#they’re all just in like one flimsy pack so i don’t really want to open that and just take two out and thaw them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stonesparrow · 2 months

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RWBY AU part 2!

Part 1

Read on Ao3

After getting dressed and scarfing down breakfast, Senku dashed over to the weapons lockers faster than Taiju could blink, instantly locating the one he’d picked and opening it.

“Ahhhh there you are,” he said appreciatively, pulling out Artemis. Sleek, silvery green, and packed with tons of firepower, he’d designed the crossbow entirely by himself to be a lean, mean, Grimm destroying machine.

“Did you miss it that much?” Taiju chuckled as he opened his own locker. Senku shot him a glare.

“I just prefer to have it close by at all times,” he grumbled. “I mean…you know me, I’m a flimsy twig without this. You’re already a tank even without your weapons.”

“Their names are Buddy and Pal,” Taiju insisted, pulling out his twin sickles and activating their combination lock. The blades merged and expanded outwards, forming a large shield.

“And I told you, you need to get better names for those,” Senku frowned. Taiju blinked.

“What’s wrong with Buddy and Pal?”

“They sound like kids’ cartoon characters!”

“But it fits! They’re my good friends who protect me from the Grimm!”

“That’s—wow you’re actually serious.”

Suddenly there was a much louder commotion a few rows over, and both boys stopped talking to listen.

“Come on, you’ve gotta team up with me!”

“I, uh, well we’ll see what happens?”

“I bet we’ll look awesome together too!”

“She said she wasn’t interested, jerk!”

Senku and Taiju poked their heads around the lockers. A large boy with a massive mace on his back was staring down the blonde sisters from earlier, the shorter of whom was glaring at him fiercely.

“Be reasonable, Ruri!” The boy said. “I was one of the strongest students at Luxar, and you’ve got one of the strongest Semblances! Plus with your family‘s reputation, we’d totally become super famous together!”

“Look, we’re not trying to take advantage of our family’s reputation, Magma,” Ruri said. “Kohaku and I are here to become Huntresses on our own merit, just like back at Luxar.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to partner with me?” Magma frowned. Ruri froze.

“Ah—“

“Stand down, Magma,” a boy with dark hair and glasses said, walking to stand next to the girls. “I believe the instructors are the ones that determine how partners are selected, not the students. Anyway, you should worry about yourself, not Ruri.”

“Tch, you will team up with me,” Magma snorted. “I’ll find a way to make it work, you hear?”

“Oh buzz off already!” Chrome said, appearing next to them. Magma glared at them but stalked away. A shorter blonde boy poked his head out from behind Chrome.

“Guess he didn’t mellow out that much over the summer, huh?” he squeaked.

“Oh don’t worry about that asshole,” Kohaku huffed. “I doubt the instructors would place any of us with him.”

“Are you sure about that?” Ruri said worriedly. “We still don’t know how the partners are chosen, after all.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Senku said, stepping out from behind the lockers. The entire group looked over at him. “My dad wasn’t super forthcoming on the details, but he did say that the initiation brings out the best in each fighter. If this Magma guy thinks so highly of himself, the initiation should take him down a few notches.”

“Good,” Kohaku growled. “He definitely needs that.”

“Your dad went to Beacon, Senku?” Chrome asked. Senku blinked.

“Uhhhhhh…”

“He sure did!” Taiju grinned. “Senku’s dad was a really cool Huntsman! He even—“

“—got known for being a huge class clown!” Senku said, slapping his hand over Taiju’s mouth. “Yep, that was dear old dad, the goofball of Beacon Academy! Sure he did his job, but retirement suits him waaaay better, I’ll tell you that!”

“Sounds just like our father,” Ruri chuckled. “He’s always telling us silly stories about his time at the Academy.”

“I can totally relate,” Senku nodded hurriedly. “Dads, you know?”

“Say, what year did your dad graduate?” Kohaku asked. “Maybe our dad knew him?”

Senku blinked. “Uh, well—“

Luckily, there was a chime alerting them to go meet up with the others, and Senku exhaled a sigh of relief as they all headed out without further questions.

“Why’d you freeze up like that?” Taiju asked as he joined Senku. Senku scoffed.

“I don’t want people associating me with my old man’s reputation here. So shut up about it, will you?”

“Okay. Sorry…”

Senku sighed. “Not your fault. Just…keep it on the down low. It’ll probably come out eventually, I just don’t want to deal with it right now. We’re here to be Huntsmen on our own merits, like what the older blonde said.”

Taiju nodded, looking more encouraged. “Right! Then let’s give it everything we’ve got!”

Back in the auditorium, the first-years were divided into three smaller groups, with each to be released into the Emerald Forest for the initiation one at a time so that they didn’t accidentally crash into each other. Which was weird phrasing, but Senku supposed they didn’t want to make the forest too crowded all at once.

“And now Group C,” Professor Nikitina said. “You will be escorted by Professor Weinberg.”

Senku blinked. The students around him whispered in awe as a stunning blonde woman walked up with a warm smile.

“The Lillian Weinberg?”

“Oh my gosh it’s really her!”

“She’s so cool…”

Professor Weinberg scanned the group appraisingly, then froze, staring directly at Senku.

Shit, did she—? But after a moment, the professor simply looked away and clasped her hands together.

“Alright recruits! Follow me!”

She brought them to a series of square platforms at the top of a cliff, which Senku found…odd. Shouldn’t there be like, a path or something into the forest?

“Now, the initiation is pretty simple,” Professor Weinberg said. “Once you’ve landed in the forest, the first person you make eye contact with will be your partner for the next four years.”

What?

“After you’ve found your partner, the two of you will make your way to the north end of the forest, where there will be an abandoned temple containing several relics. Bring a relic back to the top of the cliff, and your initiation is complete.”

“That’s it?” Senku heard one student say. Professor Weinberg smiled.

“Well of course, there will be obstacles. This forest is infested with Grimm, after all. Now’s the time to show off what you’ve learned in combat school! Instructors will be monitoring you the whole time, but we will not intervene.”

“Can we run by the whole random assignments thing again?” Senku said. They couldn’t actually be serious, could they?

Professor Weinberg giggled. “Best of luck!”

SPROING!!

Everyone glanced over to see one student being launched straight into the forest. Through the air.

“Oh, and be careful when landing,” Professor Weinberg said as several more students began launching away.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Senku deadpanned as he was flung forward.

The wind sailed past Senku’s ears as he grit his teeth, pulling Artemis from behind his back and shifting the rotating tumbler until he had the correct cartridge in place.

He fired, and a harpoon shot out from the bow, embedding itself into a tree. The chain dug into the bark as Senku swung around and around, eventually hitting the ground and rolling to his feet.

“Now where is that big oaf?” He muttered to himself. There wasn’t really any way to locate each other in this forest, and Taiju had been in Group B anyway so he would probably be further ahead, unless he hung back to wait for Senku.

Suddenly, Senku heard a rustling noise, and immediately powered up Artemis, spinning around and aiming into the bushes. A Grimm?

Chrome poked his head out with a dazed wheeze, a staff clutched in his hands. “Man, that sure was a baaaad landing…”

Their eyes met. Chrome blinked. “Oh. Well hi there, partner!”

Senku relaxed, lowering his crossbow. “Alright. I can work with this.”

“Sorry about that,” Chrome said as the two of them began making their way north. “You were probably hoping to partner with that big kid you were hanging out with earlier, huh?”

“Well sure, but it was more for his benefit than mine,” Senku said. “Taiju’s…too nice. It’s easy for people to take advantage of him, and he doesn’t do well working solo.”

“If you’re worried about him, we could still try finding him together,” Chrome said. Senku shook his head.

“It’d be a waste of time. We’re all going to the temple anyway, so let’s just keep moving. Anyway, what about you? Bet you wanted to be with one of those blondes from your school, huh?”

Chrome flushed. “Well, it would have been nice to partner with someone I already know,” he said, “but there were five of us in that group of friends, it never would have worked out evenly anyway. I think the two of us will get along fine though.”

“Speaking of which,” Senku pointed at Chrome’s weapon. “That’s definitely not just a staff, right?”

Chrome grinned. “Nope! Allow me to introduce the baaaadest weapon around, my beloved Spectrum! It’s got eighteen retractable blades, three different rifle modes, a smokescreen bomb, a powder bomb, and my personal favorite, a flamethrower!”

Senku raised an eyebrow. “All at once? How do you keep track of all that or keep the blades from jamming?”

Chrome rattled off exactly how he’d put together his weapon, and honestly Senku genuinely found it impressive.

Once Chrome was done explaining, he looked expectantly at Senku, who chuckled and held up his crossbow. “This is Artemis. It might not have as many different forms, but I can turn it into a revolver, and it’s got this rotating canister that lets me add as many different types of ammo as I can fit into it, Dust or otherwise. I’m trying to expand it to include more, too.”

“Whooooooa,” Chrome marveled, eyes sparkling. “It’s beautiful…what kinds of ammo do you have?”

“Well—“ suddenly an ear splitting roar ripped through the air, and three enormous black shapes crashed through the brush in front of them, growling and baring pearly white fangs.

“Ursai!” Chrome shouted, twisting a segment in the middle of Spectrum. A blade shot out of the top, turning it into a glaive. “Get ready!”

“Way ahead of you,” Senku grinned as Artemis transformed into its revolver form. “You’re aware of their weak spot?”

“Just behind the crest, yeah,” Chrome nodded. “But to reach it we have to turn them around.”

“Well I’ve got the ranged weapon, soooo…”

Chrome sighed. “Figures.”

With Chrome distracting the Ursai, it was simple enough for Senku to get behind them and fire directly into their weak points, taking them out within minutes.

“Nice job,” he grinned, holding up his hand as the Ursai dissolved. “Took them out good and quick.” Chrome laughed and met him with a solid high-five.

“I’m glad you’re not like Kohaku,” he said. “She always wants the fight to last longer.”

“Drawn out battles definitely aren’t my thing,” Senku said as they continued on. “I don’t have much physical strength or Aura, so I need to work smarter, not harder.”

“Makes sense,” Chrome said. “Do you have a Semblance though? Mine’s called Locate, it lets me tag things and track their movements.”

Senku grimaced. “I mean yeah I have one, but it’s not something I’m willing to use unless the situation gets pretty bad. It takes a lot out of me.”

“Noted. Hey, I think that’s the temple!”

They approached a somewhat run-down stone structure with several short pillars in a circle around the edge, some with small objects on top of them.

“Chess pieces?” Senku said.

“Not a full set though,” Chrome remarked. “Guess some folks are already on their way back. Which one should we take?”

“Hmm. Doesn’t seem like it would matter since every pair has to bring one back,” Senku said. “Do you have a preference?”

“Not really. You can choose.”

Senku shrugged and picked up the black bishop. A diagonal attacker, one that could sneakily snipe their opponent from a distance if they weren’t careful. “Let’s get going.”

“Cool.” Chrome tilted his head. “Hey, do you hear screaming?”

“AAAAAAAHHH!!” They turned to see four teenagers running towards them full tilt, pursued by a monstrously large Grimm in the shape of a spider. Well, actually three of them were running—the fourth was being carried on someone’s back.

“LET ME AT IT RURI!” She screeched—oh, that was Kohaku. “I’LL TEACH IT TO MESS WITH THE HOSEKIS!”

“CALM DOWN, KOHAKU!” Glasses-boy shouted at her.

“SHUT UP KINRO! I’M GONNA BEAT THE HELL OUT OF IT!”

“YOU’LL JUST INJURE YOURSELF AGAIN!”

“YOU DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

“Ah shit,” Senku hissed. “A mature Arachne? That’s not good.”

“CHROME HELP MEEEEE!!” The short blonde boy threw himself at Chrome, sobbing. Glasses picked him up by the back of his shirt with a growl.

“On your feet, Ginro! A Huntsman does not cry in the face of danger!”

“Good to see you, Chrome!” Ruri said, finally setting her sister down. “We might, ah. Need some help.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!”

Everyone spun around to see Taiju and a petite girl with brown hair burst from the trees, swinging on a rope that disappeared into the girl’s hands as they landed. A flock of harpy-shaped Grimm emerged from the canopy behind them, shrieking cacophonously.

“Razorwings!” Chrome yelped. Senku grimaced. No way Taiju’s weapons could do much against flying enemies.

“Senku!!” Taiju ran up and enveloped him in a crushing hug before Senku could get away. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Let go, you idiot!” Senku wheezed. “Anyway you should all grab a relic, we better get moving!”

“What, we’re not going to fight them?” Kohaku frowned. Senku rolled his eyes.

“All we had to do was retrieve the relics, nobody said anything about needing to fight the Grimm. So let’s get the hell out of here already!”

“I like this plan,” Ginro said quickly, snatching up the white knight piece.

“Senku’s smart like that,” Taiju nodded. “Do you mind carrying our relic, Yuzuriha?”

“Sure thing Taiju,” the brown-haired girl said, picking up the remaining black bishop while Ruri selected the other white knight.

“Look, they’re friends,” she said to Ginro, tapping their pieces together.

“So,” Senku said to Yuzuriha as the now much larger group began running to where their teachers were waiting. “You’re Taiju’s partner, huh? I hope you haven’t had too much trouble looking after the big idiot.”

The girl laughed. “He did just as much looking after, really! He also talked a lot about you.”

Senku raised an eyebrow. “Did he now?”

She nodded. “Yep! He kept going on about how cool and smart you are, and how you’re definitely going to be an awesome Huntsman.” She glanced over Senku and Artemis. “I guess time will tell how right he is, huh?”

Senku snorted. “Guess so.”

The eight of them rushed through the forest, coming across a large stone structure with several pillars and bridges. Suddenly, the flock of Razorwings appeared, blocking off their path. When they turned around, the Arachne was snapping its mandibles at their heels.

“We’re trapped!” Ginro shrieked.

Senku narrowed his eyes. “Not quite! You four keep the Arachne off of us, we’ll deal with the flock!”

“You heard the man!” Kohaku declared, drawing a katana from her waist and a shield from her back. “Let’s take this overgrown bug down once and for all!”

As Kohaku, Ruri, Kinro, and Ginro engaged the Arachne, Senku turned to Yuzuriha. “How strong is that Aura rope of yours?”

She drew a rapier from her side and a shimmering red thread spilled from its handle. “How strong do you need it to be?”

Senku grinned.

A moment later, everyone was ready. Yuzuriha used her string to weave a thick web between two pillars, and Taiju grabbed the middle, pulling it back as far as he could. Senku and Chrome positioned themselves in front of him, back to back with Senku facing forward.

“This is kind of insane,” Chrome remarked. Senku laughed.

“Better get used to it, partner.” His eyes narrowed on the flock of Razorwings as he readied Artemis. “And…NOW!”

Taiju let go, and the elastic web sprang forward, catapulting Chrome and Senku into the air. When they’d reached their peak, Chrome engaged Spectrum, sending a plume of flames downward and propelling them even higher into the sky.

Suddenly, they were in the midst of the flock of Razorwings, all poised to strike. Senku took a deep breath.

And activated Bullet Time.

The world turned gray, and suddenly everything was moving in slow motion as a loud ticking noise reverberated in Senku’s ears. He aimed and fired Artemis at each Razorwing, taking care not to miss a single one. As soon as he finished, Bullet Time disengaged.

KRAKOOM!!!

Lightning snaked through the air and the entire flock of Razorwings was immediately electrocuted, screaming as they were reduced to nothing but ashes.

Senku and Chrome were snatched out of the air by one of Yuzuriha’s threads, pulling them down to bounce into the safety of the web she’d spun earlier. Senku raised his head weakly as Taiju picked him up.

“How’re the others?”

“They took out the Arachne,” Taiju said, grinning. “We’re all clear!”

“Cool, cool. I’m gonna pass out now.”

“What? Senku—!!”

—————

“Magma Kengo, Mantle Vulcan, Carbo Inoue, Yo Uei,” Professor Nikitin said. “The four of you retrieved the black queen pieces. From this day forward you will work together as Team MYCM <Mycelium>, led by Magma Kengo.”

The four young men glanced at each other with oddly sour expressions as they walked off the stage and the next group took their place.

Professor Nikitin nodded to them. “Kohaku Hoseki, Ruri Hoseki, Kinro Hashiguchi, Ginro Hashiguchi. The four of you retrieved the white knight pieces. From this day forward you will work together as Team KRKG <Krieg>, led by Kohaku Hoseki.”

Kohaku blinked. “What? Me?!” Ruri smiled at her.

“Nice job, Kohaku!”

Finally, Senku and his group stepped onto the stage.

“Senku Ishigami, Chrome Osamu, Taiju Oki, and Yuzuriha Ogawa” Professor Nikitin said. “The four of you retrieved the black bishop pieces. From now on, you will work together as team SYCT <psyched>, led by Senku Ishigami.”

Chrome’s eyes widened and he turned to Senku as Yuzuriha smiled and Taiju whooped.

“I knew it’d be you!” He cheered as they walked off the stage to the applause of their classmates. “Just like your dad!”

Senku froze. Taiju blinked.

“Oops.”

“So it’s true?” Chrome said. “Your dad is…he’s…”

“I’m sorry!” Taiju squeaked. Yuzuriha looked between them curiously.

“I think I’m missing something.”

Senku sighed. “Well everyone’s going to figure it out now that they’ve announced my full name,” he grimaced. He scratched the back of his neck. “What a pain. Yeah, my dad is Byakuya Ishigami.”

Chrome’s jaw dropped. Yuzuriha frowned.

“Yeah, okay, I’m definitely missing something.”

“You don’t know?!” Chrome gasped. “Everyone in Vale knows Byakuya Ishigami!”

“I was born and raised in Mistral,” Yuzuriha said. “My family only moved to Vale a few years ago, when I started at Pharos.”

“Oh, well then I guess that makes sense.” Chrome cleared his throat. “Byakuya Ishigami was one of the best Huntsmen that ever came out of Beacon Academy. He and his team were total legends! At least, until…the Gorgon Event.”

Taiju glanced away as Senku crossed his arms. “Yep.”

“Wait, that sounds familiar,” Yuzuriha said. “Gorgon…that’s an advanced form of a Tempest, right? A really rare form that only occurs if it’s fed off of entire cities.”

“Not only that, it’s a mutation that transforms the Tempest’s electrical Dust into Rock Dust,” Senku said. “First paralyzing the victims, and then carbonizing them into solid stone.”

His new teammates stared in horror as Senku continued. “Fifteen years ago Team BAGL <Bagel> was at the top of their game. Led by Byakuya Ishigami and consisting of members Akane Kazama, Gaku Shirayama, and Lillian Weinberg, everyone thought there was no mission they couldn’t take on. Until they were called upon to defeat a Gorgon in the city of Issengrin.”

He crossed his arms. “By the time the battle was over, the city was completely destroyed, and Kazama and Shirayama were dead. They left behind their two year old son, who was adopted by Byakuya.”

Senku turned away from Chrome and Yuzuriha, who were frozen in shock, Taiju looking off to the side. “Look. I don’t want pity, and I don’t want to make a big fuss about my birth parents or my dad having been big shots once upon a time. I chose to become a Huntsman because I want to study the Grimm, to study Dust, to find out how we can make our world a less shitty place to live in. I don’t care what your reasons are, as long as you don’t make it harder on me. Are we cool about that?”

After a moment, they nodded.

“We won’t say a word,” Chrome said.

“Besides,” Yuzuriha added, “It wouldn’t be very respectful to our leader to expose your secrets like that.”

“Great.” Senku clapped his hands together. “Then let’s hit the showers, because man do we all smell RANK from all that running around!”

Chrome, Yuzuriha, and Taiju blinked, then burst out laughing while Senku grinned.

Professor Weinberg stared after Team SYCT as they exited the auditorium.

“Senku Ishigami,” she murmured before smiling wistfully. “Looks like this year is going to be an exciting one for sure.”

#dr stone #dcst #dr. stone #rwby #rwby au #my writing #my fic #au #aus #ishigami senku

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redactedthegreat · 2 years

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Sarah’s Penis | KINKY KUFFS Chapter 1

That’s what it said on the box: KINKY KUFFS, all caps, pink fuzzy lettering, cuffs spelled with a ‘k’. The box lay in a small sea of packing peanuts, inside a larger Amazon box that Paul had just opened.

“I thought Amazon stopped using packing peanuts years ago.” Sarah said, peeking over his shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s what makes this weird.” Paul said sarcastically. “What’s up with this lettering; are these a joke?” He turned the box around looking for any other writing.

“I bet they’re fuzzy handcuffs, probably a gag gift.” Sarah said, rummaging through the styrofoam for something else to justify such a large box. She found a single sheet of paper at the bottom, stuck to some packing tape from the opposite side.

She carefully removed the paper from the box, it was blank except for a single line in all-caps at the top: PLEASE ENJOY THIS HOUSEWARMING GIFT.

“It says they’re a housewarming gift.” Sarah said, perplexed.

“This must be a prank from one of your new coworkers. A bit inappropriate.” Said Paul.

“It could be from a neighbor, or one of our friends. Besides, we haven’t even opened it yet, it could be anything.” Sarah said, reaching for the box. She opened one end and dumped the contents onto the table: A bright pink pair of fuzzy handcuffs and a folded paper pamphlet.

Paul scowled and started reading the pamphlet. “They come with some kind of roleplay suggestions. It’s listed in like 5 different languages.” He said, flipping through the flimsy paper.

“Well let’s try them out.” Sarah said, toying with the handcuffs.

“Seriously?” Paul asked, lowering the pamphlet.

“We are about to go to bed anyway, and all our other things are still in boxes.” She clicked the handcuffs open and closed a few times “I don’t know, I think it could be fun.” She offered them to Paul.

“So, I guess that makes me the warden?” Paul asked.

“This time at least.” Sarah said with a wry grin.

In the bedroom Sarah narrated the pamphlet while Paul inspected the handcuffs. “Kinky Kuffs™ Magic Love Handcuffs.“

“Magic huh?” Paul said. “I bet that’s marketing-talk for ‘doesn’t lock’. These things don’t even have a keyhole, just a release. You can even reach it with the same hand.” He demonstrated by locking one wrist and trying to spring the lever by stretching his fingers.

“Have fun with that. ‘Directions: 1. Restrain your lover.’ Hey Paul, we’re halfway there.” Sarah said, Paul scoffed and continued trying to open the handcuffs one-handed. “‘2. Stimulate your lover.’ I like where this is going.”

“The really kinky ones lock you up and skip that step.”

“‘3: Your lover must do any sexy thing you command (within consent)’ and that’s it. Seems simple enough.” Sarah said as she folded up the pamphlet.

“Got it!” Paul said, finally unlatching the handcuff. “I think that might be a bad translation; the last step hardly made sense. Is that all it says?”

“There are some suggestions further down, but I don’t want spoilers. I’ll leave those to you.” She glanced at the pamphlet again “Oh and on the back it says ‘Magic requirements: Lust, Desire’, whatever that means.”

“Sounds kinda kooky. Should be fun though; I’ve always thought handcuffs were hot.” Paul said, lighting a candle and turning off the lights.

“Really?” Sarah asked. “I thought holding me down made you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, that’s just because I’m worried about hurting you.” Paul explained. “But that should be less of a problem with these.” He held up the fuzzy pink cuffs “They’re actually pretty soft on the inside.”

Sarah was a little incredulous of Paul’s enthusiasm for bondage, but he did seem to be excited, and it was something she was interested in too. She let down her hair and slipped off her socks “Well then why don’t you show me?” She asked, giving him her best come-hither expression.

Paul grinned, he loved her weird sex-face. He reached his arm around to the small of her back, pulling her into an embrace. She looked up at him and he looked down into her eyes, their noses nearly touched. His arm slipped up the back of her shirt, tracing her spine. He leaned down to kiss her as his palm reached mid-back. His other hand reached down to undo her belt and pants.

Sarah broke the kiss and started undoing the buttons on Paul’s shirt in kind. Meanwhile he finished pulling down the zipper on her jeans and reached up to unhook her bra. After unhooking the clasp his hands glided down her sides and pulled at the waist of her pants, she wiggled her hips to help them slide off. Before she could finish with the buttons on his shirt, Paul grabbed her hands by the wrists and guided them over her head. He pulled off her shirt and bra, tossing them aside, and pushed her backwards onto the bed. Then he grabbed her jeans by the loose fabric around her thighs and pulled them off as well.

Paul stood over her as he finished unbuttoning his shirt and pants. Sarah was on her back, on the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of black boyshorts. As he stripped he started getting into character. “So you thought you could break in here and steal all our stuff, huh?” He said, gesturing at their bedroom full of boxes from the move.

“Yeah, and I would have gotten away with it if I hadn’t stayed to label them with oddly specific categories.” Sarah said, straining to hold a straight face.

“Well I’m glad you did, because now I get to teach you a lesson.” He said, spinning the handcuffs around on one finger. He was down to just his underwear now as well, a healthy bulge filling out the front of his boxers. “Also, it will make putting all this back way easier.” he added, failing repress a dumb grin.

He got on at the head of the bed and pulled her closer, stroking and kissing her. She lost track of the handcuffs, and then they were on her, tightening around her wrist. She offered her other hand and Paul locked it up as well, grasping the chain by the middle to hold her arms above her head. In his fist he also held the pamphlet open to the suggestions, which he read as he knelt over her. With his other hand he stroked her gently, moving his fingers over her breast as he read the first suggestion.

“Bark like a dog.” He said, reading from the paper.

“Ah.” Sarah sighed, she felt a tingle run from her wrists down her arms. She hadn’t expected the handcuffs to shock her; she tried to remember if it was mentioned in the manual but she could feel his command tug her mind back, she wanted to hear the other suggestions, and barking like a dog didn’t fit the scene “Sorry, I’m not in a bitchy mood.” She said, pulling playfully at the cuffs. The tingle dissipated with a shudder, sending goosebumps all the way down to her toes. Her nipples crinkled and perked up.

Paul was a little irritated she wasn’t playing along, but he could tell it was having an effect on her, maybe she wanted more force? He pushed back hard against the chain, pinning her hands to the headboard with one arm. With his other hand he gently squeezed her nipple, eliciting an excited gasp. Paul tried to sound dark and authoritative as he read the next suggestion “Grow a wet pussy.” He said, pretending it was something sexy he would say.

“Way ahead of you.” Sarah flirted. She felt another tingle run down her arms and deep into her guts. She lifted her knees and let them fall apart “See for yourself.” She said, tilting her pelvis towards him. She felt hot and tense, her face flushed; a warm tightness flowed out from below her stomach. Her breathing became quick and light.

Paul’s hand made its way down her chest, over her stomach and under the edge of her panties. His fingers pressed into her, gently stroking down. She was very wet. Paul brushed his fingers by her clit and Sarah let out a soft moan “What’s the next suggestion?” She asked, ready for more.

Paul squinted at the paper and made a face “I think we should make up our own. These read like a bad translation, and this next one couldn't work for you anyway.”

“What’s it say?” She asked, half lost in the feeling of his fingers.

“Grow a big dick.” Paul said nervously. Sarah came almost immediately. Her legs tensed and her stomach contracted like she was doing a situp. She let out a long involuntary moan. Paul kept rubbing, confused and aroused by her sudden reaction. Under his fingers her clit started to swell, more and more by the second. Sarah gasped and closed her legs.

“Too sensitive.” She murmured, pulling away from his hand and beginning to tremble. Paul was getting concerned. He let go of the chain and got off the bed to turn the lights back on, tripping over a box of ‘bedroom:summer sheets’ on the way.

By the time the lights were back, Sarah was beginning to recover. She was laying on her back, knees up and parted slightly, both her handcuffed hands cupped between her legs.

“Are you okay?” Paul asked, more than a little concerned.

“I think so.” Sarah said, unsure. The whole event had happened so fast, it took a moment to process it all. Paul had told her to grow a dick and the tingle came rushing back, as soon as she accepted the tingling she had a massive orgasm. But it wasn’t like other orgasms, it kept going, rolling through her and pulsing into her clit. And then Paul’s fingers had been way too much, as the pulses grew closer together it became a constant sensation; it felt almost like a slow stretch, like soaking in a hot bath. It dulled slightly as the tingling faded away. She lifted her hands and saw the massive bulge in her boyshorts. It was large enough to push up the waistband, but not enough for her to get a good look. Her heart began to race as she took it all in.

“Oh my god!” Paul exclaimed, bewildered. For a moment he was in shock, and then he narrowed his eyes “Hold on. Is this a prank? I mean first the handcuffs, and then the weird instructions. Are you messing with me?” He glanced around for signs of a setup.

“What? No!” Sarah was fighting to hold back tears. “Fucking look at me.” She said, pulling down her underwear. Her dick flopped out against her thigh, happy to be free. “I don’t know how it happened but this is real.” She said with tears in her eyes.

Paul moved cautiously back to the bed. He leaned in and began to visually examine Sarah’s crotch.

“Could you undo these handcuffs?” Sarah asked with a sniffle “I need a tissue.” Paul released her and put the cuffs on the nightstand. He watched her penis with suspicion as she got up and blew her nose. It looked real alright, and frankly a little intimidating; even soft it was big.

“Do you want to touch it?” She asked, noticing his interest. “Would that put your mind at ease?” Honestly she hoped he would say yes because she was a little nervous to touch it herself.

Paul leaned over and extended his hand, cupping her dick in his palm. It was warm and soft, like a regular dick. He lifted it gently as it began to stiffen in his hand. Sarah watched between her breasts, transfixed. Under her dick the rest of her pussy appeared to be intact.

“It looks like you still have a vagina.” Paul said “Like, right under your, uh, penis.” That was somewhat comforting news to Sarah; she hadn’t even considered having balls. “Is it okay if I...?” Paul asked hesitantly, making a fingering gesture towards her crotch.

“Sure.” Sarah said “But be gentle.” She was still incredibly wet from earlier but also very sensitive. Paul put a hand under her shaft and lifted it up against her stomach, out of the way. It was starting to get hard, the tip nearly reaching to her bellybutton. The erection stirred up a bit of that good-ache slow-stretch feeling again. Sarah widened her stance a bit and tilted her pelvis towards him. Paul gently inserted his middle finger into her vagina, moving carefully and slow.

“It seems about the same as before, to me at least.” Paul said.

“It feels the same to me too.” Sarah said. Paul removed his finger and she stepped back. She took few deep breaths, trying to process the situation.

Paul scratched his head “This is just all so weird. When I read the command I thought it was a poor translation for ‘Get an erection.’”

“Well, I mean, look what happened.” Sarah said with a half-smile.

“Yeah, but. Wow, this is just a lot to take in.” He shook his head “Magic is real.”

“Yeah.” Sarah said “And I have a dick.”

Next Chapter:

#kinky kuffs #gender bender #tg story #tgtf #female to male #genital transformation #magical transformation

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onsunnyside · 2 years

Note

Lloyd: You're my dirty, sweet pumpkin. You like when I call you that, huh? Like being my pumpkin? Do you know what good pumpkins have? Lots of seeds...

uhm… it’s summer but what about Halloween with the moustache daddy 🎃

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Lloyd Hansen x reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | Halloween costumes, SMUT - minors DNI, daddy kink, smidge of size kink, dirty talk, breeding kink, grinding, exhibitionism - almost caught, pussy slapping

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | You go to a Halloween carnival with your boyfriend.

𝗪/𝗖 | 731

𝗔/𝗡 | I AM SO FERAL FOR THIS MAN

It’s so dark, you can barely see your own feet, but with the strobe lights, you can faintly make out the man a few inches before you. He’s wearing that sickening smile with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, “What do you say to a little fooling around, sunshine?”

His hand trails up your bare thigh, hiking up your white skirt. “Lloyd—not here.” You whisper, anxiously fixing your headband with those fuzzy brown ears.

The door at the end of the hallway opens and in walks a group of men, all dressed in their own costumes for the festive day. They’re clinging to each other, shouting and laughing at the giant mechanical spiders and robotic zombie hands poking out through the walls.

You fear they’ll notice you—see the girl trapped by a tall man dressed as a cop. For the most part, his costume is convincing, especially with his moustache. The little plastic badge is pinned on the navy uniform that clings to his built shoulders and arms like a second skin. Even the belt is packed with several pouches and a shiny gun tucked into the holster.

He never told you if it was real, but you had your suspicions.

Lloyd watches them go by, hat tilted over his dark eyes. You jump at a particularly loud thump, the speakers blast scary music and terrible high-pitched screams.

Now, this is when they’ll spot you, when the lights are the brightest as they reach the huge ghostly painting a few doors down.

But no, they’re too busy freaking out about the jumpscare clown at the end of the hall. As the group enters the next section, the door falls shut and muffles their screams.

That leaves you shoved into the crook of a doorway, flimsy skirt flipped up and exposing your panties—including that wet spot too.

“C’mon, don’t you wanna be stuffed like a real teddy bear?” Lloyd hooks your leg over his hip, forcing you to lean against the closed door. He reaches down, rubbing over your cotton underwear with his thick fingers. “Don’t you want to be daddy’s good girl?”

As your hips move on their own, your hands scramble for purchase on his broad shoulders. You moan softly, lips puckered in a pout, “y-you didn’t want to fuck me before we left, that’s your fault if you want to now—” in a damn haunted house.

He moves one of your hands to his growing bulge and cocks a moustached grin, “I think that attitude just got you some jail time, sweetheart.” He leans close, his volume is loud enough for you to hear over the haunting piano keys, “you know these handcuffs are real? They’re meant for really bad people,” like himself. “And little girls with big mouths like you. I hope you know when you get these on, they aren’t coming off until you’re begging.”

Lloyd takes great pride in your whimpers and the way your bottom lip trembles as your fingers hook into his belt, tugging him closer. He pulls your panties to the side, and feeds off of the pleasure on your face as he grinds against you, slowly rubbing your bare pussy with his clothed cock.

“Or maybe I’ll go easy on you, maybe I’ll fuck you in the corn maze or the pumpkin patch.” He gropes your ass, lips ghosting your neck as he inhales your perfume. “Fill my pretty pumpkin to the brim, stuff my little teddy bear until you can’t take it anymore. Maybe you can finally make me a real daddy.”

At that, you whine loudly, yanking him forward with your leg around his waist and grinding desperately against the air. All too many times he’s pulled out, spurting his cum on your face, belly, back or ass, sometimes on your cunt before he licked you clean. You quickly nod, pleading, “Want to make you a daddy, l-let me have your babies, ah!” You’re caught off guard as he spanks your pussy in quick succession, his pinky ring cold against your heat, “Please, please—”

“Hush now, you’ll get us caught.” He looks down, it’s still significantly dark in the hallway but he can see the wetness coating your folds, and his mouth waters. “You're my dirty, sweet pumpkin. You like when I call you that, huh? Like being my pumpkin? Do you know what good pumpkins have? Lots of seeds...”

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luffles424 · 4 years

Text

Luminous

☼ Pairing: Jimin x reader

☼ Genre: tentacle monster!Jimin, some fluff, smut, mostly just pwp

☼ Count: 9k

☼ Warnings: 18+, public sex (no ones around but they’re on the beach), tentacles (kind of a given), big dick jimin, manhandling, lots of cum, some cumplay, creampie, cum inflation/belly bulge (not a whole lot, just a small bump) unprotected sex, restraints, choking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, tit fucking, thigh fucking, oral (m recieving), deep throating, anal, double penatration, minor nipple play, praise kink, mating cycles, slight impreg kink

☼ Summary: The Busan summer festival is your favorite event of the year. You like all the food and things to do, but your favorite part is watching the fireworks at the end of the night, gathered with friends and family. It’s fun and joyous. Except this year you’re spending it without them. So you find a secluded spot on the beach to watch alone. Except... you might not be as alone as you thought you were out here.

☼ a/n: This was written for Sol’s (jamaisjoons) collab event ‘The Summer Bucketlist’ and my prompt was ‘watching fireworks.’ Uhhh this idea was originally very different and then I started thinking about tentacles and now here we are 🥴🥴🥴 Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

☼ Banner made by the absolutely amazing @jamaisjoons (who did such wonderful work on it and I hope the fic lives up to the beautiful banner she made me 💕💕💕)

You let out a small contented sigh as you slip your feet into the water. This is your favorite place in all of Busan, this hidden little jutty of rock just off one of the smaller, less popular beaches, more popular among locals only. You’ve spent more time than you can count out here hanging out with your friends, passing the time and using the salty sea breeze to help combat the heat of summer. You’ve been out here plenty on your own too, just like how you’re out here alone right now.

The sun’s dipping below the horizon, the sky slowly turning an inky black. The perfect backdrop to what’s going to happen soon and the main reason you’re out here at all to begin with rather than at home. The summer festival is happening and once the sun disappears, the sky will be decorated with fireworks, and you and your friends discovered years ago that this is the best spot to watch them, unobstructed and no one around to fight for seats.

You kick your feet idly in the water, enjoying the warmth of it as you lean back on your hands as you watch the last few rays of light slip away. You wished your friends could’ve made it though. But Namjoon was stuck in the city for work and Taehyung was out with his girlfriend at the festival. A brief feeling of sadness overcomes you because you had been planning to go with Taehyung and his girlfriend and your own boyfriend as a double date. Until he dumped you a week ago over text because he’d moved to the otherside of the country and apparently was nothing like the man you met since he didn’t even have the balls to break up in person.

You suspect that there was a lot more than his flimsy excuse of it’s just not working and long distance is hard. It most likely has something to do with the new girl that you’ve been told about that has shown up on his socials.

For what it’s worth, Taehyung and Namjoon both offered you company but you waved them off. Namjoon’s job opportunity is much more important and as much as you love Taehyung and his girlfriend, you didn’t particularly feel like being third wheel to their (normally adorable and heart warming) love.

You think this is better anyway. It’s peaceful out here. The smell of salt being carried by the breeze brings a myriad of memories that all bring a smile to your face and it’s easy to forget about the hard things in this moment. It’s healing to be out here. As much as it sucked that you got dumped, you can’t be too upset. You saw the cracks forming the more he opened his mouth and talked, if he hadn’t done it, you likely would have been doing it soon anyway. You let your head fall back, letting your eyes slip closed as you simply enjoyed this. You should tell the others that you all need to make another trip out here soon.

Plus you’d come much earlier when the sun was still high and swam some. Using the ebb and flow of the ocean to erode your worries and stress. Then you’d sprawled out on your beach towel on your rocky perch and let the sunset dry your skin before you slipped back into your shorts and tank top and allowed the peacefulness to swallow you.

You startle slightly when there’s a loud, echoing boom and color flashes across the sky. You’d been lulled into such calmness and had almost forgotten why you were out here to begin with. You watch the sky passively, watching the occasional flash of color and shapes as the firework people warm themselves and the crowds up. You know the real show won’t start for at least another 45 minutes, knowing the tell by the fact that there’s still the faintest of traces of blue on the horizon.

Your feet continue their idle movements in the water, until something slick brushes the bottom of your foot and you scream on instinct, quickly jerking your foot free from the water. You back up an extra foot from the edge, to the safety of the blanket that you spread across the rocks, just as an extra precaution. You’re sure that whatever touched you was probably just seaweed. Maybe a plastic bag or some other trash that someone carelessly threw into the ocean. But anything touching you in the water when the water is nothing more than an inky black expanse is enough for you to decide that’s enough soaking for the night.

Just as your heart rate is returning to normal, something slips over the edge of the rocks where you’d just been sitting. It gleams in the moonlight, silver, smooth, and shiny, as it makes a cursory probe at the edge, like it’s looking for something. It’s probably no thicker than your thumb and you deliriously wonder if octopi are even capable of coming up on dry land, let alone the reason why one might be coming up right now. Though the longer you stare at it, the more you realize that it’s far too smooth to be from an octopus, completely devoid of the telltale suckers.

You shuffle a little further away. You really don’t want to move too quickly, not if you don’t know what it even is and if it can follow you or how fast whatever it is. But your slight movement only seems to catch it’s attention and to your growing horror, it lashes out almost faster than you can see and wraps itself firmly around your ankle. You scream again, because aside from that, there’s really very little you can do out here all alone with it on you.

Any attempts to free yourself prove futile, the slender appendage is far stronger than you would’ve expected from such a jelly-like creature. It gives its own experimental tug, one that pulls you marginally closer to the water before you once again scramble backwards. It lets you and that just serves to freak you out more.

Then, a few more tentacles appear over the edge of the rock, watering dripping and spreading out around them and then there’s a… hand? You frown as a seemingly human hand, if perhaps a little ashen looking, plants itself on the rock right alongside the tentacles. The fingers flex for a moment before something, somehow even more surprising, appears. A fairly human face, or at least up to the eyes as that’s the furthest it raises, peaks up over the edge, gaze quickly zeroing in on you. Your heart stutters in your chest as your eyes meet and its pale silver eyes gleam like its tentacles. It’s hair is wet and slicked back and, though the locks are currently water logged and a few shades darker, it’s clearly also a similar shade of silver as its tentacles and eyes.

Another hand joins the first along the edge of the rocks and for a moment it doesn’t move at all. You stare at it, you know it’s definitely bigger than an octopus now. You don’t think you could take it. It’s dead silent aside from the gentle lapping of the waves and you’re terrified to move for fear of what it’s going to do to you. It gives the slightest of tugs on your ankle and when you don’t budge it finally lifts itself from the water.

You try to back away again, but it’s grip keeps you in place and you let out a startled scream when another tentacle darts out to wrap itself around your other ankle. The… monster… sits on its knees at the edge for a moment after pulling itself from the water.

It, he?, looks almost perfectly human. Skin a dimmed golden shade, frame small but packed with lean muscle… apparently well endowed in human terms. You jerk your gaze quickly away when you realize just where you're staring. Your life is on the line, now is not the time to to fucking ogle the monster and think about if he can get hard like a human and if it possibly gets bigger. You force yourself back to his face, cheekbones prominent and lips plush as he seems to be looking you over as well, though his gaze continually seems to dart behind you, brows knitting in confusion.

His eyes appear almost human except that it doesn’t seem like he has a pupil, silver swallowing the whole of the iris. It’s slightly disconcerting. His tentacles shift behind him, drawing your attention to them finally. The ones not on you shift behind him restlessly, never seeming to settle. A thin one drapes itself on his shoulder before slithering across his skin to the other side, forming a strange sort of living necklace. It’s hard to pin down an exact number with them constantly moving, but there seems to be a lot and they seem to come in primarily two sizes, thinner ones like the one draped around his throat and wrapped around your ankles and thicker ones easily the width of 3 or 4 fingers, you try very hard not to compare their girth with what you had glimpsed between his legs.

You’re trying to formulate a plan to get away when there’s another boom of a firework, bathing everything pink for a moment. And what you’re certainly not expecting is for the way the monster startles at the sound. The tentacles around your ankles tighten almost painfully and then before you can completely comprehend what’s going on, you’re being pulled closer to him. Once you're close enough, he’s leaning down over you and you squeeze your eyes shut, unsure of what’s about to happen but positive that it’s unlikely to be good.

But nothing happens and as the seconds stretch, you slowly peek an eye open. His face is almost directly above yours, but it’s not you that he’s looking at. Instead, he’s studiously scanning your surroundings, looking tense and on edge. When you glance at the way that he’s leaning over you, you realize that he seems to be almost… protecting you? Which only serves to confuse you more.

Deeming there to be no immediate threat, his gaze turns down to you and you freeze now that you're faced with him this close. He blinks down at you before his lips part and he makes a strange sort of clicking sound, but you’re more focused on the sharp teeth revealed when he makes noise. Definitely sharp enough to tear into you and eat his fill.

“Please don’t eat me,” you squeak out, hands coming up to cover your face.

There’s silence for a moment before a deep chuckle sounds from him. You peek between your fingers at him and there’s a smirk stretching his lips.

“Oh, I have met your kind before.” His voice is soft and surprisingly melodious given the higher pitch the clicking was.

You can’t help the words that slip from your lips. “My kind?”

His lips twitch and he tilts his head. “Humans. Are you not human?” He pushes himself up slightly to inspect you again. “You do not appear to be one of my kind.”

“There’s more of you?”

His gaze darts around. “A few.”

You swallow, about to speak again when another firework goes off. He startles above you and drops closer once more, body pressed firmly to yours as he glares around, trying to discover the source.

You’d laugh at his constant startling if your throat wasn’t suddenly so dry. His chest is every bit as firm as it looked and you can feel every shift and ripple as he looks around. It’s incredibly distracting. Why did the monster have to be hot? You squeeze your eyes shut again. You should not be thinking about how it’d feel to touch the monster with your hands. Or how other parts of him would feel.

He shifts off of you slightly. “It is safe for now.”

You blink your eyes open, frowning at him. “Safe? What are you talking about?”

His head tilts and he reminds you of a confused puppy. “Do you not hear the loud noises?”

A giggle slips out and that seems to perplex him further. “No, no. I do. It’s just… Have you not been around here before?”

“I have always lived here.”

“Have you… been on land before?”

His brows pinch and there’s the slightest of flushes coloring his cheeks a deep blue-gray. “I come up here every year.”

“How have you not heard them before then? They’re just fireworks.” You see the streak of a new one and point to it quickly, drawing his attention to it just before it reaches its peak and explodes in a sparkling cascade of gold. “They’re for entertainment. They’re not dangerous.” You pause. “Okay they are. But not at this distance. The only people who could possibly be in danger would be the ones firing them.”

“Fire… works?” He mumbles, sitting back on his haunches as his face remains tilted towards the sky even though the phosphorus has long since burned out. “Will there be more?”

You slowly push yourself up, cautious of what he might do but his focus remains firmly upwards. “Yeah, they’ll keep shooting some singles off for a little bit longer then they’ll start the big show.”

He says nothing else and you wonder if you can use the time to slip away before you realize that he still has two tentacles wrapped around your ankles. There goes your chance for escape. At least he doesn’t seem interested in eating you. Yet.

Another firework goes and you watch his eyes widen as he follows its trajectory up until it stops in an explosion of color and sound. But you’re far more taken watching the childlike glee on his face and the way the colors gleam on his skin and tentacles. The colors add another level to his already stunning looks, making him look far more ethereal and angelic. He grins as he watches and he looks much less like a terrifying monster. Though you worry what will happen once the fireworks stop and there’s nothing to distract him. Maybe when the real show starts he’ll be so engrossed that you can slip yourself free of the tentacles and make a quick and quiet escape.

You shake your head, looking away and up at the sky too. There’s nothing much you can do right now with their grip on you still too tight, so you might as well also watch the show. The fireworks are slowly starting to increase in frequency and he seems to squirm in excitement the closer together the pops of color come.

“Do you have a name?” You ask suddenly, looking back over at him. Maybe you can text Namjoon or Taehyung and tell them that if you disappear to look for something with that name. Probably Taehyung. He’d be more likely to believe that you’ve been taken by a monster than Namjoon. He’d probably ask if you’ve drank or smoked anything. Get too drunk camping once and claim that bigfoot tried to kidnap you and you never get believed again.

He doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t even seem to acknowledge that you spoke. But then his lips purse and he looks over at you for a moment. “Jimin.”

“Jimin?” He bobs his head and turns back to catch another firework going off. “My name’s Y/n.” You murmur, unsure if he’s even interested.

It hurts a little that he didn’t seem interested in you back, but you suppose that you don’t know whatever his monster customs are. And you really shouldn’t look too deeply into why it hurts that a monster doesn’t seem interested in you. That should be a good thing. It means you have a better chance of getting away.

There’s a long break in the fireworks and Jimin’s lips push out into an adorable pout as he turns to you with sad eyes. “Is it over?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No. It’s actually just getting ready to get started. Now it’s the big show. You thought it was good before. Just wait.”

He gives a simple nod and turns back to the sky, content to wait patiently for the rest. Silence descends on you both and you feel like you should be more worried about the tentacle monster sitting in front of you. But Jimin seems harmless enough, he certainly hasn’t tried to eat you or anything and that’s certainly got to count for something. He seems far more interested in the fireworks than in you now anyway.

You’re just starting to relax when something cool and damp brushes the skin of your lower back. You freeze, back stiff as whatever it is tentatively touches the warm skin before slithering further up your shirt. You bite down on the urge to scream, you don’t want to startle Jimin again. Just because he was protective before, doesn’t mean that a scream coming from you would produce the same result. And before you can twist to see what is crawling up your shirt, the tentacles around your ankles slide a little further up your legs, ends timidly probing along your flesh as they go.

Another tentacle, one of the thicker ones, slides across your arm, wrapping once around your wrist and nestling the tip into your palm. The cool sensation is bizarrely familiar and it takes you only a moment to realize that whatever crawled up your shirt a moment ago is another tentacle. You’re about to speak when a thin tentacle trails up your arm to rest against your shoulder, gently tracing your jaw and neck.

You swallow. “Um, Jimin?” All you get is a hum in response. Does he not realize what’s going on? “Jimin? What’s happening?”

Either your words or tone finally pulls his attention to you and when he sees his tentacles wrapped around you, he flushes a pretty blue. He scoots away, working to encourage them to release you, but this time of year they always have a bit more mind of their own. He makes an irritated clicking noise when they don’t move.

The one in your hand seems to respond to his sound though you’re not sure if it’s the way he wanted it to or not but it tightens around your wrist slightly before becoming… slicker?

You look at it, a weird mix of horror and maybe a little arousal. Maybe you shouldn’t have watched so much hentai when you were younger. You look back up at Jimin, at a complete loss. “Jimin?”

Jimin looks incredibly embarrassed, burying his face in his hands and making more distressed clicking noises. Probing tentacles aside, he looks adorable all flustered like this. A few of his tentacles wrap around his wrists and shoulders, patting his skin soothingly but that only seems to make him more distressed.

The tentacle at your back has reached the tie to your bikini top beneath your shirt and is prodding at the knot with interest. You don’t know what to do to stop the distress you can practically feel coming from Jimin. The tentacle in your hand squirms slightly, drawing your attention back to it. You swallow, sneaking a quick peek at Jimin as you do the only, seemingly illogical, thing you can think of right now and you close your hand around the rowdy tentacle and squeeze.

The result is instantaneous and certainly not what you had expected. Jimin moans. So then even if he’s not in control, he can still feel through them. Interesting to know. Jimin’s mouth hangs open for a moment before his gaze is meeting yours and you suddenly feel like maybe that was the wrong thing to do.

There’s simmering fire in his eyes as he tries to speak as calmly and evenly as possibly. “I told you I come here once a year, correct?” You nod and he continues. “I come here to mate.”

You blink at him, mind completely blanking out. “M-mate?” You hate how high your voice sounds.

He nods, sending a glare at the tentacles touching you. “When I saw you here, I had assumed you were one that I have spent the mating period with before.”

“Fuck, did I ruin your hookup?”

“Hookup?”

Your body heats with embarrassment. Maybe if you ask nicely, Jimin will let you go drown. “Whoever you were supposed to meet here. Did they not show up because I was here?”

He’s quick to shake his head. “I did not have plans. But sometimes if someone is near they will stop by. If they are not, I can take care of myself.”

The image of Jimin splayed out on the rocks by himself, tentacles sliding across his skin, wrapped around his cock, drawing more of those noises from him shoots straight to your core. Your pussy clenches around nothing and your hand accidentally tightens around Jimin’s tentacle again, drawing a gasp from him.

“I apologize for not warning you sooner. The fireworks distracted me but it appears that it did not distract them.” He gestures to his tentacles. “Give me a moment and I should be able to free you so you can leave.”

His eyes slip closed and your gaze drags over him, startling slightly when you realize he’s started to grow hard too. You feel crazy that the first thing you think is how badly you want to touch.

This is such a bad idea, but before you can stop yourself or second guess, you’re speaking. “What if... you didn’t though?”

Jimin freezes, but the tentacles seem to grow more restless at your words. Another thick one stretches the distance between you both to rest against your thigh, slicking your skin wherever it touches.

“You do not know what you are saying.” He grits out.

The tentacle in your hand squirms and you give it a small squeeze, maintaining eye contact with Jimin as you do so you get to fully enjoy the shudder that ripples through him. “I um, think I have a pretty good idea what I’m saying.”

He shakes his head, hair falling over his eyes. You didn’t think it would be so hard to convince a tentacle monster that you wanted him to fuck you. This was by far the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. For all you know, he could eat his partner afterwards. If you live past this encounter, no one would ever let you live it down. If they even believed you. Your gaze drops involuntarily back to his cock and you find that he's fully hard now. And it’s almost a little intimidating how big he is, longer and thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before. You don’t think your fingers would be able to wrap around the girth. But any apprehensions you think you’d feel normally are nowhere to be seen, all you feel is overwhelming want. You want to try to fit him, to feel the burn as he stretches you out. You want to taste and you want him to absolutely ruin you.

Unsure of any other way to convince him that you do want this, you switch tactics. If you can’t convince him with words, you’ll just have to show him what you want. You release the tentacle in your hand, though it keeps itself wrapped around your wrist, and move to remove your shirt. Seeming to know your plan, or maybe just through a stroke of luck, the tentacle that has been exploring your bikini top seems to have discovered how to undo the ties and as your top hits the ground beside you, your top slips to your lap.

His eyes dip to the scrap of fabric in your lap before they trace slowly back up, expression worryingly blank. You belatedly realize that this might not even be a good signal to him that you do want this. You don’t know what others of his kind look like, if any of them look anything like you. For the most part, he looks human enough, you’d think that maybe this was enough, that maybe this is at least sort of familiar to him. You feel suddenly self conscious, this was such a dumb idea. You really shouldn’t let the horny brain lead. You’re just about to cross your arms to cover yourself when the tentacle that had been on your thigh slithers up your stomach to sit between your breasts.

You glance at Jimin and his eyes seem darker, jaw clenched tight. His tentacles seem to grow more agitated behind him and the ones around your ankles tighten to tug you closer, both to your surprise and apparently also Jimin’s. He flushes, staring down at you with wide eyes as your thighs come to rest against his.

The tentacle on your chest squirms and Jimin’s gaze drops to watch. Your gaze drops too, intending to look at the tentacle currently writhing around on your chest and smearing slick there but you only make it halfway. Because Jimin is now fully hard, thick cock curving up towards his belly and the sight of it has you enraptured. He looked big when he was still soft, but now fully hard, or at least what you assume is fully hard, he looks positively massive. The skin of his cock is the same muted tan of the rest of him, the tip almost blue-gray, close to the color his cheeks turned but deeper in color, and it’s leaking more silvery looking fluid. You wonder if it’s the same thing that is leaking from his tentacles.

Jimin shudders and it takes only a moment for you to realize that the reason is because a thin tentacle has wrapped itself around the base of his cock. It makes you want to touch too. So tentatively, you reach out, gaze flicking between his cock and his face to gauge his reaction and giving him more than enough time to pull away.

He watches your fingers brush against the tip, dragging a smear of slick further down the shaft but he makes no move to stop you. He lets out a shaky exhale and, emboldened by the noise, you wrap your fingers around him. Or you at least try your best to because his girth keeps your fingers from meeting.

Jimin makes a rumbling noise and then there are two more tentacles massaging at your thighs, working their way up until they meet the edge of your shorts. They only probe along the fabric for a moment before slipping beneath and continuing their exploration towards the apex of your thighs. They trace the edge of your bikini bottoms before one of them presses against your pussy through the thin fabric.

You gasp and Jimin’s gaze is back on your face, attention wholly focused on you as his tentacles press again, but this time with a little more pressure. One happens to brush past your clit and you jolt, a moan slipping from your lips and the tentacles seem desperate to recreate that reaction as they narrow their focus to your clit.

Jimin groans again and his hands come up to cup your cheeks, his tentacles all stilling for a moment. He waits until you look up at him. “Are you sure? It will be harder to stop once we start. Are you positive you can handle it? I do not mind spending the time alone.”

It’s sweet how concerned he is about you. But now that he’s started, all you can think about is being fucked by him while his tentacles play with every inch of you. You squirm back slightly and he seems to take that as rejection, if the flash of disappointment you catch on his face is anything to go by. You quickly undo your shorts, tugging them down your legs, assisted by his tentacles once they reach your ankles.

He swallows and you watch as the tentacles from your ankles relocate to your thighs to keep you spread wide as the two that had been in your pants resume their work on your clit, now free of the hindrance of cloth. You bring your slick fingers to your mouth and keep eye contact as you lick them clean. It’s salty like the sea, but rather than the bitterness of cum, his has a hint of sweetness to it. It’s slightly addictive.

He stares at you for a moment and then he’s making another clicking noise and the tentacle that had been around your wrist unwraps itself and slips between your legs to join the other two already there, though it bypasses your clit to circle your dripping hole instead.

“Needy.” He coos, though you’re not sure if it’s directed at you or his tentacles. Maybe both.

He shuffles in close again, seemingly content to just watch his tentacles play with you. You whine, you like the feel of his tentacles, but you want him to touch with his hands and lips too. You want more. Maybe the needy was directed at you after all. He glances up at your noise, watching the way your mouth drops open as his tentacle finally wriggles it’s way into your pussy. It’s firmer than you expected from touching it, but still much more malleable than a cock would be. But it’s softer nature allows it greater freedom to explore your walls as it moves slowly in and out of you, certainly a different experience for you but you definitely can’t find it in you to hate it when it can reach all the right spots inside of you easily.

You reach out, grabbing the first part of Jimin you can grab, his arm, and tug him insistently down on top of you. He complies easily, seemingly curious as to what you want. You wonder if he’s ever kissed a partner before, if that’s something that his kind does. You hesitate and Jimin immediately notices, head tilting in curiosity.

“What is wrong?”

You’re gasping before you can formulate your question, the tentacle inside you having quickly found your g-spot and is now making sure to rub it with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. Jimin’s head dips down and his nose rubs against yours.

“Are you okay? I have never been with a human and so I am unsure of what might hurt or bring pleasure. Please tell me if they are hurting you.”

He looks so sweet and it makes your heart stutter a little. You tilt your head, capturing his plush lips in a kiss. They’re warmer than you expected, giving the cooler temperature of his tentacles. It takes him a moment of inaction before he seems to catch on to how to kiss back. He makes a small noise when your tongue brushes his lips but he easily parts them for you. His sharp teeth skim your lip and it leaves you gasping into his mouth. He seems pleased with the response and he trails his lips across your jaw and down your neck.

“You did not answer my question.” He murmurs, teeth gently teasing the skin of your neck, mindful of their sharpness.

His tentacles are driving you mad, bringing you so close to your orgasm but seeming to know exactly when to slow back down to draw it out even longer. “What… question?” You gasp out.

“Are you okay?”

You’d scoff if the tentacles around your clit hadn’t started circling in tandem, winding the coil in your belly tighter. “So… so okay… Fuck, Jimin, are you sure you’ve never been with a human before?”

He pulls away from your neck enough to look down at you, a pleased smile stretching his lips. “I have not. Am I doing good?”

You nod enthusiastically, hands tangling in his hair to pull him back in for a messy kiss. He makes a pleased sort of clicking noise in the back of his throat and his tentacles speed up. And this time when your orgasm draws near his tentacles keep their speed rather than slowing again and you cum, back arching off the blanket as your pussy convulses around the tentacle. His tentacles continue their ministrations and Jimin pulls away to stare down at where his tentacle disappears inside you with wide eyed wonder.

He groans as he watches with rapt attention. “Does it do this every time?”

You squirm, oversensitivity quickly setting in as his tentacles refuse to let up. The borderline painful feeling robs you of words to tell him to slow down and give you just a moment to breath. The tentacle inside of you swells and then everything grows a little slicker as Jimin chokes on a gasp. You struggle to reach out to grasp any one of the tentacles, to just lessen the sensations ravaging your pussy just a little, but before you can even make contact, another tentacle is wrapping around both wrists and dragging them above your head.

“J-Jimin, please…”

Jimin pays you no mind, tentacles working faster under his focused gaze and it doesn't take long for you to be thrown into a second orgasm, though it feels almost like the first one never ended. You cry out, much too loud even if the beach is seemingly deserted right now. You shudder as your orgasm crests and Jimin’s tentacle seems to stiffen inside you before you feel suddenly wetter and stickier and full. The tentacle slips out of you after a few weaker thrusts and a small gush of thick liquid follows and the tentacle suddenly seems much less enthusiastic than its counterparts. Fuck, did that mean…?

“Jimin,” you whine, waiting until he finally tears his gaze away from your dripping pussy. “Do… do your tentacles cum too?”

His head tilts in confusion. “Come?” He thinks for a moment before realization seems to overcome him. “Ah. Do you mean do my tentacles also release?”

Embarrassment creeps over you. Something so clinical shouldn’t have you aching to be filled again when you just came twice and apparently already filled. You nod shyly.

“Yes. They also release. It is to give the best chance of a successful mating.”

You swallow, eyeing the tentacles behind him wearily. “Do they all have to?”

He shakes his head, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “They do not. Only the big ones release. And from those, they do not all release every mating.”

You feel equal parts relieved and disappointed, though you know that you should probably question your disappointment. But you’ve already come this far, no reason to start questioning your potentially bad decisions now.

He tilts his head. “Does it bother you? They do not need to do it near you if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You choke, unsure how to respond for a moment. This whole situation should really terrify and appall you. But you only find yourself growing hotter at the idea of being used by his tentacles and covered in their cum. You chew your lip before giving a small nod.

His eyes trace over your face before he seems to light up and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “Does the thought of that arouse you, sweet? I must admit, most of my previous partners were less than enthused about that aspect of mating.”

You groan, wanting nothing more than to bury your face in your hands in shame but Jimin’s tentacles keep your hands studiously bound above your head. Even his own kind didn’t like it. Why were you so weird? He giggles, leaning down to brush your nose with his own. His face is set with a kind smile, but his eyes still dance with mirth and lust.

“I find it very arousing that you like it so much. Tell me what you are thinking about, sweet.”

To punctuate his words, another tentacle slips between your legs, rubbing along your sticky slit. You moan and Jimin’s eyes shine with fire. “I… was thinking about you fucking me and filling me up and leaving me all messy.”

He smirks. “I can do that, sweet. Just ask.”

“Jimin, please, fuck me… Fuck, ruin me…”

Jimin’s grin turns positively feral, sharp teeth on display. And for a moment, fear ripples through you as Jimin looks truly like a monster for the first time since he’s surfaced. But then his tentacles shift around him, eager for their chance to touch. Jimin shoos the thick tentacle away from your pussy, the ones around your thighs assisting him in situating you how he wants. He runs the tips of his cock through the mess left there by his tentacle and a pleased chirp leaves him.

“You are already so full. Do you think you can take more?” He purrs.

You nod and his cock presses against your entrance. He presses just the tip in and he stretches your pussy more than the tentacle did. You gasp, breath robbed from you as the stretch borders on too much. But Jimin seems to sense it and pauses with just the tip inside, allowing you all the time to adjust to his massive cock.

Jimin’s hands skim up your thighs, the tentacles resting passively on your clit once again coming to life and the jolt of pleasure has you squirming on Jimin’s cock. His hands rest on your hips, gripping them with bruising strength to keep you from moving. You whimper at the casual display of strength, at the way that he seems to not even be trying to hold you still while his tentacles slowly circle your clit to get you to relax.

Two other tentacles slip up your body, pressing against your breasts and kneading at the flesh experimentally. The sensation is different, while the tentacles don’t have the surface area the way a hand does, they are capable of moving in ways a hand simply can’t. They grope at the flesh, exploring and testing the limits. One brushes past your nipple, causing you to gasp and suddenly both are on the pebbled buds, playing with them to draw even more noises from you. Their motions mimic the motions on your clit and pleasure sparks across your body once again.

The tentacles shift slightly, long bodies draping down the sides of your breasts and then they press the mounds inwards, forcing the flesh together around the tentacle still resting on your sternum. Jimin grunts at the sudden pressure around his tentacle and your gaze drops to watch with fascination as the tentacle starts to thrust into the tight space, silvery tip gleaming with each press through.

Your pussy clenches at the thought of it slipping a little further up and into your mouth, of tasting that salty, sweet slick from the source. A high pitched noise sounds in Jimin’s throat as his hips stutter forward at the feeling of your pussy tightening around him and you moan as he slips a little further into you, stretching you just a little more. Now though, the stretch makes you ache for more, the burn finally passed with the aid of the tentacles playing with your clit and nipples and slowly pulling your pleasure back to the surface.

You really need him to be completely inside of you and when you dig your heels into his ass to try to get him to move, he seems hesitant. His tentacles, however, seem more than thrilled at the idea and more than happy to help you in your pursuit. The ones around your thighs tighten and pull you closer, until Jimin is buried to the hilt in the clutch of your pussy. The noise is filthy, the mess from his tentacle spilling out around his cock to smear on your thighs and drip down your ass.

Jimin goes rigid when he’s fully inside you, eyes trained on where you’re joined. He seems transfixed by the sight of your cunt swallowing down every inch he has. Your whine has his head snapping up to look at your face, drinking in the way you’re moaning. The tentacle between your breasts slips a little further up, tip bumping your chin once before it’s shifting to your lips. Your tongue darts out, swiping through the salty fluid. Jimin shudders, hips flexing where they press into you and you let your mouth fall open for his tentacle to slip in.

Your tongue swirls around the tip and it squirms, pushing in further than you expect and causing you to gag. It pulls itself from your mouth with a pop and you frown at it’s loss before shifting your gaze to Jimin, who seems to be glaring at the tentacle like it did something wrong.

“Jimin?” When he looks at you, you give him an amused smile. “It’s okay. It just takes me a minute.”

His head tilts but the tentacle makes its way tentatively back to your mouth, hovering until you open again for it to slip back in. It goes a lot slower this time, keeping its thrusts shallow. You hum encouragingly, tongue pressing and massaging the underside as it moves and the tentacle slides a little deeper. You gag only slightly this time, much more prepared now, and after a few thrusts you grow used to the intrusion and it can slip just a little bit more down your throat.

Jimin watches for a moment before groaning and then he’s pulling his cock out until just the tip remains before slamming back in. You moan around his tentacle, noise muffled as it delves further down your throat. It stays there for a moment and the lack of oxygen has your head start to spin. Your hands twitch where they’re still bound above your head, but before the real need for oxygen comes and you have to try to alert Jimin that you need to breathe, the tentacle is pulling out, switching to shallow thrusts while you get a quick break to breathe. The sudden rush of oxygen has you feeling nearly euphoric and you can only hope that the tentacle does it again. When you whine around it, it pushes back into your throat and the rest of the whine is muffled by it’s girth.

Jimin’s fingers flex against your hips as he watches and feels how much of his tentacle slips into the waiting warmth of your mouth and with a moan he starts fucking into your pussy with a quick pace. Your hands grab at the tentacle binding you, needing something, anything, to ground yourself as Jimin fucks you senseless. You feel wholly overwhelmed at the way his cock fills you, the way the tentacles swirl around your clit, your nipples and breasts, at the way the one in your mouth begins to stiffen up.

The tentacles shift on your breasts, kneading the soft flesh once again before pinching at your nipples. You moan around the tentacle in your mouth and it gives a shudder before flooding your mouth and throat. You choke slightly, jerking your head slightly at the sheer volume being released into your mouth, far more than you can handle. Spit and cum drip from the corners of your mouth as you struggle to swallow and the tentacle pulls itself from your mouth before it's finished, painting the lower half of your face even more in its silvery essence. Jimin’s eyes gleam at the sight, seeming to become even more frantic with his thrusts.

“J-jimin…” You whine, voice rough from use. You’re not entirely sure what you’d finish that statement with.

“You are doing so well.” He coos and the praise has your mind going fuzzy. “You look so pretty like this.”

He reaches up, sliding a hand through the mess on your cheeks before letting his hand drag the mess back down your body, leaving a shiny trail down your throat, in the valley between your breasts and across your stomach. He slams in particularly hard and you cry out, voice echoing across the empty beach and ocean, much too loud but you no longer care.

Jimin glows golden, the light haloing him and your fucked out mind is sluggish to make sense of the sudden color change. Then you remember why you were out here to begin with and you make the connection just as the resounding boom of the firework follows just after the shower of color. The fireworks show must be finally starting because the next second Jimin is bathed in blue, then pink.

But as quick as your attention was taken by the colorful shadows splashed across Jimin’s beautiful face, it’s taken back as he shifts suddenly, hands leaving your hips to push your thighs together as he continues to fuck you. Your calves come to rest on one shoulder and Jimin uses the new position to fuck you even harder.

Something slick drags along the crease where your thighs are pressed together and a second later a tentacle is pushing into the tight space. Your skin tingles where it presses into your skin and with every thrust it makes through the tight press of your thighs, it bumps the tentacles on your clit. Jimin presses a kiss to your leg and you feel the breath leave him as his tentacle speeds up and he hisses.

The sensations are nearly overwhelming, to the point that you almost miss the new slim tentacle kneading the flesh of your ass. It delivers a pinch to the skin that leaves you gasping and you’re much more aware of it as it runs along the seam of your ass. You squirm, or at least attempt to, because between the tentacles restraining you and Jimin’s firm grip on your thighs, you’re left nearly immobile as you get fucked. The tentacle slips a little further up, gathering some slick before it’s dipping back down to prod at the tight ring of muscle of your hole.

You shudder and if you could move, you’d press down onto the tentacle, force it to fill you because you need it as much as you need Jimin’s cock in you. “Fuck, please, don’t tease…”

Jimin’s face is set in concentration and you don’t think he heard you, except a second later the tentacle breaches your ass. You moan, glad that it was a smaller one to start. It thrusts tentatively, growing bolder as your noises raise in pitch and then a second slim tentacle is joining, slipping past the tight ring of muscle to thrust in counterpoint to the first.

Jimin’s thrusts slow, his head tilting back as he pants. He looks like a sculpture, so beautiful that it aches a little. Something that people should look at and marvel over. A moan slips past his lips as the tentacles in your ass speed up a little, taking some time to also shift apart and spread you open even more.

“You… are endless…” Jimin breaths out. It sounds reverent.

The tentacles slip from you and you have no time to mourn the loss before they’re being replaced by one of the thicker tentacles. The stretch hurts a little, but with so many other things happening to your body at the same time, you’re quickly distracted from the ache. The tentacle stills anyway, allowing you time to adjust to its thick girth.

“You are so full of surprises.” He says, head dropping forward once more to let his gaze rake over your shuddering figure.

The tentacle in your ass thrusts in response to Jimin’s words and when you don’t indicate any pain, both pull out and thrust roughly back in. The tentacle between your thighs and in your ass thrust opposite Jimin, keeping you full and stimulated when Jimin pulls out.

“Please… Jimin please, fill me up, you said you would…” You feel slightly delirious with need, every thrust of his tentacle adds extra pressure to your clit and you feel so close to cumming, teetering on the edge.

Jimin gives you no verbal response, only that of him pressing your thighs together a little harder. A few more thrusts of the tentacle between your thighs has you clamping down on Jimin’s cock and the one in your ass as you cum, body shuddering as the tentacles and Jimin continue to thrust. You squeeze your eyes shut, vision nearly whiting out entirely as your orgasm slams into you. The tentacle between your thighs lasts only a handful more thrusts before its stiffening and releasing, splattering your chest, belly, and thighs in the silver cum. It gives a few weak final spurts before slipping back through your thighs as Jimin parts them once more.

His cock twitches as his gaze falls over you messy form, the normally silvery liquid lighting up in splashes of color with every new explosion that happens above you both. He’s never seen a more beautiful sight. One of his hands lands on your thigh as the other bats his tentacles away from your clit, an action that you're grateful for for only a moment because he quickly replaces them with his fingers. You arch and cry out, jerking your hands with enough force that you seem to startle the binding tentacle and it releases you. Your hands wrap around his wrist, tugging futilely at it to get him to let up.

You moan his name desperately, trying to squirm away from the sensation as his tentacles keep you held close as he continues to fuck you through your overstimulation.

“Can you do that for me one more time? You feel so good when you do that, sweet.”

You whimper. You want to say no, that it hurts a little and that you really don’t think you’re capable of another orgasm. But the pout he wears stops you and you find yourself nodding without even thinking about how you’re going to get past the too much feeling currently overwhelming your body.

Jimin gives you another feral grin, eyes roving over your figure as his fingers work quick circles around your clit. For no experience with a human, he’s an incredibly fast learner. He seems to know your body better than your ex had and the two of you had been together for almost 2 years.

The tentacles on your breasts move to collect some of the slick covering you, smearing it around your nipples as the pinch and play with them, the slick adding a new layer of feeling to the actions.

“Come on, sweet.” Jimin purrs as his cock seems to swell ever more and the tentacle in your ass starts to stiffen.

Another rough thrust and a few twists of his fingers and you’re cumming again with a cry of his name. Your pussy and ass convulses around him and Jimin lets out a series of clicks and chirps as he finally cums, flooding your pussy and ass with more silvery slick. There seems to be a never ending stream from his cock and after a few moments, pressure on your lower stomach makes you look down, groaning at the sight of your slightly distended belly.

Jimin makes a contented noise, rubbing gently over the swell. “You would look so beautiful swollen with my children.”

His cock gives another twitch and a feeble last spurt of cum and Jimin and his tentacles seem to deflate. His chin presses to his chest as he takes in slow, deep breaths. The tentacles all slowly slip from your body and you mourn the slight warmth you lose. Another few moments pass and then Jimin is gingerly pulling his cock from your abuse pussy and gazing over your whole body with almost reverence.

You feel too exhausted to do much more, but you can feel his cum dripping from you, forming a puddle beneath your ass. At least you're next to the ocean for easy clean up. If you had the energy to do that. Maybe in 5 minutes… Or an hour. You can’t even feel your legs right now. You’re pretty sure you’d just drown.

Jimin stretches out beside you, arm coming to wrap around your middle, seemingly unbothered by the fact that it lands in a mess. You blearily realize that his tentacles seem much smaller now too. His head tilts and you realize that he’s watching the fireworks again. Like he didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life and leave you ruined for anyone who comes after him.

You watch in silence for a while, endeared by Jimin’s ohs and ahs as he discovers new types of fireworks, the different shapes and effects that can happen.

“Jimin.” You call softly. His nose brushes your shoulder in response. “Will… Nevermind. It’s stupid.”

Jimin pushes himself up enough so that he can look down at you, frown marring his pretty face. “What is it?”

You fidget, suddenly hating that you’re naked and still covered in him. You glance over at the water.

“Do you wish to go in, sweet?”

It’s an easy out and you don’t feel strong enough to ask the real question yet, so you give him a simple nod. He grins, scooping you up and gracefully sliding you both into the water, arm wrapped tight around your middle to keep you afloat.

Colors flash around you as you stare into Jimin’s eyes, every color reflected there as well. Before you can second guess yourself, you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. He lets out a surprised noise and then giggles when you pull away.

“Do you wish to go again?”

Embarrassment fills you and you shake your head. “No. Um…” You take a deep breath. You can do this. “Will I see you again?”

Jimin’s face is unreadable for a painful stretch of time, though you’re sure it’s only a few seconds before he’s grinning. “I find myself quite taken by humans. I could certainly use a guide.”

You grin back, pecking him again. “First lesson, when humans like someone and want to spend time with them and go on dates, they give them kisses.”

He hums, giving you a kiss of his own, just a little deeper than yours. “I think I quite like kisses.” Then he grins and it’s full of mischief. “I think fireworks are my favorite though.”

You snort, prodding him with a finger. “You sure it’s the fireworks you like?”

He makes a thoughtful noise before nodding. “They make you luminous, sweet.”

#bangtanarmynet #btsguild #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #magicshopnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanhq #bts x reader #jimin x reader #bts smut #jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jamaisjoons summer collab #tsb event 2020 #tsb collab 2020 #monster au #tentacle au

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werenotadulting · 3 years

Text

Routine Procedure pt. 5

Over the next couple of days, it was actually abnormal for Kate not to give me some special attention down there during a diaper change. Just woke up? Let's try using my vibrator on your soaked diaper. Need a change before lunch? How about reverse cowgirl while laying there on top of your fresh diaper. Time for your night diaper? Bedtime blowjob.

Don't get me wrong, Kate and I have always had a very good sex life, but this past week was unlike any other.

On Saturday, in the middle of a mid-afternoon change, was when Kate suggested we try getting out of the house for a bit.

"You really soak through these diapers quick, Mike. We're gonna have to see about getting some more soon."

"I suppose we should, right? I mean, they're working infinitely better than that condom thing," I said as I was laying back while Kate took care of wiping me down.

Despite what she had said about showing me how to change myself, she didn't seem to mind taking care of it, and I was in no rush to put a stop to it considering what was in it for me.

"That's very true. There was only that one minor leak you had last night, which I'm sure we can find a way to prevent in the future. I'll put in an order for some new diapers tonight, so they get here by Monday."

Kate secured the last tape and ran a finger along the elastic leg gathers. "You know, that new game store opened up in the mall on the other side of town. What do you say we stop over there and see how it is?"

I froze. Being diapered at home was one thing. Going out in public though.... Kate seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.

"Mike. Earth to Mike. Remember what we talked about? No one is going to be paying attention to the size of your butt or the sound of your pants. And guess what? Even if they do, who cares? You have a medical need to wear diapers. Just like people who have trouble walking use canes, it's a medical thing. You didn't ask to be incontinent."

────────

I looked at myself in the mirror. My jeans appeared to do their job of concealing my diaper.

"You know," Kate popped up behind me in the reflection, "if you're so worried about people seeing, they do make onesies for adults. Just a thought."

I scoffed at her, and we headed off to the mall.

About 30 minutes later, we arrived. I couldn't help but notice that it seemed like there were a heck of a lot more people there than normal. Another 10 minutes later and we were finally able to find a parking space towards the back. As I got out of the car, I made sure my shirt was pulled down as far as it could go. It was all I needed for my shirt to ride up and expose my plastic waistband.

Kate grabbed my hand, but not before giving my padded butt a firm slap. The corner of her mouth turned up ever so slightly, and we walked hand-in-hand up to the mall.

────────

You know that feeling you get when it feels like someone is watching you? Yeah, it did not go away no matter how much time passed as we meandered through the mall.

Our first stop was in the food court, where we grabbed a late lunch of chicken and waffles. Kate went to order the food while I found a spot to sit down.

"All ready," Kate said as she walked up with a tray piled with chicken. "They accidentally made your lemonade a large, and I wasn't about time tell them they were wrong."

"It is the best homemade lemonade in town," I said, grabbing my plate off of the tray.

Kate set the tray down, then went to grab a couple of napkins. A few moments later, I noticed my shirt rising up and the back of my diaper being pulled open. I spun around and swatted the offending hand away, which turned out to belong to Kate.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Giving you a diaper check, what else?"

"We are in the middle of the mall!"

"It's been awhile since you had your diaper changed, and I know you are bad at knowing when you're at capacity," Kate gave me a 'prove me wrong' look.

"I'm fine!! Just... not out in broad daylight, please?" I pleaded.

"Well I didn't even get a chance to properly check just now, but if you say so...."

────────

After stopping in a couple clothing stores, ("Hey, we should think about getting you some new jeans. Those ones seem a little tight all of the sudden.") we finally made our way to the new gaming store. It was like a one-stop shop for gamers, with board games, collectibles, and video games. Towards the back, there were tables setup, where people could break out their games or card decks and hang out for a bit.

Once we had searched down all the aisles, we found ourselves in the back next to the gaming tables.

"Hey, we're looking for two more for Ticket to Ride! Do you guys want in?" said a blonde girl from a table in the corner. She and another girl were setting up the board, getting ready to start.

Kate's eyes grew to the size of saucers.

"Oh heck yes! I never lose at this game!" It was true, she did never lose, and she never let me hear the end of it whenever we played.

An hour later, and it was clear that it was between Kate and Melanie, the blonde girl, on who would be crowned victorious. The other girl and I had all but given up. Seeing that there was no way I could complete all my routes, I had long since resorted to my usual strategy of trying to sabotage Kate.

"Annnnnd 110, 111, 112. I have retained my crown," Kate gloated.

"Oh wonderful," I said, "I can't wait to hear about this all the way home."

"Well played, you two," Melanie chimed in. "Don't worry about cleaning up, we are actually waiting for some friends to come play a round."

"Oh thank you, that's so nice," Kate said as we both stood up to leave.

"Of course! It was nice meet....." Melanie trailed off, staring at my crotch.

Both Kate and I followed her gaze, and it was then that I saw that I'd had a major leak.

Large wet spots had formed down the inside of my jeans, as well as two half-moon shapes on my butt. Looking at my chair, there was more evidence of my accident, there for all to see.

It was obvious to anyone looking what had happened.

I was speechless.

"Oh shit, we're so sorry! Let me just wipe this up..." Kate said as she frantically wiped the seat down with a tissue.

The girls were equally dumbstruck, as they watched Kate lead me out of the store waddling behind her.

────────

The feeling of eyes on me increased tenfold on the walk through the mall to the car. Without a jacket or anything to cover up with, we moved as fast as we could, whispers and giggles following us out.

In what seemed like an eternity later, we finally made it back to the car.

"I'll get the seats cleaned, don't worry baby, just get in." Kate pulled open her door and got the car started. I didn't need to be told twice, as I practically leaped into the car.

"That...I...I'm so embarrassed...." I was starting to get choked up, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

"Hey, hey, there there sweetie, I'm sorry. That can't have been fun, I know. It's not your fault." Kate was rubbing my back, the car still in park.

"That doesn't make it any less humiliating! And it's not even like I had a little accident, Kate, my diaper leaked!" I was almost yelling, my emotions getting the better of me.

"Shhhh baby, it's okay, take deep breaths, it's going to be okay. We didn't know anyone there, no one important saw, you'll be fine."

I was still upset, but I listened to her, taking steadying breaths that at least got my heart rate under control. Seeing this, Kate started to back out of our parking spot.

"Let's get you home and into a bath, baby," Kate soothed. We drove on in silence for awhile as I continued to calm down.

I think," Kate broke the silence, "that we might want to consider getting you some thicker protection. Just to be safe, you know? What do you think?"

"I think that means I will definitely be waddling, and it will be obvious to everyone what I'm wearing," I said, staring out the window.

"Well, do you prefer people maybe noticing that you walk a little funny, or running the risk of leaking like happened back there?"

"I don't know Kate, I just...I don't want to think about it."

"I'll take care of it then, babe," Kate said, "those hospital diapers are notoriously cheap anyway. We'll find something that works better for you. And I'll look into some of those onesies, so you don't feel so self-conscious about your diaper sticking out."

"Yeah, whatever," I said, as we continued down the highway.

────────

Kate knew exactly where to look when she logged on to order new diapers.

Let's see, she thought, I think probably a case of ABU Simple Ultra. Maybe a mixed case with some fun prints? No, it was too soon to go all-in like that. I'll just add in another pack of PeekABUs. That's 90 diapers, so at 2-3 diapers a day, that should be good for a month. Better throw in some boosters, too. And set up a recurring monthly order, yes please.

With that order placed, it was then to the ODU website, where she settled on several of their basic onesies.

"All in good time, Kate," she muttered to herself as she looked longingly at all of the cute designs. She could just picture how adorable Mike would look in that dinosaur onesie.

She was so horny right now. The sight of Mike in his wet jeans, his face burning bright red. Her hand slipped down the front of her shorts.

Oh fuck, she thought, he was so humiliated. She rubbed her clit to the image of Mike standing there over the pee puddle on his chair while those girls looked on.

Had she taped on his diaper perhaps a little loose before they went to the mall? Yes.

Had she intentionally ordered Mike a large lemonade? Also yes.

Had she suspected during her impromptu diaper check at the food court that Mike would protest and insist he was fine? Triple yes.

Had she known those flimsy hospital diapers would fail sooner rather than later, and she could talk Mike into something a bit thicker?

Ding-ding-ding, we have a winner.

Kate closed the laptop and got up.

She had a diaper boy she needed to fuck.

#werenotadulting

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djarinbarnes · 3 years

Text

me olvidarás - three

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Pairings: Javier Peña x female reader

Warnings for the chapter: charming javi. (again, yes he needs his own warning) kissing. dry humping. fingering. flirting. again, doubtful javi. talk about sex. a little angst. but a lot of fluff.

Word count: 6.2k

Summary: an undeniable warm summer vacation in Bogotá. simply trying to get away from your nosey, boring parents and live for once, you meet a man who impresses you beyond where your imagination could ever take you.

a/n: more slowburn, yet a little action. 😏

previous chapter · series masterlist

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The hours that pass after that are excruciatingly long, and you find yourself bored out of your mind. You have a small garden that connects your parents’ rented apartment to yours, and that’s where you spend the most of your hours.

Your trusty, worn-out copy of Jane Eyre is in your hands, and you’re nearing the halfway mark again. With sunglasses resting on your nose, you can get away with occasionally dozing off, your parents probably not even having noticed you weren’t at home all night.

Under the stinging rays of the sun you lay, finding comfort in your book as you miss Javi. Missing a stranger. How pathetic, you think to yourself and mentally condemn yourself to hell for 1. Falling in love with a devilishly handsome stranger that 2. Is pushing 40.

You can’t believe you let it come to this, no matter how good it felt. Somehow, with Javi, it felt right. You couldn’t explain why, but there was just something about his aura that captivated you and held you prisoner.

You knew you wanted to know more about him. You wanted to know everything. You wanted to feel him, all of him. And you knew now, that Javi was the one you were losing your virginity to, no matter what it took you.

Now, some may say that losing your virginity to a stranger you’ve met on some vacation is one of the stupidest things you could do, but right now you didn’t really care. You couldn’t care less about what other people thought of what was right and wrong, because you knew this felt right for you.

You reach over and take the soda by your side, sipping the sugary beverage into your mouth through the straw. You sigh and put the soda back on the table, the book following it. You lean back and let your skin soak up the rays of uv you so desperately need.

You don’t know how long you’re asleep for, but you’re startled awake by banging on your front door. You quickly sit up and gather yourself, before pulling your robe around your body, the flimsy material barely covering your skin.

You open the front door reluctantly, not really sure if you’re awaiting a visit from someone. Your head is cloudy from falling asleep in the sun, and you mentally cheer at the fact that you’re not sunburnt.

In front of you stands Javi, a tidy bouquet in hand. Your lips tug into a wide smile as you swiftly pull the sunglasses off your face, watching as Javi gulps at your undressed state. Bikini and a robe - he didn’t expect you to open your door like this. He really didn’t… And yet there you were. Even more beautiful than this morning.

You watch as he extends the hand with the bouquet towards you. He’s bought you roses. It’s your first ever bouquet of flowers, and they’re bigger than any roses you’ve ever seen before. Red, voluminous and just downright beautiful.

“I saw these and thought of you.” He says, and if you’re not mistaken there’s a slight blush littering his cheeks. You couldn’t have seen that right. Maybe he was just shocked that you weren’t really dressed.

“Oh my god, Javi they’re absolutely breathtaking!” You take them from his hands and bring them to your nose, inhaling the sweet scent of the flowers. “Thank you so much.” You lean forward and place a kiss on his cheek before you turn on your heel.

“Come on in. I have no idea if vases exist in these apartments, otherwise I guess a glass will do…” you say as you rummage through the different cabinets in the kitchen, before making your way through the sparse living room before finally coming up with something that you figured was supposed to be a vase.

You watch him through your lashes as he takes uneasy steps around your apartment, looking at every little painting on the walls and books forgotten in the unsubstantial shelf, supposedly a bookcase. You set the roses in the filled vase on the small table in the middle of the apartment, before peeling your robe off your shoulders and placing it on one the chairs, before you make your way into your bedroom to change into something more comfortable.

You knew Javi watched you as you basically stripped in front of him, but you wanted to tease him. You were hoping that he would give in and possibly sleep with you if you teased him enough. He was a man, after all. And men had desires, after all.

You found a flowy summer dress, forgoing a bra since it was already a little tight around your bust. You swiped on a coat of mascara, mentally cursing yourself to the devil when you accidentally hit the bridge of your nose with the wand.

Understandably though, since your hands were shaking. You hadn’t even noticed before now. You quickly get rid of the black mark before you gather your lip balm from your bag, bringing it along with you this time if you were lucky enough to place more kisses upon the man in the living room.

His eyes followed you as you walked out of your bedroom and over to your handbag, putting the small container into the bag. You drape it over your shoulder and turn to him with a smile.

“Alright. I’m ready to see Bogotá through the eyes of you.” You walk up to him and he swiftly pulls you in for a determined kiss. Your arms automatically wrap around his next as you deepen the kiss slightly, pushing your body against his to have him closer.

His tongue glides over your bottom lip again, taking you back to the night before. You feel your heart pick up the pace at the thought. His hands are on your waist, drawing you impossibly closer. You feel the heat radiating off his body, and you figure it’s from the scorching heat of the Colombian afternoon sun. Maybe mixed with a little bit of desire. Hopefully a little bit of desire.

You whimper against his lips as his hands tighten on your hips, his fingers digging slightly painfully into your muscles. It’s a good kind of painful, though. It lights your nerve endings on fire, just like his touch did yesterday. There’s an urgency in the way he’s kissing you, almost like he was craving you as much you were craving him.

His hands are rough as they slide up your sides, swiftly coming around your upper arms to hold you out in front of him, your lips still perked as if he was kissing you, the swift breakage of your intimate moment making your erratically beating heart thud uncomfortably in your chest.

“We need to go. I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off of you if we do this much longer.” He breathes, and you can easily see the conflicting feelings battling away behind his hooded eyes. You lean into him again, forcing yourself out of his grip to place another kiss on his lips.

“I don’t want you to hold back.” You whisper against his lips, before you pull away and make your way to the door leading out to the small garden between your parents’ apartment and yours, which hadn’t been fully closed. “But we can do that later. Don’t need my parents to see anything,” you cast a smirk back in his direction, before sliding it open fully, walking over a small patio to locate your parents.

“Mom, dad, I’m going out. I won’t be home for dinner, alright?” you smile when you find them. Your dad is asleep in the shade of a balcony extending over the garden. Your mom is reading her usual magazine, and you know she’s deeply invested in whatever Doctor-Sexy novel that’s found its way into the magazine this time when she doesn’t protest.

Normally they would be against you going out alone in a city you barely knew, but you had spent most of the day yesterday checking out the city after your arrival, where normal people would’ve probably been tired after a flight like that.

But you weren’t - quite the contrary though. You had been full of energy and determination as you’d dressed yourself in your most comfortable hiking shoes that you’d packed with the knowledge that Bogotá was located on the high plateau of the Andes.

You loved exploring - a lot. In the span of a few hours, you’d found more than enough small taverns, shops and restaurants you wanted to visit in the three weeks you were staying in Bogotá. When the sun had gotten too warm and the air too humid, you’d gone home, taken a shower and changed clothes - and you know what happened then. Something with a handsome stranger.

You had no idea where Javi was taking you, and it almost felt too good to be true. It felt like a literal fairytale, being swept off your feet by a handsome, older stranger who brought you flowers and complimented you on your looks, even though you barely knew one another.

Maybe it was the Colombian custom, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. It was a whole new world for you, to actually feel interest from the opposite sex - well, not exactly new, but the whole reciprocation of feelings that you were sure was there.

He even opened the door for you, watching you as you slid into the passenger’s seat of his car. He’s quickly on the other side of the car, seating himself in the driver’s seat. When the car roars to life, the sound of the engine finally manages to drown out the sound of your heart beating in your chest. You admire him as he pushes the sunglasses resting on his dashboard onto his nose.

It was so exciting and scary at the same time, going out with Javi in a city you barely knew. You hoped that he would show you something extraordinary, but you literally had no idea what he had planned for the two of you. You watched the small apartments slowly turn into nothing else but landscape, and it dawned on you that he was taking you out of the city.

“Okay, so I guess I’m not going to see Bogotá today, huh?” you tease as you turn your body toward him. You watch as his lips tug into a smile as he casts a look at your bared legs, the soft swell of your chest under the flower-patterned dress you were wearing.

He noticed the air condition had made goosebumps rise on your skin and pebbled your nipples, letting him know you hadn’t put on a bra. God fucking damn it. He felt his pants tightening over his hips, and he mentally cursed himself to the devil. God, you were really going to be the death of him.

You watched as his hands tightened around the steering wheel, and you cast your eyes down his body. You bit your lip as you noticed the slight bulge in his pants. It was like a lightbulb going off over your head as you pushed the seatbelt strap under your right arm before leaning over the middle console slightly, placing your mouth right against his ear.

“See something you like, Javi?”

You watch as goosebumps rise on the skin beneath his ear, all the way down his neck. You look over his shoulder to take in the area of his crotch again, watching him twitch slightly. You bit your lip, overthinking a possible plan that wouldn’t distract him too much.

You slowly let your hand follow his front, all the way down to rest against the hard cock in his pants. You very much enjoyed the fact that you had this effect on him. You heard him draw in a deep breath of air as your hand finally came in contact with him, and you watched as his eyes fluttered slightly.

“What are you doing, hermosa…” you can hear he’s short of breaths, and it makes your heart do a slight flip. It turns you on, knowing the effect you have on him. Maybe it turns him on as well - knowing you’re aroused and willing to tease the living shit out of him.

“Eyes on the road, Javi…” you whisper in his ear as he tugs his lip in between his teeth, your hand moving over his bulge with gentle strokes. You tug his earlobe into your mouth, sucking on the soft flesh before you lick up the outside of his ear with a firm tongue. He lets out a moan as his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.

You place a kiss on his tragus, then his cheekbone before peppering kisses down his jaw. You reach the column of his throat, placing small kisses over his pulse point, feeling the way his pulse is beating erratically under the soft, tan skin. Your hand is still moving in gentle circles, his breath languid as he’s still watching the road.

“Does this turn you on, Javi?” you whisper into his ear and he nods with a gulp. You smile as you go back to kissing his neck, hearing the way his breathing got caught in his throat again. You barely feel it when he brings the car to a stop, but you definitely feel the way he turns his body violently, his hand grasping you behind the neck, drawing you in for a hot and heavy kiss.

His tongue is dominating your mouth, tasting every crevice of your teeth and the roof of your mouth. You’re a breathless mess by the time he lets you go, yanking his seatbelt off before he’s undoing yours and basically manhandling you into his lap.

You’re whimpering as his hands find your hips, grinding his crotch forcefully into your mound, drawing a moan out of your mouth. His tongue is still exploring your mouth with everything it’s got, drawing a wet patch into the crotch of your panties. The fabric of his jeans is rough against your inner thighs as they grow more and more sensitive as your arousal begins to bloom in your belly.

Javi’s hands are traveling up and down your hips, gripping your flesh on top of your dress, bunching the fabric in his hands as he continues to ravish your mouth. You place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, whimpering wantonly into his mouth as the friction from his bulge draws you closer and closer to an inevitable orgasm.

It’s a whole new feeling from the few times you’ve brought yourself satisfaction with your own fingers, and it turns you on even more to think that someone is present to watch you come undone. You bite onto his bottom lip as you moan out, the friction against your clit finally makes the coil in your abdomen snap. Your eyes snap shut as your fingers dig themselves into his shoulders, his hands stilling your hips over his, holding your convulsing pussy tight against his bulge, letting him feel the contractions happening within your panties.

You let his bottom lip go as you finally come down from your startling high, opening your eyes slightly to take in his lust-blown eyes looking right back at you. You tug your own lip in between your teeth, your chest heaving from the daze you found yourself in as you lean back slightly, accidentally leaning against the steering wheel, making the horn go off.

It startles both of you before you both break out into laughter of just how unconventional the whole situation was. You hoped that no one noticed your little escapade - hell, you didn’t even know where you were. You finally looked around, noticing you were literally in the middle of nowhere, and you saw nothing but water and trees around the car.

It was like he’d driven you straight out into what appears to be a lake, and you’d been too occupied with him to even notice where you were. You popped open the door and stepped out into what appeared to be a mix of sand and dirt. You let out a laugh as you finally inhaled something that wasn’t the warm air of the car that reeked of sweat and sex.

Javi followed you out of the car before opening the passenger door behind the driver’s, reeling out a blanket and a basket full of delicious looking food, fruits and two bottles of wine.

“How romantic.” You giggle and hear your stomach grumble, letting you know it hadn’t forgotten about the lack of food since the pancakes earlier in the morning. You almost moan out at the sight of ripe strawberries, raspberries and blueberries. “A picnic?”

“Come on,” he says as he makes his way toward a small spot behind some trees that has the perfect amount of shade while it still overlooks the water of the lake. From the place where you’re standing, you can’t make out how big it is. You follow him and almost throw yourself on the blanket the moment he’s laid it on the grass.

You’re happy that it’s grass you’re on top of - you hate having sand in between your toes, no matter how much you love the beach and walking barefoot. You smile as he places the basket in the middle of the blanket before sitting down on the other side of it, facing you.

“Don’t know how long I can sit on the ground. I am an old man, after all.” He says as he picks the wine out of the basket, wringing it open. You really like the whole screw-lid invention. It’s so much easier.

“From the things I’ve experienced, you’re definitely… Young by heart.” You giggle before reaching into the basket to pick out a strawberry. You hold his gaze as you push the red berry past your lips, biting through the fruit. You giggle when you feel some of the juice trail down your chin and watch his movements as he quickly wipes your chin with his fingers.

“Thank you, Javi.” You smile before chewing through the berry, very much enjoying the way he sucks the juice off of his fingers, and the way he looks at you while doing so. You watch as he pours two glasses of the wine before he extends one glass toward you. You take it and happily take a sip.

“You know, I actually didn’t take you for the romantic type,” You say as you both fill your mouths with fruit. “But this is pretty damn romantic in my opinion.” You let out a laugh when he shrugs his shoulders, letting you know you were probably somewhat right.

“Guess I’d have to be a tiny bit romantic seeing I just made you come in the driver’s seat of my car.” The way he says it so shamelessly amazes you. He says it like the most natural thing in the world - bringing a stranger he met yesterday to an orgasm in his car on their second date. This was a date, wasn’t it?

“I mean, if you wanna call it a date, then it’s alright with me.” He says and you furrow your brows before you realize you’d actually said it out loud. Asked him if it was a date. Oh my god. You mentally slap yourself as you let out a small laugh, before nodding.

“Alright. A date with the most interesting man I’ve ever met.” You say as you raise your class for him to cheer with you. “I know this summer is going to be unforgettable.” You say as the rim of his glass meets yours, making you both smile at each other.

The hours, like yesterday, pass by like you’ve known each other for a lifetime. You’re both telling each other even more details about yourselves that hadn’t surfaced the day before. Before you know it, the sun is setting, and you’ve found your way into Javi’s embrace. It feels like you belong there - like his arms were made for holding you.

“Is it safe to swim in the water?” you whisper as you watch the sun descend on the sky. You bite your lip at the thought of skinny dipping with a man watching you, maybe even joining you.

“In el Embalse de San Rafael?” he moves his body slightly to look down at you, and he watches you as you nod. “Yeah, it is.” He feels his heart pick up the pace as he thinks about seeing you in nothing but your underwear. Or the bikini, which he’d seen you in earlier. Then it dawns on him that you probably hadn’t brought it along, which left the only possibility… you being naked.

If you do decide to strip, he knows he’s definitely not going to be able to keep his hands to himself. There’s so much sexual tension between the two of you, he’s constantly semi-hard in his pants and thinking about what messes the two of you could create together. On the other hand, he knows that you haven’t been with anyone yet, and it makes him reluctant to just do anything with you.

The whole thing the two of you had done in his car had been completely on autopilot on his behalf, and it only dawned on him what he’d done to you after he’d felt you orgasm against him. He almost felt bad about getting you off, but then he’d seen the blissed-out expression on your face.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t even noticed you shimmying out of his arms, discarding your summer dress and gliding your panties down your legs before his eyes are glued to the swell of your ass, moving as you slowly tread out into the water.

He feels his heart going through many if not all emotions right at that moment. He watches as you turn your body slightly, waving to him, encouraging him to follow you into the water. He gulps down a lump that has formed in his throat as he watches your body slowly disappear under the water, before he stands up and hurriedly pulls off his clothes, one item at a time.

He contemplates on keeping his boxer briefs on, but quickly decides to discard them along with the rest of his clothes. He notices you’re giving him privacy, as you’re facing away from him, and he silently appreciates it. It’s been a long while since he’s been this kind of intimate with a woman, and boy if he doesn’t feel some kind of nervous.

As he walks toward the edge of the water, he thinks over the last time he actually took his time in appreciating a woman. Not just pleasuring her - actually appreciating her. Sure, he appreciated some of his informants’ readiness in sleeping with him and satisfying his need, but he didn’t spare them much more than that. He kind of felt like a dick about it, now he thought of it.

Before he could think more about it, his hips had become engulfed within the water, and he was close, so close, to you. If he reached out, he was touching your shoulder. He admired the way the water dripped from your hair onto your shoulder as you took in the view in front of you, getting just as lost in your thoughts as he had been in his.

He slowly submerges himself in the water behind you, and he’s sure you know he’s right behind you. His arms come around your middle, pulling your back into his chest. You giggle when you feel his mustache tickle its way over your shoulder, his warm breath turning cold against your wet skin.

You feel his hands slowly, timidly, explore the front of your body, and you extend your torso slowly from the crumpled-up position you’d been sitting in. His hands slide opposite of each other, one up and one down as he places one hand on your hip and the other just under the swell of your breast.

You moan lightly at the contact, his touch once again alighting something inside of you. His thumb grazes the underside of your breast just under your nipple, and it makes you suck in a deep breath. It’s the first time someone has ever touched your chest, and it feels so damn good. Then he’s gingerly rolling your nipple between his fingers, making you whimper out - and it’s almost not possible that it feels even better. But it does.

You lay your head back against his shoulder as the hand on your hip travels further down and in between your legs. You tug your lip in between your teeth as his lips continue their assault on your neck and shoulder. You feel his fingers experimentally moving in between your folds, rough pads gliding over the very delicate lips of your pussy.

“This okay?” he whispers in your ear as his hold on you tightens, drawing you closer to his body. You feel the evidence of the effect you have on him as his erection presses into the small of your back, making you moan even more wantonly.

“Yes, god Javi, touch me.” You whimper out as his fingers drag through your folds once, twice, three times before he languidly dips just the tip of his finger into your wet core. It feels amazing when you do it yourself, but when Javi does it - it feels way better. Like he knows just the depth of where your most sensitive parts are, as pushes his finger in further, finding it in an instant.

Your hand finds his arm and you tighten your hand on top of the muscle, squeezing your eyes shut as he sucks over your pulse point. You’re left breathless by so little, and it makes you wonder just how little he needs to do to ruin you completely. It isn’t going to take much for him to take you apart.

Another finger dips into your core and you moan out again as he slowly works you open. His mouth is tugging your earlobe into its heat, and it feels like you’re going to lose yourself into pleasure. Your mind is spiraling into a haze as he thrusts his fingers into you, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your bundle of nerves while his fingers are still pulling and twisting your nipple.

You let out a deep, guttural moan as he curls his fingers just right inside of you, making stars appear before your eyes. Your free hand makes its way into Javi’s unruly locks, the wet digits tangling with his dry hair. You feel yourself on the edge of going absolutely feral, simply wanting to turn around and absolutely ravish the man behind you. You want to lay him against the sand of the shore and ride him senseless.

You let go in his arms, relishing in the fact that he’s bringing you pleasure so easily. You clench around his fingers as he holds you close, your cunt milking his fingers, silently wishing it was his cock. You knew it would probably take some getting used to - having something as big as the thing you so obviously felt against your back inside you.

You were certainly going to find out if you could though, and just how much of him you could fit inside of you. Maybe not right now, but sometime later, that was for sure. Your chest is still calming down from your high and Javi’s arms are still keeping you anchored to the ground. You were sure that you were going to ascend into heaven at one point during your orgasm.

His arms are warm around you in the cold water, but it still makes you shiver lightly. You wring out of his hold, turning to face him before you’re kissing him intently, bringing both of your wet hands into his hair this time, pulling his front close to yours. You feel him nudge against your stomach and you smile against his lips, before you hum slightly.

His arms come around you yet again - or rather his hands come around you to grasp the flesh of your ass. He moans into your mouth as you move your body against his sensually, wanting to repay the favor. He doesn’t let you, though, because he’s pulling away from you shortly after.

“Come on. You’re shivering.” He says as he finds your hand under the surface of the water, pulling you by the hand to the shore. On the way there, you get to admire the muscles of his ass - the way he carried himself made something clench in your pelvis, even though he’d just given you an orgasm. Were you already ready for round… 3?

The angry, red wound on his shoulder reminds you just what kind of a man he was. You wondered how long it had been since he had been shot - the wound looked partially healed, and there was just the slightest scab over it. You didn’t know much about gunshot wounds, but it appeared that he was shot from the front. You wondered if it had gone right through. It looked like it.

You caught yourself getting lost in thoughts about the kind of people he chased - if he chased people - that could leave him with a wound like that. You decided you were going to ask him about it, when you felt the time was right. For now, you let your eyes wander again.

Back on land, you’re still admiring his body, and you’re admiring him very shamelessly. It was like he brought out the worst in you - an untamable, aroused demon. You hadn’t ever eaten someone up with your eyes like you were currently watching Javi. You knew he felt your eyes on him, but you weren’t sure how he was handling it.

You tilted your head as he brought his boxer briefs up his legs to cover his ass and shield his crotch from you. You reluctantly walked over to your own clothes, also pulling your panties back on with your back turned to Javi.

There was that awkwardness again… you sigh as you pull your dress back on, the wetness of your body making the fabric stick to your skin uncomfortably. The dress clings to the back of your thighs as you tie the band behind your neck, and just then, you realize how much the temperature has actually dropped, simultaneously with the sun setting.

Even though it was still warm, you were sure the temperature had dropped more than a few degrees. The goosebumps that rise on your skin this time are from the coldness of the air around you, as you make your way back to the blanket you were previously sitting on, looking through the basket to find the next thing you were filling your grumbling stomach with.

You slightly ignore Javi as he sits down beside you, feeling kind of mad at him for acting the way he did. How did he just take you on a romantic date by a lake, proceed to give you an orgasm while you both were stark naked in the lake, care enough to get you out of the water because he could feel you were cold, and then go on to blankly ignoring you while he got dressed?

“So, I was thinking we could go somewhere to eat, if you’re hungry. I was thinking maybe I could treat you to some empanadas and a beer?” You almost rolled your eyes at him but caught yourself before you could actually do it. You let out a deep exhale, not really knowing how to handle the situation unfolding.

On one hand, you were starving for something that wasn’t wine and fruit. Empanadas and cheap beer sounded so perfect, and you silently cursed Javi to hell for being so thoughtful and yet so resistant. You kind of hated him for not taking advantage of you. It sounds weird, saying it that way, but you really did wish he wouldn’t hold back with you. You didn’t really think further before the words had already left your mouth.

“Is there something wrong with me, Javi?” you say with so much uncertainty it takes him aback. Where the sudden doubt from you had come from, he had no idea. You appeared to be so sure of what you wanted - so sure of yourself. And yet here you were, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

He understood why you felt that way, though. He didn’t feel good about why you possibly felt this way, but he just couldn’t bring himself to let go with you. He didn’t want to selfishly take advantage of you, even though he desperately wanted to feel you clench and come around him. He wanted to feel the warmth of your cunt, and the warmth of having you close - closer than he’d already had you.

“Hermosa, no.” He speaks as he quickly draws you into his arms, pulling your trembling body back into his warmth. Why was he so damn warm all the time? You hated yourself for the way your body so easily relaxed into his body, calming you down in an instant.

“There must be something wrong with me. Why don’t you want me?” you whisper as he’s peppering kisses into your damp hair, his hands sliding up and down the length of your arms. It feels so good, being right there in his arms. The tremble in your body has been turned down to nothing more than a little shiver, and you feel yourself relaxing into his chest.

“Trust me, hermosa, I want you so much it hurts.” It felt weird, putting it into words like that, but it was the truth. It wasn’t just in the way his cock ached to find solace within your heat - no it was so much more than that, and it scared him more than anything had ever done before. He didn’t even feel this way about his ex-fiancée.

“I want it to be perfect for you. But I’m scared, hermosa. Scared I’m going to hurt you. Scared that I’m not right for you, hell, even good enough for you. I want you to have the best. And I’m not the best.” He speaks as he looks out into the mountains on the opposite side of the lake, that mountain ridge separating the two of you from the bustling life of Bogotá.

It was easier to say it to you, when he wasn’t looking at you. He felt so bad about turning you down again and again, even though he knew you would come onto him again and again. He was afraid you were going to change your mind about him, hell, he was afraid he was going to change his mind about you.

His head and heart were going a thousand miles an hour. It’d been so long since he’d been honest with someone in this way. Not even Connie, not even Steve. Not even his informants. You just had that effect on him. Wanting to open up to someone.

“Javi…” you finally speak, and he closes his eyes, awaiting your next words. He feels as you wiggle out of his arms, before he feels your legs straddling his, your hands sliding up his arms before coming to a rest on his shoulder and his neck. He feels you press a gentle kiss to his lips, before he finally lets his hands come up to rest on your hips.

“You could never hurt me. At least I don’t have the imagination to think of why you would hurt me. Everything I’ve experienced with you has been absolutely amazing.” Your fingers are rubbing soft circles into the nape of his neck, and he feels the tension leaving his body slowly.

“Javi, I want to do this with you. I want you to give me an unforgettable summer. And I know you can do just that.” You lean in and place another kiss against his lips, this time feeling the reciprocation of his lips against yours. “I want it to be you. I want to give myself to you.” You breathe against his lips, making goosebumps rise on his arms at your words.

His mind is imagining so many things as the warmth of your inner thighs spreads over his hips, seeping into his hips and straight into his groin. He’s imagining other women with your face on them, how he would fuck them into senselessness in indescribable positions, bringing them undeniable pleasure.

Yet he can’t bring himself to act on his feelings and desires just yet. He knows you’re going to be saddened by him turning you down yet again, but with this rejection, he also knows that he is going to give into you, sooner or later. You just had to wait.

“Okay, hermosa.” He says against your lips, before capturing them in another kiss. “But not yet. Not today.” His hands are working over your ass, massaging the soft flesh with his rough hands. It draws yet another wet patch into your panties, joining the dried one already left there.

“If I’m going to have sex with you, I’m gonna be doing it in a proper bed.” You giggle at his words, just the thought of the two of you coming together as one alighting your nerve endings. “But right now, I think we both need to eat something.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

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#javier peña #Javier Pena #javier peña x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier peña x you #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n

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kythed · 4 years

Text

cold war

semi eita x reader

synopsis: how many degrees does it take to melt semi eita? (ficmas day 2!)

“Why would you ever apply for a job at an ice rink,” he says, tone thickly frosted with annoyance, “if you can’t even skate?”

You blink up at your co-worker from the ice, the seat of your pants growing uncomfortably damp. Giggling children and lovesick couples glide by, all far more proficient skaters than you are. You offer the boy standing above you sheepish smile. “It just pays better than babysitting, I guess.”

He doesn’t laugh, just exhales heavily through his nose and hoists you up by the forearm with an unnecessarily harsh grip.

“Ouch,” you say indignantly, but the complaint dies on your lips when he shoots you a glare steely enough to slice through marble. Though the obvious irritation clouding his angular features renders you unable to fully appreciate his good looks, he’s the definition of severe beauty, all fair tousled hair and slate grey eyes.

“Learn how. Or else.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and effortlessly skates away to go rescue a toddler hanging onto the edge of the rink, crying for her mother. You watch as he lifts her up gently and sets her on her feet with an affectionate pat on the head. Then, almost as if he can feel you staring, he whips around and narrows his eyes with an expression that sends a chill down your spine.

You frown, but the pout swiftly turns into a scheming smile.

Semi Eita is cold. But not so cold he can’t be melted.

Operation Melt Semi starts small. The next day, you get to the rink early and wait for him to arrive. When he walks through the door, shrugging off his heavy parka, you sidle up to him and offer him a cheery “Morning, Semi!” along with a beaming grin.

“Morning,” he says, not even sparing you a glance as he ducks into the men’s lockers. Your face falls. Damn it. This might be a little harder than you’d previously anticipated.

You try again that Friday when you catch him in the coat room while you’re both sitting on the bench and changing into your skates. He knots his laces almost aggressively, pulling them so tight they cut angry red lines across his palms.

“Your hair looks good like that,” you say tentatively. It’s parted down the middle today, and it really does suit him. “Very nineties.”

Semi gives you an incredulous look before briefly glancing into a reflective window. He turns back, reaches into his pocket, and unwraps a piece of gum without offering you one. You bristle with annoyance but keep the sunny smile plastered across your face-- your cheeks are beginning to numb.

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Um, yeah, kinda.” You cringe inwardly when your voice cracks.

“Gross,” he says, jumping up and leaving you to struggle with your laces. You sigh and slump down. Bastard.

On Saturday, however, and every day you see him after that, he has his hair parted down the middle. He doesn’t mention it again, and neither do you, but you do feel a small sense of victory every time he runs a careful hand through his silvery locks, setting them in place after lapping the rink.

A couple weeks later, you’ve just gotten off your morning shift, a little bruised and battered (both physically and emotionally). Semi had still been forced to save you from the cruel, slippery ice a couple times, of course, so you’d taken the opportunity to thank him profusely, and you swear you saw the corners of his mouth twitch as he pulled you up once. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“Hey,” you say, poking your head into the break room. Semi and a couple of other rink attendants look up from their phones. “Anyone want a coffee? I’m gonna make a run to the nearest Starbucks for a latte.”

“No,” Semi says automatically, face blank, and you roll your eyes internally. Of course he’d decline. As your other co-workers rattle off their orders (one small caramel mocha, one earl grey tea), you resolve to buy him a drink anyways.

If I were an annoyingly attractive asshole, you muse, squinting your eyes at the Starbucks menu ten minutes later, what would I order?

When you return to the rink, breathless and bearing a heavily laden, flimsy cardboard tray, you thrust a steaming paper cup of coffee into Semi’s hand. He stares at you, face painted with something resembling surprise.

“I said I didn’t want anything,” he says, taking the lid off to skeptically peer inside. He glances up at you.“Is this a blonde roast?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously. It’s all you can do to keep the smug grin off your face as Semi inhales the mellow, milky bitterness, letting the steam curl onto his face in the cold ice rink air.

“How did you kno--”

“I could just tell,” you hum, plopping down on the couch as you take a long drink of your own latte. The vanilla syrup generously pumped inside is almost as sweetly gratifying as the bewildered expression on Semi’s face. He just shakes his head, still staring at the cup in his hand.

“Well, how much was it? I’m paying you back.”

“It’s on me,” you say casually, smiling serenely at the way his mouth opens and closes like a shocked goldfish. “Don’t worry about it.”

Semi doesn’t respond as he sets the coffee down on the table, but later you see him sipping on it while he plays some little puzzle game on his phone. Mission accomplished.

You’re the last one to leave the rink that day, so you lock up and double check each door before skipping into the coat room to grab your bag. The fluorescent lights flicker sporadically, casting an artificial lightning over the benches. As you reach for the bag, squinting, you catch a little yellow post-it sticking out from its smallest pocket.

Thanks, it reads, messy script scrawled in blue ink. Folded beneath it is a slightly wrinkled five dollar bill.

Despite yourself, a small smile spreads across your face. The thawing has begun.

It’s an uphill journey, of course, but with each victorious battle you inch a little closer to winning the war. Semi isn’t invincible, and the cracks in his icy facade are beginning to show.

He’s a little more patient, a little more understanding. His small gestures betray his hand as he shows you how to angle your skates to stop on the ice, as he gives you a pack of tissues when you have a runny nose. He still manages to sneak in an eye roll or snide side comment, of course-- “Seriously, you can’t even brake? You’re hopeless,” or “You shouldn’t have come into work today if you’re sick. You’ll pass all your germs to me.” But still, it’s baby steps, you remind yourself, clutching onto his arm as you come to a grinding halt on the ice, snatching the tissues from his hand with a pained smile and a forced “Thanks, Semi.”

One day, you have to take a shift immediately after leaving a family friend’s wedding. It had been a lovely ceremony (with really, really good chocolate cake), but you hadn’t had time to change into work clothes, so you find yourself rushing through the doors still wearing a cocktail dress and heels, tugging your backpack onto your shoulder and praying your manager doesn’t notice you’re a few minutes late.

Semi is at the counter cleaning a pair of skates, meticulously wiping the blades dry. His phone rests beside him, some sort of pulsing electropop trickling softly from its speakers. He’s nodding his head slightly, keeping pace with the rhythm, and his face is calm, devoid of the irritation you’ve grown so familiar with.

You clear your throat. “Uh, hey.”

Semi looks up, and for a moment, time stops. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing painfully in his throat as his gaze shakily makes its way down from the tops of your bare shoulders, to your exposed neckline, to the skirt swishing just above your knees. The dress is a soft pink chiffon, more delicate and feminine than anything you’d ever worn into work.

There’s a sudden heat, a jolt in the pit of your stomach as he meets your eyes again, and you swear he feels it too. It seems as though the temperature in the rink has instantaneously risen twenty degrees-- you think you might start sweating.

“You look…” Semi breathes, but then he stops himself, choking down whatever his next words might’ve been. He furrows his brows and tears his stare away, looking back down at the forgotten skates.

There’s a brief beat of silence, dappled with only the occasional child’s shriek of joy from on the ice.

“You’d better get changed,” he says finally, pointedly looking anywhere but you.

“Okay,” you say, unable to come up with anything more sophisticated. Your mind is empty of anything but the memory of those cold grey eyes growing suddenly hot, gazing into yours with a warmth of indescribable magnitude. As you slowly walk into the womens’ lockers, something dawns on you. There might be a different way to melt the ice prince.

Work is different, after that. Your days are no longer characterized by torment, by rude jabs and scowls from Semi that poke at you right where you’re sore. Instead, they’re not-so-subtly woven with lingering glances, with “accidental” touches at just the right moment to send an unwanted shudder to the very tips of your fingers and toes.

Once, when you’re working the counter, fitting customers and renting out skates, Semi skids off the ice with a spray of snow and clinks his way over to you, blades meeting the tile floor metallically.

“I’m gonna change these out for a different pair,” he tells you, and you nod, acutely aware of his close proximity. As he slips behind you, he touches your lower back lightly, just enough so you know he’s there. A breath catches in your throat when his fingers linger just a little longer than necessary, leaving their imprints burning on your skin, even through the thick fabric of your sweater.

He doesn’t look at you when he comes back out, but the back of his neck is flushed pink. You catch a whiff of his cologne-- it’s woody and spicy, comforting like a distant childhood memory. You fight the sudden impulse to launch yourself into his arms and bury your face in his hair, inhaling that holiday-esque scent.

No, no, no, you scold yourself as you watch him slide back onto the ice. Not Semi Eita. Anyone but Semi Eita.

You’d set out to make peace with him, to make work life a little more bearable for the both of you. You hadn’t expected yourself to start looking forward to seeing him each day, to have your chest constrict, the air crushed from your lungs like a soda can underfoot every time he looked your way. All you’d wanted to do was melt his icy exterior-- not let yourself get scalded by his heat.

A week later, when you enter the rink, there’s an impossibly tall redhead leering over Semi, who’s idly filling in a timetable on the front counter. He’s chattering away in a lilting, sing-songy tone while Semi pays him exactly zero attention.

“--but the last episode was really of pristine quality, you know? None of that filler crap, just great writing, excellent animation, and-- oooooh.” When ginger giant notices you, a joker-like grin stretches across his face. “And who’s this?”

“I--”

“She’s nobody,” Semi cuts in, slamming the timetable shut and jumping over the counter. He glares up at his friend, looking a bit like a disgruntled house cat attempting to bully a tiger. “I think it’s about time for you to get going.”

The friend ignores Semi’s attempt at intimidation, instead turning his attention to you. He takes your hand in a way that makes it unclear whether or not he’s about to shake it or kiss it. You stifle a giggle. “Well, hello, ‘Nobody.’ Pretty name. My name’s Tendou Satori, but you can call me--”

Semi cuts him off with a sharp jab to the ribs and Tendou doubles over in pain, clutching his stomach overdramatically. “Not her.”

“Ouch, Semi-Semi,” Tendou gasps, though a few stray giggles escape with his theatrics. He glances at Semi, then to you, then back to him, apparently having some sort of silent epiphany. His face lights up as gleefully as a kid’s on Christmas morning. “Wait… is this the girl you’re always ta--”

Semi jabs him again, harder this time, and Tendou yelps, stumbling backwards. You cringe as he knocks over a stack of ice walkers— as entertaining as this squabble is, you’ll be the one to clean up the mess. Then Semi stalks over and drags him back by the wrist with the rough swagger of a sheriff arresting the town’s most wanted. He glowers at Tendou, face dark as a thunderstorm. “Tendou, I swear to God, if you so much say another word I will strangle you with my bare hands.”

“Never knew you were so kinky, Semi-Semi!” Tendou preemptively dodges any possible counterattack and turns to you, punctuating his next phrase with a wink: “Have fun with that.”

Later, once Semi has successfully ushered Tendou out the door, you turn to him, eyebrow raised. “What did he mean by ‘have fun with that,’ Eita?”

“Nothing,” Semi says, though his guarded tone leads you to suspect otherwise. He offers you a piece of gum before taking one himself and slipping the sleeve back into his bag. “He’s just like that. Also, since when have we been on a first name basis?”

You blush. You hadn’t even realized you’d called him by his first name. Then you smile a little, popping the gum into your mouth and folding the wrapper into a neat little square. “If you’d prefer, I could call you Semi-Semi as well.”

Semi pales, presumably watching as a vision of his life tormented by two Tendous flashes before his eyes. Then he looks back to you and clears his throat. “Eita is fine.”

As you go about your day, robotically hooking skates back on the shelf, wiping down the snack bar tables, stacking chair, and shivering the whole time, what Tendou was about to say rings in your ears: Are you the girl he’s always talking about?

You can’t help but wonder what exactly Semi says about you.

It’s a Saturday evening when you approach Semi to ask for a skating lesson.

“Please,” you say, trailing him around the edges of the rink like a lost puppy. He’s picking up stray bits of trash from beneath the benches— sticky pieces of candy wrappers and cigarette butts left behind by unconscientious skaters. “I just want to stop falling so often-- it’s embarrassing.”

“Yeah, it is embarrassing,” Semi says, suddenly standing upright and turning to face you. He leans close, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a sly half smile. “Sucks to suck.”

“Eita,” you say again, reaching out to tug the edge of his sleeve. He glances at your fingers tightly clutching the thick wool of his sweater and then back up to you. You put on your best pleading pout. “Come on, just for tonight? Just like an hour on the ice, tops.”

“I don’t know,” he says slowly. He glances at his watch and sighs. “I have to get home by nine… I guess we can stay for an hour. But only an hour.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

“Thanks, Semi-Semi,” you say with a grin, and he scowls.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Too bad.”

Semi is a surprisingly good teacher. He pokes fun at you, of course, mocking the way you cling to him when he tries to teach you to skate in a circle, or the way you clumsily flail your arms to keep your balance, but he’s patient. He’s gentle when he corrects your form, when he offers you a hand with which to pull yourself up.

It’s only the two of you now, twenty minutes after closing time. All the lights in the rink are off but the large one directly overhead, a spotlight that illuminates the pale, glassy expanse of the ice. The scrape of your blades over the ice echoes throughout the rink as Semi holds your waist lightly, trying to guide you backwards.

“I don’t understand,” you complain, shuffling backwards and trying your hardest to avoid stepping on Semi’s skates. “If I need to go the other direction, I can just turn around, can’t I?”

“Nuh-uh,” he says, tightening his grip on your waist as you wobble slightly. “Saves time. Just keep your toe pointed inwards and move your skates in curves. It’s not that hard.”

“It’s not that hard,” you say, imitating him in a squeaky, high pitched tone.

You hear him snort behind you. “That’s not what I sound like.”

“That’s exactly what you sound like,” you say, looking down at your feet. Toes in. Skates move in curves. “Hey, wait, am I doing it right?”

You glide backwards, slowly, hesitantly. Semi moves with you, hands still hovering at your sides just in case. “Almost. Bend your knees a little, that’ll make it easier to balance.”

“Oh, okay. I-- shit!”

In an entirely ungraceful lurching movement, you lose your balance, grabbing Semi’s wrist in a futile attempt to remain upright. The next moment unfolds in slow motion as you fall backwards, pulling a horrified, wide-eyed Semi on top of you as your back hits the ice, his entire body sprawled over your smaller frame.

You lay in stunned silence for a second, feeling your spine throb and the cold of the ice already beginning to seep through your clothes. Semi’s face is inches from yours-- his breath smells like the spearmint gum he’s always chewing, and, for the first time, you notice subtle green flecks in his grey eyes.

“Sorry,” you finally whisper, staring at him. “I didn’t mean to.”

He doesn’t shift himself off of you, just stares back at you with furrowed brows. Almost imperceptibly, his gaze flicks down to your lips and back up again. Your breath catches in your throat-- but then a wide, bright grin breaks across his face, and it’s like the sun, brilliantly slicing through a gloomy mass of storm clouds with its sharp golden rays.

“You-- you’re-- you’re such a shit skater,” he chokes out between guffaws. You can feel his chest heaving with each laugh, and an angry flush crawls over your cheeks.

“It wasn’t my fault!” you protest, attempting to shove him off of you. He doesn’t budge. “You weren’t giving me enough space to move!”

“You should’ve seen your face,” he says, dramatically wiping an invisible tear from his eye. “God, it was so funny.”

“Well, sorry I’m not as good at skating as you are, Mr. I Do Everything Perfectly The First Time,” you scoff, again trying to push him off. Semi cocks an eyebrow and smirks, settling his forearms on either side of your head. Your heart beats erratically at his nearness. “And can you please move? You’re crushing my lungs.”

“Nope.”

You scowl. The repressed irritation from weeks and weeks of trying to get on his good side strains at the boundaries of your self control. “Get off, Semi.”

“Make me.” His eyes gleam with silent laughter as you struggle for a moment, unable to do anything more than wiggle beneath him.

You huff, resting your head back down on the ice in defeat. “You’re fucking heavy, Eita. What did you do before this, eat a buffet out of business?”

Semi chuckles, and it’s a low, raspy sound that vibrates in your chest. He leans in close, angling his face slightly. His lips hover just above yours, and you can feel his breath fan over your mouth with his next words: “You’re so damn annoying.”

There’s a beat of silence. A heavy, stifling tension hangs in the air, a live wire with crackling electricity dancing across its taut line. You stare at him, unblinking. Daring him to do something.

And then he’s kissing you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other slipping under your shoulders to pull you flush against his chest. He kisses you hungrily, recklessly, like he’s been fasting and your lips are the first food he’s seen for months. You grip the back of his sweater as you kiss him back, fingers clutching at the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. He tastes like mint and something sweet; it’s messy, there’s tongue and teeth, and your jeans are wet from the ice— but at that moment, you think you’ve never been kissed better. A warmth spreads from his lips to yours, making its way down your throat into deep within your chest, where it burns your lungs and throbs almost painfully.

Though Semi Eita may be cold, his kisses are anything but.

When you break away he’s in quite the state, breathless with a flushed face and disheveled hair. You must look much the same, you think as you inhale deeply, blinking away the stars behind your eyes.

He sits up, resting on your hips. “Well, then.”

“Well, then,” you echo, propping yourself up on your forearms.

“You’re a shit kisser, too.” Semi grins when you gasp and punch him in the arm. You open your mouth to fire back, but before you can get a word out he leans down quick and kisses you again, soft and light. “It’s okay. We can practice.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“How generous of you.” You try to sound sarcastic but the words fall flat under Semi’s gaze. He smiles again and clambers onto his feet, offering you a hand.

“You wanna get dinner or something?”

You hold his hand on the walk out to his car, too, fingers tightly interlocked. He hums something under his breath, squeezing your palm every so often.

It’s freezing outside. As Semi fumbles with his keys, you rub your arms, trying in vain to brush away the stubborn goosebumps.

When you climb into the passenger seat, Semi lets you choose the radio station and, before he pulls out of the lot, he silently taps his cheek for a kiss. You roll your eyes but nonetheless lean over to give him a quick peck.

“Thanks,” he says, putting an arm over the back of your seat to pull out of the space. A slow acoustic song comes on, reminiscent of thick woolen blankets and cheerfully flickering flames.

The cold war is over, and you’re not quite sure who melted who.

“Mhm,” you hum. Semi offers you his upturned palm without taking his eyes of the road, so you slip your hand into his, enjoying the way his fingers envelop yours. There’s a light winter rain outside, washing away any remnants of frost on windowpanes and waterpipes.

But, frankly, you don’t really care.

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#semi eita x reader #semi eita #semi eita headcanons #semi eita imagines #semi eita x you

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val-aquenta · 3 years

Text

Last day of Mace Windu Appreciation Week! The prompt: Freeform.

Here on ao3

A little fluffy moment betwen Knight Mace WIndu and Youngling Obi-Wan Kenobi. Thank you all for reading!

Mace had never meant to return to the Temple yet. As a new knight, he was meant to be out and about on missions, resettling into the sway of travelling without a Master, yet here he was. Staring down at a young child who was looking rather tearful. He knelt quickly, one hand lingering on his knee. The boy was red in his face and looked, in Mace’s opinion, positively adorable. “Forgive me, young one, I did not see you there.” There was a soft sniffle and the boy rubbed his face before looking back up, his expressions more in control. He smiled, “There you are. Now, did I hurt you?”

The boy shakes his head, looking at his hands. Oh my Force, he’s so tiny. His hands! Mace thinks watching as the boy stands up and looks up at him. “No, Master…”

Mace gently shakes his head, “I’m a knight, young one, not a Master yet. My name is Mace Windu. What’s yours?” Mace prompts.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.” The boy, Obi-Wan shifts slightly, looking around before turning and looking back at Mace.

“Do you have anywhere you’re supposed to be?” He asks, head tilting slightly to the side.

Obi-Wan looks at him with a soft smile. “Yes? But… Bant left me behind on accident, so I… I think I’m lost.” The boy’s face scrunches up in confusion. “I’ve just been walking around…”

“And managed to get into the closed-off section?” Mace hums. He stands up. “If you would like, I can take you back to the creche?” Obi-Wan nods, stepping closer to Mace and reaching out to tug on his fingers.

“Do you think Master Dolan will be angry?” Earnest eyes raised at him. He swears there’s a little sparkle in those eyes.

“I think he's likely worried, Obi-Wan.” Mace looks around for a second and then begins leading the way out of the closed sector of the Temple. Back when there were more Jedi, these rooms would have been used, but now that their populations dwindled entire sections were closed off as keeping them running simply became too costly for the meagre funds the Republic sent their way. He looks down at Obi-Wan, consciously slowing his pace so that the child can keep up comfortably. Obi-Wan is quiet, remarkably so. His steps are soft little pads on the stone floor. There is a light humming coming from his companion. A song from the creche, he recalls quickly.

“Knight Windu, how old are you?” Mace raises his brows at Obi-Wan who flushes. “I-I’m sorry Master, you don’t have to answer.”

“Not to worry, Obi-Wan. I don’t mind, but take note that many other beings do mind.” Obi-Wan nods. “I’m 22.”

There is a pause before the boy murmurs, “15?” Mace looks down at the boy in confusion, sending a small pulse into the Force. Obi-Wan looks up and startles a little. “Oh… 15 years difference. Between you and me.”

“So you’re… 7?” Obi-Wan nods, seeming very proud of his age. “Very old, huh?”

“Master Dolan says that soon I’ll be able to get my own crystal to build my sabre, though the power will have to be re,” Obi-Wan pauses to suck in a short breath, “regulated. Is your lightsaber regulated, Knight Windu?”

“Sometimes. If I’m sparring with friends for example. Or teaching young 7-year-olds.” He smiles gently, indicating the boy to turn left. “Here we are, just a little bit more.”

“Can I see? Please?” Obi-Wan looks at him. “What colour is it? And what about your hilt design. I’m not sure what I’d want from my hilt, or my regulator or anything, but Master Dolan says that I’ll know when the Force wills it. Did the Force tell you about your sabre, Knight Windu?” Mace blinks, a little shocked before a smile tugs the corners of his lips up.

“I suppose it did.” He hums thoughtfully. “I had a plan, I suppose, a vague idea of what I wanted the hilt to be made of, the approximate size, the feel of it in my hand, but I had no idea how it would actually look until I made it.” He unclips his sabre, showing the general size and shape. “And the colour of the blade? Now that was a surprise.” Leaning away he thumbs it on, the purple hilt bursting forth with a comforting hum. Obi-Wan’s eyes are wide as plates, shining in the purple light. Mace thumbs it off after a moment, clipping it onto his belt. “But, perhaps you will have a different experience. Shaak, that is Knight Ti, she had a pretty detailed diagram of her lightsaber, though she tweaked it a little when she built it.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen purple. Why is it purple?” Obi-Wan shuffles closer, looking up at him. “I’ve seen all kinds of colours between green and blue and yellow and orange and I think I saw a white blade once, but I’m not sure. I was really small. But I’ve never seen purple.”

“I don’t know why it’s purple. It simply is.” Obi-Wan, if possible, looked even more enthralled. “And you? What blade do you think you will have?”

“Well… when I have visions, I see different blades all the time. Sometimes they’re all black and rough while sometimes they’re gold and silver. Master Yoda says that it's because there are so many futures and I see different ones.” He pauses for a moment. “I do want a type three aurek silver hilt, though. They feel right.”

“Uh-huh.” Mace smiles. The young boy is truly endearing with the way he talks at such a rapid speed, stopping quickly for breaths and breaks. “Oh… we’re almost here. Do you know where you are meant to be?”

Obi-Wan looks up at him. “Well… Master Dolan said we were going to go to visit the archives.” He paused for a moment, hand fiddling with the edge of his sleeve before Obi-Wan looked up. “I don’t know where it is, though.” Mace blinked and smiled softly, projecting a soft reassurance, something that he recalled his creche master doing whenever he was overwhelmed by something.

“It is no problem, Obi-Wan. I can take you to the archives, and we’ll find Master Dolan together, alright?” He reaches down and offers his hand.

“Are you… sure?” He speaks with hesitation layering his voice. “I mean, Master Dolan says that Jedi are busy. Aren’t you busy?” Nevertheless, Obi-Wan reaches out and places his small hand in Mace’s trotting along beside Mace as they walk towards the archives.

“I’m on a break,” Mace admits, smiling at a friend who gives them a strange look before shrugging and hurrying along. The pack on their shoulder indicates a new mission.

Obi-Wan goes through the information before nodding seriously. “Master Aliya says that it’s important to have breaks during difficult tasks to not burnout.” The young boy lets out a huff before continuing, “I guess it makes sense you’re resting.” Mace almost wants to laugh, but he fears that the endearingly serious face would lift off of Obi-Wan’s face.

“I would hope it does,” he offers seriously instead, squeezing Obi-Wan’s hand as they turn a corner almost running right into Master Rancisis. They manage to sidestep, getting a humoured look from the old Master before he slithers down the hallway. They’re almost there, and Mace feels strangely sad about it. The youngling had managed to burrow his way into his heart easily. Kira would say that most things manage to burrow their way into his heart, but he thinks even she would have problems saying no to Obi-Wan’s large eyes. “We’re almost here.”

Obi-Wan perks up, studying the hallway intently, wanting to memorise the route. “Master Yoda told us that the archives are one of the best-kept databases in the Republic. Have you ever seen another like it?” Mace thinks of the seemingly endless rows of blue holos as well as the flimsi copies kept in a more controlled environment to protect them from environmental damage. Indeed, many universities find their way into the database to use it for research. There is an open policy for the archives, though only a select few can change the contents within. He would say that no, he had not seen a library as vast and diverse and well kept as the archives, but he is not sure how much of that statement comes from a healthy fear of Madame Nu should she find out he’d said that. He’d rather not be on the archivist’s bad side.

“Few have matched the archives' size and wealth of knowledge, though there is a vast library on Alderaan solely composed of original documents.” Obi-Wan looks at him curiously, urging him to continue, “It is more difficult for knowledge to be shared from that library due to the fact that the documents have not been recorded digitally, but it is still a vast library and a sight to behold.” He had visited it twice with Cyslin and the smell of old books paired with the elegant covers had very much seemed Alderaani. “Well, here we are. The archives. Let’s look for Mater Dolan, shall we?” Mace squeezed the hand softly, shooting Obi-Wan a smile.

Obi-Wan grinned back and followed him, turning the corner. Almost immediately a large wookie was in front of him, and then he was kneeling down and reaching for Obi-Wan. “Thank the Force, Obi-Wan. Where in Force’s name were you? I’ve been worried sick! You and your habit of wandering…” Large hands flutter around, turning Obi-Wan from one side to the other before finally deeming him alright. The reddish-brown fur which had been standing on end in an agitated fashion smoothed down. Master Dolan’s eyes shifted from intently studying Obi-Wan’s face to looking at Mace. “Thank you so much for bringing him here. I was about to call the Temple guards.” The wookie says, head bowing in thanks.

Mace smiles, “Oh it was no problem. Obi-Wan was a good walking companion.” He shot the boy a smile who still managed to smile back, large hands still resting on his shoulders. Master Dolan begins muttering under breath about how he was ageing prematurely and how ‘all these grey hairs are a result of your habit of wandering, young man.’ Finally, it seemed the wookie truly calmed and stood, towering over Mace though there was a gentleness in his eyes that made it feel calming and comforting. Obi-Wan stood by Master Dolan’s side, head leaning against the Master’s leg with a tired smile.

“I’m Master Dolan,” he introduced himself, taking in a deep fortifying breath. “I can’t thank you enough, Knight…”

“Ah, Mace. Mace Windu.” Mace bowed a bit in greeting, “And truly, you don’t need to. Obi-Wan is a kind soul, I enjoyed our short walk back.”

“Nevertheless, I thank you.”

“Ah, well, alright then. But I assure you, it was not an inconvenience at all.” Mace assured.

The frazzled creche master calmed fully, looking down at the young child and giving him a little poke for attention. “Come now, what do you tell Knight Windu, hmm?”

Obi-Wan blinked adorably before bowing respectfully, “thank you, Knight Windu, for bringing me back to Master Dolan.” His voice was somewhat soft, but strong still.

“Well, thank you, Obi-Wan, for your company. I enjoyed our conversation very much.” The young boy perked up before turning to hide a bit behind the wookie Master’s leg, face bright red in embarrassment. Obi-Wan appeared to try and speak, but only a small squeak came out before he retreated further back behind the cover of the legs.

After a while, though, the young boy found the courage to speak and peeked out, “I like talking with you, too,” he says seriously before retreating even further until he is practically hidden by the Master’s leg.

“Well, I best be going. Master Dolan, Obi-Wan.” He bows in farewell, receiving one in response from the two. “May the Force be with you.”

Master Dolan smiles and replies in the same manner, “And with you.”

“Always. Obi-Wan adds, peeking out and waving his arm goodbye. “Bye, Knight Windu!”

#mace windu appreciation week #mace windu appreciation #mace windu #obi wan kenobi #baby obi #star wars #star wars fanfic #fanfic #duna writes #Hope you folks have enjoyed these oneshot thingies for the week

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sunsoothed · 3 years

Text

last love

prompt fill time! i got this prompt ages ago, i think when the show was still airing, and i just finished writing it in two days or so. it's turned out to be much longer than i intended, and i'm pleased about that. there is bye bye balloon date and a night spent in busan. warning for one instance of referenced internalised homophobia.

word count: 2294

read on ao3

enjoy!

Unfortunately sunny, the day reigns. There is a flyer slid cleanly under Jipurgi Law Firm’s door, inoffensive to the eye, nothing special. It is Chayoung who first takes note of it, hearing the paper flap as a draught sings through the office.

She stands in her heels, staring down at the complexity of colour, before she finds a very, very familiar face.

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Chayoung says, as she bends down and picks the flyer up, “You didn’t tell me you got another job.”

Vincenzo furrows his brows, leans back in his chair to observe what Chayoung’s got her hands on to make her hypothesise such a thing. He leans back far enough to catch sight of the flimsy flyer, distantly notices the Bye Bye Balloon logo, and in his shock, manages to tip his chair back entirely.

Minutes later, Vincenzo holds an ice-pack to the back of his head, seated at the table in the middle of the office. Chayoung sits at the head of the table and Mr Nam opposite him, the both of them eagerly awaiting an explanation while the flyer sits innocently on the table. Vincenzo can see his own tired face reflected back at him.

“Seokdo-hyung asked me to model for him,” Vincenzo mumbles.

Chayoung leans forward, her hands clasped together and forming a triangle with her forearms. “I didn’t hear you, could you repeat that?”

Vincenzo shoots her a dirty look, and replies with a scowl: “Seokdo-hyung asked me to model for him.”

“Wow,” Mr Nam nods. “Wow,” He repeats, and then he claps.

With a deadpan expression, Vincenzo hits his head with the ice-pack.

Chayoung bites her lips to hide a grin. “Modelling, then?”

“He said I owed him,” Vincenzo mutters. “You can see I’m not happy about it.”

Chayoung ignores him completely. Her massage toy materialises out of somewhere and taps him on the shoulder.

“Do you get a free ride if you modeled for them?”

Vincenzo glares first at the toy, then at Chayoung. “How would I know.”

“Tch.” She glares back. “I’m going to ask them.”

Before Vincenzo has time to process what she’s saying, Chayoung skips out of the office. His panicked byeonhosa-nim! fails to reach her ears, and with a sigh he resigns himself to his fate.

It’s a week later that Chayoung drags him to spend a night in Busan, quite literally pulling him by the hand into the train at five-thirty AM. The one backpack of their shared necessities for one night slings heavily over his shoulders.

Seokdo-hyung had already started setting everything up at the port, or so he’d told them, when they’d called him last night. He also specified that they needed to arrive before nine in the morning, then he harped on about logistics of wind direction and whatnot, and Chayoung had put him off speaker and returned to going through Vincenzo’s cupboard.

Of course, she had shown up at his place uninvited, and of course, he let her do whatever she wished.

And so were the consequences: one bad cup of espresso at the train station and three hours in-and-out of sleep aboard the train. Chayoung shakes him awake fifteen minutes before they arrive, something unmistakably soft in her eyes as he removes his head from her shoulder.

“You’re like a cat,” She tells him, smile mild and indulgent. When he asks her to, she refuses to elaborate on it. “You just are.”

Chayoung takes his hand the moment they get off the train. Vincenzo stares down at their joint hands, then at Chayoung’s face, an obvious question in his raised eyebrows.

“You’ll get lost,” She explains. “I bet you’ve never been to Busan before.”

Vincenzo opens his mouth, always ready to argue with her, before he realises that she’s actually right. “I haven’t,” He acquiesces. “Lead the way.”

When Chayoung grins at those words, there is a blush high on her cheekbones, reflecting in the morning sunlight. Vincenzo wants to kiss her.

So it turns out Seokdo-hyung is actually competent at his work, for he had everything prepared when Vincenzo and Chayoung arrived on site, still holding hands. He had nothing to say to that.

“I’ll take you for a nice ride around the coast, but since you both aren’t actually using our service, you get none of the on-flight snacks and we’ll come down before we use up too much fuel. Clear?”

“Clear!” Chayoung exclaims, determined in the sharpness of her eyes. Vincenzo just nods.

Seokdo-hyung claps his hands together, then gestures for them to get on, scampering on once the both of them are standing in the basket. They’re high up in no time, Busan’s urban landscape majestically below them.

“I usually don’t do this,” Seokdo-hyung starts up, after they drift for a few minutes. “But it’s difficult to get licensed to pilot this, so I’m glad I can put my skills to use.”

“You have a very mysterious past, Mr Nutria,” Chayoung calls from across the basket. “How random is a hot air balloon license.”

“Ah,” Seokdo-hyung stares out into the distance, exclaims somewhere between wistful and egoistic. “I’m full of surprises.”

Vincenzo and Chayoung share a smile. Vincenzo shifts closer, so that they’re both sharing the same view, shoulder to shoulder.

“I’ve never seen something like this,” Chayoung tells him, voice soft. She leans into his shoulder to be heard, Vincenzo automatically leaning down to accommodate her.

“Me neither.”

Chayoung laughs, airy and giddy, her eyes on his face for just a second before she continues to take in the scenery. “It’s nice up here, isn’t it?”

Vincenzo blinks softly at her. “Mm. It’s a little cold, but yes, nice. Very nice.”

“You always underdress because you want to look cool,” Chayoung tuts. “I expected this.”

Vincenzo, who has never been so perceived and so personally affronted, only stares mutely as she produces a woolen scarf from her handbag. Before he has the opportunity to ask her exactly how she managed to stuff it in her bag, she’s throwing it around his neck, wrapping it tightly.

“Too - too tight,” Vincenzo winces, as Chayoung pulls the ends of the scarf; constricting his throat.

Chayoung’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm, then fall back down in annoyance as Vincenzo grins at her. She shoves his shoulder.

“Idiot,” Chayoung huffs, pointedly looking away from him.

“Wouldn’t it be funny,” Vincenzo starts, placating her with a hand on her shoulder, “If you managed to kill me like that?”

“You’re seriously asking to be killed now,” Chayoung replies, diluted astonishment. “With your mother’s scarf, too. You’re very dedicated to giving yourself a horrible end.”

“That won’t be a horrible end,” He says, toys with the scarf around his neck. “At least, not for me.”

“Not after all you’ve done?”

Vincenzo exhales and bites the flesh of his lower lip. Then he nods at Chayoung.

Chayoung drapes an arm over his shoulder. “Then we’ll go together.”

“Byeonhosa-nim —”

“We’ll go together,” Chayoung vows, leaving no room for argument.

Early evening, Seokdo-hyung has already made his way back to Seoul. Vincenzo and Chayoung have since walked enough to exhaust themselves and eaten too much off the streets of Busan to need dinner. Chayoung still stops him by a convenience store near the Hyatt, and puts two packets of ramen’s worth of bills on his credit card.

“I spent all my money treating you,” Chayoung explains, when Vincenzo holds his mouth open and eyebrows raised throughout the billing process. “Be grateful.”

“On no, of course,” Vincenzo sarcastically inclines his head. “It’s not like I’ve been carrying your luggage the whole day.”

He still holds the door open for her when they exit.

“If it’s too much for your old, weary shoulders, I’ll carry the bag.”

“When we’re outside the hotel?” Vincenzo smiles his fake smile while looking up at the building. “Thank you for your kind offer, byeonhosa-nim.”

Chayoung smiles back smugly.

Well, turns out she wanted him to suffer more.

“There’s only one bed.”

Chayoung just shrugs. Vincenzo scrunches his brows.

“Where will I sleep?”

“On the bed,” She replies.

“And where will you sleep?”

“On the bed.”

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Vincenzo begins, but he doesn’t know where he’s going with it. “Byeonhosa-nim.”

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Chayoung parrots back. “Is it a problem?”

Between Vincenzo’s quiet crisis over the bed and his stuttering, Chayoung has very happily dug her clothes and toiletries out of the backpack.

“I’m going to change,” She calls over her shoulder. “Don’t just stand there.”

Vincenzo, who had been planning to just stand there for a good few minutes more, does not budge an inch. In fact, he’s in the same position when Chayoung returns from the bathroom, mouth minty and feet bare.

“Byeonhosa-nim,” She says softly. “Is it really a —”

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Vincenzo interrupts her. “Can I kiss you?”

When the sun announces the first of its presence, it’s palpable through the translucent curtains of the hotel room. Chayoung awakens from her catnap against Vincenzo’s shoulder, her hair draped over his chest. She hums, content, runs a hand over his torso, eventually settling on the curve of his waist and clutching.

“You’re awake?” Vincenzo’s dry voice sounds from above her. “Did you sleep well?”

Chayoung smiles up at him. “Very well.”

Vincenzo responds in kind; he holds her by the waist, guiding her slightly upwards for a kiss.

“You would, after you exhausted yourself like that.”

“Why do I get the feeling you talk to all your hook-ups like that?” Chayoung wonders while she lightly traces his jaw with her free hand. “Is this how you usually do this?”

“This isn’t a hook-up to me.”

“No?” Chayoung’s fingers stop shy of his lips.

“No,” Vincenzo confirms, bends down to kiss her fingers. “It’s much more than that.”

She sighs against his chest. “For me, too. You’re not a hook-up.”

Vincenzo kisses her forehead.

“But…”

“But?”

Chayoung hides her face in his neck. “But I won’t say this is some first love thing either.”

That draws a laugh out of him. “First loves are overrated anyway.”

Chayoung peers at him. “Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”

Vincenzo tilts his head to look at her. Chayoung gets the hint, lazily boosting herself up on her forearms. Vincenzo, freed from his entrapment, takes a moment to relieve the cricks in his neck, then sits back against the headboard of the bed. Chayoung drapes the sheets over her shoulders and sits beside him.

“Back in Italy,” Vincenzo starts, after retrieving his lighter from his bedside, “There was this upperclassman at my high school. He was also Korean. He used to tutor me, in our school’s library, every Wednesday evening.”

Vincenzo clicks the lighter open and shut a couple of times.

“I realised I liked him and I had a crisis about it, like any fourteen-year-old would. I definitely detested that part of me for a good while. It wasn’t — isn’t something that was exactly… orthodox. And to a fourteen-year-old, no matter what you’ve seen, when you discover something for yourself, it’s always pretty monumental. So I… I tried to avoid him for a few weeks, but he found me each time, and he’d speak my mother tongue and cajole me into a better mood. He never asked what had me so down.”

Vincenzo closes the lighter and holds his thumb down.

“I thought of him day and night. The more I made myself avoid him, the more I’d think of meeting him, the more I met him, the more I’d want to see him again. It was like that. But that wasn’t why I really thought of him as my first love, I think. It was after he graduated, he gave me a present, a letter. He said he was proud of me. And then…”

“And then he left?”

Vincenzo looks at Chayoung with a reluctant smile. He nods.

“That’s when I knew I loved him. His absence hurt like my mother had abandoned me again.” Vincenzo swallows. “But you know how it is for fourteen-year-olds. I did forget him. I did forget that part of my identity as well. But I like to keep him in my memory. He was kind to me, I was so much more naive. It’s nice to remember him, because I can remember a different me. It’s somewhat a tribute to Park Joohyung, the boy I once was. Before my world changed forever.”

Vincenzo swallows into the silence once again. Chayoung sighs.

“I can’t compete with that.”

A laugh, punched out, but a laugh nonetheless. “This isn’t a competition.”

Chayoung sighs again, leans against his shoulder until her cheek is squished against it. “My first love was this boy who used to walk to the bus stop with me. He always had some kind of candy on him, and he always shared it with me.”

“How Pavlovian.” Vincenzo drily remarks.

“What did I say? Nothing that can compete with your sob story.”

Vincenzo scoffs lightly. “We won’t end up like that.”

“We won’t,” Chayoung agrees. “We’re old now.”

Vincenzo bends his head so that they’re eye to eye. “Your timing is horrible.”

“What? Were you going to confess your undying love to me or something?”

Vincenzo’s mouth hangs open in affront.

“You were,” Chayoung says, then covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh my god, you were.”

“You ruined the moment,” Vincenzo curtly informs her. “Forget it.”

“You can’t do this to me —”

“I can,” He decides, and sits with his arms crossed and mouth sealed shut.

“Come on.”

“Byeonhosa-nim.”

“Vincenzo Cassano.”

“... Jagiya?”

That makes him look at her.

“I love you,” Chayoung seizes the opportunity. “Now say it back.”

Disgruntled cat that he is, it takes more than one try to get Vincenzo to say it back. But once he starts, he doesn’t stop.

#tvn vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #hong chayoung #chayenzo #chayenzo fic #vincenzo fic #bye bye balloon #whovie writes

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hopesbarnes · 4 years

Text

Summary: It’s been a long day, and all you really want is get a little stress relief. Preferably the type with no clothes and a man between your thighs.

Pairing: Post CA:TWS Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption, Curse Words, SMUT 18+ (oral sex {f & m recieving}, face fucking, derogatory words, light bondage, use of underwear as a gag, fingering, metal arm kink, let me know if i left a warning out please) - if underage do not read or engage!!

A/N: Major thank you to @starbxcks for beta reading this and helping edit it, and to @ballyhoobarnes for helping with my awful russian translations. Love you both💓 (ps guys this is so different from my usual writings, let me know if i should keep it up👀)

You had one thought on your mind when you entered the lounge. And it was not an innocent one. Today had been awful, and you just wanted to deal with it with orgasms. So you made sure to look the part, short dress that dipped a little too low in the cleavage and heels high enough you could reach the sky. The looks you got walking down the sidewalk and snickers from men catcalling you didn’t even matter.

You were desperate enough to break out the expensive perfume. It was that type of bad day. You even got a hotel room, knowing you didn’t want this night to bleed into your night in any way. Just a simple hookup.

When you get into the building it’s packed. The lights are low and neon lights illuminate from above. You walk straight to the bar and ask the bartender for a vodka shot and down it before scoping out the room.

To the end of the bar sits a man that immediately holds your attention. His dark hair is tied back in a bun, and he has a leather jacket on. You silently hope he’s a biker because you’re in the mood for something dangerous. You take a seat a few chairs down from his and look over at him again. This time he meets your gaze and you’re awestruck by his eyes. You can’t make out the exact color, but they’re piercing. His face is covered in scruff and he is the most gorgeous man you’ve seen in a long time.

He sticks his hand up, covered in a leather glove, to signal for the bartender and after a few moments, you’re given a colorful cocktail that looks more sugar than alcohol. You walk over to him and take the seat next to him.

“Thank you for the drink. Although it’s not really my kind of drink,” you say with a devious smirk.

“What’s a pretty girl like you drink then?” he asks turning his body towards you.

“Scotch and soda,” you say and he orders the drink giving the other one back. He looks like he’s nursing a bourbon.

“You meeting up with someone?” he asks looking at your silky blue dress.

“Just you,” you say boldly sipping on your drink. He nods and a small smile sits on his face.

“Just me huh?” he says with a light chuckle.

“You wanna stay and chit chat, or do you want to see what’s beneath this?” you ask grabbing your purse from the counter.

He chokes a bit on his drink but reaches into his wallet and places a couple of bills down and follows you out of the dimly lit lounge.

You guide the man towards your hotel, but realize you should probably know his name before you screw this man six ways to Sunday.

“What’s your name?” you ask in the hotel lobby.

“James,” he says quickly.

“Call me Y/N when I’m beneath you,” you say winking and tug him into the elevator. He follows along but the moment the doors shut he is anything but submissive.

James’ lips are searing against yours. His mouth molds against yours as he pushes your back against the wall of the small chute. One hand cups your face gently while the other is pushed against the wall keeping the pair of you steady. His tongue licks the seam of your mouth begging for an entrance. A sinful moan leaves your throat and he groans at the noise.

With a ding, you pull apart and drag him out of the lift and towards your hotel room. You can barely focus enough to get the key in the door before he opens the door and slams it shut throwing the key into the room without caution. He immediately meets you again and the gasp that leaves your lips is enough for him to tangle his tongue with yours once again. He lifts you up and walks you into the room, and you’re tugging his hair the entire time.

You trail your lips to his neck as he sets you down and he takes the moment to rid himself of the jacket. After leaving your mark on his body (for the first of many times tonight) you go to take off the gloves but he flinches.

“I’ve got-” he says showing you a metal appendage. Your eyes go wide and he goes to recover it but you grab the glove.

“If that isn’t in me at least once tonight, then this has been a waste of my time,” you say and he blinks at you twice before smirking and reaching behind you to undo the tie holding your flimsy dress together.

You loosen the dress and let it pool at your feet, and kick your heels off as well. It wasn’t the kind of dress to be held down by a bra, and you toss your thong to the side. It leaves you in front of him bare. But that doesn’t seem to bother him at all, in fact, it has the exact effect you hope for when you notice his jeans tighten around his bulge. He rips his t-shirt off his body and you can tell that his entire shoulder is scarred. But you pay it no mind and rake your long nails up his abdomen.

“You gonna put those pouty lips to use for me, сахар?” he asks and you nod. Something about hearing him speak a foreign language just made this man hotter.

You kneel down in front of him and undo his belt and pull it off. You go to put it on the ground when he grabs it from you instead. He bends it around your arms creating two loops for your hands. He slides it tighter and drops your arms behind your body.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Okay.” You answer, already feeling your excitement coat your thighs. This would be a night you wouldn’t forget for sure.

James pulls off his jeans and boxers and you can’t help but stare at how big he is. You’re not going to be able to walk straight tomorrow, that’s for sure.

“You gonna suck me filthy girl?” he asks stepping closer to you. You nod your head in obedience, licking your lips at the thought of him deep down your throat. “Treat me right and I’ll fuck that poor neglected pussy with my hand, tongue, and cock. Не могу Дождаться когда я увижу тебя разрушил.”

You can’t believe he actually said that and a moan slips from your lips in response. James slips his thumb between your glossy lips and you suck on it. He grabs his hard cock and brings it to your lips. You lick a long stripe up the vein beneath him and kiss down the sides teasing him. But you can tell he doesn’t like this when he pulls your head to look him in the eyes. You bat your eyelashes and keep eye contact as you pull just the tip of him into your mouth.

He loops his hand in your hair creating a ponytail to tug on. You pull back and repeat the entire motion, licking him up, kissing him, and sucking just the smallest amount of him. You know you’re teasing the man but you can’t help it. After giving considerable attention to the pre-cum covered tip you bob your head and take half of him into your mouth. He lets out a deep groan and it goes straight to your core.

“Fuck me,” he groans and you set a slow pace of taking just half of him into your mouth. You make sure to breathe through your nose steadily and calm yourself as you take more of him in. You make sure to look back up at him and pull your head back leaving your mouth open in a perfect O.

James takes the hint and smirks and starts thrusting his hips into your mouth. You wish more than anything to be able to trail a hand down to where you need it most, but his belt constricts this. So you let yourself be his personal toy for a few minutes. He uses a combination of thrusting his hips and pulling your hair to create a perfect face fucking speed.

The whole time he’s muttering words you don’t understand, “такие красивые сиськи” and “не могу дождаться, чтобы увидеть вас на моем петух ребенка”

You can feel tears running down your face and you know you must look like a wreck but to be honest, you do not care at all.

You can see his breathing get rougher, and his stomach muscles contract. “Гавно,” he says darkly and you know he’s close. There’s spit drooling down your mouth, and it mixes with the tears he caused.

“You’re gonna swallow it all, hear me Котик?” he says tugging harshly on your hair. All you can do is blink in response, your hands and head are not your own at this moment.

James speeds up his thrusts and with a deep grunt, he shoots his seed down your throat. The salty smell coats your senses and you swallow it all down. You make sure to lightly suck him clean and he pulls out and makes sure to trail the last little bit from your lips into your mouth.

“Such a good little cock sucker, huh? Bet you want your reward now,” he notes eyeing you up and down. You nod in agreement. He walks away from you and your eyes furrow in confusion. But he comes back with a glass of water and tells you to drink it. You can’t exactly move your arms, so he helps you drink it.

It’s a sweet moment in contrast to what’s to come. He sets the glass down on the nightstand and grabs your waist bringing you to your feet, before hauling you onto the bed. He reaches to undo the belt letting your wrists free.

“These,” he says grabbing your hands and putting them on the headboard, “Stay here.”

“Yes sir,” you say licking your lips excited. If his actions were anything to go by, he’d be one hell of a god at getting you off.

You’re practically panting when his rough hand tweaks your nipple. The cold metal one slides down your skin, tracing your breasts and stomach.

“Please,” you whine and he gives you a look.

“I liked it better when you were gagging on my cock. Quieter that way Котик,” he says as he palms one breast and slaps the other. You didn’t even know that him playing with your breasts would turn you on as much as it did but god you felt good as he palmed them.

He trains his fingers back up and places the metal ones at the seam of your mouth. You open submissively as he says “Соси”. You assume this means something along the lines of getting his fingers wet, so you coat them in your spit.

“James, fuck me already!” you beg and he pauses his actions.

“Can’t even keep your mouth shut huh Проститутка?” he asks and reaches off the bed to grab your discarded thong. He stuffs the lacy fabric in your mouth to keep you muffle your whining. Since your mouth is no longer able to, he spits on his fingers and then, without warning, plunges them deep in you. It’s only two fingers, a much smaller width than his cock but they already have you seeing stars.

The cold metal of his fingers gives such a high contrast to the practical heat coming from your core. You’re the epitome of hot and bothered at this moment, and the only remedy is James. This man who you just met hours ago (and has barely even touched you) is easily one of your best hookups.

He’s pushing his fingers in and out at such a rampant pace that it’s slamming you against the headboard. Mangled moans leave your stuffed lips as you look at the delicious man between your thighs. You feel your climax building as he whispers foreign words in your ear.

“Такая плотная и мокрая киска,” he says and you don’t know what it means but it’s enough to nearly tip you over.

That is until he halts his movements and gives you a devious smirk when you lift your head to look at him.

“James!” you try to yell at him but it comes out muffled and distorted. He leans down and licks up your thigh collecting everything that’s soaked them. It is by far the hottest thing you’ve seen. He thoroughly cleans every inch of you, teasing by not touching where you need him most.

You groan in frustration and he bites down on your thigh, sucking a hickey near where you want his lips.

“Нужно оставить напоминание обо мне, кукла. Now, be a good girl and spread your legs for me.” he says sternly. You widen them further and he tugs them apart. He lays down on his stomach and you can finally feel his hot breath on your soaked center.

His tongue slowly licks from your opening to the hood of your clit. He groans at your taste, “sweet like cinnamon baby,” then he dives back in. His hand grips your thigh and you know it’ll be a bruise in the morning light but you don’t care.

James licks a few more stripes, going up and down and your eyes roll back into your head as you pant. He meets your gaze and winks before spitting on your core and pushing his tongue into you, licking you out from the inside. You lift your head in time to watch him swallow your essence.

He doesn’t let up as he sinks his tongue back in, alternating between tongue fucking you and sucking on your clit. He brings his metal hand back and pushes it in, and you feel your orgasm build again.

The suction on your clit and pressure from his fingers has twisted moans falling from your lips only muffled by the lace of your panties.

“That’s it Котик,” he says before sucking again. And when he crooks his fingers you let go. Stars flood your senses, and you explode all over him. But James laps it all up, not letting an ounce get away from him.

He pulls the thong from your mouth and places his fingers in your mouth to suck. You grab them with one hand and clean them for him, releasing with a pop.

“Good baby doll?” he asks and you nod too tired to answer. “How about a bath then we continue this?” he asks and you smile.

“Just need a little bit, then I’m going to ride you into the sunset James,” you say fluttering your eyes. This was definitely the remedy to your bad day.

Translations: сахар- sugar, Не могу Дождаться когда я увижу тебя разрушил- i can’t wait to see you fucking ruined, такие красивые сиськи- such pretty tits, не могу дождаться, чтобы увидеть вас на моем петух ребенка- can’t wait to see you on my cock baby, Гавно- shit, Котик- kitten, Соси- suck, Проститутка- slut, Такая плотная и мокрая киска- such a tight wet pussy, Нужно оставить напоминание обо мне, кукла- need to leave a remind of me, baby doll

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky barnes smut #post catws #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( GHOST IN MY BED. )

Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do.

pairing. jjk x (named) f!reader.

genre + rating. rockstar!au. e2l (exes n enemies!). angst. general.

tags / warnings. the angst is heavy in this chapter. there’s also mentions of drunk driving, a reference to drug use, and really, just a lot of sadness. proceed with caution!

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif and @periminkle i lob you both!

wc. 2.8k

chapter one.

You’ve barely moved an inch, rooted to the spot by fear and sadness and three long years of distance. It feels far too strange to be so close, to see him somewhere other than an illuminated screen. You know you should say something, do something - anything - but every tired bone in your body is telling you to run and that’s something you can’t do. Not after you’ve come so far.

So you take a deep breath - deep as you can manage without bursting the dam that packs itself with flimsy sticks and stones - and step forward. It feels monumental, far more than a single footfall.

He’s watching you, carefully, as he’s always done, with awe written into every line still visible beneath bandages. You see the way his jaw tenses, how the muscle works in agitation and hopelessness. He’s holding himself back, much to your surprise. You think you only recognize that because you know him so well.

And then you remember - you don’t know him at all. Not anymore.

Because he might seem like the same boy you’ve loved for most of your life, but he’s nothing but a ghost now. A figure from your worst nightmares, draped in white linen and gauze.

His hair’s far longer than it’s ever been, sweeping over the sharp contours of his cheeks, past the singular scar he’d gotten in third grade. It curls over his ears even in its dishevelled state, looking in desperate need of a cut and yet endearing all at once. The way he stares at you remains the same - intense, achingly familiar - and his smile - a little battered and bruised now - stretches like pavement, concrete and grounding.

You hate that it does something to your heart, the delicate frame of your rib cage rattling with the way the organ nearly launches itself out of your throat and into his hands.

You take another step. Jungkook doesn’t look away.

“I missed you,” he says, as if you’re an old friend, someone who’s come to hold his hand. As if he hadn’t broken your heart into a million pieces and this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him since you managed to piece it back together.

How you’d managed to rebuild yourself after that, you’re not sure. You’d collected the broken bits, filled the cracks with gold, and mended it into something different. A bit flawed and imperfect, but whole - stronger and illuminated. You’d done that all on your own.

That doesn’t mean it doesn't still beat for him, just a little.

A part of you aches to return his words. It’s halfway off your tongue when you cut it off, severing it with a bite of your teeth and a resolve that just barely holds on.

You reach his side - still a good foot from the edge of the bed - and settle into the worn leather chair to his right. It’s comfortable, surprisingly so, but you can’t find it in yourself to relax. You’re ramrod straight, line of your spine strung like a bow.

It’s hard to look at him directly - to recognize the parts of him you’d once called yours - so you don’t, instead allowing your gaze to bounce across the room. There are large bouquets of flowers against the few surfaces, all larger-than-life arrangements that look at odds with the barren body that’s laid up beside you. You wonder, idly, who they’re from. Friends? Family? Your heart stutters. Fans?

There’s a bag and personal effects on the couch. Black leather, exorbitantly expensive, embossed with his initials on the interior pocket. The gift you’d gotten him for your last anniversary - the same one he’d nearly lost on tour despite the fact that it cost you more than you’d have cared to admit. Something like anger simmers in your stomach at the sight of it.

When he speaks again, you’re still glaring at the bag, unable to tear your eyes from the supple material and all the memories it carries.

“Pumpkin?”

The nickname tears you from your reverie. You can’t help the way you suddenly stare at him - all wide-eyed surprise. “What?”

Something close to relief floods his expression, spilling like wet paint over the curve of his mouth, the corners of his eyes. It spreads delight into every inch, unrelenting and unrepentant. “I said I missed you, Pumpkin.” He repeats himself not because you haven’t heard him but because he wants that reaction again - the one that tells him everything he needs to know.

You resent him for it.

“Please don’t call me that.” You wish it were stronger - that you were stronger. It’s hard.

You know you shouldn’t love him anymore and that none of this should affect you. After all, he’d thrown your heart into a blender with three shots of vodka and chased it down with some pills and cigarette smoke. He’d filled all the space you’d given him with other things - riches and women and thin white lines - and he’d had the audacity to be surprised when your own sadness had slipped in, too.

He’d always imagined you’d keep it locked up, held so closely he’d never have to face it. You’d thought so to, really. Hadn’t expected the way it spilled out regardless, too much misery to be kept in a little glass house.

There was only so much you could take before it all came crumbling down.

So, it’s hard. You love him because he’s him and you’re you and that means more than you can possibly put into words.

“Don’t call you what?” It’s almost patronizing, like he can’t quite believe his ears.

“You know what.”

He scoffs - a low, broken sound that catches halfway out, muffled by chain-smoking and not nearly enough sleep. “You never used to have a problem with it.”

“We were together then,” you retort quietly, sandpaper grit and burnt coffee bitter.

“Just tossing me aside then?”

You’re not quite sure where he pulls it from - the sheer, idiotic confidence he somehow fits into his words, framing them like you’re in the wrong. You wonder if it comes from years in the spotlight because it certainly wasn’t there before.

“Don’t say it like that.” What’s meant to be reproachful comes almost pleading, soft and sad and stained with saltwater.

“Then don’t tell me what to do.”

The silence that falls is paradoxical, miserable and fulfilling all at once.

It hurts in the worst of ways, sparking from the tips of your toes to the tops of your ears. It feels like being outlined in neon - vivid pain in shades of pink and green that burn through your veins. Proverbial I told you so’s curl over your ankles and around your heart, little reminders that this is who he is now and every path would’ve led you here anyway. Parallel lines meant to converge only once before diverging once more.

“I’m sorry.” His apology feels infinite, as if it’s meant to make up for multitudes. “I just…”

Nothing further comes. You don’t know what you’d expected.

“It’s fine,” you say, even though it’s decidedly not fine. Absolutely nothing about this was even remotely fine. You weren’t even really sure why you’d agreed to come. You were still working through all your reasonings, turning them on their heads in hopes of receiving an answer other than the glaringly obvious ones that spilt out like salt grains.

“Is it?” Something about how he speaks, how the question seems so small, prompts you to meet his eyes. You wish you hadn’t.

There’s an infinite galaxy swirling in his irises, a million words he hasn’t spoken. They beg to be loved regardless, to feel even a semblance of the warmth your smile had once offered. It breaks your heart all over again, splitting it into pieces where the cracks and crevices haven’t quite fused together fully.

“I missed you, Pumpkin.” You don’t have it in you to rebuff him. Not when he reaches for you - a feeble gesture that pulls his figure close, entire bruised frame reassembling like a shuddering skeleton. He’s starry-eyed and intoxicating, drawing you into the Jungkook-shaped supernova you’re helpless against. “I missed you so fucking bad.”

“Jungkook.”

His name sounds like it’s about to break apart just like your heart, shattering wide open into a thousand splintered fragments.

“Please don’t do this.” Not again, you think. Not after all this time.

“I can’t,” he says and it’s shipwrecks and car crashes, misery in the form of broken teeth and battered bones and endless blue in his eyes. “I need you. I need you.”

It doesn’t escape you that you’ve heard these words before. You’d tucked that memory into the furthest corner, up and above your head in a shelf that you’d never touch. You’d folded it away into the box labelled JEON JUNGKOOK and tried to forget about it. You haven’t been able to.

It bursts out now, bouncing around your skull and in your ears - a feedback loop that won’t stop.

“Please.” You try again.

He’s gripping your hand so tightly - with a strength that feels far too much for someone only a day past a terrible accident - and it feels white hot and alive. Where his skin touches, he burns candle wax and coaxing - honeyed and warm. You imagine you’ll peel the drippings off later and be left with scars in the form of his hands. You wonder just how much more you can take.

“Please.” You try a third time. It’s feeble, frayed from holding on too long and too tight.

He hears it just as well as you.

“Stay with me. I don’t have anyone else.”

A part of you wonders how true that is. Surely, he had his family - his lovely parents that you’d practically considered your own. You can’t imagine they’d leave him here to rot.

Your resolve still crumbles, just a little, from the topmost pillar.

Ever the opportunist, Jungkook watches the fall of your Roman empire with rapt attention, hopeful as a new god. If only you weren’t so easy to read - full hand laid out on the table.

“What happened?” You pose the question in place of an agreement, words offered in the same instance you remove your hand - or try to, anyway. It doesn’t get very far. He seems adamant in keeping your fingers twined, knuckles stark white and riddled with tension. You wonder if he’s oblivious to it or if he just doesn’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time.

So focused on the way he holds you - claims you in the iron shackle that he deems he needs - you almost miss the way his features contort, rolling through a myriad of emotion before settling into a defensive mask.

You hadn’t expected a bared soul or a confession of all his sins - you knew enough of them already - but you’d hoped for some semblance of honesty.

By his expression, you wonder if you’ll even get that.

“I was in an accident.” It’s short, terse and held tightly between his teeth.

You don’t mean it in any way but observational. “I see that.”

He still takes it the wrong way, scowl fitting like a glove. It steels his jaw and hardens the line of his mouth, the moulting of purple over and around his eye doing little to hide the storm that grows in his stare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You can feel a headache coming on - the first pinpricks of it just behind your eyes and at your temples. It forms in bits and pieces, a silhouette of a man that burns your retinas and makes your grit your teeth.

“Nothing, Kook.” It comes far more tired than you expect it to, weighed down by something you can’t quite place. It feels like you’ve run a marathon in this small room. You wonder if this is what it’s always like - draining and miserable and reminiscent of the hell of tenth grade gym class.

“I’m sorry.”

How many times has he said that now? Will it ever be enough? For him? For you?

You shake your head, a slow gesture that doesn’t really register at first. You’re so used to appeasing him - even three years later - and it comes of its own accord, bobbing your neck on your shoulders like second nature. You could hold it back, but you seem just as intent on repeating yourself as he does. “It’s fine.”

Maybe this is what the two of you are destined for - two lost lovers stuck on a merry-go-round.

“It’s not fine.” He’s released your hand now - you try to ignore the sudden, overwhelming disappointment that crashes into you like a tidal wave - and uses the bruised, bandaged one of his own to scrub down the side of his face. It’s a surprisingly tired gesture, as if all of a sudden the weight of his situation has settled on his shoulders. You barely catch the words that fumble out next, hidden behind the palm of his hand and the ink that swirls over his ink. “I just…”

You’re hopeful for a split second. Hopeful that he might let you in, despite the fact that you know you shouldn’t even be knocking at that door.

“I don’t want you to look at me differently.” It comes so small, your heart clenches in your chest.

Then you wonder - what had he done?

“I won’t.” It’s not a promise but it sounds like one, filled with sunbeams and reassurance. You wish you could offer it any other way, maybe with careful regard and just the right amount of distance. Instead, you’re committed, poker chips piled high on green felt. All or nothing. You can’t help it.

“I fucked up.”

For the first time, you see him as he was those years ago - full of promise and hope, eager for a taste of the unknown. You see him as the Jeon Jungkook you’d known and loved, vulnerability threaded through all five feet ten inches of his frame.

You want to help him. You shouldn’t, but you do. “You can tell me.”

“We just finished the tour.” Pride colours his answer in glimmering strands of gold, threads that glint as he speaks. Charisma oozes out of every pore, shimmering like precious stones hidden behind his molars and within his stare. It’s easy to understand how he’s done so well for himself. “I was… celebrating. You know.” You certainly don’t, but you nod along regardless. “Things got a little out of hand.”

His attention seems far away, focused on something you can’t see. He continues carefully, cherry picking his words.

“I probably shouldn’t have driven. She—” Everything comes to a stuttering halt, his doe-eyed stare suddenly finding yours with alarm. “—I mean, they. Uh.” The damage is already done. You can feel it taking root - that same hurt you’d felt creeping into your throat before you’d stepped foot into this space. You swallow it down as best you can, tearing your gaze from his to train somewhere on the cotton that rests in his lap.

“Go on.”

He’s stuttering just a bit, because he can’t help it. He knows he’s been caught. You know he’s been caught. Gone is the Jungkook you’d once known. You see him for all he is yet again - a poor boy dressed in leather and lies. It hurts far more than it should.

“Uh. W-w-we were in, uh, the car.” The intensity of his gaze feels like two little laser beams. You can practically feel them burning through the top of your head as you refuse to meet his eyes. “I was— I was drunk and I didn’t— I didn’t see the other car.”

You’ve heard enough.

You wonder if the way you’re staring at him now is the way he’d most feared. It must be by how his face falls, crumples like a house made of playing cards.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” You mean it - really, you do - but that’s the only thing you can give him.

For his and for your sake, you need to leave. Now.

“Please remove me as your emergency contact.” Your voice wobbles, falling apart as you speak. You worry the tears will follow soon after. You can barely make out his expression, the wetness crowding heavily along your lashes and turning everything into a strange amorphous blob.

It’s getting harder to breathe the longer you stay. Each step towards the door feels like your head on the chopping block. Once you cross that threshold, it’ll be severed clean off. You’ll leave your heart in this room, with this boy who hasn’t grown a single day in the last three years.

You think he must be speaking to you but you can’t make it out. Everything’s muffled, like you’re underwater and about to drown. It fills your ears and steals your senses, narrowing your focus to the polished steel door handle that’s just within reach.

“I’m really, really glad you’re okay.” It’s all you can manage before the dam breaks and you’re throwing yourself into the hallway and the waiting arms of your brother. You don’t know how to stop the noise that rips out of your throat, wet and desperate and barely coherent.

Yoongi was right - you shouldn’t have come.

author note. this was quite short but it didn’t feel right with another scene added to it. the next chapters will move the story along a lot more. ty for reading! 💖

tag list. @jalexa83

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x0401x · 3 years

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #16

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Colombo’s Bookstore

Sri Lanka didn’t have as many bookstores as Japan. It had about three times as many used car shops as in Japan, I believed. But there were few bookstores.

In the first place, be them used car stores or bookstores, the shops were by no means big. This country was a tiny island with a national territory smaller than Japan’s, so lands that had forest reserves of local nature in them and real estate were probably valuable. If anything, I had an affinity for the place. But it was a pity that the bookstores were so few.

I often spent my time alone nowadays, so above all else, I appreciated having anything to read. I wasn’t the bookworm type, but there were just too many book-selling places in Japan. If you were getting off at some notable station in Tokyo, no matter which one it was, there would be at least one bookstore within walking distance. I also had a fresh memory of Saul-san telling me that “Japanese people really like their books”.

A street vendor was selling scissors in front of a bookstore in the sunlit streets of Colombo, the capital of Sri Lanka. Why did he decide to sell scissors by the road? And right before my eyes, a person on a bus riding slowly down the avenue was buying a pair of scissors from him. Did they have some bag that they wanted to cut open no matter what or something? I had no idea, but anyway, this was a world that operated with standards different from Japan’s, in which supply and demand were apparently well-established.

With glass doors, the bookstore had a magnificent structure and felt nice and cold when I stepped in. The study reference books were on the second floor, so I went up the arched stairs that parted to left and right, searching for the shelf that I was aiming for.

There you are.

I took three books from it, and when I went to the checkout, the female clerk, dressed in a sari, asked me, “Is this all?” in English. The official languages of this country were English, Sinhala and Tamil, with English being spoken by both Sinhalese and Tamils. I believed she was Sinhalese. Because the sari was not a Hindu but a Buddhist thing.

“These are volumes 2, 3 and 4. What about volume 1?”

“I bought just volume 1 a while ago. And it was really good, so I also wanted to learn the rest from this book series.”

“So you’re studying Sinhala. That’s rare. Where are you from?”

“I’m Japanese,” I answered.

What I had come to buy was a Sinhala language study reference book. It was a book for people who couldn’t read Sinhala, so it was, of course, written in English. Even so, I had read it a little before traveling. I also found and purchased a Sinhala language study reference book written by a Japanese scholar, which I was able to buy in Japan.

Regardless, it was kind of useless for my range of understanding, so I almost felt like throwing it away before I could learn anything. I told Saul-san about this when asking him for advice, at which he burst into laughter and then bought me a red paperback book.

A Sinhala book written in English.

The letters were very large and there weren’t too many words. As for the quality of the paper, on the bright side, it was straw paper, and on the downside, it was gray and flimsy. But the contents were very easy to understand and the insides were firmly packed.

This reference book taught Sinhala letters first, as well as the meaning and pronunciation of each one. From that point onward, I couldn’t be more thankful for it. Sinhala was a language written with a Sinhalese alphabet, after all. In addition to vowels such as A, I, U, E and O, it jumped on to a variety of consonants and other symbols that stuck one letter to another like joints. It explained each of them carefully so that even people who didn’t know Sinhalese at all could understand them. This book solved a large percentage of the problem that I had stumbled upon, namely “I can’t find the commonalities and differences between letters, so I don’t know how to tell them apart and can’t organize them in my head”. I was grateful for that. There was no need to ask Richard-sensei for a foreign language course via international call all the time anymore.

That being said, there were many letters in Sinhala. Meaning that there were several pronunciations. You’d think that the Japanese syllabary was cute in comparison. Not all of it could be explained in one book, and the lectures were extended over to the second volume, but Saul-san had bought only one book, in case it didn’t suit me. The results were as could be seen. It was the same kind of joy as reading one book from a novel series and then buying all the sequels.

Learning languages was fun. By the looks of it, learning how to link them directly to communication was what worked for me.

“But can’t you live in Sri Lanka while speaking English, even if you don’t understand Sinhala? Are you on a business trip?”

“Something like that, but if possible, I’d like to talk to people using a Sri Lankan language. I’m Japanese, but I’ve had the experience of being a bit happy when someone from a foreign country spoke in Japanese to me, so now I guess it’s my turn.”

“You have so much free time, huh!”

I had no words to reply. The clerk and I burst into laughter without any reserve and finished the checkout. As I went down the arched stairs, I found a space where they were selling festival tools, stationery and picture books. Many of the same books were arranged on two sides.

Or so I thought.

But that was apparently not it. What I thought to be the exact same large-format picture books were the English version and the Sinhala version. You’d miss it if you were distracted because the pictures were the same, but the picture book, which was probably a Sri Lankan version of a “Japanese folktale”-like work, was published in two languages.

“Y’see, the ones who buy these are parents who want their kids to learn English. ‘Cause speaking English comes in handy.”

When I turned around, the clerk who had been at the cash register on the second floor was right behind me. It seemed she had come to see me off. Apparently, the cashier on the first floor called out to her, telling her to go back to work or something like that, to which she replied at length, and the two exchanged laughs. Maybe the people in this bookstore were cheerful, as not all Sri Lankans expressed their emotions so openly.

“This one is the ‘Mean Old Man’. This one is ‘The Perahera Festival’.”

“Can even a small child understand it well?”

“Of course. This book is big so that it’s easy to read to them.”

Indeed, it was a thin picture book of a size larger than A4. In Japan, it wouldn’t be strange for it to have an anime or manga-style art, but the art of this one had an ethnic touch to it, perhaps to match the contents. The colors were rich, the mean old man was drawn in a vile yet comical way, and the blue gradation of the feathers in a bird’s tail looked tasteful.

“Hum, excuse me. Can I buy this too?”

“You’re going to buy it? Do you have children?”

“I’ll read it myself.”

The clerk laughed again, but after a moment, she made a straight face and told me that it certainly might be perfect for studying. I bought the picture book at the cash register on the first floor. Either way, it cost about 500 Sri Lankan rupees, which was about 600 Japanese yen, but in the eyes of this country’s people, that was probably quite a high price. This was a world of 10 rupees for a loaf of bread and 3 rupees for a cup of tea. Thinking like that, I could understand why there weren’t many bookstores and why there were so few people here.

You can’t eat or drink books. They’re not daily necessities either, like clothes, scissors or toothbrushes. Being able to spend money on such things as if it were obvious must be a sign of wealth. My country was all the more disagreeable for having bookstores everywhere. I’d never thought about it that way.

As I took the receipt and said, “Stūtiyi”, which was “thank you” in Sinhala, the black-haired woman smiled, looked at my face and said in Japanese, “Thank you very much. We will be awaiting your return.”

“Amazing!”

“Thanks.”

And so, she told me that her husband had been working with sheet metal in Ibaraki, Japan, for a while. Her pronunciation of the words “Ibaraki” and “sheet metal” was really good. Apparently, her husband had started up a small company with the money he had earned as an immigrant worker and was its president.

With her waving a hand at me and telling me to be careful, I left the store.

Even though it was early spring, the sunlight in Colombo felt like that of midsummer in Japan. But I was growing quite fond of this glare. Everyone walking in the streets was wearing mid-sleeves, and if they were so inclined, beach sandals too, but the humidity wasn’t as high as in Japan, so I could think that, indeed, this was also spring. The white of the temple flowers blooming along the road was refreshing as well. They reminded me just a little bit of cherry blossoms. And from this street, I could clearly see my favorite landmark.

Colombo Tower, a tower that had the lotus flower as its motif.

It was a Tokyo Tower-like landmark, not visible from my base camp, the mountain town of Kandy, and although the shape was grandiose, it was still under construction and nobody could enter it. However, one day – I didn’t know whether that would be while I was still in Sri Lanka or after I had settled somewhere else, but – I definitely wanted to climb that. I would.

May I be a little more proficient in the language of this country than I am now by then, and if possible, may I get to have small talk in the tower.

With a modest goal and a new book, I treaded the way to Saul-san’s office.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation

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tangledstarlight · 4 years

Text

hello. if you’ve followed me for more then a week you may have seen me talking abuot the alex 5+1 and how its been torturing me for months. well. it is finally done. i think i deserve a reward to myself.

but yes okay. it’s 5 times alex had just the right thing in his fanny pack +1 time that he didn’t.

anyway!! it’s another 5+1 that’s alex centric.

also on ao3 (link in replies!)

trigger warnings! death mentions (because they’re ghosts), mild swearing, mentions of blood and injuries but nothing graphic.

one.

On his tenth birthday his parents took him to the mall and told him he could pick out anything that he wanted from one store, courtesy of his grandparents. Which, for a ten year old, was a big decision to make. Because there were a lot of things that he wanted.

Alex had dragged them from shop to shop, looking through every piece of clothing, every accessory, every record and tape. There were a lot of things to choose from. He really hated having to make a decision.

It was pure luck when he finally found the thing he wanted. Tucked away behind backpacks and satchel bags and flimsy looking tote bags, Alex found the fanny pack. It was dark grey and made a funny sound when he scratched at the material with his nails. It was also the perfect size to fit his inhaler and a snack and a pen and, if he did it right, probably even a single drum stick.

(The brand new and shiny drum kit currently sitting in his garage at home was his main birthday present, and Alex was more than excited for Luke and Reggie and Bobby to come over later and see it, and now he could show them his new fannypack and they could fill it with all the essentials that ten year olds needed.)

Everyday he woke up and got dressed, the fanny pack would find its way buckled across his chest and he’d check it had everything he needed inside. Inhaler and tissues and crumpled up dollar bills and a pen and a snack, just in case. Because Reggie always got hungry and there were only so many times they could bother their parents before they got annoyed.

They’re sitting in tree house that Reggie’s dad had built – back when Reggie’s dad and mom didn’t spend so much time fighting and his older brother was still around and Reggie didn’t flinch at doors banging – scraps of paper and forgotten homework scattered on the wood.

They’re supposed to be doing homework. Like they do every Saturday morning before they all give in to Luke’s pouting and bike over to Bobby’s place to ‘rehearse’, (it’s more like, they’re all playing at the same time in different keys, but they’re eleven. A killer band isn’t created overnight.) but Luke hasn’t shown up yet and Reggie is on his third candy bar and Bobby gave up on maths homework in favour of his game boy. Alex would be more stressed about the turn of events if it didn’t happen every Saturday.

“Jump, jump, jump, dude! You gotta jump!”

“I know, you saying it over and over isn’t helping man,” Bobby grits out and Alex watches as Reggie hovers over his shoulder, eyes wide and practically hanging off his arm.

“Look out for – Oof. So close man. Shoulda jumped,” Reggie pats Bobby on the shoulder, just dodging as the other boy's elbow moves back to try and catch him in the ribs.

“I swear to god Reg –” Bobby starts and Alex is readying himself either to intervene or move out of the way when Luke’s head pops up through the hole on the floor, wide smile and messy hair and eyes gleaming with some kind of mischief.

“Guys!” They watch as he pulls himself up and into the tree house, they’re all knees bumping and elbows narrowly missing sides and Alex spends several long seconds worrying that this will be the day they no longer all fit. That they’ve finally outgrown the tree house. But then Luke shuffles back, dropping his backpack into the centre and Reggie bends one knee to rest his head on and Bobby drops his hands into his lap, game boy still beeping away.

“I had the best idea,” Luke starts, unzipping his bag and rummaging through it for something, “I was watching this film last night, right? I don’t know what it was, one of those weird ones that’s on at 2am. Not the point. Anyway so there was this group of friends right and they were all moving away and didn’t want to stop being friends so they did this blood pack? And Reggie,” he grunts as he pulls a textbook out of his bag and tosses it aside, Alex feels his brows pull together as he starts to follow Lukes train of thought, “The other day you said you were worried about us going up to middle school. So I thought why not do a blood pact?”

Luke still has his attention firmly on his bag, trying to find something, so he misses the alarmed look that Alex shoots at Bobby and the responding grin that graces Reggie’s face. He can see exactly how this will play out. Luke will make the first cut and Reggie will suddenly remember he doesn’t like the sight of blood and Bobby will go too deep and Alex will have to find a way to get the three of them down a tree without crying.

“Dude, we can’t do a blood pact!”

“Why not?” Reggie asks, lips sliding down in a frown.

“Yeah, why not?” Luke echoes and he’s got half of something pulled out of his bag that Alex can’t identify. But it doesn’t look like a knife, so that’s a little reassuring.

“Because,” he starts slowly pointing first at Reggie, “You don't like the sight of blood for starters.”

Alex watches as Reggie’s mouth forms a small ‘o’, his head bobbing up and down as if he’d forgotten that fact, but Luke rolls his eyes and finally pulls his hand out of his bag and with it comes a carton of something.

“I know that, I didn’t mean a real blood pact,” he shakes his head and Alex blinks, thoroughly confused, “The blood bits’ not the important part, it’s just the whole y’know, promising we’ll always be friends. But we still need to do something kinda gross to make it meaningful, so I went and bought tomato juice. It’s why I was late.”

The grin is back on Reggie’s face and even Bobby is nodding along now. Alex looks from the cartoon in Luke's hands to his friends faces before blowing out a sigh because well. It wasn't the worst idea Luke had had and it would be nice. For them to make a pact, to always be friends. For nothing to change between them.

“How do we do this then?” He asks and it's worth it, giving in, to see the bright smile take over Lukes face as he launches into his plan.

Alex should have expected something to go wrong, it was sort of his job in the group. To worry. But he’d gotten so caught up in the moment, in the sentiments and little speeches Luke said they each had to make, that he forgot to worry about the next stage.

It almost happens in slow motion, Bobby reaches for the carton to take his drink at the same moment that Reggie tries to pass it to him and their hands sort of collide mid pass and suddenly the carton is tipping to the side and red liquid is cascading to the floor. All over their still scattered homework.

“Crap!” In his haste to try and stop the still spilled drink Reggie drops the thing entirely, sending even more of it pouring over the wood and creeping towards them. Luke makes a grab for the juice, trying to scoop it up in his hands and if Alex’s mind wasn’t halfway to panic, he’d have probably burst out laughing. On autopilot Alex’s hands reach up for the fanny pack across his chest, pulling the zipper and digging through for the new pack of tissues that he’d stuffed in there that morning. Almost like he knew something was going to happen.

All their homework is ruined – Alex can’t wait to explain this one to their teacher on Monday – and when they all climb down the tree an hour later they all watch as a trail of red slides down the bark. Despite the mess it had caused, Alex has to give it to Luke, the tomato juice really did look like blood. And he feels closer to his three best friends, which he guesses is worth using his whole supply of tissues.

two.

“Fuck!”

It’s not really the first thing Alex wants to hear as he steps into their rehearsal space. Aka Luke’s parent’s basement that they’d reluctantly agreed to let them use until Bobby’s parents agreed to let them clear out their garage. It was so annoying, waiting for their parents to agree to simple things.

His eyes glance around the mostly empty space, jumping from the fold up chairs and second hand amps and his drums and Reggie’s abandoned bass before landing on Bobby who’s kneeling on the ground near the back wall, guitar leaning against the chipped concrete.

“You okay?” Alex says and flinches when Bobby flinches, turning around quickly to look at him. Either Bobby was too wrapped up in whatever was wrong and hadn’t heard him or Alex had finally perfected walking silently and could start sneaking downstairs at night for a snack.

“I just–” he breathes out a sigh, gesturing helplessly at his guitar and for the first time Alex notices the missing string, “It snapped and I can’t get the new one on.”

“Oh,” that doesn’t really seem worth the tense set of Bobby’s shoulders or the slight shaking of his fingers as he tries to get the new string out of the packet. With a small frown Alex kneels down next to his friend and carefully takes the packet out of his hands. “Want some help?”

As soon as the strings are out of his hands Bobby seems to collapse a little, shoulder against the wall and head dropping with a soft thud, eyes following as he opens the pack. Of them all, Bobby is the most closed off about his feelings, which Alex supposes, isn’t actually that weird for a thirteen year old. But when Luke –- who’s never been able to keep emotions off his face or out of his songs -- and Reggie -- who is never shy about laying his head on your shoulder and telling you he’s sad -- are your friends, it gets a little weird. Even Alex knows he’s crap at hiding how he feels about stuff.

They're three open books with a locked vault.

Because Bobby has a special skill of hiding his feelings behind a mask of indifference and jokes that he’s never offered to teach them. Which is normally fine, but sometimes things leak through and one of them notices that somethings wrong, like right now. Alex has watched him restring his guitar without issue so many times before, never once have his fingers shook.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Alex tries to decide if he should push or just wait it out or ask when the others are around so he can’t avoid the question. His last option makes him frown, because he’d hate it if they did that to him. Put him on the spot about something. And what if there wasn’t even anything wrong and Alex was just overthinking it? Maybe Bobby was just tired, or this string was just particularly tricky?

“Dude, I can practically hear you thinking.” Bobby says, huffing out a shallow laugh and Alex’s eyes widen a little as he looks up in time to see him shuffle around so his back is against the wall, legs stretching out in front of him.

“Sorry,” Alex starts, hands freezing in the air.

“Nah it’s--” he shakes his head, one shoulder shrugging as he frowns at nothing, “It’s fine.”

Alex thinks that’s the end of it, that Bobby isn’t going to say anything else and he’ll just have to wait it out and pretend that something isn’t clearly wrong. Putting the string down he pulls his fanny pack around so he can reach the little pocket hidden on the back (he’s pretty sure you’re meant to keep money in it, but well, he rarely has more than a few dollars on him) and pulls out the little multi-tool that his dad had gotten him for Christmas. Something about ‘being a man now’ and how ‘you can help a cute girl out’. So far all he’d used it for was clipping strings and once to unscrew a vent when Luke accidentally pushed his notebook through.

“I think my parents are getting a divorce.”

That almost makes him choke on his own spit, head whipping around to look at Bobby and all thoughts of his dad leaving his head.

“What?” he doesn’t mean to say it so loud, but judging by the way Bobby winces he must have practically shouted it. “Sorry, I just--” he doesn’t know what to say, mouth opening wordlessly. None of them have the best home lives, all their relationships with their parents have their issues.

But Bobby’s have always been -- well not the most reliable, but most consistent. Together, but distant. Together, but not home each weekend. Together, but happy? Alex feels a little like his world view has been tilted. Because if anyone's parents should be getting a divorce, shouldn’t it be Reggie’s? He bites at his lip at the thought, instantly regretting it.

“Pretty sure my mom caught my dad sleeping with his secretary,” he says with a small frown, wiping his cheek across his shoulder and Alex drops the multi-tool on top of the string and shuffles his way across the floor until he’s sitting next to Bobby, backs against the wall. “Which is pretty fucking cliche of him. But yeah. I caught them fighting about it last night.”

Alex doesn’t know what to say or do. This isn’t exactly a conversation he’d come prepared for or thought he’d ever have to have. Alex was still trying to remember his new school schedule, he didn’t have the time to prepare for possible emotional family conversations. He wishes Luke was here, or Reggie, so he didn’t feel so much pressure to say the right thing.

“That sucks man,” he blows out a breath, drawing his knees up so he can rest his hands on his things, fingers tapping across his jeans. “You wanna stay at mine tonight? We can rent Back to the Future and eat my sisters stash of popcorn?”

“Can we get the second one too?” There’s a slight smile tugging at Bobby’s lips and Alex returns it, fingers stilling as he feels some of the tension in his shoulders release.

“Course man, can’t just watch the first.”

three.

There was an unspoken knowledge in their friend group.

Luke had a tendency to get into fights he couldn’t win.

Sure, they were almost always in deference of Reggie or Bobby or him, but Alex really wished he’d stop getting into them. Or would at least start to win. Honestly, you’d think by now that Luke would know how to throw a better punch, or least know how to dodge one.

It was a little embarrassing, the amount of fights that Luke had lost -- not that Luke saw it that way. Any fight that resulted in him sporting a black eye or split lip, not his friends, was a win to him. Which was a nice sentiment, but Alex was fairly sure that his idiotic heroics were going to give him a heart attack one day.

Luke’s constant scrapes were why Alex had started to carry around band-aids and disinfectant and bandages in the first place. All stored carefully in his fanny pack along with his inhaler and extra guitar picks and a granola bar for Reggie.

It was also why Alex wasn’t all that surprised when Luke found him after school, holding his wrist carefully against his chest with one hand and trying to wipe a dribble of blood off his lip on his shoulder. A split lip, a scrap across his cheek, and once he got a better look, Alex was pretty sure he’d find split knuckles too.

“Have you got a band-aid or something?” Luke’s words come out a little mumbled as he tries not to reopen the cut on his lip and Alex just raises an eyebrow at him. A band-aid? Really?

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment Alex mentally counts to ten, reminds himself that his friend probably has a valid reason for looking like this.

Even though it’s only been twenty minutes since he last saw him. All he had to do was wait by their bikes while Alex went to talk to their history teacher about something. Twenty minutes alone and he’d found himself a fight.

“That’s –” he starts, then shakes his head, letting his shoulders drop as he breathes out a sigh and reopens his eyes, “Okay. Come on.”

Most of the school has cleared out as he leads them towards an empty bench, pushing Luke down onto it and pulling at the zip of his fanny pack to dig out the little homemade first aid kit he’d put together in a ziplock bag.

“Do I want to ask what happened?” He holds out a hand palm up for Luke to put his injured one in, biting his lip as he inspect the split skin and dried blood. It’s not as bad as he’d thought it would be, and it means Luke at least got one punch in this time.

“Some guys were laughing cause Bobby tripped getting on the bus and-” Luke hisses out a breath as Alex pours some water over his hand and starts gently dabbing at the cuts with a tissue, “Reggie dropped his bag when he tried to help him up. And I told ‘em it wasn’t funny and they said it was and I said it wasn’t and–- you get it.”

Luke shrugs up at him, starts trying to chew on his bottom lip before remembering it’s hurt and gives Alex a sheepish smile. Which is just annoying. Because Alex is the one trying to be annoyed here, trying to keep a stern look at his face even as locks of blonde hair fall in front of his eyes and he has to blow them away.

“You know you don’t have to start a fight every time someone’s mean to us, right?” He balls up the damp bloody tissue to put in the bin later and reaches for the cheap roll of bandages that he’d swiped from his mom's first aid kit at home. (All his medical knowledge comes from his mom, from watching her volunteer at church feats and garden parties as to who to go to when you got a little hurt. For someone with such a fully stocked box of medical tools, she sure did just pass out band-aids and suggest a glass of water a lot.)

“First, I didn’t actually start this fight. The one with the lip piercing threw the first punch,” Luke points his uninjured hand at him, like he’s just made a good argument before his lips pull down into a frown. “And I know I don’t have to. But I–- People are mean to you guys about stuff that doesn’t make sense. I don’t like that. Plus everyone knows that you guys would never do anything back, except maybe Bobby if it was really bad, and I just want them to know I think their assholes.”

It feels like there's more to it then that, Luke doesn't supply anymore insights into his thought process and Alex is too worried about their upcoming history text to push it today.

"You’re so-” Alex starts but stops himself, rolling his eyes as he ties off the bandage and shakes his head at Luke. “That’s a really stupid reason to get in all these fights, you do know that right?”

“Yup!” He inspects his hand, the off-white bandage wrapping around his knuckles and flexes his fingers to test how tight it’s tied, then his eyes drift to the ziplock bag and the band-aids, “You got any of those cool glow in the dark ones?”

Alex opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, but no words come out. It still surprises him, even after being friends for so long, how willing Luke is to get hurt for them. How he doesn’t seem to see any issue with it. He really hopes that one day he won’t feel the need to take a punch for any of them, that he won’t need to. But until then Alex supposes he doesn’t mind being a fourteen year old first responder. It’s kinda fun, sometimes. Like when he gets to dictate who gets which band-aid.

“You used the last glow in the dark one on Sunday. So you’re stuck with trucks.”

He’s still wearing the band-aid with little trucks on a dirt track across his cheek when he comes into school the next day and Alex really tries to stay annoyed at him. But it’s kinda hard when the only reason he’s got the cut is because he loves his friends. So Alex just rolls his eyes fondly and makes a mental note to ask his mom for glow in the dark band-aids when she next goes to the store.

four.

“You think Ron’s got the new Garth Brooks record?”

At least, that’s what Alex thinks Reggie asks, because it’s more like a mumbled group of sounds as the other boy stuffs a large forkful of pasta into his mouth. He glances at Luke, eyebrow raised to see if he’d understood the question right. And judging by the face Luke pulls, he thinks he did.

“I mean, probably. But we’ve been over this. No country in the van.”

Alex knows he’s trying to look stern and serious, Reggie knows it too. But Luke’s nose is scrunched up and his eyebrows are drawn together and his lower lip almost looks like it’s about to start quivering. Stern and serious isn’t the first thought that comes to mind. Cute, adorable, puppy like, sure. Stern or angry? Never.

“You’re just jealous,” Reggie starts, gulping as he swallows his mouthful and makes them both wait as he dramatically takes a sip of his soda too, “You wish you could do a country twang. It’s okay Luke-y, not everyone is musically gifted.”

He bites the end of his straw to keep from laughing at the look of annoyance that crosses Luke’s face, the desired reaction if Reggie’s widening grin is anything to go by.

“Dude you’ve done it now,” he mutters softly, but he can’t really find it in him to be too mad about the rant that Reggie has just triggered. Because it’s the first time in weeks that Reggie has smiled fully, and the bruise on his left cheekbone is now a faded purple and the arm he had been extra careful about touching is resting full length on the table as he taps the end of his fork on the wood.

Luke seems to know it too, if the gentle smile that briefly crosses his face when Reggie looks away for a moment is anything to go by. It had been to Luke's house that he’d run too, and Alex is honestly pretty proud of his friend for not leaping out his bedroom window to go fight Reggie’s dad the second he’d shown up. Alex was fairly confident that if Reggie asked to play nothing but country music for the next ten years Luke would agree if it meant they’d get to see his full blown smile without hints of sadness.

Sometimes, Alex wished he had half the confidence and determination that Luke had. Wished that when his fight or flight instincts were put to the test his reaction wasn’t flight. That he wasn’t always a little bit terrified of what would happen if he was honest with everyone, of what would happen if he threw a punch instead of trying to talk something out.

Probably just result in spending more money on band-aids and bandages.

Blinking the thoughts from his head, the blonde tunes back into the conversation. Pros and cons of having one country song on their demo.

“Come on! We’d all so rock a cowboy hat,” Reggie punctuated his point by stabbing his fork into the table, plastic progs snapping and flying into the air. “Fuck sake,” he mutters, a little mournfully as he pulls his arm back in to look at the one remaining bent prong and then down at his still half full container of pasta.

“I think the fork disagrees with the cowboy hats,” Luke grins, flicking one of the little plastic pieces at Reggie who just pouts for a moment longer.

And Alex can see where his brain goes, can practically track the thought process and the solution he comes up with as Reggie tosses his fork at Luke and starts to try and pick up the food with his fingers. But before he gets that far, Alex is pulling another fork out of his fanny pack, metal and wrapped in a napkin.

(Someone had once said to be prepared for all possible situations. Sixteen year old Alex had decided that meant he should start carrying extra cutlery around. Just in case. In case of what, he hadn’t known, but apparently it wasn’t a totally crazy idea, so screw you Bobby for laughing at it.)

“Here.”

Reggie accepts the fork, pout turning to a smile and sticking his tongue out at Luke who just rolls his eyes.

“Alex’ll do a country song with me, won’t you?” Both pairs of eyes are looking at him now and he doesn’t know if Reggie is being a 100% serious about a country song for their demo or wearing cowboy hats on stage, but he does know that either way it’ll make Luke do his cute angry face again and well. Alex can’t resist making him make that face.

“Oh yeah. We’d rock cowboy hats.”

five.

Being dead was -- not what Alex had expected. And it’s a little weird, because growing up he’d spent a lot of time thinking about what happened after you died. Where you went and what you could do and who would be there.

His parents were very insistent on ‘be a good person in life, don’t commit any sins and get into heaven’ so, when they’d died and ended up in a dark room, Alex had thought that was proof that being gay really was a sin and his parents had been right and now he’d dragged his best friends into hell with him. Luke might blame himself for them dying, and Reggie might blame himself for them being eternity linked, but Alex would always blame himself for that 25 year black room limbo.

Even if it wasn’t his fault. But he couldn’t convince the others that it wasn’t their fault, and they couldn’t convince him it wasn’t his fault and it was a loop they’d been stuck in for months now.

Julie called them all idiots for it. Fondly. With an eye roll. And a gentle smile when she’d pull them into a group hug.

Because they could do that now.

Hug her. So they did it a lot.

Group hugs and side hugs and high fives and piling onto her bed on a Sunday afternoon to watch one of the many Disney films they’d missed out on. They all latched onto her more than they already had.

Julie had pulled them out of the dark room -- hell -- and back into the light and then she’d saved them from zapping out of existence. Reggie might insist she was a witch and Luke would say a star, but Alex, who had a pretty rocky relationship with religion and God, was fairly confident in calling Julie an angel. (He was also willing to bet good money on in a fight, between a god, death and Julie, that Julie would win.)

And she didn’t seem to mind that they’d gotten a little...clingy over the last few months since the zapping had stopped. Which was nice, that they hadn’t annoyed her enough to send them packing yet. That she seemed just as attached to them as they were to her.

It’s with that thought in his mind that Alex knocks on her bedroom door. Julie loves them, Julie only invokes the boundaries rule when they snoop through her stuff, Julie isn’t about to tell them to leave because Alex is a little bored. At least he hopes she won’t.

“Come in.”

He almost misses her response, both because of his mildly spiralling thoughts and because her voice is soft, quite. Now his thoughts turn to worry as he pokes his head through the doors, eyes immediately landing on Julie tucked into her bed, surrounded by pillows and curtains closed. His brows pull together as he hesitantly steps through the door.

“Are you okay?” He asks, trying to keep his voice as low as hers had been. Slowly she lifts her head from the pillow, brushing curls out of her eyes as she looks at him with a small smile.

“Oh Alex, hey. I-- yeah, I’m fine. Just--” she trails off, blinks a little blearily at him and for the first time he realises that he’s woken her up. Shit. “Not feeling too great. Was trying to nap.”

“Shit, sorry, I’ll go. I didn’t know you weren’t well, I’ll um yeah. I’ll go.” He’s got half his leg through the door when she calls his name, a slight laugh in her voice and looks at her over his shoulder.

“It’s okay, you can stay. I wasn’t really getting much rest anyway.”

He opens his mouth to ask if she’s sure, but Julie’s already shuffling around in her bed, moving pillows and lifting the duvet for him to climb in next to her. Alex hesitates for a moment, bites his cheek before turning around fully and walking over, kicking his shoes off before sliding under the cover and making himself comfy.

“Why do you have so many pillows?” He asks, fluffing one up behind his head and moving another one to fill the space between the edge of the bed and the little side table.

“Don’t know,” she shrugs, and he knows she’s watching him with amusement when he repositions the pillow next to her head so it’s straight. He frowns a little at her answer because, well, that’s not really an answer. How does one person have like, ten pillows on their bed and not know why or how?

“That's not-- okay,” he sighs, letting it go, because now that he’s next her, Alex can see she’s shivering a little and her cheeks look flushed and on instinct he reaches out his hand to lay it against her forehead. She lets out a small hiss and Alex moves to move away when her hand comes up, warm fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep his hand in place.

“Stay there, your hands are cold, they feel nice.” And well, they might make fun of Luke for not being able to say no to Julie, but so far he hasn’t been able to do it yet either. So he keeps his hand on her forehead and moves his other to gently cup her chin and part of her cheek until he’s basically holding her head up in his hands, he watches as her eyes flutter shut.

“Have you taken anything?” He tries to keep his voice quiet, not wanting to disturb her too much but her eyes open and she shakes her head, blowing out a sigh as she moves herself out of his hold, head hitting one of her many pillows.

“All we have is cough syrup and dad’s out and I didn’t want to bother Victoria.”

So she’d taken herself to bed and tried to tackle whatever illness she had alone? Alex frowns at her, lets out a small tut as he pulls his fanny pack across his chest, unzips it and roots around for the ziplock bag of first aid things before pulling out a half used pack of paracetamol, leaving the bag on the bed. He’s dead, and so are his most clumsy friends, they don’t really need band-aids anymore.

There’s a bottle of water on the table next to him which Alex grabs, pops out two of the little white tablets and passes them both to Julie, who raises her eyebrows at him, but accepts.

“You know you’ve got three ghosts who would have happily gone to a store to get you something if you’d asked, right?” He’s sort of teasing, but sort of not as he watches her sink back against the pillows, water bottle still in her grasp. Turning her head a little, just enough so she can see him she shoots him a small smile.

“Didn’t want to bother you guys. You're my friends, not my personal shoppers and yesterday Luke had to go to the store because we forgot milk. Don’t won’t you thinking I’m just using you for your ghostly teleportation,” she says it like a joke, but there’s a sad sort of look in her eyes. The kind of look he used to see in Reggie’s back when they were kids and he thought they’d get annoyed with him. It had never even occurred to Alex that Julie might think they’d get fed up with her.

“Jules, you let us live in your garage. For free. The least we can do is the occasional magical shop,” he shuffles down in the bed until his head is resting on a pillow and they’re eye to eye, “And anyway, you could never bother us. We kinda owe our whole existence to you and you’re family and if you need help it’s a no questions asked type situation.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

She looks at him for a moment, eyes searching his face for something before she lets out a breath, shoulders relaxing and then she’s shuffling across the bed to lay her head on his shoulder, hair tickling his cheek but he doesn’t mind. Alex brings one arm up around her back and pulls her closer, tugging the duvet up to cover them a little more. They lie in silence for a while, Alex idly drumming his fingers on her upper arm and Julie tracing the letters on his hoodie. He doesn’t mean to pop the little peaceful bubble they’ve created but a thought shoves its way to the forefront of his mind and his fingers still.

“Hey uh, so do you think paracetamol goes out of date? Because that one I gave you is at least twenty-six years old.”

+one

Maybe, if Alex hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own head and trying to work through all of the sudden changes in his life, he would have noticed sooner.

At least, that’s what he’s going to tell himself and anyone else who might ask. He had a lot going on. He couldn’t possibly notice everything. Even something as big as this.

So yeah, he was going to blame all the crazy shit in his life for his sudden obliviousness.

The skate park was mostly empty when he got there – he forgot how long it could take to get somewhere when you couldn’t just poof into existence wherever you wanted. Being dead might have been bad, but he really missed the teleporting powers – which made sense, because the sun was starting to set and the air was growing colder. But he could hear the sound of wheels on concrete in the distance and followed it.

For a while, Alex just watched. He had never really cared all that much about skateboarding before (and honestly, he didn’t care all that much about it now, but he did like a certain skater an awful lot), but he had to admit it was fascinating to watch. The coordination and the skill and the lack of fear about falling.

Alex had always been scared about falling, physically and mentally and in love.

About hitting the ground and getting hurt and not being able to get back up. And he had fallen a lot. Out of a treehouse and down stairs. Had been pushed down. On concrete and on grass. Had been hurt. Luke and Reggie had always been there to help him back up though.

It didn’t mean it didn’t still scare him shitless. Falling.

Because what if one day he fell and there was no one to help him back up? What if one day he fell and everyone around him decided he was too much effort to help back up? What if one day he fell and staying down just seemed like the better option?

It was supposed to be one of the perks of coming back as a ghost. Of knowing that if he fell he couldn’t physically get hurt, and that Luke and Reggie would be there because they were always there and he was dead, falling in love shouldn’t have been a worry.

Of course, then he’d gone and got knocked off his feet, stinging palms and phantom bruises and hair flipping as the rest of the street blurred and all he could see was Willie.

And suddenly he was falling. Physically and mentally and in love.

Which was pretty fucking crazy. Who fell in love at first sight anyway? That wasn’t supposed to be a real thing. It was supposed to be something you read about or saw in silly cheesy rom-coms or from songs that people in love wrote.

So he’d met Willie, had fallen face first onto the ground, literally, and into like and then into love and then into life again.

It was a lot.

It was too much.

Too much change and more change and changing back and unanswered questions.

Was it really so hard to send a couple of ghost handbooks down?

So Alex had gone for a walk, to clear his head, to sort through his thoughts, to get a grip on the feeling of falling. He’d ended up at the skate park without really meaning too, not that he’d had any real destination in mind.

Sitting on a bench, he pressed two fingers to the pulse point on his wrist, counting the beats –- it’s been a few weeks and he’s still not used to having a beating heart, is always a little worried it’s all some big trick and he’ll wake up one day back as a ghost -– as he watches Willie go down a ramp and flip his board mid air.

Still being able to see with Willie was one of the many unanswered questions that he had.

(Maybe he should start making a list. Not that he thought he’d ever get any answers for them, but it might be nice. To have a list of all the questions about his death and his after life and his re-life. He could call it Tales of BHD (before hot-dog death). Julie might have some comments.)

Deep down Alex knew he shouldn’t question it. They’d been given a second chance, it was a miracle and magic and amazing. But he’d never done very well with questions without answers. He wished he could accept it as easily as Luke and Reggie and Julie had. That it was love or a gift or will power. It didn’t seem very likely, but he wasn’t about to argue it.

They’d been dead. Now they weren’t. It was a miracle.

He might have thought so if he could still hug Willie. But it was like when they’d first met Julie, he reached out to touch his shoulder, his hand, and passed right through him. Alex now knows how Luke felt and kind of feels bad for ever teasing him about. A re-lifer being in love with a ghost is kinda painful. And yet, he can’t seem to stop himself from seeking Willie out. No one’s ever called Alex the smart one.

There’s a sudden crashing sound, wood hitting concrete and Willie letting out a string of curse words and Alex immediately zeros in on him. On the ground. Without really stopping to think about it Alex is up off the bench and running the short distance until he’s next to him by the time Willie has pushed himself up onto his knees.

“Shit are you okay?” He reaches out a hand, to touch his shoulder, to help him up, he doesn’t know. But stops himself short. Because he can’t touch him, and every time that his hand phases through they both look away sadly.

“I’m– yeah I’m good. Had worse spills,” there’s a toothy smile on his face as he says it, but Willie’s eyes have caught on Alex’s still outstretched hand, a sadness flashes across his eyes quickly before vanishing.

Alex just stands there a little awkwardly, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as he watches Willie stand up, wincing a little at some unknown injury – which okay, when he thinks back on it, that should have been his first sign.

“What ha–” Alex starts, but his eyes catch on Willie’s knees and the blood slowly spilling down his leg from a cut. “Shit you’re bleeding! You said you were fine!” He doesn’t mean to sound so accusational, but well, how can he help if no one tells him when they're hurt?

Willie looks at him in confusion before down at his legs, eyes widening at the blood and Alex starts to worry that the other boy might faint. Does he not like the sight of blood? Oh god, he should probably sit down before he gets more hurt.

“Sit down I should have something for it, hang on.” Without thinking, Alex puts his hand on Willie’s shoulder and guides him back down to the ground, to the lip off the end of one of the ramps and makes sure he’s sat before turning his attention to his fanny pack. His fingers catch on a drum stick, a lip balm, one of Julie’s scrunchies, his inhaler, but no ziplock bag of first aid. Shit. He’d left it in Julie’s room, months ago. Because he’d been dead. And hadn’t needed any of it. Fuck.

He looks back at Willie, mouth opening to tell him the bad news, but Willie is already looking at him with wide, scared eyes. He has one hand gripping the side of the ramp and his other is resting over his chest. Over his heart.

“Alex,” he starts and that’s when Alex realises that he doesn’t look scared. It's shock. There’s tears pooling in his eyes and, like a bus hitting him, Alex realises that his hand hadn’t phased through when he’d guided him to sit down.

“You– I– What?” Is all he gets out, which doesn’t make any sense but Willie seems to get it because he nods his head. And then Willie is standing up, hissing a little as he unbends his knee and dimly, Alex is aware that it’s started bleeding a little again, but all that is second to the feeling of Willie carefully, slowly, gently, reaching for his hand. And holding it. Fingers linking. Solid and real and warm. With his other hand Alex reaches for his neck, lays his fingers against soft skin and feels for a pulse. For the fluttering of a heartbeat and lets out a wet laugh when he finds it. He doesn’t know when he started crying, but it doesn’t matter.

Alex uses the hand that Willie is still holding to pull the other boy towards him, lets the fingers on his neck slip around until his arm is around his back, and is pulling him into a hug he’s been craving for a month.

“How?” It’s the first thing Willie says as he pulls away, not far, because Alex had let out a small whine as he’d tried to step away and wasn’t even ashamed of it.

“I have no idea,” he shrugs, because he doesn’t. He has no answers for any of this. But he’s willing to not question it, he decides, if he and the people he loves most in the world get a second chance at life. Together. “I’m starting to not question these things and just say thank you.”

Willie laughs then, a little watery, but still bright and kind and so full of life that no one would have ever known he’d been a ghost a short while ago.

“Fair enough,” they’re still stood close together, hands awkwardly intertwined between them and Alex’s fingers are tangled in his hair. But neither of them make any move to pull away. Willie pulls a face, lips twisting to the side and Alex raises an eyebrow at him, “Where the hell am I going to live now? Caleb already hated that I've been sleeping at the club, he's never gonna let me back in now."

Now it’s Alex’s turn to laugh, shaking his head a little at the question, because at least this one he has an answer too. He detangles his fingers from Willie’s hair carefully and takes a half step away, just enough for him to properly hold his hand, pulling him over to his abandoned skateboard.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to know the coolest girl with the coolest dad who likes to take in stray used to be ghosts.”

Willie picks up his skateboard and when Alex starts to walk, pulls them to a stop, a worried little crease between his brows as he looks at him.

“Are you sure Julie will be cool with me crashing with you all? I don’t want to like, intrude or get in the way.”

“I’m pretty sure she’d re-kill me if I didn’t bring you home with me,” Alex shakes his head, a little fondly and with a little exasperation. But this time, when he starts to walk, pulling Willie along with him, his boyfriend doesn’t stop them. And if this is what unanswered questions gets him, well Alex will learn to live with them.

#julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #willie #willie jatp #alex x willie #jatp #jatp fic #bobby wilson #trevor wilson #wait. what tag do you use for him fuck fgdhjs #rosie vs writing #*#still haven't sorted out a fic master list or a tag should really do that huh #*fics

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carry-the-sky · 4 years

Text

you were a kindness when i was a stranger

summary

“Sleep on it,” Karen tells him. “If you’re still not feeling it by tomorrow, just shoot me a text and let me know.” She cracks a grin. “Don’t worry, there’s a pile of headline-making material sitting on my desk if this falls through.”

Curtis takes her advice and really thinks it over. Ultimately, it comes down to fear—his. And he refuses to let it drag him down. If he can’t practice what he’s preaching, he shouldn’t be running a group at all.

He texts her first thing in the morning: Hi Karen, it’s Curtis. I’m in.

chapter one | chapter two

Curtis got a concussion once as a kid—went headfirst over his bike’s handlebars after taking a corner too fast. Got his bell rung pretty good, even with a helmet. He remembers feeling more dazed than anything, like someone had stuffed his skull with packing peanuts.

Frank Castle showing up out of the blue for the first time in six months has a similar effect.

Frank Castle showing up out of the blue for the first time in months has a similar effect.

Curtis knows he should probably say something, but his head is empty, nothing but static. The words just aren’t there.

Frank pushes to his feet. He looks a hell of a lot calmer than Curtis feels, but then Curtis sees his trigger finger tap-tap-tapping away at his side, and he can’t help but feel a small pinch of satisfaction. Let the bastard sweat a bit—Curtis is the furthest thing from inclined to make this any easier on him.

“How’s it goin’?” Frank says, like they’re just casually catching up over lunch, and Curtis almost laughs aloud. This whole thing is surreal; Frank, here, in one piece. His voice even sounds normal again.

That’s not the only thing that’s different. Curtis can tell that Frank’s face is a little fuller, free of those purple-blue shadows that seem to permanently lurk under his eyes. He’s gone full Pete-beard again, and he’s traded in the black hoodie for a flannel and jeans. He looks—ordinary. If Curtis didn’t know him, he wouldn’t look twice if he passed Frank on the street.

Curtis breathes deep, lets it out nice and slow. “What the hell are you doing here, Frank?”

“Wanted to say hello,” the other man answers, hiking his shoulders slightly. “Figured you wouldn’t shoot me in a church.”

Curtis does laugh at that, clipped and hollow. “Wouldn’t be so sure about that, man. You’re definitely testing my resolve.”

“I know I’m a jackass showin’ up here, Curt—”

“Got that right,” Curtis mutters.

“Hey,” Frank says, voice going a little rough. “Five minutes, yeah? Give me five minutes, and if you wanna throw my ass out after that, you be my guest.”

Curtis shakes his head. “As much as I’d enjoy that, your timing is shit, Frank. I got a reporter from the Bulletin who’s gonna be here any second—”

Frank’s eyes sharpen. “Reporter?”

“Yeah, so if you don’t want your face plastered all over the front page, I suggest you get the hell out of here.”

“Who—”

“Hey, Curtis, sorry I’m a little late. Traffic was terrible—”

Curtis’ eyes snap up. Karen stands in the doorway, frozen as a statue. She’s staring straight at Frank.

Shit. She might recognize him. The beard and flannel are a flimsy smokescreen at best; Frank’s face has graced the front page of that paper of hers more than once. Curtis can almost feel the wheels spinning as his brain kicks into high gear, already working out how to get Frank out of this, how to explain away the fuckin’ Punisher standing here talking to him in the middle of the afternoon. Karen’s a good person, decent, but she’s also good at her job. There’s no way she turns a blind eye to this. He has to think of something—

“Frank,” she breathes.

Curtis’ thoughts grind to a halt.

Because—she clearly does know him, but not in the way Curtis was expecting. The way she says his name, soft with disbelief—

For the second time today, Curtis feels like he’s walked into a fever dream.

He glances at Frank, and the man’s got a busted up expression on his face, like one of those abstract paintings that looks like something and nothing all at once.

“Karen,” he says, voice grating over the word, and shit, he sounds more torn up than he looks. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, choke-off like the words are stuck there—then his jaw locks and his gaze ricochets to the ground, the wall, the ground again. Curtis can see his hands shaking from here.

Whatever the hell this is, it’s way above his pay grade. Curtis shakes his head again and starts unstacking chairs from where they hang against the wall. “You should leave before everyone gets here,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at Karen. She looks like she’s seen a ghost.

He knows the fuckin’ feeling.

“Hey,” Curtis says, and her head snaps in his direction. “We still good?”

Her gaze wobbles, darts to Frank and then back. “Yeah, of course. We’re good.” Slowly, she moves from the doorway, brushing past Frank like he’s not even there.

“Jesus christ,” Frank curses under his breath. He reaches for her. “Karen, this isn’t—”

But whatever he was going to say is lost as voices filter in from the hallway, growing steadily louder. Curtis swallows the bubble of hysterical laughter that’s rising in his throat. This day has already gone sideways; might as well let go and let God, as his pop always used to say.

No one notices Frank, at first. A couple people—Lydia included—greet Karen enthusiastically as they enter the room; the rest settle into the regular routine of milling about at the coffee table.

Rahul is the one who finally spots him. “Pete?” he gapes. “Shit, man, it’s good to see you! Where you been?”

That gets everyone’s attention. Within the span of a few seconds, Frank has about half a dozen people crowding around him, clapping him on the back and peppering him with questions about how he’s doing, what he’s been up to. Frank pastes on a shaky smile and gives the small talk a good effort, but his eyes keep skittering to where Karen’s arranging the chairs in a wide circle. Curtis can’t remember the last time he saw Frank look so uncomfortable; he’s wound tense as a coil, all potential energy with nowhere to go.

Curtis almost feels bad for him. Almost.

“You’re staying for group, right?” someone asks, and this time Frank locks eyes with Curtis.

Curtis shrugs as if to say your call. It’s not like he can throw him out in front of everyone. Beyond that—honestly, he’s relieved. Beneath the layers of hurt and anger is the one thing Curtis has shied away from acknowledging: his fear that maybe this time, Frank stayed dead.

Thankfully, the man seems to have nine lives. And right now, he looks like he’d like nothing more than to sink into the floor and disappear.

Against his better judgment, Curtis throws him a bone.

“Pete just dropped by to say hello. You were on your way out, right?” he asks, fixing Frank with a look that he hopes conveys what he’s thinking: take the hint, man.

There’s a ripple of disappointment, but everyone seems to buy it. Frank threads his way over the Curtis, and his relief is almost palpable.

“Thanks, Curt,” he says.

“You’re running up a hell of a tab, Frank.” Curtis pinches the bridge of his nose, already regretting what he’s about to say. “You remember that bar over on 12th? After group—I’ll give you one hour. And you’re buying.”

Frank smirks. “Fair enough.”

His eyes flick across the room; Karen’s been carefully avoiding looking over here, but it’s like she can feel the weight of his gaze. Curtis sees it, the moment their eyes meet.

Frank’s face opens up like a book, eyes wide and bright. Curtis has never seen him look this vulnerable; even as long as they’ve been friends, he’s always kept the softest parts of himself tucked away. It makes Curtis feel like he’s intruding on something intimate.

Then someone’s saying Karen’s name, and the moment splinters. Frank ducks his head, already sliding the mask back on, and slips out the door.

Group passes uneventfully. The conversation picks up from where they left things last week, and aside from injecting a few questions here and there, Curtis is mostly an observer. If he’s being honest, he really enjoys the weeks he can just sit back and let the group carry itself. Makes him feel like it’s bigger than any one person, like it can go on without him being in the driver’s seat.

Karen is quiet through most of the meeting, definitely more reserved than last week. When the hour is up, she tells Curtis she’ll be in touch, thanks him again for having her, and then manages to duck out before anyone notices she’s gone.

Curtis knows it’s none of his business, but he can’t help wondering who she is to Frank. She’s more than an acquaintance, that much is for damn sure. And Frank clearly cares for her. Curtis lets his curiosity simmer, carrying him all the way from the church to Sal’s dive bar.

Frank’s already there when he arrives. True to his word, he’s ordered the first round; he raises his beer up in greeting as Curtis slides onto the bar stool next to him.

“Got you somethin’ a bit stronger,” Frank says, nodding at Curtis’ glass.

Curtis takes a swig and tastes jack and coke. He glances down at his watch. “You’re on the clock, Frank. One hour.”

Frank huffs out a laugh. “Shit, where do I start?”

“How about Karen?” Curtis says. “What was that back at the church?”

Even in the dim bar light, Frank’s eyes flint over. “Long story.”

“Give me the spark notes version.”

Frank taps his thumb against his beer, pointedly avoiding Curtis’ eyes. Then he pushes back in his seat slightly. “Alright, you win. You remember my trial? Karen was on my legal team. She was the one who started digging into what happened to Maria and the kids. All the shit that’s gone down since then—she got caught up in some of it.”

Curtis takes another drink, processing. “And let me guess, you”—he holds his fingers up as air quotes—“pushed her away to keep her safe.”

Frank tips his beer back, hiding a grin. “Guess I deserved that, huh?”

“You’re one predictable son of a bitch, Frank.” He glances sidelong at his friend. “You gonna apologize to her for whatever it is you did?”

The way Frank’s face falls is answer enough. Curtis knows that expression well; whatever happened between the two of them is eating him up inside.

“I’m tired, Curt,” he finally says, each word ragged. “I’m so goddamn tired. All the blood and bullshit—” Frank’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Woke up one morning just sick of all of it. Started thinking about the kids, about Maria—if they could see me, Curt—”

“Don’t do that to yourself, man,” Curtis cuts in. He knows how fiercely Frank loved his family; hearing him tear himself up wondering what they’d think of him now sits a little funny in his gut.

Frank meets his gaze head on. “I’m sorry, Curtis. I know that might not mean shit anymore, not coming from me, but there it is. All the shit I put you through—I never meant for it to go as far as it did. You gotta know that.”

It’s Curtis’ turn to laugh. “I don’t know that. Hell, sometimes—sometimes it seems like you like it when shit hits the fan. You like being backed into a corner, fighting your way out.”

“Yeah, you might be right about that. Still sorry I dragged you into it.”

They drink in silence for a few minutes. It’s a weeknight, so the bar is mostly quiet, just the low thrum of conversation and a thin crackle of music leaking from the radio behind the bar. Curtis can almost pretend that they’re just two friends catching up over a drink, talking about trivial shit like work and the weather and who’s going to the playoffs.

The thing is, Curtis isn’t quite ready to forgive Frank. It’s gonna take more than one night at Sal’s to mend the rift between them. But maybe Frank’s not looking for forgiveness; maybe what he needs tonight is a friend, a brother. Someone who loves him even when they’re pissed as hell at him.

Curtis thinks he can do that.

“So,” he says, eyeing Frank knowingly. “When’re you gonna call her?”

Frank flicks his eyes over, mouth pinching into a line. “Not too sure Karen wants to hear from me, especially after today.”

Curtis shakes his head. “Thought your wallowing asshole days were behind you, man. It’s time to gather your rosebuds.”

Frank snorts. “Quoting old English poetry at me now, huh?”

“You bet your ass. I live for all that carpe diem shit. You say you hung up the vest, right? You’re done with that? Then prove it. You got one life, Frank, so go live it.”

Frank dips his head to the floor. When he looks up again, his eyes are a little wet. “I’m scared, Curt.”

“Shit, Frank, that’s all anyone is. We’re all scared. The hardest thing to do in this world is live in it.” Curtis reaches over and clasps Frank’s shoulder. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

Frank bobs his head, but Curtis can tell he still can’t quite see it. The man’s been punishing himself for so long; it’s all he thinks he deserves. Curtis has seen enough war and trauma to know that sometimes there’s no coming back from that ledge. Frank has to make that choice himself. He might not be ready yet, but he’s here in this bar instead of out on the streets, and that’s not nothing.

Frank blinks, then tilts his head to squint at Curt’s watch. “Hour’s almost up. Deal’s a deal, yeah?” He slaps a few bills down on the bar and starts to stand.

Curtis holds his almost-empty glass up. “I could go for one more round.”

“Yeah?” Frank asks, and the word cracks a bit.

Curtis feels something loosen up in his chest. “Yeah, man.”

Frank sits back down, and it feels like a step forward.

The article runs a few days later. Karen calls to give him a heads up, but the anticipation still jolts down his spine as he thumbs through the paper to find it. Curtis reads it through once, his throat going a little tight as he reads quotes from the vets about how group feels like a family, how it’s helped them find their way back to normal after coming home. Karen’s writing is the backbone of the whole thing, capturing the group’s essence without bleeding into the melodramatic.

He reads it again, then gives her a call.

“Anything interesting in the paper today?” she says when she answers.

Curtis huffs. “Funny.”

“What did you think?”

“I’m a little overwhelmed,” Curtis admits. “But mostly thrilled that it’s out there. These guys deserve it.”

“Agreed,” Karen says. “And so do you.”

Curtis doesn’t know what to say to that. Group always felt like something he needed to do, a way to reclaim his trauma instead of succumbing to it. He’s never needed or wanted any recognition for it.

“Thanks, Karen,” he finally manages. “And hey, if you ever need something to do on Thursdays, you know where to find us.”

“Even after last week?” She says it lightly enough, but even over the phone Curtis hears the slight strain in her voice. “I felt awful for leaving so quickly.”

“Hey, I get it. Bit of an exciting day.”

She laughs dryly. “You could say that.” A pause, and then— “Do you and Frank keep in touch, or—” she cuts off, and for a second Curtis wonders if the call dropped. “Shit, I’m sorry. That was completely unprofessional. Forget I said anything.”

Curtis knows he should leave it at that, but the tinge of resignation in her words is all too familiar. He remembers what he told Frank all those months ago, hoping this time it might sink in. Disappointed but unsurprised when it didn’t.

People are gonna care about you whether you want them to or not, Frank.

Karen’s one of the good ones. He knows that Frank knows it, too—and maybe that’s what pushes him to say something now, his better judgment be damned.

“Look, Karen, if I’m overstepping, you tell me to shove it, but—until last week, I hadn’t seen or heard from Frank in months. I know what it’s like to worry about the guy—hell, I wanted him to come back so I could kick his ass myself.”

That pulls a small laugh from the other end of the phone. “Get in line.”

“Yeah, so you get it,” Curtis says through a grin. “I love Frank like a brother, but the man drives me batshit more often than not.”

Karen sighs softly. “I want more for him, you know? More than—whatever the hell he thinks he’s doing out there.”

“I think, deep down, below all the bullshit—I think he wants that, too.”

Silence stretches over the line. “You’re a good friend,” Karen finally says. “It’s nice to know that Frank has one of those.”

“Hey, likewise,” Curtis replies, and he means it. He’s not sure he’ll ever forgive Frank if he lets this woman slip through his grasp.

“I’ll see you around?”

“Absolutely. I’m serious about group—don’t be a stranger.”

Curtis hangs up feeling lighter than he has in weeks. He’s still tempering his expectations for Frank—they’ve been down this road before—but maybe there’s a way out of the woods. Maybe they can both get back to the business of living.

He doesn’t put much stock in new-age bullshit like manifestation or destiny, but it does feel a little prophetic when Frank texts him later that afternoon: Nice article.

Yeah, I thought so, Curtis types back, followed up with a rose emoji just to see if Frank will take the bait.

He doesn’t have to wait long. His phone buzzes after a few seconds, and Curtis laughs when he reads Frank’s response, knowing the hit landed.

Shut up, Curt.

“—telling you, man, it’s a classic.”

“Yeah, maybe if you’re a middle-aged white lady.”

“Excuse me?” Lydia counters, spreading her arms. “Do I look middle-aged or white to you?”

Rahul just shrugs and leans back in his seat. The conversation tonight had started simply enough before quickly devolving into an argument about books, of all things. Lydia had offered up a few that resonate with her, one of them being Pride and Prejudice. Rahul had looked at her like she was an alien, and now here they are.

“If it helps, I’ve read it too,” Curt cuts in. “I’ll admit it’s a little dense at first, but it’s a classic for a reason. Ultimately, it’s about acceptance. Not judging someone before you’ve gotten a chance to know them. That’s something all of us in this room can relate to, right?”

There are some begrudging nods, but Rahul shakes his head. “Nah, man. No way some English lady who lived, like, a hundred years ago knows anything about my life.”

Lydia scowls, but Curtis holds up a hand. “That’s a valid opinion. But I bet if you gave it a chance, you’d be surprised.”

“You talking about Jane Austen again, Curt?”

Heads swivel toward the source of the sound, and Curtis looks up to see Frank walking through the door. He pulls a chair off the rack and slides between Rahul and Lydia. “Sorry I’m late. And uh, for the record—her novels are the good shit.”

“Not you too, man,” Rahul groans.

“Got me through one of my first tours,” Frank replies. He gestures at Curtis. “This guy wouldn’t stop talking my ear off about it, so I finally took the damn thing just to shut him up. Stayed up half the night reading it. Curtis knows his shit.”

Curtis feels himself smiling. “Good to have you back, Pete.”

It is. It really is.

Frank makes the rounds after group, catching up with all the vets he knew from before and even chatting with some of the newer members. Curtis catches Lydia fist-bumping him, and he almost shakes his head in disbelief. If someone had told him two weeks ago that Frank would be here, in this room, smiling and making small talk, he would’ve laughed right in their face.

“Hey, man,” Rahul says, walking up to him. His face goes a little sheepish. “So, uh, if you have that book on you—”

Curtis blinks. “You’re really gonna give it a shot?”

Rahul shrugs. “Yeah, I mean—you and Pete both think it’s, like, God’s gift to literature, or whatever, so how bad can it be?” He glances over his shoulder surreptitiously. “Just don’t tell Lydia, yeah?”

Curt claps him on the back. “Deal. I’ll bring it next week.”

Rahul nods, then jerks his head in the direction of the door. “Hey, did you see who’s here?”

Curtis frowns, peering over Rahul’s head in that direction—

Karen is standing beside Frank, her head thrown back in laughter at something that Lydia has said. She’s in her work clothes, but her hair looks a little glossier, and she’s definitely wearing lipstick. Curtis watches as Frank brings his hand to the small of her back in a gesture that’s effortless, like this isn’t the first time he’s done it.

Gather your rosebuds, Frank.

The bastard really did it. Curtis hadn’t realized how badly he wanted this for him—something to live for after the war was over. Now it’s happening right in front of him, unfolding in real time. It makes his chest ache a little.

Karen catches Curtis’ eye and gently peels herself away. “Long time no see,” she says, coming up to him. “I would’ve been here tonight, but Ellison’s got us working overtime on this city councilman thing.”

Curtis nods. He’s heard a few things through the grapevine—embezzlement in the councilman’s office, real original—and he wondered if Karen would be following it. “Back to making headlines?” he quips.

“Maybe just one more,” Karen laughs.

Curtis tips his head in Frank’s direction. “So, guess he finally pulled his head out of his ass.”

Karen follows his gaze. The look on her face is in direct contrast to the one Frank was wearing last week, love and hope and so much warmth. It’s all the answer Curtis needs.

“About damn time,” he says.

Karen’s mouth curves into a soft smile. “No argument there. Hey, we were going to grab dinner at that new Thai place on 7th—you’re welcome to come with, if you’re not busy.”

Curtis considers it for a second, but the last thing he wants to be for either of them is a third wheel. They deserve some time for themselves. He has all the time in the world to give Frank shit about this; he’ll let him have one night of peace.

“Let me take a raincheck,” he says. “Next week sometime?”

“Next week is perfect,” Karen replies. “See you then.”

The other vets are trickling out now, waving and calling out goodbyes over their shoulder. Karen makes her way back over to Frank, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. She leans in to say something in his ear, and he casts a glance back at Curtis.

Curtis bobs his head once, and Frank returns the gesture, mouth creasing into a smile; then he turns and follows Karen out the door.

Curtis watches him leave, thinking he’s never been more happy to do so.

#kastle #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #kastlechristmas #kastlechristmas2k20 #superrpowerlesshuman #my fic

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