans rub his cock just right.

"Oh come on professor. I know what you want. No one has to know, and I swear on that." You say fiddling with his pants zipper. His head drops towards your hand and he grabs it.

"I-I can't. It's bad enough that I'm hard right now. W-We have to focus on your wor-" His sentence is cut off by the feeling of your hand palming his cock.

While he was talking your hand was making moves and ended up in his boxers. The feeling of your warm, soft hand stroking his cock felt amazing.

The pleasure that is coursing through Rick's veins is immaculate. Your strokes are slow and rough. Everything he needs to cum in your hand right now.

You slide from your chair to your knees. You tap Rick's leg and he lifts his hips so you can pull down his pants and his boxers revealing his pretty leaking cock.

You lick his slit and his cock jumps. You look up at Rick when you take his entire lenghth in your mouth wasting no time at getting a taste of him.

"See, I knew you wanted this. I knew you wanted me just as badly as I want you." You say with a smirk on your face before spitting on Ricks cock and taking it right back down your throat.

Your gaging on his cock and the contractions and vibrations from your moans and throat are sending multiple waves of pleasure to Ricks cock that has his head spinning and eyes rolling back.

By the way his cock is twitching you can tell he's about to come. His hand comes down to massage at your breasts taking in all your glory of your face glistening with saliva and your boobs spilling out of your v-neck. ( this is the top I imagine reader wearing)

You moan around his cock again, jerking off whatever can't fit in your mouth. So lost in the moment your only now realizing how big and pretty Rick's cock his. Nicely trimmed pubic hair, pretty pink tip leaking and oozing with precum.

"Oh shit princess. Gonna -fuck- cum down this pretty throat of yours, hmm? Want your professor to cum down your throat baby?"

You shake your head yes as you gag on his cock some more, your eyes rolling back and your clit throbbing at his dirty words.

He was so well put together but what you didn't know was how much of a slut Professor Grimes was. " Oh fuck I'm gonna cum i'm cumming baby, fuck!" He crys out.

His hands find the back of your head and he lets out the sluttiest moan before letting out a string of curses as he cums down your throat.

"Shit shit shit, right there baby, doing soo good for me." he says. His eyes roll back as he moans out.

Releasing his hot, stick, thick load down your throat and you swallow every bit of it. You suck on his tip overstimulating him and he tries to pull your head off him whimpering and whining at the feeling.

You kiss his tip and finally let up and smile at him sticking your toungue out for him to see you swallowed everything he gave you.

"Oh fuck. Ohhh shit that felt amazing." He says chuckling. He gets up and grabs your hand to help you off your knees.

"Gotta hand it to you," He says as he watches you fix your shirt and hair while he fixes his pants. "I loved seeing you on your knees." he says with a chuckle.

You bite your lip at the compliment and smile at him. "And I gotta hand it to you Professor," You say seductively walking closer to him. "You taste really good." you say with a smirk on your face.

You walk around him and grab all your stuff packing it away. Once you have your bag on your back and the book in your hand you walk up to Rick.

"I'll see you tomorrow professor grimes." You say seductively and kiss him passionately on the lips.

You grab his neck and moan into his mouth allowing his tongue to slip in your mouth.

You pull away from the breathtaking kiss and the last thing connecting you two is a string of saliva.

"I'll be sure to stay after class again, this was fun and thank you sooo much for the extra help Professor." You say with a wink opening the door and leaving.

You smile to yourself walking down the hall and leave him there astonished.

Oh yea, he for sure need more of you and that pretty mouth. If Rick wasn't excited for tomorrow already, this moment just made him 10x more excited to see you again.

Maybe next time he'll get a taste of that pussy he's been fantasizing about.

Taglist: @dustbunniess @dollyfl1rt @rickswh0r3 @sinsandsweetness @justjasminne @itzdarling @versatilehater @aerangi @2svnder @keiva1000 @prettyluhdavis @hutchersonsgurl @grimesuniversexx @liliesdiary @writella

#my man <3 #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #the walking dead #rick grimes fanfiction #professor rick gries AU #no outbreak au #rick grimes the walking dead

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greentrickster · 3 months

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For the Great God Airplane AU, this time I've been thinking a bit more about Airplane and Shen Jiu having another, proper meeting after Shang Qinghua's regained his divine memories. Because, while it was... nice to hear that open acceptance, that Shangdi was glad that Shen Jiu managed to become Ninth Road, that even his creator thought the fate he'd written for Shen Jiu was too harsh... the fact remains that he still wrote it. Still allowed it to happen.

(He came down from Heaven and incarnated to witness these long-destined events, and to save the world... but not early enough to save Shen Jiu.)

And that sort of thing leaves questions, especially after having had a bit over ten years to think on it (to stew on it (for, for all that they love him, his heavenly siblings openly love Airplane Shangdi best of all things, so he's never even considered speaking to them on this subject))). And the most important question is simply...

Why?

Why allow this to happen?

If you love this world and its people so much, if you wanted to save them from destruction, why let the events leading to it play out in such a way? Why try and change it as a man instead of an all-powerful god?

Why?

They're sitting in one of An Ding's gardens, near enough Shang Qinghua's leisure house to ensure privacy, but nowhere they ever encountered each other in Ninth Road's first life. Shang Qinghua had been getting a breath of fresh air before his newest Official chose this moment to pop up next to him again, as refined and skittish as a street cat still learning how to trust. And, as the one who created him, Qinghua knows exactly how close to truth that comparison is, and mentally rearranges his schedule to prioritize this discussion before doing his best to answer in a way someone who hasn't been there from the beginning will properly understand. In the end he pulls a book out of his sleeve, holding it in his hands.

"Okay, so, books have a lot of words in them, right? And when you're first writing the book, it's fairly easy to go back and check over what you've written, make changes, correct mistakes. But once- once it's published? And there are people out there reading it, buying their own copies? After that it's- I can edit my own copy as much as I want, and it'll be the most accurate version, because I'm the author, but I can't go and just... edit everyone else's copy as well, you know? Maybe if it was just one or two copies that I gave to friends, but not-not everyone's.

"And this- my story. About you and Luo Binge. 'The Grand Fate of the World,' if you want to use your heavenly siblings' term for it... Imagine that as a book. Not just one book, a whole series of books, a series that's millions of words long, and everything in this world has its own set of them. Like, look," he bends down and scoops up a handful of dust, letting it sift between his fingers to blow away in the breeze once he's upright again. "Every single particle of dust I just picked up? Had the equivalent of its own copy of that story inside it. And it's the same for every speck of dust, every drop of liquid, every sliver of bone, every breath of air, every tiny piece of anything that makes this world. And- and I couldn't go through and edit every single copy of those stories, not even as Shangdi, not without- ...not without taking the world apart into nothing again and completely remaking it.

"And by the time it all started to feel really real to me, more than just a chance to tell a story I'd wanted to write more than anything in my last life, but tell it right this time.... by the time I reached that point, it was- hundreds of years had passed, and- and the world was full of people, real, living people, and I had my Officials, and they were part of this world too, and- and they were all real and I couldn't just... erase them like they were words on a page, you're all full of stories, but you're not just words on a page, you're real people."

He says it with such quiet intensity that it's startling. Ninth Road is so used to seeing Shang Qinghua as slippery, untrustworthy, nervous, perhaps overworked, he's never seen him talk about something he's truly passionate about.

About something he truly cares about.

And it is obvious, in this instant, that Shang Qinghua, that Airplane Shangdi, truly cares about this world and its people. Cares about them more than he has words to properly express, even as a god or a writer.

"And I couldn't fix it as Shangdi," Shang Qinghua continues, oblivious to Ninth Road's musings, "I couldn't- I'm really powerful like that, but for something so big and delicate, it's either scrap the whole project and start over or get right down deep inside and try to fix things from there. And I just- what would be the point of making it all again, if I did just start over? It wouldn't be the same, and this world's kinda a hot mess in a lot of ways, but... that's part of why I like it so much! But I broke it, or set it up to get broken, so... I had to come down and fix it. But then I couldn't do it on my own, so... so I asked for help. And you answered. And Cucumber-bro answered. And... now we're here, and- and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't- I should have done it better right from the beginning, I should have- fuck, thank-you. You saved my world. You saved everyone. You saved me. I'm so glad you're the one who answered when I asked, thank-you."

It's... sincere. Too sincere for one with a face as thin as Ninth Road's, and praise too high for the part he played. "It was Shen Qingqiu who did as you say, not this Official."

Shangdi fucking scoffs at this. "Cucumber-bro may have done the legwork, but he wouldn't have been able to do a damn thing if you hadn't answered my call. And I know you, Ninth Road, I know you didn't actually believe you'd actually get anything for doing what you got asked! Nothing can get done if there's no room to do anything, and you gave it all up to make room. And I'm god and I'm right, so just- just be polite and say 'you're welcome' for once, because I'm an obnoxious little shit and I won't stop thanking until you get that you genuinely did something worth being thanked for! So there!"

...

...there's not a lot you can really say to a rebuttal like that, other than the world's stiffest, most awkward, "You're welcome," to which he gets a big smile, another equally big "Thank-you!", and some free gossip on what stupid things Shang Qinghua's martial siblings have done recently.

It's... kind of nice.

Not nice enough for Ninth Road to feel inclined to inform Airplane that there are technically two Luo Binghes running around in this world now, but still... nice.

(And it's not like he needs to tell him, he'll figure it out for himself.)

(Eventually.)

#great god airplane #shang qinghua #shen jiu #svsss #scum villian self saving system #fanfiction

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petermorwood · 6 months

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Word changes...

All of the following is IMO, so YMMV. :->

*****

Anyone noticed how "weaponry" is used nowadays in places where "weapons" would work just fine (and is often more correct)?

Yes, they ARE interchangeable, sort-of, but it's clunky and sounds to me either slightly journo-pompous or like a failure to remember the right word so plugging the most similar one into its place.

ETA: I checked one of my dictionaries, and while "weapons" is more modern, "weaponry" is an obsolete word which has come back into favour. I wonder why...?

*****

"Decimate" turns up all the time, usually when the correct word is "devastate".

Merriam-Webster says: "It's totally fine to use 'decimate' as a synonym for 'devastate'. This is why."

Beg to differ.

As the M-W article points out, "decimate" originally meant a Roman military punishment applied to one man in ten of a guilty unit. (Initially execution, but this had a rotten effect on unit morale, so it was reduced in severity to fatigues, extra drill or restricted rations.)

That's now considered a far too specific meaning and only linguistic pedants dig their heels in. Quite right too, and I speak here as a (bit of a) linguistic pedant...

However, it remains a useful word for more generalised incomplete destruction of living things - saying a regiment, flock, herd or population was "decimated" implies there are some survivors without quibbling over how many tenths. If totally wiped out, however, that's when words like "destroyed" or "obliterated" are more appropriate.

On the other hand something inanimate like a factory, city or region would be "devastated" - and in addition, saying someone is emotionally devastated is understandable, but saying they're emotionally decimated is peculiar.

Two words, several meanings.

It's like cutlery: a spork can replace knife, fork and spoon, but individual utensils give a lot more precision and variation of use.

*****

There are also a couple of real howlers, not just transposed words but actual errors.

One I've heard several times is using "siege" (a noun, or thing) instead of "besiege" (a verb, or action).

For reference, there's a term called noun-verbing, and the practice is quite old: "table the motion / pencil you in / butter him up / he tasks me", but all are either when there isn't already a verb-form of the word, or as a more picturesque way of saying something.

(Interesting side-note about "table the motion": in US English, it means "to postpone discussion" while in UK, CA and I think AU English, it means the complete opposite, "to begin discussion". Why there's this difference, I have no idea, but it's worth remembering as a Brit-fix when writing, also in a real-life business context.)

There IS an existing verb for the action of surrounding a castle and cutting it off from outside help, and that verb isn't "sieged". It's "besieged" or "under siege". Anywhere using "sieged" as a verb is wrong. The Firefox spellchecker in Tumblr Edit Mode is telling me it's wrong right now.

Merriam-Webster, I'm looking at you again.

*****

There's also "coronate" used as a verb. "The King was coronated at Westminster Abbey". Nope. He was CROWNED.

Coronate is an adjective (meaning crown-shaped) and was coined in in the 1600s by a botanist, as a word to describe the shape of certain plants.

The current Royal-associated usage seems to be a bastard back-formation from "coronation", because the act of putting on a crown is the verb "to crown".

This is almost identical in German, French, Italian and Spanish, with noun and verb the same. The only difference is that their verbs have, what a surprise, verb-endings (-en, -er, -re and -ar) on the noun while English does not.

Because English doesn't like to make things that easy...

"Coronated" might be people trying to sound archaic, or those who've bought into the dopey "said-is-dead" school, who perform any linguistic contortion to avoid common words, and who've been taught that repetition in a sentence - "crowned with a crown" - is BAD.

Is "coronated at a coronation" in some way better?

Guess what's got uncritical examples...

If that's M-W scholarship, I'll stick to the OED and my old but utterly reliable New Elizabethan Dictionary, thanks very much.

*****

Language is funny: sometimes funny ha-ha, sometimes funny annoying, but often just funny peculiar, because English etc. etc...

#fun with English #misused words #bad English

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demaparbat-hp · 7 months

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Hello. I wanted to say that I really like your art style, especially how you do Katara's face. That's awesome.

But every time I read the description of your AUs, it gives me the creeps. You once said you try to stay true to Katara's character, but... your AUs are like "what if I take one of her major character traits and throw it in a trash bin?".

Halfblood AU: no connection to her culture that basically defies everything Katara thinks and feels about her waterbending.

Helping the Fire Nation AU: no hope for the avatar that Katara expressed in the intro of every episode of the original show.

And lowkey less kindness. She's cautious and bitter and wants to help only Zuko.

She seems like a completely different character. Not Katara at all.

Zuko too. I doubt he'll be in the White Lotus, it's not in his character at all. He may use the help of the members, but the original ("The Desert") tells us he will not be one of them, it's just not his style.

You make zutara look shallow, like you think that Zuko and Katara as they are in the show would never work together. As a person who sees appeal in this ship I feel very uneasy seeing your interpretations.

And my god, why do you hate Hakoda so much? Every time you add anything to halfbloodAU he looks more and more disgusting. I cannot believe mister "you and your brother are my entire world" would do what you are saying. And a married man with a child cannot be so naive to think that a woman won't become pregnant after having sex with him. Hakoda would've returned and checked and tried to help.

Sorry. I wish I could enjoy your art, but you're making it so hard.

Hello, and thank you for writing. I'm glad that you enjoy my art, at least to some extent, and I'm sorry if I ever made you uncomfortable with my AUs. However, I find myself in the need of defending them.

Creating AUs is something I take seriously, and one of the core traits of an AU is that it's, inherently, a different world. I can change virtually anything, and that's okay. Haven't we all read a fic and thought, this character wouldn't react like this in canon, but went along with it anyway? Because we know this isn't supposed to be canon. These characters are living in a different context, and react to things differently.

Canon exists for a reason. An AU does, too. They're different concepts and must be treated accordingly. It's a matter of context.

But we're talking about characters, aren't we?

You've pointed out that I've changed Zuko and Hakoda, too. And you're right. I've found that people online are more... defensive of Katara when compared to other characters. And while that may not be important to this specific discussion, I do find it rather curious. It's something to think about.

Anyways, I change characters. And I've gotta confess, I'm not ashamed of it.

My Katara is still Katara, and my Zuko is still Zuko. I'm just playing with how I believe they would react in different scenarios, and with different backgrounds (that's important, too).

You mentioned that my AUs are like "what if I take one of [Katara's] major character traits and throw it in a trash bin?". And I'm sorry that they give you the creeps, truly.

But maybe I want to explore how being a product of two different cultures affects not only Katara, but also Zuko as characters. Halfblood gives me the opportunity to address these sociocultural issues through their personal experiences, and I find that kind of narrative awfully compelling.

And maybe I wanted to change one core trait of Katara's personality and see how that affected both her journey and the general plot. Hunters is a writing experiment, and it has taught me a lot about human nature. Thanks to what you so kindly call "throwing a character trait in a trash bin", I've gained a lot more respect for who Katara is in canon. If anything, I consider Hunters!Katara as a foil for Canon!Katara.

And I don't hate Hakoda. I have a lot of respect for him as a leader and a father. I think he's a great character and role model for others within the ATLA universe. Bashing characters for fun isn't really my thing. The choices I made for Hakoda in the HalfBlood AU (and Aang in Hunters) are a matter of narrative and plot building, not my opinion on his character.

Just think about how different that AU would be if Hakoda made better choices, if he didn't have a wife and a son waiting for him at the South, or if Katara's father was a random Earth Kingdom villager. About 60% of the conflict in the story would disappear. And I could build that conflict with other stuff, I admit it. I could use different plot points or make the characters do other things or give Katara One Big Happy Family.

But it would change the core themes of the story I want to tell.

It's important to me that Katara is a product of two different cultures. It's important that she has no father figure in her life. It's important that Hakoda, who is a great leader and a great man and a great husband and a great father for Sokka, made a huge mistake in his youth that has been weighting on him ever since. It's important that Sokka is suddenly faced with the realization that his father, his idolized role model, is human and has also royally fucked up.

I want to talk about these things.

But I'm able to recognize that they're heavy subjects and, really, most of us are just here for the fluff anyway. So I'm sorry if I've made anyone uncomfortable. I won't hold it against you if you don't like what I do or just ignore whatever lore I set up for my AUs.

This is fiction, this is freedom, and this is the way I express myself. We all do it differently, and that's part of the beauty.

#dema answers #zutara #atla #hunters au #halfblood au #zutara au #avatar the last airbender

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3rdsleeper · 7 months

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r/s fics rec list!

(simplified by highly specific tropes)

remus does not want sirius paying his rent and sirius is having a normal one

inflations, invitations and flirtations by mblematic

summary: The Li-Lo at Lupin's. In which plenty of people crash on Remus' air mattress after Hogwarts, and Sirius isn't jealous at all. complete - 9k

practical oddities by lurikko

summary: Regulus needs a place to stay, Remus needs to get over Sirius. It’s August 1979 and things are getting out of hands. complete - 47k (ok this one technically they do live together, but its not necessarily remus' first choice iykyk please read it)

how remus got his groove back by RealityShowJunkie

summary: Remus Lupin becomes king of the cockroaches, Fabian Prewett writes a book, Gilderoy Lockhart is a catfish, and Sirius Black realizes he's a fucking idiot. complete - 42k

the son and heir of nothing in particular by aeridionis

summary: Remus is nineteen and tired, now. And he knows that if he and Sirius were ever going to become anything—if Sirius loved Remus the way Remus loves, and will probably always love, him—it already would’ve happened. complete - 23k

frog and toad aren't friends anymore by swordfishtrombones

summary: “Some people just aren’t good flatmates. I wasn’t trying to say I liked Adrian and Mary better than you, or whatever you’re thinking.” Sirius runs a hand through his hair and squints at the streetlight, twisting his mouth like Remus is truly hopeless. “It hurt,” says Sirius, “my feelings.” complete - 10k

an episode of skam (in the sense that remus is avoidant dismissive /j /j)

the lord of desperate longing by reyghost

summary: Sirius has a lot of feelings, Remus has his own issues too, and James is a very good best friend complete - 13k

and only felt good while moving by aeridionis

summary: The summer before university, Sirius falls in love and throws a punch and then he makes a friend. complete - 17k

SHAME by wiltedtddaisy (taotu)

summary: Sirius has some figuring-things-out to do. He’s not sure if Remus helps or makes things worse. complete - 82k

angle of doubt by mblematic

summary: The Map had been going missing. Or—not missing, exactly. Sirius always knew where it was; Remus had been spiriting it away. Which, it should be said, was fine. Really. complete - 9k

a bird at your door by moongnome

summary: Of pub quizzes, old films, Chinese takeaways, broken arms, and impassioned discussions of literature: Remus is confusing, and Sirius is just trying to figure him out. complete - 31k

if you're the bassist, and i'm the lead singer, then who’s flying this plane?

the cadence of part-time poets by motswolo

summary: After losing his mother at age eleven, Remus has spent the better part of the last four years bouncing from school to school or else running around London and pretending as though he wasn't the kind of well-bred boy his father brought him up to be. Now, with his chances all run out, Remus is sent to Hawkings Independent School as a last-ditch effort to clean up his act. There he meets the very people who will set up the rest of his life, and is forced to confront the pieces of himself he'd long thought had been lost. complete - 979k

dress up in you by MsKingBean89

summary: Sirius attends a charity rock gig organised by his best friend's girlfriend, and the tall, quiet bassist catches his eye... complete - 88k (ok sirius is not in a band in this one but please just go with it)

sirius black & the six by BellaBabe

summary: Remus shrugged. “Not much for the spotlight.” “Right,” Sirius drawled. “I bet you’re also not much for the rock ‘n roll perks.” Remus tensed, sparing Sirius a scathing glance. “I’m sober now.” Sirius quirked a brow in disbelief. complete - 79k

saturday nights and sunday mornings by SoupyGeorge

summary: A story about music and family, the price of fame and finding love somewhere completely unexpected. (its an arctic monkeys au) complete - 121k

sirius black learns the meaning of true love. remus lupin does too but in a much more put together and chill way

a series of sketches done in black ink by musntgetmy

summary: Sirius had always imagined the aftermath of falling in love would mean lightness, and an escape from all the horrors of his childhood. But the past never leaves, and even love can't stop bad memories from resurfacing. complete - 57k

dissonance by renaissance

summary: Remus searches for solace in all the likely places, but somehow he keeps coming back to Sirius Black. Featuring sad acoustic indie, spearmint gum, and irresponsible usage of social media. complete - 4k

the time when you were mine by renaissance

summary: the walk from Grimmauld Place to Parliament Hill is just under an hour, but it's easier going at four in the morning complete - 9k

as red as hearts and autumn by Rosie_Rues

summary: it's the autumn of sixth year, theres a flu epidemic at Hogwarts, and the Blacks want their heir back. complete - 43k

#fic recs #do people still make these? wtv #wolfstar fic rec #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #hp fic rec #marauders

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lookingforafalseprophet · 3 months

Text

For a Moment (I Knew Cosmic Love)

A Jegulus au in the setting of Call Me By Your Name, a book by Andre Aciman, and an adapted movie by Luca Guadagnino.

Synopsis:

It's 1983 and professor Alphard Black has chosen James as his mentee for the summer, invited to stay at the Black family chateau in the south of France. It will be three months of dig-sights, thesis-writing, and academic discussions. Little does James know, it would also be 3 months of swimming, eating the best food he'd ever taste, falling in love, partying, and getting his heart broken. That's if Alphard's nephews have anything to say about it, at least.

Read Chapter 1: Staring at the Sky below the cut.

Chapter 1: Staring at the Sky

James arrived on a hot day in mid-June, one of the sort where you could feel the sun shining onto your skin and soaking in, all the way to the soul. The days previous had been nice, but this one held a particular precious and dream-like quality to it. Even when experiencing it for the first time, it felt like you were living through a day that you knew you’d never forget. Everybody felt it, even the mean old cat, Pepper, stood guard at one of the towering front windows. It was like she was waiting.

The chateau was warm. The early summer air breezed through the halls through open windows and the sun bathed every room in the southern French countryside sunshine. Alphard was determined to make spaces as cozy as they were chic and effortless. He’d lived in this house since the early 60’s, and over the years had collected the most exquisite antique furniture to fill every room. He’d told them all, when they were children, that what interested him more than any visual aesthetics was the energy that came off of his things. He made them crouch and put their ear up to the newly acquired couches, chairs, and tables to tell them what they felt. Regulus, even at that age, didn’t have much as far as an imagination. He usually just complained about the smell of old people and dust. Sirius grinned widely and jumped up and down when he claimed to feel true love radiating off of the new chess table. Alphard had been proud.

“Very good, Sirius. This table belonged to very, very special people. I think you’re right about true love.”

The day James arrived found Regulus sat, bored, on the reading nook across from the chess table. He had his knees folded up to his chest, crossing his arms in front of them, and scowled at it. Sensing an object and any feelings associated with it was complete hogwash, there was no proof, nothing that indicated it was real or possible. It perplexed him how Sirius always seemed to be right. Maybe Alphard was lying. Whatever the case was, it never failed to make Regulus peeved when he thought about it too hard.

So he sat and eventually tried to read. He was trying not to get anxious. He typically hated Alphard’s students. Nine times out of ten they were stuck up, know-it-all Brits with no respect for a precedent. They always ruined plans, threw off the house dynamics, talked too loudly; you name it. Sirius loved having them, but that was mostly due to the fact that it was easier to get into trouble with a guest around. Alphard was busy with mentor duties, and even when he did catch Sirius trouble-making, he was always made softer and more lenient by his enthrallment in his summer work. It had him in jollier than average moods. Sirius always liked to meet new people, too, and sometimes he even befriended the students. This one student, Peter, who’d spent summer there a couple years back, was more reserved than usual. Sirius found him hilarious. He’d really brought Peter out of his shell over the months, bringing him around to see the sights and party whenever his studies allowed it. That year had been even more unbearable than usual for Regulus. He’d never liked Peter and he suspects Peter never liked him.

He was reading when he heard a car pull into the driveway and three doors being swung shut. Sirius’s voice rang out muffled, growing louder as they approached the front door.

“Our home has two small and angry guardians. They both hate strangers, are always watching, and always judging you. Try not to mind them, and let them approach you first!” Sirius clapped James on the back, shuffling behind him to enter the house first. Regulus rolled his eyes, shutting his book and setting it down. He didn’t have the energy to pretend to care about meeting the new student. He left his book behind and escaped up the stairs.

“I thought you only had one cat, Professor.” James questioned Alphard as he walked in, a duffle bag in each hand.

“Yes,” Alphard sighs, exasperated. “Sirius is joking. He refers to Pepper, and my other nephew, Regulus.” Alphard smiled despite himself. James gave a small laugh. He walked through the entry room to a sitting room where Sirius had unceremoniously flopped on his back onto a reading nook built into one of the walls.

Sirius Black had midnight black hair and stark gray eyes. He had girlish looks, with long curled eyelashes, shoulder-length hair, and a smaller frame. He didn’t look anything like a girl, however, his broad shoulders making way for muscle that was neither too much or too little. His jawline cut in a handsome way. James was not above admitting he was an attractive man. More so, even, was his larger-than-life personality that was quick to smile and even quicker to a joke. He had a French type of looseness to his body, slinging his arms around James, and kissing both of his cheeks to say hello when they’d first met. James wished that people were as affectionate back home in England. He loved it. Sirius, on the drive to the chateau, gave him a rundown of all the fun things to do around the grounds as well as in town, which was just a 20 minute bike ride away. Sirius bragged that on his motorbike, he could get there in five minutes.

In the car they had talked about France, which before now James had only ever been to once, with his parents years and years ago. Sirius raved about the cities he loved and hated, the must-see locations, and his favorite patisserie in all of the country (he always got the dulce de leche croissant). They talked about England, too. Sirius shared that he’d studied abroad there from 16 to 18, and loved it. He still had loads of friends there that he wrote to. James told Sirius about his friends from home, and how one of them lived in France part-time that he’d like to see sometime this summer. Sirius insisted he tag-along with James to meet them, and he happily agreed.

It was easy with Sirius. They got on swimmingly. Alphard had let them get on for most of the drive while he drove the car, staying quiet except to laugh when James or Sirius said something especially funny. Sirius made James sad that he never had a brother growing up, because surely it felt a bit like this. The longer they talked, the more his fondness grew for Sirius Black.

(Secretly, Alphard let himself hope that James might keep Sirius out of trouble. It was a pipe dream.)

“Ouch,” Sirius struggled, pulling something out from underneath him. “Regulus and his bloody books, I swear, they trail behind him like crumbs. You could forget he’s around sometimes if he didn’t leave these everywhere he goes. Where is that kid, anyways?” He called out that last bit to Alphard, who was standing in the doorway behind James.

“He’s around, I'm sure. Leave his book there, you know he’ll come back looking for it once we clear out.” Alphard looked out the window to the picturesque day.

“Like a cat.” James commented, amused.

“Like a cat.” Sirius echoed, and James might have thought Sirius was making fun of his brother, but there was a sort of undertone of endearment in his voice that made James smile.

He breathed in the grand house–no, chateau–and looked around at all of the pictures and decor. A vast amount was paintings, but a few family photos were scattered around in old frames. The photos showed the children, assumingly Sirius and his brother, Regulus, at no age younger than 11 or so. They were all taken there at the chateau. The one exception James could see was beside the window and showed the three of them at a beach, Sirius caught in a sprint in the background running toward the camera smiling, and Regulus closer to the camera giving a much smaller smile. They looked to be in their early teenage years. James liked how in that one it felt like you were there with them.

James crossed the room, picking up the book Sirius had placed to the side where it didn’t inhibit his comfortable sprawl over the cushions. The book was a collection of Mme. D’Aulnoy’s fairy tales, and a dogear marked a story towards the end of the book. James read the title, L'Oranger et l’Abeille. He personally loved Perrault, who he fancied to think of as Mme. D'Aulnoy’s counterpart. Some saw them as opposing forces. Different, but equally passionate about the same matters. They loved their fairy tales in different ways. Each of their works bloomed even more beautifully for it.

James found himself excited to meet this person.

Regulus, he tested in his head. It was an odd name, though perhaps not odder than Sirius. James had never really taken to astronomy; he was much too busy learning about everything that had, did, would, and could happen on Earth.

“He won’t miss lunch. You’ll meet him then.” Sirius assured him, popping off of the cushions to his feet.

“Very well, then. Where should I put my bags?” James held up his duffle bags with a grin, excited to see more of the house. From here, he could see a magnificent staircase with a gilded bannister and tiled fronts to each stair. It reminded him of Spanish tiling, but the colors and style was distinctively nothing he had seen before. He made a mental note to ask the professor about them later.

“Follow me, guest of honor!” Sirius clapped his hands together, and led the way to the tiled stairs.

The second story had a long hallway with doors lining each side. The art was magnificent. Romantic oil portraits, marble busts, and small artifacts that were more than likely priceless lined the walls and hall tables. One of the doors that Sirius seemed to be heading toward opened slightly, then after a moment of being open, shut again with a decisive thunk.

“Reg! Nope, I know you’re there. Come out here.” Sirius called after him, snapping James out of his all-consuming awe of the artworks.

“Je ne vais pas bien, laissez-moi tranquille.” A mellow voice called back, deadpan. It was the kind of voice that showcased the true beauty of the French language.

“I’m sorry you aren’t feeling good, Reg. Maybe some good ol’ social interaction will perk you up.” Sirius replied, rolling his eyes to James.

“It’s alright, Sirius, I wouldn’t want to put anybody out. I’ll meet him at Lunch.” James offered. Regulus didn’t respond. Sirius huffed.

“Yes, yes, well you better be packing up in there. We’re coming in.” Sirius waited for the shuffle of his brother’s feet. A door shut quietly from inside the room. Sirius then pushed open the door, revealing a modest sized bedroom. It was cozy and lived in, which James was delighted by. The bed was made perfectly, corners tucked in tight and blanket methodically folded. The pillows looked so fluffy…

Before James could even think to appear grateful and polite, the hours of travel set in and he collapsed onto the bed after dropping the duffle bags at the foot of the bed. His eyes felt so heavy, lulling him to give into sleep.

“Seems about right. You were a good sport for staying awake for the drive here, anyways,” Sirius laughed. “Lunch is in two hours. Regulus is one room over. You’ll have to share a bathroom, sorry. This is his room, usually, but it’s yours for the summer.” He explained.

“Thank you, Sirius. It’s all perfect. This bed is heaven, truly.” James turned his head lazily to look at him as he spoke.

“Yes, my brother’s old full mattress is practically fit for royalty.” Sirius grinned, leaving after flicking the lights off.

James slept hard.

He only woke to the sound of somebody in the room and a door creaking shut. James shifted to regard them. His eyesight was shit, and he fumbled for the glasses that had been scattered carelessly somewhere on the bed. When he found them, Regulus Black came into focus. They stared at each other for a beat.

James studied him like he studied art. The first thing that caught James was Regulus’s nose. He was looking at him at a three quarter angle where James couldn’t help but admire it, grecian, with a small bony bump halfway down. It harmonized with the rest of his face like a beautiful sonata. Regulus had (what he was now realizing was signature for the Black family) gray eyes. Where Sirius's were sharp siren-like, Regulus instead had big and bright eyes that started right back at James. He looked wide awake despite the smoking of purplish-red around his eyelids; it was perfectly human of him. It made his eyes stand out especially so. He had freckles; not a million dotted wash of them, but instead small, dark ones that looked closer to paint splatters across his face and arms.

Where Regulus lacked bulk he made up for in a toned, sleek physique. He was wearing a white button up with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. There was no undershirt, and with the top couple of buttons undone, James could see a bit of his lightly freckled bare chest. Regulus didn’t feel quite real.

“Hello. I’m James,” James started, breaking the heavy silence in the darkened room. “Je m’appelle James.” He added, suddenly paranoid that Regulus didn’t speak English and he’d just assumed. Regulus seemed to be thinking.

“This is my only way out.” Regulus said flatly, in English. James mentally sighed in relief. His French was okay at best. Regulus’s English was great. He had the tinges of a lilting French accent, but only noticeable if you—like James—clung onto words like they were magic. It was hard not to when studying phonetics and language.

“What do you mean?” James looked confused.

“The guest room I'm staying in is only accessible through your room. I’ll have to walk through this one to get in and out.” He said. Without the muffle of a door, James could hear the quality of his voice much better. It had a certain smooth timbre to it, where you could tell he’d have a good singing voice without having to hear him sing.

“Right, yes. This is your room, right? It’s a great room.” James nodded in understanding, adjusting himself to sit up and face him properly.

“Yes.” Regulus said shortly.

“I like what you’ve done with the space.” James looked at the wall behind Regulus. It had a mural of a lake scene.

The mural was a credit to whoever had painted it, with decisive brush strokes and colors that danced together. The other walls were a powder blue, but here in the dark you wouldn’t be able to tell they weren’t white. The furniture had the same antique nature as the rest of the house did. There were multiple quilted throw blankets, one folded over the end of the bed, and another two folded tidily and sitting on a shelf below the bedside table. There was a chair in the corner with some books piled on top that looked like it could be a hundred years old. The desk, tucked up next to the bed in the far corner, was neatly organized, books lining the back and a pen sitting perfectly next to a blank piece of staff paper. The lamp was gilded with a gold gooseneck that let you bend it around to get it shining at whatever angle you wished. You’d only need to use the light in the evening, though, because there was a huge window beside the desk that, had the curtains not been drawn, light would be pouring into right about now. It looked like a nice place to work.

“I spend a lot of time here,” Regulus replied, then changed the subject. “Lunch is ready.”

“Um– I’m still exhausted, do you mind covering for me with your uncle?” James smiled, hoping he wasn’t coming off terribly arrogant as his whole body begged to lay back down. Regulus did not smile back.

“Whatever.” Regulus said, leaving the room. James flopped back in the bed, actually getting far enough to get under the blankets this time.

“Later!” James called after Regulus. He gave James a look before slipping through the door, shutting it with a small click.

He got a very overdue night of sleep, deep and dreamless.

Regulus had no opinion of James. He seemed fine. It could be worse. It had been worse before. They had stared at each other for a good ten seconds up in Regulus’s room. He liked somebody who could live in silence, and didn’t jump to fill it. James immediately countered the points gained there, though, by skipping lunch. Regulus found that exceptionally rude. It was his welcoming meal. Kreacher had prepared for it. Instead, himself, Sirius, and Uncle Alphard ate their lunch together like normal. So, really, Regulus didn’t mind at all. Maybe James would stick entirely to himself and not bother his familiar routine with his family, their carefully crafted balance they’ve built over the years.

“So… James?” Sirius started, wiggling his eyebrows.

“He’s a nice boy. Smart as they make them, too. He’s the first double major I've invited.” Alphard said, taking a sandwich from the tray at the center.

“Him and I are going to have loads and loads of fun this summer, I reckon.” Sirius bounced his leg excitedly under the table, peeling an orange. Alphard scowled at Sirius, which made him throw his hands up in surrender. Once Sirius looked away, Regulus caught his uncle smiling to himself.

“I met him. Upstairs, on my way down.” Regulus said, nonchalant. Sirius’s leaned forward in interest.

“What’d you think, Reg?”

“Don’t call me Reg, and I'll tell you,” He shot back bitterly. Sirius didn’t move, still waiting for him to go on and give his first impression. No matter how much venom he loaded his words with, Sirius never backed off. It was their dynamic. Regulus rolled his eyes. “I don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know? Alphard, do you hear him? I thought Reggie here knew everything!” Sirius acted like he could faint from shock, the sarcastic bastard. Regulus threw a peel of his own orange he was working on at Sirius’s face. Sirius tried to dodge, but it hit him on the cheek and he looked back at his brother smiling.

“Shut up, Sirius. I do. I’ve just barely spoken to him, yet, is all. He was still tired.” Regulus said.

“It was a long day of travel for him. He’d come from New York.” Alphard commented.

“New York? God, the music scene there is so cool. Did you know–” Sirius started going on about venues and indie bands, then, something Regulus had heard about a hundred times. He could recite all of the facts right back to Sirius at this point. Instead, Regulus thought about James. This summer was going to be interesting.

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rockinlibrarian · 1 month

Text

Post-Umbrella Academy S4 Reaction Part One: Reacting More to the Fandom than the Show (only vaguely spoilery)

I would like to state for the record that I enjoyed The Umbrella Academy Season Four. I had plenty of issues— things that weren’t to my taste, abandoned or neglected plot or character threads, plot contrivances and wasted opportunities— and I wasn’t satisfied with the ending AT ALL (it COULD have worked if done…completely differently?)—but I enjoyed myself, minus the downer at the very end (and I mean VERY end, I was hoping for more post-credit redemption than we got, and that could’ve fixed it for me). It’s like that post I reblogged this morning goes— there’s enjoyment, there’s in-universe sense, and there’s art-of-storytelling sense, and they can all stand separately.

I’d love to chew over the stupid bits and gush over the brilliant bits, but it’s kind of hard right now, because so much of the reactions online are not, well, objectively balanced discussions? People’s issues erased any of the enjoyment, and now the whole thing is trash and I think we all agree this never happened.

I’m not writing this post to call anyone out for that. All our reactions are valid. It just feels like the angry voices drown out the other voices, and it’s made me uncomfortable, and that is ALSO a valid reaction to have, so I just want to put my voice out there, too.

The weird thing about me and The Umbrella Academy is that this is the first fandom where I’ve ever been more invested in fanworks of it than in the original show (and in the comics, not at all. Though I still want to see Viktor and Diego start a punk band). So I think that’s why I’m not Ragey. I wouldn’t say I COMPLETELY didn’t care what happened in the show, but I know that there’s a thousand other AUs of it out there ALREADY. So I honestly went into it almost as if reading a fic of it. In fics there are inevitably interpretations I don’t agree with, ships I don’t care for, things I would have done differently, but the writer loves the same characters as me so let’s see where they go.

And then I leave a comment about all the positives. “Oh, I love what you’ve done with Viktor!” (I won’t MENTION that I think you should have let him get back into music and spend a LOT more time with Five, because it’s not my story, and hey, you have done some LOVELY, thoughtful things with one of the characters that is dearest to me so let me tell you that in this comment!) “I’m REALLY enjoying your Allison-and-Klaus partnership, we don’t see enough of that but it’s so obvious in retrospect that they should be friends. They probably bonded over fashion as children when Viktor was like ‘Sorry Allison you know I REALLY DO want to be friends with you but I JUST DON’T GET IT’.” (I am thinking about how you never really resolved the huge emotional thread between Allison and Viktor in your last chapter, but that’s not what we’re talking about here). “This is admittedly not my ship, but you’ve successfully captured my own beliefs about HOW this character would behave in this situation” (shouting out to @stephsageek for that one, who did it, and did it well, before canon even thought to attempt to. ;) ) I could write lots more in my theoretical Comment on “Season Four of the Umbrella Academy” on AO3, but I don’t want to be too spoilery in this post and I’m just being metaphorical.

Honestly, I’m more upset now after a day of discourse than I was about the ending, and I think it’s because I’m afraid of people rage-abandoning the fandom. Because Legion, the show that started me on Seriously Writing Fanfic, was a mess after season 1. I personally didn’t enjoy MOST of season 2, but I DID enjoy season 3 even though so much of it made no sense, and I can rant about it (Legion did a variation on the same terrible ending as TUA, actually! I have to say that the emotional beats were handled better, but the plot itself was way way stupider). But I didn’t start writing fic until after the dreaded (but not without redeeming qualities) season 2, when quite a lot of people had given up on the show. I’ve written fix-its, mostly ones that embellish on the canon of the later seasons, fixing it without actually throwing it away. I’ve been playing in the whole sandbox for six years now, and “Magic Man of Oz” uses like every grain of sand in it, and it’s my favorite fic I’ve ever written, and I am genuinely sad about all the people who rage-quit that show so will never read it. I am mostly sad that the person who got me on AO3 to begin with abandoned the Legion fandom the moment they finished their epic How Season Two Should Have Ended fic (or before— pretty sure the last few chapters were written with gritted teeth determination to just be Done with the whole thing) and so THEY never read “Magic Man of Oz.” And they were my biggest cheerleader when I started posting fanfic! Honestly, is this whole paragraph just me freaking out about TUA fandom just because not enough people read a fic of mine from a different fandom that was fairly cult to begin with? It might be. Sorry. I apparently have issues?

(That first sentence is really the thesis statement of this post now. The moment I wrote it, I reread it and said, "Oh. THAT'S what's happening with me, isn't it?" My 11th grade research writing teacher is yelling at me in my head to move the dang thesis statement to earlier in this essay, but too bad, this is Tumblr).

I can’t help comparing Legion and TUA, not least because the latter only got bumped up my watch list by someone describing it as “Legion-Lite”— and it really is, in so many ways! But they’re also my top two most-written-for fandoms, and I’ve been toying with a crossover or two— which I feel even more compelled to write now, because it’s post-canon for both shows (even though both shows claim there IS no post-canon— I have found the way!) And it honestly helped ME emotionally to accept the end of TUA when I could immediately say, “OH, well actually, that flows right INTO how I was already going to start working-title A Legion of Umbrellas!” I originally started this paragraph in parenthesis because it seemed like an aside, but it’s really not, because all I’m saying is fanfic flows eternal! and so forth.

So, hi, out there. Just letting out my feelings and hoping someone out there feels the same way (maybe not about Legion— I keep TRYING, but can’t find any takers), and I may still write a more detailed and spoilery reaction post to the show ITSELF, but I had to get this off my chest first.

#the umbrella academy #fandom #fandom culture #me feeling weird in virtual public

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idontplaytrack · 4 months

Note

can you write an aj fic, college au, when r bring her home for the holidays but her parents arent approving of it…and the end can be like r’s cousins or siblings taking r and aj out to a gay bar or something, a mostly happy ending

It’s Not Christmas Without You

AJ Campos x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, homophobia, quarrelling, underage drinking mentions, sexual assault mentions

In which reader’s parents do not approve of their relationship so the siblings and cousins make their holidays better by taking them out instead

“So they know I’m coming?”

“Yeah, I told them I was bringing my partner home.”

“They probably think I’m a guy.”

“Yeah, but screw it. If they kick me out, we still have a place to go, baby.” You told her, “We’ll be fine.”

And to be completely honest, you and AJ had discussed this. This visit back home for the holidays was out of courtesy. No matter how they reacted, you’d still be telling them that you’d be moving out. But if they didn’t approve, you’d never be coming home again, ever. You weren’t going to give your parents the upper hand and satisfaction of kicking you out. Never.

Your sister was picking you and AJ up from the airport. And for a little bit of a background on your family, you were the youngest of three. Your older brother, Theo and older sister Patricia were well into their twenties, both married. Patricia had two children— your darling niece and nephew, Aurora and Austin. As for Theo, he’d just gotten hitched on halloween with his boyfriend. That’d be Robin. Wanna make a guess which one of your siblings had a better relationship with your parents?

Patricia did. They were only okay with Theo having a boyfriend (at the time) because he was bi. So to them, that meant that he’d still be able to start a family if he wanted. Boy, did Theo shut them down so quickly. But they were still in denial. So far, Theo was the only one in your family that you were out to. You figured that only he truly understood your fear. But in a matter of minutes, Patricia would know as well.

“y/n!”

Immediately, you spotted Patricia thanks to her distinctive voice over buzzing chatter of the swarm of people in the arrival hall. You rushed up to her, still holding onto AJ’s hand. “Hi, Trishy.” You hugged her back.

“Let me guess, AJ?”

“That’s me.” AJ chuckles lightly, “Were you expecting a guy too?”

“Not exactly.” Your sister admits, “Let me help you with your bag.”

“Explain.” You gasped, looking at her with wide eyes.

“I just don’t really care who you’re dating unless they treat you right. I wasn’t expecting anybody specific.”

“Oh.” You nodded, “Thanks?”

“Let’s go, Theo’s waiting in the car. And your precious niece and nephew are waiting at home.”

Getting into your sister’s car, you sat in the middle seat between AJ and Theo. “Good to finally meet ya and put a face to your name.” Theo commented, “She’s very secretive, this one.”

AJ chuckles. “She had her reasons, which I get. But I have nothing to hide, ask me whatever you want.”

“Oh, no, no.” Theo laughed similarly, “I trust you. She’s happy, she’s safe, she’s clearly so loved by you. I’m not the least bit worried.”

“I am,” You stared at him, “Mom and Dad are one hundred percent expecting AJ to be a guy,”

“Well…she can look the part.” Theo jokes. AJ snorted, “We’ll just leave the bags in your car because we’re almost certain they’ll want her outta there. We’re planning to leave either way. I’m not bi, so they will definitely go off on me.”

“Honey.” Patricia turned her head to look over her shoulder, “We got you. We get it— courtesy visit. Because they’ve been asking and asking, and asking. You’d think after two years of you not coming home, they’d at least start to get the hint, noooo, they’ve been painfully oblivious.”

————

“We’re home.” Theo announces, letting out an inevitable sigh. Aurora and Austin dropped their toys and ran over first, tackling you with a hug. AJ? She stood right behind you. “Hi, auntieeeee.” They squealed. “Hey, goofballs. Wow you guys are so tall.”

They giggle happily. “I’m taller.” Aurora grins.

“Sure are, sweetie.” You chuckle, ruffling with her hair.

“Who is this?” The seven year old girl asked.

“I’m AJ,” She smiled.

“You’re really pretty.” Aurora says. “Are you y/n’s friend?”

“Uh, girlfriend.” You answered honestly.

“Oh. Hello, AJ!” The kid shrugged, pulling Austin away to go play again.

And then, your parents. “Girlfriend, Rory, don’t be silly. I’m sure your aunt’s just kidding.”

“Kidding for what?” You asked, almost a little too harshly.

Your mother’s mouth hung open, “You…watch your mouth.”

“Watch my mouth?” You wanted to scoff so badly, “I’ve graduated from college this year. I don’t need to be treated like a child.”

“This is AJ?” Your dad chimed in.

“Oh, yeah. This is AJ and she’s great.” Theo spoke on your behalf, sensing your anger building up to a close peak.

“So are you bisexual too, like Theo?”

“No, Mom.” You stated, “I’m a lesbian,”

“Oh, God. What have I done?”

You were so ready to leave. It was clear AJ was thinking the same thing. “Nothing. You have done nothing. I have always been this way— nothing has changed and nothing needs to change. Why does it matter to you that I’m in love with a woman?”

“Mommy, why are you all mad at auntie? She didn’t do anything wrong.” Aurora appeared again. Shit, you’d forgotten in the moment that the kids were around. You should’ve just turned and left with AJ.

“Baby, come over here. Let’s get back to our movie, hm?” Ezra, her dad, came up to the foyer soon enough.

“No, gramma’s mad at auntie y/n. That’s not nice of her.”

“I’m gonna go, baby. But I’m okay, I promise.”

“Aw.” The kid sulked. “Whyyy.”

“Aurora, they need to talk— let’s let them finish talking first, okay?”

“Ezra, there’s no use talking to them. They’re so stuck in their narrow minds that only what they think, is correct. We’re leaving after we hand the gifts over to the kids.”

“Okay, dinner’s canceled.” Your mom announces.

“Way ahead of you.” Patricia looks up from her phone. “This family hasn’t felt like a family in years. It’s ridiculous that a child knows better than you two do. Ezra, let’s go. We’re moving the dinner to ours— I’ve already texted the rest of them. You two can stuff yourselves for all I care. y/n’s being very kind to come back here when she’s made it pretty clear she doesn’t want to be back here several years ago.”

Not wanting to escalate the situation, all of you left. You sat in Theo’s car with AJ. While Patricia, Ezra and the kids were in their own. With that, the bunch of you were on your way to Patricia and Ezra’s house. “y/n, AJ. The guesthouse is all yours. Make yourselves at home.” Ezra told you both while Patricia got the kids settled and freshened up.

“Wow, thanks.” You replied, then made your way over to the guesthouse through the backyard.

“Rest of the family’s coming by at 8. We have a few hours, so you guys just…chill.” Patricia eventually poked her head into the front doorway of the guesthouse. You hear Aurora and Austin playing in the pool, squealing.

“Well, can we help any way at all?”

“AJ, relax.” Patricia laughs, “I got this, you two just do whatever you want. Let me worry about the cooking.”

“You wanna go for a swim, then?” You glanced at AJ to ask.

“Sure.” AJ beamed, “Let’s do it.”

The moment you and AJ got inside the pool, Austin sprayed you with the water gun, then AJ became the target. Eventually, it became a little bit of a fight. You let the kids win, just because. They’re kids. It was just a game, everyone had fun. After an hour or so, Aurora and Austin wanted to get back inside so Ezra took them, leaving you and AJ alone.

“Are you okay?” AJ asks, pushing herself up to sit down on the edge of the pool.

“What? Yeah, I am.”

“No, I mean, really.” AJ continues.

“Babe, come on. It’s Christmas eve— I don’t want to talk about it.”

She looks at you, you look at her. AJ wasn’t going to give it up. “I don’t wanna talk about it here.” You stood up and led her back into the guesthouse.

“Me and my parents were very close. Until— okay, remember in high school, junior year? After my volleyball team won a big game.”

“Yeah.” She nods, sitting right before you, “Right before summer.”

“That night, we all got wasted at the hotel and some guy ended up…I dunno. Touching me while I was pretty much blacked out. I woke up to him hovering over me, kissing my neck and just— it was horrifying to have that be the first thing I saw and felt after getting sober from the drinking.”

AJ’s facial expression was indistinguishable, but you continue. “I didn’t known who to tell, so I ended up telling my Mom. Who, told my Dad without my permission. Then, the police showed up at the door, it was a whole mess that week. I know who did it— I always have. The memory started coming back and I knew that guy. But he got away with it. He pleaded not guilty, went to trial. I lost. My parents blamed me for drinking and getting myself into trouble. Since then, everything just kinda spiralled. At the time, Theo and Trish were the only two people in my corner. No one else knew what happened. They’re really just unrelated matters but since that happened, they changed. My parents simply hated me, it’s like they’re disgusted by me. But the drifting apart was pretty gradual so I got used to it. I just hate that they’re that way towards me even though I look at it from their point of view and I get it. But it’s been weighing on my mind, and you deserve to know.”

“Was that why you lived with them senior year?”

“Oh, yeah. Theo already started working and Trish was a senior in college. With both their incomes, they took me out of our parents’ home and let me live with them.” You explained, “It was so much more complicated in my head, but now that that’s out of the way…I just need a few days to forget about that. Work through that, you know? It’s not use being all upset about it now. I don’t want to be caring so much about them that I let them affect my mood when clearly, they couldn’t care less about me.”

“That is just…terrible of them to practically wash their hands off you.” AJ scoffs.

“Baby, don’t get yourself all angry over those two. There’s no point. Let’s just focus on ourselves and those that actually do care.”

“You’re right.” She smooches you on the cheek. “You’ve come a long way and done a lot of work. I’m very proud of you for that. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that. It’s not an easy thing at all to be sharing.”

You cracked a smile. “Thanks, baby.”

————

Seeing some of your family members clicking with AJ so well, so quickly, it seriously made you so happy— the relief you felt was impeccable. “AJ, will you read me a bedtime story?” Aurora comes running up to AJ— and you.

“Sweetie, they’re watching a movie—”

“It’s alright, Trish.” You assured.

You and AJ shared a look before she smiled and agreed. “Yay!” Aurora exclaimed and dragged the two of you by the hand upstairs to her bedroom.

“Good night, sweetie!” Patricia laughs, as did Ezra.

“Night, Mommy. Night, Daddy!”

A good twenty minutes later, Aurora reluctantly agreed to finally sleep. You walked back downstairs with AJ and were met with Theo immediately suggesting that the few of you should go out for the night. “Come on. We’ve been keeping it PG for the whole evening. Let’s go party it up.” Theo laughs.

“Hey, don’t need to look at me. You guys are adults. No curfew over here.” Patricia bit back a laugh, “Go. Have fun.”

“Alright, alright.” You gave in. Theo cheered quietly, gesturing for his husband Dylan to join you all and leave the house.

The destination? A gay bar. Ever since that night in high school, you were very careful around alcohol. So much so that you flat out didn’t drink alcohol in chaotic settings like these. Not all of them knew why, but they didn’t force you— you had two glasses and that was it.

“Which one of you people wants to take the mic tonight, party people?”

“Let’s go do that. Let’s sing.” You grabbed AJ by the arm, causing her to look at you, laughing.

“Sure.” AJ giggles, looking over to the guys.

“y/n, you know I cannot sing.” Your brother pointed at you, “Dylan— you can.”

“Hell yeah.” Dylan agrees and hopped off the stool, heading for the stage with you and AJ.

“Alright, alright! Here we go. First daring ones of the evening. Dylan, AJ and y/n singing ‘It’s Not Christmas Without You’, everyone!”

“So if you feel it comin'

On this special day

Just trust your heart

'Cause I can't wait to hear you say

That it's Christmas

And the start of something new

Well, it's Christmas

And I hope you'll feel it too

Everyone together, sing

Silver bells and golden rings

But all of it means nothing

Without you

No, no no

It's not Christmas (Christmas)

Without you, you, you

It's not Christmas

Without you, you, you

It's not Christmas

Without you, you, you

It's not Christmas without you”

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @reneeswif3 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

#auli’i cravalho #aj campos #aj campos x reader #crush(2022)#hulu crush #lgbtqia #queer #wlw #reader insert #x reader #female reader #reader imagine #fanfiction #alternative universe

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fieldsofbats · 1 year

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simon riley x waitstaff! reader : getting coffee

okie dokie, the second part of the waitstaff au bc i like it when authors have a reoccurring au and i write what i like to see from others. i am also open to exploring other peoples au’s and discussing ideas. i don’t like the idea of having requests because i don’t wanna put that pressure on myself but i want to work with people and explore lots of ideas i see from people. tl;dr, send me ur ideas but not requests.

part one, part two

ghost would take the longest to ask you out, like he is a confident man (have u heard his lines???) and isn’t afraid of confrontation or anything, just doesn’t like the idea of potentially ruining anything you guys have going because he has ~feelings~

would make sure to do it either after your shift or when it is very quiet and you are the only floor staff on, wants it to be the two of you in an open and casual environment

your comfort and feelings are of the utmost importance to him always thinking: “are they okay with his?” “i’m not over stepping?” “this is okay, right?”

personally strikes me as someone who needs verbal confirmation of others feelings.

he can read a battlefield no problems, can predict movements from a mile away. your feelings??? nah, dude has no clue and needs verbal reassurance, not that he would ask for it but is amazed when you figure that out yourself. ‘fuck they are literally made for me.’

i don’t think he could actually say the words ‘let’s go on a date’, strikes me as a ‘when r u free? Let’s do this…’ kinda person.

would have the whole thing planned out though, has prepared himself for every possible response and outcome. thinks of it as a sort of mission.

i like the idea that he did get advice from price (daddy)

it wouldn’t be the actual task of asking you out that freaks him a bit, but the uncontrollable factor of your response.

he can’t plan for that so is anxious about what you might say or think, hence the over planning and the private obsessiveness.

BUT YOU SAID YES, “yeah, I finish my shift at 4, we could get a coffee or snack if you want?” YES WE CAN GET COFFEE “sounds good.” SOUNDS AMAZING.

waits out the front of the restaurant for you, has been waiting since 3.

figuring out who he should wait, wants to appear casual but wants you to think he is cool. leaning on his bike? no, a bit asshole-y. casually smoking? no, you might not like that. just standing? why does it fuckin’ matter?

oh shit here they come, fuck they look so nice in the sun light.

you smile that sweet smile of yours to him and his knees buckle as he turns to face you fully. he grips the door jam so he doesn’t fall in front of you. He’s already fucked it.

“where were you thinking?” you asked him, completely ignoring his near face plant into the pavement.

he directs you over to a close by coffee shop, you’ve been there before so wave politely to the staff and point to the best seats in the shop. he nods and follows to the back, a small semi-private nook at the back.

he thinks it went well, he tried to avoid the topic of his work and asked you as many questions as possible. but it wasn’t to the point you were talking the entire time.

he could feel himself blushing under his mask, the slightly larger surgical style mask reaching just under his eyes. He was thankful you didn’t push him to take the mask off or tell you his real name.

you understood that military people have a lot they can’t share, particularly someone in SAS. those folks are intense and have extremely private lives.

one coffee turned into two, a few biscuits turned into soup for dinner. then into being asked to leave by the owner.

“oh sorry matt. thanks for putting up with us.” you laughed and began to pack up to leave. ghost, ever the gentleman, paid and you thanked him.

“next one is on me.” NEXT ONE?! dudes heart near leaves his body and race through the street at illegal speeds.

he nods and quickly walks out of the shop to hide his little shiver of excitement. you ask him about his bike (i fuckin love motorcycle men omg), something he is more than happy to chat about and explain to you.

you patiently listen for about ten minutes before he notices he hasn’t taken a breath since he started. “sorry, I’m keeping you.”, you quickly shake your head

“i like hearing you talk, mostly about things you are passionate about.” omg he lov- likes you so much.

he nods and looks away, hiding the massive blush that comes over his nose and cheeks.

“i’ll see you next week ghost.” you smile and wave goodbye.

he waves back and whispers to himself “for the rest of my life darling.”

okay this is kind of shit but i have written this in one sitting in the evening. feedback is always welcome as well, be respectful though. i will probably come back and edit this but enjoy :)

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #waitstaff!au #ghost riley x you #ghost riley imagine #fanfic #headcanon #rambles

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changbunnies · 1 year

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Sugar (18+)

♡ Pairing: Cowboy/Outlaw!Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: wild west au, cowboy/outlaw au, porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.5k (i got carried away lmao)

♡ Summary: Despite how terrible of an idea it is, Y/N can't seem to stop herself from continuously going back to the outlaw she let defile her. This is a sequel, and you can read part 1 here !

♡ Warnings: changbin is still mean and condescending in a "nice" sort of way. not as dubcon as part 1 but it is still a major theme, references to guns and gun fights+ bounty hunters + death + murder, discussions about morality + having a morally gray sense of right and wrong, discussions on purity and being impure / tainted / a "whore" (remember that this is a historical setting, and those views don't hold up! your worth as a person is not measured by purity and sex), their relationship is probs toxic lmao

♡ Smut Warnings: references to part 1 and other past dubcon situations, petnames (darlin, sugar, sweetheart, good girl, baby. reader is also refered to as a toy but not outwardly called one), power play, oral (f+m receiving), fingering (f receiving), orgasm denial, dacryphilia, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: a sequel to Outlaw that no one asked for but i was compelled to write :') as usual, if you’re interested you can check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams !

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

no first paragraph before read more because it goes straight into a dubcon discussion and i don't want anyone who would be bothered to accidentally see it! <3 just click the read more and enjoy !

You really should know better. You should know it’s a bad idea to keep going back to the outlaw who violated you, who treated you like a toy, who’s sense of morality was gray at best and entirely nonexistent at worst. How foolish must you be to continually make the same mistake over and over again? To return to the man who treats you as an object suited to his needs and entertainment?

Yes, you really should know better. And yet, here you are again, with the object of your fury and desire standing before you with that signature smirk and amused glint in his eye. Because despite everything, you find yourself addicted to him. You seek him out, again and again, unable to resist no matter how much the rational part of your brain screams at you not to.

The first time you met him again following that fateful first encounter was by coincidence. Changbin had strolled into your town as the sun hung low in the horizon, tying his horse to one of the many hitching posts outside your family’s saloon before entering. You didn’t notice him right away, much too busy serving drinks to the men on the opposite end of the bar from where he sat, but once your gaze finally reached his..

You froze completely, eyes wide and breath halted. His brow raised when yours eyes met, a delighted glint in his eye as his famous smirk overtook his features. Your mind and heart were racing, grappling between what you should do and how you will look if you make a scene out of him being here. He didn’t intend to stumble upon you here when deciding to settle in town for the night, but by God, was he glad this was the place he chose.

He had noticed you first evidently, and was just waiting for the moment when you’d notice him too. And it was amusing seeing you so disconcerted by his presence, your strong persona faltering the minute he entered your space.

He knew where your safe space was now, knew where you called home and where to come find you if he ever so chose to. You, the timid rabbit ensnared in a trap, and Changbin, the deadly hawk ready to devour.

You had to get it together, had to proceed as normal if you didn’t want someone else taking notice of your odd behavior and asking questions. If you were in your right mind, you could probably think of an appropriate excuse to why you were pushed off kilter, but Changbin left you anything but in your right mind.

“What can I get you tonight, sir?” You said after taking a brief moment to steady yourself. The entire exchange of looks the two of you shared likely lasted mere seconds in reality, but it felt like an eternity. He smiled, a mischievous one that did your racing heart no favors, before he answered, “A bourbon, if ya please.”

The night continued as normal for a time following that, with Changbin acting as a surprisingly well behaved bar patron. Though, the only reason he was well behaved was because his eyes were fixed on you. He watched in delight as you wrangled in rowdy patrons and ducked advances from drunken men left and right.

It was fun for him; watching you in your element like that, navigating the clamorous saloon with ease and redirecting trouble with a well practiced stern sweetness. Even your rejections to your patrons were sweet, almost sickeningly so; batted eyelashes, rehearsed apologies and excuses, with empty promises of a ‘next time.’

Eventually it came time for the saloon to close, with locals shuffling through the streets back to their homes while guests from out of town had to decide whether or not they’d be paying for a room to sleep off the drink in. And it’s during that time that Changbin finally caught you alone, the door to one of the saloon’s secluded storage cupboards left ajar after you entered the room.

You were just following your nightly routine, checking what stock you had left and taking note of what you’d need to get more of before the week’s end, when you heard the subtle squeak of boots behind you. “Hey there, darlin’,” he smiled as he closed the door behind himself, stepping closer to you after the lock clicked.

“Changbin–” your voice came out in a stern whisper, unconsciously taking a step back as he moved closer, though there wasn’t far for you to go in the small space, “Get out.”

“Now, now,” he tuts, feigning disappoint as he takes another step forward, further closing the gap between you, “is that any way to treat a payin’ guest?”

“Regardless of that, you still aren’t allowed in here,” you scowled, but his grin didn’t falter; if anything, it grew larger, gratified by the brave front you were putting on. If it were with anyone else, your bravery wouldn’t be a front at all, because you certainly are a brave woman– just not with Changbin.

With him, you’re weak, your spark diminishing the instant his eyes fall on you. And you’ll fight it, of course you will, but when all is said and done, you will give in. Because that’s just the effect he has on you.

“If you’d rather we do this out in the hall, I’m fine with that,” he challenged you, knowing very well that’s the last thing you’d want. His hand reached up to your neck, pushing your hair behind your shoulder and exposing your neck. “It’s a shame the marks have faded,” he said, voice low as his fingers traced your skin, “what do ya say we bring ‘em back, hmm?”

“Absolutely not,” you hissed, your hands landing on his shoulders as you tried to push him away from you. He stood firm despite your pushing, letting out a low chuckle as his fingers moved from your neck to your shoulder, and down the length of your torso. And to be fair, you weren’t actually using your full strength; you were holding back, and he could tell.

He’s familiar with how a woman who's desperate to get away will react– screaming, hitting, clawing; none of which is what you’re doing. And maybe that would make sense if you were the sort of person who’s fight or flight instinct was to freeze instead, but you're not. You’re brave, you fight, you don’t let men get the better of you.

So why is it that when it’s Changbin putting you in this situation, you easily relinquish control? Why were your attempts to put up a fight so feeble, as if you want to let him overpower you? The answer to that question is clear– the biting words and scornful looks doing little to hide the glimmer that hides underneath.

You want him. And if you weren’t ready to admit that to yourself yet, he’d help you see it.

He brought his face close to yours, foreheads just barely touching, the scent of bourbon strong on his breath. The saloon had grown quiet with the closing of the bar and guests retiring to their rooms, and it made you wonder if Changbin could hear how hard your heart was beating. Your eyes were looking to the side, avoiding his piercing gaze.

Eyes that looked straight through you, eyes that uncovered your deepest, darkest desires with ease, eyes that left no room for secrets or lies. Those were the kind of eyes Changbin had, and he used the power they held to his advantage with you. You can’t hide from him; his eyes strip you bare, leaving you as transparent as glass.

Whether you admitted to your desires or not, he’d be the winner. If you gave in right away, confess that he filled you with an impulsive need you previously thought impossible, he’d take pride in the fact that he made you that way. And if you fought, if you denied and rejected, you’d grant him satisfaction when you inevitably crumbled to his touch. Either option left you the loser, because he knows he’s right, and there’s no escaping it.

A one-sided stalemate, where the victor was already predetermined. Your fate unavoidable, Changbin’s hold on your senses undeniable. He has you, and that's why you couldn't look at him. Because no matter how hard you denied it, the truth would be apparent. Much to your dismay, he sees you for who you are– try as you might, there would be no hiding it.

“Look at me, sugar,” he said as his hand hiked up your dress. He wanted to see the expression you held, wanted to see how far your self determination had fallen. Whether it was a look of submission this early on, or a look of pure contempt, it wouldn’t matter; because either way, there’s fun for him to have with you.

“What do you want from me?” you asked with eyes squeezed shut, voice beginning to tremble as his hand rubbed between your thighs. You’re not even sure why you asked, entirely; you knew this was nothing but a game for him, an addictive cat and mouse. He’s in it for the pleasure, for the thrill of making you crumble to his whims– it was as simple and clear as that.

“Oh, darlin,” he cooed as he leaned his head further down, lips brushing against your ear, “you already know what I want.” Fuck. He could see goosebumps erupting on your skin, noticed the way you instinctively tried to close your legs together, though his hand instantly stopped the act from happening. Fun, he thought. Toying with you is so fun.

“I want you,” Changbin continued, bringing his other hand to your face and forcing you to look back at him. “I want you pinned down underneath me. I want to hold you by the throat while I fuck you. I want to watch you become stupid from my cock.”

Oh, God. Your face was on fire, heart bursting out of your chest, hopelessly ensnared by him; caught in a trap you had no hope of escaping from unscathed.

“I’m not going to let you do that,” you managed to say without stuttering, a feeble attempt to stand your ground, though the proverbial floor to stand on no longer existed. But with his hand nestled between your legs, you couldn’t hide the way your body reacted to his words; couldn’t hide the way arousal pooled in your underwear. Once again, your body has betrayed you.

“Is that right?” he grinned as he spoke, the amusement in his voice clear. He knew you’d let him have you, but the fact that you were denying it makes things much more exciting. “I don’t think that’s true, sugar,” Changbin said, now directly rubbing over your soaked underwear, “I think you’ll let me do anything I want.. I think ya want me just as bad as I want you.”

He was right, of course. Maybe you’d hide it for a time, but you won’t be able to resist for long. He’s frustratingly smug and assured, but it’s not without reason. Your self respect, your dignity, your purity– what had become of it? In blatant terms, it’d been ruined– forever marred by his touch, the damage to your body and mind irreparable.

And whatever you could reclaim from what was left has been forever tarnished by your own actions. Tainted by your desire for the man in front of you, your thirst forever unquenchable, the very sanctity of your being in the hands of a criminal.

And in the end, he fucked you right there, in the small, tucked away storage cupboard, with your back against the wall, and legs around his waist. His strength held you up, his arms hooked under your own and supporting all of your weight, your desperate noises muffled only by clamping your hands over your mouth.

He made regular visits to the town after that, becoming a loyal regular of the saloon, charming staff and other patrons alike with his wit and allure. It was infuriating watching him play the role of a simple wanderer looking for work, his true nature and motives known only to you.

No one else seemed to know what lied underneath the charming front. The worst kind of man, a manipulator through and through, a deviant who beckoned you to his room in the late hours of the night, the proprietor to a secret affair not yet uncovered by those around you.

However, he couldn’t hide his identity forever; his past actions eventually caught up to him when a gang of bounty hunters began to sweep the area with wanted posters in hand, eager to collect the reward for the head of Seo Changbin. He left town in a blaze of smoke and gunfire, shooting back at anyone who dared follow him.

You were relieved at first, knowing that Changbin couldn’t return without instigating a fierce gun fight for his life. But as the weeks passed, a gnawing feeling began to eat away at your chest. The bounty hunters moved on, carried by the promise of wealth further west, and yet Changbin hadn’t returned to town. And that was a good thing– or at least, it was supposed to be.

Did you.. miss him? No, that was impossible. Completely unfeasible, utterly out of the realm of possibility. That’s what you told yourself, but the gnawing feeling didn’t recede in the slightest; if anything, it grew stronger with each passing day.

Did you really want to see Changbin again? No, it had to be the hormones talking– surely you weren’t actually hoping to see him again. He twisted your beliefs and made you confused, that’s all; you could recover from this with time.

But you’d been thinking a lot lately about what made Changbin different from the bounty hunters that hunted him, and you came to the conclusion that they weren’t much different in the end; they went wherever money and women called to them, a penchant for violence ingrained in the very essence of their actions.

The only difference between them and Changbin was that he didn’t live under false pretenses or a faux sense of morality; he knew exactly who he was, and he didn’t pretend to be anything different in front of you.

And can you call a bounty hunter morally superior when at the end of the day they are still taking a life in exchange for money? Can you really say that one sin justifies another? Is it okay to kill someone if that person was in the wrong first? You didn’t think about these things until you met Changbin, and if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know where you stood anymore on whether or not someone like him deserved to die.

You found yourself questioning the people you used to applaud, and wondering if you were really as good of a person as you thought you were. Maybe these complicated feelings always lied within you, and all it took to bring them out was meeting the right person.

No, it was all Changbin’s fault that you’ve begun to feel this way. He warped your thoughts and desires, he made you doubt what you once held firm to, he’s bad for you.

But even so, knowing he’s bad for you, knowing that he makes you act irrationally, knowing that he triggers your deepest impulses, you are here again. Back in the place you first met him, the place you once called home, surrounded by the ghosts of your past, of the person you were before you met him.

“So we meet again, darlin’,” he said when your figure first emerged in his doorway, tense frame instantly relaxing when met with the sight of you, hand falling from its readied position on his gun holster.

You are no threat to him, hungry for his touch as you are. Any threat from you would ring hollow, because for better or worse, he knows you. And you're certainly capable of a lot of things, but fighting against your basest desires doesn’t seem to be one of them.

You stepped inside fully, trying to have a nonchalant air about you, though you’re sure Changbin was able to see through it. He always reads you easily, always takes notice of even the most minute of changes in your body language. You’re sure that even now, he can sense the subtle shy anxiety that wells under the surface. But regardless, you’re here now, having come too far to retreat at the last minute.

And you know that he knows what it is you want, knows why you are here, but should you still be honest? Debase yourself by admitting your most carnal of desires? But at this point, what were you if not tarnished?

Your worth can’t go any lower than it already has– you were already brought to your lowest point, so what was the harm in indulgence? If you were already ruined, why shouldn’t you disregard all you’ve ever been taught, all you ever thought you knew, and let him devastate you?

But no, you can’t do that. It would be too easy, and if there’s anything you’ve learned about Changbin, it’s that he doesn’t like easy. He wants you to stand your ground, he wants you to argue and fight against everything he says and does. He wants your eyes angry, for your voice to tremble with indignation, because it’ll make it that much better when he dismantles you.

He wants to be the object of your ire, for your resentment to build to the point of eruption, only for it to be eclipsed by how good it feels when he fucks you. Whether or not you truly hate him is up for debate at this point, and ultimately doesn’t matter much. What does matter is the fun you grant him, the cat and mouse game culminating into a moment that can only be described as pure bliss.

“I know, I know. Ya want me to fuck you, don’t ya darlin’?” He smiles as he says it, anticipating what your reaction will ultimately be. A glare maybe, with your face hot and red, or mousy as you finally admit openly how bad you want him.

While the looks of animosity are his favorite, he likes the shy looks too; the timid expression on your face when he catches you off guard, a quick glimmer of embarrassment or sheepishness before you can conjure your antipathy to replace it.

“No. I want to fuck you. And you’ll let me,” you say, hoping to come across as confident and stern, “You’ll do whatever I want you to do.”

“Oh? Is that right?” Changbin lets out a laugh, head tilting as he grants you another amused look. That’s certainly a surprise, but he’s not opposed to it. He can easily do that– give you a taste of control, that is. It’s an interesting proposition; a fun one.

He can let you believe you’re the one in charge, that you have the power to make the rules and that he’ll follow them. And maybe he will follow them– to an extent, of course.

He’ll give you his ‘yes, ma’am’s’ and ‘whatever ya say, darlin’ ‘s, play the role of the obedient man cursed to follow your whims, hit you with tongue-in-cheek remarks and let you ‘tame’ him with harsh looks and biting words when he steps out of line. All so that in the end, when he easily takes all the control away from you, it’ll be that much sweeter.

It’s a fun game you’re offering him, so he’ll play the hell out of it. “Sure, sweetheart. You’ve been a good girl for me, I can give ya a reward,” Changbin smirks as he says it, clearly not taking you seriously in the slightest. But that’s okay, because you didn’t expect him to; you knew any attempt to wrestle control would be met with an amused smirk, you knew that none of your harsh words would do anything but fuel his delight.

The reason you’re doing this isn’t to try and gain some sense of control that you know you won’t be granted, and you don’t intend to make him genuinely submit to you; it’s just part of the game between you, and you’re doing your part to make it the most enjoyable it can be. Because if you’re addicted to Changbin, if you can’t escape the way his touch makes you feel, if you can’t get past the need and craving for him, then you need to make him just as addicted to you.

Just as your thoughts are consumed by him, you want his to be consumed by you. Think of only you, crave only you, make it so that no one else in the world can compare. You want to be the first person, the only person, he goes to when he wants to fuck. You want to be the drug in his veins, you want to eat away at his self-control the same way he eats away at yours.

Changbin could easily fight against your touches, stand firm in place and overpower you if he so chooses, but he’s letting you push him to his knees. “Oh, this is what you want?” he asks with his usual smirk, his hands already moving under your dress to squeeze at your thighs. “Ya could’ve just asked, sweetheart. I’ll do it if you ask me nicely.”

You roll your eyes, letting a scoff escape your lips. The only way he’d listen to a request from you is if he relentlessly teased and embarrassed you first. You can easily picture the way he’d grin at you, and the condescending tone and words he’d use to make your fists tremble and skin flush. Yes, even if you asked nicely, begged sweetly, or even desperately, he’d use it to ruin you.

“I’m not asking,” you say as you pull your dress up and over your head, tossing it to the floor beside you, because if Changbin is going to be between your legs, you want a full view of it. Rather than act though, he stays completely still, looking up at you with a lifted brow and not at all subtle smirk, as if to challenge you. A look that says ‘aren’t you going to make me?’

You bring your hand to his hair, tugging roughly as you pull him closer to your center, commanding him to get started. “So pushy, are you always this needy?” he teases with a laugh, but adheres to your demand nonetheless, wasting no time in letting his tongue out to lap at you, his hands now squeezing your thighs rougher than before.

Your previous affairs were a secret you held close to your chest, as you knew you’d be branded a “whore” if it was known you’ve had sex whilst unwed. That being said, you’d only done the act with those you had serious interest in. Sweet men, who treated you like an angel, with the utmost care and consideration. Careful touches and soft kisses that were carried through all interactions with you.

When they ate you out, they did so sweetly, with slow kitten licks and gentle caresses to your thighs. And it was nice, you even thought you liked it at the time, but you know that’s not what you want now. Everything about Changbin is different from every other man you’ve been with, and you want this moment to be different too. You want him to devour you, to make a mess of you, to make you feel a pleasure so foreign and intense that it consumes you.

And that’s exactly what he grants you– a pleasure so explosive you have to bite your lip to hold back the noises that threaten to leave you. The drag of his tongue can only be described as euphoric, and when his lips wrap around your clit and suck, you can’t help but let out a loud, shuddering gasp. You want to keep watching him, but you can’t– your eyes refuse to stay open, the pleasure much too intense to do anything else.

He can tell you’re close when your thighs start twitching, quick breathy pants and whines leaving you freely. And that’s when he gets an evil idea– an idea that will make you desperate and whiny, one that will rip any semblance of control out from your hands and place it back into his. A strong suck on your clit, a few quick flicks of his tongue, your body trembling as your mind screams close, close, close–

And in an instant the feeling is gone, all the built up pleasure receding into nothing. A frustrated whine leaves your lips, looking down to see Changbin staring back at you with that stupid fucking smile he has every time he successfully drives you crazy. “F-Fuck, you fucking asshole, you–” you prattle off insults, though the act does nothing but add to the satisfaction he feels; this is exactly the reaction he was hoping for.

You move your hand to the back of his head, pushing him back to where you want him and demanding that he keep going. And to your surprise, he does, though not without a muffled snicker first. And if your mind wasn’t so clouded by the desire to cum, you might have realized what his intentions were by going back in without a fight, but you didn’t have the mental capacity for that any longer. All you knew is that you wanted, needed, to release all over his tongue.

Changbin goes through the same motions as before, expertly building you up to your release, getting you so, so close, before pulling away again right before you can. Another frustrated, high pitched whine leaves you, hips stuttering in an effort to feel something, anything to bring your release to you. You look down at him again, eyes glossy from the tears welling in them, and fuck, that look really does it for him. The pretty look of aggravation mixed with desperation makes his cock impossibly hard.

You try to push him to your pussy again, but this time he resists, staying firmly in place and watching the way your expression twists into one of near anguish with an amused satisfaction. “Changbin–” your voice doesn’t come out anywhere near as stern and commanding as you wish it to; instead, his name leaves you as an urgent, desperate mewl.

“Aww, poor thing. Ya gonna cry?” he mocks you, head tilted and an infuriating grin plastered on his face. Fuck. You knew it wouldn’t be long until Changbin flipped the script and put you back at his mercy, but this soon?

And he didn’t know whether you were genuinely vying for control or not, if you went into this with the intent to fight until the bitter end or if you were resolved to relinquish it after some time; what he did know is that he loved seeing you like this. Broken almost, resolve crumbled like a sand castle hit by a wave, so weak and ruined, all because of him.

“Want me to keep going?” he asks in a tone that is almost sickeningly sweet, another twisted smile of satisfaction on his face. You nod frantically, a shameless display of your need, and he smirks, answering your reaction with a condescending, “Why should I?” Another whine, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as indignation and desperation eat away at you.

Changbin coos when he sees the tears fall, another “poor thing” leaving him. Funny how he’s the one on his knees, yet is the one entirely in control. You beg wantonly now, countless utterances of “please” and “I need it”, all sense of restraint and shame seeming to have evaporated the moment your tears began to fall. The display makes his cock throb in his trousers, erotic beyond words, utterly enthralling and so pretty.

“Shh, that’s enough darlin’,” he says as he takes one of your legs and guides it over his shoulder, fully ready to support your weight and keep you standing for what he plans to do next.

You keen when his tongue finally makes contact with you again, body shuddering as your head lolls back. One arm snakes around the leg not propped up on him, squeezing at the flesh within his reach, while the other moves between your thighs, fingers prodding at your entrance for just a moment before sliding easily inside.

He gives you no time to adjust to the thickness of his fingers, setting a fast pace with them from the very start. Your eyes roll back, a cacophony of lewd noises filling the space as your high quickly builds back up for the third time.

Between the earlier denied orgasms, the relentless pace he’s setting now with his fingers and the way his lips feel wrapped around your clit, you’re already dangerously close. Your fingers tangle in his hair, both as a means to ground yourself and to keep him as close to you as possible; and it only takes a few more thrusts of his fingers and flicks of his tongue to send you over the edge.

You cum hard, Changbin’s body and hold on your leg being the only thing keeping you upright as the waves of pleasure course through you. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your entire body shaking, with the only noise you’re capable of making being sharp gasps as your release spills on his tongue and fingers.

You sink to the floor when he moves back and lets you go, legs akin to jello and no longer able to support your weight after having what was easily the most intense orgasm of your life. Your eyes are still closed, breathing labored as you try to bring your mind back down to earth. Changbin meanwhile rises to his feet, being the one to look down at you now.

It’s a pretty sight; your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, tear stains on your cheeks and body flushed. But it could still be prettier, and he knows exactly how he wants to achieve that look. “Open your eyes, sweetheart,” you hear Changbin’s voice call to you from above, and when you do you’re met with quite the sight.

His cock is in one of his hands, trousers having fallen to the floor around his ankles. You must have been too lost in your haze to hear him unzip his pants, or to hear the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor. You look up at his face next, taking in the expectant gaze he’s shooting at you.

You’re half tempted to say no, to make a big show out of protesting and coax him to put you back in your place, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want his cock in your mouth right now. It’s not often you’re granted the pleasure of sucking him off, as he usually he goes straight into fucking you after he’s done with his merciless teasing– so you’ll play the good girl role, just this once.

You shift to be fully on your knees, opening your mouth wide for him and letting your hands rest on his thighs. He brings a hand to the back of your head, pushing you the rest of the way when you hesitate, ensuring you take the entirety of his length in your mouth in one go. You gag when the tip touches your throat, but Changbin’s hand holds you in place, preventing you from instinctively retreating.

The way you're looking up at him through your lashes, eyes glossy with fresh, unshed tears and nose touching his pubic bone– it’s enough to drive him wild. But he won’t lose it just yet; he’ll grant you a small kindness by giving you a few moments to adjust, to familiarize yourself with the feeling of his cock down your throat and learn how to breathe through it. He can’t let his favorite toy completely suffocate on him, after all.

He sets a brutal pace once he’s sure you’re adjusted, sparing your poor throat no mercy. You can barely even hear the low groans he lets out over the salacious sounds leaving your mouth and throat. It’s a struggle not to choke and sputter every time he thrusts back into your mouth, and each failed attempt causes the tears on your lashes to spill over.

The saliva that has pooled in your mouth escapes out of the sides, sliding down your chin and dripping onto your chest. You can’t help but squirm as he holds your head in place, your nails digging into his thighs as you try your hardest to ignore the growing ache in your jaw and effectively breathe through your nose. You can feel his cock twitch against your tongue as his pace becomes the slightest bit more sporadic, and for a moment you think he intends to cum down your throat, but he doesn’t.

He pulls out instead, a subtle smirk on his face as he watches you take big, gulping breaths to allow air back into your lungs. You wipe your face clean with the back of your hand before you look up at him, knowing he’s far from done with you. He takes you in his arms, helping you rise to your feet (though you doubt he’s helping you due to any sort of caring, and is only doing it to get you where he wants you faster.)

“Come with me, darlin’,” he says as he leads you to the bed with him, paying no mind to the unsteadiness in your legs as you try to keep up with his pace. Changbin sits first, pulling you onto his lap immediately after. You already know what he wants, but you can’t– your knees ache from the time spent on the hard floor, and the usual strength in your legs has all but evaporated.

“Bin–” you start to whine, complaints lingering on your lips, but he tuts before you can even begin to speak them. “What’s wrong, sugar? Didn’t ya say you wanted to fuck me?”

Fucking asshole, throwing your words back at you and looking at you with that devilish smile. He should know you weren’t even that serious about it! He’s just being cruel. “I can’t, I–”

“You can,” he interrupts, guiding you to align yourself with him, “You will.” His hands are holding your hips, another expectant look on his face as he waits for you to sink down on him. “You’re so fucking mean–” you cry, body trembling as you lower yourself onto his cock. He just grins, knowing very well that if you truly hated how mean he was, you wouldn’t have crawled your way back to him.

Your pace isn’t all that fast given the ache in your knees, but contrary to what you’d expect, Changbin doesn’t scold you. Instead, he cups your face under the chin, directing you to look at him. “So sweet, aren’t ya sugar?” he smiles, thumb rubbing your cheek while his other hand stays firmly on your hip, “such a brat sometimes, but you do whatever you're told in the end, don’t ya? Such a good girl when ya want to be, huh?”

You should be ashamed of the way his words fill your stomach with butterflies, but you truly can’t help it. He knows what he’s doing too; knows how to drive you absolutely crazy, knows how to be mean in just the right way, so that when a praise hits your ears it affects you all the more.

However, despite your best effort, you can’t get your legs to cooperate with you any further. Your legs feel so heavy, and having your hands firmly placed on Changbin’s chest for support does nothing to ease the unsteady trembling. It’s a subtle sort of humiliation– making you do something he knows is near impossible in your current state.

The tears are welling in your eyes again and threatening to spill, frustration in your gut and exhaustion completely taking over your body. Your legs throb from the exertion and fatigue, your energy beyond spent, you can’t keep going. Your pace slows to a near stop, and you look at him pleadingly, teary eyed and pouty, a silent beg for his help.

He knew you wouldn’t be able to do it for long, but he made you do it anyway, because this is what he really wanted. He wanted to watch you turn into a pathetic, whining mess, he wanted to relish the look of anguish on your face. He has to be cruel to you, because the end result is always so addicting.

“Tell me what you need, baby. Need my help? Need me to fuck you?” he smiles sweetly as he asks, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. You nod quickly, leaning into his touch that shouldn’t at all be comforting but somehow is in your near-delirious state. “Use your voice, sweetheart. I gotta hear you say it.”

God, he loves when you get to this point– where all anger and shame has been replaced by the overwhelming desire and need you feel for him. You’re babbling out pleas over and over, and he takes a moment to savor the sound of it before shushing you. “Hush now, darlin’, I’ll give ya what you want.”

He flips your positions easily, you landing on your back against the mattress and Changbin now hovering over you. You stare up at him as he sinks back into you, the sight of him making your heart race. It’s infuriating how handsome he is, especially in moments like this, where sweat lingers on his brow and his jaw clenches.

Changbin is good at acting unaffected by you, always able to make it seem like he’s not at all enthralled or addicted, always making your need for him appear one-sided. But the truth is he needs you just as bad as you need him, because in you he has finally found his perfect match. You wanted him to crave you solely, to look for you and only you, not knowing that he already was.

He didn’t seek you out all those times after your lucky re-encounter because it was easy or convenient; it’s because it was you, specifically. He’s no stranger to brothels and bordellos, nor to the coy advances of working women. There are countless women in the world, countless establishments he could spend his coin at to satiate himself, but they weren’t you. All he wants and all he needs, the very picture of perfection, you.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a sensual kiss as he starts to thrust in earnest, and the act makes your stomach twist. He’s kissed you before of course, but only ever with the intent to tease or humiliate you, and never while his cock was inside you. And you don’t know why, but it feels good. He can tell you like it too, by the way you clench around him, and from the way a pleasured noise he’s never heard before leaves your throat.

He keeps his lips attached to yours, tongues sloppily rubbing together. His fingers dig into your hips as he fucks into you, his tight hold leaving indentations behind in your skin. Changbin curses under his breath when he pulls away, both of your highs quickly approaching. You’re squeezing him so tight, and the feeling of your nails digging into his skin is intoxicating.

“Fuck, ‘m so close-” he groans, pace quickly becoming more sporadic. And this is normally the point he’d pull out, letting his cum spill between your thighs or onto your chest and stomach, but.. He looks at you, and all he can think about is how you’re his. He wants no one else to have you, no one else to touch you, no one to even look at you the way he does.

So instead, he pulls you in even closer, your chest firmly pressed into his as he presses his lips to your ear. “Gonna cum in you darlin’. You’d like that, right? Want me to fill you up?” You gasp at his words, one that transitions into a moan as your arms and legs wrap snuggly around him. It’s a bad fucking idea, but you want it so bad.

Whatever the consequences are, you’re too far gone to care about them. You want him to claim you in all ways; his teeth, his nails, his cum– it didn’t matter, so long as you were his in the end. “Y-Yes, please, I want it,” your answer comes out between shuddering inhales, desperate and eager for Changbin to release inside you.

It only takes a few more thrusts for him to spill inside you, the sensation of his cum shooting in you both foreign but good beyond what you ever could’ve imagined. His hips don’t stop moving even as he cums, and the continued thrusts paired with the feeling of being filled up for the first time sends you over the edge too, body convulsing in his hold as pure pleasure fills your senses.

You’re both breathless when you finally come down from your high, body going limp as you release Changbin from your hold. He pulls out slowly, and fuck, the sight of his cum dripping out of your hole is utterly intoxicating; he’s definitely going to become addicted to it. He lies next to you when he’s done admiring the view, looking at your face next with a subtle smile.

“What do ya think about being my lady? Hmm, baby?” he asks as he pulls you in, pressing your body into his as his arm wraps around your waist. You blink as you process it, a sort of warmth overtaking your body as the question settles in you.

“...Are you serious?” you can’t help but ask, unsure if this is going to transition into some sort of tease if you say yes, or if the question is genuine.

“Dead serious, darlin’,” Changbin answers easily, his smile the most earnest you’ve ever seen it to be. Not at all condescending, no trace of a humiliating remark waiting to be said; he’s simply asking you a question, with nothing more beyond it.

And he wouldn’t say it’s love that drives him to make you his, because genuine love is a foreign thing to a man like him, but this is likely the closest he’ll ever get. He just wants to know you’ll always be there, that you’d follow him anywhere he goes, that no matter where life takes the two of you, you’ll belong to him and he’ll belong to you.

And fuck, it’s a really bad idea. You really, really shouldn’t– you should know better. So why are you entertaining the idea? Why does the thought of spending your days with someone so objectively terrible make you so happy?

He’s really fucking ruined you, it seems. He’s a terrible man who does terrible things, he’s a criminal, he’s a manipulator– your immediate answer should be a resounding “no.” But the truth of the matter is that Changbin makes you feel like no one else; infuriated but desired, broken but simultaneously put together.

You’ve come to enjoy the dynamic you have with him; you now understand the fun in the back and forth, the pleasure to be had in the banter and fight, how impossible it is to let someone who matches your energy go. And a life with him would surely be a life of turmoil, of danger and of risk, but it would also be one of pleasure and unforeseen excitement.

Your life was good before meeting him, but it was also dull and predictable. You were likely to spend your whole life in the same place, forever at the beck and call of your parents, or a man that while sweet, wouldn’t excite or please you the way Changbin does. If you say yes, your life will change forever.

No, that’s not quite true; your life already has been forever altered by meeting him. You’re already his, and this is nothing more than a formality. Because why else would you be here right now, if you weren’t already his? For better or worse, you belong to him, body and soul, and you’ve come to realize that nothing will change it.

“Teach me how to use a gun and I’m all yours,” you finally say, and Changbin laughs, clearly pleased with the answer you came to. “You got it, darlin’. Just promise ya won’t shoot me by the time we’re done.”

“No promises. I’d be careful if I were you,” you smile, tone light and playful. “Is that a threat, sugar?” he meets your smile with one of his own, tilting his head to the side as he always does when he’s amused.

“Sure is. Don’t pretend you don’t deserve it,” you answer, and he laughs again, pulling you into a kiss afterwards. Body to body, limbs tangled together as you smile at each other, he thinks about what a perfect partner in crime you’ll be from here on out.

#skz x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #changbin smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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dee-morris · 9 months

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An Overdue Rant and a Christmas Fic

I wrote this Hallmark AU last December. It was supposed to be a jokey little one-shot, but man it ate my brain. My average daily word count is 500-1k words a day, and I think I was doing 2k to 5k a day until it was done. I couldn't fuckin stop, and it was glorious.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43616245/chapters/109670092

This is very important to me, because I came to fanfic like a dying traveler comes to an oasis. After the pandemic I became deeply depressed and I developed chronic writer's block. Marketing was an uphill slog, and not being able to go out and socialize at events made it unbearable. When I did go out, the anxiety I felt about COVID made it not fun. I wasn't sure if I was ever going to write again.

Writing fanfiction was a welcome reprieve from all that: no deadlines! No SEO! No depressingly tiny royalty statements! Positive reinforcement with no dollar signs attached! So it was nice, it was fun, but I didn't really get my groove back until I wrote HallMark. That wasn't just fun. That was drive. That was passion. And it was glorious.

After it was done and posted, I couldn't forget about it. I had to know what it was about that story that grabbed me by the brain cells like that. So I went back and read it again, and I read the comments (thank you all kind people you're the best), and I realized that it was about Aziraphale and Crowley, but it was really about my feelings towards how children are raised.

*I'm not going to completely spoil the fic here, but feel free to go read it before we get further bc I'm about to discuss some thematic elements.*

Crowley is raising the Antichrist to be the destroyer of worlds on the surface, but underneath it he cares about the world, and he cares about Adam too. And that is the side of him that Adam responds to, and why he turns out the way he does. And that's what parents don't understand about children. They are only kind of listening to your words. What they respond to, and what nurtures them, is your behavior towards them and towards the world you're raising them in. If you tell your kid that Jesus loves everyone and we should help the poor, but you vote for people who will cut welfare bc you think you'll get a tax break and a new boat, your kid sees you. If you tell your kid that it's a sin to judge others but you glare at a tall woman going into the ladies room bc you think she might be trans, your kid sees you. They might grow up to be an asshole or they might grow up to think that you're one, but either way you lose.

And if you tell your kid that his destiny is to destroy the world and that living things are fit only to be ground under his heels, but you make him sandwiches and worry about him when he's out of your sight and buy him stupid Christmas crap because it makes him happy, your kid might not turn out as evil as you thought.

(don't actually tell your kid he's the Antichrist, btw, this fic is hyperbole for symbolic thematic purposes and not a parenting guide)

Anyway, my point is if you love your kid and treat him right, if you treat other people right, and give him a stable home and maybe a dog if you can afford it, he'll probably turn out pretty much okay. The rest is just flavor.

Parents stress too much about things that don't matter, but it's not our fault. You have to run the gauntlet a couple of times before you can filter out stuff that matters from stuff that doesn't, because the books and guides and parenting classes will just try to scare you about everything. Let me assure you that your baby does not give two shits if you feed with breast or bottle. But your child will remember whether you were happy, and whether you took pleasure in their presence in your life.

So what sucked me in about this fic was the reversal of what I've seen in the real world. My brain conjured a fantasy of someone who's a good parent despite themselves, instead of a bad parent with a church habit and a fat bank account. Of course I had to bring that fantasy into the world. It's how things become real.

#fanfiction writer #fanfiction #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable parents #parenting #children #ao3

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here4kpopfics · 2 years

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Feeling in Chaos - Fall pt. 1 | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader | Yoongi x (f) reader

Genre: drama, angst, smut

AU: art college!au, friends to lovers, best friend’s brother

Wordcount: 10,198

Summary: Having to revisit somewhere full of memories for the first time, you ask a friend (?) for help.

Rating: M / 18+

Warnings: Language. Grief. Panic attacks. Y/n has PTSD and is learning how to get through it. Mentions of use of medication. Bad decisions. Jealousy. Self-loathing. Possibly problematic friendship/relationship. If you are sensitive to any of these topics, please just skip this story.

Smut Warnings: oral (both f and m receiving). Protected sex. He gets a little rough at the end, but very vanilla considering what I usually write.

AN: Sorry for the long wait. The original decision was to have the entire season be their own chapters, but I didn’t want to make the wait time even longer, and the chapters would be over 50k words each. So the seasons get parts and you get updates faster! A reminder that you are free to dislike the way a character behaves and the choices they make and the words they say, especially when dealing with a trauma or grieving. But remember that doesn’t always make them who they are. People overreact, people underreact. Emotions are either heightened or taken away and it can cause a lot of trouble.

Thank you to my soulmate @playmetheclassics for beta/editing and for just dealing with me freaking out over how the story reads and if people will hate it and me basically spoiling it left and right. You're amazing. 💜

Banner and Divider by @classicscreations

Masterlist | Taglist | AskBox | Coffee?

PREVIOUS | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT

Y/N (6:47pm): Are you busy?

Yoongi (6:58 pm): For you? Never.

You roll your eyes, sitting in the corner of the library, backpack and canvas sitting on the table in front of you. You curled up into one of the chairs, deciding to wait at the library for his response rather than go home.

Y/N (7:00 pm): I’m sorry for ghosting this week…

Y/N (7:00 pm): School started, and it’s been a mess. 😔

Y/N (7:01 pm): But if you still wanted to hang out before group on Saturday, and are free right now, there’s somewhere I need to go and could use some support…

You hit send and feel the anxiety creeping in at the thought of his rejection and having to go alone. Thankfully, you don’t have to wait too long before he replies.

Yoongi (7:03 pm): Where do you want me to meet you?

You sigh in relief, texting him where you are and that you’d come out when he was there. He says he’d need about an hour, and you were happy to wait, trying to mentally prepare for a step in the grieving process you knew you weren’t ready for.

You get comfortable in the chair, hugging your knees to your chest as you sit sideways and leaning your head onto the headrest. You try to focus on keeping your breathing steady instead of the loud voices in your head screaming at you, but both are interrupted by the vibrations from your phone.

Incoming Call: 💜🍪Kookie📷💜

Fuck, I didn’t text him that I was staying after.

Sighing, you answer the phone, holding it up to your ear.

“Hmm?” Is the only thing you can get out. You’re never sure how to greet him anymore.

“Y/n? Where are you? I thought classes ended at four?”

“They did. I stayed after and spent time in Varon’s trying to complete my painting.”

“Did you?” You puff out a small laugh at the question.

“Nope.”

“You’ll get it done. I believe in you.” you wish he wouldn’t. “Are you on your way back?”

“Uhm…no…” you feel your body tensing up, “I’m actually going to go to the studio…see if I can finish it there.”

The line is silent. None of you have gone to the studio. It was the safe space for all four of you, and the idea of going back there was something you and Jungkook had discussed, but neither wanted to until Ryujin was ready.

“Are you with Ry?”

“No…I can’t wait for her to be ready, Koo. I have to get this done.” You hear a heavy sigh on the other line, followed by what sounds like clothing moving against one another.

“Okay. I’ll meet you there. And we can do it toget–”

“No,” you interrupt. “I’m fine, Jungkook. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not doing this by yourself, y/n.”

“I’m not.”

More silence.

“You’re not?”

“No…I’m going with someone else.” You wince at the confession, knowing you’re doing it again. You’re hurting him.

“Joshua?”

“No, he went home after class.”

“...is it that guy from last week? Your new sex buddy? Yongjin?” You groan, running your hand across your face in annoyance.

“His name’s Yoongi, Jungkook. Don’t even pretend not to remember his name. And yes, with him. I’m just waiting at the library for him to meet me here.”

The line stays silent again. You can only imagine the face he’s making on the other end right now. Eyebrows pinched together, jaw clenching as he gnaws on the side of his cheek. He’s probably glaring at the wall, wishing he had his punching bag in front of him. You almost check the phone to see if he hung up on you before you hear a big breath being taken.

“But he doesn’t—”

“Exactly, but he doesn’t. That’s the point, Jungkook,” you cut him off again, closing your eyes in frustration. ”Please, let me do this alone, with him, with someone who doesn’t know Kai. Someone who knows the pain of losing a sibling. I’m really fucking trying here, okay? I want to live a life worth living for Kai, and I can’t fucking do that if you keep coddling me like this. I love you, you know I love you, but I need someone else right now, okay? Please?”

You sniffle, using your free hand to wipe away the invisible tears you can’t bring yourself to let out anymore, and listen closely to the man on the other end of the call, not saying a word for a moment.

“Okay.” He mumbles it out reluctantly.

“Just…let me know if you need me, okay? Or at least text me when you’re there and when you’re back home, so I know you’re okay?” His voice cracks twice, and your heart with it, but you quietly agree to his terms, both saying goodbye and hanging up.

“Fuck!” you shout in a whisper against the back of the chair, voices in your head screaming at your mistakes in wording and ruining everything with Jungkook again.

You nearly jump to another universe at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder, turning quickly to smack the person touching you, only to find Yoongi. You can’t even bring yourself to yell at him, forcing yourself to a normal sitting position instead.

“Hey. You okay, love?”

You shake your head in response, grabbing your backpack and putting it on while Yoongi grabs the canvas before you can.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

You shake your head again, grabbing his free hand and intertwining your fingers with his as you lead him out of the library and away from the school. It’s a quick walk from the campus, about six moderately sized blocks, but you both stay silent until you’re a block away from the studio. You feel a small tug on your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“Y/n, I’m not doing whatever this is unless you talk to me.”

You turn to look at him, fighting off the many different emotions building up in your heart.

“I…it’s hard to explain. I’d rather ignore it and focus on why I called you, okay?”

“No. Not okay.” He tugs you closer, chests almost touching.

“What happened?” His tone softens as he stands the canvas on the ground against his leg to free his hand that moves a strand of hair out of your face.

You keep your eyes on the beautiful necklace around his neck. The little gold star-shaped pendant resting perfectly under the center of his clavicle with the initials MK carved into it. You wonder where he got it or who gave it to him.

“I just keep fucking things up with people, and I speak without thinking, and I’m just so tired of it. I’m tired of explaining my feelings. I’m tired of being treated like some basketcase or some fragile flower about to be crushed by the wind. I’m tired, Yoongi. So can we please drop this?”

He watches you closely, your eyes never stray from his chest, and you look exactly how you feel. Angry and exhausted and like you could use a room with a bunch of plates you can break. Your actions differ from your expressions, though, your hand squeezes onto his as if you’re scared and begging for help, looking for some sort of lifeline.

He knows you enough to know your actions are more than your reactions. The emotions you put on for people can easily be the opposite of what’s real. He sighs, gives a small nod before kissing your forehead, and agrees to drop it. He picks the canvas back up and lets you continue to lead the way silently.

You finally approach an old building that had been converted into an apartment complex, still maintaining its historic features. You punch in the code to unlock the doors, and Yoongi quietly follows as you enter an old elevator, closing the door and gate first before pressing the button that brings you to one of the top floors.

“So,” you say, taking in a deep breath as the elevator jolts and starts moving.

“Kai, Ryujin, Jungkook, and I are…were…are all into the arts, right? I’m painting and drawing, Jungkook photography, Ryujin fashion design, and Kai graphic design. We thought it’d be easier for us to have an art studio that we’d all share rather than each having our own because that’d be too expensive, ya know? And none of us really have the space to do it at our apartments. Kai and Jungkook maybe, but then Jungkook recently got into film and wanted his own darkroom, so…”

“Makes sense,” he nods along, watching you open the gate and opening the door of the desired floor.

“So we piled all our money together once Kai and Jungkook got accepted at our school, and bought this floor space in this office building and turned it into four rooms.” you explain as you play with the keys in your palm as you approach the door to your shared safe space, trying to delay the inevitable.

“The one immediately on the right is Ryujin’s room, the left is Jungkook’s, mine is the back left, and Kai’s…” you pause, forcing yourself to unlock the door and open it. You stay standing outside as the door swings open, revealing a dark room, lit only by the lights of the city and sky outside.

“Kai’s room is back, right.” Your voice falters, and Yoongi squeezes your hand to get you to look at him.

“This is your first time back, isn’t it?” you nod, chewing on your lip.

“Have you tried coming here before?” you shake your head.

“Okay, let’s go. You said back left?” After you give a quick nod, Yoongi brings your held hand up to his lips, giving a small kiss on the back of your hand before walking in and holding you close.

He turns on the light, scanning the room for your door. There are two giant L-shaped couches merged together in the main area, and a big tv hanging on the wall. A tiny kitchen is tucked in a corner of the place, and as you had stated, four doors in the open floor space. He finds the one that is painted multiple colors, with your name hiding amongst the smears of paint. You step in front of him to unlock it with a four-digit code, 0901, hearing the obnoxious clicking sound before the door finally starts to open. You quickly step inside, turning on the light and bringing your hand away from his finally.

Your room is exactly as you left it a few days before finals in the spring. It’s messy from all of the last-minute painting you had to do and there’s a wall with various finished canvases lined up against one another. As chaotic as it feels with all the different colors and the paint covering the floor and walls, it’s specifically organized. There’s a table that holds all your brushes, pens, and markers in various jars, separated by size and type. There’s a cabinet full of various paints organized by medium and brand. And the same can be said for the clean canvases and varying sketchbooks. There’s a smaller couch in the corner with a rainbow Squishmallow sitting on it, and a stool in the center, sitting in front of a giant empty easel.

“Wow.” is all Yoongi can bring himself to say as he walks up to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city and the school. You ignore him as you take the canvas from him and set it on the easel. You unpack your paint supplies, grabbing more from the cabinet and table, and organizing the tray next to the easel. You send a quick text to Jungkook that you’re in your studio and turn your location on to share with him while Yoongi has moved to the other wall and starts sifting through your finished pieces.

“Y/n, when you said you painted, I didn’t know you were actually this fucking good.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult? I can’t tell.” you narrow your eyes at him, a small smile forming on your lips.

“Trust me, love. It’s a fucking compliment. It’s - oh holy shit, this is nice!” He exclaims, pulling out the one you painted three years ago of a neighbor’s cat.

“Whose cat is this?”

“A neighbor from a few years ago. They moved as I was finishing it up for them. Never got their new address.” You watch him hold the canvas up in awe.

“Do you want it?”

His eyes snap to yours. “What?”

“You can have it, I have no use for it.”

“Are you sure?” you nod confidently.

“Yeah, put it in the cat cafe or something, I don’t really care.”

The grin that adorns his face is something you would love to paint one day. You take a mental photo of him, saving it for a day you feel inspired again. You can’t help but smile back, eyes darting to the floor when he puts it down next to the door.

“I’ll put it on the center of the wall in the room with the cats so everyone who comes in can see it.” He steps closer to you, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. “So what are we doing here today?”

You give him the rundown of the canvas, showing him the picture of the oak tree you took after texting him, explain your inability to see the colors in the paint and your new instructions from Professor Varon to just paint with whatever.

He agrees to stick around while you paint, laying on your tiny couch and lets you tell him random stories about Kai while you make the smallest strokes on the canvas, trying to figure out what the colors are. You let Yoongi choose the colors at random, squeezing them onto the pallet in no specific order. You hate that you can’t tell which color is which. You can almost see the color red, but that’s about it.

This is going to look horrible.

An hour later, Yoongi’s places an order for food to be delivered and you stop painting, joining him on the two couches in the living area. You both eat in silence.

“You should go in there.” Your eyes find his, turning your head to find where he’s looking.

Kai’s door.

You look back to your food and shake your head.

“Nope. Not happening.”

“Why not?”

“I should wait for the others. We should do it together.”

“I guess, but he’s your brother before he’s Ryujin’s boyfriend or Jungkook’s best friend, right? Doesn’t that give you something like, I don’t know, seniority?”

“You mean priority?”

“Yeah, that!” He laughs, but you shake your head again.

“It might, but I can’t do it, not without them,” you speak so sternly, trying to end the conversation, but he doesn’t let up.

“You made it here without them, didn’t you?”

“No, I made it here with you.”

“Perfect! You can go in there with me, then.”

He puts his food down, grabs yours, doing the same before standing up and holding out his hand again.

“You have to do it at some point, love. Might as well be now.” You shake your head again, but he grabs your hands and pulls you up with little resistance on your part. You let him drag you closer to the door, but freeze when you’re actually in front of it.

It suddenly looks larger than before, like the door to a boss fight in a video game. It's the final boss and you’re too low of a level. You shouldn’t enter.

“I can’t do it.” You breathe out, feeling your lungs starting to collapse.

“Do you not know the code?”

“No, I know the code. I just…” you look down at the pin pad as the crushing weight of panic starts to settle on your chest again, making you feel heavy.

“I’m going to open the door and he’s not going to be in there. It’ll be like watching him die all over again.”

His big hands find their way to your face, forcing you to look at him.

“The way I see it, the longer you wait, the more painful it’s going to be. Trust me, I waited months before going into Karin’s room, and I regret waiting that long.” His thumbs soothe back and forth against your cheekbones as you sniffle.

“You think it’ll be like watching him die all over again right now? I promise you it’ll be even worse if you keep waiting.”

Your head pulls away only slightly, but enough to have Yoongi’s hands follow and readjust as you look up at him.

“Karin?”

He gives the smallest nod with the saddest smile.

“My sister.”

You offer a small smile in return, a small part of you thrilled that he’s slowly starting to talk about her. He never once mentioned her by name in group therapy, only ever calling her his sister.

“It’s a pretty name…” you quietly whisper, earning a light laugh from him. His eyes dart between yours like they’re searching for a way out of the conversation.

“Do you want to tell me the code and I’ll put it in?”

You sigh, really not wanting to do this. But if he’s willing to bring up his sister to you? Actually, say her name? Who are you to deny him?

“0412” you quietly mumble, eyes shut tight.

He moves to stand in front of you, a hand grabbing yours. You squeeze it like a lifeline while he starts punching in the code. You hear the lock clicking to unlock and it’s when the door starts to open you find your nails digging into the hand in yours.

He lets the door swing open, stepping in just enough so he can find the light switch, turning it on and backing back out before turning to you again.

“You ready? We don’t have to, if it feels like I’m pressuring you, I don’t mean to. I just—”

“Yoongi. It’s okay.” You look past him and get a glimpse of Kai’s room. You can see his big computer setup as well as a few of his drawing tablets.

He’s not at his desk, crouched over trying to finish a project. Your heart falters a little, the pain still very much still there, but oddly not as bad as you feared it would’ve been.

Yoongi steps aside, letting you slowly take the four steps it takes to get into Kai’s room. You take a deep breath when you get to the center of the room, Yoongi right behind you.

It’s exactly as he’s left it. Just the same as you did right after finals. The four of you had been so busy trying to cram as much fun as possible in the summer, that none of you thought to come back to the studio once the year was over.

There are sketches tossed around this desk. A notepad that looks full of sketches and other things taped to the sheets inside as well as some pages folded into shapes sits by his mouse. The various tech he kept buying to help improve his work was piled into a corner of the room. He has the same set-up of a couch and a giant window looking out over the city.

You hear a ruffle of papers and turn to see Yoongi delicately holding some sketches that were on the couch.

Snap.

“No! Stop touching it!” You rush to him, roughly taking the papers out of his hand and putting them back on the table. You try to smooth the crinkles you made out without touching the sketch itself but you can’t and instead, the tears you didn’t know were present start to fall from your face, landing on Kai’s drawing.

You ruined his sketch. This could’ve been the most important sketch to him and you ruined it with your stupid tears. You ruined it just like you ruined everything else.

I’m always fucking ruining everything, such a goddamn worthless piece of shit.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, it’s ruined.” You gasp, ignoring the ice-cold tightness around your lungs returning.

Everything hit all at once - like you were being crushed by a freight train and the only moments you could breathe were in between the various train cars running across your chest.

You drop to your knees, curling in on yourself to be as small as possible, palms pushing against your closed eyes, fingers trying to plug your ears to silence the bloodcurdling noises in your head. You try to breathe, you know you can, but it’s like your lungs refuse to listen to your brain. Your heart refuses to calm down and your brain feels like it’s going to explode. Everything feels wrong and never-ending.

Make it stop, make it stop, please just make it stop.

Are you thinking it or shouting it? You can’t tell anymore. Nothing seems real anymore. It’s just darkness and pain. It feels like you’re going to die. Maybe that’s okay. You’ll get to see Kai again.

Please, just let this stop.

It hurts so fucking much.

You feel two hands gently pull your hands away from your eyes and ears. You try to open them, but everything is dark and fuzzy. You can barely make out the boy squatting down in front of you that’s terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing. He tries to wordlessly get you to match his breathing, but you can’t follow him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched it. I'm so fucking sorry. Come back to me, y/n. Fight through it, you’re right there.”

You’re right there.

No no no, you can’t think about that.

“Do you want the Ativan?” You hear him whisper and it takes so much energy to shake your head. You don’t want to be numb, you hate it.

Yoongi feels his heart pounding. He’s seen you have anxiety attacks, he’s seen you break down in group therapy, he’s seen your panic attacks, but he’s never seen one like this. He’s never heard you scream the things you’re screaming. It’s overwhelming and terrifying and he doesn’t know how to stop it, but he can’t just sit there and wait for you to come out of it. He wants to help. He needs to help. So he does the only thing he knows he can do to help steady your breathing.

Everything stops.

The voices, the tears, the pounding in your head, and your breathing all come to a halt the moment you feel his lips on yours.

It’s not romantic in any sense. His chapped lips are roughly pushed against yours that are wet with tears and hopefully not snot. There’s no movement save for his hands cupping your face, fingertips gently moving against the skin on the back of your neck.

The tightness around your lungs loosens and fades, and the pain in your head is back after the initial shock of the kiss, but it’s fading as well. Your pounding heart is now pounding for a different reason. You open your eyes to find his shut tight, tears barely escaping.

Your shaky hand reaches up, gently tugging his shirt. He slowly pulls away, eyes opening just enough to see your wide ones staring at him. Realizing what just happened, his hands drop from your face as he leans back some more, readying himself to stand back up.

“I’m so sor- sorry. I- I don’t know why…” you’ve never seen him stumble over words before. Sure, in group therapy he hesitates a lot, but that’s because he’s thinking of what to say next. This is different. This is fear.

He quickly stands up, trying not to disturb any of Kai’s things as he rushes out of the room. You stay seated on your knees, completely lost and confused about everything that just happened. It’s when you hear his keys being picked up that you force yourself to your feet and run out of your brother’s room, not even bothering to close the door.

When Yoongi starts to walk out of your room with his jacket halfway on, you’re already at the doorway. Your eyes are still wide, still processing what’s happening and what you are doing.

He looks afraid.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that without permission. I just, I didn’t know what to–”

Your lips are on his without a second thought, properly shutting him up. This kiss is a complete one-eighty from the previous, however. Your lips move against his, letting out a small gasp when his hands find your waist, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips and causing you both to moan. You tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to keep him close as you walk him back to your couch, the sound of his jacket dropping to the floor barely noticed.

The back of his legs hit the couch and he brings you down with him as he sits down, your legs on either side of his, lips never parting. His hands finally move from your waist, one reaching up for your face, holding you close, while the other grabs a handful of your ass, dragging you closer to him. You get the hint, grinding your hips against his and pulling away from his lips as he lets out a groan.

His hand tries to bring your lips back to his but you move down, leaving small kisses along his jaw, neck, and Adam's apple. You pause when you see the pendant again, still resting perfectly where it should be. You admire the initials MK, now understanding who they belong to. You kiss just below it on his chest, where his heart should be, feeling him relax under the touch of your lips as you slide off him, knees dropping to the floor.

“You don’t have to…” you look up to meet Yoongi’s worried eyes, a mixture of lust, concern, and something else that you can’t quite place. His hands find yours on his thighs. “We can stop if you want.”

You shouldn’t do this. You’re just reacting to the adrenaline and soon, you’ll crash in exhaustion. You should not do this. Not with Yoongi. You should stop.

You shake your head.

“Please?” Your voice finally makes a sound, but just barely. It’s almost grating. Yoongi waits a moment before leaning forward to cup your face in his hands, bringing you in for a soft kiss.

“Okay.” He whispers against your lips. “Whatever you want, love.” He kisses you once more, letting you sit back while he lifts his hips to take off his joggers and underwear. He tosses them aside, not caring about where they land when you’re crawling back to him

When you had sex with Yoongi the first time, you told him it was just sex. You told him the rules would be no kissing, no oral, and nothing that would be considered lovemaking or too intimate. He agreed, and it’s been fine for both of you.

Sure, sometimes he’d try to kiss you, but you wrote it off as him just being in the moment and were always able to deny him. You’ve given him a handjob, and he’s absolutely fingered you into oblivion, but never what you were about to do.

You lightly kiss his knee, urging him to spread his legs and scoot forward so you can fit between them, kissing up his soft thighs until you’re finally where you want to be. Your eyes meet his one more time for permission, waiting for the small nod he gives you before you gently hold his erection up, giving soft kisses and kitten licks up the base, the hisses coming from his mouth urging you to keep going as you reach the tip.

“Please don’t tease, love.” A hand finds its way into your hair and tugs as your tongue dances along the tip. You smile to yourself, laying your tongue flat and sliding him down your throat in one go until your nose barely touches his pelvis. The hand not tangled in your hair smacks down on the couch cushion beside him as he groans at the sudden overwhelming pleasure of your throat wrapped perfectly around him.

“Fuck. Just like that.” His hand in your hair brings you up for a moment before easing your mouth back down around his cock. You let out a small moan around him, letting your gag reflex kick in just enough to drag another groan out from his chest as you begin moving up and down, your hands gripping his thighs.

“Wait, wait, love, wait.” He pulls you off him, watching you take in a deep breath, a mixture of spit and precum trailing down your chin. “Fuck, get up here.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss you.

Yoongi pulls you back up to the couch, keeping your lips on his as you pull off your leggings before crawling back onto his lap. Big hands massage your thighs as you pull away long enough to remove your baggy sweater and bra, tossing them next to his pants. You surge forward to kiss him again but he doesn’t let you, hands sliding down your waist to hold you back a distance to admire your body.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” He whispers it mostly to himself, a hand trailing lower, his thumb gently stroking just above where you want him over your underwear. You both look down to watch as his thumb finds its destination, rubbing the cloth against your wet folds. You hear Yoongi let out a sigh; neither of you were aware he was holding.

“Tell me I can finally taste you, love.” Your eyes flit up to his half-closed ones.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t be doing any of this. You shouldn’t have let him kiss you, shouldn’t have kissed him back, shouldn’t have gone down on him, and you absolutely shouldn’t let him go down on you. You shouldn’t do this. You should tell him no and make him leave. Finish your painting and text Jungkook when you’re home.

Fuck, you’re going to have to text Jungkook later.

You need to send Yoongi home. Get him away from you.

End this.

End it now before it gets worse.

“Okay.” You nod, though the voices in your head are screaming at you. You ignore them, the feeling that Yoongi’s fingers provide feels too good, and you just want to feel good again after the pain in Kai’s room.

“Yeah?” Yoongi smiles, flipping you over to lay your back against the couch once you give him a small smile and another nod.

He barely gives you enough time to readjust before he’s burying his face between your legs, his tongue slowly dancing along the wet patch of your underwear, pausing only to listen to your moans.

“I could listen to your moans all day and never get tired of it.” You huff out a small laugh in response, a small gasp at the end when Yoongi lifts your hips enough to pull your underwear off.

Small wet kisses trail from your right knee to your inner thigh and are repeated on your left. Your breath catches with every kiss and it’s driving you crazy. You watch him as he kisses your lower stomach and anywhere he can that isn’t your glistening and throbbing center. He’s waiting. Waiting for you to say he can have you. Your hand reaches for his head, tugging his hair.

“Stop…” you breathe out. He sits up immediately, hovering over you.

“Stop? What happened? What’s wrong? What did I do? I’m sorry, I—”

“No.” You kiss him to shut up, “stop teasing. I can’t take it.”

The laugh he lets out is going to haunt you later. But for now, it’s music to your ears and you even join in as his head drops to your neck, kissing it once before moving back down.

He doesn’t even wait, licking straight up your folds before latching around your clit.

“Fuck!” You buck your hips up and his arms wrap around your hips, keeping you down as he devours you like a man starved.

You knew he was insanely good with his fingers, you didn’t expect this though. To be turned into a moaning mess just from his mouth. The intense pleasure builds up so fast and so harshly that you can barely hear him, only feel him moaning against your pussy. It’s when he inserts two fingers while sucking harshly on your clit that you lose it.

“Yoongi, I’m gonna…” your hands return to his hair, but instead of pulling him away from you, you press him closer, encouraging him to continue. “I”m close, Yoongi. Don’t fucking stop.”

He groans against you and it doesn’t take long before you’re coming undone for him, unable to control your hips or the tight grip you have on his hair. You come hard, tears spilling from your eyes as you try to remember how to breathe. You haven’t come this hard in months, writing it off immediately as not having anyone go down on you since Jihyo.

Yoongi doesn’t pull away until you’ve come down from your orgasm, almost bringing out a second one just because he can. But your whimpers from the overstimulation force him away, crawling back over you to kiss you again.

“You okay to keep going?” He mumbles his question against your lips and skin as he trails down your neck, settling behind your ear. He feels you nod against him and with one more kiss, he crawls off of you in search of his wallet in his jacket to get a condom.

You shouldn’t do this. You should tell him you’ve changed your mind. He should leave. You’ve already broken so many rules, rules you made with him that you just tossed out the window in a moment of weakness. When he comes back, you should push him away, ban his lips from yours, make him get dressed and leave.

Finish your painting.

Text Jungkook.

You’re doing it again, you’re hurting him. You told him it was just sex.

You lied.

Fuck, why did you lie again?

You shouldn’t let Yoongi kiss you anymore.

You shouldn’t.

But his lips are addicting and you crave them.

So when he comes back, the condom already rolled over his erection, you pull him down to you by his shirt, capturing his lips with yours. His hands wander your body as he settles between your legs, letting one hand grab your hip while the other guides his cock to your entrance, rubbing the head against your clit and swallowing your moans. When he pulls away from your lips for what feels like the last time, he looks up at you, soft eyes widening briefly as if he just realized what was happening.

“Hey…”

“Hi…” you whisper back, one of your hands leaving the tight grasp on his shirt to toy with the little pendant dangling from his neck.

“We’re breaking every rule, y/n…” The hand that was positioning himself moves up to push a piece of hair out of your face. You offer a sad smile in return.

“I know.” your voice is barely audible, trying to keep it together.

“We should stop.” But he doesn’t move.

“We should,” and neither do you, “but…”

“But?” an eyebrow raises and you can’t look at him anymore, focusing only on the pendant.

“I don’t want to.” The words barely squeak out of you. When he doesn’t respond, you have to force yourself to look back at him. “To stop, I mean. I don’t…I don’t want to stop.” Eyes cast back down to the pendant. “If you don’t want to, I mean.”

You feel his eyes on you as the silence continues.

He suggested stopping first, so he probably wanted to stop. You shouldn’t have said anything and just stopped like he clearly wanted to. Now he probably thinks he has to go through with it just to make you happy. Why the hell did you say you didn’t want to stop?

You need to stop, and you shouldn’t continue.

But wanting to stop and needing to stop are two very different things.

“I want to if you want to, y/n. This is all your decision, love.”

You take a deep breath, biting your lower lip as you look down admiring the man on top of you. You’re completely naked, but he still has his shirt on, covering up the scars you’ve only gotten glimpses of. You snake a hand down to crawl underneath the shirt, gently running the pads of your fingers across the part of a scar you have seen. Yoongi’s breath catches in his throat as he rests his forehead against yours, eyes shut. You feel his abs tensing, like they’re scared of you, before relaxing against your touch. You watch him for a moment, unable to look anywhere else.

Suddenly want and need are the same thing.

Suddenly this is more than sex.

This is more than feelings.

This is comfort. Safety. A need and a want to feel again; to not be afraid all of the time. And to forget.

Yoongi is that for you whether you want to admit it or not. Jungkook is your safety blanket, he’s what keeps you warm and tucked away when you’re scared. But a safety blanket can be suffocating sometimes. You need room to breathe, to forget and do stupid shit you’re afraid of, knowing there’s someone by your side feeling the same way.

Yoongi.

“Okay.” You whisper, placing a small kiss on his nose. His eyes fly open to meet yours. A grin threatening to escape.

“Okay? You’re okay with this?” He returns your nose kiss when you say yes, peppering your face with more after.

Once you’re giggling from the kiss attack, he lines himself back up with you, slowly pushing in. You wrap your arms around him as he buries his face in your neck, leaving little love bites that you’ll regret later but love for now.

This stretch is different that the other times you’ve had sex with Yoongi. Usually, it’s fast and rough, barely enough time to feel the stretch or adapt to it. This time, Yoongi takes it slow, pushing in inch by inch until he is fully buried inside of you. He stills for a moment, kissing along your neck.

“So tight, so perfect.” He mumbles against your throat, smiling when he feels your breath catch in your throat after he slowly pulls out and rolls his hips back into you as deep as possible. Your nails dig into his shoulders at the sensation and your back arches up towards him.

He takes it agonizingly slowly. You love it for the new sensation of pleasure it gives, but you hate it because it’s allowing you to think.

“Yoongi. Harder, please.” You moan out, a hand finding its way to his blonde hair and tangling your fingers in it. You feel a puff of air against your neck when Yoongi brings himself up to look at you.

“If we’re breaking your rules, love. We’re breaking all of them.”

You whine, bringing his grinning lips back to yours in a searing kiss.

“Please, Yoongi. I need it.” You beg.

You never beg, not with him. Every time you had sex, you would become the sweet submissive that didn’t speak unless told to when he would ruin you in his bed. Which was fine, it was part of the last rule. Nothing near lovemaking or too intimate. And hard, rough, and silent felt like the perfect method to avoid breaking that rule.

“Please.” Your lips trail from his to his chin, “ruin me like usual, please. Please, I just want to feel you.” You kiss along his jaw and down to the column of his neck.

“Please?”

He says nothing, but you feel the growl in his throat against your lips. He takes your hand away from his hair, bringing your other hand with it, pinning them both above your head. He rests his forehead against yours again, taking a deep breath before slamming his hips into yours without warning. You yelp a moan and he lets out a breathy laugh as he does it again.

“Is that what you want?” He does it again. “You want me to destroy this perfect cunt?” Another harsh thrust, rolling his hips so he gets deeper than before. “Want me to make it mine?”

“Yes. Yes, Yoongi, please. More.” You cry out, writhing underneath him, trying to make more friction.

He picks up the pace, and it feels back to what it was. Yoongi relentlessly fucking you, flipping you over at one point to be on your hands and knees as he takes you from behind, spanking you until your ass turns red.

When you alert him to being close to coming, his hand slides under you to rub circles against your clit. He pants, leaning over to place kisses on your shoulder as you come undone, clenching around him and losing the ability to hold yourself up. His orgasm quickly follows yours, spilling into the condom.

It’s silent for a moment, both of you struggling to breathe. After what felt like an hour, but was probably not even two minutes, Yoongi finds the strength to pull out, removing the condom and throwing it away. He rubs the parts of your skin that are red and sore, quietly apologizing when you wince.

“I’m going to find something to clean you up with, okay?” You slowly nod at his whisper, eyes feeling heavy, all the emotions suddenly becoming a pile of exhaustion.

It’s like your brain’s putting on a presentation being your eyelids, replaying the phone call with Jungkook, the panic attack in Kai’s room, the split-second decision to stop Yoongi from leaving, and the words said between you two.

You fucked up.

Again.

You don’t hear him leave the room, and barely notice his return or the feeling of him cleaning you or helping you get your sweater and underwear back on, too mentally and physically exhausted to do or say anything.

You do feel when he lays down on the couch, bringing you against him for the usual after-sex cuddle. His arm snakes around your back, resting on your waist while yours rests on his stomach, your face burying into his neck.

“You’re going to regret this later, aren’t you?” His voice is a low whisper, almost scared of asking. Your fingers find the hemline of his shirt, playing with the fabric and the loose threads.

“I don’t know…” Your reply is weak, cracking on the final word, and you can feel the tears start to form. So you shut your eyes, holding them back and instead listening to his breathing.

He doesn’t respond, just holds you closer and he seems to fall asleep, you joining a moment later.

When you wake up a few hours later, you and Yoongi have barely moved. His hand found a way up to your hair and the other hand was placed on your arm that was draped across his stomach. It felt warm, almost safe, but wrong.

So slowly, you pull yourself away from him, slipping off the couch without waking him up and sneak out to the little kitchen. Your hands shake as you pour out a glass of water, drinking as much as you can in one go. You repeat it two more times before your eyes land on the open door to your brother’s room. The sharp tug on your heart forces you to walk in.

It looks different than it did a few hours ago. Darker, abandoned, but still familiar. You sit in his chair, spinning slowly around to admire the way he decorated the studio.

A giant whiteboard with ideas that you don’t understand listed with random drawings you and Ryujin made one night in the bottom right corner. You did that months before finals, and he never erased them. Behind the whiteboard, was a wall painted completely in blackboard paint. He spent an entire day with Jungkook painting that wall before he realized how much he hated chalk. It quickly became doodle central, where the four of you drew randomly while bored or in a funk.

Right above the couch is one of the first drawings you did on the wall, an ambigram of the first letter of your names. Jungkook half-jokingly suggested the group get it tattooed one day.

This room is the same layout as yours, but rather than having the giant window wall showing the city below, he had wall-to-floor shades that would cover during the daytime so he wouldn’t have any glare on his monstrous computer setup. He always got so dramatic when you or Ryujin would try to use it, but never with Jungkook.

You reach out to turn it on, but freeze as your finger barely brushes over it.

They should be here. Ryujin should be here.

You pull your hand away, bringing your knees to your chest and hugging yourself in his chair as it spins a little from the adjustment.

“I miss you, baby brother. So much.” You softly whisper, leaning your head back and staring at the ceiling plastered with tiny plastic stars that are supposed to glow in the dark, but never do thanks to the heavy shades.

“I think I messed up tonight. But when am I not messing up, right?” A weak chuckle escapes your lips. “Y/n y/l/n, the screw-up of the family. Always finding a way to ruin a good thing in the biggest way possible…” you feel the tears slowly fall down your face and sniffle.

“But I think…I think this time, I really screwed up. And I can’t fix it. And I don’t know what to do.” You feel a small burn on your hand and look down to find yourself scratching the back of your hand again.

“Fuck. I hate this, Kai.” You mumble, soothing the burn with your thumb. “I need your help and it’s killing me that you’re not here.”

You sigh when there’s no response, forcing yourself out of his chair, stepping out of his room, and closing the door.

Yoongi is still fast asleep on your couch, a sharp stabbing feeling piercing your heart at the sight of him. He looks so content and at peace that you’re jealous of his ability to sleep so soundly without the voices yelling.

Your attention turns to the easel in the center of the room with the canvas barely painted. The paint still looks like various shades of black and white. Like a blurry mess of colors that you know are there but can’t see.

You pick it up, moving the easel away and propping the canvas against the pile of finished paintings on the floor. Dimming the lights, you sit down in front of it on the floor, putting your AirPods in and turning your Spotify on shuffle.

You bring up the photo of the tree you took earlier and set it next to the canvas and roll up your sleeves. You grab a brush, dip it in a random paint Yoongi picked out earlier, take a deep breath, and just go for it.

Somehow two hours have passed, and you’re applying the finishing touches, music still blasting in your ears so loud that you jump when you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders.

You turn to see a sleepy Yoongi tilting his head at you, mouth moving. You pause the music, take the AirPods out and place them next to your phone.

“Sorry for scaring you.” His voice is rough from the nap and you can’t help but smile when he kisses your temple.

“It’s okay.” You nod, letting out a small gasp when he sits behind you, lifting and pulling you back to sit on his lap, and scooting forward so you can keep painting. His arms wrap around your waist, letting them rest on your lap while his chin rests on your shoulder.

“Looks good, love.”

“I still can’t see the colors, though.” You mumble as you lean back into his chest to get a better view of the canvas, his arms tightening around you as you do.

“That doesn’t matter. It’s still beautiful.” He holds you close, leaving a few feather kisses on your shoulder, smiling to himself when he sees your skin grow goosebumps.

“What colors did you put on the palette anyway? Just so I have an idea of whatever the hell this is.” His laugh against your skin makes you smile in return. You pull one of his arms away from you, laying it flat and upside down on your lap as you use the brush to paint across his forearm, hoping you’d be able to see the color.

“I can’t tell you, love. You’ll know when you’re ready to see it. But it is a beautiful tree. Why’d you pick it?”

“It’s the giant oak tree in the middle of campus. We scheduled our classes together so there was always a time when we could sit together and just hang out, work on assignments, enjoy the weather, anything really. Always at the tree. It’s in Kai’s logo, it’s Jungkook’s favorite thing to photograph. Ryujin literally designed a dress based on this dumb tree.” You laugh, continuing to paint on his arm. You can’t see what color you’re using, but guessing from how dark it is, it’s something that contrasts perfectly with his skin.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well,” his free arm unwraps from your waist, grabbing a different brush and painting music notes across the top of your thigh near your knee. “They all have the tree attached to something with their art. A hidden meaning of inspiration…what’s yours?”

You watch him paint on your leg what looks to be a specific pattern of music notes.

“I…I don’t know,” you admit with a whisper, putting your paintbrush down and resting your hands in your lap. “It’s just where I knew I could always find any of them. There or here, my safety zones.”

“So then this piece, even though you can’t see the colors right now, and the feeling of safety with it…that’s your hidden meaning and inspiration.”

You sigh, sinking a little further against his chest. You stare at the canvas, trying to see anything in the tree that, to you, is just a black and white tree on a canvas surrounded by colorful paintings all around it. A hideous darkness amongst bright and beautiful colors.

How you feel every day without your brother by your side.

“I guess.” You finally say, eyes flicking to his hand, putting the brush down and returning around your waist. You both stay silent for a moment, admiring your canvas. Your eyelids start to feel heavy, and you can feel them closing when you hear Yoongi speak.

“Fall was Karin’s favorite time of year.”

You freeze, eyes flying open at the mention of his sister.

“Yeah?” your voice cracks, and if Yoongi notices it, he ignores it.

“Yeah. She was obsessed with the colors of the leaves, the fall drinks like that disgusting pumpkin spice latte, the fall outfits, the weather, all of it. It would've been fall if she could have one season all year round.”

You don’t respond. The feeling of happiness over him talking about his sister was too overwhelming. He rarely discussed her in group therapy, never spoke her name until tonight, and always changed the conversation topic .

“We would go to the pumpkin patch every year and pick out the quote ‘undesirable’ pumpkins, and she’d make pumpkin pie with my mom.” He laughs, but it’s sad. You want to turn around and comfort him, but you stay frozen in his arms, your thumb pressing into the space between your other thumb and index finger.

“She wanted to learn how to bake so badly. To be like our mother and know all the family recipes. She wanted to be the one to make all the Christmas cookies every year, to be in charge of pies during the holidays, make everyone’s birthday cakes…”

His voice trails off, burying his face into your shoulder in an attempt to hide from the silence. Your mind is racing with different things to say. You have no idea how to comfort him. No idea how to tell him he’ll be okay. How can you? When you don’t even believe it when someone says it to you? So you say the only thing you can think of.

“I make a mean pumpkin pie.”

You can feel his torso shake as he laughs against your shoulder. He lifts his head, resting his cheek on your shoulder so he can look at you.

“Yeah? You bake?”

“Sometimes. Or I used to, before Kai… I would stress bake.”

“Stress baking? That’s new.” You shake your head slightly.

“Not really. I don’t know. There’s just something satisfying about baking when stressed. It’s like you’re baking your problems into the baked goods, and then you let other people eat it, thus taking away the stress.”

“Hmm…I like that. Telling everyone your secrets without saying a word.” His voice is quiet as his hands slide away from your waist, landing on your hands.

He pulls them apart, fingers intertwining with both, and goes back to hugging you, technically making you hug yourself. You slouch further against him, his lips right next to your ear.

“Would you want to go to a pumpkin patch with me?” His voice is hesitant. He knows he’s walking a fine line in asking you to go out with him. But he has to at least try.

You lean to the side a little, turning to look at the man whose arms are wrapped around you and whose lap you’re sitting in. Your eyes meet, and you can’t help but melt under his gaze. It’s warm and hopeful, and you want so badly to give in to the chance that maybe it could work.

You should say no.

End this.

End it now and pretend nothing ever happened.

End this.

“Okay,” your answer is barely audible to either of you, but his soft smile that he’s trying to hide confirms that he did hear you.

“Okay.” He repeats it back, giving a small nod against your shoulder.

You bring your gaze back to the painting, no longer trying to see the colors, just needing an excuse to not look at him anymore. You lose your sense of reasoning around him, and you hate it. But you love having him around. There’s no winning situation when it comes to Yoongi, especially if Jungkook finds out.

“Hey.” Yoongi’s voice pulls you out of your little mental spiral, and you look back at him, blinking away the tears you hadn’t noticed forming. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod quickly, making him let go of one of your hands so you can quickly wipe the tears. “I don’t know. It’s just a lot happening at once. I don’t know what’s what anymore.”

“That’s fair. But it’s okay, love. I’m here as long as you need me.”

You wish he didn’t say that.

You don’t reply, instead just giving another small nod. The hand that lets go of yours reaches up for your cheek, turning you to stay facing him.

“I know this is all happening at once, y/n. We’ve both been through something really shitty, and maybe this is a terrible idea.” Your eyes widen in panic, you know where this is going and immediately start preparing for a way out.

“But I think it goes without saying that I really like–”

You thank every god to ever exist when your phone rings. You lean forward to grab the device, saving you from an awkward conversation, sliding off his lap in the process.

Incoming Call: 🍞Ry-Bread👗

“Oh, fuck,” you stand up, eyes flicking from your phone to Yoongi sitting on the floor, looking confused and almost hurt, and back to your phone.

“I’m sorry. She…she rarely calls now,” you mutter, answering the phone before he can say anything and stepping into the living area.

“Ry? Everything okay?” You ask hesitantly, pacing around the couch.

The last time she called was three weeks ago, sobbing hysterically about how Kai’s death wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t date Jihyo. If you had just stopped sleeping or dating around, your brother wouldn’t be dead. So naturally, you’re terrified of what’s to come from the other line.

“Y/n? Y/n, I need you. I fucked up. Please, y/n. I know you hate me. I’m sorry. I’m so so so sorry. But please, I need you.”

Well, that’s different.

“Ry, where are you?”

“I’m at a club. The one by my work.” She sounds so broken and so drunk that your heart feels heavy just listening to her.

“What happened, Ry? Are you safe? Are you okay?” You put the phone on speaker and return to your room, walking right past Yoongi sitting on the couch, pants already back on. You put the phone on the table as you search for your leggings and bra.

“I’m okay. I just…my ride left me, and I can’t…I can’t get home.” Her mumbles are soft, tired, and hard to understand as you toss your clothes on, quickly moving to find your bag and keys.

“Are there any Ubers or taxis in the area?”

“No. Just come get me, please.”

“Okay, Ry, I’m on the way. Please, stay in the club until I’m there, okay? Promise me?” She softly agrees, and you hang up the phone, finally turning to Yoongi, who’s ready to go.

“Is she okay?” he questions as if he didn’t just listen to your phone call.

“I think so? I don’t know. This is new. I have to go get her.”

“You’re going to walk over there?”

“I have no choice, Yoongi.” Your shoulders shrug as you usher him out the door and close it behind you, leaving the canvas behind. you decide it’s easier to just come back for it before class than going to a club with it in your hand. You make sure all the lights are off before locking up the front door as you both exit.

“You do have a choice, y/n. The bus should still be running.”

“I’m not getting on the bus.”

“I’m sure there’s a rideshare in this area.”

“I’m not letting a stranger drive.” You state as you both get in the elevator.

“We can go back to the library, I’ll get my car, and I can take you over there and take you two home.”

“I’ve never experienced you driving. You’re as much of a stranger in that department as any taxi driver.” You bite back, quickly exiting when the elevator reaches the bottom floor.

“Not if you let me try.”

“I don’t want you to try. I don’t need help right now, Yoongi. I just need to get to Ryujin. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you on Saturday.” You walk faster out the front door, turning down the sidewalk in the direction of Ryujin’s work. It’s not that far from the studio, but it’s starting to get chilly out, and your sweater is thin.

“Y/n, it’s one in the morning. You’re not walking by yourself! I’ll come with you.” Yoongi practically shouts as he tries to catch up to you.

“I’ll be fine.” You snap, turning to him when he finally does make it to you. That same look of confusion and hurt from earlier looks like the same look you often see on another man’s face, and you have to stop yourself and take a breath.

“I need to help her alone, Yoongi. It’s the opposite direction of the school so it’s better if you just go home and I’ll go find Ry and take her home. I’ll be fine.”

“Y/n, you’re insane if you think I’m going to let you go alone.”

“Then I guess I’m insane!” You shout, not giving a damn about the time or the fact that you’re outside.

“Thank you, Yoongi, for helping me finish my painting. Thank you for forcing me to go into Kai’s room, and thank you for helping me through my panic attack. But, fuck, I have to go, so just drop it and go home. I’ll text you when I get there if you want.”

Yoongi sighs, not wanting to bother with arguing with you. He knows he won’t win.

“Fine. But if anything feels off, let me know, and I’ll be there immediately.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” He snaps with an extra hint of an attitude. You ignore it as you both turn to walk in the opposite direction of one another.

You’re going to have to apologize later. You’re always apologizing. It’s exhausting.

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