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philliamwrites · 2 years

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SWYAATL 12: Raised by Wolves and Voices

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x fem! Reader

Summary: “Wouldn’t that be something.” Jean sniffs, his breath coming out in white plums. “Erasing events from the past, making stuff never have happened. You’d have to be, like, God or something to do that.” “I don’t know. I get you’d want the unpleasant stuff gone, but it’s what makes you the person you are today, right? Even all the bad stuff, I don’t think I’d want that just taken away from me.” Especially without you knowing.

Notes: [01] || 11 | 13

Words: 8.1k

A/N: guys, thank you so so much for all the interest in the story and the love and the messages you send me. there are no words how much i love you guys, you all deserve an eren to kiss you ❤️❤️

Chapter 12: Raised by Wolves and Voices

“Psst, dude.” Connie’s pointy elbow does a pretty good job drilling a hole into your side. “Take a look.”

“I’m kinda busy here myself,” you say, knocking your elbow against his arm, the tips of your fingers stained ink blue. It quickly turns into a fight of who can keep their arm on the table that nobody seems to win. Turns out, Connie is a formidable opponent.

“Just a quick look,” he whispers. “I don’t get what’s wrong with my notes.” He slides a piece of paper over to you, and you need some time to decipher the words.

Supplie Requasition Bread: A bunch Potatos: Around 5 boxes? Milk: Not spoiled Blades: Enough to attack Titans Gas: A good amount

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t get it either.”

At that moment, Shadis passes your table and takes a look at Connie’s requisition paper. “Now, would you all look at Cadet Springer,” he calls, turning to the room. He plucks the paper from the table by one corner with his thumb and index finger as if it was something particularly filthy he spotted under his kitchen sink. “That is what I call unique!”

Connie beams. “Thanks, sir!”

“Uniquely shit!!”

“Oh.”

“Do it again!”

Shadis marches on, sharp eyes searching for his next prey like a hawk. Connie sags against the backrest of his chair, groaning. “Why do I gotta do this stupid stuff? Put me out in the field, that’s where I belong.”

“Even out in the field, you should have a good feeling for the supplies you have on you.” You finish up your concluding statement on Bordieun Field Theory as an Instrument for Military Operations. You’d hoped to have Armin give it a read, but he’s already left for lunch. When you submit the paper to Shadis, he simply acknowledges it with a curt nod and shoos you away like an annoying fly.

“Oh, come on, don’t leave me here,” Connie whines when you pack up your stuff to head over to the canteen where the rest of your corps is already enjoying their break. “I’ll never finish at this rate.”

“You can do it.” You pat his shaved head. “Try to think about it in actual numbers and be specific as you put them down. It’s fine if you do it in your own words.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

You leave him slumped over his work and set out snuggled into your warm military coat, upturning your collar to help against the biting cold. The canteen is on the opposite side of the lesson building, but the frosty cobblestone plaza makes the jog take much longer. One false step will guarantee you bruises nastier than any handed to you during hand-to-hand combat practice.

It’s a busy day on the Main Compound. Many cadets and full-fledged soldiers linger, and you pass a group of third years near the main entrance, their hands all stuffed deep inside the warmth of their coat pockets. They jostle and bump against one another, laughing, stamping their feet against the cold snap, the first gasp of winter having arrived weeks earlier than anticipated. You recognise Sylvia, who salutes in your direction. You tap two fingers against your temple as a reply. It is her last winter as a cadet before she graduates in spring next year. The 104th has only one more year to go, and then you will be full-fledged soldiers as well.

Just one more year until the people you have grown close to all walk the paths to their distinctive futures like the last leaves clinging desperately to their familiar branches, but unable to hold on as the sharp, cold winter wind scatters them to new horizons. Time waits for no one, yet still you wish you could have a little more with the friends you have made.

You duck under the stone archway and join the constant stream of soldiers entering the canteen. It is a wide, high-ceilinged building running all the way to the far back of the compound and housing dozens upon dozens of long, narrow tables and benches. On one side, behind multiple counters spread with different meals, garnishes and a diverse assortment of drinks and juices, kitchen hands and scullions scurry from workplace to workplace, tending to the soldiers standing in line to pile as much food as they can carry on their rectangular tin plates. The vast assortment is exactly why you prefer eating here: hearty cabbage potato stew, freshly baked bread unlike the hardened leftovers you get at your mess hall. The smell of garlicky, grilled leek wafts from one end of the long counter. They might have made a pact with the devil for all the additional seasoning on their hands, seeing as one of the cooks drops a pinch of what looks like dried dill into a huge pot of boiled potatoes in a thick herb cream.

After a quick survey of the room you find your desired table and quickly get into line to fetch your meal. Tray filled to the brim with little plates carrying various dishes, you make your way through the crowd, accidentally bumping into people and dodging flying elbows with swift steps Shadis would be proud of.

They’ve settled at tables at the very far end of the room, the only set where only two benches stand by the tables so whenever cadets seize them, they usually push them together so more people can sit, facing each other. When you are within reach, you give everyone a single, respectful nod, except Eren and Jean. The first gets a small bowl full of pickled radishes, the latter a plate piled to the edges with thickly sliced carrots.

“Comrades,” you say, all haughty, your chin raised when you sit down next to Jean. The look on his face is one of unabashed, utter disgust. Eren’s face is full of contemplation as if he is debating if it’s worth it to reach over the table and slap you.

They both, without a word or another acknowledgement of your benevolence, pass the plates on to Sasha who gives a happy chirp and dives right in. You shake your head, stirring gravy into your mashed potatoes. “Where’s Armin?” you ask.

“The library,” comes from Mikasa. You have learnt she is a person of few words but a whole catalogue of looks. The one she sends Eren now is worth an hour of chiding in itself. “Said he was looking for something for the upcoming Snow Trekking Exam.”

“Aren’t they throwing way too many exams around lately?” says Samuel. He keeps throwing urgent gazes towards the main entrance as if waiting for someone. Everyone seems a little on edge, waiting for the news from the Post Master that letters and packages from friends and relatives have finally arrived. You are eager as well. Maybe this time, Ida and Felix have sent an answer.

“We are getting close to starting our third year,” Reiner says. He is stirring lazily in a big cup of steaming tea, his plate lying forgotten beside him even though he has only finished half of it. “It’s only normal that tasks get harder, that we get more exams. They want to make sure the next batch of soldiers is strong and capable.” His eyes linger on Mikasa for a moment, almost a little thoughtful. It is no secret that she remains the undisputed number one cadet and in whatever military branch she will end up, she will rise in rank quickly.

He then turns his keen eyes on you, and grins. “Have you given it a second thought? It’s the third time you’re in the top ten now. You could hold rank eight with a little more, consistent effort.”

You are spared answering when Armin, his face half-hidden behind thick layers of his wool scarf, emerges from the sea of soldiers and joins you, three thick books slipping from his arms onto the table. You pick one by its corners, pulling it close so you can read the title. Operations in Snow and Extreme Cold.

Eren leans in close to you, oblivious to the fabric of his black sweatshirt hanging dangerously close to his plate. The expression he is wearing is distinctly one of Not in front of my salad. “What’s this?” he asks, frowning.

“It’s a book,” you say, flipping open the first pages to skim through it. “You should pick up one and read it.”

“Or I could just smack you with it.”

“So eloquent.”

The corners of his mouth tug upward, as if he is trying to fight the grin that is trying to break free but he is also aware of how bad his performance is in this battle. For the first time, he looks as if he doesn’t mind losing this particular fight.

Armin takes the book from your reach before Eren can put his words into action and start mauling people with it. Eren leans back, sulking. “I was just looking for some easy reads on snow operations,” Armin says. “It’s the first time we’re really out there and I want to be prepared.”

“Shadis gave us a really long lecture this time,” says Samuel. “I dunno, kinda makes me want to skip it, pretend I got the flu or something.”

“It’ll be dangerous, for sure.” Reiner pushes his remaining meal over to Bertholdt who accepts it without a word and starts munching on a lettuce leaf. It makes him look like a baby goat. “He said we’ll spend every lesson until the exam date going over survival guides, gear check, map reading. Everything to prepare us to survive the worst.”

Jean rolls his eyes. “I don’t get the big deal, it’s like he’s thinking the moment we step out into the cold, we’ll all get lost.”

“Well, the books state that when operations fail it is mostly due to human error,” Armin pipes up, struggling to get out of his sleeve until Mikasa grabs onto one tail and tugs his arm free. “Soldiers underestimating the cold, not taking enough gear with them or unable to start a fire out in the open at fifty degrees below zero.” A sort of excitement settles over him as he recites the books’ contents. “They all state that in operations outside the Walls during winter, more soldiers die from hypothermia than attacks from wild animals or Titans.”

“But we are instructed to stay together, right?” Samuel sits up a little straighter now, more alert. “This isn’t like the previous exams where we have to split up and every group gets their own task?”

“That’s probably next year.” Jean grins. “You know, if you make it through this one.”

He cackles at Samuel’s horrid expression, earning a gentle nudge with his elbow from Marco who is stuffing his cheeks full with potatoes. He looks like a squirrel.

Samuel opens his mouth to answer, but then something from the entrance catches his sight and he half-stands from the bench, staring eagerly. Multiple heads turn around, watching Connie hurry down the aisle towards the table swinging around a handful of letters.

“The mail carriers have finally arrived!” he announces, throwing himself in the free seat and right into Sasha. She half-chokes on a mouthful of radishes.

Immediately, Samuel is on his feet, tray in his head. “Godspeed, comrades,” he dismisses you all, and vanishes towards the kitchen ladies near the kitchen sinks to drop off his empty plates.

Jean and you share a glance, and shoving the plates to the edge of the table, Jean elbows you out of the way. When he stands, he stretches like a cat and spreads his arms wide. “You think Mom sent us some chocolate? It should be that time the vendor from Yalkell visits Trost.”

You finish your meal quickly, wolfing it down like a starved woman. “I hope whatever it is isn’t as bad as your Dad’s try at those vegetable cookies.”

Jean shudders. “Yeah, I don’t think Mom should have left him unsupervised.”

“I don’t even remember the last time I had chocolate,” Marco thinks out loud. “After, you know—,” he begins, throwing a quick, unsure glance at Eren, Mikasa and Armin opposite him, then at you, “—after we lost Wall Maria, chocolate got really, really expensive.”

“I don’t get it,” Eren says. “What’s so special about it?”

You throw him a curious glance over the rim of your cup. “You don’t like it?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never had chocolate before.”

You gasp theatrically, and lean forward to place a hand on his shoulder. You feel him slightly tense under your touch, his muscles turning hard, his skin warm under the fabric. “That is the saddest thing I have ever heard.”

“Do you want me to hit you?”

A small, private smile catches you off-guard and you glance down, hoping he won’t see it.

Rapid foot tapping against the wooden floor, the tell-tale sign of Jean’s impatience, finally drives you out of your seat, surrendering it to Armin who, in his hunger for information, forgot to get food and rushes over to get some.

You follow Jean outside where another wave of cold air closes like a fist around your lungs. The Military Post Office is the last one in a neat row of small, copper brick buildings designated to everything related to civil relations and administration.

The Post Master behind the counter is a wiry and thin man with a thick moustache and a weathered kerchief tied around his neck. He’s missing two teeth at the bottom, and after you finally make it to the front, he greets you with a wet cough, before asking in a gritty voice, “Name, District.”

“Kirschstein and [Last Name],” Jean says. Hands tucked into his coat pockets, he is bobbing up and down on his heels as if he’s hoping he might lift off. “Trost District.”

The Post Master wobbles for a moment, and you share a worried look with Jean. But he manages to stay on his feet, runs a gnarly finger over a long list until he finds your names, then turns around and goes to the back room to fetch your mailings. He returns with two big packages he can barely carry by himself, and drops them unceremoniously onto the counter. A big, wet snuffle is the only goodbye you get as you reach for your respective packages before other cadets behind you push you to the side for their turn.

Your fingers itch to rip the package open, dig through the presents, even though Wîhe Naht is weeks away, and read Ida’s reply. Three more hours to go before you can trek back to your barracks and snuggle up in your bed, share the sweets and toys from Felix with Mina and then hide under your warm blanket for whatever their response holds in store for you as the other girls prepare for bed.

Jean, feeling your agitation, glances at you sideways. “It’s gonna be fine,” he remarks. “Whatever Mom and Dad are saying in their letter, it’s in the past now anyway.”

“I’m aware letting it go would be easier,” you say, balancing the box from carrying it on one side to the other as if you were holding dynamite. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it happened. I just want closure, that’s all.”

“Wouldn’t that be something.” Jean sniffs, his breath coming out in white plums. “Erasing events from the past, making stuff never have happened. You’d have to be, like, God or something to do that.”

“I don’t know. I get you’d want the unpleasant stuff gone, but it’s what makes you the person you are today, right? Even all the bad stuff, I don’t think I’d want that just taken away from me.” Especially without you knowing.

When there’s no answer, you look up at Jean. He’s trying to stifle a yawn—not very discreetly. At the glare you send him, Jean just shrugs. “What. It’s too cold and I’m too tired to engage in a philosophical debate with you. Go ask Armin.”

Back in the classroom, you are only half a step over the threshold when your corpsmates’ heads turn toward you like hungry wolves smelling their prey. You don’t know when it has become tradition to share sweets and candies—at least by those who regularly receive gift packages from their families. Did it start with Mina’s Klippfisch or Hannah’s glacéed walnuts?

You watch as Jean, who has quickly turned it into a lucrative business, bargains with Connie and Franz what duties they would take over for him next week, when an impulse strikes you, sparking you into action like flint igniting a fire.

With your target nowhere in sight, you know one person who can answer the question about his whereabouts. Mikasa is sitting by the window, watching snowflakes whirl past in an angry flurry. She has a thoughtful gaze about her, as if even though the landscape before her is blindingly white, only she can discern the pictures hidden within. Memories, maybe. Her slender fingers play with loose threads of her red scarf. Armin, sitting beside her, is curled over an open book and doesn’t notice you approaching.

“Have you guys seen Eren?” you ask, already knowing that one definitely knows where he is. Mikasa breaks her gaze away from the window, blinking up at you dazedly as if she is waking up from a long dream. Not for the first time, she is considering you with a blank expression. You just don’t know what test you’re currently under and what might happen should you not pass.

“He’s just left the room,” she says, grey eyes darting to the exit. “Do you need something?”

“Nothing important.” You’re already half turned towards your new destination, swiping your hand over their desk and leaving two pieces of chocolate. Mikasa eyes it with a little suspicion, as if she doesn’t understand what it is until she picks it up. A half smile tugs at her lips. You don’t know if you’ve ever really seen her smile at anyone else except Armin and Eren.

You leave her nibbling on the chocolate, quietly trying to rouse Armin from his reading spree to make him eat his piece. The hallway outside is slowly emptying out as the remaining cadets slip into their classrooms. When you find Eren rounding a corner, you break out into a run until there is so much momentum that it is easier to grab him by his arms and swing you both around like a merry-go-round until you finally halt. Disoriented and surprised by the sudden attack, Eren needs a moment to understand what is happening.

“Wha—”

“Close your eyes,” you say.

Eren takes a step back, doubt cutting deep creases into his forehead as if you are trying to sell him Titan body parts. “Why?”

“Just do as you’re told. Trust me.”

His expression says it all. He doesn’t. But he closes his eyes anyway, brows furrowed.

“Open your mouth.”

He opens his eyes.

“Close your eyes and open your mouth.”

Eren does so, but he adds, “If this is another one of your pranks, I’m going to make you eat snow.”

You ignore him and reach for your pocket from where you produce another small piece of chocolate. You place it on Eren’s lips. He flinches, his eyes snapping open and you use his confusion to shove the whole piece inside his mouth, the pads of your fingers brushing his warm lips. The tip of his tongue darts forward, prods against your fingertips, hot and wet, and you hesitate for the break of a second before pulling your hand back as the feeling sends electric shocks from your hand up your arm and down to your belly.

The transformation on his face is instant when he closes his mouth, his jaw working as the chocolate melts on his tongue. It’s an expression you did not expect, and because of it, you throw your head back and laugh out loud.

“Why do you look so confused?” you ask, giving him a light shove.

Red creeps up his face, paints the tips of his ears. He throws an arm over his mouth, trying to hide it. “It’s so … sweet?”

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be like that.” You almost reach out to tug his arm down by his sleeve, wishing to see more, but Eren has already dropped it, now looking at you as if you are a puzzle he has spent too much time trying to solve and now he is considering throwing it against the wall.

“Why?” he asks.

“Well, there is a lot of sugar in it.”

“No, why are you giving it to me?”

The question catches you off guard, changes the gravity centre a little and uproots your safe foundation. You haven’t really thought about a deeper meaning, just that you wanted to share something you enjoy with him, something you know most people enjoyed, that would bring them happiness. Just like Mikasa and Armin. You wanted, you realise, to share a little happiness with Eren as well.

Which is something you definitely can’t and won’t admit to him out loud.

“You know, gaining favours, having you owe me something.” You shrug, trying to make it look extra nonchalant.

“So, now I owe you something after you almost shoved your fingers inside my mouth.” He crosses his arms in front of his broad chest, and gives you one of those insufferable grins that remind you of every picaresque trickster you have read about in stories—dashing and adventurous, but also daring and dangerous. You realise the part inside you that didn’t want to understand what exactly it is Eren dares you to do grows quieter and quieter, instead replaced by a growing voice that’s a little too eager to accept the challenge head-on.

You mimic his posture, aware of how your crossed arms push out your chest. There isn’t anything subtle about Eren, or the way his eyes drop down like a magnet to its pole. “You say that as if you didn’t like it, Jaeger.”

Eren’s eyes grow dark. He looks at you, his gaze sliding over you in a way that you know is like fingertips stroking over your skin. “I—”

“Hey, if you two squirts have time to stand out here and fuck around, you better be able to recount the whole operation without any mistakes!” Shadis’ voice roars up from the end of the corridor, his sharp, pinprick dots of eyes traverse the whole floor to hit you with a marksman’s precision.

You and Eren duck your heads as if that could spare you from Shadis’ wrath, immediately setting off together, a hasty walk that quickly turns into a race down the hall to see who is faster. Eren only wins because he cheats, his hand reaching down to pull at the harness on your leg only to let it snap back against the back of your thigh.

His laughter disappears as he dives into the classroom first, which is great because that means he doesn’t see your face going up in flames at the quick brush of his fingers against the back of your thigh.

True to his word, Shadis does make you two recount the operation and everything important for its success, which somehow you manage to recite without any problems.

Sadly, that did not prevent the events from nearly taking your life.

The cold punishes arrogance.

That was Shadis’ first lesson, one none of you took too seriously simply because you all, stemming from the southern parts within the Walls where winters are uncomfortable but that is pretty much it, lack the imagination to fully understand what it means to be cold.

“Keep in mind, safety first!” Shadis’ voice howls inside your head, louder than the wind tearing at the naked branches reaching for you like cold, broken fingers as you keep your head down, fighting against the wind trying to sweep you off your feet, eyes glued to Ymir’s boots in front of you. Looking up would hurt too much. The whirling snowflakes striking your skin hurt like pellets. “I’d rather have you maggots fail the objective than be stupid enough to die to hypothermia! Get frostbite and your pathetic little lives are over! Cold winter climate like this is the most difficult climate to manoeuvre! Even when not in combat, you’re still in a fight against the cold. Now out in those woods, the cold won’t be your only enemy. There are wolves, bears. The animals might kill you. But the cold will.”

You’ve checked your gear multiple times, made sure everything is safe inside your trekking back and nothing is missing. The winter coats, long enough to fall past your knees, shield you from the cold, keep you warm as long as you keep moving. You cannot allow one sliver of skin to be exposed to these extreme temperatures or you’ll grow numb immediately, completely freeze in maybe a few minutes. Dead in maybe an hour.

It helps to keep your mind completely fixed on the task. One foot in front of the other, step by step, in the same rhythm that Ymir and the rest march. You’ve completely lost any feeling for the time, and surrounded by this never-ending grey landscape, it could either still be early morning or afternoon already. Which would mean night is approaching and you do not want to be outside when the sun completely vanishes and leaves you in the dark. You can’t imagine how much colder it will be then.

As suddenly as the snowstorm has hit your formation, it dissolves for now. Risking a glance up, you can finally make out the dark, barren stems of trees, still bending in the harsh wind and creaking like old men lamenting their aching backs. Mountains stand tall in the distance, growing taller and taller as you march towards them. Behind them warm huts, burning fireplaces, and warm stews await your arrival. Two more hours, maybe three, and you can finally take off the padded coat and winter boots, the heavy backpack sinking you deeper into the snow with every step.

The cliffs rise higher as you progress, pocked with spots of darkness, like slashes of black paint. As you look more closely, you realise they are caves in the rock. Some look very deep, twisting away into darkness. You imagine bats and creepy-crawling things hiding in the blackness, and shiver.

At last a narrow path cutting through the cliffs leads you to a wide road, nearly completely frozen over. Anytime now, you think, having memorised the map around these areas until you could draw it with your eyes closed. The group begins to slow down, shuffling even closer now that movement ceases and in need of a different source of warmth. You feel Mina pressing up against your side, her gloved hands clutching tightly onto the straps of her backpack. She peeks over at you from under her furred hood, barely managing an exhausted smile. You reach under her hood and give her Rudolph-red nose a squeeze.

At the front, quiet murmur rises, the order passed from the first to the last man. You’d imagine Shadis would have a field trip shouting in a place like this where his voice would echo and grow tenfold, the only downside is that the avalanche following would kill you all swiftly.

Everyone shuffles into one line. You can feel the unrest and anxiety running through the rest like a wave carrying on from person to person. The need to stomp their feet against the creeping needle-fingered cold, the white death slowly advancing and sucking heat from any warm thing. But the narrow mountain pass snaking alongside the cliff’s wall doesn’t allow for two people walking side by side. You imagine freezing to death might be a bit more pleasant than a drop all the way down to the bottom of the mountain and breaking bones. Then again, you’d prefer not to die at all.

With the progress slowed down, you have no choice but to wait for your turn to squeeze alongside the steep cliff to the other side. Were it any other time, you’d enjoy the fantastic outlook over the valley. There’s nothing but mountains and trees as far as the eye can see, a winter wonderland reminding you of all the Wîhe Naht stories your mother used to read to you at night when you were both snuggling into warm comforters and blankets. You try to recount those stories now, of brave Lucia venturing out on a cold, dark, lightless night to find the sun and bring it back to the world, or the stories of Vaeterchen Frost and his granddaughter Schneefloeckchen travelling the lands to deliver presents, to pass time as Mina carefully shimmies along the edge to the other side. Singing songs in your head helps as well—just about anything that occupies you from thinking too much about the cold. What better way to pass time with winter songs.

Schneefloeckchen, Weissroeckchen / wann kommst du geschneit? / Du wohnst in den Wolken / dein Weg ist so weit.

A muffled sneeze interrupts your solo performance. There’s only a handful of cadets left bringing up the rear, comrades you’re able to recognise by their built now rather than seeing their faces after spending almost two years together. Franz glued to Hannah’s side, taking care that she doesn’t slip and fall. Annie, her height giving her away, kicking some frozen ice clumps off the cliff, watching them tumble down, sometimes growing as snow sticks to it. The last one is Eren, all gloomy and sulking like a little child and whenever he raises his head, watchful eyes scanning his surroundings, you don’t miss the feverish look on his face, his cheeks and nose a scarlet red you know has nothing to do with the cold.

No one had missed the argument between him and Mikasa this morning, one Eren ended by storming outside the Mess Hall, ignoring her calls. He wouldn’t be stopped from gathering experience during this mission, not even by the cold turning his voice raw and raspy, his nose runny. You can’t explain how he’s still standing, other than that sheer will power is driving him onward and whoever doubts it gets on Eren’s shit list. Three streaks and you’re out, Eren is not shy handing out punches—physically or verbally. Mikasa was the first to get the brunt of it, banished to the front of the line and as far away from Eren as physically possible just because he couldn’t stand her watching over him like a mother hen.

You felt bad then, watching Mikasa letting Eren stomp off, looking at him with frustration but also fondness—unable to decide if she should respect his wish and let him be alone or follow him to keep him safe. In the end, it was Armin, as usual, who negotiated and kept the peace between them, pulling Mikasa with him and making her his trek buddy.

Now, as you watch Mina reach the pass’ first half and Eren getting ready behind you, you can’t help and plead in Mikasa’s favour.

“You should have listened to Mikasa and stayed back,” you mumble, voice low enough for only him to hear.

Eren’s bad condition is only further proven by the lack of immediate retaliation, the time he needs to take in your words, process them and come up with a strong argument. It is a little like pushing a toddler off his feet and watching him trying to understand what just happened.

Finally, the response you get is the most unconvincing performance you’ve seen, one were it a stage play, you’d demand your money back.

“’M fine,” he slurs, bracing himself against the cliff’s side. He’s taking deep, rattling breaths, his mouth a pale gash in his feverish face. “We’re almost at our destination ‘nyway.”

You take the first careful step, hugging the wall. They always say ‘Don’t look down’ when standing too close to an edge with nothing but space between you and the ground, but that doesn’t work when you have to use ODM gear. Still, something about being in free fall is different than standing close to an edge with nothing but half a foot separating you plunging into your death. There is nothing quite describing this feeling except call of the void.

“You ever think that this isn’t just about you?” you ask him, feeling safer with your back pressed against the wall even though the outlook gives a splendid, stomach churning overview of the valley that has your toes curling. You miss the weight of your ODM gear, the knowledge that no matter if you fall right here, safety is but a click of your hooks and wires away. “Don’t expect any of us to carry you the rest of the way.” Certainly not Annie, his trek buddy. Not because she’s lacking the strength, rather you don’t think she has it in her heart to care about what happens to Eren. Or any of you.

At this point, Eren can barely make any distinguishable words. It sounds something like “Don’ worry ‘bout it,” which is the only signal you get to look to your right and see him sway precariously.

You don’t think. Instinct kicks in, and as he falls forward, you lunge for him, grabbing his backpack. Only that is exactly half the step you shouldn’t have taken.

The last thing you can make out is someone is trying to scream after you, quickly shushed by a firm hand on their mouth—you can only imagine it is Annie’s quick wit and reflex that prevents Hannah’s voice from causing an avalanche going off above their heads.

The fall slams your stomach up to your throat as the world turns into a blurry merry-go-round of white and ice, and the only stable thing is the additional weight of Eren as you hold onto his backpack’s strap for dear life. The first hit is the worst. You land awkwardly on your side, the blanket of snow buffering most of the impact as you tumble and roll further down, kicking up snow and dirt.

Gloved hands clawing into the ice, searching for roots to stop your fall, you try to scramble back up the hill but the snow gives under your feet—and then suddenly there is no ground beneath your feet and you fall again, flailing to find purchase and it is the longest two seconds of your life until your backpack hits the ground and your teeth clack together hard enough you feel it in all your bones.

A moment later, a second thud lands inside a pile of snow beside you.

All you can do is lie on your back like a turtle upturned, kicking and swinging and swaying as you try to scramble to your knees, blinking away fine snow dust from your lashes. Your heart still beats too fast, too hard—too scared from dodging Death’s cold, greedy talons by nothing more than a hairsbreadth. You can still feel him yearning for you in the cold, biting wind that picks up, in the coppery taste filling your mouth after having bitten the inside of your mouth during the fall.

You turn your back to the cliff. A snow-tipped forest stretches before you, illuminated in a haze of dusty gold beneath the late-afternoon sun. And in the distance, more ice-capped mountains rise and fall as far as the eye can see.

But you feel only the cold in your bones and see only the shadows that stretch long and dark beneath the pine trees. This is the south of the Walls, where winter days are not as bad as in the North, yet if you don’t find shelter before the sun sets, you will die.

You scramble to your feet, snow stuck to your coat and backpack weighing you down so much your knees buckle with the additional weight. The heaps of snow surrounding you remain motionless, still. The panic seizing you, freezing you in place for a moment, is colder than the snow before you lunge into the pile, clawing through the icy chunks that immediately freeze and harden as you dig your way through to Eren.

You find his arm first. He’s lost one of his gloves during the fall and you don’t try to push your luck finding it. Unearthing him takes a good amount of strength and time, but at least he is free from his icy coffin. Snow dusts his face, clings to the fur of his hood and his closed lashes like fine diamonds. You tug your glove off with your teeth and put your hand to his cheeks, feeling for his pulse. Despite the cold, his cheeks are still warm, still full of life, and the relief that sparks within you warms you like a small candle’s light.

You free him completely, pull him out and drag him away until he is laid out on the snowy floor, his breaths coming out in soft white plumes. No matter how often you say his name, pat his cheek and beg him to wake up, nothing disturbs Eren’s sleeping beauty slumber.

“You can’t die, all right?” you say to him. To yourself. To no one. “Please don’t. You’re a prick sometimes, but you can’t die, okay?”

There’s no response. You have never known silence this terrifying.

But fear and panic are not the solution. For two years Shadis has beat discipline and order into you with words and you would not allow this to crumble under the face of adversity.

More importantly, you will not leave Eren to be taken by the Grim Reaper.

Shelter. You need shelter, you need a fire. You have to survive this.

Checking your gear, you make sure you didn’t lose anything during your descent. Pulling Eren out of that pile of snow was already hard work. You doubt you’ll make it far if you’d try carrying him and his backpack, so you spend the next five minutes going through everything he has on him.

The contents of his bag are identical to yours: a raincover, additional rope and another survival knife, another pair of waterproof gloves that you quickly switch out with the one Eren’s wearing. You take his water bottle with you and stuff yourself with a sweet oat bar. The rest of his rations—dry crackers, another oat bar, thinly sliced rye bread and hard biscuits—you stuff into your own back for later if he wakes up.

When he wakes up, you correct yourself, chewing on the bar without really tasting anything. You doubt something like a fever and a fall from this height that barely left you with a scratch could kill a public menace like Eren. The world wouldn’t miss out to see how far he’ll go.

Now looking up, it actually does surprise you how unscathed you’ve emerged from the fall. A canopy of barren trees obscures your sight of the top. Protocol says that any loss to the formation is to be diminished. Unfortunately, that means everyone is out for themselves, and those who manage to lose the group have to find their own way back. But not with the sun descending behind the horizon, and Eren still unconscious.

When you’ve steeled yourself for the arduous task, you slide the bag off Eren’s back and throw him over your shoulders, huffing at the additional weight. If you keep following the trail back along the cliff side, you should return to where you’ve earlier seen the caves and find shelter there for the night.

Soon you are in the heart of the woods, surrounded by tall, crowding pines and frost-larches that cast their shadows over you. A hush has settled in the air. It feels as though the forest is alive and watching, the cold creeping steadily past your clothes, under your skin, into your bones. Every step further turns into an excruciating fight to keep Eren upright, his weight pushing you down into the thick blanket of snow.

Darkness has steadily crept in around you, and you have to blink to make out which are the trees and which are the shadows. Time seems to go in circles, and you begin to wonder whether you are going in circles. The unbearable cold is addling your brain; you keep looking to the left and right, imagining the occasional crackle of a branch or crunch of snow. You remember your mother’s stories about never-ending winters where ice spirits dwell to spirit away the last remaining humans locked up inside their tiny huts in hopes for spring to come. Wolves that spring from thin air and hunt in packs. That is exactly why Shadis had told your class to never travel without a light source on you that burns steadily through the night to ward off the creatures lurking in the woods. Now the darkness seems to press against you.

Then, you hear it. The snap-snap-snap of twigs and the rustle of the underbrush, several dozen paces behind you.

Someone—or something—is following you.

Fear pricks at you. You duck behind the nearest tree, and after rebalancing Eren on your back, you still and strain to listen over the hammering of your heart.

There. Rustling and crackling approaches, as though something large is moving through the trees. Holding your breath, you dare a look from behind the tree and feel your legs turn to cotton.

Multiple swift, dark shapes slither by, so close that their musty wet-animal scent wafts past you. They circle you, sniffing the air and letting out deep-throated growls. As they turn their heads to rivet their black, evil eyes on you, your heart sinks. Wolves. A pack of hungry, desperate wolves.

Your mind kicks into action as you press Eren’s body closer to yours. One wrong movement and your life will be over; Eren’s life will be over. Now that they have picked up your scent, they will hunt you until their razor-sharp fangs tear the meat from your bones, squeeze their tongue in to suck out your marrow.

Slowly, painfully aware that you cannot do any rash moves, you lower Eren to the ground first, then your backpack. There is no way you can outrun them. Your hand inches to the survival knife strapped to the belt around your coat, fingers numb and shaking. The wolves crouch, low and snarling. One of them, their leader you assume, stands between you and the rest, a mountain of growling, brindled fur, shoulders hunched forward, lips curled back over snarling teeth.

It snarls again, crouching closer to the ground. Its growl is more than just Look, here is a human in our territory and we can do whatever we please. No, this growl means We have not eaten in days, and now it is time to feast.

The wolf’s lips draw back to show its teeth, and you see its lolling tongue. And then it launches itself forward, jaws gaping, ready to tear. You have barely time to draw your knife as it strikes you square in the chest, and you two go over in a writhing tangle.

Your screams go under the lethal snap of his jaw, its target the soft flesh of your throat where he can easily rip you to shreds. The smell of dirt and wet dog and something far more unpleasant threatens to choke you. The weight of this beast robs you of any chance to fight back. You’d just have to move your arm and bring upon it the sharp edge of your knife to show him your own talons are as sharp—everything inside you screams against this. You hate to see animals suffer, to inflict pain upon the most innocent creatures.

If only the wolf would think so of you as well.

But the wolf is starving, and its mates are starving. It sees you as nothing more than a walking slab of meat. And that is why it has no problem to throw its head back and pierce those razor-sharp fangs right through the fabric of your coat into your arm and tear at your flesh.

❀❀❀

My darling [Name],

I have always known the day would come when you would remember and yet nothing prepares the heart for adversity as great as finding yourself facing the struggle you’ve tried to brace yourself for.

What Jeanie told you is the truth. I still remember reading your mother’s letter, feeling her distraught with every word. I swear I feared my heart would stop beating reading your mother’s recount of the events.

You must have been ten—the age when everything is a mystery and a great adventure. I remember whenever you and Jeanie went outside to play, you wouldn’t come back for hours and when you finally returned you were both covered in dust and grime from head to toe. I assume that is why, on that day, your parents weren’t worried why you were staying out for so long.

But then, your mother wrote, your friend had come over, asking for your whereabouts. That made her wonder, at last. Were you not supposed to be with him? I know he was very dear to you, I remember you talking about him so much, and strangely, I cannot remember his name or face, even though I know I must have met him at some point when visiting you.

Your mother and father immediately set out to ask around the neighbourhood if someone saw you. The result shocked your little community quite. The old veteran living on the outskirts close to the wall, who everyone believed to be blind turned out to have impeccable eyesight. We believe he lured you away, asked you to help him and you have never been someone to turn away from those who need help.

It was your father who found you. The veteran attacked him, scared what would happen to him if everyone knew about his secret. I don’t know how much you saw of it, of what your father had to do to protect you both. We were all grateful he saved you, and yet there is a part of me wondering if taking that old man’s life really was necessary. If it wasn’t possible to resolve things differently. Then again, any parent would make a deal with the Devil, I am sure, to keep their child safe.

The fact that your early life is built upon violence and loss pains me to this day. It must have been such a great shock that you had completely repressed any memory of the events, and had no recollection of ever having been kidnapped and taken away by that monster.

I do wonder though, why you have remembered now of all times—and such strange details as well! Not all is clear to me, there was no need to make your parents go through the pain of remembering all that by asking them too much. But a green wallpaper with golden lilies on it? That doesn’t sound like something you would find in Shiganshina. I did hear that it is a popular interior design choice within the inner Walls though.

But how did you know?

I think that is enough talk of that. Your graduation approaches. It is strange to believe that only two years ago, we last saw each other, and the next time we hopefully will, you and Jeanie will be full-fledged soldiers. You know I have never fully approved of you two going and giving up your young lives to a cause with no end. But I have been young once as well, and I know that nobody wants to be saved from their own ambition.

I am just glad you two have decided to stay within the Walls, and that makes it a little easier to sleep at night.

Until we see each other next time, please enjoy our little presents.

In love, always Ida

A/N: After finishing this I realised there is no way they would have chocolate on the island because they wouldn’t be able to plant cacao. Might go back and edit this, but for now let’s just ignore this.

feel free to head over to my pinned post to find my ko-fi link if you enjoy the story wanna fuel me with some coffee! ♥

Sources of research for this chapter: • London, Jack: To Build a Fire (1902) • Geller, Jacob: Fear of Cold (2022) • Campbell, John W.: Who Goes There? (1938)

taglist: @arisu003, @brooki, @prttyangelbaby, @honeylmnade

#didn't mean to split the chapter but it all would have been too long #next chapter will be so much fun because EMIL #aot x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #swyaatl

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logicalstansadvice · 2 years

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Maybe actually read it? It was kind. You’re no better if you’re reacting to an apology statement with bullying./ I read it. It wasn't an apology nor was it kind. It was self serving. 'I did something wrong, I'm sorry, but he had no right to complain about the thing I did wrong and he hurt my feelings when he did.' It's like she expects Seb to apologize to her for mentioning a fan that invaded his privacy. People calling her out for trying to portray herself as the victim is exactly what should be happening. She wasn't a victim then or now. Seb didn't complain about her submission, he was laughing about it. It's her own guilt at crossing a line that made her feel ashamed but she didn't own what she did and starts blaming Seb because 'he didn't understand her (harmless) intent' What bullshit. Intent is irrelevant. Actions are what matter. Results are what matter. As Vamp pointed out all she had to do was make a simple apology, take responsibility for her mistake and hopefully learn from it. No sympathy from me. Just another entitled fan who thinks it's all about them.

Anon 2: it must be insulting to her for him to assume her spotting was her trying to violate his privacy when she just didn’t think first // She deserves to be insulted. The very act of submitting a sighting on a gossip blog is violating privacy. I live in a city that has a lot of TV and movie filming. So while out and about, I sometimes see actors shopping or in restaurants, etc., but I never try to take pictures and never post about it on social media. At most, I might mention it to some friends if it’s an actor they’re interested in. Not violating privacy is very easy when you don’t have a stalker mindset.

Anon 3: That girl made the choice to submit to DM, she wasn’t forced to. Anyone with common sense knows celebs aren’t going to be overjoyed to have their movements sent in. She’s super naive if she thinks otherwise. SS had every right to be annoyed and he wasn’t even that annoyed. He doesn’t even know who she is. She’s anonymous, a two page apology to justify yourself or clear your name when nobody even knows your name is ridiculous.

Anon 4: I’m thinking all those anon messages in defence of the girl getting rightfully called out for spreading nasty rumors about Seb being rude is mostly from the girl herself. Nobody has sympathy for that asshat, apology or not. And Seb was 100% right in calling her out. Good for him!

Anon 5: This girl sends anons to all the blogs to defend herself. I don't buy her apology. She stalked him and has absolutely no right in feeling hurt in any way. She probably also belongs to that group that likes to submit fake shit. And Sebastian is supposed to take a step back? Seriously? He's on this hell site en masse every week and he's expected to just take it and keep quiet about it? No one can seriously believe that. I think he's too nice and his words were way too kind.

Anon 6: I have sympathy for the person who wrote the letter but it does come off as disingenuous. Almost like they are excited to have been called out because now they have a delusion of having been noticed by Sebastian which makes them “special.”

Anon 7: Why do some people always find ways to blame Seb for other people's actions? DM is a mean gossip site, they post anything and everything about any celebrity, just check out what's going on with Flo Pugh. If you follow the DM, you know the DM's intentions, and when they don't mind posting things without checking. She knew what the DM did when she sent it, so don't come with OMG poor me, I don't buy this. Seb wasn't talking about who sent it, he was talking about the friend who sent him the information and compared it to P&T, ie it wasn't about her. He doesn't know who she is, it's not for her, he was talking about gossip in general. This letter shows that this girl is full of herself, and dumb because she keeps doing dirty work for the DM, and for free. lmao DM will get rich because of idiots who work for it for free.

Anon 8: Have respect. She was clearly hurt by it.//She called him out by name in her sighting which led at the time to several people commenting on his behavior. She’s the one that put herself out there with her attempted apology. She may feel hurt but that’s not Seb’s fault. Maybe being gossiped about is not as harmless as she thought.

💄

#logical stans advice #logicalstansadvice #opinion blog #sebastian stan #anonymous

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fireflyskitters · 1 year

Text

Goals for 2023

• Get a resident visa in Taiwan – My plans could change anytime–I can always move back to PH and do other fun things from there–but if I do end up staying here, I’m applying for a resident visa by January. It’s not as cool as it sounds. The visa just makes me a legal resident here, with a potential work permit eventually and (most importantly!) the capacity to be able to go in and out of the country.

• Keep taking Chinese classes – This goes along with the resident visa. I’m pretty much at a rather depressing A2 level with Chinese right now (probably intermediate with reading, but speaking and listening are so hard), but my Chinese should improve as the classes get harder.

• Apply for graduate school – Partly to get my mom to quit nagging, partly because it’s one of those bucket list items that I want to get out of the way. I’m not sure if I want to do graduate school because I have the nagging suspicion that I can do just as well by continuing to work (it’s marketing, hardly a traditional field), but I suppose I’ll make the decision once I actually get acceptance letters. I’m planning to apply for language technology programs–a combination of computer science and linguistics–and I can get recommendation letters from my Chinese teachers here.

• Earn more money, gain more skills – What I’m realizing is as long as you have the right skills, companies–and even countries–will trip over themselves trying to get you. We live in a world where borders are breaking down, and if you gain the right skills–which are constantly changing, so you need to keep adjusting–you can have the freedom to move almost anywhere, and the money to go along with it.

• Travel to Japan – This is mostly because it’s so much easier to get a visa for Japan as a student in Taiwan rather than as a freelancer / remote worker from PH. In PH, I’d have to submit tax documents, but in Taiwan, you just need a bank statement (and low risk of you trying to run anyway if you’re enrolled in classes).

• Meet more people – It’s almost funny to admit considering my general personality, but I’m realizing that social capital is important. Each new friend you make gives you more opportunities, more chances to be invited to interesting events, and overall potentially increased happiness. It’s also very cool to get to know people who are doing something that you like or aspire to do because it gives you an idea of how to get closer to your goal.

• Do yoga regularly, even if just for ten minutes – When I don’t do yoga, my posture gets bad, I start to get aches in my neck and back and legs, and I’m also less conscious of what I eat. I’m in my late 20’s anyway, which is a bit of a “danger zone” in terms of fitness.

This isn’t exactly a goal, but I’m also committing to doing emotional work constantly. There are a lot of things that I want, but I suppose the biggest and most ambitious of them would be to do my best to resolve all of my emotional issues as they come up (I actually found an effective method for this, after years and years of searching and therapy). I want to be at peace (even with the most negative emotions), and confident, while constantly improving as a person so that the future version of me will always be better than how I am now.

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flik-feathery · 2 years

Text

Problem Solver | An Essay

Written by F. Feathery, mid-2022.

I was born on a hot summer day in Doncaster, a village in Yorkshire, in July 1996. I’m the eldest child and firstborn son of seven, but I wasn’t treated any different from my siblings were growing up. When you think of a large family, you probably think of wealth, dolls made of porcelain and jack in the boxes carved from wood and delicately painted. That’s not even close to what I went through, though.

Unlike my younger siblings, I didn’t have hand-me-downs, I just wore most of my wardrobe until there were too big of holes, or it just didn’t fit anymore. Most notably through all of this, I wore the same old, torn shoes throughout primary school. I dealt with teasing and name-calling, and for so long; I yearned for a solution to my difficulties, and most importantly, my family’s difficulties. My family is everything to me, I would’ve and still would do anything for them. But that’s not necessarily what this is about.

When I was 12, we went to my nan’s house for a mini-holiday, it was there when I tinkered with some old junk in her attic. I made a little gadget, I don’t recall what it was exactly, but it was an adrenaline rush. It felt so incredible to make something for myself, and if I could do that, then could I perhaps do more with that?

Spoiler: I definitely can. Keep reading though, I’m far from done.

Most boys my age would have requested footballs or a fascinating bike for Christmas, and I would request usual teenage items like that too! I would not utilize them, however. I’d pull them apart, bit by bit until I was left with scraps. From those scraps, I’d spend hours at a time in my room, just rearranging the pieces until I was satisfied with my work. I felt so powerful, like my potential to do something good for this world was slowly improving day by day.

Fast-forward to right before my 18th birthday, I decided to skip out on college until I can get a solid grip on my life. Since my time skip, I moved to Swynlake at 16 and was nearing graduation from secondary school. I hear about this contest pertaining to engineering, and decide to enter one of my inventions into the engineering contest, just because I know it won’t go too far. Looking back on it now, it was a silly invention I submitted, it combined a pair of scissors and a pizza slicer, so you could essentially cut and slice the pizza at once, but at the time, I thought it was a terrific concept.

Eventually, after a bit of waiting and checking the mail constantly, I finally received the letter I’d been hoping for. I had won the contest, but there was a catch: the judges were from Pride U’s engineering board. I was over the moon, I finally felt like weights were lifted off of my shoulders, like after wishing on a shooting star, and it comes true. I’ve never actually done that - can someone confirm or deny it for me?

After years of making sure that my family was in a good spot both emotionally and physically, I moved out of their house and began my education at PrideU, only 7 years after I was meant to start. I currently major in engineering, but if that doesn’t go the way I prefer it to go, I may just go a different direction, and I am okay with that. I’m a very open-minded person when it comes to my interests. Next year is my second year there, and I can’t wait for the future.

I don’t know how to end a lot of the essays I write, because I’ll be honest - I’m not much of a writer. I think a solid summary of this essay is that I am a problem-solver. I have unique techniques for solving obstacles that turn up in my life, and no matter how difficult my life goes, I do my hardest to lessen these difficulties, so they will not come up in the future. For me, it is not an ‘I believe I will...’ statement I go by anymore, it is an ‘I know I will...’ statement. I know I will be comfortable in the future, and I know I will be satisfied with my life, both then and now. Most importantly, it may not be now, but I know everything will turn out okay.

#swyntask #not going to lie #just writing this made my heart ache #:(((( <3

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scrambledthoughtz · 2 years

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09/02/22

I’m still young and a part of me feels indifferent to if I don’t do well on the LSAT this time around and I honestly wouldn’t mind if I needed to wait another year to apply in the next cycle (not this one). On the other hand, I really really don’t want to have wasted all the opportunities I have had now at this moment. I feel like it might be better to apply when all of these experiences and opportunities are fresh in my mind. I’ve been a part of 2 programs explicitly tailored towards helping students through this application process and through one of the programs, I attend monthly workshops where people from different areas of law come in to talk about their experiences and I would rather ask them questions when these connections and network are fresh rather than wait a whole year to apply. I feel like I just don’t have the heart to study for this exam right now because I’m facing so many mental barriers and a part of me feels like I’m not cut out for this but who’s to say that I’ll be more ready in a year? I’ve done all the preparation now and I’ve literally been studying for this exam since March (albet not making much tangible progress). I know realistically I can take the exam and see how I do and if my score doesn’t make me competitive, I can decide to just not apply and wait. I’m lucky to have really strong mentors through my program who I can consult and rely on as a sounding board if it gets to that point. I know I can ask them what they realistically think. I know I also need to be more realistic in my goals. I think I’ve been grappling with the question of whether I want to go to law school, or do I just want to go to a GOOD law school? There’s no doubt that ranking matters but I feel like there is so much tied to the ranking, which absolutely sucks. And another big barrier I have is that the program I’m a part of requires that we submit our personal statement and diversity statement to them by September 2 and we are REQUIRED to apply by this cycle -- otherwise, we’re not allowed to submit our documents to them and I don’t want to miss out on this opportunity because I understand that people usually pay a huge chunk of money for private consultants to look through their documents for them (which is essentially what I’m getting through the program I’m in right now). It’s just such a dilemma to be in because I’m taking the LSAT on September 10 but I need to submit my documents by September 2 for the consultants to review, and it’ll basically be against their policy if I get my scores back and I don’t feel satisfied enough to apply this upcoming cycle and I wait, because we’re required to apply if we submit the documents and I want to submit my documents but I don’t know if I want to apply. A part of me is worried about being behind if I wait another cycle to apply but also, it’s almost something that I’m not too worried about because I know so many people who waited a couple of years and worked first and did other stuff before they applied to law school. But at the same time is it even reasonable to be preemptively be putting off applying when I haven’t even taken the exam yet, much less gotten my score back?? Idk I’m so tired of studying for this exam and I feel like for the past few months, I haven’t even been actively preparing. It’s just been floating in the back of my mind for months now and it’s a constant nagging feeling that I haven’t really been taking any steps to address because I feel like a part of me has already given up. I haven’t taken a full practice test in over a month and my exam is in a week. Usually when I have a big exam like this, my nerves would be through the roof but all I feel is resignation. I know I should be preparing (whether that be doing practice sets or taking just one more practice test) or even preparing in other ways (making sure that there’s nothing in my room that will be flagged by ProctorU). The LSAT writing portion has been open for a couple of days now and I can’t even be bothered to practice that. I honestly feel like I might wing it, which is probably the worst idea possible. I know that there’s ways to prepare for the writing portion but I feel so mentally burnt out by the exam itself that I can’t even begin to think about writing something. I haven’t gotten the timing down, I don’t know what my weaker areas are, I haven’t been able to take a single practice test without rushing or not finishing. I feel like at this point I’m going to be winging the exam and I couldn’t care less. I know realistically I’ll probably get in somewhere, even if it’s not among the top schools, and maybe I just need to shift my expectations for myself. It’s hard not to get tied up in the numbers though. I tell myself that I wouldn’t mind waiting another year to apply if I can get a better score, but honestly, I’m definitely getting ahead of myself and in fact, if I adopt that mindset, I’ll give up way too soon. It’s way too early to be giving up hope. I haven’t even taken the exam, much less finished my personal and diversity statements. I know schools say they look at our applications holistically, but realistically, I can’t help but feel skeptical because I know the numbers are what they actually care about -- the numbers being our LSAT score and GPA. And honestly, studying for this exam and preparing my statements has been exhausting. That’s not even to mention that if I wait another year, I’ll be even more far removed from the professors who I’m asking for recommendations from. Even now, I’m taking a full year off so I’ll need to make a concerted effort to keep in touch with them and remind them of who I even am. It’ll be even more difficult to do so the more time I let go by between the time I apply and the time that I was in their class.

#personal

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lemonjoonah · 3 years

Text

The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?” You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.” The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry. “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head. “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose? “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside. Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a warm and earthy scent envelopes you. His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel. Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid. “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin. “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod. A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth. He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts. And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom. A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

#jungkook smut #hybrid jungkook #bts hybrid au #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts the garden thief #bts smut #jungkook x reader

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d3nt4l-d4m4g3 · 3 years

Text

A few days ago, I emailed my former professor about a paper on women’s food practices in the middle ages. At least, that’s what I told him it was about, initially.

But actually, I wanted to discuss heresy. This professor teaches a women’s rights course every year. Every year at the beginning of the class, he calls attention to why he, a man, is talking about women’s rights. He looks us in the eyes and says, no one else is doing it, and I’m sorry it’s me.

This man made us read the SCUM manifesto, Gerda Lerner, Maria Mies. He grazed the subject of the Lesbian Sex Wars, delicately, so gingerly, posing the question: “Can sex work ever be just work?” And my (all woman) classmates, generally mute—in a Women’s Rights class, they all seemed averse to saying the word “woman,” at all. Then one woman raised her hand. and she said, “Sex work is real work.” A statement that, as I hope you know, is a deflection and a discussion killer.

At the time I was non-binary. Hah. I submitted a comic at the end of the year of my final project. My thesis for that project was this: the very language female people have to use for themselves was constructed by the patriarchy. for example, the english word “vagina” comes from the latin word for “sheath”. so the vagina invokes the act of penetration upon its utterance. Whereas the word “penis” has no clear etymological root, implying that it is original while the vagina is constructed for him. Why should I carry the fact that I will always be a tool, the hole, of the human that is man? My solution, at the end of the comic, was to continue using they/them pronouns, to shield myself from the horror of being a wo-man, a s-he—an appendage of Him.

I got a good grade. A stellar report. And it wasn’t a bad comic, for what I knew then. For my condition of blindness and deafness. I made a compelling argument, using sources from class. But oh, how much older I feel now. I’ve always felt old but now I feel almost like I’m dying. Like I don’t have enough time to fix the world before I disappear. And women’s stories never survive. They are not surviving. networks spring up like mycelium and then every century at least they are burned. Witchcraft is in the air shared by women in a room of their own, and witchcraft is doused in gasoline.

I don’t have enough time to explain how the veil lifted for me. Maybe I forget the big moment. the days after were a blur of searching the no-no tags like radical feminist, GNC, gender critical. Amazed at the wealth of journals that these women linked to with real statistics showing that children are being sterilized for no reason. Mostly gay children. like me, a lesbian, who now lives in a house with three “non-binary afabs”. This summer, one of these women, who I have known since freshman year, will start taking testosterone, a procedure I took up for three turbulent months during my freshman year of college. I get to watch her become what I turned away from, knowing the experience fractured my sense of self to a point of terror and estrangement. I get to watch her hide from her problems and cut herself off from womanhood the way I did for 3 years. I am not a woman, so do I not feel Woman’s pain, she is telling me, I told myself, when I was in a dream. She has so many problems, she laughs. But trans is a separate problem that has nothing to do with those other problems. A coincidence.

(For any trans people reading this, you may think: This transtrender fake-trans never-was-trans woman is treating these nonbinary people as if they were dead! as if they weren’t happy people finally living their truth! —well. I put my mom through the process of trying to convince her that I should have always been a man. and I did lose her, for months. For her it was the height of cognitive dissonance that I should want to go on a life-altering hormone to cure my lifelong social awkwardness and self-hatred and self-harm and depression. And I blamed her for not accepting my real self. I was basically made to shun her and my family because of transphobia.. It is disrespectful to anyone’s sanity and integrity for me to perpetuate that cognitive dissonance in this post.)

So I eventually got through to the professor. I knew because of the texts he had us to read for class. He is gay. He has read all the theory, and lives by it. And no (woman) student wants to speak to him. To bring the theory alive. They cannot breathe into it and it sits dead in his mouth.

Maybe it is because he is a man. because the presence of one man in a space of all women immediately sends up alerts. lockdown. Certainly that is the case. Radical Feminists here: I know he’s a man. But I don’t have a woman. And I felt on the strength of the texts he’d given us that he would be my best bet. Maybe somewhere in the corrupted, rotting heart of my college there was a person who knew about thoughtcrimes and was thinking them anyway.

My professor starts with diversion. He starts by talking about my paper. I find it disconcerting that he starts that way. I worry that he won’t want to refer to my email. Where I say: I have woken up from a dream to the apocalypse—Does this man think I’m crazy? Chipper and kind of frantically, he lists off primary sources of medieval nuns and women saints. for my paper. Does this man think I’ve turned into a bigot? Am I confessing lunacy, like a flat-earther?

But I steer the conversation to the meat at his first tentative encouragement. I tell him something like: “children, mostly gay children, a whole generation of gay children, are being sterilized. Porn is a symptom of late-stage capitalism—men’s ownership of women’s bodies. trans is an extension of this. I was part of this. I was in a cult.” I was shaking a bit. I don’t think I’d uttered those words out loud. They sound crazy. Some of the things I said did sound far-fetched. disorganized, remote. But I prayed that my professor would believe some of it, any of it.

What I will say is that he believes me. Thank fuck, right?

He tells me something along the lines of this, vocalizing my fears:

that all of academia is being scrubbed of anything that doesn’t support Trans.

And it is trans-identified female students and women who are reporting him to Title IX, who spend all their time in his classes fuming at the lack of validation for trans women in the history of women. My sisters, footsoldiers for the cause. What cruel irony. This man is holding onto this class by his fingernails, speaking through his teeth, hoping any of the twenty young adult women staring blankly or angrily at him will hear him and listen.

Looking back, the professor’s responses to my emails are vague, completely refusing to acknowledge a point of view other than “WOW. I look forward to discussing this.” I think he thinks he could be blackmailed. Anything he says on gmail dot com can and would be used against him. It’s like, really, really, really that bad.

No ideology should involve a cultural cleaning of women’s history feat. witch hunts.

I will end here with an excerpt from my first email to this professor:

I'm sure you know what a total bummer it is to realize this.

#detransition #tra #gender critical #radical feminism #radfem #radblr #feminism #academia

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maskedtruths666 · 3 years

Text

This is a fictional story. None of it is true. Pics submitted by a fan of my works. Names were submitted by fan as well. Theme was proposed by user too! Pure coincidence if it’s real.

This is a story about Cheryl and how her personal trainer could not resist her subtle seductions.

The main motive behind Cheryl wanting to get fitter and have a nice figure is due to the fact that her boyfriend, Mark has always had a thing for fit girls. Seeing those fit girls on his Instagram account did nothing to help her insecurities but she didn’t want to let him know, so she pretended like it was all good.

She started doing some fitness exercises by herself, following youtubers and yoga instructors online. But as the months went by, she felt like she was not making enough progress so she decided to hire a personal trainer to help out with her fitness routine.

That’s when she met Daryl, a super muscular and handsome personal trainer, who was recommended by a female friend. When Cheryl first met Daryl, she instantly developed a crush on him. She did not feel an ounce of guilt because the week before, she had a fight with Mark over another girl because Mark said that the other girl is his eye candy.

At the gym, Cheryl hatched a plan to seduce Daryl. She knew she had a good body and she wanted to take advantage of that. So they met at her private gym and she trained with Daryl for a good 1 hour. After the hour was over, she asked Daryl to take a picture of her posing in the gym.

“If you’re still able to pose, you are not sore enough. Let’s carry on with the workouts.” Daryl said after taking a picture of Cheryl.

“How about you give me a massage? My body is a little a bit sore.” Cheryl asked, innocently giving Daryl a puppy eyed look.

“Haha, nice try. Massages are only for those who work out more than 2 hours and don’t pose for pics.” Daryl said laughing at her.

“Okay, how about you help me stretch?” Cheryl asked, countering his statement and pouting a little bit.

“Alright alright, just for you. But we are going to have an extra hardcore workout after this.” Daryl said.

“Yay of course.” Cheryl said, smiling. Finally being able to get into close contact with Daryl.

As Daryl started helping Cheryl stretch, she would daringly try to seduce him but subtly moaning or trying to grind him. Cheryl thought it didn’t work until she saw Daryl checking her out in the mirror.

“You like what you see huh?” Cheryl said, smirking at Daryl.

“Wahh what do you mean?” Daryl stammered, afraid he’d been caught.

“I saw you checking my ass out.” Cheryl said as she ran her hands over her own ass.

“Whaaa, no I wasn’t.” Daryl stammered again, blushing.

“It’s okay, you can touch it. I don’t mind. After all, my boyfriend is probably cheating on me.” Cheryl said as she inched towards Daryl.

“No I can’t, that would be unprofessional. Plus, you’re attached, so that makes it all the more wrong.” Daryl said.

“I don’t mind. I like you, I think you’re handsome. Plus, this will be between us.” Cheryl said as she turned around and seductively rubbed her ass on Daryl’s crotch area and she could feel his bulge right there.

“Oh gosh. This is embarrassing, I’m sorry for getting a boner. We should not be doing this.” Daryl said as he tried desperately to hide his boner.

“That’s only natural. You’d definitely be gay if you aren’t attracted to me.” Cheryl said as she continued grinding his bulge.

“Ugh fuck. I do want you. I want to take you right here right now.” Daryl said, finally confessing.

“Hard and fast is all I ask for.” Cheryl said as she began pulling down her tight yoga pants to reveal a soaked pussy.

Without speaking, Daryl knelt down me began eating her pussy out whilst fondling her toned butt cheeks with both hands. The moment his tongue penetrated Cheryl’s pussy, she let out a moan. For the first time in 4 years, another man is about to be inside her, that’s not her boyfriend. Electricity and excitement went through her body as she was being eaten out by Daryl.

“Stop eating me and start fucking me from the back.” Cheryl said as she sorely wanted Daryl to pound her from the back.

Daryl obeyed her like a good soldier and pulled down his pants to reveal a strong thick pulsating dick. The moment his tip touched her soaking wet pussy, Cheryl knew her pussy was about to be destroyed. She could feel the raw passion and energy emanating from his manhood.

With a single thrust, Daryl was in. Pure bliss. Soaking wet, tight pussy vacuuming his dick as he pounded her from the back.

“Fuck you’re huge. Don’t stop. Please fuck me till I’m sore.” Cheryl moaned as Daryl relentlessly pounded her from the back.

A big muscular figure mercilessly pounding a tight petite girl from the back was the scene.

With each thrust, Daryl kept it in to the best of his ability. He kept groaning as he ravaged her from the back. Being used like a petite fuck toy was cheryl’s fantasies and she kept moaning in pleasure. She didn’t even care about her boyfriend anymore.

When Daryl could not control it any longer, he said breathlessly, “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna do it all over your ass.”

“Cum in my pussy. Fill me up. Please. Just fill me up with your cum.” Cheryl said moaning breathlessly too.

Those words tilted Daryl over the edge as he could not hold it in any longer. Upon reaching climax, he ejaculated a huge load into cheryl’s tight pulsating pussy. With her pussy walls vacuuming everything in, his pleasure was at its maximum. As he was unloading himself into Cheryl, Cheryl was orgasming as well.

After the whole intense sexsion (session), she lay facing downwards with cum oozing out of her pussy.

“That was the most intense session ever.” Cheryl said breathlessly.

“Yeah it was. Fuck, I can’t get enough of you. I want you again.” Daryl said.

“Well, I’m tired out. We can do this again next time.” Cheryl said as she recovered to her sitting position and started pulling up her pants.

“No, I want to go again.” Daryl said as he pinned Cheryl down with one hand.

“What are you doing?” Cheryl cried out in alarm.

“Taking you again. I’m addicted to you.” Daryl snarled as he pinned her down and penetrated her once more.

As Cheryl was trying to struggle away from Daryl, Daryl easily pinned her down and starting ramming her pussy from the front. As it was still filled with his cum and her pussy juices, Daryl has no problems fucking her harder and faster. With each thrust, cum and pussy juices flew out of her pussy.

Despite being forced upon this time, Cheryl found it particularly hot. As Daryl was ravaging her from the front and roughly grabbing her tits, Cheryl could not control her body anymore and was betrayed by it as she experienced orgasm over and over again while being roughly fucked.

It wasn’t long before both of them reached climax again and this time, Daryl chose to unleashed his hot load all over her cleavage and sports bra.

As he got up to put on his pants, he snapped a picture of the whole scene for his own viewing pleasure as Cheryl lay there, well fucked and extremely sore.

As he got up to leave, he said to her, “Same time next week?”

“Yes please.” Cheryl said weakly, but filled with excitement as well.

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formidxble · 3 years

Text

𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: fixing ties is a part of your job, so why is your boss acting like it isn’t?

𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 “𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆” 𝒃𝒚 2𝑷𝑴 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄 𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: bang chan x fem!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 13k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut, fluff, slight angst, and established relationship || ceo!bang chan x secretary!reader

𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: romantic sex, dirty talk, (some) possessiveness, marking, oral (female receiving), praising, “sir” kink (? 👀), (some) begging, unprotected sex (remember to always stay safe!!!), creampie

a/n: this is a gift to all you who submitted ceo bang chan asks and to everyone who followed me! thank you so much for 500 followers. i’m a bit late, but thank you! <3 thank you all so much!

little update (061921): three steps back has been posted!! this is a prequel to this fic, but you don’t have to read it in order to understand this one!!

three steps backˏˋ°•*⁀➷masterlist

taglist: @meow-minho @bxngchxn @dreamwrld @my-blueprint-haven @bobateastay @hyunsluvv @etherealeeknow @solistired @popisdead @arohabangtan @imagineinnie @happy-at-home @anna1126 @lattechans @yjunrecords @http-hyxnjxn @minaamhh @violethhj @changlix-mp4 @instachans @qtieskz @itsapapisongo @jisungcherry @healinghyunjin @asweeetdisposition @poutypoutybin @vogueinnie @fizzydrink698 @minniehohos

huge shoutout to @/popisdead for giving me an idea to put in the smut! you know what it is when you read it, l! 😌❤️

please don’t interact with this post if you are under the age of 18!

here we go again.

being the bang chan’s secretary meant that you had to accompany him to every event that required a plus one— public events, soirees, sales pitches, all the like. for the longest time, people have linked you to him and that wherever he went, you were expected to be there. it was almost like clockwork and here you were, beside him again, as he talked to mister seo changbin, the company’s vice chairman and chan’s right hand man. you relax your shoulders slightly.

don’t get it wrong, you loved being with chan and getting to see all the wonderful event venues around the country. people in chan’s level and caliber always threw the grandest of parties and though it was tiring just following your boss around, it was still better than staying at home and fixing chan’s schedule for the week. you also get to meet other high profile names in the industry and the company’s investors, most of which are also in the party tonight.

the party was thrown by the company to celebrate another successful sale made by none other than bang christopher chan. everyone who’s here is here to celebrate chan’s leadership and his success as the company’s youngest CEO. and, not to mention, as changbin lovingly put it just now, “his cockiness”. you giggle beside chan, smiling sheepishly when he gives you a playful glare.

when chang— mr. seo excuses himself to go grab another drink from one of the waiters roaming the hall, chan turns to you with a soft smile, his eyes content. “enjoying?” he asks as he gently swirls the wine glass in his hand.

“trying to,” you tease. you stand up straighter beside him, aware that people have eyes on you. it was one of the complaints you had about being next to chan. he was the center of attention everywhere and because you were beside him always, people tended to stare after they give chan a bow or even if they were gazing from afar. you always had to look presentable and though it came with the job, it gets tiring after a while. chan raises an eyebrow.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you smile. “just a little uncomfortable. that’s all.”

chan hums as he blinks. he surveys the hall before nodding. “if you want, you can go talk to some of the people here.”

chan barely allowed you to leave his side during public events. since you became a staple of his public appearances, seeing him alone always rose some eyebrows. so, why was tonight any different? you scrunch your eyebrows, swallowing as you tilt your head. the side of chan’s lip quirks up as his eyebrows mimic yours. it takes a second for chan to realize why.

“don’t worry about me,” chan laughs. “it’s a company event, so, i guess i can let you go for a bit.”

you look around the hall, frowning to yourself when you don’t spot any familiar faces. how were you supposed to interact with the businessmen in this party and wouldn’t it be weird if you just slid in the conversation? chan senses your hesitation, sucking his lips in as he gazes at the area.

“there’s, um,” chan moves in closer, tilting his glass toward the direction of a small group, “hwang hyunjin. do you remember him?”

of course, you do. chan sent you to the man’s office to confirm a sale a few months ago. you tripped in front of his desk and he only stared at you when you dusted yourself off. it wasn’t the most embarrassing moment in your life, but it was up there on the list. you huff softly.

chan hums once more as he glances at you. “you can talk to him or“—he tilts his glass to another group— “to the people in the office.” he takes a quick sip of his wine before grinning. “get the latest office gossip, like who’s dating who, you know? just all that fun stuff that i don’t get to know.”

office gossip? chan’s asking for juicy office gossip? you can’t blame him. out of all the people in the office, chan’s not the go-to person to talk about office drama. part of you feels bad, but then again, why would he care about one of the interns getting dumped if he’s too busy making sure the company doesn’t go under?

you fight the urge to giggle as you nod. chan catches the smile on your lips and he shakes his head, a soft ‘tsk’ leaving his lips.

“go on,” chan shoos playfully. “go socialize.” you give him a quick bow and before you could say anything else, mr. seo comes back, a full wine glass in his hand once more.

you step aside to look at the two groups chan pointed out. you could play it safe and go to the group you see around the office or you could shoot yourself in the foot and go to the group of millionaires.

you look behind as you feel chan’s eyes on you. once your eyes meet, he raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip of his wine. maybe you could impress him by going to the other group. the thought makes you turn away from him, feet moving in the direction of hwang hyunjin’s group.

you realize that this was a bad idea the moment the blonde-haired man spots you walking towards them. he raises his glass to greet you, head tilted to the side in curiosity and amusement. when you get nearer, the chatter in the group dies down and your mouth grows dry. their stare burns your skin and you can’t help but feel out of place.

“miss y/l/n,” hyunjin calls out, opening his arm out to invite you in the circle. “what brings you to our humble group?”

humble is not a word in this group’s vocabulary, that’s for sure. you smile at them as you inhale through your nose. this is a chance to mingle with the country’s richest and though you were nervous, it wouldn’t hurt to make a good impression, right? transactions in the future should be easier if you play your cards right. so, you part your lips and hum, “mr. bang wanted to get insider information and sent me over.”

the group laughs, almost rhythmically, like it’s been practiced before. nevertheless, the air grows lighter and beside you, hyunjin cracks a smile.

“that bastard. always one step ahead of us,” one of the men laughs. the other men join in and the conversation picks up where it left off— something about the trends in the market. not the most interesting of conversations, but you were already here. hyunjin keeps his eyes on you and he leans over to your side.

“thank goodness you didn’t trip this time around.” your cheeks flush red and you laugh the statement off as you shake your head. “i thought i’d have to relive it all over again.”

“it must have been a nightmare, mr. hwang,” you play along softly. hyunjin hums.

“a nightmare for you, a comedy for me.”

if this was bang chan, you would have shamelessly smacked him. the thought makes you realize how easy-going everything is when it came to your work relationship with chan. after all, the two of you have been working together for almost a decade. during that time, you’ve gotten to know chan in ways his right-hand man hasn’t and he’s gotten to know you in ways previous employers haven’t. the line between work and friendship has been blurred for a long time now, but none of you have complained.

“i’m happy my pain provided entertainment, mr. hwang,” you tease. hyunjin chuckles before finishing his glass of wine. behind you, you feel a set of eyes travel down your back. you ignore the feeling.

despite your lingering thoughts of chan, you couldn’t help but admire the man beside you. just like your boss, hwang hyunjin is one of the younger CEOs in the industry. he was younger than chan, but definitely carried himself in a manner that exuded superiority and grace, like he was on par with the men he’s standing with.

it seems to be the case because one of the businessmen in the group calls his attention, bringing him back to the conversation he was part of earlier. you frown when you see how loose his tie is around his neck.

someone’s secretary isn’t good with ties.

“not a good look,” you remember chan saying. like second nature, you reach over to grab hyunjin’s shoulder, gently turning him to face you. your hands find their way to the man’s tie, sliding the knot up to tighten it. when you look up, hyunjin’s eyes are on you and so are the eyes of the men around you.

the group grows silent and both of your breaths hitch. you’re frozen in your spot, blinking as you see hyunjin’s cheeks turn bright red. his eyes scan your face, panicked and confused. your hands on his tie start to shake and as you’re about to apologize, you feel a hand land on your lower back.

“i’m afraid i’d have to steal her for a bit, hyunjin,” you hear behind you. you bite your lower lip as you lean away from hyunjin, settling into the familiar hand. it takes a second for the blonde-haired man to recover, but he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as he forces a smile.

“go ahead,” hyunjin chuckles shakily. “i’m not about to steal your secretary from you.”

“i’d like to see you try,” chan laughs and as if on cue, the others laugh with him. you give hyunjin an apologetic look when your eyes meet and he responds with a quick bow of his head like it was his fault. you put on your best fake laugh, your heart beating in your ears.

once the men stop laughing, the jokes thrown out earlier dissipate into thin air. and as much as you’d like to believe that these men were all friends, you were knowledgeable enough about the industry to say that this was all for show— the bows, the greetings, the jokes, the laughs, them coming to the party to “celebrate” chan’s success, all of it.

hyunjin’s the first to speak again, moving away from you and chan to close the circle and get away from the awkwardness that has formed between the three of you.

you feel chan remove his hand from your lower back and he uses it to grab your hand. “let’s dance.” chan whispers in your ear. you wet your lip as he leads you to the dance floor and the crowd parts to make way for the man of the hour and his plus one.

chan has always made you feel like you were the only woman in the room and he does it again tonight when he circles around you, his hand not letting go and his eyes never leaving yours. chan grins as he closes the gap between you and you hear your own breath stop. your eyes trail down to his lips when he wraps an arm around your waist.

your heartbeat rings in your ear once more when you and chan start swaying in time with the music. “i thought you didn’t want to dance tonight,” you whisper.

“it doesn’t hurt to have a little fun, you know.”

you rest your forehead on his shoulder as you scoff internally. bang chan, the man whose head is always filled with work, even during events like this, now wants to have fun and dance with his secretary?

you could laugh, but instead you let him lead you on the dance floor. you and he have never done this and you wonder if he feels as nervous as you are. but knowing him, he would never show it, at least not right now.

as the both of you settle in the feeling of each other’s warmth, he mumbles, “you feel it too?”

you shiver as you lean back from his shoulder. you wanted to ask what he meant. was he referring to the way your heart skips a beat when you catch him staring from his office window or when he throws you a soft smile when he walks by your desk? or was he talking about the way his hand lingers for way too long when you give him his coffee or the way his hand subtly reaches out for yours when it’s close to his?

you weren’t stupid. of course, you’ve felt it. everyone in the office has, except for bang chan himself.

maybe it’s not insanity after all. your colleagues aren’t talking out of their asses and there’s a chance, no matter how small it is, that bang chan felt it too. whatever it may be.

chan clicks his tongue when you don’t answer, his eyes scanning your face as you struggle to come up with a coherent thought. he breaks the eye contact before looking around the hall. “everyone’s watching.”

you feel a quick pang of pain in your chest. bang chan, the youngest CEO of his family’s company and the smartest out of all the men in here, is the most oblivious man you’ve ever come across. heat creeps up onto your cheeks and you mentally smack yourself in the head. you were crazy for even hoping that you were both on the same wavelength. it’s just not possible, no matter how much you romanticize the whole situation. you swallow as you nod, hanging your head gently as the both of you continue to sway.

“don’t be shy,” chan chuckles softly. “you’re doing great.”

“yeah, right,” you mumble, playing off the embarrassment and the pain bubbling in your chest. you see a flash of worry pass chan’s eyes, but he doesn’t say anything.

the dance floor slowly fills up with the other couples in the hall, taking the prying eyes off of the two of you. for now. you let out a shaky exhale as chan’s hand squeezes yours.

“you also did great with hyunjin’s tie.”

you raise your eyebrows in surprise, letting out a soft, but nervous giggle. “i have enough experience with yours, sir.” chan snorts before rolling his eyes playfully. he spins the both of you around, wading through the other couples as smoothly as he could manage.

“my ties are of better quality, miss y/l/n. you, of all people, would know.” chan chuckles before his eyes leave yours. he pulls you in closer to him, inhaling softly when you collide with him. what that was for, you don’t know, but you’re close enough to feel his breath on your skin. there must be something in the air.

or maybe he’s just drunk. who knows, really?

“right,” you tease after a few beats of silence, “your ties are imported and his are...?”

“probably imported too,” chan shrugs. “he has the money.”

you scrunch your nose, pulling back from his embrace. “you have to make up your mind. you either talk about him behind his back or you compliment him.” chan tilts his head as he shrugs again, eyes filled with amusement. “you can’t do both.”

“i can do both,” chan mumbles. “i just did it, yes?”

you feel a set of eyes on the both of you, but this time you couldn’t care less. chan, with his charm, wit, and annoying smile, has managed to calm your nerves yet again. it makes you wonder if there was ever a line between friendship and work with the two of you.

you’re taken back to reality as you and chan sway in a comfortable silence, letting the orchestra take you to a world only the two of you knew. you sigh as you turn your head and rest your cheek on his shoulder. you inhale the scent of his cologne, the one you’ve come to know and love after all these years.

“hey,” you hear chan say after a while. you raise your head to meet his eyes before raising an eyebrow. “don’t fix anyone else’s ties when we’re together, okay?”

“are you jealous?” you taunt as you try not to focus on the fact that bang chan’s lips are right there, plump, red, and lonely. chan scoffs, his arm around your waist tightening.

“should i be?”

you laugh, throwing your head back dramatically as chan twirls the both of you around. when he stops, your eyes meet again and he gives you another grin. “you sound like you are.” his grin disappears as quickly as it formed, turning into a small, playful snarl.

“do i? that’s interesting,” chan teases, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “i just,” he breathes, “don’t appreciate you going around the place fixing every man’s tie in here.”

you giggle, lightly smacking chan’s shoulder. “i fixed one, chan,” you snicker. “i fixed one tie. one!”

“that’s one too many ties, sweetheart.” the nickname travels throughout your body. it’s something he’s never called you before. you blush once more, turning your head away from him as you pretend to look at the other couples dancing. chan hums in front of you, unwrapping his arm around you to instead plant his hand on your waist.

“i was just doing my job,” you mutter. chan licks his bottom lip before he responds. your breath stops when you catch him taking in your facial features, but within a second, his eyes travel back to yours.

“i don’t think ‘fixing hwang hyunjin’s tie’ was part of the contract you signed years ago.”

“but fixing your tie is?” you retort.

chan grins at how fast you respond, shrugging playfully before twirling you around. the couples beside you gasp and giggle, your cheeks heating up at the sudden motion and attention. when you return to chan, he’s chuckling as he wraps his arm around your waist again, pulling you into his torso once more.

“you signed up for that the moment you were hired,” chan mutters, lips painfully close to yours. you swallow as your body starts to grow hot from the lack of space between the two of you.

for a moment, the people around you disappear and you could only focus on the way chan’s breath comes in contact with your skin. when he notices your eyes on his lips, he grins as he continues. “that means you’re only fixing my tie.”

you bite your lip when he leans in to whisper, his arm lowering to a place that you weren’t used to, “and the last time i checked, we’re still in a party thrown for me. in my company. in my house.”

your eyes widen when he pulls away, putting a small space in between the two of you. his arm loosens around you and you can’t help but long for its warmth again. your cheeks are flushed red when you part your lips to say, “chan, i—“

“don’t apologize,” chan interrupts, tilting his head as his arm comes back up to its previous position. it’s as if the words that left his mouth earlier were nothing important, like it wouldn’t keep you up at night. “just do better next time.”

you were used to hearing those words from chan, being his secretary. you had to admit that you weren’t the best one for the job, almost always messing up the man’s schedule or just being plain absentminded while you’re sat on your office chair. you’ve lost track of how much you’ve put chan through, but it was always the same seven words he utters when he helps you clean up the mistakes. it’s a miracle you’re still his secretary, almost a decade after.

“as always,” you stutter softly, your breath betraying you when it hitches.

you see the couples on the dance floor dispersing and before you could move away from chan, he pulls you back into his chest to whisper, “let’s get out of here.” you raise an eyebrow.

“this early?” chan nods in response.

“in 10 minutes,” he turns the both of you to the direction of the back door, “i’ll be waiting for you over there.”

you blink at him as his words replay over and over in your mind. bang chan was the type to finish parties to the point that sometimes, you and he were the last people to leave the venue. but now, he wants to leave the party that was thrown specifically to celebrate him?

“this is new,” you choke out. chan chuckles as he steps away from you, hand still not letting go of yours. he brings the back of your hand to his lips and gives it a soft peck. his lips linger on your skin and when his eyes come up to meet yours, he smirks.

“10 minutes.”

when you look at the obnoxiously large clock on the stage at the end of the room, you realize that the minutes have flown by before you even started counting them.

meeting chan’s eyes from across the room, you knew that it was time to leave. he puts his wine glass on the table beside him, giving one of the businessmen a pat on the back as he excuses himself. when he disappears into the crowd, you clasp your hands together as you wonder what he had planned for the remainder of the night.

your eyes fall on chan when you arrive. he’s resting his back on the wall behind him and his shoulders are slumped, a stark contrast from the way he looked inside earlier. his hands are inside his pockets and the top two buttons of his black formal polo are now unbuttoned. he’s looking at the floor as he waits, his foot tapping to the rhythm of the song being performed in the other room. the echo of your heels in the empty room grabs chan’s attention and he raises his head to meet your eyes, a smile on his lips.

“ready to go?” he asks.

“to where, exactly?” you hum, grabbing your phone from your dress pocket to give chan’s driver a quick text.

like the way your breath hitches, your movements halt when chan opens the back door for you. shouldn’t you be the one to open it for him and not the other way around? you motion forward with your hand and chan shakes his head.

“ladies first.”

“listen, i don’t know what you’re doing,” you start, “but i know you’re expecting something in return after this.” chan lets out an exhale through his nose as he smiles. “so, i think you should step out first.”

“maybe, i just want to do something for you this time,” chan shrugs. “have you ever thought of that?”

chan watches the way your cheeks heat up and before any of you could say anything else, you hear a honk outside. he’s the first to break the eye-contact, looking behind to wave at his driver. he turns his attention back to you with a cheeky grin on his lips.

“like i said, ladies first.”

you narrow your eyes toward him, but you step out nonetheless. behind you, you hear the door close and chan’s walking toward the car before you could blink. you follow after him, your heels clacking on the concrete. you overtake him as you near the car, your hand gripping the handle to open the door for him. his hand makes contact with yours, enveloping it as he does the same.

your eyes meet and it might have been because of the cold night air, but you see the color of bang chan’s cheeks turn into a light shade of red. you try to stop yourself from shivering when he grips your hand tighter to open the car door. your eyes don’t leave him as it opens and he motions for you to enter first.

you hesitate. wasn’t this your job?

“y/n,” you hear him call, “i insist.”

you sigh, but don’t say anything else when you slip your hand out of his grip, ducking as you get inside the backseat. chan follows soon after, closing the car door and greeting his driver as he relaxes his back on the seat behind him.

chan’s driver turns to him as he asks, “where to, sir?”

he answers, “take us home, please.”

and with that, chan presses the button to slide the partition close.

the words that left his mouth almost give you whiplash. it was such a simple sentence, but somehow, your brain couldn’t comprehend it. you open your mouth as you turn to give chan a look. he reciprocates as he cocks his head to the side, chest glistening underneath the streetlights.

“i apologize if that was a bit forward, but is it okay if i bring you to my place?” your boss hums, putting his arm on the curve of the backseat. “i figured we could work there instead of the office.”

you let his words settle into you the same way you lean back on the seat. your mind travels back to the calendar you prepared and submitted to him last sunday—a couple of meetings on monday and tuesday, a press conference on wednesday, and a celebratory party on thursday. and since everyone’s too hungover to function the next day, friday’s scheduled to be a lighter one, as requested by chan himself. you furrow your eyebrows, looking up at the ceiling to wonder, did you somehow forget the details you put on the schedule?

and not just details, but work? didn’t you and chan rush two days worth of tasks the previous nights so that the both of you can, as you quote him, “enjoy the party”? but, here you were, on the way to his house to work. again.

chan catches the look in your eyes. “it’s nothing heavy. i just need your help.”

“and why wasn’t this plotted in your official schedule?” you question, letting your eyes drift to his, an eyebrow raised.

chan’s eyes widen and he brings his forearm up to scratch the side of his head. “it’s...it’s really not that important to warrant a spot in my calendar.”

“but, important enough for you to ask for my help?”

the color on chan’s cheeks disappear and his smile drops the way his arm does to his side. he scoffs softly. “if it’s work related, of course.” he shakes his head. “you’re my secretary. a part of your job is to heed every call.”

“is this what i have to do since you opened the door for me earlier?”

“‘this’ being?”

“staying up all night with you again. working.”

chan rests his elbow on the window beside him. “that’s never been a problem for you, y/n,” he pauses. “why is it a problem now?”

you weren’t one to complain, but was it such a bad thing to long for a break? sure, the party takes place inside the company’s hall, but you didn’t have to be hunched over a desk, reading through paperwork to summarize and report or make him coffee to keep him awake. you weren’t required to do things for him—to work— because the both of you were there to have fun, mingle, and socialize with all of the other hot shots in the industry.

you were hoping, even just for one night, that you’d escape work responsibilities, that chan would have something fun planned for tonight.

but, maybe you expected for too much from bang christopher chan.

his dry laugh interrupts your thoughts. “unless you’d rather be with hwang hyunjin on that dance floor?”

“hwang hyun— are you kidding me?” you exclaim, eyes wide, as you turn to him. “you’re picking a fight because of hwang hyunjin? i can’t believe this.”

you huff as you cross your arms in front of your chest, looking away from chan to gaze out the window. the previous topic of the calendar is thrown out and it joins the blur of the buildings moving past the car. never in your life have you despised a three-letter word until now, when memories of tonight are slowly overpowered by the word tie.

you hear chan take a deep breath and you couldn’t help but wonder if the man is actually jealous. if so, you’d prefer he tell you, rather than going back and forth. but then again, you were perfectly fine sitting like this with him—silent and unmoving. it stays like this for a few good minutes, until, in the corner of your eye, you see chan’s knee start bouncing. if it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t—

“i don’t see the big deal,” you sigh exasperatedly. “it’s just a damn tie.” before your hands even fall to your lap, chan’s eyes are on you like they never left.

he turns his body to you, motioning with his hands as he frowns. “it’s not just a tie to me. do you know how close th—“

“so, you are jealous?” you ask, putting a hand on your forehead as your skin heats up. “you’re jealous because i fixed another man’s tie?”

he furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head, as he grips the curve of the backseat. “i—“

“chan, you’re not even wearing a tie tonight! what am i supposed to fix—oh my god!“

the air in the car grows heavy as you try and catch your breath. chan slowly lowers his head to gaze upon his exposed chest. the tips of his ears turn red and it quickly travels down to his cheeks and neck. he swallows as he rubs his nape, a sheepish grin replacing the frown he had on earlier.

it was moments like this that make you wonder if chan’s really the smartest man you know.

“i guess you’re right,” chan whispers. “i’m sorry.”

“you should be,” you say in disbelief. “god, chan, it’s not like i wanted to do it!” he raises his eyebrows, letting out a soft hum, as he nods at your words. you crinkle your nose as you continue. “it was an honest mistake that i”— you point to yourself—“wholeheartedly regret doing and before yo—“

“i just don’t like other men looking at you the same way i do,” chan cuts you off, volume higher than usual. “okay? that’s it.” your boss slices the air to, quite literally, cut the tension. “end of argument.”

absolutely not. not after what he just said.

chan shrugs as he turns away from you to rest his elbow on the window once more. your heart pounds in your chest as his words float around in your mind, attacking every single thought that had made its presence known. your mind becomes an empty void and when you come to your senses—one of them—your skin forms goosebumps.

and it’s not because of the ac in the car.

“help me understand what’s happening right now, chan.”

“y/n,” chan groans softly. “if only you saw the way hyunjin looked at you. his eye—“

“i tripped in front of him!”

“and that’s the charm of it all,” chan states as he turns to look at you. your eyes meet and your heart skips a beat. you blink at him and he sighs.

“you’re different from all of the other women in there. you’re a breath of fresh air.”

your shoulders relax, but your hands begin to sweat. your anger and frustration have now been replaced by confusion and the butterflies in your stomach, which have been reserved for the man in front of you, start flapping their wings as your cheeks heat up. you’re about to ask what he meant, but chan parts his lips and it shuts you up quickly.

“it’s hard to let our guards down. the industry’s full of competition, full of rivalry, so you have to have thick skin,” chan pauses to shrug. “the businessmen in that party don’t care about my success, nor do the media. they only care about what’s next for us, what’s next for the company, all that good stuff.” chan sighs, “you know what i mean.”

“because of that,” he clicks his tongue, “i can’t have friends, nor can i have relationships because i’m never sure why they’re with me.” chan laughs bitterly and you feel a bit of resentment seeping out as he continues. “is it about the money? the fame? corporate espionage? fuck if i know,” chan looks back out of the window. on his thigh, you see his fist clench.

it was at this moment that you knew that this was not bang christopher chan, but this was only chan beside you, the complex, but relaxed and soft-spoken man you were privileged enough to know and spend time with during late nights in the office. a side of him no one else saw, but for some reason, he was willing to share as you sat beside him on his office couch.

the silence that comes after is louder than anything you’ve heard at the party earlier. you decide to take the leap, reach out, and hold his hand.

“y/n,” he breathes out, stopping your hand. “you’re different, okay? you’re different because you’ve never made me feel that way.” chan runs a hand through his hair. “the men and women in the office tiptoe around me, like there’s eggshells or something,” chan hangs his head down as he taps his fingertips on his thigh. “but you, you barely ever do.”

your breath catches in your throat and you whimper, “chan—“

“i’m not finished,” chan jokes shakily, turning his body to you this time. “you’re not afraid to make mistakes when you’re around me, laugh at my jokes, or sometimes, you just sit there and listen to me ramble.” chan smiles to himself. “you tell me what’s on your mind, your opinions, your views and most of the time, that’s the highlight of my day, not”— he motions with his hands—“the sale i’ll be making in the afternoon or the press conference we’ve got planned.”

us, we. always the duo, you and chan were. but why does tonight feel different and why is the sparkle in his eyes more prominent than before? “hell,” chan rolls his eyes playfully, “you even answer back to me. not a lot of people get that privilege.” even if your eyebrows are furrowed, your lips part to let out a soft giggle.

“and it does infuriate me,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “but i’ll let you do it.” chan lets his eyes meet yours and you freeze.

“over and over again.”

you feel as if a strong wind blows in the car, knocking you back into the seat. you grip the side of your dress to keep your hand from shaking. chan’s stare burns your skin and you try your best not to melt into the car itself. he inhales, “whenever you talk back, it makes me feel human. it reminds me that”—he puts a hand over his chest—“i’m not perfect, that i make mistakes, and that i should let my pride down sometimes.”

“sometimes?” you interrupt. chan’s ears perk up when he hears you and he lets his shoulders relax, his eyes growing soft and a grin forming on his lips.

“yes, sometimes,” chan snickers. “but, i guess what i’m trying to say is,” he sighs, “you make me feel human, not a business drone or ‘the most successful CEO of the year’.”

before you could respond or even make sense of the point, chan quickly adds, “and you probably made hyunjin feel the same way when you tripped. i remember you told me that he bursted out laughing as soon as you left his office.”

“yeah,” you deadpan. “thanks for that memory.” beside you, chan chuckles and the car slows down when the light turns red.

“anytime.”

and with a small smile on his lips, your boss at the other end of the seat looks back out of the window. in the corner of your eye, you see chan’s hand on the middle of the seat. you’re almost tempted to take it into yours as your mind travels to the words he uttered only moments ago.

there’s a reason why he’s awarded as the country’s most successful CEO. chan, as lovingly labelled by the media, is the industry’s Wolf, a title that was given to him during his second year in the position. and though many have come close, like the blonde-haired man in the party earlier, chan has never been overthrown by any other. sharp and smart, bang chan has done more than his father ever could, bringing the company to the international stock market and to other heights that only the other CEOs could dream of.

but, all these achievements came at a price. it’s lonely at the top, as they’ve said, and with bang chan, you saw that very statement come to life. chan, because of his reputation and riches, has closed himself up to make sure his mind and his company stays ahead and clear. that, of course, meant that he had to solve his personal problems on his own.

because who would the man on top run to when there’s no one else with him?

however, with his words, you realize that, maybe, you were that person for him. the person he can laugh and joke around with. the person he can talk to freely, ramble to, and spend time with. the person that allows him to be himself, no judgements, no pressure.

though, you’ve always felt some sort of tension between the two of you, it was enough to know that chan saw you more than just his secretary. you’d rather have him that way, than nothing at all. you turn to him.

you’re about to thank him, but chan’s voice rings out in the car as the light outside turns green. “and apart from all of that, you’re gorgeous too.”

“excuse me?” you choke out, eyes widening. chan turns to you, an eyebrow raised as he exhales through his nose. a soft ‘what?’ leaves his lips. “did i have too much to drink tonight?” chan merely chuckles at the question.

“you didn’t have any,” he responds. you shake your head as you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

it couldn’t be possible. was this a dream? first, chan became slightly possessive and now he’s calling you gorgeous like it won’t affect you, like you’ll believe him. the world must be punishing you right now, but if you close your eyes, maybe you’ll wake up in your apartment like it’s groundhog day. as you try and shut the world off, chan calls out your name and it brings you back to the car.

“do you want me to repea—“

“no!” you exclaim, leaning over to grab chan’s forearm.

chan glances at your hand, then at your lips. it’s through this subtle action that you realize how close the two of you are. he blinks at you while his cheeks become coated with a nice shade of red, but he doesn’t pull his arm away. “well, you heard me,” he utters. “i apologize if i don’t say it enough or don’t say it at all.”

you’re about to lose your mind.

“but, um,” chan uses his free hand to scratch the back of his neck, “you really are beautiful. hwang hyunjin knows it, changbin knows it, the staff in the office know it, and i know it.” chan pauses as his eyes scan your face for any reaction, to which you respond only with your mouth slightly opening.

he huffs as he furrows his eyebrows, “i know it because i get to be with you everyday and i’d be stupid to deny it to myself any further.”

“and yes, it does bother me when men stare at you,” chan continues. your chest tightens and you couldn’t breathe, but it’s somehow the good kind, the kind that you don’t want to end, the kind that you could get used to.

“they see how much of a great woman you are, in the office and out of it. i’m glad they do, but at the same time,” chan pauses to remove his forearm from your grip. he wraps both of his hands around your wrists.

“you and i have been together for so long that i can’t see myself working with anybody new.” you blink. “what if they take you away? what if they offer you a higher salary or promise you more opportunities? or what if the—“

“chan,” you whisper, “just tell me what you want to say.” the man in front of you lets out a shaky breath and when he opens his mouth once more, a mess of incoherent words come out.

“just give it to me straight.” you plead. both of your eyes lock as his breath intertwines with yours.

you’ve only really lit one firework in your whole life.

how it goes is you strike a match to ignite a spark and while it travels down the incredibly long wick, it gives you ample time to run away and cower. the experience of running and waiting was thrilling, but what came after was underwhelming—the spark did not carry over to its destination.

but as chan presses his lips on yours, his hands tightening around your wrists to pull you in closer, you’re finally able to see the spark reach its destination after the 8 years of long, agonizing wait. the firework fires up into the sky, the black canvas being painted by a million different colors all at once. chan removes his hands around your wrists to cup your face.

now, you can say that you’ve lit two fireworks in your life.

compared to the absolute chaos happening inside of your body, the kiss is slow and gentle with chan’s lips, soft and plump, perfectly fitting into yours like a puzzle piece you never knew was missing. you tangle your hands into his hair to push him into you deeper and chan lets you, tilting his head to the side.

chan’s hand is the match that ignites another spark in your chest as it travels down to the side of your neck. your heart pounds louder when his hand settles on your skin, the heat from his fingertips combining with the heat that has formed on your neck.

you find yourself leaning back to the corner of your seat and before you could process it, chan’s on top of you. your skin forms goosebumps when his hand moves down to your waist. when you arch your back and push your torso onto his, you rip a soft groan from the back of his throat.

chan pushes himself off of you, his pupils dilated and his breath not being remotely enough for him.

“what was that for?” you whisper, your chest heaving. outside, you see his mansion come into view.

“you said to give it to you straight.”

but, fuck, you wanted more. you wanted curves, zigzags, waves, all of it. as long as chan’s lips are on yours again, you wanted it all.

truth be told, you’ve never set foot in chan’s house. you’ve only seen the mansion through the car window, but you knew, one way or the other, you’ll be able to see what lies inside. of course, you were his secretary. heed every call, right?

you just didn’t envision that it’d be in this way.

“chan—“

you don’t finish your sentence as you’re gently pushed back onto the front door once it closes. chan’s on you like the way he was in the car, but this time, he’s closer, the distance almost non-existent as he puts his hands on your waist. goosebumps arise from your skin as his lips find their way to your neck. you’ve always thought you were stronger than this, but you’re already gasping for air when he starts peppering kisses down your skin.

“chan,” you breathe. he comes up from the side of your neck with his eyebrow raised and a small grin on his lips. “i thought we had work to do.”

chan hums nonchalantly in response and he merely dives back in your neck, closing the space between the two of you like you weren’t close enough. you find yourself tilting your head to give him more access and chan, being the smart man he is, notices this immediately. he grunts softly and you shiver, his lips latching onto the sides he hasn’t taken in.

you bite your lip, but as much as you were enjoying the attention, especially after 8 years of longing, you and chan had to work. knowing him, he’d value work over this in a heartbeat. you try and push him off of you, but he only tightens his grip.

“chan,” you whine, “this can wai—“

“no,” he mutters as he pulls you into his torso, “it can’t.” he hovers his lips on yours, his hot breath hitting your skin. “i don’t want to wait anymore.” you gasp when he squeezes your waist.

“i can’t. not anymore.”

though chan’s tone is stern, there’s longing in his voice like he’s a man who’s been denied of life’s pleasures for years and frankly, you feel the same way. he didn’t have to say anything else before you’re clashing your lips into his, your hands travelling to his hair and tugging on it. chan presses his body onto yours and you’re pushed back on the door again. you whimper.

chan’s clothed torso is hot against yours and its heat travels down in between your thighs. your wetness pools in your panties and before you knew it, he’s unwrapping his arm from your waist to lift you up. your legs wrap around his torso in an instant, like the both of you have done this before. he grins into the kiss, his hands finding their way to the curve of your ass as he starts walking to his bedroom.

even with his eyes closed and his neck craned up to keep his lips on yours, chan wades smoothly through his furniture and the both of you make it up the stairs with no problem. you should have been more concerned, but knowing bang chan, he’s got you. always have and always will, that much you know. he does, however, accidentally slam you onto his bedroom door. you wince.

“sorry,” chan mumbles. “won’t happen again.”

“excited?” you tease softly. chan chuckles against your lips as he reaches out to grab the door handle.

“very.” you feel a gush of wind hit your back as the door opens. his lips are on yours again as the both of you make your way in.

he lies you down on the bed, your hair splaying all over your shoulders and on the sheets behind you. when chan pulls away, he latches himself onto the skin behind your ear and you sigh as you put your hand on the back of his head. you arch your back into him when you feel his member hardening from below you and all he could do is chuckle, though a bit shaky.

chan runs a hand down to your waist as you spread your legs open to accommodate him. “you’re already so beautiful,” he breathes on your skin, “and you aren’t even naked yet.”

your breath catches in your throat, whimpering in response. it was overwhelming enough to learn that chan finds you beautiful, but to think that he’s thought of you unclothed? you could die happy now, as cheesy as that sounds. he comes up from your neck to press a soft kiss on your jaw. his free hand trails up the side of your body, fingers playing with the zipper located on the side of the dress.

“may i?”

the question rings out in the room and it echoes in the confines of your mind. such a simple, harmless question, but you feel blood rush to every part of your body. your legs close around his torso, your clit starting to throb at the prospect of being undressed by the man you’ve been hopelessly in love with. you nod and chan whispers a soft ‘thank you’ as he starts unzipping your dress.

as you feel your dress start unravelling with his touch, you inhale, taking in chan’s scent. it’s a combination of mint and lemon and it’s something you’ve gotten used to after years of working with him. it’s never been anything but cologne to you, but tonight it’s ambrosial and intoxicating. you let yourself drown in it, closing your eyes as chan’s lips continue to do their wonders on your neck.

the cold air hits your skin once chan fully unzips your dress and it brings you back to his bed, in his presence, in his hold. you whimper softly in his ear. he squeezes your waist, grunting as he presses a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“i can’t believe we waited this long,” chan whispers. you giggle before slowly slipping your arms out of your now loose dress straps. you don’t break the eye contact as you tug your dress down to your chest. the dip in between your tits catches chan’s attention and he breaks the stare to shamelessly trail his eyes down.

chan licks his bottom lip before he looks back up at you.

“we don’t have to wait anymore,” you reassure, reaching a hand up to swipe your thumb over his lip, glistening and swollen.

at your words, chan’s eyes dilate and darken. the color of his cheeks turn into a shade of red and as you’re about to tease, chan tugs your dress down your chest, exposing your breasts in all of its entirety. heat travels all over your body and your nipples harden under his touch. chan dips down to your chest like the bead of sweat trickling down your back and you can only moan when his lips start sucking the skin in between your breasts.

you whimper when he cups one of your tits, kneading it softly as he continues to suck on the skin. your hand finds its way to chan’s shoulder and you grip it as he pulls away with a soft pop. chan gazes up at you before smirking, your words failing you once again when he attaches his lips beside your nipple, nipping on the skin to leave another mark.

you moan his name as your hand latches onto the back of his head, pulling him into your skin even more. his teeth graze you and you arch your back into him, only to be pushed down by his hand on your waist. he doesn’t say anything once he pulls away, only going back in to leave more marks on your chest.

as if the marks weren’t proof of who you belonged to, chan utters, “mine.” you squeeze his shoulder tighter. “all mine.”

maybe, this is why chan’s called “the Wolf”.

your mouth falls open, his name falling off of it as his lips wrap around your nipple. the hand on your waist moves back up to cup your other breast. one of chan’s fingers plays with your other nipple and your hips lifts up to meet him, your heat making contact with his member. chan groans onto your skin, the vibrations travelling back down to where you ached for him.

“you say my name so prettily, babe.” the nickname shoots you straight in the chest and your heart aches. never in a million years did you think that chan would be on you the way he was now. the thought makes you whine softly. you feel chan’s hand move away from your breast. it follows the curve of your body and it slips in between your thighs, making you spread your legs even further apart. chan chuckles breathlessly.

you shiver when he presses his fingers in the front of your panties and you bite your lip when he starts rubbing, his tongue on your nipple following the motion of his fingers below you. as most new lovers, however, chan’s missing where you needed him most and you move your hips to help him find it. chan’s off of your nipple the moment you call out above him, chest slightly heaving as he looks up at you.

“can you move—“ you pant, “to the left?”

it takes a second for him to realize, the movement of his fingers slowing to a halt as he tilts his head. he blushes softly when he does and he chuckles. “i... just—“ he complies with your needs, but he’s still not—

“oh fuck. yeah,” you cry out when he finally finds your nub. “right there, chan. right there.”

“yeah baby,” he grunts, a smirk taking over his lips after. “i feel you.”

it’s amazing how chan’s making you see stars when he’s only rubbing you through your panties. chan notices this too, pecking one of the marks he left on your chest as he hums, moving down in between your legs. he inhales softly, fingers still making circles on your clit.

“god,” he groans. “you smell so sweet.” your wetness gushes out of you and you grip the sheets beside you, biting your lip as you feel his hot breath caress your folds. chan raises his eyes and he licks his lip when your eyes lock.

“i want to taste you.”

so simple, so straightforward, yet so obscene coming from the mouth of an executive. chan grins when you breathe a ‘yes’, your back arching when he hooks a finger on the waist band of your panties, teasingly taking his time as he pulls it down your thighs. you buck your hips up and chan snickers, “okay, okay. i got it.”

he puts your panties aside before he comes back up to your torso. his clothed member is dangerously close to yours and you’re almost tempted to grind yourself onto him. “let’s get this off,” chan mumbles as he tugs on your dress. “now.”

it may be the secretary in you or it may just be the lust that’s driving you at this point, but you’re scrambling to help chan get rid of the dress that’s clinging to your body. you shiver when it’s removed fully, the dress hitting the floor with a soft thud. chan looks down at you and he lets out a long breath like he’s been holding one in. you blush and instinctively, your hands try to cover your body. he frowns as he leans back down to grab a hold of your hands.

“no,” he mumbles before pressing a kiss on your lips. “your body’s beautiful. you’re beautiful. don’t hide from me.”

chan lets go of your hands and you let them fall down to your sides. “do you know how long i’ve wanted to see you like this?” he mutters as he kisses down your torso. goosebumps form on your skin. “especially when you wear those skirts.”

your heart pounds in your chest when he settles in between your thighs, kissing them before he dips down to press a kiss on your clit. your hand goes to his hair, your core clenching at the feeling of being empty.

“sir—“

“oh, that’s so cliché,” chan interjects, a playful smile on his lips as he raises his head. the atmosphere in the room changes and you find yourself opening your eyes as you prop yourself up with your elbows. you raise an eyebrow as heat travels to your cheeks.

“i—“

“if i got off to that nickname, i would have had a hard-on every time you called me sir.”

you roll your eyes with a huff as you lie back down on the bed. “just get on with it.”

“wow,” he laughs softly, “my secretary’s ordering me around now?”

truthfully, you loved banter with chan, but not tonight. not when he’s there, in between your thighs, purposefully ignoring the sex that’s staring him straight in the eyes. always the tease, bang chan was. you’re just not having it tonight.

“i’m not your secretary right now.”

you hear chan inhale sharply and within a second, he’s on your core like a fiend craving a shot of his drug. your hand’s on his hair again, tugging on it as you moan incoherently. he licks a stripe from your hole to your clit, the lewd sounds of his tongue lapping your wetness ringing out in the room after. your hip bucks up when he starts sucking on your clit and he puts your leg over his shoulder in the process to give him more access to your folds.

“you’re so delicious,” chan groans. “better than anything i’ve ever tasted.” you moan out brokenly, pulling him back into your clit like your life depended on it. he chuckles against it and the vibrations allow an explosion of a million fireworks inside of you. your mouth falls open the way your legs do, your moans filling the room with the sound of chan’s full lips on your pussy.

chan smirks below you, obviously pleased by the way your body is reacting to him. it’s embarrassing, but that’s what he gets for taking his precious time with you. you know he won’t let this go any time soon, but you couldn’t care less. he pecks your clit before pulling away. your clit throbs at the loss of the friction, but chan makes up for it when he plunges two of his fingers inside of you.

the intrusion is sudden, but welcome, as your back flies off of the bed with a loud cry, sitting up as you grip his shoulder. chan mewls softly as he plants a hand outside of your thigh to support himself as he leans up to crash his lips into yours. you taste your juices on him when he swipes his tongue on your bottom lip and your wetness seeps out, dripping onto the sheets below you. his fingers continue their assault on your pussy, alternatively thrusting and rubbing your walls.

chan pulls away from the kiss and a string of your combined spit attaches itself on his bottom lip. he breaks the string by licking his bottom lip and you find it unfair how chan’s lips just continue to look immaculate despite how swollen and red it is. he simpers as he rests his forehead on yours, sweat starting to form on its sides.

“do you hear yourself, baby?” he purrs. “do you hear how wet you are for me?” for him, for him, for him. all for chan, all for the man you’ve loved for years now. your hand wraps around his nape, pulling chan into your shoulder as he continues to thrust into your heat. he groans as he bites down on the skin, the sound of your slick overpowering anything else in the bedroom. you feel the familiar coil starting to form in your lower regions.

your cunt clenches around his fingers when he curls them and your hips start to gyrate. “y/n,” chan moans, “you’re getting so tight.” you whimper his name as your wetness coats his fingers even more, the sound and the smell of your sex getting more and more prominent as the coil in your stomach threatens to unravel for chan.

“cum for me, baby,” he growls. “cum.”

chan wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into him as ecstasy takes over the entirety of your body. you shake and tremble in his hold as he whispers sweet nothings and praises in your ear. his fingers slow to help you ride out your orgasm and he hums as your legs continue to shiver at his sides. he thrusts his fingers in once, twice, before he pulls them out, pulling away from the embrace to lick his fingers clean. he groans in delight.

you’re panting as you push chan onto the bed, getting on top of him before pressing your swollen lips onto his. naturally, his hands fall onto your hips as your lips move in sync. you run your hand down his clothed chest, the satin feeling supple against your fingertips. your desire, fuelled by the adrenaline surging through your veins, makes you whimper as you pop open the remaining buttons of chan’s polo.

every pop is significant to the way the both of you are letting yourselves go, baring your bodies and souls to each other after years of not being able to, after years of merely hoping. your heart pounds as you rip open chan’s polo, sighing as his torso shines underneath the light streaming inside the bedroom. chan pulls you back into his lips with a gentle hand on the back of your neck.

chan’s lips are soft on yours and you let yourself get carried away as you cup his face. chan hums as he sits up to remove his polo, lips not moving away from yours. he throbs in between your thighs and you gasp. chan takes this opportunity to slip his tongue to connect with yours and the both of you create a new language in the process.

“you’re so beautiful, y/n,” he whines as the both of you pull away. “you’ve always been so beautiful.”

you blush, your hand caressing his cheek gently as you utter a soft ‘thank you’. you share one more quick kiss before your hand moves down his torso to start unbuckling his pants. “let me return the favor.”

“no,” chan answers, reaching down to hold your wrist. “you don’t need to.”

“baby—“

he tightens his hold on your wrist as he pleads softly, “please. you always take care of me, y/n.” he leans up to mutter on your lips, “let me do that for you tonight.”

you weren’t strong enough to refuse the offer and you let chan raise you up from his lap, only to be lied down on the bed once more. you relax into the mattress as chan positions himself in between your legs. as he unbuckles his belt, your mind travels to the moment in the car and you can’t help but wonder—

“you meant what you said earlier, right?”

chan’s eyes are on you immediately as he hears your voice, his hands stopping. “of course, i did.”

“you didn’t just say that to get in my pants?”

chan bites his lip to suppress a laugh and he shakes his head as his hands resume their task earlier. “no,” he giggles. “if that was my plan the whole time, i would have just said ‘hey, i’m bang chan’ and your pants would have slid right off.”

you throw your head back onto the pillows as you laugh softly. “that didn’t happen when you interviewed me.”

“yeah, well,” chan mumbles, sliding out of his pants, “it’s happening now.”

“8 years after, but okay.”

“it’s still happening, so my point still stands,” chan shrugs, chuckling when he sees you cross your arms in front of your chest. “i’m sorry,” he laughs as he leans down to kiss you. “i’m kidding.”

“you’re so full of yourself, babe,” you tease.

your smile disappears when chan’s cock springs out of his boxers, thick and hard, with the tip red and glistening as pre-cum leaks out of it. the base is adorned with his veins, prominent enough to show up in the darkness. his cock twitches and your mouth opens, salivating at the sight of him.

when you look back up, you let your eyes take in chan and you marvel at him, basking in the presence of a man whose body looks like it has been sculpted by the Gods up above. shoulders broad, muscles defined, your core throbs and tightens at the promise of getting to have him tonight.

it was here that you understood that you didn’t need to be swept off of your feet or be brought to anywhere else fancy when bang chan, in all of his glory, is no place you’ve ever been to. you’re more than willing to get to know him tonight and let him take you where he pleased.

“you’re about to be full of me in a second,” he jokes, smirking. his cheeks turn pink and you try your best to ignore the fondness brewing in your stomach. despite putting on his confident facade, you know chan is as nervous as you are. “lie back.”

you rest your back on the sheets below you, your legs opening to welcome chan in between them for the second time tonight. the feeling of his hands on the side of your body awakens something feral in you and before you can process the reaction, you buck your hips up onto him, your wet core brushing his hard cock. he groans as he pulls away, spitting on his palm before smearing it all over his member. you lick your lip before reaching up to hold his nape once more.

“ready?” he asks as he pumps himself, lining himself up in front of your core.

you feel as if you’re walking a tightrope when he asks you the question. one misstep and you’re falling into everything that encapsulated him, into everything that was bang chan. were you ready to let go and let him overwhelm you? after 8 long years, you finally let your foot slip and the next thing you know, you’re looking back up at chan, hand squeezing his shoulder as you say,

“ready as i’ll ever be, baby.”

it’s as if the gates of heaven opened when chan pushes himself in you, the both of your moans creating a melodic symphony that echoes in the bedroom. his girth parts your walls and the feeling burns ever so slightly. you whimper as you bite your lip, throwing your head back onto the pillows. a comforting hand rests on your waist as he stops at his thickest.

“you’re so big,” you choke out. he hums as he leans down to bury his face in your neck to smile against it. chan presses a soft kiss on your skin as he bottoms out, groaning softly when your cunt clenches around him. you put a hand on his back, pressing his skin as he pulls out fully. he pushes back in roughly, the sound of his balls hitting your skin echoing in the whole room. you claw at his back as you arch yours, gasping, and he grunts softly.

chan starts thrusting, his skin grinding against your swollen nub. “your pussy’s so tight, babe,” he moans. you sigh in response as your legs wrap around his torso, pushing him in you even deeper. you needed him, you wanted him, and you’re here to make sure you get to experience bang chan in ways you’ve never experienced him. it doesn’t matter how many he’s had before you. what matters is that he’s in you now, thrusting his cock and taking you to heaven.

“you’re so good,” you praise, voice cracking as a whine comes out. “you’re so good to me.”

“yeah?” chan breathes, a smug smile forming on his lips. his chest heaves as he continues to ram into you. his skin is hot against yours and you drown in the feeling and in his scent. “you’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” you whine in response. “such a dirty mind for a refined secretary. ”

chan bites down on your shoulder before slowing his thrusts, raising his head from your neck. “turn around.”

it doesn’t register quickly, but once it does, you’re off of his cock to get on fours, planting your hands on the soft mattress and arching your back to expose yourself to chan. he groans behind you, hovering over you as he puts a hand on the headboard in front of you.

“tell me what you want,” chan whispers, pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“baby, please,” you cry. “you know.”

chan snickers, pushing only the tip of his cock in. “i need to hear you say it.”

“chan—“

“tell me, baby. tell me what you want.”

“your cock, chan. please, i want it. i need it. i want to feel you inside me, please. pl—“

chan squeezes your hips before pounding his cock inside of you. you cry out his name, throwing your head back as your eyes close. you get lost in chan’s grunts, letting them wrap themselves around your body the way chan’s arm snakes around your waist. he pulls your body back into him, your back flushing against his chest. the sounds of your slick coating chan’s cock as he continues to ram into you rings in your ears and you feel your clit ache below you.

“god, baby,” chan grunts. “it’s like my cock’s made for you.”

you whine at his words, your hand making its way down to rub circles on your clit. chan growls softly, removing his hand from the headboard to hold your wrist.

“let me,” he mutters. “let me take you there.”

you weren’t about to say no.

the promise of an orgasm looms on you as chan draws rough circles on your clit. his thrusts start to syncopate from his rhythm and he pushes you back down on the bed gently. you bury your face on his soft sheets and you turn your head to the side as you moan and whine an incoherent mess of praises and curses. you grip the sheets as you spread your legs apart and your thighs start to shake as chan presses his fingers down on your clit.

“baby,” you rasp, tears forming in the corner of your eyes, “i can’t—“

chan grunts, “you want to cum for me again?”

“yes, please, please, pl—“

“gush on my cock, baby. let me feel you.”

it’s pure ecstasy when you do, letting yourself go in the pleasure of everything that was bang chan—his moans, grunts, breathing, cock, everything. you cry out into his sheets and grip them until your knuckles turn white. your legs try to close as your whole body shakes and just like the first time, chan takes you to a place you’ve never been, your vision turning blurry as he continues to pound you. your toes curl as you moan his name, like it’s the only word in your vocabulary. behind you, chan whines softly.

“where do you want me to cum?”

you don’t respond immediately, body shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm. “inside,” you pant. “give it to me.”

chan cries, “jesus, fuck.” he loses his rhythm completely as he leans over you, his sweat falling on your back. “shit, y/n, baby, i— ”

he thrusts a few more times before he grabs your hips, pulling you into him with a groan as he spills his cum, hot and sticky, inside of you. your pussy clamps down on his cock as he grinds inside you to ride his high out, his hand finding its way to the dip of your back. he pulls out after a short while and you whine at the emptiness that comes with it. you do, however, feel both of your juices seep out of you, dripping down on his bed sheets.

“what a sight,” chan mutters behind you as you let your body fall on the bed. you giggle softly as you close your legs, the high wearing down as your body starts to feel heavy. you have a feeling you’d be sore tomorrow, but the both of you weren’t expecting many to come into work, anyway. so, you’ll end up getting away with it. for now. the bed dips beside you and chan pulls you into him, your back against his chest.

for a moment, you listen to his breathing and focus on the way his fingers lied on your stomach. your eyes start to grow heavy, but you hear chan whisper, “are you okay?”

“i am,” you respond softly, turning around to face him. once your eyes meet, chan smiles as he tucks a hair strand on the back of your ear. his hair is disheveled and wet with sweat, but still, chan looked as well put together as he always does. you lean up to kiss him, your lips moving slowly on each other. when you pull away, chan’s eyes are twinkling and he lets out a soft hum of satisfaction.

“so,” you mumble, playfully tapping his bottom lip, “are we still going to work tonight?”

chan groans, throwing his head back with a chuckle. “it can wait.”

“no. it can’t,” you tease, pressing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. chan’s arms around your waist tighten as he pulls you closer.

“don’t use my words against me,” chan grins. he places his hand on the back of your head, lightly stroking your hair. your eyes grow heavy and the next thing you know, you’re wavering in between falling asleep and staying awake.

you do hear chan’s voice in the midst of all of this, a soft and gentle, “hey, i love you.” you feel him kiss your forehead before you blissfully fall into oblivion.

you wake up when chan’s bedroom door bursts open, the door handle hitting the wall.

you raise your head, squinting as you watch chan come in with a tray of food. the aroma hits your nose immediately and your stomach growls softly. he gives you a quick, apologetic smile as he puts the tray down at the edge of the bed.

“good morning,” he greets, running a hand through his hair. he sits down beside the tray and he grins. your eyes travel down his figure, the black formal polo from last night is on his torso again, paired with the boxers, you could only assume, he was wearing last night.

friday, a new work day for the two of you. “good morning to you too, sir,” you mumble before rubbing your eyes. your chest stings from all of the marks from last night and you wince. chan lets out a soft hum, reaching out to hold your hand in his.

“did you sleep well?”

“yeah. thanks to you,” you tease. chan runs his thumb on your palm, inhaling as he looks up at you, cheeks pink.

a comfortable silence falls in the room as the both of you sit in each other’s company. it was overwhelming enough that you woke up in chan’s bed, but now he’s cooked you breakfast, plated it, and put it on a tray to bring to you. it didn’t even occur to you that he knew how to cook. you smile to yourself as you realize— you didn’t know everything about him yet. you part your lips to speak, but you didn’t notice chan doing the same.

“listen—“

“chan—“

“oh, you go firs—“

“no, you can—“

the two of you huff simultaneously, laughing at each other. “you go first,” you giggle. chan nods, coughing into his fist with a smile.

“about last night,” he starts, “i hope i didn’t hurt you too much.”

you look down at your chest playfully as you shrug. “it’s no big deal,” you hum. “i enjoyed it.” chan chuckles in response. he watches as you reach over to the plate, letting go of his hand as you bring the plate to your lap. “did you enjoy?” you question.

“yeah, of course,” chan responds immediately. “what’s not to enjoy? i mean, you were spectacular.”

“i could say the same to you, mister ‘no, i can’t wait anymore’.” you joke. chan’s cheeks flush as he scratches the back of his head sheepishly. you dig in your breakfast as chan does the same, the both of you eating in silence. you rest your back on the headboard and you watch chan. his hair is made already and he looks like he’s ready to start the work day. you bite your lip as you look down, your body merely being covered by the duvet. suddenly, memories of last night flood your mind and you sigh softly.

chan catches it immediately.

“y/n?”

“where does this lead us?” you ask, putting down your utensils. “you know, this—“ you motion between the two of you—“whatever this is.” you didn’t know what answer you’re waiting for, but you hope it’s positive.

chan thinks for a moment and the silence is deafening. he puts his hand on your thigh, putting down his plate beside him. “we can tell the office that we’re dating or...” he trails off, looking up at the ceiling, “we can keep this between us for now.”

your eyes widen, coughing as you struggle to come up with an answer. you and chan were together now? chan mentioned the word already, right? his eyes grow worried and he comes over to stroke your back. “did i say something wrong?”

“no, god, no, i just didn’t expect—“

“that i liked you back?” chan furrows his eyebrows. “i think last night was proof enough, baby.”

you blush, covering your face in your hands. chan chuckles softly as he leans over to move your hands away. “we can figure it out as we go,” he hums. “you don’t need to give me an answer right now, okay?”

you nod, your mind in shambles. your breath hitches as chan presses a kiss on your wrist. he looks up at you, “once we’re done eating, we can start the day.” you blink at him and he merely laughs.

“are you even ready for today?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, a smile on his lips.

the question hits you in many different ways, your mind travelling back to the last words you heard from him last night. are you ready to finally be with chan after all these years? you scan his face, taking him in as his smile reaches his eyes. chan looked beautiful and you know you wouldn’t be anywhere else, wouldn’t be with anyone else because all you needed is in front of you and he always has been. both of you were just too stupid to admit it to yourselves.

you straighten your back, clear your throat, throw your disheveled hair behind your shoulder, and smile at him.

“ready as i’ll ever be.”

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