#not proofread since it’s midnight and i just wanted to dump this here before my beauty sleep bye | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

impactedfates · 6 months

Note

Okay I have this idea but yes yes anyway [might be long I'm so sorry]

So basically Wanderer practically joined Traveller to journey out to the last 3 regions of Teyvat. But but bUUUUT right now they're at Fontaine and doing some stuff [aka the current available quests]

Once he and the Traveller are taking a massive break over things, him checking out some places to hang out when he saw someone— another puppet, basically

When he approached them, surprise its his younger sibling [aka reader], and they still remember him despite the Irminsul incident one region ago

How would the interaction go from there? I want moar genshin-sibling-platonicness help

— 🫶🏻 Anon with another gift! A Neuvilette An otter with some things! 🦦🐚🪸🪷

A/N: THAT'S SUCH A CREATIVE IDEA ACTUALLY ANOIFENI. More genshin sibling platonic storys yes >:D AND THANK YOU FOR THE MINI NEUVI

W.C: 1237

Genre/Trope: Platonic + Familial

Format: Fic

Warnings: None (I think?)

Extra: Traveller Lumine because she needs more love, also I prefer Traveller Lumine ngl // Scaras a mean but caring older brother // Reader is a young adult // Sorry if this wasn't as long as you hoped, I haven't done any of the side quests in Fontaine :sob: willing to write a pt 2 though // I did not proof read this, I relied solely on my proofreader

Just Like Me - Platonic Scaramouche x Sibling! Reader

“Ahhh…it feels so good to relax”

Lumine sighed tiredly as she plopped herself on a bench. Scaramouche raised an eyebrow at the blonde and rolled his eyes as he stared at the traveller practically melting onto the bench. Paimon doing the same.

“You two are tired already? It’s only 12pm”

“AND we’ve been doing commissions and helping others since MIDNIGHT”

Lumine countered, now laying atop of the bench like it was the most comfiest bed in the world, Paimon nodded in agreement, going to fly over and lay down too but was knocked back a bit by Lumine.

“Go away Paimon…all you did was float around…”

“Hey!! Paimon makes great emotional support”

And all Lumine could respond with was a tired yet sarcastic ‘sure you are’. Scara watched the scene unfold in front of him and shook his head a bit. Perhaps it was because he was a puppet and didn’t get tired as fast as regular humans, but he wanted to continue their mission in Fontaine before they went to the next 2 nations.

He sat on the ground next to the blonde and after half an hour he was bored once again. Groaning a bit as he tipped his head back.

“When are we continuing our little ‘adventure’?”

“If you’re so up for it, you can go explore…look for people to help or ideally…a place to better relax and/or a place to dump Paimon”

“Hey! What’s with you and leaving me alone”

Scara shook his head as the two travelling companions began to playfully bicker, deciding to take the proposal Lumine suggested, he stood up again and began walking around Fontaine for a place to hang out or just someone in trouble. If he’d actually help them? He didn’t know either.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME”

Scara covered his ears at the sudden loud screech, turning to the source of the sound, he saw someone being cornered by some guys, eyes narrowing a bit he quietly walked over.

“Just give us the mora, and we’ll be on our way”

“I’ve told you, I don’t have it. Nor do I have any debt to even be paid”

“Debt or not, we want the money”

Scara rolled his eyes, classical treasure hoarders. Using his vision he floated above them and slashed some anemo at them, pushing them to the ground. The person he saved looked up and tilted their head.

The treasure hoarders attempted to get up but the person quickly slashed them down with geo, knocking them fully unconscious.

“If you had a vision yourself, you should’ve used it”

Scara said, floating down and crossing his arms at the person who just shrugged.

“I was going too, until you came here. Are you a god or something?”

“Ha, could’ve been if my mom hadn’t betrayed me”

He mumbled under his breath, earning a confused look as the person didn’t know what he said. Quickly coughing into a fist he extended his hand.

“You can call me Wanderer, nice to meet you”

“Oh right, I’m [Name]”

They replied, a bit hesitant, taking his hand and shaking it. A bit quickly realising that the hand they shook didn’t feel the same as the others. And as creepy as it sounds, a puppet's hand is quite different to a human's hand.

Puppet?

Both Scara and [Name] looked at eachother, realising that well, both their hands felt like a puppets one.

“A puppet?”

“Seems so, wow I never met another puppet before”

“Don’t get used to it”

[Name] laughed a bit, before eyeing Scara up and down. Something about him felt familiar…perhaps too familiar. Before long they were pretty much staring and Scara was glaring at them as no words had been spoken during this time.

“Ah, sorry…but…Kuni?”

“...What?”

Scaras eyes widened at the name before narrowing again.

“How do you know that name?”

“My mom told me about Kunikuzushi or well…Kuni…he’s my older brother…well I see him as well, I’m not sure what my mom thinks”

“Older…brother…? Wait wait…you’re telling me your mother is Raiden Ei AND that you remember that?”

“Yes and yes…why is there a problem?”

Scara shook his head, this was quite the surprise for him. He had a younger sibling and they remembered him? Or the stories anyways. Thinking for a bit he decided to explain to [Name] about the incident with the ____ Tree.

Before long, he was walking them back to where he last left Lumine.

“Wow, so you erased yourself from this tree and now history has forgotten about you? Like you never existed”

“For the nth time…y e s”

“Sorry not sorry. But that’s just so cool”

[Name] explained, laughing a bit at their brother's tired look from explaining why he’s been pretty much deleted from history. Lumine was up by now and no longer bickering with Paimon, rather she was talking to someone with a smile. A smile that both Scara and [Name] recognised as a fake one.

“I’ll get right on that…yes yes bye”

Traveller waved off the Fontainian and as soon as they were out of sight their smiles dropped and buried their heads in their heads, proceeding to silently scream in them as Paimon attempted to comfort her.

“What have I told you about accepting everyone's request”

“...Not to do it”

“And you did it anyways”

Scara sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose but he had no bad feelings towards Lumine. He knew it could be hard to refuse after being known as such a helpful adventurer.

“Oh! It’s the famous traveller! Hello!”

A voice called out, Lumine turned her head to look at Scara and noticed [Name] raising a brow. Before either Lumine or Paimon could answer, Scara quickly explained.

“Wow so…Ei really made a 3rd puppet?”

“I believe they’re older then the Shogun puppet Paimon”

Lumine answered before turning back to [Name], holding her hand out for them to shake which they happily did. Scara rolled his eyes a bit at the interaction but shrugged it off. Not like it’s bad or anything.

“Hey! Since you two seem to want to hang out together, how about you join the commission Traveller just got?”

“Oh! That would be ni-”

“No”

Scara interrupted, coughing into his fist before looking at [Name] who stared back with a slight pout and a raised brow. Lumine and Paimon sighed a bit, they both internally knew that this was going to be awhile.

And it was! The pair had to listen to the two of them argue about [Name] joining the commission, and as harsh as Scaras words were to try to dissuade [Name] to join, Lumine could tell he just wanted to keep them safe. Unfortunately for Scara, he had been following Lumine to the commission area so…whether he liked it or not, looks like [Name] is joining.

He simply grumbled under his breath as he reluctantly grabbed his siblings arm and began dragging them around as Lumine started the commissions. If he couldn’t stop them from joining, the least he could do was protect them right?

That’s what siblings are for…and they’re also for

“THAT WAS MY SWEET MADAM [NAME]”

“NOT ANYMORE”

They’re also there to have silly arguments with after a long day of commissions, reminding both Paimon and Lumine what they must look like when they argue. Lumine simply laughed at their antics as she sipped her drink. (You wish that was you huh?)

If you want a pt 2 where I probably (hopefully) write Scara and [Name]s sibling dynamic better, please comment! I'll make one as soon as I finish my current requests :>>

167 notes · View notes

rinstrumental · 1 year

Text

all the wrong places

zutara

# not proofread, part 2 here

part one - disclosure

The night air was still. The only sounds in the vicinity were the lapping of the waves against the shore and crackling of the bonfire that had been going since sunset. The flames flickered in the reflection of Katara’s pupils, her gaze focused as she threw branch after branch into the blaze.

Zuko watched her hands carefully. At times they danced a little too close to the fire, ash and fire licking at her scarred fingers.

“You don’t have to do that. It’s a nice night,” he said. It was the first time anyone had talked in a half hour, his slightly hoarse voice cutting through the tranquil night.

Without looking away from her self-assigned chore, Katara replied. “Toph gets cold easily.” As if on cue, the girl dozing behind her rolled over and began to snore.

The two of them were the only ones left awake, their companions scattered around them and sleeping like logs. The usual palpable, awkward silence that came when they were the only two people in the room was as apparent as ever.

Zuko couldn’t bear it. Just being around Katara already made him anxious. Not that she was an unpleasant person, but there was just something about Katara that made Zuko desperate to prove himself. Despite her forgiveness, every time he thought of Katara (often), all he saw was an intangible spider web of betrayal, his feelings, her feelings, their convoluted past and possibly somethingmore. What did she think of him? He wished he had the courage to ask.

“What was it like, coming here?” This time Katara was the first to speak, yanking Zuko out of his thoughts. “As a kid, with your family and everything.”

He winced. Not wanting to have to think about his family, Zuko tried steering the conversation in a different direction. “It wasn’t just my family. Sometimes Mai and Ty Lee would come along too.”

Katara finally looked up to meet Zuko’s eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“It was fine, I guess. Azula kept them occupied most of the time. I just spent time with my parents. But at night, we would sneak out of our rooms to ‘play’. At Azula’s behest.”

The girl sitting opposite him finally cracked a smile. “She’s always been the one bossing you around, isn’t it?”

“Just like you with Sokka,” Zuko chuckled. Katara pulled a face.

“What games would you guys play?”

“Stupid games, if you can even call them that. Gymnastics competitions, dress-up, fire flake eating challenges,” Zuko muttered, deep in thought. “Sometimes truth or dare...”

“Well,” Katara sighed. “Since we’re both still awake with nothing better to do, maybe we could play one of those games.”

“What, dress up? Now?”

“Of course not!” She crossed her arms, laughing. “Do you see a catwalk and closet filled with royal Fire Nation attire anywhere around here? I meant something like truth or dare.”

“Alright. try me.” Katara’s laugh felt like liquid courage, flowing through Zuko’s veins, lifting him up high. He could do anything.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Go into the ocean. I want to see you completely soaked when you come out.”

Zuko eyed the midnight blue sea, already anticipating the bone-deep chill. But a dare is a dare, right?

He pulled his shirt off over his head, dumping it in the sand. Before Katara could react, Zuko was running towards the waves.

“Wait, I was kidding, but are you actually gonna do it?” she shouted in disbelief. As she watched him get closer to the water, Katara finally grabbed a cloth and chased after him, maybe against her better judgment.

She heard it before she saw it. A loud splash, followed by a yell. “Fuck, it’s freezing!”

“I was kidding,” she repeated breathlessly, throwing the makeshift towel over Zuko’s head. “What if you get sick or something now?”

Zuko pulled the cloth aside to thank Katara, and was surprised to see the look of pure worry on her face. Well, maybe annoyance, too. But was she actually concerned about his well being?

“You can’t get sick just before Sozin’s Comet, that was so stupid of me!”

Oh, right, Zuko remembered. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed, suddenly remembering the hard-hitting reality of the circumstances that brought them here in the first place. “I’ll be fine, I’ll just get back to the fire and dry off. I promise I won’t get sick.”

Katara’s furrowed eyebrows relaxed. “Okay, I shouldn’t get stressed over small things like this. Keeping our composure is the most important thing we can do right now.” Zuko nodded in agreement.

The both of them settled down next to the bonfire again - this time next to each other, Zuko couldn’t help but notice. He leaned towards the heat, sighing in relief. He felt a bundle of fabric drop in his lap, recognising it as his top when he looked down. All of a sudden Zuko was hyper aware of his lack of clothing. Katara laughed when she noticed the blush rise on his face.

“Sorry,” he mumbled bashfully as he hastily pulled the shirt back on. “Forgot about that.”

The silence took over again, but this time it felt more comfortable. Like falling asleep under a big blanket after a long shower. Zuko looked down. Katara’s knee leaned against his own, her hand brushing carelessly against his whenever she reached for the pile of branches again. The fire was still going.

“Truth or dare?”

Katara didn’t miss a beat. “Truth.” He swore he could hear the smile in her voice.

“What’s your most embarrassing secret?” Oh my God, she’s going to think that was weird.

She laughed again, a beautiful, resonating sound. “I didn’t think we were going to get personal.”

He shrugged. “I mean, you did make me run into the sea in the middle of the night.”

“I told you that you didn’t have to do it, you didn’t listen, and now you’re putting the blame on me? You’re unbelievable.”

“Okay, fine. Secret for a secret.” Zuko turned to face Katara, his expression serious.

“Now you’ve got me interested. You go first.” She smirked smugly, resting her chin in her hand. “What kind of terrible, humiliating life story does the almighty prince of the Fire Nation have to tell me?”

“Um… do you remember what I told you just now? About the… games I’d play with my sister and her friends?”

“Sure.”

“Er… I… was the one getting dressed up.”

“Are you kidding me?” Katara exclaimed. “Tell me something I didn’t know!”

Zuko felt the heat return to his cheeks. “How’d you know?”

“Come on, I have a brother too. We all know ‘dress-up’ means putting the only boy around in a skirt and doing his hair!”

Zuko couldn’t help but begin to laugh as he recounted how he had worn Azula’s dresses as Mai smeared makeup on his face and Ty Lee braided his hair, the three of them giggling hysterically the whole time.

“I think that might be the first time I’ve heard you really laugh,” was all Katara had to say when Zuko had finished talking. The smug smile on her face had shifted to something more genuine, like she was actually enjoying listening to him ramble on and on. Zuko’s heart skipped at the thought.

“Ah, well, your turn now,” he said quickly, changing the subject again.

“For the record, I think that was a lame ass secret,” Katara sighed, sitting up straight. “But what I’m about to tell you absolutely cannot be known by anyone else. Especially Sokka.”

Zuko couldn’t help but feel nervous as the stern look returned to Katara’s face, her intense stare boring holes into his skull. What was this, a murder confession?

“I lied about kissing Jet that one time. I lied about having my first kiss to rub it in Sokka’s face.”

He didn’t know what to say. What should anyone say to that? “Oh.”

Katara groaned and turned away from him, flustered. “It’s so stupid, I know. But it’s really my most embarrassing secret. I don’t even really know why I’m telling you this, I guess I trust that you won’t tell Sokka. You probably don’t even get it! You’re the older brother, you wouldn’t understand why I’d even lie about something so trivial- shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned th-”

Zuko gently squeezed Katara’s shoulder, bringing her breathless rant to an abrupt stop. “Katara, it’s okay. I won’t tell Sokka or anything, because who you’ve kissed or whatever is none of my business. But I do get it, the whole competition thing.”

“Of course you do. Sorry, it was just stupid of me to bring it up.”

“It’s okay.”

This time, the silence was thick and heavy. Zuko’s hand on Katara’s shoulder, their knees leaning against each other, the general closeness of their bodies - he was suddenly made aware of it all. He could hear her shallow breaths and his own heart thumping against his ribs.

“I… felt like I had to prove myself. To you.”

“What?”

“That’s why I took on your dare. Even though I hate the cold, and I’m scared of the ocean at night.”

“Ah.”

“I’ll never forget how I left you… all… in Ba Sing Se. And I don’t think you ever will either, even after we went after Yon Rha and everything. I know that was just one stupid dare that didn’t mean anything, and I know my betrayal was so much bigger than that, but… I think I just wanted to say that I’m still willing to do anything if that means I can show that I’ve changed for the better. For the sake of the world, for Aang. For you.”

“…I see.”

“…Agh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dump that on you.”

“No, no. That means a lot, Zuko. Thank you for telling me that.”

A breeze swept the beach. The bonfire cried out in protest, doubling over in the wind and eventually dying out.

A flame formed in Zuko’s hand, and he held it out in between him and Katara to share.

It was warmer than the bonfire ever could’ve been.

#avatar the last airbender #zutara #zutara fluff #zutara fanfiction #zuko fanfic #zuko x katara #katara x zuko #atla fanfic #atla zuko #atla katara #katara #zuko

87 notes · View notes

chaosprince-apollo · 3 years

Text

I find it poetic that in some ways Iroh's greatest defeat is ultimately his greatest triumph.

Like I'm not talking directly obviously. We know he was considered to be a great general and after his defeat he was ridiculed and broken because of the death of his son, he had no real place in his own nation due to his failure and outside of his nation he is a war criminal which he is undeniably aware of and he regrets because he knows he wasn't the good guy and his son died in vain. He may act like a buffoon at times but we know and the people in the avatar kingdoms know he is extremely capable and an expert stratergiest (a testament to this fact is people are wary of him and he STILL manages the convince them he's harmless even when the KNOW he's a dangerous man.)

Now to get to my point about why it becomes a triumph. Simple. It's his big turning point or his first big turning point. This failure and subsequent ridicule breaks him away from the expectation of being a great general. Breaks him away from being a model of what a fire nation soldier should be. Iroh is shown to always be a caring father and I truly believe he knew he was doing wrong but that he also loved his nation and the firelord (his brother) and wanted to bring glory/honour not just for himself but for his son. Failing at Ba Sing Se was a blow sure but if he'd succeeded a) more people than had already died would have and being enslaved by the fire nation. b) he'd have never become the man who became one of the cities protectors c) he'd possibly not have been the one to be with Zuko during exile and d) certainly wouldn't have been someone helping protect the Avatar.

Now I say this is one of his turning points because it's also extremely obvious his relationship with Zuko is his other important factor as to WHY Iroh is such a nuanced and well fleshed out character. There's no way Iroh WOULDN'T love Zuko, but his failure and death of his son drives Iroh not only to adopt Zuko as his own but also to understand that Zuko's mission is wrong and is the road to ruin.

Iroh has first hand knowledge what being on the wrong side gets you. He's also one of the only people around Zuko that acknowledges he is literally a 13 year old child (when exiled, 16 during the show) the gaang also make acknowledgement of this but considering they themselves are like 12-15 approximately this acknowledgement doesn't have the same impact as GROWN ASS ADULTS thinking it's okay for the firelord (a powerful force) to fight agni kai against a 13 year old and then exile him for having....an opinion? Like honestly do these people actually know what the agni kai was about and just accept that or are they told Zuko did something terrible...which like even so pretty poor form here y'all (anyway I digress clearly from my point but I have FEELINGS and probably there are other people with in the fire nation that have enough empathy and critical thinking to know that what happened to Zuko was wrong but my point remains) Uncle Iroh is one of if not the only ADULT character that seems to actually be shown as thinking Zuko is a child with feelings instead of that he's dishonoured his family or that he's evil.

(Side note, I know he calls Azula crazy but I also don't think he thinks she's actually evil either but he has no way to help her and even if he tried there's no way in her current mind set she'd ever listen. She wants to be strong and powerful and whilst she's incredibly smart she can't tell she's being manipulated because she's only ever gotten by on manipulation herself and being rewarded for that so it's difficult for her to see her father doing it to her. It's really enforced into her that her brother is weak and worthless because he doesn't have it in him to be like her. In her mind Iroh isn't just a failure as a soldier, he's a failure because he stood by Zuko. Why would she listen to someone so weak and stupid.)

So in conclusion after several tangents. Iroh's failure to take Ba Sing Se ultimately leads to his role in it's liberation and the defeat of the fire nation under firelord Ozai. His defeat helps put him on the side of the people and the avatar and gives him chances to make amends for his true failures (besieging the city in the first place leading to deaths including his own son and the failure to bring a stop to his younger brother's ambition and cruelty)

Another tangent fuck sorry, it's being a little while since I've watched and I'm thinking of things as I type and I am totally aware I might be missing stuff or misremembering things or that maybe I just have a different interpretation of certain events or characterisations. ANYWAY Iroh as the older brother was the one in line for the throne and Ozai tried to convince Azulon that Iroh was weak using Ba Sing Se as the reason (Azulon's reaction to this is entirely unfair, and it's hard to feel empathy for his fate at the time of his death even if, like other people of fire nation royalty, he has potential not to be a FUCKING COLOSSAL WANKER.) [Also a pause here to say there's a solid 11 to 12 hours between my thoughts here cause my friend called for me to pick her up from somewhere cause she finished waaaaay earlier than we were expecting so coherency who knows her lol]

I think the point I was making essentially comes down to Iroh's defeat leads Ozai to confront/try to reason with Azulon that Ozai would make a better firelord than Iroh (whether Ozai was wrong or right is a matter of perception ultimately) Azulon didn't like this and demanded Ozai kill Zuko, which I actually don't remember clearly but I looked at the wiki to jog my memory and it says that's what happened. Which was my point earlier about being a wanker, and sure maybe it was actually going to be some kind of test a la abraham and isaac etc but of course he got murked and also like firelords tend to have this follow through of becoming batshit at some point. Or at least the last few the precede our boy Zuko certainly have questionable levels of empathy for anyone outside of their immediate family and even then ... anyway who remembers Zuko's scar? Anyone, anyone at all. Yeah....

So Iroh defeat = Ozai trying to usurp the throne = Azulon's piece of shit death to Zuko demand = Azulon gets murdered, sorry assassinated = Ozai usurping the throne anyway (although I'm not sure Iroh really fought him on that at all? Someone please clarify) = Ozai being firelord when Zuko spoke up = the whole agni kai business = Zuko having his face burnt by his own father and told he's weak and is given a frankly impossible task = Iroh watching on and feeling shame, disgust, guilt, and honestly I ultimately think he felt fear for Zuko and fear of having to acknowledge more than ever before that his younger brother and even the nation he loves are on the wrong path and that power isn't worth the amount of pain and suffering caused, like I'm sure previous to this he knew, he had to have known because we know how incredibly intelligent Iroh is, and we also know he is part of white lotus (which again someone might have to tell me a timeline on that because the white lotus thing seems to have being going on a while so was he white lotus during the ba sing se seige? The first one I mean? OH THOUGHTS BUT I'LL COME BACK = Iroh and Zuko's pirate adventures uh, I mean Zuko tries to capture the avatar and Iroh drinks tea = Iroh having to watch Zuko struggle at an impossible task to regain honour he never actually lost = Iroh being a scheming old man to achieve the goal of giving Zuko a loving father = Iroh going on the journey with Zuko to befriend the gaang = Iroh participating with other white lotus members to liberate ba sing se = leading to help the downfall of an oppressive regime = Zuko taking the throne in a state of empathy and acceptance.

Like let's be real. Even though Iroh probably would have made a formidable firelord he possibly wouldn't have become the Iroh we know even though that man would have been in there and whilst he'd have remained a role model to Zuko it may not have had the same impact as the journey they DO share.

Okay I know I had more thoughts regarding white lotus things but this is so long and it's midnight and exactly 0 people will read this

Anyway I love Iroh thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

(Any mistakes are because my brain just dumped a bunch of thoughts and proofread absolutely nothing)

#uncle iroh #prince iroh #atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko #fire nation #fire lord #fire lord azulon #fire lord ozai #agni kai #white lotus #ba sing se

33 notes · View notes

crossandchange · 3 years

Text

yuto // segmentation fault

This is a gift fic for @lilyyutodae! Happy holidays Lily, I hope you enjoy this weird little fic :)

@exolssecretsanta

Warnings: Some bad words, a good amount of jargon, and weird humor.

“God fucking damn it!” You cried as you saw those four damn words on your laptop screen:

Segmentation Fault (Core Dumped)

“I hate my life, I hate this class, and my professor can go to hell! Who in the modern world writes programs in C!” You ranted emphatically, slamming your hands against the grimy library desk.

The figure next to you sighed and craned his neck to get a closer look.

“I told you to get started on this project earlier, y/n. Why didn’t you listen?” Yuto commented, leaning back in his seat. “Segmentation faults are a pain to debug and you know this.”

“Yes dad,” you shot him a sarcastic thumbs up and started to add some debugging print statements. You yawned and glanced up to check the time on the brown clock on the wall above you. 12:20 AM. Fabulous, you were in for a long night. Why didn’t you bother buying coffee before the overpriced coffee shop across the street closed? Oh right, since it was overpriced.

You turned to face Yuto. “But why the hell are you here when you’re already done?”

Yuto twirled his pencil. “As I said two hours ago, I’m working on some proofs and I can’t quite crack it.” He sighed, looking away defeatedly. You patted him on the shoulder empathetically and turned back to your own laptop.

~~~~~

You had met Yuto in your freshman year calculus class. You had gotten lost in the endless hallway of the math building and finally stumbled into the right classroom, as the professor was reading from her five-page long syllabus. When she saw you, she stopped.

“So you are y/n? Pleased that you could join us. Welcome to the exciting world of multivariable calculus. Take a seat wherever you can find one,” she smiled, extending a chalky hand to shake yours. You quickly grabbed a syllabus and rushed to the first empty seat you could find, hastily taking down any notes you missed.

The bell rang and you rushed to grab your backpack and head off to your next class, but you were stopped by a tap on your shoulder. It was the boy sitting next to you.

“Hi, I’m Yuto. I’m an electrical engineering major. What about you?” Flustered, you sat back down and introduced yourself.

“I’m y/n, I have a class right after this, I gotta go, but pleased to meet you!” The words spilled out of your mouth and you made a motion to grab your papers, but you were stopped by the boy--no, Yuto--scribbling on your syllabus.

“That’s my number. We should text each other for homework help and stuff. See you around!” He waved you off.

Since then, Yuto has been your best study buddy. Whenever you had quizzes, you would study together the night before. You would proofread each other’s papers and debug each other’s code. You also brought him to all the free food events on campus. The two of you would often be seen grabbing pizza, burritos, and donuts--all for the price of signing up on a club membership list.

Your roommate would often tease you as you got ready for a late-night library study session.

“Heading off to see your boyfriend?” She would smirk, leaning lazily against the doorway.

“For the last time, he’s not my boyfriend. I have plenty of other male friends that I hang out with. He’s just super smart and I’d like all the help I can get!” You retorted, cheeks flushing red. Your roommate raised a knowing eyebrow and sauntered back into her room.

She had a point, though. Yuto wasn’t just any friend. Over the couple of months you knew him, you saw more than just his book smarts. Yuto was kind, intelligent, and orderly. Time and time again, he had been your saving grace--reminding you of deadlines, buying you coffee when you had an early morning class, and being there to listen when you complained about grades and life.

Not to forget that his ass looked great in a pair of jeans.

So it was inevitable that you fell for this sweet, calm boy. You could only hope that he either felt the same, or was too dense to notice your feeble attempts at flirtation.

~~~~~~~

You let out a whoosh of air and slowly rose to your feet, extending your arms out above your head. You did it. You had finally solved your pesky segmentation fault after two hours of furious typing, googling, and head-desking. You turned to Yuto to shake him with excitement, only to find that he had snoozed off, head lolling against the olive green fabric of the crusty couch.

Well, one could only stare at proofs for so long at the wee hours of the night before sleep took over. His face was serene; the pressure of maintaining scholarships and grades did not affect him in the land of sleep. You sunk back into the couch. Maybe you too, deserved a cat nap before finishing this last report…

When you came to, you noticed a couple of things.

First, the birds were starting to chirp outside as the sky started to brighten from a midnight black to a cerulean blue. Stupid birds and their morning songs.

Second, your head was resting comfortably on a lap. Wait, what?

You pushed yourself up from the couch and blinked a couple of times to dispel the haze of slumber. Yuto was still propped up against the couch, sleeping away peacefully. At some point in the night, your head must have ended up in his lap. Not that you were complaining, though.

In a trance, you slowly brought your hand up to faintly trace the contours of his face. You followed the line of his nose bridge, feathered your fingers along his eyebrows, and slowly dragged your fingers along his cheek until you realized that his eyes were no longer shut.

Well shit.

Some rational part of your brain screamed at you to pull your hand away, but you were caught in his spell. He was looking at you intently. There was no look of disdain in his eyes, no surprise, but rather… curiosity? Your breath hitched in your throat and you leaned in.

Oh God, you were kissing him. And oh fuck, he was kissing you back. At this moment, you didn’t care about the consequences of kissing your best friend. It felt good to meld your lips with his, arms snaking around his neck to bring you closer. It wasn’t until his hands found their way into your hair that you broke away, gasping from the sudden weight of your actions.

“I am so sorry”, you mumbled, burying your face into your hands. “I finished my program earlier and took a nap. I’ll head--”

You were interrupted by his hands pulling your hands away from your crimson cheeks.

“Don’t be.”

“What?”

“Don’t be sorry,” Yuto said with a half smile, peering down at you with adoration. “I just got to kiss the girl of my dreams.” He leaned in once again, but you brought up a palm to meet his lips, earning you a look of surprise on his face.

“What?” You repeated, at a loss for words.

“God, I didn’t think you were this dense.” Yuto said, shaking his head. He exhaled.

“I. like. you.” He punctuated each word clearly. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

“And I’m pretty sure that you like me too, considering you just kissed me,” he chuckled. God, the nerve of this man. You tangled your fingers with his and shyly looked down.

“You caught me,” you said in a small voice, the adrenaline wearing off. The urge to crawl into bed and snuggle with this infuriatingly beautiful man was taking over your thought process.

Yuto was thinking along the same lines. “How about we get some breakfast and go sleep in a real bed?”

“Deal. Wait, not my place. I don’t want to deal with my roommate,” you groaned.

He smiled and kissed your hand. “We’ll take it one step at a time, babe.”

#I am sorry in advance #I am not a writer and so this was difficult #i apologize if y'all don't understand the random technical terms #just know that C is an old language that's kinda hard to debug #yuto fluff #pentagon yuto #yuto au

11 notes · View notes

yoonjinkooked · 5 years

Text

lockdown | (m) - Chapter 1

moodboard by @flajka

pairing; jungkook/female OC genre; college au, strangers to lovers, smut and tiny bit of fluff too, humor ofc rating; explicit words; 4.900

— synopsis; Eunhee is in trouble and facing a deadline - in comes curly haired jungkook to save her life, make her laugh and maybe, just maybe, fuck her brains out. When the two end up locked in a building overnight, who knows what will happen?

warnings (for this chapter): cursing, OC really wants to murder Tae, banter, cute Kook, slightly cocky Kook, hints of sexual tension. Just an introduction chapter, really.

A/N: I hope you enjoy the first part guys. I am now starting to work on Chapter 2 and will let you know when I plan on posting it. Let me know what you think - I’m still a tumblr newbie and basically, I’m crappin my pants.

With that being said, let’s start chapter 1 :)

In the life of a journalism major, there are a few life-changing, stress-inducing moments that essentially serve as a preview of what’s to come if you do decide stay on your chosen career path.

For me, a handful of these moments made me question anything and everything I have ever known about the career I’ve chosen to pursue back when I was 18 and frankly, a little bit stupid. One of these moments was back when I was doing an obligatory internship at a small, local newspaper, only to realize that the editors and big shots there expected me to do nothing more than to make them coffee and copy papers in their stead.

Another moment was when I attended my first murder trial, which probably would end up being a part of my future job, only to spend the entire afternoon wondering if this really is something I want to do for the rest of my life.

And the final moment, at least the final one that I can think of right now, is currently occurring, with me losing my shit as we are trying to get the final edition of this year’s university magazine ready for printing. And I, as one of two co-editors, will be the one to blame if anything goes wrong.

Half of my grade depends on this. My future job prospects depend on this. Whether or not the professor is happy can influence the direction of my masters’ next year. This is ride or die for me and I am losing it.

“Namjoon, where the hell is he?” I ask my co-editor, best friend and partner in crime. Who also happens to be the only person on this planet who is well equipped to deal with me losing my shit.

“I know as much as you do,” he reminds me, moving the phone away from his ear. “I am trying to reach him now. You panicking will not do us any good and it definitely won’t make Taehyung answer me sooner. So don’t panic and focus on the things we already have here and work with that. The photos aren’t the only thing we need to look over before it’s ready for print.”

I nod my head franticly, knowing deep down that he has a point but also knowing that won’t help me at all. It never does because whenever I am chasing a deadline, I follow the same line of action. Work, panic, panic some more, work, panic like the world is ending, forcefully calm down and then, finally, get shit done. I am not sure if I am on the ‘panic some more’ or ‘panic like the world is ending’ phase yet but as I run fingers through my hair, letting my nerves get the best of me, I am positive said hair is gray.

I hear Namjoon cursing under his breath but for the sake of getting things done, I ignore him for now and simply focus on the task at hand – proofreading. As long as I preoccupy myself with tasks that need to be done, I cannot focus on the fact that Taehyung is late, like he always is, despite it being the one time he truly needed to be on time.

So for the next few minutes, I go over several articles in the speed of light, once, twice, three times. No matter how much they’re using spell-check, our reporters still make mistakes and honestly, when I see my name below one title, I know I am not allowed to judge because I obviously do it too.

Campus activity, student achievements, published works and former alumni ‘look, they’re famous now’ column – all covered and grammatically perfect. And Namjoon is still trying to reach the one man we need the most right now. Slowly but surely, the other students are becoming less frantic and more calm and casual, because their tasks are all but finished. Namjoon, Hoseok and I? Not so much.

“Okay, what the hell?” Hoseok throws his pen rather violently on his desk. “He does this every time. Every damn time. I’m the designer – I need to go over everything and make sure the photos are put where they belong. How can I do that if I don’t have said photos?”

“Hoseok, I know I’m not the textbook definition of calm but we need to try to be,” I tell him, turning my chair to face him over our connected desks. “Try to design it somehow, leaving the space for the photos. Vertical or horizontal, I will find good photos to fit. And if I have to change something, I will.”

“Are you sure you can do that?” he looks doubtful, which is extremely insulting, since we have known each other for three years and have been working together for more than two.

“Basic editing? Yeah, I can do that,” I roll my eyes. “If you doubt my editing skills, you can stick around till midnight to check on me.”

“No way,” he shakes his head. “It’s Jimin’s birthday party tonight and you know I need to be there.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, not even sure why, since it’s absolutely obvious that he is dead serious. “This is the most important edition we’re going to release. We’ve been doing this for years and this is our grand exit, which we need to execute perfectly, and you’re telling me you want to go to a party?”

“I’ll be going too,” Namjoon covers the speaker of his phone to tell me. “Sure, this edition is a big deal and we want it done well but most is already done and this isn’t our entire life.”

“Oh please,” I reach for something, anything, and end up hitting him on the chest with a block of post-its. “You’re just going because you hope to hook up with Hyejin, even though we all know you will just end up drunk, alone and watching her from a distance.”

“How dare you?” Namjoon is flabbergasted.

“She isn’t wrong,” Hoseok chuckles, ignoring the glare Namjoon throws his way. “But he’s right about this not being our entire life. You will burn out, Eunhee. It’s been two weeks and you haven’t stopped thinking about this once,” he tells me, as if I needed to be reminded. “This is the final edition with you being the editor. You should celebrate, not stay here after hours and pulling the hair of your head.”

“With the two of you playing beer pong and complaining about girls ignoring you, someone has to be the responsible one,” I point out. “All of this is riding on the three of us and you’re just… gonna dump me?” the betrayal is evident in my voice and yet, neither one of them is bothered enough to look guilty. Before they’re co-editor and designer, they’re just stupid, horny students.

“It’s already done Eunhee,” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “The one doing the dumping here is Taehyung and you just told Hoseok you can handle the editing. If you’re not sure, you can send him your final version and he can fix it if it needs to be fixed.”

“I am not leaving that party to fix Taehyung’s mess,” Hoseok cuts in.

“Our mess,” I remind him. “We have until 4AM to send it. So long as you’re not wasted out of your mind, it’s doable. If you even need to fix anything. Taehyung is always late but he also always brings more than enough material for us to work with. He’s a jackass but a talented jackass.”

“And a jackass who can’t answer his phone,” Namjoon adds, throwing his phone on the desk, before sighing as he slumps down onto his chair. “I’m going to regret that,” he glares at his phone.

“I can’t force you to stay here and help me,” I mumble, watching as the student reporters casually leave our office space, not even bothering to say goodbye because it’s the final week – who cares, life goes on, we’re going to see each other eventually and our portion of work is done. “I can, however, remind you of this in the years to come, guilt tripping you into doing favors. Many, many favors.”

“You make it sound like you’re not already doing that half the time,” Hoseok points out.

“Not my problem you somehow always end up owing me one. Or two. Or five,” I shrug as I turn towards my laptop, planning on searching for some stock photos we might be able to use, if Taehyung doesn’t show up. I know that he always does, last minute or not, but I can’t leave anything to chance. While stock photos would be a cop-out of sorts, we need to have a plan B.

The next two hours pass in almost complete silence. An occasionally sigh would leave Hoseok and every now and then, Namjoon would curse under his breath as he tries to reach Taehyung for what has to be the hundredth time – so far, to no avail. The panic I felt earlier had already left my system so I was able to focus on other things, all the while ignoring what seems to be our pending doom.

The sun had set and the lights are now on and that son of a bitch is still not answering his phone.

“You know, at this point I’m starting to wonder if we have better chances of finding him at Jimin’s party,” Hoseok breaks the silence. “I’m done with all the pages, I left enough space for all kinds of photos and there’s literally nothing more that we need to do.”

“Speak for yourself,” I mumble as I open the email he just sent me, showing the draft for the final version of the magazine. It looks as amazing as possible, seeing as 98% of photos are missing – instead, white blocks serve as breaks between long rows of text. “You know what? You two go. Go and have fun and if you find him, kick his ass. There’s no way he’d ever miss Jimin’s party. I’ll stay here and finish this up and when you send him to me, I’ll kick his ass too,” I tell them.

“Eunhee, are you sure?” Namjoon walks over to my desks and leans on it, giving me what I can only describe as a look of pure and utter pity. “I don’t want to leave you hanging; you’re not the only one with the responsibility here.”

Seeing as I am the only one that will sit Jimin’s birthday party out, I kind of am, but I do not say it. “It’s okay Joon,” I reassure him. “Go. Have fun. Try to get some with Hyejin. I’ll take care of this, it’s not like it’ll be the first time I pull an all-nighter. Just find that bastard and get those photos to me.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Hoseok stands up and throws a bag over his shoulder. “We will find him and I will do my best to stay sufficiently sober if you need my help. Which, if you do, don’t hesitate to call me, okay?” I nod, knowing I would rather fix it myself than have drunk Hoseok ruin it. He’s majestic with the editing software but when drunk, he can’t even walk straight, much less edit.

“Just make sure to get his USB to me, even if you have to kill him to make it happen,” I remind them. Namjoon is still worried but I roll my eyes at him, which apparently is the sign he needed to get his things and leave. I wave them out, surprisingly relieved to have the office for myself.

I am a decent team player but the last couple of years have shown me that I do my best work when I do it alone. Not to say that I take all the credit – hell no. Joon is the editor as much as I am and half the work is done by him but at times like these, I just want him out and away, busy with Hyejin. This way, if it’s a mess – it’s my mess. If it’s a work of art – it’s my work of art.

With a coffee in one hand and glasses of my head, I go over last year’s photo folder – that’s a better plan B than some basic stock photos. Some of the photos look like a decent backup – our campus hasn’t changed much over the last couple of months, after all. As long as I avoid last year’s seniors, I might be able to pull off plan B without anyone except a handful of us knowing the truth.

Even the swimming team – they have won gold last year, they have won gold this year too. The members are all the same, no new freshmen, no seniors last year. If my memory serves me well, all of them kept their natural hair colors and I can totally use said photo in this month’s edition. Sure, Jimin and the rest of the team will probably know what’s up but that’s nothing a round of beer can’t fix.

Look at me – such a professional. Bribing my way to get the work done. Yay.

In the midst of scrolling, I pause to glance at the clock – it’s almost ten and still no sign of Taehyung. Stifling down the pending panic, I take a deep breath and decide to play some music, hoping to distract myself more. While 80s rock has its charms, I still fidget as I scroll through folders upon folders, grabbing hold of my favorite koala mug again and downing the rest of the coffee in one go. Needing something to distract me further, I open the top drawer of my desk, grabbing the emergency M&Ms I’ve kept there for a few weeks now, knowing I was bound to pull an all-nighter sooner or later.

Just as I down a handful of candy, someone knocks on the office door and I nearly choke. I cough, make sure a lone M&M is not going to kill me, take a deep breath and shout a ‘come in’.

The little hope I have deflates as I realize it’s not Taehyung, the bastard himself – instead, it’s a guy I know, but not really. Tall, wavy brown hair, wide brown eyes and a slightly dumbfounded look, hidden under the hood of his black sweatshirt as he barely steps inside the office, still with one foot out as if he is ready to run.

I am positive I know him. I’m sure we have class together, or had the year before. Or perhaps we just have classes in the same building – I know I’ve seen him before, in the background, on the side, but for the life of me, I can’t put a face to the name.

“Can I help you?” I ask, once he doesn’t speak up for a few moments.

“Yeah,” he snaps out of his daze, tilting his head before reaching for his pocket – I keep my eye on his hands, half expecting him to draw a gun and shoot me in place. “Taehyung sent me to give you this,” he says as he pulls out a USB stick out of his pocket.

Finally, I can breathe. Finally, I know I will manage to get this done tonight. “Thank fuck,” I sigh, closing my eyes for a second before opening them up again and realizing I have just confused the shit out of him. “I was positive the jackass would leave me hanging. I would have murdered him in cold blood.”

“He’d never do that,” the guy smiles at me, a smile that evaporates as quickly as it appeared; making me wonder if I even imagined it. “If he had told me sooner, you wouldn’t have to wait. He texted me like 10 minutes ago, telling me that I need to bring this to the office.”

“He left the stick with you and didn’t tell you what it’s for?”

“No, he asked me to edit the photos,” he tells me. “Oh. You don’t… I’m the G.C.F guy. I’m the other photographer,” he explains and suddenly, the little boxes in my head fall into their designated place.

Taehyung had a photography partner. I’d say a solid half of the photos we’d print were Taehyung’s, and the others belong to the guy always signed as JJK, G.C. F; I have never met him, never asked for his name and before tonight, he had never showed up in the office.

And now I can remember the guy more clearly – he always had a camera, either hanging around his neck or covering his face as he would relentlessly take photos.

“Ah, now I get it,” I smile. “I’m Eunhee, the editor.”

“I know,” he tells me. “Jeongguk.”

Yep, I know the name. It’s all clicking now.

“Well don’t just stand there Jeongguk,” I tell him as I stand up; I walk around my desk and start Hoseok’s PC, knowing that he has a better editing software ready to go. “I’m going to need your help for this. Everyone else is getting shitfaced at Jimin’s so if you’re up for it, you’re going to be the one to help me get this edition ready by 4AM. You up for it?”

Honestly, I’m not particularly surprised when he doesn’t answer me straight away – it’s not like I’m offering him free food, drinks and a night he’ll remember – quite the opposite, I’m offering him a night full of work. Simply put, I’m begging him to help me, without actually openly begging.

“Sure,” I hear him shuffle around as he puts his backpack down on the ground. “Where do you need me?”

"Just get yourself a chair," I wave my hand around the room, staring at nothing as I try to figure out where should we start from. I suppose that from the beginning is the only real answer to that one. "Hobi had set it all up for me to finish but I think I need to see what you've brought me, see what i have to work with," I decide, turning to Jeongguk, just in time to see him drag Namjoon's desk chair from the corner of the office.

"All of them are edited and ready for use," he reassures me with a tight smile as he joins me behind the desk, a good foot between our chairs. Noticing that he still has his hood up and covering half of his face, I bite my tongue and decide not to wonder why - he has his reasons, I suppose.

"Then we just need to decide what goes where and that is where you come to my rescue."

"What makes you think that should be my call?" he asks, not bothering to hide his surprise.

"Well, you're a photographer," I announce, as if the guy is not aware of his profession. "Doesn't that officially make you a better judge when it comes to esthetic mumbo jumbo?" I ask, because I truly don’t know. I am not familiar with the job requirements a photographer needs to fulfill, other than to have a camera, of course. I simply imagine they have some sense of beautiful. Wouldn’t be the first time I was wrong about something and that is why I ask – there’s no shame in not knowing.

After a beat of silence Jeongguk looks at me, keeping direct eye contact for one whole second, which is time enough for me to conclude that he is cute, ridiculously so. Cute in a way that no man in his early 20s is allowed to be. Yet not cute enough to make me focus on him instead of the task before us.

"I guess so," he tilts his head as i force my jaw shut - now is not an appropriate moment for ogling. "Aren't you the boss lady though?"

"Boss lady," I test the nickname and roll my eyes. "Difficult to work with, perhaps. Bossy? Don’t think so. But I’m taking it because I obviously need your help tonight - I am good with words, not at making them look good on paper."

“What you need to do here is not that hard,” he waves at the monitor and I turn to look at him. “Deciding on which photo should go where depends on… the overall page. The colors, the neighboring photos and countless other things. There are no rules – just feeling. Photography is feeling,” he waves his hands about as he talks, completely immersed in his explanation and making me wonder if he’s talking about this particular problem or just photography and its misconceptions in general.

“No rules?” I ask through a chuckle. “That’s not what people told me when I took a selfie from a downward angle.”

To my shock and frankly, shame, he stares at me in silence, blinking once, twice, three times. I gulp. “That was supposed to be a joke,” I elaborate in a low voice, as I hope that the ground will split in two and just swallow me into a never-ending dark hole. Or that Hobi’s PC will finally be usable.

“Oh. Okay.”

Well, this settles it then – absolutely no possibility of mild, harmless flirtation. That flat-lined reaction will end up being a source of trauma for me in the years to come – I just know I will end up awake at 3AM in like five years, thinking of how awkward this particular moment was.

“Finally,” I feel relieved now that I can actually work with Hobi’s PC – I slide the flash in, on the first go. I nearly celebrate the seemingly impossible victory but I decide to hold myself back. If Jeongguk can’t take a joke, he will probably think I am insane if I behave like I normally would. “Now let’s see what we have here,” I mumble, opening the pop up. One folder named 1 – I open it. I click on the first photo, of a group of students sitting on grass and talking (looks absolutely staged but based on what I know about Taehyung and his G.C.F partner, they don’t roll that way). I smile when I see a photo of our swimming team huddled up together, gold medals hanging around their necks – I won’t have to use last year’s photos after all. “These are really good. Perfectly edited too. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, it’s my job,” Jeongguk mumbles as he eyes the photos I scroll through. I can no longer tell if he’s serious or joking and I simply give it up altogether – who cares?

“This will fit perfectly,” I mumble as I finish going through the bunch of photos and end up on the first one – the one with a bunch of people that looks absolutely staged. I exit and go back to the folder, then back to the original one. It’s as if I could feel, actually physically feel, my heart slowly sliding down inside of my body. I go back and open the folder again, looking as the fear slowly grows in me. “Jeongguk, where are the other photos?” I somehow manage to utter.

“They’re all there,” he tells me, his eyes going wide when he notices the look of pure and utter horror on my face. “Taehyung told me you need 20 photos, no more, no less. There are 24, I added 4 more just in case, if you didn’t like some of them… Eunhee, what is going on?”

My chest goes up and down frantically as I try to calm the whole tornado of emotions that starts within me. Panic, worry, sadness and more than anything else, anger. Pure anger. “I will murder him.”

“What? Who will you… Taehyung?”

“I said,” I slowly speak, pausing for deep breaths. “200 photos. 200 photos, no more, no less. 200 from which we would end up using more than 100. I said 200, not 20.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit.”

“What… where are you going?” Jeongguk asks as I jump off my chair and nearly fly over the desk to grab my handbag. I throw my phone inside of it and turn to look at him, only to find him flinching away from me. Apparently, I look as angry as I feel.

“I am going to Jimin’s birthday party,” I announce. “Where I will grab Kim Taehyung by the neck, drag him outside, throw him onto the ground and murder him in front of the entire student body. I’m thinking strangulation is the way to go. You should come too, take a few photos of it for the delayed magazine edition.”

“No!” Jeongguk snaps but I am already heading towards the door. His hand wraps around my wrist and he drags me back towards the desk.

“What?”

I don’t know what else to say because why the hell did he pull me like that?! I wasn’t actually going to murder Taehyung, no matter how much I might want to do so.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes at me and I feel even more stupid than he made me feel minutes ago. The nerve. “If you go there and yell at Taehyung, or even kill him in cold blood, you’re just going to end up wasting valuable time,” he tells me. Okay, true, I can’t argue with him on that one. “Not to mention that you won’t get the photos. He doesn’t have them on him at all times and even if he did, they aren’t edited.”

“So what you’re trying to tell me is that I am fucked? Like, missionary, sideways, in the ass fucked?”

“I wouldn’t choose that particular wording, but yes,” he sighs. “If you stay here, you’re not fucked. Just… follow me. It’ll make sense soon,” he seems impatient as he grabs hold of my wrist again and this time, he drags me out the door. I actually stumble to keep up with him, too confused to even ask him what the flying fuck he is doing and where the hell we’re going. He walks fast and with him dragging me behind him, I have no choice but to break into a light jog to keep my arm attached to my body.

Down the hallway and to the left, Jeongguk drags me towards the last door, in front of which he finally stops. He starts fidgeting and feeling himself up and down. It takes me a moment to realize that he is looking for the keys. “What are we doing here, what is this place?”

“This,” he unlocks the door and smiles at me mischievously. “Is my office.”

As soon as he turns on the light, it all makes perfect sense – it’s a darkroom. A darkroom which I had no idea existed, even though I have spent a bigger part of my college education just down the hallway. “Don’t just stand there, come on in,” Jeongguk urges me but I do not move. The hood that still covers half of his face, paired with the room’s red light, is making him look pretty ominous.

“No thanks, these places are as creepy as they seem in movies.”

Jeongguk laughs and shakes his head. “They’re not creepy. Suit yourself.”

“What the hell are we doing here?” I ask, feeling my earlier agitation return. Fix the mess then kill Taehyung. Stopping by a darkroom was not on my to-do list. “How the hell can this help?”

“As I said, this is my office,” he tells me and I see him rummaging through the top drawer in one of the desks that are lined up against a wall. “I keep my work here. Some, not all. Useless work mostly. Random campus photos I take just because I think the moment is worth capturing.”

“While that is very poetic and deep, how the heck can that help us now?”

“Haven’t I just said I take random campus photos?” he asks in annoyance. “I have at least one flash drive with random photos like the ones you might need. I’m a good photographer and,” he waves his hand and I notice something black in it – he walks over to me, takes my hand and puts the flash into it. “I’m the one who will make your words look good on paper.”

It’s not what he said – it’s the way he said it. For the first time tonight, his hood did not block my view of his entire face. The way his eyebrows lifted, followed by a smug smile and head tilt, my heart went into overdrive. His expression and the fact that he is a solid foot taller than I am makes it so easy for me to feel tiny, irrelevant, overpowered.

Despite being the talkative one of the duo, I am speechless for a moment because good lord, does he look hot right now. Like… please slam me against the wall and leave hickeys down my neck hot.

“Come on boss lady,” he laughs down at me. “Work awaits.”

What the fuck happened to the shy guy who couldn’t keep eye contact for longer than a second?! He is giving me whiplash! I again have to run to catch up with him but I do it without complaining, realizing that for tonight, he is my lifeline. This random dude who’s good at photography is my only hope.

Tonight’s going to be a very long night.

#jungkook smut #jungkook series #jungkook fanfiction #bts smut #bts jungkook #bts #bangtan #bangtan smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfics #jjk #jeongguk #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook

216 notes · View notes

1kook · 6 years

Text

crisis averted

❀: Chanyeol x (F) Reader

summary → The doorbell rings not even ten minutes later, and you buzz him up without even checking the little screen to see if it’s actually Chanyeol. But who else would show up at your door past midnight? → friends to lovers, sexual content (smut) → 5.2k

this isn't proofread lmao mobile users: there is a read more inserted but it doesn't work unless the post is reblogged so I'm sorry if you have to scroll through all this! :(

for reference x!

Chanyeol was in the middle of what was probably his third mid-life crisis when you’d first met him, his hair a pastel array of colors that seemed to reflect the tumultuous state of his emotions. You’d been alarmed at his appearance, never before seeing someone as mismatched as he’d been, his very obviously buff figure hidden beneath a multitude of loose clothing, his boyish facial features thrown for a loop whenever he spoke in that deep tone of his. He was constantly changing, balancing between the happiest person in the universe, and the biggest crybaby ever. But his emotional state wasn’t due to some traumatic event that had occurred to him, like the death of a loved one, or a break-up more severe than any drama writer could ever imagine, but it was simply because he wasn’t sure whether or not he turned the stove off that morning.

In short, Chanyeol was an enigma, a perplexing being whose preferred choice of action always contained the most complex solution, even when the simplest answer was available.

Perhaps thats why it’d been so easy to befriend him during college, with the way he fluttered from group to group, seemingly finding something to relate to within everyone he ever met. Chanyeol had become the planner of your group outings, mostly the instigator of all those weird three a.m. adventures, and though your friend circle seemed large, he’d always found a time to sneak in a little conversation between the two of you. Of course, he’d done that for everyone and his never-ending kindness was what had made him such a lovable character among you all, one of those guys that you remembered way after college as the life of the party, and, in most cases, the one that ended up a deadbeat crackhead.

Yet Chanyeol was different in the sense that he had high hopes for his future, dreams that eclipsed any possibility of him becoming a failure. He was dead set on his career as an architect, putting aside his pride to even attend tutoring for that mathematics class he was falling behind in. His determination to succeed in life was so strong, that it was no surprise he did end up in the career he wanted, and had even advanced through different promotions all within your first year out of college.

The way he’d slithered his way into your life after graduation was also confusing.

Though you’d still kept in touch with the majority of your college friends, he seemed to be the one that stuck out the most, his presence nearly inevitable in your daily life. It wasn’t anything too major, not like his clothes were in your house, but just tiny things, like how he’d somehow managed to sneak his copy of Tokyo Drift into your movie collection, or the annoying habit of his to line up all your shoes every time he visited. It was those little gestures that seemed to stand out the most in your apartment, and eventually, you weren’t the only one that noticed.

“Did Chanyeol come over?” Jongdae called from the kitchen, where he was supposed to be grabbing the two of you a bottle of water. You hummed in response, your attention primarily focused on the paperwork before you. Your current occupation was as an elementary school teacher, and though you loved working with kids, their handwriting was absolutely atrocious, and the only other person willing to strain their eyes for two hours straight happened to be your best friend.

“Yeah, he dropped by yesterday,” you responded, handing a sheet over to Jongdae as he dutifully returned to his spot on the floor by the coffee table. In exchange, he handed you the water bottle, and you barely cracked the lid open when he dove into his interrogation.

“He loves bothering you, doesn’t he?” He teased, and you could only offer a half-hearted shrug, gulping down the water instead. Jongdae nudged your side, and you slowly lowered the bottle, raising your brows at him as if he was saying something useless. He was, but he’d smack you over the head with a throw pillow if you said as much.

“Don’t you think he comes over a little too much for someone who’s just a friend?” He sighed, and you blinked.

The thought had occurred to you multiple times. Chanyeol’s visits were often, probably at least once a week, more frequent than Jongdae’s, and he was supposed to be your best friend. You didn’t mind them though, as his presence seemed to calm you in a way no one else’s did. But you could see why Jongdae had his suspicions, and from an outsiders perspective, it did seem like Chanyeol was a nuisance to you, and the fact most of the stories you shared about him included Chanyeol being a bit overbearing didn’t seem to help.

But you knew Chanyeol in a way Jongdae didn't, despite you all being college pals, and you knew he wouldn’t understand that Chanyeol wasn’t bothering you for the mere fact he wanted someone to annoy, but because he cared about you, and valued your friendship enough to check up on you. There was also the fat he brightened your day when he’d pop in, even if his stay was only for a few minutes with the sole intention of grabbing a water in the middle of his jog. He was naturally friendly and nurturing, and the sight of him sprawled across your sofa as you reheated leftovers, waiting to hear about your week, was so ingrained in your mind already.

You weren’t exactly sure when Chanyeol had morphed from ‘that one guy’ in your group to someone you found yourself relying on, even when nothing was wrong. Since your first introduction, he’d had two other midlife crises, the first one making him impulsively dye his hair a flaming red color, but he was your friend so you were mandated to be there for him whenever another minor inconveniences occurred in his admittedly fast-paced life.

Chanyeol’s hair had been that fiery color when your dirtbag boyfriend had dumped you two weeks before graduation. You remember the way you’d bumped into him as you climbed off the bus in front of your campus, and how he’d dropped his grocery bag in an attempt to comfort you. You’d barely known each other then, and the sickening crack his carton of eggs had made as he pulled you into a soft side hug had sent you into a spiraling panic.

But Chanyeol hadn’t minded, he even walked you across the campus until you reached your dorm building. It was the first instance you’d found yourself leaning for him, any sort of reservations you’d had before flying out the window as he saw you to your dorm, and even went as far as waiting for you to wash your face and crawl into bed, before shutting the lights off and promptly leaving.

“He’s my close friend,” you drawl when you realize you’d left Jongdae hanging for too long. He eyes you as if he wants to ask more, but you beat him to it. “You’re the one who said I should be nicer to him,” you point out, and revel in the defeated sigh he gives in response.

Jongdae stays a while longer, but once the sun begins setting, he leaves. He’s been working weird shifts at work lately, so you don’t beg him to help you any longer, and even wrap up some of the homemade gelatin you’d made yesterday for him to take on his way out.

You’re left alone in your thoughts for the rest of the night, until Chanyeol texts you around midnight, and you contemplate ignoring it as you open your retainer case, face freshly washed and hair pulled away from your face. You’re beyond tired, and tomorrow’s Saturday, so you can sleep in for as long as you want; you want nothing more than to collapse right now.

But your curiosity gets the best of you and you find yourself setting aside your retainers in favor of reaching for your phone, swiping a finger across the screen until your messages open up and your faced with a challenge.

chanyeol [12:13 pm] we have a problem.

You can feel your last peaceful exhale leave you like the ocean’s pulling tide in the early morning hours, Chanyeol’s text burning itself into the back of your eyelids as you let them flutter shut. You can’t stop the palm you raise to your face, your pointer finger massaging your temples as you begin considering how to go about this. You could easily ignore the message and tell him in the morning that you’d already been asleep then. He was familiar with your sleeping habits enough to believe such a lie. But there’s also the possibility that Chanyeol really is in trouble this time, and not going through another minor inconvenience that even a toddler could easily get around.

___ [12:15 pm] what is your problem?

He responds right away.

chanyeol [12:15 pm] our* problem

chanyeol [12:16 pm] i’m coming over.

You nearly slam your head against your vanity. Leave it to Chanyeol to deprive you of your sleep. After the week you’ve had, you have to talk yourself out of strangling him the second he shows up. It’d only taken him five minutes to ruin your night so it’s only fair.

Pushing your irritation aside, you go about your apartment, picking up the stray socks here and there, and even doing a light sweep of the place. You weren’t kidding about your week, so it was natural your place had taken a little extra hit from your growing stress in the form of scattered cookie crumbs and misplaced shoes.

The doorbell rings not even ten minutes later, and you buzz him up without even checking the little screen to see if it’s actually Chanyeol. But who else would show up at your door past midnight? As you walk past the front door, broom in hand, you unlock the door before continuing down the hall to return the broom to its rightful place in the spare closet.

Chanyeol bursts in without knocking, a habit of his that had terrified the living daylights out of you when he'd first began visiting you. You don’t think much of it now, and don’t even flinch at his clambering as he tugs off his shoes, trailing your way back to the front door to greet him.

“Hey,” you say and all is calm for exactly a quarter of a second, before Chanyeol’s entire face goes up in flames. You’re immediately startled, and don't waste time ushering him inside as he struggles out a greeting that is only half comprehensible, his flustered state worrying you the longer he stutters about. “Jesus, Yeol, what happened to you?”

Chanyeol’s looking every bit the abducted civilian as he sits awkwardly perched on your couch, his brown eyes hidden behind the thin glass layer of his spectacles. Suddenly, you notice the soft hues of his hair, peeking out beneath the brim of his hat. Without much warning, you snatch the accessory off his head, greeted by the sight of his wavy hair colored a pastel shade, similar to the it’d been when you first met.

“I-I can explain!” he exclaims, snatching the hat back out of your grasp to stuff over his hair. He’s visibly a mess, and you can already tell he’s going through another one of his crises just by the way his gaze flickers between you and the potted plant behind you.

“Oh, dude,” you breathe, trying to chance another peek at his hair, which he dutifully avoids by clamping a palm over the top of his hat, holding it down firmly. “You’re going through some shit, aren’t you?” You plop down beside him, criss-crossing your legs as you turn to face his tense figure.

“You have no idea,” he whines, before slumping into the couch, long arms spreading over the entirety of the back. His hair makes him appear way tanner than he normally is, the soft pinks and purples curling around his ears where the hat doesn’t exactly cover.

You know you should feel sympathetic, but you can’t help the snort that escapes your lips as you stare at Chanyeol. He’d been so put together last week as he’d rambled on and on about some new project at work, and how awesome Sehun’s birthday party had been. He’d just finished moving into a new apartment too, one that allowed him to finally reclaim his dog from his family home and live with him. From an outsider’s perspective, Chanyeol couldn’t possibly have anything to complain about, especially with the life he lead now.

Carefully, you tug the black hat off his head, and when he doesn’t protest, you begin running your fingers through his newly dyed hair. You’re surprised he hasn’t begun balding, especially with the rate he changes up his hair; it’s unusually silky for someone who pours way too many chemicals into it.

“Wanna talk about it?” You hum, and his eyes flutter shut beneath your touch. He sighs, and you can already tell he’s going to dive into the venting of a lifetime right now. Hopefully, you can derail his stress enough that he doesn’t impulsively dye his hair another color tomorrow. By the way he’s slowly dissolving into a puddle beneath your fingers, it’s possible.

“They wanna build a villa,” Chanyeol murmurs, head tilting just the slightest in your direction. “A fucking villa,” he repeats, and an unamused huff leaves his throat. “Can you believe that, ___? He contracts me for a bachelor pad, and after we’ve finally hammered out all the stupid little details he spent months crying about, his fiancée says she wants a fucking villa.” He groans, and you run your nails against his scalp, until his agitated grunt melts into a soft whine.

You nod along, even though his eyes are shut, but you know he can feel your sympathy as you toy with his hair. “But it gets worse!” He shifts, so his head is pressed into the couch cushions and turned your way, his body slowly becoming one with the cotton beneath him. “Apparently, Toben can’t be in the complex backyard until I get him spayed, which, I could’ve sworn he was, but apparently he wasn’t!”

“You should take him to Minseok’s clinic,” you suggest, voice quiet compared to his loud tone as he continues on complaining over you. You don’t mind, and just listen for a few more minutes as he tells you everything wrong with his life, including how he’d gone to dye his hair a dark red, only to hastily decide on the pastel mess it was now, without considering the fact his work dress code only called for moderately natural hair colors. Now he’d have to go again before Monday to dye it black or brown (’or something! I don’t know!’) again.

You’ve long since abandoned combing through his locks, and instead chose to pick at a stray thread on one of your throw pillows, listening intently to everything he said. He rarely had moments like these, where every single thing seemed to get on nerves, but you yourself had plenty. And he was always there for you, so it was only just that you did the same for him.

By the time Chanyeol’s irritation is reaching its end, he’s basically cursing everything, even things that don’t have any correlation to his current distress. “And also, I haven’t vacuumed the living room carpet in weeks, the bathroom soap is about to run out, and I haven’t gotten laid in three fucking months now,” he whines, eyes screwing shut as his lips push out into a pout.

He seems settled after that, his ragged breath slowly turning into a soft sigh, until he’s completely cooled down from his blow up. “You should vacuum while Toben’s at the vet,” you say afterwards, brushing a stray hair behind your ear as you lean into the couch, one hand propped on your elbow.

Unconsciously, your fingers stretch out to toy with his hair again, but this time, his eyes flutter open. “And there’s definitely an unopened hand wash under the sink,” you add as you recall the tangerine scented bottle you’d seen last week when you’d all gone over for game night at Chanyeol’s place.

He sighs, leaning into your touch. He looks ridiculously soft in this state, and with his hair array of pinks and purples, the occasional baby blue peeking out, he looked almost heavenly. “You can’t have such an easy solution for everything,” he huffs, an though his comment is sarcastic, his tone is lighthearted. You give a noncommittal hum at his words, and his brown eyes slowly find yours. The glint in his eyes is different then, nothing like the jittery mess that had walked through your door. “What about getting laid?” He teases, the corner of his lip curling upwards.

You roll your eyes. “Just go to a club, or something,” you reply offhandedly, before turning away from him to stretch your cramping legs out. Chanyeol shifts, and when you sit back again, he’s sat up now.

“What if I don’t wanna go to a club?” He pushes, running his fingers through his hair until it’s pushed away from his forehead.

You shrug. “Then go to a brothel.”

Chanyeol huffs out a cackle, which you ignore in favor of watching the way his lips pull tight around his smile, and his Adams apple bops as he throws his head back. When he’s done, he turns his gaze back to you, and for the first time, Jongdae’s words ring in your mind again.

You shoo them away quickly though. “You have too many problems, Yeol,” you point out, and he chuckles again, though this time it’s more muted and less as amused.

“Yeah,” he muses, eyes trailing over your face in a way he’s never really done before. He’s eyeing you again, which you try to ignore, but when your gazes meet, suddenly you feel taken away at the intensity of his stare. It’s as if you’re suddenly realizing your situation. Alone with a man on a Friday night, both of you gazing at each other too deeply for people who are just friends. The sudden realization startles you into looking away first, eyes landing on the papers scattered across your coffee table.

A hand presses to your thigh, bare due to the length of your shorts. “My biggest problem,” Chanyeol murmurs, and your eyes instinctively snap back to him. He grins, his chest rising as he takes in another heavy breath. “Is you.”

“Huh?” You question, and for the first time, you feel nervous in front of Chanyeol. You feel unsure of the way he’s gazing at you, at the way his fingers press into your thigh, and the way he looks like he belongs there, nestled inside your apartment as if he’s always been there. Perhaps he does, you think, as your eyes slowly trace down his face until you catch yourself staring at his mouth, his lips turned upwards in an arrogant smirk you rarely see on Chanyeol.

He leans forward then, and your body betrays you, letting him press against you until he has you between his warm body and the armrest of the furniture. “You’re my biggest problem, ___,” he sighs, his mouth suddenly pressed against your neck, and you can’t help the tiny gasp that fights its way out of your throat.

“I-I don’t understand,” you breathe, though your hands curl their way around Chanyeol’s shoulders, and can feel the twitch of his muscles as his hand trails up your side. “Chanyeol,” you gasp, when he suddenly presses a kiss beneath your ear, and your faithless body arches up into him.

“God, ___” he says against the skin of your neck, and you jump when you feel his hand pull against the back of your thigh, slowly encouraging your legs aside until he’s cradled between your legs. “I come over here all the time, take you out to eat whenever you want, and I even buy you makeup shit that I don’t even know anything about,” he huffs, and nips at the vein in your neck. Your breath stutters and you find yourself melting under his touch, similar to the way he had been earlier when you’d brushed your fingers through his hair.

“I’ve been trying to win you over for the longest time, love,” he murmurs, his mouth on your neck getting bolder with every word he says. He pulls away only for a moment, brown eyes meeting yours as he quietly says, “you stress me the fuck out.”

You can’t help the snort that leaves your throat, and the blindingly bright smile Chanyeol sends your way is enough to make your heart tap dance in your chest. “Yeol, you’re the worst!” You huff, rolling your head back until it’s over the curve of the armrest. He seems weirdly complacent as he watches you war with yourself, all your past theories suddenly bubbling to the surface.

Jongdae was one hundred percent correct in his weird assumptions of Chanyeol, and though a deep part of you always knew he was way too touchy for someone who was just a friend, you hadn’t believed someone as marvelous as Chanyeol could be interested in you.

He doesn’t let you drown in your past self doubts for long before he’s resuming kissing along your neck, his lips slowly inching their way up. “Do you know how annoying it is having to watch you whine about how no one likes you every weekend,” he murmurs against your jaw, where he’s making quick work of reaching your lips.

“Shut up,” you whine, arms twining around his back to finally pull him closer. “Just kiss me before I kick you out.”

Chanyeol complies, pressing his pink lips to yours in what is your first kiss with him. He’s a disgustingly good kisser, and for a moment you kick yourself for letting him wander off with random women at parties, women who’d gotten to see another side of him, when you could’ve been seeing him in this light, hearing the sounds he makes as he pushes against your core. “You’re so pretty, baby,” he chuckles when he pulls away, cheeks adorably flushed and lips sinfully red and plump. God, do you really hate your own obliviousness.

Though he pecks your lips once more, he soon begins working his way in the direction he’d come from, lips pressing to your neck at all the right spots, leaving you a panting mess beneath him. The shirt you’re wearing only works in Chanyeol’s favor, and he crumples the over-sized material in one fist, pulling it away to expose one side of your neck.

“Ch-Chanyeol,” you pant when he shifts against you, and something brushes against your core. Your hands dig into the back of his own shirt, fisting the material under your tight grasp.

He hums, his hands finally releasing you to push up your shirt instead, long fingers tickling up your skin the further he goes. You’d tugged on a lacy bralette when he’d first announced his visit, too lazy to tug on a real bra but not bold enough to let the girls swing in his presence. Apparently, none of that mattered now as Chanyeol’s fingers traced along the soft lace of the only article keeping his hands from your hardening nipples.

He pushes your shirt back, and leans away just the slightest to stare at the cute lace that hugged your skin. “Wow,” he breathes, flashing you another one of those dopey smiles. There’s a bow sewed into the center of the garment, a dainty little thing that sits in the valley between your breasts, and you know what he’s going to say before he says it. “You’re like a present.”

You pinch his bicep, though he probably doesn’t feel it through all that muscle because all Chanyeol does is laugh, obnoxiously loud for someone currently making out. But it’s endearing in a way you never thought sex would be, his hands stroking up your side as he gazes at you intimately. “Hurry up,” you tell him, deciding the best way to get him back on track is with more skin. So you tug the shirt over your head, and make quick work of disposing his own.

“Relax, baby,” he says once you’ve managed to wrangle him out of his long sleeve shirt. There’s a new tattoo on his clavicle, a date that you hadn’t seen before, and when you point it out questioningly, Chanyeol’s only response is, “I love my mom.”

“Of course you do,” you murmur, before pulling him by the neck to kiss you again. He does so without complaint, and repositions himself above you until he’s somewhat on his knees, somewhat lying down, his skin on yours scorching.

Chanyeol’s hand is already under the soft material of your bra, fingers toying with your hardened nipple, when he decides he needs to kiss you again, surging forward to sloppily press his mouth against yours. His tongue is all too skilled as he licks into the hot inside of your mouth, and you know he has that stupidly dopey grin on from the way you occasionally feel his teeth press against your lips. “Stop it,” you quietly whine, fingers knotted in the pastel tresses of his hair.

“I can’t help it, baby,” he replies, and you have a hard time swallowing the moan that builds in the back of your throat when he finally frees both your nipples from their clothed cage, only to capture them between his fingers. “You look so cute right now.”

Before you can point out his cheesiness, he’s manhandling you around the couch, until you’re seated in his lap. The dark shorts he’d shown up in have shifted from all the movement, until they’re clinging dangerously low on the dip of his waist, all taut muscles on display before you. He taps your arms, urging you to raise your arms, before he’s pulling the bralette over your head, and you’re left in the same state of dress as him, a feat he doesn’t let last long.

Chanyeol helps you shimmy out of the cotton shorts you’d been wearing, and when you’re finally seated on his lap in only a lacy little underwear you’d bought at a Victoria’s Secret sale, he takes you in. His hands are as wild as he is, tracing over your shoulders and down your spine, a ticklish feeling that makes you unconsciously arch into him, pressing your breasts a little too close to his face. Chanyeol doesn’t mind, and had you not sat back down onto his lap, he’d have leaned forward to lick at your nipples.

When he’s satisfied with the mapping out he’s done of your body, he lets his fingers trail between your legs, running one lone finger over the little dip where your folds meet. Your body twitches, and you bite down the moan building in your throat. “C’mon, ___,” he murmurs, lips pressed to your neck as his fingers continue their ministrations. “Tell me what you want.” He presses one finger against your clit, and you gasp, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“Y-You,” you stammer, already feeling the last traces of control leaving your body as you submit to him, body completely malleable under his touch. “I want you, Yeol,” you whimper, and you reach your hands out towards him in a last ditch effort to stabilize yourself. One hand digs into the taut muscles of his shoulder, while the other tangles itself in that bright head of his, your fingers buried between strands of pink and purple.

“Really?” Chanyeol grins, and before you can respond, he’s pushed aside your underwear and has one finger gently prodding at your slick pussy. His finger now halfway submerged inside of you, he presses a kiss against your neck, where a thin sheen of sweat has accumulated. His finger twists inside of you, and you're vaguely aware that he’s knuckles deep, as he adds in that low voice of his, “you like my fingers, baby?”

You nod, your lip bruising between your teeth. He’s only got one finger inside of you, yet you’re already a withering mess in front of him, thighs quivering with every curl of his digit, your whole body jolting when he brushes his thumb against your clit.

Chanyeol continues on fingering you, basking in the sounds you make, and the way you cry his name when he brushes against the sweet spot inside of you. You’re sweaty and gross, but the way he glances up at you like you’re an ancient goddess makes your heart thud faster until you can hear the blood rushing in your ears.

He slips another finger in to properly scissor you, and you nearly weep from the sensations coursing through your body. “Faster,” you beg, voice hoarse from all the incoherent babbling you’ve been doing, but Chanyeol complies, twisting his wrist hard and fast, until you’re pushing down into his fingers, desperate for more.

“Look at you,” he says, lips sucking at your collarbone. At this point, you’re contributing equally as much as Chanyeol to your impending orgasm, rutting against his hand like an animal in heat. He doesn’t seem to mind as he kisses along your damp skin, sucking marks against places you know will be hard to cover up, but in the moment you don’t seem to mind. “You’re making such a mess,” Chanyeol sighs, and when you glance down, his hand is glistening with your own pleasure.

Your orgasm is slowly creeping up on you, and your body feels ridiculously weak, your mind in an even more frazzled state from all that’s happened so far. You fall forward, burying your face against Chanyeol’s neck as his hands get faster and your hips get slower.

“Yeol,” you pant, and his hips unconsciously thrust up into your core, drawing a long moan from you. The sound only seems to work him further, and you’re suddenly aware he’s been holding himself back in favor of pleasuring you first. “It’s so good,” you tell him, lips flush against his skin, you tongue languidly licking at the spot just beneath his ear.

His makes a sound to let you know he’s listening, fingers curling inside of you as you continue whimpering against his chest. “Please, Yeol,” you whine, suddenly grinding your hips forward until his hand is trapped between the two of you and his covered cock is rubbing against your folds. “You make me feel s-so good.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you to finally release, the combined sensations of his thumb rubbing against your clit and his rock-hard outline against your lower lips enough to turn you into a whimpering mess before him, his name rolling off your tongue like honey, until your hips stutter against his, and you briefly fall into a placid state between his arms.

When you come to again, the feeling of his raging cock beneath you is enough to make your legs tremble again, but Chanyeol doesn’t let it go any further just yet.

“You were so good for me, baby,” he murmurs as he presses soft kisses along your shoulder, before grabbing your chin between his fingers to press his lips to yours. His mouth is still as hot as it was before, and you melt into his touch, running both hands through his light hair and tugging until he’s moaning against your lips, his hips slowly stirring beneath you.

You pull away with a loud pop, quickly pressing your lips against the corner of his jaw, and sucking a light bruise onto the hot skin. “Well,” he sighs, voice airy, “that solves one problem.”

You bite down hard, yet Chanyeol still laughs.

#park chanyeol smut #park chanyeol imagine #pcy smut #pcy imagine #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol smut #mine #whew boy i wrote this all in two hours #a bitch is struggling!!!#my eyesight!!! none existent #exo fic

146 notes · View notes

broken-clover · 5 years

Text

12 Days of Whump- Search Party

Technically not late! At least one was posted before midnight. I hope to heck tomorrow’s actually comes in on time. I didn’t proofread as well as I usually do, I’ll look over it in the morning just to see if I can make it any better.

Day 11 of the 12 days of Whump- Search Party, featuring Zappa, Faust, and the Paranormal Investigation Team!

“Maan, it’s been a wild year, huh?”

Zappa perked up at that, turning to look at Randy. “I suppose so. What makes you say that now?”

“Are you serious, where have you been?” The man wore a cheshire smile as he leaned back in his chair. “Did’ja forget the fact that the last time we were in here, we wound up solving a mystery with demons and most up us wound up missing for two weeks?”

“Ah. Right.” Zappa paled a little. “I was hoping I’d finally be able to repress that memory.”

“You were the only one who didn’t fly out of a building like a goddamn firework! Besides, there was also the whole ‘end of the world because the pope turned out to be a genocidal robot’ thing.”

“Aside from that, though, has it really been that interesting? Up until the last couple of months, nothing was really happening.”

Randy’s smile fell. “Why’re you being such a downer today?”

Zappa shrugged. “Just don’t feel like teasing fate, is all. There’s only a few hours left until the new year, so I want to try and make it without any other accidents.”

“My food’s ready!” Alexis burst through the door, hoisting a dish of some kind of pasta. “Did you guys finish already?”

“I brought some drinks from home!” Randy gestured to a trio of colorful bottles on the table. “Nothing alcoholic, though, they wouldn’t let me ship that across country borders.”

The woman laughed at that, putting her steaming container down. “Bummer. How ‘bout you, Zappa? Anything good from Australia?”

“My mother sent some of the jams we make with the crops we grow.” He reached out and picked up a jar. “It’s really good on toast! The onion jelly is my favorite.”

“Who the heck makes jelly out of onions?” Shaking his head, Randy made a little gagging noise. “Friggin Australians…”

“Greetings, paranormal team! I come bearing food!”

All three turned to the door, bearing various shades of confusion as a too-tall figure ducked inside the room.

“Dr. Faust?” Zappa asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Spreading some festivity!” The bag-headed man’s voice was at its usual whimsical tone. “Mr Kiske mentioned there was some New Year’s celebration. I’d planned to head out in the morn, so a bit of last-minute festivities seemed apt before my departure! If it helps, I did bring my own dish to contribute.”

Randy glanced at his companions. “Listen, doc, I dunno why-”

“-You feel like you’d be unwelcome!” Alexis cut him off. “By all means, find a seat! We’d love to try whatever it is you’ve made!”

Faust lit up at that, though it was hard to tell with his face obscured. “Well, don’t mind if I do!”

It didn’t take long after that for the rest of the paranormal investigation team to show up, with everyone bringing a different dish to add to the swiftly-growing pile on the table. A few people eyes Faust’s unexpected appearance with wariness, but most of them were too caught up in the festive mood to react with more than a quick glance.

“Here’s to a new year, guys!”

“Hold it, Randy!” Someone interjected. “It’s New Years! We can’t toast without champagne!”

“Huh? Why not?”

“I dunno...just feels wrong, I guess.”

Someone else sent Faust an aside glance. “Should we really be discussing champagne around a doctor?”

“A bit of alcohol can be good for the cardiovascular system!” Faust chimed in. “Besides, I’m not immune to indulgences, myself. No need to hesitate around me!”

“Uhh, doc?” Randy said. “What exactly is it that you brought?”

“Hmm? Ah, I suppose I forgot to say that, didn’t I?” He made a little gesture towards his dish, a mix of something white in a red sauce. “Mapo tofu! Very popular where I grew up. A bit spicy, but very tasty.”

Someone raised their spoon. “Oh, oh, pass it! I wanna try!”

The team fell into loud, cheerful chatter, swapping stories and memories from the past year and their hopes for the next. Everyone seemed to lose track of time as the pitch-black sky opened up and began dumping down snow, creating a beautiful view through the unobscured windows.

Before long, the numerous dishes had been almost picked clean. “Ohhh, whoever brought the ziti, it was delicious, and also I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Alexis shook her head in disappointment. “Why did you eat so much, Randy?”

“Such good sauce....right, Zappa?”

When he got no response, he sat up and looked around. “Zappa? Where’d he go?”

“He mentioned he was leaving to go and get something.” Replied Faust. “Though, now that you mention it, it has been a rather long amount of time since I’ve seen him.”

“Randy, do you have his com?” Alexis asked.

“Yeah, good point. I’ll just send him a ping and see where he’s gone to. I’m sure it’s nothing…”

The chatter in the room quickly settled down as the magic com rang once, twice. It kept ringing over and over again, as the atmosphere grew more and more tense.

”Hi, um, this is Zappa, please leave a message-”

“The heck?” Randy looked at his own fading com in disbelief. “I can’t think of the last time he hasn’t picked up. Maybe the weather’s messing with it?”

Faust was already out of his chair. “This is concerning. Would everyone be willing to partake in a search before dessert?”

Unsure murmurs were passed between the group. Ultimately, nobody seemed to have any major objections, though the current ambiguity was making people worry.

“Here, this is the frequency for his magic-com, keep trying to call it until we can get him to pick up.” Randy gave a quick demonstration. “He can’t have gone too far. I guess we can split up into groups and look around whatever shops are still open and see if they’ve seen him at all.”

Despite the initial aversion, the team easily divided themselves into smaller groups and started heading out via the nearest castle exit. The weather was just as unpleasant as it looked, and everyone was immediately buffeted by snow.

“Sheesh, what the hell possessed him to go out in this weather?” Wrapping arms across his chest, Randy looked back and forth before picking a direction and starting to walk, followed closely behind by Faust and Alexis.

“I’m not sure. Though considering the temperature, it does concern me quite a bit. I do hope he’s managed to find shelter.” Faust said.

The town outside of the castle’s walls was bright with lights, but very few buildings were open so late with it being so late on New Year’s. Randy kept trying to make calls, only to be met with the answering machine over and over again.

“The grocer said he hasn’t seen him?”

Alexis shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Dammit. I’ll try calling again.”

Faust perked up. “Mr Randy, is your com malfunctioning?”

“Huh? No, why do you ask?”

“I’m getting an odd sort of feedback. Miss Alexis, is your com running?”

“No?”

“Then why…”

The doctor took off running down the snow-covered path, leaving his two companions behind. Randy and Alexis exchanged looks before sprinting off after him.

“The heck is he doing?” She asked.

“Finally lost it? I don’t know much about the guy. Just try not to lose him!”

As it turned out, Faust hadn’t been running off for no reason. As the two of them turned around the next corner, they spotted the man hunched over next to a lump half-buried in the snow.

“Is that…?”

“There we are, there we go.” Faust was muttering quietly, barely audible over the wind. He brushed his long fingers over the snow, feeling something underneath it. “Just keep ticking. I know it’s cold out. You’re going to be fine.”

In one smooth motion, he pulled the shape out of the snow and held it tightly. When he turned back around, Alexis and Randy realized that it was in fact Zappa, curled up in a ball and seemingly unconscious.

“He was out here the whole time?” Alexis sounded horrified. “Is he dead?”

“No, no.” Faust’s voice was unexpectedly calm. “Just cold. We’re going home now.”

It was Randy’s turn to be confused. “Home? What are you going on about? What about us?”

The doctor made a little motion with one hand. A green door suddenly appeared in the middle of the street. When it swung open, they weren’t greeted with the sight of the other end of the street. Instead, it opened up to reveal a dark, unfamiliar landscape, filled with odd somethings that neither of them could identify from a glance.

“Of course you’re coming with us. Step inside my door.”

The two looked at each other again, and reluctantly followed Faust inside.

++++++

What seemed like only a second later, the small group was dumped back out into the dining room, with everything exactly as they’d left it.

Aliexis looked back at the door as it swung shut and began to fade. “W-what the hell was that?!”

Randy looked around. “Huh?”

“In the door? Didn’t you see that?”

“Nah, I blinked.”

“You blinked?!”

While the two squabbled, Faust made his way over to one of the room’s couches, settling Zappa down on it. He reached into hammerspace and pulled out his oddly-patterned green tarp, lifting it up to be used as a blanket. Before he could toss it over the motionless figure, though, he noticed that he seemed to be wrapped around something.

“Oh? What have you got there?”

With a bit of maneuvering, he pulled out out a yellowish bottle, adorned with a pretty blue ribbon. Curiosity piqued, he took a glance at the card that hung off of it.

’Congratulations on a great year, guys, here’s to one more!

~Zappa’

“Aww…” With his free hand, Faust tossed the tarp-blanket over him, offering a little pat on the head.

Randy turned his head at the sound. “Faust, you say something?”

“Well, ah,” he hoisted up the bottle, “anyone up for a glass of champagne?”

#*dabs into the void*#guilty gear #Faust #Zappa

7 notes · View notes