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rubyreduji · 2 years

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french fries and first times — ljh

summary: you’re a call girl and your client is a virgin

tags: smut (minors dni!), some fluff, minor angst, shy virgin!jihoon, sex worker!reader warnings: explicit sex, praise, reader is a power bottom, age gap, lowkey…small dick!jihoon (but not really), oral (m. receiving), soft sex wc: 4.2k an: like all of my other fics i DONT KNOW HOW TO END THIS PROPERLY but i might expand on it more because i kinda love this universe i randomly thought of before going to bed lol anyways idk if this is a taboo topic…but oh well ig

Saturday. 9pm. Pledis Inn Motel. Room 204. Ask the front desk for the key under the name Woozi. Everything will be prepaid.

That’s all the information you know about your next appointment.

You got the call a couple of days ago and you didn’t question it. It was how most of the interactions go when setting up appointments. Sometimes the client will ask you to do specific things for them. Be wearing this. Have this ready. Call me this the whole time. But this one just left the place and the time and that’s good enough for you.

You have your bag of goodies tucked under your arm as you walk into the front office of the motel. The worker has shaggy black hair and looks up at you bored when you approach. If he knows what you’re here for he doesn’t look surprised.

“There should be a key for me here under Woozi. Room 204.”

The man simply just flicks through the pile of keys on the desk and hands you the right one. You thank him before leaving and going up the stairs to the room. It’s a basic mediocre motel room. There’s a dresser, a TV, a night stand, a small table with two chairs, a connecting bathroom, and of course, a bed. It’s been a while since you’ve been in a motel, your clients typically putting you up in penthouses, but you don’t mind, it’s nothing you haven’t done before.

You set your bag down on the bed and start to get ready for the night. You already showered at your own apartment before coming so you start to strip naked to put on your lingerie. You chose a red lace two piece with a garter belt and matching red heels. You throw on a silk robe over it and put your bag down beside the bed.

By the time you’re finished the clock reads 8:52 and you slide onto the bed and pick up your phone to wait until it’s time. After five more minutes there’s a knock on the door and you climb off the bed to go answer it.

When you open the door you come face to face with a small, pale boy with red wavy hair and shaved sides.

“Uh hi, are you Y/N-”

“Are you Woozi? Oh! Sorry, haha, yes I’m Y/N, but I can be whoever you want me to be tonight.” You wink before stepping aside so that Woozi can walk into the room.

You both seem to silently size each other up. He’s shorter than you, especially in your heels, but it’s not the first time you’ve been taller than a client. His face is smooth and young looking and he has an innocent air to him. You can tell by the way he stands that he’s a bit shy and insecure, clueing you in that he’s not one to do something like this. He’s just in black pants and a black t-shirt and even through his clothes you can tell his body is on the more petite side. Most of your clients are older, wealthy men so you’re surprised to have a client so young and innocent looking.

You walk over to the bed and sit on the edge. “Do you mind if I take my heels off? Or is that something you’re into?” You purr, getting into your work persona.

“Oh uh, whatever makes you most comfortable.” Woozi shifts around so he can face you, but he doesn’t meet your eye when answering.

“I’m fine either way darling, this is about what you want.”

“Then you can uh, take them off I guess.”

“Okay.” You reach down to take the heels off, flashing your cleavage at the boy. Out of the corner of your eye you see his head whip around to look at the wall, meaning he definitely saw. You kick your heels off and scoot up the bed more so you can rest your back on the headboard. “So Woozi, what are you looking for tonight?”

“Jihoon. You can call me uh, Jihoon. That’s my real name,” he tells you.

“I see. Well Jihoon, why don’t you come sit by me.” You pat the bed next to you and Jihoon looks to be contemplating the idea before he gently slides his own shoes off and climbs onto the bed. “Tell me, what do you want from me tonight?” You place your hand gently on his thigh and he jumps a bit and you go to remove your hand but he stops you.

“No! You’re, you’re okay.” You only nod and place your hand back. “I’m just looking to uh, have sex? I don’t know…”

“Don’t worry about it baby. How about we just start slow?” Jihoon nods and you smile softly at him.

You bring your free hand up to cup his jaw and make him look at you. When you see he’s not pulling away you lean in to kiss him. He seems a bit taken aback but he doesn’t pull away. You move your lips against his and he tries to do the same. His technique is a bit sloppy, and his teeth keep grazing your lip but you don’t stop him.

His lips are full and press against yours firmly. Almost a little too firmly, but maybe it’s just his kissing style. His nose bumps into yours and you giggle a bit. Jihoon gets scared though and pulls away. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh baby, there’s nothing to be sorry about. You’re doing just fine.” You bring your hand up to bury it into his hair. With the assurance Jihoon seems relaxed again and you pull him back into the kiss. This time he’s a bit more eager and you return the energy.

Jihoon’s hand lands on your waist, pulling you closer. His other hand cups your neck to guide you into the kiss more. The way he kisses you is more tender than any of your other clients. You shift and climb into his lap so you can straddle his legs. Your robe rides up your thighs, revealing your panties, and you gently grind down on Jihoon’s jeans. Jihoon gasps into your mouth and his hips buck up into you. You take this opportunity to stick your tongue into his mouth and you feel him groan around your tongue. His own tongue tangles with yours and you deepen the kiss.

After a couple more minutes of heavy making out you’re starting to feel uncomfortable down below and you want more. It’s difficult for a client to get you this aroused but Jihoon seems different than the others. You reach down between your bodies to untie your robe and let it slip off your shoulders.

With your lingerie exposed Jihoon’s mouth falls open as he stares at you. His fingers twitch slightly and he trails them up your torso, stopping just below your breasts.

“It’s okay baby, you can touch.” You lightly grab his wrists and lift his hands up so they cup your breasts. His hands grab at you experimentally and when you seem receptive to the touch he grabs you more firmly. The attention to your breasts has your pussy leaking more and you grind your hips down again.

“S-shit,” Jihoon mutters. You can feel his cock harden more and you decide that you want him in you. You reach down to palm at his dick and his breath gets shaky as his hips buck up into your hand. “Y-Y/N,” he whines.

“Want you,” you mutter as you move your lips down to his neck. You kiss the warm skin and wish you could leave marks on him, but you’ve found your clients don’t like that much. You’re starting to get impatient and you pull away and go to unbutton his pants but Jihoon flinches away from you.

“No!” He quickly scrambles off the bed and you stare up at him.

“I’m so sorry!” You quickly apologize. That’s a first. You’ve never had a client tell you no before while you’re reaching into their pants.

“No, I’m sorry,” Jihoon mutters. He slumps down onto the bed, head in his hands.

“Hey…we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you assure him.

“Arrghh, I want to though,” Jihoon tells you, his voice muffled from his hands.

“Hmmm. Well I’m hungry, so I’m going to DoorDash McDonalds. Do you want anything?”

That’s how you and Jihoon end up sitting at the dingy motel table eating french fries and burgers. You’ve loosely tied your robe back on and you pop another fry into your mouth as you stare at Jihoon. You chew thoughtfully as you try to assess him.

“So what’s your deal kid?”

“K-kid?!” He looks offended at the playful title.

You chuckle at this. “You’re what? Eighteen? Nineteen?”

He sticks his nose up. “I’m twenty. About to be twenty-one.”

“See, you’re just a kid,” you say with a smile playing at your lips.

“Well how old are you?”

“You shouldn’t ask a lady her age, you know,” you tease. “But if you’re oh so curious, I’m just recently twenty-five.”

“Four years isn’t nearly enough to call me kid,” Jihoon huffs.

“Whatever you say kid.” Jihoon glares at you but you grin at him, his face too adorable to find him intimidating. “So what do you do for a living? You in college?”

“Uhm yeah, to become a music producer. I’m also a singer-songwriter but I’m focused mostly on producing,” he tells you.

“Oh that’s nice. I can’t sing for shit.”

“What about you?” Jihoon asks.

“What about me?” You laugh a bit.

“Did you go to college?”

“Oh baby, I wouldn’t be doing this if I did,” you say and it seems to remind Jihoon the real reason he’s in the motel room with you. “No, I didn't go to college. I don’t think it would have done me much good anyways. Not too talented in any area.”

“Oh…” Jihoon is staring down at his carton of fries now. He slowly picks one up and eats it.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s…hard, but what else can I do?” You shrug. You’ve accepted your fate a long time ago.

“How long have you been doing this?” Jihoon asks you.

“Oh you don’t want to know that,” you brush him off. He looks at you though and the look in his eye tells you that he actually does. You sigh. “I was your age actually. I was still living in my parents house and could not keep a stable job. Being young, and female, and not having a college education really hurts being able to find a good paying job. Once I hit twenty my parents kicked me out of the house so you know.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jihoon whispers.

“Hey, enough about me. I’m doing okay, I promise. Now why don’t you tell me what’s up with you?”

“I’m uh, nervous,” he admits. He’s back to staring at his fries. “I’ve never- I’m a virgin.”

“Oh.” Out of all of your years of being a sex worker, you’ve never had a client who’s a virgin before. You typically get old sleazy men or young married guys, but never virgins. It makes sense, considering his behaviors, but a part of you just assumed he’s never been with a sex worker before. “We don’t have to do anything. I won’t charge you.”

“No, I want to.” He sounds firm when he speaks, but his body language still reads that he’s unsure. “I’m almost twenty-one, it’s time I finally have sex. Hell, I hadn’t even kissed anyone until tonight!”

“You shouldn’t be pressured to do anything. Who cares what society thinks?”

“No, I want to do this, I know I do. It’s just that…nobody ever wants to with me so-”

“So you paid me to. Ah, Jihoon, you don’t want me to be your first time. I’m just some random call girl. You shouldn’t do something you’re going to regret,” you tell him. “I’m going to refund you, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

“N-no! I want to. I promise. I’m tired of waiting.”

“Fine, but I’m still refunding you.”

“No! This is your job, it’s not fair of me to not pay you.”

“Well too bad, because I’m doing it no matter what.”

Jihoon can sense you’re more stubborn than he is and he sighs. “Why?”

“Because I want to,” you shrug. “Because even if you don’t care, I do, and I want your first time to be special. You deserve to sleep with someone who wants to sleep with you, not because you’re paying them. I want to sleep with you Jihoon, and not out of pity, or because you’re paying me, because I want to.” Jihoon blushes at your words and looks away from you. You reach over to grab his chin so he can look at you. “Do you want me?”

Jihoon is nodding quickly, desire filling his eyes. “Yes!”

“Mmm, good boy. Now if you’re ready, let’s get back to what we were at, right?” You wink at him before you stand up and drop your robe. Just like the first time Jihoon can’t help but stare at your figure and you smirk. You saunter back over to the bed and crawl onto it, your ass pointed towards Jihoon as you do.

Jihoon follows and clambers onto the bed a lot less gracefully than you. Once you two are back on top of the covers you grab Jihoon’s chin again and lean over to kiss him. His hands find your body and pull you closer. Your palm comes down to his crotch and you rub at his boner. You pull your mouth away from Jihoon and ignore the way you love how he whimpers when you do.

“Is there anything else you need to tell me before we do this? Because if not I’m going to suck your dick.”

Jihoon flushes at your forwardness and his hips buck up once more. “I’m uh,” he looks away embarrassed, “my dick is…small.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at this but your face relaxes again. “That’s okay baby, size really doesn’t matter. Big dicks hurt too much anyways. Anything else?”

“I’m afraid I’m gonna…cum too fast,” Jihoon tells you in a small voice.

“No shame in that, just means I’m doing something right.” As you two talk your hand still gently rubs at him. Your desire gets the best of you and you brush your thumb over his collarbone. “Can I mark you?”

“Y-yes,” Jihoon says. You smile at this.

“Can I suck you off now?”

“Please,” Jihoon whimpers.

“Just sit back baby, I’ll take care of you.”

Your hands move to swiftly unbutton his jeans. You pull them down his legs and he helps you kick them off all the way. Underneath his pants he has on a pair of checkered boxers and you can see the way his hard-on presses into the fabric.

You palm at him again and a small wet patch starts to form against the article of clothing. You bring your mouth down to his neck and start to suck at the pale skin. Your hand pushes under his shirt and up his torso. His skin is warm and soft under your fingertip. You pull your mouth away from Jihoon’s neck so you can pull his shirt over his head. His body is lithe but there’s still a bit of muscle definition under his skin. His body is smooth and pale all over and you want to mark every inch of him. Your hand grabs at him tighter and your mouth starts to suck a bruise into his sternum.

When you’re pleased with how much Jihoon is withering under you, your fingers dip under the waistband of his boxers. You grab his length and pull it out and you gasp when it’s finally visible.

“Holy shit Jihoon, you are not small.” His dick is average in length, about five inches or so, but his girth is thick. You could kind of tell just from touching him through his clothes but with it in full view you can see just how thick he really is.

“Y-you don’t have to, ahhh shit, lie,” Jihoon says, his speech getting cut off when you grip him tightly.

“I’m not! You’re fucking thick as hell. Fuck this is so hot.” You pump him in your fist and Jihoon’s hips wriggle around. You bend down and stick your tongue out to lick at his slit, his pre-cum coating your tongue.

“Y-Y/N!” Jihoon’s hands bury themselves into your hair.

“Taste good Jihoonie,” you mutter. You kiss up and down his shaft, sucking a bit as you go. Finally after teasing him, you open your mouth up and sink your mouth down onto Jihoon’s dick. You loosen your throat and shove his whole length down your esophagus. Your lips wrap around his base and you start to suck.

Jihoon is moaning above you and his hands shove you down even farther. Your tongue presses against the underside of his shaft and you bob your head the best you can.

“Ah, ah, shit. Ngghh, fuck!” Jihoon shouts and he dumps his load down his load right down your throat. You suck him dry before pulling off, swallowing the rest of his cum after you do. You catch your breath before smiling up at Jihoon.

“How was that?”

“Holy shit Y/N,” Jihoon mutters. “That was so hot.”

You lick your lips. “Thanks. You were super hot too.”

“I wanna touch you,” he blurts out.

“Oh? Well come here then.”

Jihoon scrambles towards you but stops when he’s close. His hands hover close to your body but don’t touch, like he’s not sure what to do yet. You giggle slightly and reach behind you to undo your bra. With your tits out in the open, Jihoon's eyes widen as he stares back at your rosy nipples.

“Oh my god,” you hear Jihoon whisper. Shakily his hands reach up to grope at your boobs. Your supple flesh melds to the shape of his hands as he touches you and you can see his dick already twitching again. Jihoon cups the underside of one of your boobs and brings his mouth down to suck on it.

“Oh~” you moan at the feeling of his hot, wet mouth against your skin. While he sucks at your tit his other hand leaves your breast to reach between your legs. He rubs two fingers against your slit through your panties and you can feel how wet the fabric is when he presses it into you.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters against your breast. “It’s so warm, and wet.”

“Because of you Hoonie,” you say. “Mmm, please touch me more. Need it.”

Jihoon slips two fingers into you and you moan. His hands are sloppy as they move inside of you but just the mere pressure of them pushing against you makes you feel good. He keeps pumping his fingers into you as he sucks on your tits. None of your clients have ever done this before, but you guess Jihoon isn’t a client anymore.

“Need more, need your dick,” you tell. Your pussy is drenched now, your slick running down Jihoon’s hand.

“O-okay,” Jihoon says. You can tell he’s still a bit nervous but wants you just as much as you want him. He pulls away from you and gets off the bed. You see him fumbling around with his pants before he produces a condom from one of his pockets. You move around so you’re laying on the bed properly and you slide your panties off as he rolls the rubber onto his shaft.

“Shit Y/N,” Jihoon says when he looks back at you. Your legs are spread enough that he has a full view of your slick, pink pussy. He crawls on the bed and lines his dick up to your entrance. “I’m not too sure how good at this I’ll be,” he tells you.

“You’re fine, if it’s bad I’ll just take over and ride you,” you say. He flushes pink at this which makes you grin.

Gently, Jihoon pushes into you. Your pussy is willing and wet so he’s able to slide right into you all the way. Jihoon groans at the way your walls suck him in.

“F-fuck. I’m really not gonna last long.”

Slowly he starts to move his hips, sliding his cock in and out of you. His pace is unstable and painfully slow. You shift around in the bed and grab his hips. “You uh, need to go faster. Pick up a steady rhythm, okay?”

“Oh…okay.” After you say that Jihoon’s thrusts hit more on beat. You two stay like that for a while but you start to feel awkward, as Jihoon is more focused on his thrusts than anything else.

“Jihoon.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Can you- uh, just come here.” You pull his body from its hovering position down so you can kiss him. His body relaxes more into yours and he understands what you’re trying to say. He brings one of his hands down to cup your waist and braces himself on his knee so his other hand can grab the nape of your neck.

As your lips clash against his, his hips start to pick up pace. You can tell Jihoon is a novice at this, but you don’t mind at all. You break away from him so you can place your mouth on his bare shoulder. You suck the soft skin into your mouth so you can bite at it. Jihoon lets out small pants as you abuse the plush flesh.

You can tell Jihoon is prolonging his orgasm so he doesn’t embarrass himself. A part of you also thinks he wants you to feel pleasure as well. You two continue your efforts as you run your hands over each other’s skin, trying to stimulate as much of the body as you can.

Jihoon is whimpering into your neck as his hips rut into you. His whole body is nearly resting on yours and his hand is gripped tightly onto your shoulder. His other arm braces himself, his hand entangled with yours. Your free hand is buried tightly in his hair, holding his head in your neck. Your leg is wrapped around his body helping guide his hips. Jihoon’s whimpers go straight to your core and you decide that you never want the sound to end.

As a sex worker you often bring pleasure to people but it’s never been like this before. Your bodies are fully entangled, warm skin pressing against warm skin. Jihoon’s body is littered with purple bruises that you sucked into him, your lips puffy from kissing his body over and over again. It feels intimate.

Ever since you switched from being a street worker to a call girl you’ve had a lot more intimate moments with your clients, even getting to know some of the men who called on your services regularly, but nothing has ever been like this.

It’s different with Jihoon. Everything is different with him.

“Shit Jihoon,” you mutter when his cock hits into you at just the right angle. “Right there, again.” Jihoon complies and you feel yourself getting closer. “Jihoon, need you to touch me.”

“T-touch you?”

“Y-yeah, like this.” You gently remove that hand that’s digging into your shoulder and move it down between your bodies. You straighten out two of his fingers and then press them into your clit. You see the recognition on his face as he feels the bud. He starts to play with it and elation spreads throughout your body.

“Y/N, I’m gonna cum,” Jihoon says hurriedly. “Oh shit.” You feel his hips stutter inside of you and the warmth of his cum through the condom as he dumps his load into the rubber. His hips don’t stop though and his finger keeps working at you until you’re clenching down and arching your back against the bed. You cum on Jihoon’s dick, his name falling from your mouth as he does. When you’re fully blissed out and have come down from the height of your climax, Jihoon pulls out of you. He slumps down on the bed, panting.

“How was that?” You ask breathlessly.

“So good,” Jihoon tells you. “Shit Y/N. God you’re so…wow.” You giggle at this.

“I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever got.”

“Ugh, this is gross,” Jihoon mutters as he pulls the condom off. He ties it off and throws it into the trash can, still from the bed. You’re surprised he makes the shot. He looks over at you. “Do you uh, need anything? Aftercare and all that, right?”

You giggle again. “I think I’m good for right now. But if you want, you should come closer.” Jihoon obliges and you rest your head on his chest, listening to the way his heart thumps. “Thank you for that.”

“I should be the one thanking you.” His words vibrate his chest and it ripples through your skull as he speaks.

“Maybe, but I’m still thanking you. I haven’t had someone treat me that nice…in a really long time.”

Jihoon tenses a bit under you. “You deserve better Y/N.” His hand comes to cup the back of your neck, holding you close to him, like he’s trying to protect you from all of the harms in your life.

Deep down you know Jihoon is right, you do deserve a better life. Though, as you lay in the boy’s secure arms, you think that if life sent you someone like Jihoon, it couldn’t be too bad.

taglist: @pandorashbox @leejihoonownsmyheart @soonhoonietrash @enhacolor @niktwazny303

join my taglist: here!

#rru.fics #seventeen #svt #woozi #lee jihoon #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #woozi smut #woozi fanfic #woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #woozi x reader #svt woozi #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #rru.writes #★ mdni

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wosemi-sama · 1 year

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"i shall checkmate you!" 🎶

hello hello!! you may know me from my main blog, @nostalgic-muffins but i have now started a writing blog! this is only a side blog but i wanted to write on this one, rather then my main so now this is a thing lol

requests: OPEN!!!!! dont be shy and to send me requests! i will be more then happy to take em (also i might take a while to fulfill ur request bc i happen to be the worlds #1 procrastinator so keep that in mind!)

if ya dont know me from my main, then hello and welcome! im lorelai but i also go by other names such as nene, ren, and moose

ill be writing x reader for proseka and niji en. but wait, theres more! i started playing obey me in august and the boys have been rotating in my brain a lot, so i accept obm requests now!

rules for that lol:

no nsfw!!!!!! im uncomfortable w it and id rather leave it to the professionals lol

headcanons, fluff, angst, and oneshots and stuff like that r allowed!!

uhhhhhhh idk how to write comfort btw

would rather invade denmark instead of holding hands? no worries, i gotchu because i also take platonic requests!

i might turn down some reqs if i dont watch the liver often/ havent read that character's story yet (i am very lazy and havent paid attention to mmj, l/n, and i still havent finished n25 story)

im a girl but any pronouns r alright (she/he r what im most comfortable with!)

if theres sum thats writing but isnt x reader, itll be tagged with "a letter from yours truly!💌" anything under that tag will also be lowercase intentionally, as it feel more true to me compared to my x reader works!

if theres sum thats not writing, itll be tagged with "nene's non-mail posts!!💌"

if theres sum that is x reader, it'll be tagged with "youve got mail! wanna open it?💌"

anything thats sent to me in my inbox will be tagged with "nene's inbox 📬"

ill be writing for every prsk chara!!(if i can)

list of livers ill be writing for(if they get requested):

(☆ = theyre my oshi! ill probably be able to write them ok)

Elira Pendora

Pomu Rainpuff

Selen Tatsuki

Rosemi Lovelock

Enna Alouette

Luca Kaneshiro

Ike Eveland

Shu Yamino

Alban Knox [☆]

Fulgur Ovid

Uki Violetta

Sonny Brisko

Kyo Kaneko [☆]

Maria Marionette

Aia Amare

Aster Arcadia

Scarle Yonaguni

Ren Zotto

Doppio Dropscythe [☆]

Kotoka Torahime

Ver Vermillion

if a liver isnt included, its because i dont watch them a lot and wont be able to write them well. in millie's case... why would i-!?

thank you!! ill try my best to please you with my mediocre writing lol

all dividers i use here r made by the lovely @//cafekitsune !! (images of the characters r usually official art i cropped myself c:)

past layouts: rosemi lovelock (made by me!)

current layout: minori hanasato (made by hiddencircus here on tumblr!)

-nene (the rizzard)

"i shall escort you!" 🎶

#project sekai #nijisanji en #project sekai x reader #niji en #nijien #nijisanji #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en x reader #nene's non-mail posts!!💌#youve got mail! wanna open it?💌

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silasbug · 2 years

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tags

general reposts:

stuff i make:

#bug.art - my art, quality varies wildly

#bug.wip - doodles/WIPs/unfinished art

#bug.mp3 - lil audio blurbs, maybe some very mediocre singing/ukulele/kalimba

personal tags (just as a self-reference):

#personal / #bug.txt (06.2023 onwards) - anything from me (ramblings, thoughts, ideas, some photography maybe, etc.)

#dream log - dream journal tag

#journal entry - longer, personal posts relating to life (usually as readmores)

#to myself - things i want myself to keep in mind, pick-me-ups, wisdoms, etc.

#favorite - stuff i really like (dont really use this one)

#bug’s gross gremlin - my cat

#bug answers - answered asks

#personal #favorite

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mania-sama · 4 months

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rule #12 - through the tides

Rule #12 - Through the Tides - Fish in a Birdcage

Voltron Pairings - Hunk & Lance & Pidge Tags - shark attack, amputation, surfing, surfer! lance, no voltron lions au, blood and injury, harm to animals (the shark had it coming), hurt no comfort, nonbinary! pidge, gore Summary - Lance just wants to surf, but it seems like a creature of the sea has different plans in mind. Word Count - 1,837 Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own Whumptober 2023 - Day 16: Amputation See my full Whumptober 2023 Challenge on Tumblr or Ao3

Author Note:

this is inspired by a VERY specific fanart of lance and shiro (not ship i dont think) where shiro is trying to comfort a crying lance, who is staring horrifiedly at his amputated arm. the nub has obvious shark bites, and the whole work is so compelling bc its like lance was hurt by the thing he loves THE MOST in the world (or that the fandom has assigned to him anyway) and nobody can understand his pain but shiro, who is also an amputee.

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT. I CANT FIND IT. i cant find the fucking fanart. its gone. if any loser reads this fic and happens to have the fanart somewhere. link me to it. or dm me on instagram or twitter. i am desperate. i am so utterly desperate idk what to do with myself

also faintly inspired by barbie's "a mermaid tale" but thats only because the only references i have to surfing are the movie and Teen Beach Movie and im gonna be honest, this is not like teen beach movie at all

The ocean is Lance’s happy place. When he sets his feet in the cold salt water, the tension in his body from the day or week flows out of him like how the ocean waves ebb against the shore. His feet sink into the sand and seep between his toes. It’s a natural massage to work out his anxieties. The breeze rushes off the horizon, tossing his hair and cooling the sweat on his forehead.

He stares at the glittering sun in the midday sun. It brings him relaxation and adrenaline all at once; the water lapping his ankles is his calming massage, but the waves crashing further ahead call his name as though they are a crowd of excited fans. Lance doesn’t surf professionally, preferring to keep his hobbies and his career separate, but that doesn’t mean he won’t get a rush from the beachgoers watching him tackle the unforgiving ocean.

He adjusts the board under his arm and takes a deep breath. He spares one glance over his shoulder at his friends waiting on the safe sand. Hunk waves at him enthusiastically from where he’s building an already impressive sand castle considering they only arrived ten or so minutes ago, and Pidge smiles from their lounge chair. Their massive umbrella protects their fair skin from burning at the slightest touch of the sun.

Lance turns back to face the waves. A big wave builds in the distance, too far for Lance to get to in time. It’s a promise of a thrilling challenge yet to come. He doesn’t waste any longer and strides out to join the people swimming out in the ocean.

The chill of the ocean is a fresh of breath air to him. Most people — Pidge — complain about the bite and sudden cold, but Lance has never been able to understand that reaction. It’s like a mint for bad breath, a shower after toiling in the mud, and a payday after two weeks of hard labor. He embraces the slap of the crystalline water as though it’s an old friend, which in some ways, it is.

He hoists himself stomach-first onto the board and drifts when his feet can no longer touch the ground. He’ll propel himself now and again to keep moving in the right direction, but for the most part, he stays stagnant on the water. Waves come and go as they please; a good one is harder to catch than a mediocre one, and a gnarly wave is the rarest of them all. Unfortunately, Lance is in the mood for something huge to make the adrenaline rushing through his veins worth it, so he has to wait a long time.

Honestly, it’s not so bad. As long as he’s in the ocean, he can’t feel the edges of impatience creeping up on him. The sound of the water’s ever-constant movement is a melody to his ears and a remedy for his greed. He can stare for hours at the way the sun reflects off the water in dazzling bursts of light. It’s a phenomenon that can’t be replicated even if all of history’s best painters rose from the dead to collaborate on recreating the scene.

It can’t capture the smell of salt and seaweed, the gentle caress of the water on his hands and calves, or the happy people screaming and splashing each other in the distance. Seagulls circle overhead and dive when they find a fish straying too close to the surface, or they find a human to harass for bread and chips. The heat of the day burns on Lance’s tanned skin, unrelenting even as the thin clouds attempt to diminish its power.

It’s Heaven on Earth. Michelangelo could never hope to replicate it.

Lance spies a wave rippling in the distance. The water ripples, and the frequency of the sloshes near his board change. His heart picks up pace, and his arms start working to get closer to the rising wall. After years of surfing, he can easily tell which waves will end in a disappointing, diffused heap, and which ones will create a loop so large Lance can stand inside.

A shadow overcasts the water that the wave rises over, and the rush of the moving water overpowers the loud beachgoers closer to shore. His world narrows to him, the wave, and his board. Lance forces his board and himself underneath the wave, the ocean completely encasing him in sea water. He stays there for a moment, salt and water burning his eyes and flowing against his closed lips. The sounds of the surface world are muffled, and he can only distinctly hear the gushing water.

When he’s about to break the surface, he spots a form under the water. Lance has had close encounters with sea creatures before — fish, crabs, jellyfish, and other rather unfriendly animals that didn’t appreciate a human traversing their home. He’s never been upset when they pinch, bite, or sting; he is the trespasser. The ocean is not his home.

He’s been near sharks before but in every single instance, it was in a more or less controlled environment. The sharks were small, freshwater, and used to human presence. Experienced divers kept their noses and teeth from ever getting within biting distance.

In the split second after, he breaks the surface with his board clutched in a white-knuckled grip. All he can see now is the very tip of the shark’s gray fin coming straight towards him.

“Shark!” He screams as loud as he can, and he climbs onto his board as quickly as he can. The wave is still moving, on the brink of collapsing in the great surge he’s been waiting for. They travel fast, faster than he hopes the shark is willing to go to keep up with him. It’s not going to be the surf that he wanted, but by God is it going to be the one he’s going to get. It’s ride-or-die, literally.

Hazily, he hears the blow of whistles and the revving of the lifeguards’ waterskis. His heart beats too hard in his chest, and it nearly overpowers the sounds of the restless ocean. His board wobbles underneath him, threatening to knock him off with the slightest misstep. He knows it's the panic setting into him that’s throwing him off but his running mind can’t help but associate it with the shark moving in the depths below him.

The shark produces a massive shadow underneath his board and rocks Lance off-balance. It’s slippery from being completely under the water, and his tingling feet prevent him from a steady grip. His arms flail in the area to pull him back on the center of the board.

He’s still screaming his head off when he falls. It’s not completely off — his body is still on, but his hips straddle the board and his legs plunge into the ocean. He tries to pull them back up, but he notices the wave has left him behind.

Then pain explodes in his right leg.

He thrashes against the board, attempting to use his full body weight to dislodge the shark off his leg. But it holds fast. Lance can see its body as more than just a shadow, now. Its nose sticks out of the water, and its huge body moves back and forth with all of the effort it has to pull him underneath the waves.

Lance can hardly think past the bite, how it sears his leg in the worst agony he’s ever felt. He’s been burned, stabbed in a fight, beaten to a bloody pulp, yet nothing compares to this. His skin rips and tears under the huge, sharp teeth of the shark. It takes all of his core strength to keep on the board and not tip over, which means leaning on the other side. It’s taking off his leg, it’s taking off his leg, but he has to sacrifice it if he wants to survive.

Blood comes up in smokey waves to pool around him and the shark, mixing with the white steaks and bubbles created by their fight. Lance lets go only temporarily to punch the animal directly in the nose, which actually gets it to let go. Its body torques and thrashes in the water. Lance uses the short opportunity to bring his leg onto his board.

Except it doesn’t come out of the water. His knee comes up, but the space where his calf and foot should be is occupied by the overflowing pour of blood and flesh. Tendrils of the tendons the shark couldn’t get ahold of swing in the open air. His white bone peaks out from his knee, a small numb in comparison to the long bone that should continue the skeleton.

He screams, and he screams when the shark launches to finish the job, and he’s still screaming when a pair of hands hoist him off of his board and out the shark’s bloody, snapping jaw. Its beady eyes flash in the open air, staring directly at its prey before it flops under the water once more. It breaks his board in half from the crash of its massive body directly down the center.

Lance’s voice is hoarse, and his sobs are uncontrollable as he stares at his leg. Or rather, the absence of it. It throbs like it's still there. The pink and red bits of his flesh fly off in the wind from the speed of the jet ski. The lifeguard is saying something to him, but he can’t hear it over the engine of the machine and the static in his ears.

He’s never going to surf again. He’s never going to be able to walk on his right leg again. Not as flesh and bone, but as a wooden peg, metal, a machine, nothing but the air. It should still be there. He can still feel it. Parts of it remain; his liquid and solid insides still flow and burst into the area where it should be. It should be there.

But it’s not, and it’s unbearably painful and all he can do is sob as the pain overtakes all of his senses. Salt flies into the gaping wound, filling up the space where his leg should be.

Where his leg isn’t. Where it never will be.

He’s sobbing when the paramedics drag him into the waiting ambulance, and he’s reduced to whimpers as the sheer pain overrides his consciousness. Hunk cries with him and holds his hand, and Pidge can’t seem to stop screaming, either.

He passes out thinking about his leg. How it’s gone and never coming back. but still hurts all the same, still mocks him in its presentation of being real and attached to his body. He sees the pink, pulsing flesh peeling from his knee in thick strips behind his eyelids. He feels the warm, blood-infested water, and stares into the gaping jaws of the shark that claimed his leg.

Then, the deep, watery darkness of unconsciousness.

#voltron #voltron fanfic #vld #vld fanfic #lance mcclain #vld lance #voltron lance #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #ai less whumptober #whumptober fic #whumptober #whumptober2023

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sajaffery · 8 months

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..3....

there has to be a better title availible then that? I have to continue the series I suppose but i’m not officially blocked anymore. i dont think i am. i’m writing everyday, its shit, but its still writing. so im not a blocked writer anymore I’m just a shit writer now. its still progress if you ask me, eventually i’ll progress to being a mediocre writer and then i’ll die. because everyone dies and because the next step up is a good writer and to predict myself becoming a great writer would be immodest and i’m nothing if not modest. i broke another rule didnt i. i promised to write one of these everyday and i havent. this is my first...post (yech) in a week nearly. maybe two weeks. I cant remember now, i would have to go back to the old posts and then i would have broken two rules. technically the first one isnt a rule. it was a promise I guess. a mission statement if you think i’m a ponce, which you probably do, but if you do then you wont have reached this part yet, you would have clicked onto something else by now, in which case fuck you (dont worry its only there for dramatic effect), even though i dont blame you i can still hate you. i dont really, i just wanted to get rid of you and if you havent clicked off by now you will definietely will now. if you havent then youre just a glutton for punishment in which case welcome brother! have seat, let me get you a drink because we are gonna get along just fine. I’m adding hastags onto this so we’ll be able to find more people just like us, S&M seems to be a popular tag but i wont be adding that, i have enough weirdos following me who only seem to be intrested in half naked man. sorry new message from tumblr. i have no followers. awsome! i am so glad, freedom at last! i can finally be myself. i can finally let go and speak my mind. its so easy to say that but if i really think about it it can be exteremely confusing because it will essentially depend on where my mind is at that particular moment becuase there will be times i will just feel like screaming and shouting at and everything and everyone (which will be no one since it is the only time i wll truly let this happen) and other times there will essentially be no noticable change in me at all. except my clothes will come off ofcourse. of course! who in their right mind would possibly choose to remain clothed if they didnt have to. i totally understand people who move to naked communes and choose to spend the rest of their lives with all their bits hanging out. clothes are just another form of prison arnt they? a confinement designed to make you self concious of yourr real self. to hold you in and keep you hidden from the real word. why havent i moved to a naked commune uet? its fair questuon there are plenty of them around arnt there? atleast i think there are, thats certainly the impression television gives you. everyother person seems to be oving to a naked comune in bad movies and rubbish television shows. i dont wwatch bad movies and rubbish tv mind you, i just like keeping up with whats happening. sort ofna of like a cautionary....oh shit shit fuck fuck fuckity mutherfucker! my fucking laptopn just froze so i had to hold on kickeing and screaming to my train of thought in the fear that i might losee it have nothing to talk to you about, like that i bit i just wrote a little while ago about the state of your mind and when youll see a difference while letting go. that was so boring, i apologise for that, i wish i could delete it, but i cant ofcourse, see previous posts for details as to why, i wish there was a way to just put up a cautionary sign when you come onto this......webpage...(it is not a blog mutherfucker!) oh comon! my fucking laptop keeps freezing.

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peterrrei · 1 year

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What’s your writing and drawing process?

oh hi thank u for the little question even though its very hard to think of a coherent reply 🤧

i will say for writing, i’m not really confident with it yet because it’s been years since i wrote fiction and not just translations for uni and stuff… so yeah i just think… “i really want to read this scenario” and since it’s hardly out there bc there arent many english speaking writers in charmuro tag and i have read most of it anyway i just write the thing in a way that can satisfy my craving <:3c

it could be mediocre but who cares we only live once be self indulgent write that fic… 🫶🏻

as in the act of writing i just think “wouldn’t it fucked up if…” and play around with the funniest/worst scenarios! its fun… i really think writing characters interacting in different ways is so fun… would they say that? how would they say it? and just trying to describe what’s happening with actions and glimpses of thoughts and stuff… if i read it to you out loud can you imagine the characters breathing and doing their things… sorry I am rambling. so yeah… idk if im being too vague ive been doing this for like 2 months idk idk

as for drawing well it’s the same process but i’m faster and more confident with it and my wrist hates me <3

i usually sketch different ideas together like for future me that doesnt feel like sketching and just wants to color things. then i go crazy with it. (rough sketch -> better sketch -> color with neutral like um standard? colors with different hues similar to what i have in mind -> go crazy with gradient maps -> adjust -> thats it!)

really sometimes we stop from creating things we want to see bc we think we dont have the right skills but who cares. draw that thing. only draw it bc you want to see it though 🥹

anfkahfk i dont know if you wanted to know something more specific im sorry anon lmk

#sorry if this does not make sense im a little high and i watched fallen angels for the first time and it made me very emotional :’)

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wingcased · 2 years

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gimme gimme a facken break

listen to me. it is hot. i’m in la. i’m alone. working. a job. alone. in an apartment. alone. foodless. microwaveless. ramenless. my dinner tonight was a blueberry muffin and guava soda. there’s something in the air of a campus apartment that’s been moved into a week too early that makes its inhabitants unable to truly experience the adrenaline waiting behind the first day back to school. i’m bored. i haven’t even been here 24 hours and i feel.. like.. i’m pacing around in my cage.

one: the facken ac. i’m not a tech savvy guy. i learned how to use the tumblr tags after existing on this site for well over four years. i don’t know how to work the ac. it was 83 degrees (F) when i entered and i managed to let it creep up 2 degrees by pushing random buttons. not even decade old youtube videos could help meee. it’s tolerable if you’re sitting and hardly breathing or existing but if you do anything else it’s like you’re gonna explode. this experience has been after the sun has set - mind you - and it’ll surely be much warmer tomorrow (eye twitches)

two: i, in much less than a shirt and jeans, repaired the bath tub faucet. i was just doing shid, really. the faucet was making this crazy funky noise every time i turned on the water, which, on any given day, would still be intolerable for me. so you see why i simply could not shower if the noise went on. i had to fix the noise before any showering took place. so, with my rubber gloves and tub cleaner i was able to lubricate whatever it was exactly that needed lubricating and got the water flowing from the shower head without any extra commentary from the faucet below.

three: it was not until i resolved the faucet issue, stepped into the shower naked, and lathered shampoo into my hair that i realized i did not have a tool with which to scrub my body. i took a mediocre shower, cleaning myself as best my hands could, and dutifully made note to stop by the store tomorrow to pick up a (gestures) loofer.

four: tried to use amazon fresh but i hate that stchewpid site and also they dont sell loofers which defeated the entire purpose of the less-than-2-hour delivery. i’ll walk to the store at high noon tomorrow and carry milk and eggs back to my resting place like any other tia. i need one of those little carts.

five: when i opened my housing portal to submit a maintenance request i noticed that in the area where my roommates should be listed, there were no names. i’m as reclusive as the next guy. i want people to think i’m cool and mysterious, sure. HOW THE FACK CAN I DO THAT WITH NO ROOMMATES. praying that it’s just a glitch and my compañeras will arrive some time this week...i’ll be quite miserable if i live here all alone for the entire year. i’m the kind of guy who sacrifices his eyes to the soap on his face just to confirm that the hash-slinging slasher is not standing behind him.. gad. hopefully i’ll make some friends through class though. i’m counting on making some friends through class this sem.

it’s currently 9pm and i’ll be drifting off to sleep soon so i can wake up as early as i need to in order to get to work on time and my fingers are crossed that campus maintenance will come to my rescue by the time i get back to the apartment coz i’ve got errands to run and will die if i come back to an 85 degree living space. 85 degrees given the current variables* tomorrow’s afternoon temp is not a controlled variable (smiles) (lip twitches)

#listening to gimme gimme as a result of swimming through meryl streep's wiki page #i didn't know she and sigourney weaver went to yale together #diary

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milkpansa-archive · 2 years

Photo

b o n u s

for the darlings 1/∞ - @actually-yikes 💙

#bad buddy #bad buddy the series #pran parakul #pat jindapat #patpran #pranpat #ohm pawat #nanon korapat #tosnimeat #usernuria #userkit #userbillkin #userconcrete #hipranparakul #ftd #zzarchive #sora 💙#hope you all dont mind me tagging you!!! i figured you'd all enjoy bb content. mediocre as it is </3 #sora my love!!!!! this is me feeling bad for still not having written you your fic #sorry my mind is too tired to think these days but you're still getting it i promise. i'll make sure it's good #so in the mean time have these ridiculously mediocre gifs of the beginning of what i hope is still your fave bb scene #if this isn't your fave scene anymore i have failed even more and pls judge me #because i deserve it #also!!#sorry these look a bit meh. night/dark scenes are forever my enemy and also. i'm a baby gifmaker so yeah. this is all i can do unfortunately #anyways i adore you. hope this at least makes you smile a bit!! bye lovely <3

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wiemczasami · 4 years

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housewife blues.

#my art #fanart #sdv penny #eyestrain #eyesore #bright colours #stardew valley #stardew penny #draws stardew characters fucked up and evil :]#sorry for doing that actually bc stardew is such a nice game and im here being edgy #horror #horror implication #idk how to tag this so that ppl who dont want to see this wont #anyway i just have... thots abt penny.. like her 'main' interest is cooking and shes canonically terrible at it #and despite liking reading she never has much thoughts abt it. do u think she wants to b a writer but since elliot is known for that and #'better' than her she gave up on that #ud think she want to leave the town the most but shes just kinda resigned staying in the town forever and at most wishing for a nicer house #it just makes me sad and hits so personally i just hhh give her more lore #do i have a whole narrative in mind for penny in my head? yeas...#penny's mediocre adventures

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vvideonasties · 4 years

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hello....i wrote some jonmartin and its my first tma fic so please be nice if you do read it. its sweet and nothing bad happens. u can find it here

#im too scared to tag it #just take it #if any of my followers listen to the podcast and dont mind mediocre writing. this is for u

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hanniiesuckle17 · 3 years

Text

Blue Skies Chpt 13: Loopholes

A/n: This chapter is dedicated to my baby Luna. I’ll try and get another chapter out tonight but i dont know if ill get to do a chapter tomorrow. Ive got some essays and reading to do for college. Tag List is open <3

Tag List: @woodiegochile @mini-meanhoe @leggomylino @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @hoes4hoseok @jeonqqin @geminirules @mrsunshine999 @jisungsjheekies @hannie-squirrel00 @cotccotc @kodzu-ken @konenichi @yangs-jeongin @binniebutter @orangegyu @little-precious-baby

Blue Skies TL: @etherealyoonghwa @yoheyyosup @too-becontinuedside @gayliljoong @empenguin01 @hannahdinse8 @moon8894 @r000l

Summary: Y/n and Hongjoong were only acquaintances in college. They were on the same dance team but never crossed paths until one day both took notice of the other. One magical night after a party resulted in Y/n leaving with a guilty and angry conscious and surprisingly a blue stick. Three years later, Hongjoong is a hit producer and Y/n is a successful single mom. What happens when their paths cross yet again?

☁

Y/n’s POV

“Will you please stop pacing?” Yeosang groaned from your couch. He had been nice enough to pick you up from the bar since you were too tired to drive at five am. Your friend was laying on your sofa, one leg propped up over the back and he other hanging off the end.

It was now 2:51 PM. It had not only been twenty-two hours since you had seen your son, but the last time you had heard from Hongjoong was when he said goodbye as you got off the train. Not one text or call from him was received all night. With your son’s crazy track record you were worried he might have accidentally killed his own father.

“You think he’s okay, right?” Biting the last nail off your right pinkie, you stared at the door.

“Yes. Minjun is totally fine. You don’t have to worry.” Not hearing any response, your friend took the decorative pillow off his face. Feeling nervous under his piercing stare, you switched hands and started chewing on the next available nail. “You weren’t talking about Minjun.....were you, Y/n?”

“Whaaaaat?” Immediately you knew the high pitch of your voice gave you away.

“Why the fuck are you worried about that asshole?”

“Okay- first of all- Hongjoong is not an asshole. Second of all......” You were severly struggling to come up with a reason why at this moment you were more worried about a man you were trying to be friends with than your three year old son. A thought came to mind and you snapped your fingers with a smile. “I don’t want to get sued by KQ Entertainment for the accidental manslaughter of their top producer.”

Yeosang scoffed and pushed himself into a sitting position. “I can’t believe this.” His next thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. You didn’t stay to hear him finish. The knob of your front door was turning under your hand faster than you thought your own body could move.

Opening the door you were greeted with a relieving sight. Hongjoong has Minjun in his arms, the boy resting on his hip. His fluffy mop of blonde hair was stuffed under a gray beanie, letting you see the sharp lines of the man’s face. “Hey! Sorry we’re late, I could not figure out which apartment was yours.”

You shrugged your shoulders acting as if there wasn’t a two inch track burned by your pacing into the mediocre carpet of your living room. “No, it’s fine.”

“No it wasn’t. She was freaking out.”

Hongjoong’s brows furrowed hearing a voice come from behind you. “Oh- sorry...I thought you were going to be alone...”

Eyes wide, you were quick to explain the situation. “It’s just Yeosang. He drove me home this morning and I let him crash here.” He nodded, peering past you and throwing your friend a judging look. “He was just leaving.”

Yeosang got off the couch, grabbing his jacket. “You need a ride again, just call me.” He said giving you a half hug and shoulder checking Hongjoong on the way out.

“Do you wanna come in?” Your voice tugged the producer’s focus back to you and away from the retreating form of your best friend. He nodded, adjusting the weight Minjun was putting on his hip. After you closed the door he set his son down and the boy immediately ran off to his room. “Min- you aren’t gonna say-....nope he’s gone. Sorry about that.”

The man smiled sending a warm feeling into your chest. His slender fingers pulled off the beanie and tossed it onto the sofa. “It’s fine. He’s probably just excited to be back.”

“I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble.”

You could tell by the look in Hongjoong’s eyes that he was reliving what you could only describe as chaos given your past experience. Instead of saying what was on his mind he put on a kind smile and shrugged. “He was a perfect angel.”

“He wrecked your place?”

“Oh yeah, I cannot live there anymore.” Another silence fell between you. The only sound in the apartment came from Minjun’s bedroom, probably a cartoon he was watching. Hongjoong broke the tension. “Are you sure you aren’t dating Yeosang?”

“I swear. Why?”

He shrugged taking a step closer. “I don’t know I just get a weird vibe from him.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s just his less than pleasant personality. You’re friend’s with San. You understand.” Pride swelled as a laugh bubbled out of his lips. The way he looked at you filled you with a happy glow. “Why are you so bothered by Sang anyway?”

A frustrated sigh heaved from his chest. “I just don’t like seeing you with other guys. Not after I just got you back.” A shiver rolled down your spine as his fingers brushed over your arm.

“Sang is just Sang. You don’t have to be worried about him.”

“Is there anyone else I should be worried about?”

“No,”

The space between you and Hongjoong had decreased enormously. “So, no one is going to get mad at me if I do this?” He leaned in like he as going to kiss you, stopping only inches away from your mouth. Lacking words, you simply shook your head. The man listed his head, blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Good,” He whispered.

The moment he kissed you all the breath was stolen from your lungs. Your knees felt weak and no amount of alcohol could ever replace the blissful feeling of his lips on yours. His hands were cool, slipping under the hem of your shirt and holding onto your waist. It felt like thousand butterflies were thundering against the walls of your stomach. Your hands ran through his hair and you felt Hongjoong smile into the kiss. As he pulled away your bottom lip was dragged between his teeth.

“That was way better than anything I remembered,” He muttered leaning back in for another kiss. Then it hit you.

“Oh shit.”

“What?” Hongjoong pulled away, scared he went too far. “What’s wrong?”

“We broke the rules!”

You were only confused when the man in front of you laughed, pulling you in for another tantalizing kiss. “No where in our five rules did we say anything about kissing,” he breathed over your lips. “Loophole.” He sang.

You were not about to argue with him. Not when kissing him felt like coming up for air after drowning. You had never felt like you were ever in the right place until now.

“Please let me take you out on real date,” He pulled away, looking you in the eyes. He sighed when you shook your head.

Hongjoong leaned into your touch feeling your hands fall down to his cheeks. “No way. Then we really can’t be friends.”

“Lemme get this straight. I can make out with you all I want, but I can’t take you to dinner?”

“Loopholes, am I right?”

In defeat, he let his head fall back and a frustrated groan left his lips. When he looked back up it was obvious an idea was forming in his brain. “MINJUN, YOU WANNA GO OUT FOR DINNER?!” He cheerfully yelled into the apartment. Turning you saw your son’s head peep out from his room. Hongjoong smirked, “It’s not a date if our son comes along.”

The little boy toddled out from his room and attached himself to your leg. “Hey, bud, why don’t you tell your mom about all the fun we had last night.” With a reluctant smile, you left Hongjoong’s arms to get your bag and shoes.

“Mommy, I turned Yunho hyung blu-” Before he could finish his small voice turned muffled and you turned to find his father’s hand over his mouth, the gray beanie in his other hand.

“If you don’t tell her that I promise I’ll let you dye daddy’s hair next time, okay?” The kid nodded excitedly before turning to you with a innocent and quiet smile. “Let’s go to dinner shall we?” Holding his son’s hand, he started walking towards the door, taking yours in his other.

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hes-writer · 4 years

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Reign (3)

Summary: harry sees something he's supposed to have

Warnings: angst in the beginning, angst in the middle, angst near the end

Word Count: 4881 words

A/N: @devilinbetweenthesheet-s : dont cheat and don’t do drugs, kids

Tarnish (1) . Halo (2) . Reign (3) . Trial (4) .

Errors (5) . Ruin (6) . Crumble (7)

Error Taglist

____

A writer that cannot write is dead.

When one loses the ability to tell their stories and anecdotes through the mere action of swirling words together to create an imaginable atmosphere of real-world fantasy; they are dead. A writer recovering from the mundane and mediocre way of penning experiences to bounce back into what they used to be is difficult. It is easier to free fall and drown in the depths of despair. The moment thoughts and rumination fog up to form a blurry image of conviction is a warning sign, blaring at the back of their minds and sometimes even in their faces.

Harry is a writer--or, he was. Picking up the pen to style the words lingering in his head used to be as easy as blinking; quick and natural. Now, the words claw at the swell of his throat, trying to spit an adjective to describe the way he felt. It was at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be lathed into existence. It did not matter if his cognition was mingled with various chemicals aimed to be able to feel happiness.

He was sober but he had trouble placing his finger on why it was so strenuous to narrate his feelings throughout the breakup. Being high or drunk was never the answer for him. Weed made him tired and made him have a case of cottonmouth. Harry learned from a young age that he should only ever engage with alcohol if he was in a mindset and setting that catered to increase existing good vibes. He thought that maybe he was in an odd phase of perceiving the opposite, and so he intoxicated himself enough to understand that it didn’t matter if he was soaked head-to-toe in sobriety or whizzed out of his mind by the amber liquid swirling in the glass in his hand. But that wasn’t the circumstance. It also didn’t matter if he was grasping his favourite pen to write--because it was comfortable--or tapping his calloused thumbs against his phone keypad. Hell, it didn’t make a difference when he sat down and prepared his typewriter to indulge in a headspace of vintage songwriting. Maybe that would help.

It didn’t.

He had stories to tell. Everything was laid out in misty overcast yet Harry’s great ideas morphed into gentle mistakes, harsh mistakes and discoveries that had him almost ripping his hair out of the roots of his scalp. When he felt the wave of his ocean-thoughts rise and peek where the sand shifted, his fingers were ready to move and discern for the eyes to see. But with each fritter, he couldn’t seem to get even two paragraphs in to decide that it was utter shit.

Harry was old enough to understand that slumping on the wet sand was a part of life. Sometimes picking up a fistful of grains and throwing them back to the sea was a great way to release frustration. But it seemed like this plunge of his ability to write was a hole of quicksand. He was trying his hardest to displace himself as swiftly as possible but it only made his scenario worse. The muddy sand clung unto his legs like sticky glue, heftier with each effort to leave. He wanted to move on. He wanted to forget everything that occurred in the past four years. Harry wanted to erase Y/N from his life because she wasn’t around anymore to bring those memories back to sparkly existence.

What he needed to do was nestle himself into a certain depth, calmly, in order to pull a limb out and ensure that his progress on the so-called ‘moving on’ did not have any drawbacks. Until then, he cannot possibly create songs that he was well-known for if he wasn’t patient enough.

He wanted so badly to tell his side of the story. Harry craved to think as clearly as he did when he told Y/N about his plan for their future. Admitting to his feelings was a hard route. Sure, he can be vulnerable but it took a great deal of convincing on his part to immerse himself in the deepest parts of his brain to understand why he felt the way he did. He usually had the means of songwriting to help him out but that obviously wasn’t working out that good for him.

___

Harry was packing the rest of Y/N’s things in boxes to be picked up later in the afternoon. He was annoyed at first at how she depended on him to fold her clothes properly instead of doing the bundle of the work herself. But he guessed that she didn’t want to be around him for longer than she had to. To be frank, he also did not want to indulge in what might turn into an argument if they spoke about the reason for their breakup. It was just a bit confusing because he had an urge to still want her around despite their less than likely situation.

Torture. If Harry had one chance to describe the way he felt right now; it was torture. With every nook of Y/N’s side of the closet emptying into brown, cardboard boxes--he physically how much she had integrated her life with his. How much space she took up in his life. How his clothes and her clothes were so interchanged between them that he couldn’t decide if the gray pull-over was actually his or hers. And in a moment of selfishness did he tuck it away for his safe-keeping despite seeing the tag imprinted on the inside; a shop that he hadn’t set foot in so it was a guarantee that it was hers.

Her scent embedded in the thin threads of each fabric wafted to his nose; each with a new wave of memories engulfing his senses as if each piece garnered a specific scent tailored to a specific event. Like her sunflower sundress--it smelled of fresh flowers as if the print was a scratch and sniff that released a fragrance. Or their DIY-ed tie-dye shirt of pastel blue and cotton candy pink. It was a matching piece made out of the cheap dye and a simple white tee but it was theirs. Things like these made Harry want to yell in frustration because every time he thought that he was completely over her-- Y/N appears out of visibly nowhere and towers over him.

Seeing her for the first time in days was a breath of relief. She looked fine. Glowing even, and Harry did not know what to make of it. As sadistic as it sounded, he was expecting dry-stained tears and a birds’ nest of hair trampling her head. Instead, Y/N was dressed for comfort in her baggy jeans and an even looser sweater covering her body. Her lips were drawn in a thin line, giving him a nod in greeting as he gestured to the boxes littering the floor.

Harry offered to help--it was the least he could do. And somehow, silence protruded from the tense atmosphere, begging to be cut by a knife yielded through their voices nipping at each others’ emotions.

“Let go of my damn hand,” Y/N stated, her hard stare could turn Harry into stone. He just wanted her to listen before she left.

He shook his head in denial of her request, tightening his grip further. “No. Listen to me, Y/N,”

“What do you possibly have to say that will change anything between us?”

And maybe it was her fault for assuming that he wanted to fix things. The sliver of hope thinly dressed behind closed lids enabled her to think that maybe he was going to say that he wanted to make things work again. That he had broken up with Camille and he realized what a stupid he had done throwing away everything they built up to for the past four years for an affair that couldn’t quench the thirst of his desire to have a family.

Harry sighed, a shadow of mischievous smirk painted on his lips. But maybe it was Y/N’s sight in deception because she could never see Harry as anything other than sweet and kind Harry incapable of hurting a fly.

“What? I don’t intend to. We’re broken. We’re beyond fixing,”

The hitch in her breath was as sharp as the stare he was searing her with. Forcing her to please understand that this would be their last conversation--if time and fate were on their side. “You’re not something I would take the time to handle,”

“Stop saying shit you don’t mean, Harry” Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance. His macho act was barely an act and more like a stage curtain easily pushed with a flick of a wrist.

“Things I don’t mean?”

“You heard me,” She crossed her arms over his chest in defence, leaning against the closed trunk. “Say what you will but our love was real. Don’t make me seem like I’m crazy. Don’t tell me that I’m a mistake,” Her voice was filled with confidence because she knew the affection that Harry diffused.

The cradles of his palm at the small of her back when they had to walk past a crowd. The subtle graze of the back of his fingers caressing the bare skin of her arm. Kisses pressed to her temple as she read a novel and swirling fingertips twirling her hair. These were acts of love that happened nearly every day in their relationship. A routine that felt different if it wasn’t done to or with each other.

Exasperatedly, Harry felt the same itching crawling up his spine. His ego ballooning into a delicate size and one more word from Y/N’s lush lips would have him on his hands and knees, begging for her back.

“This, us, was a fuckin’ mistake,” Harry’s accent thunked heavily in her cochlea, practically spitting the words out of his mouth as if they were poisonous. Ringed fingers gesticulated the space between them to emphasize how much of a misunderstanding they truly were. “I should’ve known the second things went further than planned,”

Y/N felt her heart drop to her full stomach. The feeling so nauseating that she instinctively palmed her belly over the fabric to protect her little baby from his harsh words. Even though they weren’t directed towards anyone but Y/N. She didn’t think that their unborn child deserved scrutiny from their own father.

“You don’t mean that, Harry.”

Because how could he? Not when he emulated sincerity through his syrupy voice. Not when he spent hours loving on her tummy and spoke to it like he would if she were pregnant. Especially not when every kiss from him felt like a buzz of electricity coursing through her veins because he was the main distributor of her happiness.

Harry truly was an asshole for making her hope and wonder of what the future held when he was unsure himself. He did want a family. That was a statement in all its truthfulness. What he wasn’t sure about was if he wanted a family with Y/N. He could have a family; kids of his own in his own time. But Y/N didn’t have to necessarily be the mother. So was he besotted with the concept of family and marriage regardless of who it was with?

“But I do,”

The rain started drizzling in frequent spurts, planting a fat droplet on her cheek that could be argued as a tear escaping Y/N’s eye. It hurt a lot to hear that from him. The man of her dreams blatantly denying each sugary word because his plans had changed.

“You’re a goddamn mistake is what you are,’

“Why are you. . .saying all these things to me? Are you trying to hurt me?” The shakiness of Y/N’s tone had Harry swallowing his words down his strep throat.

He shook his head in disagreement, “No, I’m not. ‘M just tryna make you see my side. So you can understand,” His head dipped to the side, softening his tone yet stern as though he was speaking to a child.

And that was one of the reasons why Y/N didn’t believe his all-too stoic demeanour about her. Harry was great at making others see his side regardless of how much in the wrong he was.

So why was he struggling?

___

Needless to say, he wasn’t very respectful towards Y/N any other time afterwards. He had unblocked her number months after blocking it at one point and demanded answers that he didn’t have the right to know. In retrospect, Harry was embarrassed by the way he acted. He did cheat on her and suddenly he was a saint because she moved on quicker than he thought she would? Unbelievable.

In his defence, the night he became the drunk caller was the same night he fought with Camille about having children; having a family they can call their own. Ever since that discussion did Harry notice a dispatch in their relationship. It was like they were aware of a missing link that had disappeared in their connection, but neither one of them wanted to be the one to bring it up. Harry supposed that now that Camille knew what he wanted (and vice versa)--she was feeling the pressure of giving in to him. Don’t get him wrong, Harry absolutely wanted a family and he thought that Camille was the right partner to build it with. However, he couldn’t help the voice at the back of his mind slyly whispering that he had forced her to give him what he wanted for the sake of saving their failing relationship.

___

It had been two and a half years since he mildly and miserably accepted that his dream family was being erased like a pencil on paper.

The first year; Harry still clung to the obscure hope that Camille might change her mind of having kids. Many fights sprouted between the two of them concluding in them sleeping at different places for weeks on end until they eventually crawled back to each other like an invisible string. The second-year; Harry brought up the idea of adoption. It was a hard choice for him as he desperately wanted kids of his own. A boy that looked like him and his love or a little girl that smiled at him with deep dimples mirroring his own.

And Harry liked to think that he was just on the edge of convincing Camille to consider the option when his tour was scheduled a few months after. A new dealbreaker was that Harry wasn’t going to be around much to watch and nurture the little bub they might’ve adopted. It was a sudden intrusion to think about since Harry was good with kids. He knew that. That was why he had three godchildren of his own. But what hit him the most was how sure Camille sounded when she yelled at him about leaving for months at a time and returning for a bit, only to leave again. Now, Harry hadn’t considered that part. But surely he will be ready to choose between a family and his career, right? When the time comes, he thought.

___

It pained Harry to admit that his relationship with Camille was dwindling down the drain. The knowledge that there was no future--the one that Harry envisioned--for them was getting more and more real each passing day.

A late-night grocery trip was one of the many examples that had Harry rethinking his actions for the past couple of years. It was the time period where night owls arose and barely any customers littered the aisles. Still, Harry made sure to keep his hoodie up to shield his face.

Camille had an early flight to Milan in just a few hours later that day and she wanted to purchase some things to bring with her; in case they weren’t available in the country. So here they were at three in the morning.

As Camille walked ahead of him in her sweatpants and a plain tee, Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes flicker to the clothing section to his right The first-floor space was decorated with pastel blues and pinks; a stroller was displayed with a price would not make a dent in Harry’s bank account.

“‘M just gonna grab somethin’ over here, Cam,” Harry muttered as he pointed a thumb behind him. She nodded, “Meet me at the produce? Need to get you some fruits,”

Harry felt guilt thudding his chest because although he was losing feelings he thought were written in stone, Camille appeared to care for him the same way she always had.

He walked to the brightly lit area, puffing his cheek as a cute onesie caught his eye, “You’re so golden” with the word ‘golden’ printed in a shiny, yellow glimmer. He smiled at the thought of baby angel cooing at him as he tickled her tummy. Harry passed by the shoes next, picking up a pair barely the size of his palm. His mind flashed back to a conversation with Y/N years ago,

___

“I’m just saying,” Y/N took a bite of a pickle she held on her left hand, “Baby shoes have no business being that expensive,”

Harry chuckled from his place across the counter, “Babies need shoes too, love,’

She grabbed her fork and stabbed a piece of strawberry from her bowl, “I didn’t say the don’t need shoes. For tiny things, they could at least be a bit cheaper,”

Harry watched as she munched on a pickle on her left and took a bite of a strawberry on the other. His tongue poked out in a gag at the odd combination, resorting in glare and a huff from Y/N.

“You should try it instead of judging me,’

“No, thank you. Watching you eat it is enough for me,’

___

Harry craned his head at each aisle, hoping to find Camille and to distract himself from the endless Y/N related thoughts that somehow returned to his brain. He needed his girlfriend to remind him that he cannot just knock on Y/N’s door and ask her about the baby she has. If he could hold them for a bit because his baby fever was through the roof.

Locating the produce section, Harry whistled mindlessly as he searched for a blonde head of hair, failing to notice that there was a basket in front of his feet. He had kicked it, jolting him out of his thoughts in a hurry.

A man with brown hair sporting an outfit similar to his (sweats and a hoodie), chuckled at him as Harry leaned down to retrieve the gray basket filled with a jar of pickles.

“Sorry man,” Harry muttered, holding the handles up for the man to carry.

“It’s alright, it happens,” The guy had not seen his face yet, too busy inspecting the carton of strawberries.

He decided to continue the conversation, “Strawberries and pickles? Odd combo, huh,” Harry was briefly reminded of Y/N’s obsession with the two rival products.

“Yeah, m’lady loves ‘em. Had a craving in the middle of the night. She’s in the car right now with our lil bubba,”

Harry’s heart fluttered at the mention of a baby. He needed to get his rails in check. He cannot keep having his heart bursting with adoration at the mere mention of a baby.

“I’m Connor,” He said, finally facing Harry after choosing the best carton.

“I'm--,”

“Harry!” Both men turned their heads towards Camille carrying a basket full fruits and green veggies, “Got you some stuff to blend for your smoothies,”

Connor squinted his eyes at the couple and Harry internally screamed because he knew that he and Camille had been recognized. “Harry. Yeah, I know you,” The sudden hostility made Harry confused as Connor grasped his basket from him in a harsh manner, heading towards the checkout.

The rest of the time inside the store was filled with curiosities as Harry carried the paper bags towards the car, barely recognizing Connor’s figure heading towards his own vehicle. Luckily, Harry has parked only a few slots away and could inconspicuously watch Connor and his so-called ‘lady’.

Except, Camille was ushering him to hurry up as she still had a few things to pack at home.

___

On most days, Harry was used to waking up alone. Used to feeling the shiver crawling up his side, used to seeing the indent left by Camille’s body instead of her. He had grown familiar with the sudden cast of loneliness blanketing him thicker than the duvet on top of his body.

The early morning trip to the store had tired him out, paired with the overthinking of the man named ‘Connor’ that flipped his attitude towards him quicker than he could kick the grey basket with his feet. He flopped back to the mattress after washing his face and brushing his teeth. It was noon when he jolted out of bed again at the sound of his front door opening, voices filling the empty space that had Harry running towards the foyer in case there was an intruder.

His tense shoulders sagged in relief when he caught sight of his mum and Gemma, “Oh, s’just you guys,”

Both women looked up at him at the top of the stairs, “You forgot we were coming over for the weekend, didn’t you?” Gemma teased as she headed to the living room. Harry followed, walking down the stairs.

He scratched the nape of his neck nervously, “No. . . “

“Can you help me reach this, H?” Anne called out from the kitchen.

His mum gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Yes, you did, by the way. Slept through the whole morning. Good thing Camille let us in before she left,”

At the sound of a bag crumpling and squeals echoing the hollow house, Harry scrunched his nose in curiosity, briskly walking where Gemm was currently holding up tiny baby clothes in front of her. “Who’s that for?” He thought of any possible friends that had had a baby recently but couldn’t recall any.

She immediately stuffed the clothing into the bag, nervously placing a hand on her chest, “Gosh, Harry, you scared me,” Her brows went high on her forehead in alarm, sharing a look with her mum trailing behind Harry.

“Well? Did I miss something?”

“Oh, it’s for one of my friends,”

Harry contemplated on his next words, “D-did you know that Y/N had a baby?” It couldn’t be right if his sister and mum knew about his exes baby and not him, right? That’s just plain odd to still be in touch with an ex's family. His brows furrowed in suspicion as both of them declined his question.

“What? Nooo,”

Awkward silence filtered through the air as Anne sipped water from her mug and Harry was slowly putting the pieces together. Gemme dove to the centre of the couch where her phone was when it rang suddenly, surprising all three of them. Harry was quicker, eyeing his mum and sister and inspecting the emoji substituting as a name before sliding his thumb to answer it.

"Hey, Gems! Are you coming to the park? We're waiting for you,”

Harry felt his heart drop to his stomach just as the phone nearly slipped from his clutch. That voice. He could recognize it from everywhere having spent nearly every morning for the four years that they were together hearing it lulling him out of sleep. It was Y/N’s voice calling his sister who was looking extremely anxious.

He tapped on the ‘mute’ button, “What does she mean ‘we’?”

“Nothing! Give me my phone back,” Gemma tried to reach for the device but Harry held it high beyond her reach.

“I saw the picture you sent me. I told you that you and Anne didn’t have to get me anything,” Harry felt dizzy. “Connor and I got some things a few weeks ago. But that skirt is so adorable!”

One part of him was glad to hear her voice. In fact, Harry found himself smiling too, despite what he just heard. Connor. “Harry, won’t be there right? Hello? Have I been talking to myself this whole time,” Y/N laughed a little; she had a habit of talking endlessly when she was excited. It made Harry more sombre, letting his guards down and his arm in reach for Gemma to grasp.

“Hey! I'm just organizing the clothes, see you soon!" Gemma jammed her finger on the red end call, anxiously glancing at her brother, piecing everything together.

“Who's Connor?" Could it be that the Connor he met last night was the same as Y/N’s? The one who bought pickles and strawberries--one of Y/N favourite food combinations? He mentioned that he had a little girl and Y/N just called to meet his sister and his mum at the park. And baby clothes?

Anne and Gemma looked at each other, quickly deciding that for the benefit of Harry that they should tell him at least a little bit. He was looking as if he was going insane, especially with his bed head pointing his hair out in different directions.

“He’s Y/N’s partner”

Harry gulped, reeling his thoughts to a halt, “Partner? And the baby is...?” The last bit of confirmation was all he needed to lash his feelings out.

“Is... waiting for us at the park! Sorry H gotta go,” Gemma was swift enough to gather all the bags without having Harry chase after her. His state of confusion and shock was enough to render him partially speechless and immobile.

“Hey wait!”

Anne garnered his attention, “Oh, Mrs. Q from next door wants me over for dinner. I’m sure wants to see us both. Why don’t you get ready, Harry?” Anne tugged his arm in the direction of the staircase pushing him to stumble up a couple of steps.

Harry was confused. He made the sounds of his footsteps creeping up the wooden stairs, hearing his mum quietly talking to Gemma on the phone, “Elmsway Park, you said? How long till you're home? I’m not sure how long I can keep him occupied,”

With that being said, Harry was out of his house, silently unlocking and locking the door. He was dressed in some basketball shorts and a graphic tee, slipping on the first pair of sneakers he had tossed aside. Harry jogged to his car, typing in the name of the park on his phones’ GPS. The route was only a few minutes away so he decided to take his time, gathering his scattered thoughts along the way.

He parked just beside the playground scouting the trees around the premises. Harry decided that it was the perfect day. The sun was out. It wasn’t too humid and the birds were chirping on the branches. He could see why the playground was full of children running around in delight. The green patches of grass were partially filled with picnic blankets and food to be shared. Families laughed with each other as one in particular caught his eye.

It made him smile at first, seeing just how adorable the couple was with their baby. He exited the car, making sure to lock the vehicle. With his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his shorts, Harry could feel the tethered grass rubbing against his legs. As he got closer, he couldn’t help the twinge of familiarity spark in his chest, recognizing that what he was staring at was Connor playfully chasing a little girl of about two-years-old as she squealed at how close he was getting to tagging her.

Harry stood by a tree, shielding him away from view. He tried to appear invisible without seeming too creepy. He knew that it was only a matter of seconds before his eyes found the woman he had been missing, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Connor picked up the little girl in his arms, dotting pecks all over the girls’ cheeks, causing her to giggle and push his face away with a tiny palm. And there she was standing outside the raised platform of the playground, coming up to the both of them with a juice box in hand to hydrate the little angel. Connor turned his attention to Y/N, planting the most adoring kiss on her lips that made her smile so wide and the baby cover her eyes. They laughed together, looking like a picture-perfect family.

Gemma sat on the bench, flickering her gaze to the precious family in front of her and to the figure of her brother walking away from the scene. Her heart broke for Harry, and it cracked, even more, when he turned back. This time, watching Connor and Y/N cheer on baby angel to go down the slide. Both of them clapped their hands in enthusiasm as the girl hesitantly slid down the plastic slide. The smile on her face was infectious.

It almost made Harry smile, too.

___

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