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tobesolonely · 3 years

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it’s not christmas ‘til you come home

a/n: hello!! please enjoy this piece from my dad!harry universe! (u dont have to read any of them for it to make sense, but it would be cool if u did! loosely based on it’s not christmas ‘til you come home by norah jones <3 hope you enjoy! thank u to @harryysstyless for beta reading for me!! happy holidays everyone :)

warnings: SMUT, a bit of angst <3 word count: ~5.1k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

December 23rd, 2:00 PM

For as long as you and Harry have been in a relationship, you’ve never not spent a Christmas together.

Before expanding your family, you and he used to hop from party to party every Christmas Eve. Both of you would be absolutely trashed by the time Harry’s driver would drop you off at his house in the early hours of the morning. You’d sleep in until approximately noon, willing your hangovers to go away before finally making it down the stairs and into the kitchen to prepare two steaming cups of coffee. The two of you would then make your way into the living room and exchange gifts (where Harry always went way over the budget you’d set).

Once you had your first child, Allison, your yearly tradition of party hopping and getting so drunk you could hardly put one foot in front of the other was no more. Instead, you and Harry opted for calm nights in, watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa until she eventually grew tired and got carried up to bed. You would wait an hour or so before springing into action, playing Santa and setting out all of the gifts she asked for and then some. Harry never forgot to take a big bite out of the cookie and carrot left out for Santa and his reindeer.

This tradition stayed the same once your second baby, Oliver, was born. Even though he was too young to know what was going on, Harry was still excited to spoil him rotten this year as it was his first Christmas. However, given the current state of the world, you were afraid Harry would not be here for the first time ever.

“Mumma, when’s daddy coming home?” your six-year-old, Ally, asked for what had to be the seventh time that afternoon. “I made him a drawing for his gift ‘nd I can’t wait for him to see it!”

“Let me see what you drew for Daddy, love bug,” you say cheerily, purposefully glossing over her question. Ally proudly holds her drawing up next to her face. She looks up at you with wide eyes, awaiting a compliment from you.

“That’s gorgeous, bug! Daddy’s gonna love it,” you inform her. “Maybe you can stick a lil’ bow on it and set it under the tree for him, hmm?”

“Good idea, Mumma!” Ally runs to the box where you kept all the supplies for gift wrapping, digging around for a pink bow to stick on the corner of her drawing.

While she’s preoccupied with finding the perfect bow to place on her drawing for Harry, you take a quick glance at your phone. He still hadn’t gotten back to you since last night’s quick conversation when he very briefly mentioned he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it home.

He was filming in Los Angeles. You shared your uncertainties about him going before he departed but in the end, this was an opportunity you didn’t want him to miss out on. You read the Los Angeles Times free articles on your phone daily, keeping track of the state of the pandemic in Southern California. You knew it was much worse there than it was at home in London. You feared what you were afraid of was sadly bound to happen— Harry may get stuck in LA.

You didn’t want to say anything to your curious daughter because communication with him had been so sparse. You didn’t know anything for certain yet. But what were you supposed to think? You knew flying nationally wasn’t a good idea at the moment, never mind internationally.

“Hey bug, d’ya think you can watch your brother for a moment? Mumma’s gotta go make a phone call.”

You hear your daughter let out a slightly irritated sigh. “I suppose I can, Mumma.” Ally responds with a voice laced with exasperation. You chuckle slightly under your breath at your overly dramatic (much like her dad) six-year-old and head into the kitchen, quickly dialing your husband’s familiar number.

“Hello?”

You let out a sigh of relief upon hearing Harry’s low, hoarse voice.

“Hi, honey. Just checkin’ in to see how things are going…” you hear shuffling on his end. “It’s December 23rd, you know.”

“I know, love.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Six in tha’ mornin’ here.”

“I’m sorry, H. S’just Allison keeps on askin’ when you’ll be home and ‘m just so worried you won’t make it home on time and you’ll miss Oliver’s first Christmas—“

“Darling,” Harry interrupts your anxiety-fueled ramble. “‘M gonna make it home. Have I ever not been there when I said I would?”

“No,” you say quietly. “I’m just worried, Harry. I hear traveling is going to get very strict because they’re trying to prevent people from going anywhere for Christmas…”

“Fine, then I’ll get my own plane with jus’ me and a pilot. Wear a mask the entire time and whatnot. Yanno I can make that happen if it’s necessary, pet.”

Harry’s calm demeanor about the whole situation brings you a bit of peace. Perhaps you were catastrophizing something that wasn’t as big of a deal as you thought it was a mere two minutes ago. If he wasn’t worried about not making it home, you didn’t see any reason to stress about it— not for one second longer.

“Okay then,” you reply, still a bit wary of his travel plans. “What shall I tell your daughter? She’s drivin’ me up the walls asking where you are every twenty minutes.”

Your husband lets out a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. “Tell her not to eat up all the Christmas cookies before I get a taste of one.”

December 24th, 8:45 AM

Part of you was hoping you’d wake up on Christmas Eve and Harry would be tucked into bed next to you, plump lips parted, the sound of his snores the only noise in the room. However, you were a rational woman, if nothing else. You knew he wouldn’t be by your side when you woke up.

You make your way down the hall and peek inside your son’s room. He was fast asleep, plump thumb in his mouth. You smile at your sleeping baby and gently close the door behind you, deciding to let him sleep in a bit longer before waking him up to feed him.

Next, you walk to your daughter's room, gently pushing open the door in case she was still sleeping. Instead, you find her sat at her desk, deeply focused on what appeared to be another drawing.

“Good morning, lovebug,” you greet your daughter in a sing-songy voice. “You’re up early. What are you working on?”

“Makin’ a letter for Santa,” she replies, not bothering to look up from what she was doing.

“A letter for Santa?” You start racking your brain for anything you and Harry could’ve possibly forgotten to get for Ally, but you finished your Christmas shopping for your children way back in November.

“Yes,” she answers matter-of-factly. “‘M askin’ him to make sure my Daddy is home by tonight so we can eat cookies together and watch Toy Story, Mumma.”

“I’m sure Santa will make that happen for you,” you reassure her. “You’ve been a very good girl this year, been so helpful with Olly and doin’ so well in school. The least Santa can do is get you whatever you want.” You see her smile as she digs around in her crayon box.

“Can we wait ‘til Daddy gets home to make Santa’s cookies, Mumma?”

“Sure we can, bug,” Ally claps her hands together excitedly, bouncing around in her tiny chair. “Gonna go make some pancakes, does that sound yummy?”

“Can we have chocolate chip pancakes please?”

“Are you askin’ me that because your dad isn’t here to throw a fit about it?” You give her a knowing smile, causing her to giggle.

“Maaaaybe…” Your daughter turns to face you, swinging her legs back and forth.

“If I make your chocolate chip pancakes, you can’t tell your dad. Deal?” You hold up your pinky. Ally gets up and runs to you and you bend down slightly so she can link her finger with yours.

“I pinky promise, Mumma!”

“Our little secret, yeah?” she nods. “Keep an ear out for your brother for me, bug. I’ll be downstairs.”

December 24th, 3:00 PM

“Love? ‘M afraid I got some bad news...”

As soon as Harry’s voice comes through on the other line, you can tell whatever news he’s about to share with you won’t be what you’re wanting to hear.

“What is it?”

It’s silent for what feels like entirely too long. You get up from your position on the couch next to Ally, telling her you’ll be right back. After breakfast, she convinced you to watch Toy Story with her, which quickly turned into a whole Disney movie marathon.

“Not so sure I’ll be able to make it home.”

You’re not sure if it’s his calm tone that bothers you, the fact that you didn’t want him to go to Los Angeles in the first place, or simply the fact that you and your children missed him terribly and haven’t seen him in nearly a month–– but your mood changes from relaxed to undeniably outraged in three seconds flat.

“You’re kidding.” Your tone is sharp, venomous. Harry once again takes a moment before responding, knowing that the current tone of your voice means he’d best proceed with caution.

“‘M not, love. I woke up early and everything to try and get this sorted out, it’s 7 AM so I was gonna try and catch an early flight––”

“I told you I didn’t want you going to LA,” you cut him off, voice rising slightly. “You knew how bad the pandemic was getting there. I told you this would happen.”

“What do you suppose I do then, Y/N?” His tone is becoming equally as sharp. “Y’want me to tell ‘em, “Sorry, I don’t give a fuck about the travel restrictions. My wife wants me home so let's make it happen!” ‘S that what you want me to do?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Harry,” you spit. “I’ll give the phone to your daughter and you can tell her you won’t be home in time for Christmas, then.”

“Y/N…” his tone is calm again. Fearful. “Don’t make me do that.”

“She woke up early to write a letter to Santa to tell him she wants you home by tonight, Harry,” your tone softens as well. “Even Olly has been asking for you. Swear his new favorite word is ‘dada’.” He laughs at this as do you, and the shared tension that was present just minutes ago dissipates.

“Just… lemme try a few more things before I tell her, yeah?”

“Harry, it’s already three here,” you gently remind him. “Even if you do make it home today, she’ll be asleep by the time you’re home. I think you just need to tell her.”

Your husband sighs, knowing you were undeniably correct. “Alright. Give Allison the phone, please.”

December 24th, 8 PM

“Almost time for you to head to bed soon, yeah Allybug?” Your daughter lets out a loud sigh in response, not shifting her gaze from the television to you. Ever since Harry told her he wouldn’t be home in time to eat cookies with her, she’s hardly said a word. She’s never experienced a Christmas Eve without her father so understandably, she was missing him tonight.

You shift Olly, who was falling asleep nursing on your lap, into a different position so you could face your daughter directly. From your new position, you can see just how tired she looks.

“‘M not sleepy, Mumma. Gonna stay up and wait for Daddy,” she informs you of her new plans. “When Daddy is home that’s when it’s time for bed.”

“Ally, remember what Daddy told you on the phone earlier? Santa won’t come unless you go to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she’s quickly starting to grow upset. “Not until Daddy tucks me in!”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue with your headstrong daughter when your son was so close to drifting off into his nightly milk coma. Turning your attention back to the movie that was quietly playing on the television, you decide to drop it for now and try again later.

December 24th, 9:05 PM

Not more than an hour later, Olly is upstairs in his crib fast asleep whilst Ally is still laying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, fighting sleep. She was determined to stay up until her father walked through the front door, and you knew getting her to agree to go to bed was going to be a battle and a half.

“You’re not ready to go to bed yet, Ally?” Her eyes fly open once she hears you addressing her.

“Not yet, Mumma. ‘M not sleepy yet.” Her words are a little slurred due to the exhausted state she was in. You hum in response.

“Could’ve sworn your eyes just shut for a minute there,” you pause for a second to see if she’ll look your way. “Must’ve just been my old lady eyes playin’ tricks on me, y’think?”

“I wasn’t sleeping!” She immediately defends herself, frown lines indenting her forehead. “Can we drink more hot chocolate?”

You knew if you wanted your daughter to fall asleep within the hour, another sugar rush wasn’t the best idea. You instead offer her a hot cup of sleepytime tea and she excitedly agrees once you tell her it’s her father’s favorite type of tea to drink at bedtime. You place her down on the kitchen counter while you fill the kettle and wait for it to whistle.

“What are you looking forward to the most from Santa, bug?”

Her eyes light up at your question. “Well, I really want a new bike! ‘Member Mumma? How I asked him for a pink bike? And I also want a cool swing set! Since we haven’t been able to go to the park in so long,” her smile falters and she looks down at her dangling feet. “I want Daddy to come home the mostest, though.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to break in two upon hearing your daughter admit that Harry being home would be the greatest gift of all. “So do I, lovebug. He’ll be here in the mornin’ to watch you and your brother open all the gifts Santa got you though, don’t you worry.”

For everyone’s sake, you hoped that was true.

December 24th, 11:50 PM

Sleep wasn’t coming easy.

You finally got your daughter to bed at around ten o’clock and waited thirty minutes before laying out your children’s gifts. It took much longer than it usually did considering you had to do it all on your own. Harry was usually the one to quickly assemble the larger toys while you laid everything out around the living room.

Despite it taking longer than desired, you were proud that you got it all done without waking your children up. Consequently, that meant you were now left all alone with your thoughts considering you had no more tasks to occupy yourself with.

You kept contemplating calling Harry, but you weren’t sure if he was busy on set or not. Surely he was immersing himself in work to distract himself from the fact he would not be spending Christmas with his family.

Deciding you may need a cup of the sleepytime tea you offered Allison earlier, you quietly get out of bed and open your door, sock-clad feet padding softly against the wooden floors. It’s unnervingly silent in your home–– the tea kettle coming to a boil being the only source of noise. You keep unlocking and re-locking your phone, finally deciding to call your husband to see how he’s spending his day. It goes to automatic voicemail.

You assume the reason for this must be that he’s busy filming on set and set your phone down with a sigh, standing on your tiptoes to retrieve a mug from the cabinet. You mutter a slew of curse words under your breath intended for Harry who always puts the mugs up far too high even though you tell him not to.

Right as you begin pouring the now boiling water into your teacup, the faint jingling of your front door causes you to startle so badly that you nearly drop the kettle on the ground. You try to think back to everything Harry ever told you to do in the event of an intruder but your mind goes blank from fright. Deciding to use the scalding water as your weapon, you slowly creep towards the door, your only plan being to fling the water on whoever it was as soon as they got the door open. As soon as you hear the lock click, you flick the lid open that covers the spout and draw your arm back.

“Shit––”

“Harry?”

Your husband jumps slightly, his eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to adjust to the dark living room. You reach beside him and quickly turn on the light, shakily letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He looks exhausted, his hair is an absolute mess, and his eyes are red from sleep deprivation–– but he’s home. You set the tea kettle down on the coffee table and fling yourself into his arms, breathing in the scent of the man you haven’t seen in a month. He drops his bags at his feet so he can properly embrace you, pulling you into him.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays like that for a moment saying nothing, just breathing you in. “Missed ya so fuckin’ much.

“How? I thought…” you trail off. “You said that they said…”

Harry laughs quietly. “Remember what I told ya? I said to ‘em, ‘Don’t give a fuck about your travel restrictions! M’wife wants me home.’” You laugh at him, knowing he was far too kind to talk to anyone that way.

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically. You pull him in for another hug, placing wet kisses along his jawline. “I’m so happy you’re home. The kids are gonna be over the moon, especially Allison.” Harry hums, surveying the room.

“Looks like you did a good job in here, Mrs. Claus. See ya even assembled some toys all by yourself,” he quirks an eyebrow. “Were you jus’ pretendin’ not to know how to do it all these years so I’d be stuck with all the hard labor?”

“Maybe.”

He pulls you back into him, tickling your sides. “My sneaky girl,” he bends down so his lips are level with your neck and sucks gently, causing you to let out a quiet moan. You see his eyes land on the tea kettle that was sitting forgotten on the coffee table. “Making a cuppa? Can I have one? ‘M freezin’.”

“I can think of something else we can do to get you warmed up,” you reach for his hands, interlocking his fingers with yours. “If you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“Hmm…” Harry releases one of his hands from your grip and taps at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Not too sure I can say I know what you’re sayin’. Maybe you should just tell me?”

You frown. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Y’know I’d give you the entire world if you asked me for it. All you gotta do is tell me what you want from me and it’s yours–– ‘m sure you’ve known that since the first day we met, though.” Harry takes a step back, crossing his arms across his chest. Even in his thick winter coat, you can see the way his biceps flex, and it makes you even more feral for him.

“Fine,” you say quietly, feeling yourself start to grow shy under his intense gaze. “I’m kinda... in the mood.” You say it so softly that it would most likely be inaudible to Harry if he wasn’t standing mere inches away from you. Harry throws his head back in laughter and you quickly shush him, not wanting any of your children to wake up.

“In the mood? C’mon, pet,” he uncrosses his arms and reaches for one of your hands. “Tha’s not tellin’ me what you want from me. Tell me exactly what you want, lovie.”

“You know what I want, H,” you tell him with a hint of annoyance in your voice. “It’s been a month. Yanno I want you to fuck me, why are you makin’ me say it?”

Harry gives you a shit-eating grin. “You jus’ said it. I didn’t make you say anything.”

You roll your eyes at his immaturity, already in the process of lifting your nightshirt (one of his old t-shirts that’s become just a little too tight on him) over your head. “Are we gonna get to it or not? Because if not, I’ll just go back to makin’ myself some tea and call it a night––”

Harry takes half a step towards you and reaches up to cup your face, colliding his lips with yours. His lips are a little chapped and taste of his favorite rose lip balm. You feel your body relaxing into the kiss, knees going weak as he walks you back onto the couch.

“You’ve been eatin’ up all the sugar cookies, haven’t you? Can taste it on ya. Thought those were for Santa,” he’s pulled away from you to examine your face. “A bit naughty of you, wouldn’t ya say?”

“Please stop referring to yourself as Santa when we’re about to have sex, Harry.”

“You’re not bein’ very kind to the person that’s about to go down on you, are you?” He sucks harshly on the valley between your breasts, wanting to be sure a deep-colored bruise will appear on your skin later. “That’s okay. It is Christmas, after all. ‘M in a giving mood.”

“Stop talking and get to it then.”

Harry slides off the couch and onto his knees in between your legs, gently kissing your thighs. “Cute pair of undies–– s’like you knew I was comin’ home tonight.” Before you can respond Harry’s fingers are tugging at the waistband of your underwear, eager to get them off of you. He presses light kisses to your core, mumbling about how much he missed the smell of you and how sweet you tasted.

One hand is resting across your stomach while the other one is in between your folds, spreading you open. You try squeezing your thighs around his head, overwhelmed by the feeling of your husband’s lips around your clit after being away from him for so long, but he removes his hand from your stomach and pushes your thighs back apart.

“Feels so good,” you’re breathless, tangling your fingers in Harry’s hair as his hollowed cheeks begin to suck more roughly on your clit. “Missed you so much. Missed this–– us.”

Harry pauses momentarily to look up at you. “I know, angel. God, do I know.” He attaches his lips back on you, swirling his tongue around your clit as you choke back your moans. The hand that is holding you open moves down to toy at your slit as he wordlessly checks to see if you’re okay with his fingers being in you.

“Please,” you say softly, encouraging his next move. He spits on his index and pointer finger before slowly sliding both of them in you, immediately curling them up. “Oh, Harry. Fuckin’ love when you do tha’...”

“Know you do,” His response is curt, simple. He’s focused on the task at hand–– getting you off. He uses the hand that’s lying across your stomach to rub tight circles on your clit, sensing you’re nearing your orgasm from the way you’re starting to clench around him. “Such a good girl fo’ me, darlin’. Gonna make a mess on my fingers in a second, aren’t you?”

You nod as you try to control your breathing and the loudness of your moans. The last thing you wanted was for your daughter to come down to inspect the source of the noise. “Fuck, Harry.”

“Come on, darlin’,” he gently pinches your clit, causing your body to jolt at the sensation. “Gimme a good one. A lil’ welcome back gift for me, hmm?”

Your hips are bucking up to the rhythm of his fingers slipping in and out of you as your orgasm quickly approaches. “Har, I’m close…” it comes out sounding more like a warning than a statement. He moves the two fingers he has inside of you in a back and forth motion, coaxing your first orgasm out of you.

“Tha’s my girl,” he whispers, not stopping his movements even as your back arches as your first orgasm rolls over you like a giant wave. “Givin’ me a good one jus’ like I knew you would. Jus’ like you always do. M’ sweet girl.” As you’re starting to still, Harry pulls his fingers out of you and holds them up to your mouth, instructing you to suck them clean.

You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can properly lean in to steal a kiss from him and notice a rather sizable tent has formed in his pants. Harry gives you a sheepish grin as he palms himself, hissing from the feel of his palm against his cock.

“Want me to do somethin’ about that?” You scoot over on the couch and pat the spot next to you, signaling for your husband to sit beside you. He lifts himself from his seated position, stretching his legs out a bit before plopping down beside you.

“Are you offerin’ me a blowie?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Can we skip that an’ you can jus’ ride me instead? Think I’d quite like that.”

“Oh you would, would ya?”

Harry nods and unzips his pants, taking himself out. He licks his hand and gives himself a few pumps. “Still on birth control, I’m assuming?”

You roll your eyes as you move to straddle him. “Only been gone for a month, Harry. Of course ‘m still on it, you goof.”

“Can never be too careful. I don’t think now’s a good time for another lil’ one, do you? Think we should at least celebrate Oliver’s first birthday before we try for another one.” His hands are on his hips as he lines you up over his cock, helping you slowly sink down. You missed the burn of him which was even more intense than it usually was considering it’s been a while since he’s taken you.

“I think you’re right,” you reply. You rest your head on his shoulder while you adjust to the size of him, needing to take a moment to yourself before attempting to move. After a short adjustment period you begin rolling your hips, grinding against him in a way that was also bringing pleasure to your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your last orgasm.

Harry’s eyes are fixated on the way your breasts bounce in front of him, the way your stomach slightly jiggles each time you crash back down onto him. His lips are caught in between his teeth; you’re hoping he doesn’t break any skin so you don’t have to hear him whine about how badly the bruise hurts him later.

“Ridin’ me like your life depends on it,” Harry mutters. “Fuckin’ love takin’ you like this, angel. So fuckin’ deep.”

You simply hum in agreement, brain far too foggy to form a coherent sentence. Harry notices your movements starting to become smaller, lazier, so he puts his hands on your hips and decides to take over. He’s thrusting up into you like you’ll up and run away from him if he doesn’t give it his all. He cups your face with one hand and gently guides you towards him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

“Fuck, H,” your eyes are squeezed shut and your wrap your arms around his neck, feeling your second orgasm quickly approaching. “Rub my clit please, almost there.”

Harry’s fingers immediately come down to rub at your slick nub, not faltering his relentless pace in the slightest. “Clench around me again, lovie,” his voice is higher than usual, whiny, and you know your husband is just as close as you are. “Love when you do tha’, jus’ need you to do it one more time.”

You do as he wishes once more, knowing once he cums you’ll be directly behind him. Harry lets out a string of expletives as he releases inside of you, pulling you tightly against his chest as he rides out his orgasm. You continue riding him, not slowly down as you chase your own release next.

“Harry,” you’re in a trance-like state, chanting his name over and over as you bring yourself over the edge. “Harry, fuck!”

“That’s my good girl,” he says quietly, rubbing your back as you rest your head on his shoulder while you catch your breath. You feel him beginning to soften inside of you so you lift yourself off and lay back on the couch, legs still shaking. It’s quiet for a couple of minutes as the two of you reveal in the afterglow of your orgasms, Harry gently running his fingers along your leg.

“Round two in the shower?”

December 25th, 6:42 AM

“Mumma! Santa came and he left lots of toys–– Daddy?”

Harry lets out a dramatic “oof!” as Ally jumps onto him, pulling the covers back. Her eyes are wide and she giggles are Harry pulls her into one of his infamous bear hugs, placing kisses all over his face.

“Mornin’, love bug! What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“It’s Christmas, Daddy! Santa came!” she sits back on her feet, a confused look on her face. “Did Santa bring you on his sleigh last night after me ‘n Olly went to bed?”

“Y’know what? He told me to keep it a secret, but he did,” Allison gasps in response to his news as she processes it, placing a little hand over her mouth. Harry sits up and gets out of bed, scooping her up in the process. “How ‘bout we go make Mum a cuppa before we see what Santa got for you and Olly? Tha’ sound good? Let’s let them sleep for a while longer, hmm?”

As you hear them exit the room you take a second to reflect on how lucky you are to spend another Christmas with you beautiful family before drifting back off into a deep, albeit short, sleep.

#harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #its not christmas til you come home #thanks for reading!

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

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The Sacrifice: Part 1 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

synopsis: every year, an unwed maiden is sacrificed to the Dragon God, and this year, you've been picked.

wc: 1.5k

tw: none (y'all know how I love to do backstory before I get into anything heavy)

A/N: thank you to @sunfloweroranges for this AMAZING idea that just rocked my world. I've been thinking about this for days now, and I've finally begun to write it. Thank you, love bug. This story wouldn't be written without you. Seriously.

masterlist

Inhale.

Exhale.

The reminder to breathe is the only thing you can muster as you are being misted with ylang-ylang and sandalwood, the scents akin to that of a virgin on her wedding day. It’s only when the elders rub ashes on the backs of your hands that you are reminded of your true purpose at the temple.

“Yew trees signify death and resurrection,” your mother used to tell you when you watched this ceremony from your perch on your father’s shoulders. It seemed so long ago when you were innocent; the virtue like the mast of a sinking ship you now desperately cling to. But now, your nails are being removed from this sinking ship and are painted over with crushed berries, staining the nail beds reddish-purple.

“Turn around,” a woman croaks, and you turn to face yourself in the mirror offered by another old woman. You see remnants of who you used to be: the long hair kept from the years spent living as an orphan, the full lips decorated with red lipstick instead of bruises, and the slight upward tilt of your chin. You were not always this poor and downtrodden; it seems that the only thing the creditors and bill-makers couldn’t strip from you was the way you could see right through people.

Even yourself.

“Follow me,” another woman mutters, and you depart from the eyes of the waiting citizens of Lampai, if only for a brief moment. The elderly female - who shuffles down a corridor and into a private, empty room - seems sweet enough, but perhaps that was because she knew your fate and wanted to take pity on you in your last moments here on this earth. When she turns around to you, she reveals a large pendant necklace that she has to stand on her tiptoes to drape over your neck. It’s made of turquoise and gold - something you would have killed for before today - and she tucks it into your dress, hiding it from sight. “Turquoise stones for your protection, and gold to bring the dragon pleasure.” In all of your years watching this terrible raffle, you’d never seen a necklace so divine, so beautiful.

“Thank you,” you murmur. But also, you’d never seen a criminal such as yourself standing on the dais before mounting the horse that would take you up the mountain, never to return again. This was an unusual year, but you would take all of the help you could get.

You ponder your odds of survival as the woman leads you back to the dais, where you stand before your peers, hoping someone would speak up and plead for mercy on your behalf. You know if your mother and father were still alive, you wouldn’t be in this spot at all. They had bought you decades worth of protection from being picked for such a medieval practice, but once they died and the General Commissioner found out that you were homeless, broke, and a criminal… Well, here you stood as punishment for stealing food from a market, your first and only crime.

“Her maidenhood has been confirmed, and she is ready to ascend the mountain,” the elder announces with hands raised to the sky. The people below you cheer with excitement at the half-truth, prepared to commence their yearly commitment to the Dragon God.

One maiden sent up the mountain per year as a sacrifice.

One maiden meant one unmarried, untouched woman. Despite your short criminal stint, you fit that bill quite well. And what was easier than the General Commissioner sending you up the mountain to be eaten by a dragon? Putting you in jail? No, he’d have to feed you there. That was just too much humanity to spare.

As you mount the horse that will take you to your destination, you look over into General Commissioner Gakuganji’s eyes and raise your brows, daring him to speak to you. But he doesn’t and waves his hand so the temple women would get on with the ceremony. It’s obvious he wants to go home and eat his fill of food before the evening is over.

The horse is led up the path lined by magnolia trees by one of the male temple attendants, his eyes glued to the road ahead and not daring to look up at you: the sacrifice. You want to hop off of the horse and make a run for the surrounding brush, but you know that the mountain is treacherous without a means to get up or down. You’d be stuck forever, wandering around with no food or water until you finally collapsed and died somewhere.

Well, that’s if you’re not eaten by the Dragon God first.

At the end of the magnolia path, the male attendant stops, eyeing you over his shoulder.

“I can go no further,” he states, and you take the reins in your hands instead, not sparing him another glance. “Ride straight up the path.” With a grunt, you urge the horse onward by digging your heels into its flanks and note that the path ahead seems more desolate than the one behind you. There are no trees, no signs of life, nothing but rocks and dust.

And that’s when the fear finally sets in.

The background to your ascent is the sound of cheers from the other people below you - the safe people who wouldn’t have to endure the shredding of limbs by dragon’s teeth. If an outsider were watching the spectacle, they might assume that you were ascending the mountain to commiserate with the gods, then return a hero.

But - again - there is no return down the mountain in sight. Not for you.

_____________________________________________________________

Silence.

The echoing of the cheers died off an hour - maybe two? - ago. All you can hear is the soft clomps of the horse’s hooves in the dirt and your own breathing. There was nothing on this mountain in the mid-fall. Not even a sign of leaves or something that would indicate any form of existence had been around before the mountain was stripped of its features and made into the vessel for sacrifices to be delivered unto the Dragon God.

You’re starting to believe this god isn’t real around the third hour of the trip. The peak - a sharp apex - is nearing ever so slightly, looming above like a sharp dagger waiting to fall. The evening is just now coming to a close, but you feel every single moment drag out forever as the horse passes more desolation and untouched land. But when a long shadow ghosts over the dimming sunlight, you jerk up in the saddle and hold the reins tightly.

“Just a hallucination,” you mutter, looking about the sky for some sign of the long shadow’s source. When you look down at the horse, another long shadow darts across the sky, and a gust of wind blows harshly in your face. With a jerk, the horse shakes its head, but another gust of wind from behind you sends the horse into a panicked state, and he takes off at a gallop without warning. Your screams must certainly be heard down the mountain, but you’re holding onto the beast for dear life and nothing else matters anymore except the concept of survival.

At some point, you lose your grip on the reins and you’re tossed backward, landing in the dirt with a pained moan. Your back and neck are lit up in agony, but as you rise up from the ground, you notice the horse is gone.

Your horse is gone.

“No!” As panic sets in, you try to jump to your feet to see if you could possibly catch up to it, but as you amble up the path, you realize you’re completely screwed. Without the horse, you had no food, no water… nothing.

But when a long shadow paints itself across the ground in front of you, you do only what you know how to do.

Run.

Going back down the mountain seemed foolish, but you had no other option to escape whatever that shadow foretold of. If you could just get to the magnolia trees you could--

A strong wind knocks you flat onto your back and right underneath the shadow, and you cry out, seeing two pairs of golden talons attached to a beige underbelly descend upon you and snatch you up in their sharp grip. You’re taken up into the sky, and for a moment, you dare to look down at the receding ground. But your nerves throw you back into overdrive and you attempt to pry the talons from your arms but to no avail. Tears stream from your closed eyes as you contemplate your fate.

From here, the dragon’s nest. Then… death. This was the end. Images of your family flash before your eyes and you silently pray that whichever gods still exist would grant you the mercy to join your mother and father.

You open your eyes as the taloned creature sets you on your back in a field of grass, then lifts off into the sky once more. After you struggle to find your feet again - they’d gone numb during the short flight to this knoll - you look upward to see if you can locate anything familiar, any sign of another dragon, or something that could tell you where you are. But the flood of nerves and adrenaline comes crashing down and you careen backward, all five senses shutting off as soon as you hit the grass again.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @jotazinha @leanne-tamashi @brownskinnedgirll

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen getou #geto suguru #jjk geto #getou x reader #getou suguru #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen

150 notes · View notes

tae-cup · 3 years

Text

Old Money and Brooklyn Babies

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Summary: “Those summer nights seem long ago. And so is the girl you used to call The queen of New York City. But if you send for me, you know I'll come. And if you call for me, you know I'll run” - Lana Del Rey (Old Money)

Genre: Modern/Realistic Au, Angst, like Fluff if you squint, rich people au??

Warnings: Yandere-ish themes, LANGUAGE, drinking, sexual tension (but no smut!), unhealthy relationships, heavy topics, maybe at the end if you think about it maybe depression?, Pathological liar (s?) are involved, your brain has been warned #trust no one.

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 7.3k Words

A/N: Ahhh this was such a challenge for me to write but I hope you guys enjoy it! PS I’m sorry. And I’m really nervous to post this because I don’t know how it will turn out askldfhsalkdfh

Other: Masterlist

Loving him was intense, a whirlwind of emotions that could only be compared to a hurricane, a tornado. There was a time when loving him was explosive, a train on its way to be wrecked. The feeling hadn’t disappeared.

You knew it when you saw him standing on the staircase, a new love around his arm. You felt the room buzz when he saw you. Now, standing in this bar of sweat and alcohol where you could barely pay for your next drink, you wondered how things went so wrong.

Just a few weeks ago, you were the queen of New York City, the heiress everyone was talking about, and now you were a nothing, just another nobody in a sea of other nobodies.

Did he see it in your eyes? Did he see the desperation? The same look you had given him a few months ago, the kind of look that he had described as beautiful and exhilarating. Now he turned away in disgust. You tightened your grasp on your glass.

It was your fault.

You had ruined it all. Like you always did.

Six Months Ago

1 A.M. wake up.

Obsess over what you were going to do for the day and plan it meticulously in your mind.

3 A.M.

Get out of bed.

make yourself a cup of coffee and stare in the mirror for a while.

You stood tall, you knew you were a beautiful woman. After all, everyone had been telling you this since you were little. You could easily pass for royalty, that’s what you always thought and you wore it well.

You jutted your chin out, running a hand along your jawline. Then you made sure to put every hair in place, perfectly positioned. The mirror had a small crack in the corner, you made a mental note to buy a new one.

You put on your dark shades sunglasses so that you could barely even see inside. Nonetheless, you stumbled around your apartment like a model, refusing to look unfashionable even in the cold abyss of your living room. Who knew if someone was peering through the windows? That’s why you kept it as dark as possible.

You tripped over the couch. Since when was that there? You asked yourself angrily, as if you hadn’t been living here for the past year, a pretty bubble world built up carefully over a year of work and dedication.

Reality couldn’t catch you here. You stumbled around blindly for a while and then found the door handle.

5 A.M.

With a decisive click, your day had begun.

Astteria Jewelry, a company your father had invested in dearly when he visited the states. You hadn’t been there, but you’d heard a lot about the visit from the newspapers.

“Hello?” You cleared your throat, tapping on the top of the glass counter until someone came over, looking a bit annoyed. The woman’s face was twisted uncomfortably before she plastered a kind smile on her face.

“How may I help you?”

“Yes, yes, I need to try those on.” You pointed to the chunkiest rings in the case. They were encrusted with large and small diamonds, all glittering beautifully.

The woman shot you a skeptical look. You just peered down at her through your dark shaded glasses. She was really straining for that pleasant smile now.

“Of course.” She said tightly and reached under, unlocking the case, and bringing the rings out.

“Ah, I quite like this one.” You gasped happily. The rock on your finger was hard to even hold up, but you liked it well enough. “I’ll take it, as you probably know, my father will be quite happy with this gift.”

“That will be $247,000.” The woman pursed her lips as she removed the ring and placed it back in a box.

“Perfect.” You declared.

“I need your card.”

“Nonsense! Do you even know who I am?”

The woman shook her head, her irritation visibly growing.

“That’s quite alright. You know, my father is a great friend and investor in this company. He has often bought for my mother from this very fine store. I think he even gave us a discount at some point?” You said casually. “My father is the chairman of Sinopec, I think you know it?”

The woman stilled then she looked suspiciously at the door and back at you. “I’ll give Mr. Betta a call.”

“You better.” You snapped back, your patience wearing thin. You were the daughter of Sinopec’s chairman. Everyone knew you, obviously.

The dial tone was especially loud in the quiet store. A few rings and he picked up.

“Yes?” You heard the muffled voice.

“Sir, there’s someone here claiming you gave her family a discount?”

“Who?”

“From Sinopec.” The woman turned away, whispering furiously. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea. Okay okay, I will.”

“Well?” You turned to her, looking every part the agitated socialite,

“Mr. Betta seems to be under the impression...that you should be allowed this ring and we’ll charge your father.”

“Of course.” You said quickly, taking the box out of her hands and striding out of the store.

Your heart was racing. You felt a weight on your chest and it wasn’t the ring.

Heather was rich. You knew her to be Old Money, everyone did. You always expertly placed yourself next to her in class. She didn’t seem to mind. She was beautiful, maybe even more beautiful than you, but you would never allow that thought to come to fruition.

Heather held herself like a commoner, to put it lightly. She got her morning starbucks, waited in line, ordered and waited patiently, got on a bus, commuted to school and got to class early. You realized a big part of being a ‘normal’ person was waiting around.

“Heather, I was also at that party the other night.” You said to her as she scrolled through her photo album.

“Oh? Really?” She chewed on gum, the sound smacking across her lips. You felt an itch of irritation, but pushed it away.

“Yeah, really.” You drawled.

You carefully placed your ringed finger close to her line of sight. She glanced down for a second then back at her phone, then back at the ring. She put down her phone.

“Where did you get that ring?” She inquired, suddenly very interested in you. She picked up your hand and surveyed the ring from several angles.

“Astteria.” You said nonchalantly. “My father is a good friend of Simon Betta.”

“Who’s your father?” She glanced upwards with a confused look.

“Zhao Dong.” You said easily.

“The chairman of Sinopec?” Heather looked up, confused. “I’m surprised I didn’t recognize you! You’ve changed since I last saw you.”

You smiled and nodded at her words.

“I know. I spent some time away.” You looked nonchalantly at your nails.

“Well you look great, Y/N.” She continued with a small smile.

“Thank you, I know.” You tossed your hair. “Tell me, Heather, are we close? Would you consider me a close friend?”

“I…” She stuttered awkwardly. “N-not close close, but I know your father and...your mother?” She interlaced her fingers and looked away, embarrassed. “Truth be told, I haven’t been keeping up with Sinopec as of late.”

“That’s perfectly alright.” You assured her. “Now, I’ve been looking for a charity to donate to. My dad has been bugging me about the yearly donations.” You said the words so easily, like water out of a waterfall.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, I was wondering if you know any because...well, I know you’re into those charities and non-profits.”

The sound of pages being turned filled the room and you turned back to your work. You didn’t even bother reading the page or taking notes, you had another mission at hand. Heather turned back to her work and after a while, she cleared her throat slightly.

“There’s actually...a gala for an organization that helps fight for LGBTQ+ rights. Would you like to come? I could get you an invite if you just send me your address.” She lowered her voice.

You glanced around. Everyone was focused on their work so you nodded.

“I’m really into helping out when I can, you know? Here I’ll give you my number-” you stopped, thinking it over. “Actually, give me your number.” You prompted.

“Oh? Alright?” She recited her number and you typed it into your phone. You felt her heated stare on the old phone in your hand.

“It’s a friend of mine’s old phone.” You said. “My father has yet to send me the latest one.”

“I see.” Heather narrowed her eyes and went back to taking notes.

You sent her a quick hello and smirked, going back to write down notes. Columbia College had been quite pleased to hear about all the non profit work and extracurriculars, not to mention your straight As in school. It was what you deserved.

“Y/N!” Heather waved you over and you descended the stairs with a smile.

There stood Heather in the middle of this grand ballroom. You tried not to look impressed.

“Heather.” You greeted her with a smile.

She pulled you into a quick hug and then grabbed two champagne glasses. Gold rimmed and bubbling with clear yellow liquid, she handed you a glass. The room was decorated lavishly with red drapes covering dark alcoves and chaise lounges positioned in the corners. These lounges were occupied by men and women all dressed to the nines. This type of luxury was what you deserved.

“You look gorgeous!” She complimented as she took in your appearance.

You had borrowed a dress from your much richer friend, though you personally believed that you pulled off the look better than her. You were the most beautiful after all.

“Ah, thank you. You look exquisite as well.” You brushed a stray hair from your face.

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N.”

You turned to the voice and were met with a familiar face. You were shocked to even see him at a place like this. He hadn’t struck you as this kind of person.

You had first met Park Jimin in a club. The lights were dim and you could barely make out his face, but you knew he was beautiful, just like you. The club was a world of beautiful people, all pressed against each other and sweating.

“How old are you?” He asked, looking you up and down as you sat at the bar. You smiled slyly, swirling your drink to the pounding music.

“Probably too young for you.” You shouted over the music.

His hands went to his hair. “Listen! My hair looks gray but I can assure you I am a 25 year old man in good standing!”

You laughed. He seemed nice, genuine. It was a breath of fresh air. His entire aura screamed that he was important, yet his personality quite opposed this notion. You looked him up and down.

He was a man of stature, standing tall and proud amongst the crowd, his hair was a silver gray, his eyes of a similar shade. Jimin was either high society or had no idea how to have fun. You were a perfect match.

“I believe you.” You replied happily, setting down your drink. “Want to get some fresh air?”

He smoothed down his coat and you wondered why he was dressed so formally to go to a nightclub.

“I’d like that very much.”

“Jimin.” You greeted him happily. He gently took your hand in his and kissed the back.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He said cordially, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“And you.” You bowed your head gracefully.

The music of the gala swelled and Heather cleared her throat. Her eyebrows were raised as high as the bronze arches that hung above you.

“You two...know each other?” She asked, eyeing Jimin.

Jimin nodded. “Yes, we met, achem, a little while ago.” You were grateful he didn’t mention the club.

“Well, Jimin is actually performing tonight, aren’t you?” Heather turned to him expectantly.

“Oh? Performing?”

The man seemed embarrassed by the sudden attention on him. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah, yeah, well, I’m just singing-”

“Jimin is an excellent singer.” Heather nodded and you followed suit.

“I’m not that great. My mom just had enough money to bribe the manager.” He joked and you chuckled along.

“Yeah, I get that.” You agreed. “But I’m sure you’re an amazing singer, Jimin.” You looked him up and down, a smile growing.

“He is!” The other girl chimed in before Jimin could protest. The clock chimed 8:00 P.M. and you glanced upwards.

“I think that’s my cue to go.” Jimin announced, waving off a waiter who offered him a glass.

“Alright! Best of luck, Jimin.” You bowed your head politely and he did the same.

Heather watched the interaction intently. Once he was gone, she started laughing which caused you to look over at her sharply.

“You guys really just eye fucked each other for a whole five minutes. I didn’t think it was possible after seeing Anna’s reaction to him. At least it was mutual this time.”

“Anna?”

“Yeah, the daughter of the guy who made Adobe or whatever.”

“Oh, of course, I remember her.” You said easily, grabbing another glass of champagne.

You were going to need a lot of alcohol to make it through this night, but these luxuries were what you had always wanted.

“I would be careful, though, Y/N.” She glanced around. “He doesn’t have the best track record with women, though he attracts them like bees to flowers.”

“Oh I see.” You followed her eyes. “But from the way you look at him, I can assume you’ve been one of those women?”

She narrowed her eyes and then chuckled, though the sound was a bit strained.

“Me And Jimin? No, no. I can admit he is handsome, but we would never make a good pair.” Heather was quiet for a moment and then she crossed her arms, her gaze growing distant. “He’s too caught up in himself. You remind me of him.”

“I beg your pardon?

“Forget I said anything.”

The music began to swell and you looked up from your conversation as the curtain on the stage began to lift. The din of the room died down. A man with a rainbow pin and black tuxedo stood center stage. He held himself with confidence.

“Thank you, everyone, for attending this charity event for the Audre Lorde Project. Today, we are so grateful to be able to present Mr. Park Jimin as our entertainment for the night. If you donate, he will sing a song of your choosing!” The MC leaned in. “Just don’t be inappropriate, folks.” He winked.

“Now presenting….Park Jimin!”

You watched as the familiar man walked on stage. He looked quite dashing, sporting a rainbow tuxedo and white shoes. You were sure they must have cost a fortune. His rings alone must have cost at least $21,000. Then his shoes, oh, his shoes. They were perfectly clean, so white they could reflect the dim lighting.

People were quick to go up and pay for a song. The songs started at $1,000 and you pursed your lips, checking your wallet. Did you have enough? Yes, of course you have enough, you’re the daughter of Sinopec.

You set your mind on deciding a song. Heather began chatting to you about school, but you were hardly paying attention. You started drifting towards the box that held the donations. Heather moved along with you, unknowing to your next move. You straightened, holding up a hand, which quickly silenced Heather, and zeroed in on the box.

Withdrawing your money, you wrote a quick check for $1,000. Then you haphazardly tossed it into the box. Then you wrote your song on the sign up sheet and went back to the center of the room. You waited, tapping your foot impatiently. You wanted everything now, but you could try to be patient for once.

Heather continued talking about...whatever she was talking about. Halfway through her rambling, a familiar tune began to play. Your eyes shot up from where they were resting on your drink to the stage. You could feel Jimin’s heated stare.

“I think I'm too cool to know ya. You say I'm like the ice, I freeze. I'm churnin' out novels like Beat poetry on Amphetamines.” He sang and his voice was a perfect tune.

You felt your toes curl pleasantly as his sweet voice tingled your eardrums. Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey. You eyed him up and down, taking note of a particularly expensive looking Rolex watch.

As you made eye contact with him through the crowd, your heart thumped an untimely beat. Mine.

Jimin left hand in hand with you. What a sight to see. A couple that no one had expected, one out of the blue. You giggled, shifting over in the back of the cab to Jimin’s place.

His hand slowly inched its way over to your thigh and gave it a light squeeze. Your eyes stayed trained on his face. The dark city streets casted eerie shadows over your figures, but you felt calm nonetheless.

Your hand reached out and touched his cheek. A wordless communication. May I? To be answered with you may. And he leaned in, diving into your arms, melding his lips against yours like you were meant to be. You both gasped for air, but it was a battle for dominance and neither of you were about to back down.

You bit playfully at his lips, devouring his strawberry lip balm like it was your last meal. He pushed against you so your back thumped against the door. His hands found your hips and he pressed into you tightly.

Your hands gripped his hair and you refused to part from his lips, the cold metal of his Rolex dug into the fabric of your dress. You wanted that watch.

The taxi slowly pulled up to the apartment complex and you both hurried out. Jimin haphazardly overpaid the driver and you both took a break to get your bearings before walking into his high end apartment building.

“Hey, let’s try to look like we didn’t just make out like animals, okay?” Jimin patted your arm.

So you went about smoothing down your hair, pulling down your skirt a little lower, and patting your cheeks gently to try and, in vain, dispel the light flush.

You both stumbled your way inside, laughing drunkenly. He helped stand you upright, a strong arm wrapped around your waist. There was a jingle of something falling to the ground, but you paid it no mind. He helped you all the way up to his apartment where you leaned against the wall while he searched for his keys.

“Shit!” He cursed, sinking down beside you, his back thumping against the wall. “I lost my keys.” He grumbled.

“Ah, that’s fine.” You laughed, “Just my luck.”

“You seem pretty lucky, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m lucky, I guess, but I want a lot more than luck, you know?”

“And what do you want?”

“You.” You answered quickly.

And that was the first time a lie had registered in your addled brain. Because that wasn’t true, no, not at all. Jimin was wonderful, handsome, smart, but you wanted something more material than these flimsy emotions.

You wanted money. As you watched his expression melt into a lustful haze, you flexed your fingers and clenched them over and over. You could play his game of emotions, you could do it. You thought as he went in for another kiss.

It was a cold morning. Jimin had black out curtains. You could hide from the world very nicely here. You were awake at 1 A.M.

After a long night of searching and making out, the searching part of which you found far more enjoyable, you found his keys. He had dropped them in the lobby on the way in and the desk attendant had grabbed them. You went through your routine, replacing yourself with a pillow in his arms.

“Huh. I always thought that only worked in movies?” You tilted your head and went back to your routine. After a while of getting ready, you sat beside the bed, watching him.

He breathed steadily. You glanced around, finally deciding to explore. You stood, picking up discarded clothes and observing his apartment. It was big, bigger than yours.

There were expensive things everywhere. You could guess he was old money. A glint of gold in the morning light caught your eye. You walked over, carefully not to disturb the floorboards. On his bedside table was the Rolex watch.

“You can keep it.” His gruff voice said. “It’s not important to me, but you’ve been eyeing it all night.”

“Why would you give this to me?” You asked, lifting the watch to look at it in the slim sliver of light that cracked through the curtain. You wanted to applaud his awareness and observation skills.

“There’s something about the desperation in your eyes, Y/N. It’s exhilarating, beautiful, new. People are so...complacent, so okay with their situations nowadays, especially when you’re in positions like you and I. I’m giving it to you as a promise that this wasn’t just a one night thing. I’m serious about this.” Jimin rolled over in bed. “I like people like you, Y/N. I fall in love with people like you.” His words were soft, his expression was stone cold.

And you knew what game he was playing at with extravagant promises and carefully chosen words, you were playing the same game. So you simply let him win.

You could do that, for him, because as much as you were using him to help yourself gain a boost, your heart was beginning to lead you astray. And you could not let that happen. Still, that scent of cinnamon and the taste of strawberries would likely always remind you of him.

Perhaps it was obsession that took you back to his place over and over again. It wasn’t so much him, but the idea of him. Maybe it was the idea that he was rich, that he had money, that he was handsome, but all that aside, you were perfectly incompatible.

Jimin was old money, old money that was long gone. For as long as Jimin remembered, his father had worked very very hard to run his company into the ground. Whether it be with the drinking or the extravagant parties, his money was gone.

He had an unquenchable thirst for money. Some could call it an unhealthy obsession. So when he met you...oh boy. You exuded this confidence, the kind only old money could have. He wanted it.

Call him cruel, but he didn’t mind stepping on a few toes to get where he needed to be. He didn’t mind crushing some woman’s poor dreams. He really didn’t mind. You were another stepping stone. You were supposed to be just another tool for success.

In his alcohol induced state, probably drug induced state as well, he came to the conclusion that you two would make quite a pair indeed, a power couple. But he needed you to become more powerful. It would be a mutually beneficial relationship.

“I don’t know, Jimin, I can get pretty nervous at interviews.” You had told him in response, but there was a gleam of excitement in your eyes, he didn’t read too much into it.

“I think you’ll be fine.” He patted your back with a smile.

Looking back, he never should have gotten you that interview with the New York Times. It was a poor decision on his part. Maybe if things had gone better, if he still remained ignorant of his situation and drank himself into debt like his father, he would be able to continue living his fantasy world. However, this would not be the case. He was not someone who was afraid of getting his hands dirty. And oh how dirty they were to become.

“Thank you, Miss Y/N, for joining us.” The reporter settled down across from you.

“Ah, it’s a pleasure.” You smiled. The woman smiled back and prepared her notepad.

She was a hardworking woman. She wore flats and a nice outfit for this interview, but as you analyzed her posture and position, you knew she would most likely prefer something more comfortable. She slumped ever so slightly, her lipstick was well applied but her nail polish was cracking and half peeled.

“I’m Anna and I’ll be interviewing you.”

“Anna? As in Anna, Adobe Inc’s daughter?”

“Yes!” She nodded happily. “I’m glad you remember me! You know, I only met you once really and we were children so I’m not surprised to see you’ve grown into a beautiful woman. Let’s see here…”

The interview began.

“What was it like, growing up with Zhao Dong as a father?”

“Well, Anna, he was absent a lot.” You said without a second thought, thinking back to your childhood sadly. “But he tried his best. I think I get a lot of my outgoing nature from him. He’s really a role model for me.”

“And do you have the same goals and aspirations that he has for the company?”

You chuckled lightly at the question.

“Oh dear, oh no.” You said, like it was some preposterous question. “Honey, he is all about the money. I am nothing like that. I’m all about human connection.”

Anna seemed pleased by this. Her eyes lit up and she hurriedly went to write down notes.

“You seem like such a nice, down to Earth, person, Y/N, how do you get this mindset after being raised so...well, rich.”

“I’ve gotten used to a lot of luxury, yes, but this does not take away from the fact that my father was always strict on discipline. He put a huge emphasis on respecting others and respecting situations we cannot comprehend. It is a valuable lesson I take to heart.” You nodded seriously, your hands gently folded in your lap.

Anna was, once again, pleased by your answer. You seemed to be telling her the right things.

Soon enough, your face was on the cover of every newspaper. The rich heiress to Sinopec is here in New York City! Or Y/N Dong, the future of the wealthy and elite.

You could bathe in the attention all day. In fact, you bought about 15 copies of the story and spread them around your apartment. You meticulously cut out each and every sentence that called you beautiful, complimented you, or even mentioned you and pasted them to the blank walls of your home. Even bad press was still press. After you were done with your hard work, you collapsed on the sofa.

“Knock knock!”

You jolted upright. You looked around your apartment. The curtains were drawn over the windows, just like they always were. You looked around. Your apartment was a mess.

The floor was littered with pieces of paper, the fridge stood open and there were expertly placed scissors just lying on the ground waiting to be stepped on. You blinked wearily. It was a disorientation akin to being hungover but not quite.

“Knock knock?”

Your neck almost snapped with how hard you looked at the door. Shit. You immediately stood up, groaning in pain as you ripped your hand from the couch. You had somehow managed to glue your fingers to the fabric and it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

You started madly sweeping the paper, quite literally, under the rug. Then you threw open your windows and were reminded of why you kept them closed. They faced a brick wall. A lovely sight to see.

You frowned, but rubbed your eyes and carried on in your cleaning frenzy nonetheless. The knocks sounded once more and you finally answered.

“One sec-” You cleared your gruff voice. “One second!”

You tripped over the coffee table and you withheld a scream of frustration. Instead you threw your hands up in anger and let out a silent shout.

“Everything alright in there?”

“Yup! Just- give me- a moment-” You held your stubbed toe and every curse you knew flew through your head.

You then ran to the mirror and quickly brushed through your hair. Finally, you made it to the front door, looking as presentable as possible.

When you opened the door, two familiar people shoved their way in.

“Ah, this place is smaller than I expected.” Heather announced, setting down a gift bag, Jimin entered after her with a shy smile. His face conveyed Heather’s words.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s only temporary. I used to live down at Wall Street but then there was a pipe problem with my neighbor and you know...water damage is a real problem.” You clicked your tongue unhappily and they nodded sympathetically.

“That’s completely understandable.” Heather said, moving to get a closer look at your walls. “Interesting decorations.”

“I like words of affirmation to hang around my apartment. It helps build self confidence.”

“Looks like you already have enough of that from the article I read.” Jimin chuckled, fingers brushing over a sentence plastered on the wall.

“Oh, you read that?” Your cheeks heated up. “It was nothing, really.”

“You’re practically everywhere, Y/N.” Heather pointed out. “It’s like knowing a celebrity.”

“But I’m no celebrity.” You said humbly. “I’m just a normal person.”

“My normal person.”

Possession. It was a common theme in your growing relationship with Jimin. You quite liked it. Your heart would always thump. A smile grew on your face and you gave him a quick kiss, one he returned gladly.

“You guys are disgusting. Get a room.” Heather huffed. “Anyway,” She turned and grabbed a gift bag as you and Jimin parted. “I’ve got this gift for you. Call it a congratulations for being on your first ever cover. I was only 15 when I was on mine, but whatever.”

“You didn’t have to.” You exclaimed, but happily took the gift. You threw out the tissue paper like an animal. “Oh! Earrings! I love them!” You exclaimed, surveying the expensive earrings. You assumed they must be at least $30,000.

“Well, it’s just a little thing. Also, I forgot to mention it, my birthday party is next week and I’d love for you to come! I’ll send you the invites!” Heather interlaced your fingers with hers and you shot her a wry smile.

“Of course, we’ll be there.” Jimin answered for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Oh! I forgot to ask, has your father seen your article?” Heather inquired, it was a simple ask, one that had you twisting your hands nervously.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure he has.” You said softly. “But he’s very busy as you know, so he just hasn't gotten in touch yet!” You assured her and when she nodded, you breathed a sigh of relief.

You didn’t want to know much about Jimin besides his family, his money, and how he looked. You just wanted him to be yours.

Jealousy. Yeah, that was definitely the green monster, as green as a freshly mowed lawn at bucking-fucking-ham palace. This feeling in your stomach was definitely jealousy. You told yourself you couldn’t feel jealous of Heather.

Heather even explicitly said she’d never fall in love with Park Jimin, but that was a real trick, a trap, because everyone fell for Park Jimin. There was something about the way she held onto his arm that had you transfixed, how she casually brushed his side when reaching for something.

You were seeing green and red. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her fucking hand for one second, even when other people were trying to get your attention. The party was high caliber, celebrating the birthday of said woman. But you could care less that it was her birthday, that man was yours.

You were like a predator, stalking the perimeter before swooping in for the kill. You puffed out your chest and walked straight into their little conversation.

“Jimin, Heather.” You greeted them with a warm smile, but inside you were screaming. It was a primal urge.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you could make it!” Heather pulled you in for a hug and you both balanced your champagne in one hand while doing the awkward one armed move. “Jimin and I were just discussing the latest actions of the Audre Lorde Project.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” You smiled slyly, all teeth and no glimmer of joy in your eyes to be found. “I just wanted to personally deliver my gift to you.” You thrust out the package.

“Oh no no, you don’t have to! Besides, if you do, then suddenly everyone will want to come over and I just want to talk to you guys for now.” She lowered her voice and smirked.

You nodded, though your fingers clenched around the handles tightly. You trudged over to the gift table and haphazardly threw the bag among the other gifts.

It wasn’t anything special, just the ring you had gotten from Astteria. You had wanted to get rid of that old thing anyway. You glanced at the two, still talking. You gritted your teeth and stormed away to the bathroom.

You and Jimin did many things together. You learned his favorite color, his mother’s name and her favorite song, you learned about his life, his backstory. However, your favorite thing to do with Jimin was to make out.

Now, this might seem shallow, but making out with Jimin was like heaven on Earth. He knew how to move his lips, touch just the right spots, to get you melting.

He was the sun in a New York City heatwave and you were a popsicle melting below. It was truly a sight to behold, although Heather would disagree. As your hands would play a game of untying ties with his suit, your mind played a different game, a far more deadly one.

“I love you.” You reeled him in. He followed you like a moth to a light. “I love you a lot.” You declared and he simply fell away under your grasp.

You had always enjoyed the sight of people falling beneath you as you stripped away their exteriors to find what made them tick.

“You’re mine, Jimin, all mine.” You breathed heavily, gasping for breath as he moved to your neck.

He made quick work of the clean skin, littering it with purple marks, delicately crafted by his skilled lips. His teeth grazed your ear, making you suck in a breath. Your, his, rolex watch pressed into his warm skin.

“Tell me, Jimin, tell me you’re mine.” You said desperately and he groaned in delight.

“I love it when you talk to me like that.” He peppered kisses along your jawline. “I love that sound, begging for me like a dog.” He gripped your jaw, pulling you closer, but you didn’t mind. “I’m yours, baby, but only if you’re mine.”

“I’m all yours.” And he dove back to your lips like an animal.

“I’m madly in love with you, Y/N.” He murmured. “And you’re all mine.”

It was a perfect fairytale, but all fairytales need a villain.

I have no idea who this woman is, posing as my daughter. She is an imposter for sure, or delusional. The subtitles on the T.V. read as you flipped through the article that just landed outside your door.

You seethed, feeling your heart sink as one by one, the article undid your many lies. You almost wanted this destruction, because with it came release.

The release of pressure on your chest, from the weight of all these lies. They were carefully built, framing you in the perfect light, but you didn’t want everything to be undone.

“What’s going on?” He picked up the phone. Your hands were shaking. “Y/N? Are you alright?”

“I-I...don’t read the news, meet me outside my apartment door.” You said quickly, your voice quivering. You heard him roll out of bed.

“Okay. I’ll be right there.”

You sent the same sentiments to Heather. You needed to explain this before they found out. You needed Jimin to understand your side of the story. Jimin was yours. No one else should have him. Ever since you’d set your eyes on him, you had known he was to be your newest obsession.

“Y/N?!” Heather’s screeching voice echoed up the stairs and you knew it was too late for her.

“I know what you think about me, Y/N, but I don’t feel the need to flaunt my riches. I may seem like a real stupid bitch, but I’m not.” Heather snapped, slapping the newspaper down in front of you while you waited with Jimin. He picked up the paper before you could stop him.

“Y/N? Is this true?” He asked cautiously, his eyes scanning the page.

“Y/N? How could you?”

“Y/N?” Y/N Y/N Y/N. The chant was dizzying. Everyone wanted a piece of you, damn it.

“Shut up! Shut up!” You cried, breathless.

They both stopped. Heather’s eyes were pure anger, but Jimin looked confused, lost. He abruptly stood and you went along with him. Heather turned on her heel, storming out.

“Don’t talk to me again, freak.” Heather said, her words bitter as she exited into the cold morning air. Mornings were always cold it seemed.

“How many things have you lied about? Are you even Y/N? Is that even your name?!” He questioned, the buzz of anger growing.

“I can’t...I can’t tell you that.” And you couldn’t. You’d lost track a long time ago.

“Jimin! Jimin please! Wait!” You grasped his hand desperately. He turned around furiously, sharply.

“What do you want? You wore your little disguise so well and I, like a fool, fell for it.” His voice cracked.

“I know I’ve lied about-about a lot of t-things, but I know one thing that’s the truth,” You pleaded. “I love you.”

His gaze hardened. “How do I know that’s not a lie?”

And you couldn’t tell him that either.

A pathological liar. Your mother would have been heartbroken by the label placed upon her precious daughter. You would have been offended as well if it weren’t for the objective truth.

Even when Columbia University expelled you for not only lying about grades and extracurriculars, but also just for being an awful person as they tried to lightly put it, everything still hadn’t hit home.

You were beautiful, fit for a queen. It was such a shame, then, when people also found out that you had no money. It made you hungry for the stuff. Now, the trick was to make sure they didn’t find that out.

Your mother had always been a good woman, but your father had easily gambled away all the money saved. Perhaps you got this carefree, flamboyant personality from him?

A narcissist. Not what you had expected as a new label either, but if it was in the papers, it must be true. In the end, all your little escapades had gotten you in a lot of debt, but the banks had just kept loaning you money. You had no idea why. Maybe it was like Jimin said, you had worn your disguise so well.

“Wow, a narcissist, huh?” You studied yourself in the mirror.

Your apartment was always dark, but you felt a particular chill today. You spoke to yourself, everyone else having had abandoned you.

“I don’t think that’s right.” You argued back to no one. “I’m...Y/N...the daughter of Zhao Dong. that’s me.” You said over and over, but you were no longer convinced and deep down you knew it was all a sham, a lie.

One thing had built on another and another until all the lies piled up and you could no longer dig yourself out. Your head was often spinning trying to remember everything everyone had ever told you.

But the thing was, at a certain point, it had no longer been a fib, a disguise. You had become Y/N, the daughter of Sinopec’s chairman Zhao Dong. At a certain point, you had become someone else, and that was all you had ever wanted.

Then you started laughing uncontrollably before sweeping your arm across the counter, sending various beauty products tumbling to the floor. Your body shook.

“No, no, no. It was all a lie.” You giggled. “It was just a lie, you’re just Y/N Y/L/N from a goddamn backwater town.” You slapped your cheeks, hard, as if that could erase all that was done.

It seemed that you were the villain of this fairytale, but you couldn’t quite believe it. As you looked in the mirror, the darkness of the bathroom slowly closing in around you, you could see yourself clearly.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were the evil queen and there was no snow white, just you and your shitty castle. And you were alone. Not even Jimin wanted a thing to do with you, having called your reckless actions disgusting. You had assured him you weren’t a psychopath.

You remembered the conversation on the phone after calling him several times.

“I’m sorry, how can I make it up to you?” You had asked. He had simply laughed bitterly and shifted his phone .

“You’ve already stolen everything from me, Y/N, and I fully intend to take back most of it, but you can keep the watch.” and then he hung up.

1 A.M. wake up.

Obsess over what you were going to do for the day. Fall back asleep.

3 A.M.

Get out of bed.

make yourself a cup of coffee and stare in the mirror for a while.

5 A.M.

Take a deep breath.

Start your day.

You didn’t have a home to return to. You didn’t have anyone who loved you and you most certainly didn’t have a reputation. With your face staining every front page of a newspaper, you had nowhere to hide, but you were just one person. You needed some fresh air, and where to best do that except at the top of the Empire State Building?

You were surprised to brush past Jimin on the way up to the top floor, but you should have guessed. You supposed his mother worked there. Either way, he followed you, asking if anything was wrong. Like a fucking psychopath.

“STOP!” You cried, turning to him as you reached the top floor. There had to be roof access somewhere up here.

“I want to know if you’re okay?” His eyes were kind and you were reminded of how everything had been before.

But you had already hurt each other, the past was past, there was only forward in this meaningless space of nothing.

“Haven’t I hurt you enough?!” You shouted, tears finally making their way down your face.

He pulled you back as you started to search the top floor, which was deserted save for two workers filing out for the night.

“Why are you doing this?” You whispered.

His eyes were furious, a volcano, a matchstick ready to ignite. It caught you off guard.

“Because, even though I hate you right now with every bone in my goddamn body, I would stop you from doing something stupid, like what I think you’re about to do, over and over again. No matter what.” He stopped, words stuttering, jawline clenching as he searched for the words.

“And maybe that’s what makes me the fool.”

He stepped back into the elevator and the doors slowly closed. You couldn’t bring yourself to join him, simply standing in shock at his declaration. And then he was gone. You saw him once more at a club with Heather on his arm, and after that, you never saw him again.

You would sometimes think you saw him; the flash of his silver hair, his figure ducking into a shop, the smell of him when you woke up, the taste of strawberry on your lips but he was never there. You didn’t need the money anymore. You realized...you had just wanted him.

Loving him was electrifying, like a hurricane at times and calm waters at others. You were a train on its way to be wrecked, and you had finally...run off the rails.

Fin

Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine Cashmere, cologne and hot sunshine Red racing cars, sunset and vine And we were young and pretty

Taglist: @thereaderstea , @sadboibts, @ditttiii

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snifflyjoonie · 3 years

Text

Hay(fever)

In which Namjoon’s love of autumn comes with one itchy side effect.

snz-centric with Namjoon as the sickie and Seokjin as the caretaker.

Word Count: 4255

a/n: Helloooo everyone! I was super excited about this request because, despite Namjoon being my bias, I’ve never actually written a fic for him. (If you exclude the soulmate series, of course.) This one allowed me to combine my love of autumn and allergies lol, so it was a real treat to write. The only thing I monkeyed around with a little request-wise was putting Joon and Jin on a hayride instead of just being in a car. Hope you don’t mind, anon! Anyway, I really hope you guys end up liking this one! I’m super happy I was able to get this out a lot faster than usual for you all. Enjoy the rare Joon content~

Autumn was captivating; Namjoon had always thought so. The way the biting chill of winter began to bleed its way into the summer’s overbearing heat felt oddly poetic to him. Watching the foliage start to change colour and wither made him feel grounded. All things came to an end, he reminded himself. There was beauty in the way the leaves fell from their branches. It was a seasonal memento that showcased how life’s tragedies presented new beginnings.

Plus, It didn’t hurt that he was a fan of hot apple cider and warm pumpkin cookies.

Unlike Namjoon, not all of the members shared the same sentiments towards the season change as he did — but the leader never let it bother him. He learned early on to tune out complaints so as to not let them spoil his own enjoyment. He’d lost track of how many times he’d heard groaning about the weather shift, or the clattering of teeth brought on by an underprepared (or in his eyes, overdramatic) body reaction.

Along with the beauty autumn brought, Namjoon also loved the colder weather that accompanied it. The way the beginnings of winter nipped at the very tip of his nose during late autumn mornings excited him in a way that waking up slimy with sweat on a sweltering summer day did not. If asked which he preferred, being cold or being hot, he knew he’d answer cold without a moment of hesitation. Being too hot left him feeling drained and nauseous, whereas being too cold made him feel alert and driven. It was an easy choice, in Namjoon’s eyes.

In the same way Namjoon found the member’s complaints of the cold to be melodramatic, many of the other’s got tired of hearing the leader shouting autumn praise from the rooftops. The two that gave him the most grief were easily Yoongi — whose hands were always cold as ice from autumn until spring — and Seokjin — who always seemed to catch a cold right around the time when people stopped saying “I think it might rain” and instead said “I think it might snow.”

It’s not that the two didn’t like autumn per say, they just didn’t like hearing about it every five seconds. It reminded them of the colder days yet to come, which was easily something the oldest pair of Bangtan would’ve preferred to forget. Granted, it was nice to see their leader in such high spirits, and that would never be something they would outwardly complain about, but his mood would be considerably more tolerable if he simply just chose to tone it down. That however, was something Namjoon would never do. He truly believed there wasn’t a single thing that could make him dislike the transitioning season, and he was almost always able to find the beauty in the things his members were looking forward to the least.

Excluding, of course, the way the changing greenery always seemed to make his allergies flare-up.

It happened every year without fail. The temperature would drop, the leaves would fall, and Namjoon’s nose would start itching. Despite its yearly recurrence, the leader never seemed to readily anticipate the way his body would fully reject autumn to the highest degree. To Namjoon, when the weather got warmer his allergies were simply out of sight, out of mind. He was always ill-prepared for the watery eyes and runny nose that would seemingly come out of nowhere after he spent maybe a bit too long outside admiring the colours. The irony of the situation was not lost on him, and his members always made sure to tease him enough so he wouldn’t forget it, but overall he didn’t mind too much. Namjoon wasn’t the type to let a sniffly nose stop him from enjoying the things he loved the most.

Which, he supposed, was exactly why he ended up sneezing enough to get dragged off of a half-finished hayride in the first place.

“Hyung.”

The sound of Namjoon’s voice pulls Yoongi’s attention away from his computer as he glances over his shoulder to find the younger man standing in his studio doorway.

“Joon-ah.” Yoongi responds with a low, almost disinterested-sounding hum. He pulls one side of his headphones from his ear and turns himself back towards his computer. He doesn’t directly say it, but the gesture is enough for Namjoon to know he’s welcomed inside, and he quickly closes the door behind himself.

“Are you busy?”

Yoongi shrugs. He’s always busy; or at least it feels that way.

“No.” He answers, blowing a tired-sounding breath through his nose as he adjusts himself at his desk. “What’s up?”

Namjoon walks himself further inside and takes a seat at the couch closest to Yoongi’s set up. Yoongi steals a glance at him, one eyebrow raised as he watches Namjoon pull his phone from his pocket. He’s starting to wonder if something may’ve happened, as it wasn’t often that Namjoon dropped by unannounced, but Namjoon was fast to explain his sudden visit.

“I know this probably isn’t your thing,” Is what the leader starts out with, and it takes every ounce of self-control Yoongi can muster to not grimace at what might be coming. “but I was supposed to go with Hoseok, and he’s still not feeling very well.” Namjoon pulls up some sort of article on his phone and flips it around for Yoongi to see. The rapper squints at the image and this time can’t stop his face from contorting in distaste.

“Are those...pumpkins?” He asks, his lips forming a thin line as Namjoon nods in confirmation.

“Yeah, it’s a one-day event this organization is hosting. Like...a pop-up?” Namjoon explains with a sigh as he leans himself further back into Yoongi’s couch. “They’re setting up a lot of things that are pretty common this time of year out west. I guess there’s going to be pumpkin carving, hayrides...things like that. Hoseok agreed to go with me a few weeks ago, but...that cold he caught isn’t letting up.” The leader shoots Yoongi a look that instantly clues the rapper in to what he’s hinting at. He lets out a sigh and folds his arms across his chest as he waits for the inevitable.

“The event is only happening today, and I was really looking forward to it, so if you’re not busy...I was wondering if you might come with me, instead.”

There it is. Yoongi can’t help but frown. Activities like this really weren’t his thing, and he knew the other knew this. He figures Namjoon must have truly been excited for the one-time event to have even come to ask him in the first place.

“Did you ask the younger guys already?” Yoongi deadpans as he brings a knuckle up to his nose. He can tell immediately that this isn’t the type of reaction Namjoon was hoping for as the leader’s face falls ever so slightly.

“They’ve got a photoshoot or something today.” Namjoon explains and Yoongi’s eyes soften. It explains why Namjoon came to him — he really didn’t have many other options with Hoseok being down and out. “They left pretty early this morning. Not sure when they’ll be back.” The leader sighs and looks everywhere but Yoongi as he leans forward again, resting his elbows onto his knees and folding his hands together in front of himself. “Hyung, if you don’t want to it’s not a big deal.”

Yoongi hums. It’s a deep, low sound as he searches for the right way to let Namjoon down. He really has no interest in something like this, but he still manages to feel a bit badly for the leader, anyway.

“Honestly, Joon-ah,” He starts after a brief silence, “I think I might be catching whatever Hobi-yah has. I probably shouldn’t.” It isn’t a lie, his sinuses have been stinging since the early morning and his throat was starting to feel a bit raw, but he knew the excuse was still pretty weak. He felt fine enough to do things, he just really didn’t want to go.

Namjoon makes a disappointed noise as he sucks air in through his teeth. It’s almost enough to make Yoongi feel guilty.

“No worries.” The leader says as he pushes himself back up with a small grunt. “I didn’t think it would really be something you’d find interesting, but I thought I’d ask anyway.” He scoffs to himself and adjusts the beanie on his head. “Honestly I’d be fine just going myself, but...I can’t drive and it’s too far to bike.”

“Why not request a driver?”

Namjoon shakes his head and waves a hand at him dismissively as he turns to leave. “Doesn’t seem important enough to bug the staff.” He admits. “I’d feel bad making the driver wait around for just me.”

“What about Jin-hyung?”

Yoongi watches Namjoon pause in his tracks. He looks over his shoulder at him, and the expression of realization on his face nearly makes Yoongi crack a smile.

“I didn’t even think to ask him.” Confesses Namjoon. “Do you think he’d go?”

Yoongi shrugs, he really doesn’t know. To him, it could go either way.

“I mean, if you want to go that badly, it would be worth it to ask him, don’t you think?”

Namjoon seems to mull it over before ultimately nodding in agreement. It makes Yoongi feel a bit better about his refusal — the ball was now out of his court and firmly in Seokjin’s. He was sure he’d hear about it from his hyung later on — Yoongi had fully thrown him under the bus knowing very well Seokjin had a hard time saying no to Namjoon — but he’d cross that bridge when he’d get to it.

“Thanks for the advice, hyung.” Namjoon smiles, his dimples making an appearance against his honey-coloured cheeks. “I hope you start to feel better.”

Yoongi grunts out a sound that could possibly be interpreted as ‘thank you’ and pulls his headphones back into place as Namjoon closes the door behind him. Some part of him hopes that Namjoon will manage to convince Seokjin to go, but he doesn’t dwell on it too long. He has work to do, anyway.

Seokjin steps out of their vehicle and instantly regrets every decision he’s made that has led him to this point as an icy burst of autumn wind whips his hair in a thousand different directions. He shoves his hands as deep as they can possibly go into his trenchcoat’s pockets and buries his nose down into the collar. He wishes that he had simply told Namjoon sorry, not this time, but after trying to pawn the obligation off onto Yoongi (and finding out the other had done the exact same to him) he felt too badly for the leader to refuse his request any further.

That was how Seokjin found himself standing in an open field in the middle of autumn very much wishing he had slipped on an extra layer before leaving the dorms. Or two. Or three.

“Hyung,”

Seokjin turns at the sound of the honourific and meets eyes with Namjoon’s smiling face. The leader’s nose is already turning a soft pink from the chilly weather and Seokjin is almost positive he looks much the same, if not worse. He just wasn’t built for the cold in the same way Namjoon was.

“Anything you want to do first?” Namjoon asks, his bright smile never faltering. Seokjin wondered why the leader seemed to get so much joy out of standing around and freezing for a few hours but he supposed he was grateful he could play a part in it.

“Whatever you want, Joon-ah.” He answers with a small smile and an even smaller sniffle. He removes a hand from the comforting warmth of his pocket to swipe a finger very briefly against the underside of his nose. He swears that if he catches a cold Namjoon will never hear the end of it. “Maybe we could grab some hot chocolate?”

Namjoon lights up brighter still at the mention of the warm drinks (something Seokjin didn’t think would be humanly possible) and is instantly nodding his head in agreeance.

“That’s a great idea.” Hums the rapper as he too ends up sniffling quietly against the back of his hand. “The entrance to the event is just up ahead, I think we might need wristbands.”

Seokjin nods as Namjoon leads the way. The entrance itself isn’t very far, in fact Seokjin can see it from their parked car, but he still wished they had parked closer, anyway.

The event itself was taking place entirely outside in a large field the hosting organization seemed to have rented for the day. There was a knee high wooden gate around most of the area that was funneling people into a single open entrance where they could collect wristbands that then allowed them free reign to the activities inside. From what Namjoon had told him, it seemed like most of the activities were generally popular out west where holidays like Halloween were more widely celebrated. Seokjin supposed he was excited to an extent — he always enjoyed experiencing new things — but he just wished the weather could be a little bit warmer.

The two men approach the entrance after their short walk over and Seokjin’s teeth are already chattering. He listens to Namjoon say a few words to the ticketer before he starts to fish his wallet from his back pocket. Seokjin tries to follow suit, but Namjoon is quick to stop him.

“If you think you’re buying your own ticket, you’re crazy.” He chuckles, the sound deep and low. It reminds Seokjin of waves crashing against the shore. “It’s on me, hyung. I appreciate you coming.”

Seokjin tries to object but Namjoon is having none of it, politely refusing each of Seokjin’s rebuttals. Eventually, the eldest gives up, and simply sticks his wrist out for the ticketer to apply his paper band. Namjoon is smiling as he watches, his dimples having not left his cheeks since they first arrived, when Seokjin notices his eyes start to squint ever so slightly. It almost looks as if he’s just thought of something new he wants to say, or like he’s realized he left the oven on, but Seokjin knows better and adverts his eyes to give the other a bit of privacy.

Sure enough, not a moment later he hears Namjoon suck in a sharp inhale of breath and can see him twist to the side out of the corner of his eye.

“hh— hH’KTtch’hiu!”

Seokjin looks back over in time to see the aftermath, namely Namjoon bent down into his steepled hands, before the leader rises back up with a sniffle he presses against the back of a wrist.

“Sorry.” He scoffs at himself and clears his throat ever so slightly. “Alright— let’s go get something warm to drink.”

Seokjin hums in agreement, accepting a pamphlet the ticketer offers him. He folds it open and gives the small map inside a look-over as he closely follows Namjoon into the main area.

It doesn’t take the two of them very long to find the drink stand and this time Seokjin firmly puts his foot down when Namjoon tries to also buy both of their drinks. He quickly fishes out his own wallet and hands over money before the other can object any further. The singer accepts the drinks with a warm smile and tries to hand one over to Namjoon, but the rapper is hurriedly turning away again and burying his face into his hands.

“hh’NGtx’ch! ha’INGTch’hiuu!”

“Yaah,” Seokjin tries to make his tone sound scolding, the way a hyung should sound when lecturing a dongsaeng, but ultimately he thinks he misses the mark. “You’re not catching Hoseok-ah’s cold, are you?”

Namjoon responds with a shake of his head as he sniffles tentatively into the palms of his hands. When he rises back up, Seokjin is quick to notice the deeper shade of pink his nostrils have turned.

“Sorry, I’m good.” He tries to assure, reaching out to take one of the styrofoam cups from Seokjin’s hands. “Thanks for the hot chocolate.”

Seokjin eyes him warily but ultimately just nods his head, taking a sip of his drink. He can’t stop himself from basking in its warmth, letting out an appreciative hum as the chill in his bones backs off ever so slightly.

“Hyung, have you ever been on a hayride?”

The question catches Seokjin a little off guard as he swallows down another warm sip of hot chocolate.

“I’m not really sure.” He admits. “I don’t think so.”

“Well...would you go on one with me now?” Namjoon gestures somewhere behind Seokjin’s head and the singer turns around to, sure enough, spot a carriage filled with hay and other patrons being pulled by two beautiful brown horses. “I’ve never gotten to ride one before, either.” Finishes the other.

“Sure, Joon-ah.” Agrees Seokjin as he takes another gulp of his warm drink. He has no reason to object, plus the way Namjoon’s face lights up is enough to make the prospective hayride worthwhile.

The two men are quick to scurry over, not wanting to miss this carriage and have to stand around waiting for the next. They flash their wristbands at the driver who motions for them to hop into the back. They do their best to scramble inside, handing each other their drinks as they hoist themselves in one at a time. The carriage is fairly spacious, and they find a nice spot near the back that is cushioned comfortably by a large bundle of hay.

Namjoon is absolutely beaming as a worker assists a few more patrons into the carriage before signaling to the driver that all of the seats were taken. His enthusiasm makes Seokjin smile as he huddles himself a bit deeper into his coat. Thankfully, the carriage was blocking most of the wind, making Seokjin feel like they had made the right choice in choosing to go for a quick ride.

They are able to hear a sharp jingling sound of the reigns being manipulated before the carriage gives an abrupt jerk. The two men bump their shoulders against each other from the slight jostle as the carriage begins to move, sending them off on their very first hayride.

For the first few minutes, even Seokjin finds himself having fun. He’s laughing along with Namjoon as they sip their drinks and admire the gorgeous fall scenery around them. The crisp smell of autumn combined with the slightly musty smell of the hay and horses leave Seokjin feeling oddly nostalgic despite having never smelt a smell like this before.

Namjoon however was seemingly not faring as well as Seokjin to the strong seasonal smells that wafted aggressively around their carriage. It didn’t take long for his laughter to start to peter out and instead get replaced by increasingly wet, urgent sounding sniffles.

“Are you alright, Joon-ah?” Seokjin finally asks. He had tried to ignore the sounds of the other’s sniffles as best he could, but even some of the other riders nearby were starting to take notice.

Namjoon turns to Seokjin and gives his head a small shake, aggressively pinching his nose between a thumb and forefinger in a rapid itching motion. Seokjin is quick to take notice of how red the appendage has become, as well as the way Namjoon’s eyes seem to be welling up with tears.

“What’s going on?” He tries asking again, but instead of answering Namjoon is thrusting his half-finished hot chocolate into Seokjin’s free hand. The rapper wastes no time leaning himself nearly fully into his lap, wrapping both hands tightly around his nose and mouth as he lets out a quick burst of sneezes that Seokjin can’t help but notice sound horribly, horribly itchy.

“Yaaa, Joon-ah, what’s—”

The singer is cut off when Namjoon explodes into yet another round of sneezes that tumble out of him without a moment for breath in between. Each one sounds more powerful than the last, and when he’s finally finished, the only word Seokjin can think to describe the gasp of air he takes is ‘greedy’.

Seokjin carefully sets Namjoon’s hot chocolate between his knees and extends his hand out to the other, gripping his shoulder tightly and yanking so the younger man would look at him. When Namjoon does turn, Seokjin can’t stop his mouth from falling agape. Namjoon’s eyes are red rimmed and tears are spilling from them at a rapid pace. His nose is as bright as a strawberry, and his nostrils twitch in a way that indicates his sneezing is nowhere near done.

People are staring now, and in Seokjin’s eyes, it’s warranted. He tries to keep Namjoon’s attention on him but the other is slowly coming undone as his breath starts to catch in his throat once again. He brings his shaky hands up to his nose and mouth and this time turns his body inwards towards Seokjin. He manages to suck in a quick breath before ducking down with three sneezes that sound pinched and strained, the man very clearly doing everything he can to try and keep them contained.

“hh’KXxgt! ‘Nngxt’chh! huh’INGgxt!”

Seokjin wastes no time digging into his pockets to find the tissues he had crammed into them prior to leaving the dorms. He had figured with the cold weather he might have ended up sporting a bit of a runny nose during the day’s activities, but instead the tissues were clearly going to be put to a much better use. He grabs a handful and guides them into Namjoon’s hands, receiving a grateful, relieved sigh in return.

The rapper brings the tissues up to his face, first using them to dab at his streaming eyes before hasity securing them around his horribly twitchy nose and blowing forcefully. The sound is productive and nasally and makes more than one person around them turn their heads in distaste. Seokjin is almost one of them.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks as Namjoon catches two more sneezes into the tissues in between blows.

“Dunno—” The younger chokes out, following it up with an itchy cough as he squeezes his eyes shut in irritation. “But my nose is on fire.”

Seokjin opens and closes his mouth, truly at a loss for words. It isn’t until a burst of wind stirs the loose hay in the carriage that the realization begins to dawn on him.

“Namjoon-ah,” He starts as the other recovers from yet another bout of sneezing. “Please tell me you took an antihistamine before we left.”

The way Namjoon looks at him with pure, unbridled guilt is enough to tell Seokjin that he most definitely did not. Without hesitating further, Seokjin yells for the driver to stop the carriage. He manages to hold both of their drinks in one hand while his other stays busy firmly dragging Namjoon off of the carriage as the other snuffles uselessly into his soggy tissues.

Seokjin doesn’t let go of Namjoon’s forearm until he has dragged the other so far away from the carriage that they can barely see it anymore. He turns to Namjoon with a look on his face that exudes pure exasperation.

“You didn’t take an antihistamine and you wanted to go on a hayride?”

“I didn’t think it would — hh! — didn’t think it would matter.”

“Namjoon-ah.” Seokjin was bewildered. “You have hayfever.”

“What’s that — hAH’KTCHh’hiuu!” He cuts himself off with a sneeze that he catches into his elbow before turning back to Seokjin with a sharp, wet sniffle. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“That was a hayride.”

“I didn’t think hayfever actually had anything to do with hay.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and lets his head fall into his hands. Yoongi was absolutely going to get an earful for setting him up like this as soon as they got back home.

“It doesn’t, but—” He sighs and pulls his head back up. “Use some common sense next time, at least. God, if I would’ve known you hadn’t taken anything, I would’ve…” He sighs again, this time really letting it drag out, before turning his attention back to his sniffly counterpart with a much softer expression on his face. “Are you alright, now? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sneeze that much.”

“Yeah, I think so.” Namjoon murmurs, but he follows it up with a rough scrub of his horribly reddened nose. “My nose is just itchy.”

Seokjin can’t help but feel for him.

“I’m sure it is.” He hums.

He really does feel badly for Namjoon — they hadn’t even been at this event for a full hour before Namjoon’s own negligence threw a wrench into their plans. He knows how much the rapper had been looking forward to this, and it made him feel bad that they clearly were going to have to cut the activities short.

“Tell you what.” He finally speaks, catching eyes with the sniffly man across from him. “Why don’t we try picking out some pumpkins and just bring them back to the dorms to carve there, instead?”

The smile that overtakes Namjoon’s face is as bright as the sun and instantly warms Seokjin’s heart as he finally hands the other back his now lukewarm hot chocolate.

“And hey,” He starts to add, a coy smile creeping onto his lips, “Why don’t we pick one out for Yoongi-yah, too?”

#this one is a DOOZY #and I am actually very proud of it #i busted out 6/7 pages tonight and ended up finishing it which like never ever happens for me so i am veeeeery over the moon #i really hope you all like this one!#mine #bts sickfic #allergic!namjoon #bts snzfic #bts snz

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ananapanini · 3 years

Text

Sicknesses, Disasters, and Weather

Trigger Warning! descriptions of injuries and death! For example: mention of blood, burning, drowning, freezing, heatstroke, etc.

Side note before hand because it's technically relevant

A state that's down south and almost always has hot weather would feel warmer to others and be affected by the cold easier, while a state up north with colder weather would feel colder to others and be affected by heat easier.

Fighting over thermostats and cuddles ensue

(Most people go to Alaska when they have a fever, and to Georgia when they're going through a cold front (they'd go to Florida but he's chaos and Texas is,, Texas. Besides, Geo has blankets))

Wisconsin: *opening all the house's doors and windows to enjoy the nice warm 60 degree weather*

Texas: *on the couch in a bundle of 5 blankets* how the fuck are you not dead

Florida: *next to Texas, trying to steal some blankets* Sconnie, I love ya dude but I will not hesitate to set this house on fire to warm up

Colds/Flus

The states can get sick two ways, outbreaks or just catching it.

Outbreaks

If there are a ton of outbreaks of something, for example: flu season, in their state there's a 50/50 chance they develop symptoms for however long the illness would last for someone who actually caught it. Though they'd suffer through the symptoms, they wouldn't actually have it and wouldn't be contagious or anything. But! Just because they're not contagious doesn't mean the other states wouldn't back up when they hear the news, being coughed on is still gross even if it doesn't endanger your health.

According to last year's report Louisiana had the most influenza outbreaks, followed by Arizona, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Indiana, Kentucky, Mississippi, Nevada, Tennessee and Texas. So for that years flu season Louisiana would be sick and at least half of the others listed would also be sick.

Catching it

Now, they probably have really strong immune systems.

Or at least, they should but things can happen in the state that compromises that.

If there's a natural disaster, somethings changing in the state's government (new governor, new law, system change, etc), or there's riots impeding/distracting the state government their immune systems would be weak for however long it takes to readjust or fix the problem. During this time they can actually get sick, symptoms and all.

If this happened then the state would be contagious to the other states, immune system be damned. It'd be like when another person is sick, you have a chance of catching it.

On the rare occasion there'll be a state with a naturally horrible immune system (his name's Washington, someone please get him a cough drop and some water)

He doesn't have people or land for outbreaks to affect him, only the government buildings.

Instead of having outbreaks he has government workers, if a handful of them or just the president gets sick he'll have the 50/50 chance of having symptoms.

Now, if the government is going through big changes or something is happening then DC will have a weaker immune system and would be able to get sick from the states. They honestly don't know if he could get them sick because he always self isolates and denies help when he is.

If there's some serious chaos going on with changes in government then he'll just straight up get sick. No catching it from anyone, nothing giving him a bug, he just develops symptoms of a really bad cold.

Recap:

Humans can't get states sick unless the state isn't at 100%, unless it's just an outbreak states can get other states sick no matter what, states can't get DC sick unless he's not at 100% leaving him as the designated caretaker when no one else wants to help (he would help regardless even if he could get sick, tis his job as parent friend)

Hurricanes + Tropical Storms

The way they affect the state depends how much damage was done and how their population reacts to it.

For example, a tropical storm or low level hurricane would maybe give Florida a bit of head rush or he'll get a little dizzy but nothing he can't ignore with a white claw. His people are used to them and honestly Don't Give A Fuck, if the house is fine and the car's still there we move on with our lives.

Then you have states that rarely get hurricanes and would panic when one hits, even if it's just a weak one. They'd have a headache, feel dizzy and sore.

Then there's higher level hurricanes, for those bruises will appear along with a migraine. Everything hurts and they're coughing up water, it's hard to breathe, and cuts from debris being thrown around by the winds are appearing everywhere.

In the end though, regardless of what scale it was, they're always left soaking wet and cold.

Earthquakes

First there's the feeling of a sea sick like nausea, that's the only warning they feel and only a few states (Literally just California and Alaska, someone please help them, the poor fault line babes) know how to recognize it instantly.

If they're outside of their own state then they'll get dizzy, balance is Gone and they fall over. If they're lucky enough to not hit their head or crash into something when they fall over then depending on the magnitude they could black out any number of times. I say black out and not pass out because while usually mixed up, blacking out doesn't always mean you loose consciousness.

Their vision goes completely, their eyes are open but all they can see is a dull black with staticky darker specks causing, well, static. They can't see if they try and if it's one of their first earthquakes they do try but it hurts to keep their eyes open, only worsening the feeling that their head is splitting open.

Sometimes their skin cracks. Sometimes if a highly urbanized area was hit and buildings go crashing they feel an invisible weight building up on their chest, it can lead to trouble breathing, or a broken rib, maybe multiple broken ribs.

Fires

There's two kinds of fires, fire season which is mostly for the western states and Florida who have the normal yearly stuff that the ecosystems need in order to function, and then there's when fires get out of hand and turn into disasters.

Fire Season:

Fevers that can range from low to high depending on how much land is burning, overheating when things, tiredness, dry skin, but overall manageable symptoms. Occasionally there are bad days but it's usually chill. It's not particularly nice, it sucks actually, but it's a yearly thing and they're used to it.

During the worse parts of fire season, for states with a ton of land on fire, smoke will come off them. They can suppress it but it takes a lot of energy. Statehouse living situation isn't the easiest because now it'd really suck to smoke out the house, others could get hurt, so they get good at minimizing it. (This mostly applies to California)

Irregular, Out of hand, or Man-Made:

A really high fever and burns slowly appearing everywhere. Smoke is harder to control and fills their lungs, making it hard to breathe. Sometimes they'll straight up faint, staying conscious while you're literally burning up isn't easy.

Death

They're immortal for as long as whatever they're a personification of exists. They can die just like any of person and it'll be painful but they always just,,, wake up. In the exact same spot they died except healed. If whatever killed them is still there then they'll die until it's over or someone saves them. If they die multiple times within a short period of time then every time they come back they'll have healed less and less.

Leftover Stuff

Floods = Initial flooding has them throwing up water and sometimes they can't breathe but afterwards it's more of just a cold, murky feeling in their chest (since these usually happen during big hurricanes just slap this on top)

Droughts = dehydration (dry skin, thirsty, insert symptoms of dehydration here)

Heatwaves = just, hot. For no reason. Air conditioning? Ice pack? Fan? Doesn't matter, they're hot.

Cold fronts = same story, different day. Blankets, jackets, and heaters don't matter or help much, they are cold. Depending how cold it gets and taking into comparison the usual temperature for their state they can develop hypothermia.

Tornadoes = Dizzy and disorientation. Bruises if they hit populated areas and destroyed stuff.

Dust Storms = trouble breathing, irritated eyes, more trouble breathing. Afterwards there's that feeling of when you went to the beach yesterday and suddenly there's the crunch of sand in your mouth.

Power Outage = they can't turn on or operate electric things, even living in the statehouse. For example, with the situation in Texas he wouldn't be able to turn on the lights, flipping the switch wouldn't do anything, but another state could do it for him (if they choose to help)

#they all need hugs #panini’s posts #welcome to the statehouse #welcome to the table #ben brainard #wttsh #wttt #sickness cw #storm cw #earthquake cw #fire cw #death cw #natural disaster cw #theories

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sapphire-strikes · 4 years

Note

Jimothen would absolutely take FK and Parsley camping! Since Dallas drives out, I can't imagine he'd pass a chance to tag along - and I imagine Parsley would be more willing if FK was there. His dad is a lot and everyone know it! Manly camping!!!

I just want to say thank you so much for this request I had a lot of fun with it!

• Out of all the father son bonding time Parsley is forced into, camping is his least favorite. He's not a very outdoorsy person at all. The bugs, the burnt food, sleeping on the ground; it's not exactly his idea of a good time and Jimothan's insistence on roughing it as much as possible only makes it worse.

• Jimothan proudly brought up their upcoming yearly trip at the Lounge one day and you mentioned that you hadn't been in a while and that camping sounded like a lot of fun. This immediately caught Parsley's attention and he was quick to suggest you come along with them.

• Jimothan was surprisingly okay with this idea as well. He'd always been so insistent on it being a father-son trip but he was already proudly blustering on about showing you how to pitch a tent "the right way".

• Parsley on the other hand was just happy to have someone to suffer with. And who knows, his dad might even tone it down a notch with you around. He almost felt bad, you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

• A few days later while hanging out with Dallas you mentioned getting to tag along with them and he congratulated you, wistfully mentioning how much he loved group camping trips. A few minutes later and you're making a call to Parsley asking if there was room for one more

• Jimothan remembered Dallas from their time at the Habitat but overall didn't know much about the guy besides what he usually orders at the bar.

"I don't know, the kid's one thing but we only have so much room in the truck. You ever been camping before, son?"

"Allll the time, daddy-O~ The mystique of the forest really scratches the id, y'know? Makes for a excellent atelier~"

"What in the sam hill does that-"

"He goes there to paint." You clarified "Oh and don't worry about space! We can just take Dallas's bus, he's got plenty of room."

Dallas flashed Jimothan the "OK" symbol and though he still looked reluctant, Parsley was already on board and looking more excited about going camping than he had in a long time.

"I'm just happy I don't have to ride in the bed of the pickup this year." Parsley sighed in relief.

"Oh don't complain. I always tell you; the Breeo X Series 19 Firemaster has to sit up front with me for safe keeping."

• When it comes to actually camping, Jimothan is old fashioned but impressively efficient. When you pick out a spot and begin unpacking your things he's already working on setting up the tents and starting a fire. Fishing, hiking, rock climbing, he tries to fit in as many outdoorsy activates into the weekend as possible. .

• Dallas takes a much more relaxed approach to camping. He brings a lot of modern amenities and prefers to sleep in his bus instead of out in the open. Spending most of his free time finding a good place to set up a temporary studio and painting

• Much to Jimothan's dismay, Parsley latches onto this laid back approach to camping and ends up spending most of his time with Dallas.

"C'mon, Pars, Marv told me the lake north of here is full of biters!"

"Uh, thank, dad...but I'll have to pass for today. Dallas and I are gonna go swimming though, so maybe I'll see you up by the stream?" Parsley was awkwardly dancing around his dad's enthusiasm and you weren't blind to the dejection and annoyance that was building in Jimothan's eyes every time Dallas stepped in to join one of their activities or offer an easier alternative to Jimothan's bare bones way of camping.

• Dallas really was just doing his best to be friendly even going out of his way to strike up conversation with Jimothan despite the older man's gruff attitude.

• Considering that Parsley never shared his love of camping, Jimothan gets pretty excited if you show interest in what he's working on or ask him to assist you with something. Though he does tend to take over and show you how to do it as opposed to just helping.

• You do your best to keep him from feeling left out but unfortunately this backfires and now you're the one he's waking up at 5am to go hiking. You had to admit you felt bad for him but you were beginning to understand what Parsley meant about his dad being a lot to handle. Still, it's actually kind of sweet. He really does just want someone to share a common interest with and pass all his tricks onto. He just lacked basic communication skills.

• Speaking of Parsley, he seemed to genuinely be enjoying himself this time around. He got along really well with Dallas, even modeling in front of the sunset for him at one point.

Unfortunately Jimothan’s over eagerness begins to wear on you and you find yourself tempted by the dark side. "You sure you don't want to stick around? Dallas is gonna show me how to make dream catchers." Parsley asked, scooting over to make room for you near the fire.

"I probably shouldn't. Jimothan already asked me if I wanted to go rock climbing with him."

"Rock climbing? You mean on that 30ft tall cliff by the waterfall? You nodded wearily. "Yeah, he already tried to get me to go too, buddy system and all that. But I get forced into that stuff every year. Missing it this one time won't hurt him."

"I don't know, he seemed pretty excited." Just as you were struggling with your decision Dallas emerged from his bus holding an assortment of crafting supplies.

"Heyy, little buddy, are you going to be joining us? I've got some pressed flowers you could use for yours, it'll fit your aesthetic perfectly~" Before you could answer, Parsley pulled you down to sit beside him.

"You bet they are!" Okay, maybe a quick crafts break wouldn't hurt.

• Before you knew it three hours had passed and you were doing outdoors yoga alongside Dallas and Parsley with flowers braided into your hair. The serene atmosphere only being broken by Jimothan stomping into camp. He was soaking wet and looked like he had taken quite the tumble. The annoyed look on his face only reconfirmed this theory.

"So...how was rock climbing?" Parsley asked nervously. The only response any of you received was a furrowed brow before he angrily retreated into the tent to change.

• After a bit of time he eventually returned and went about readying the camp for dinner. It was beginning to get dark so you, Dallas and Parsley were sitting on the top of the bus watching the stars. The view was nice but there was just one thing missing.

"Hey, Jimothan, you should get up here, the views amazing!" Parsley seemed to catch onto what you were doing and followed your lead.

"They're right ya know. It is pretty cool up here." Parsley seemed to finally have caught his attention and he looked to actually be considering it for a second but shook his head.

"Nah, you kids have fun. I need to get this fire started." There was a hint of sadness to his voice as he went back to smacking his wet flint and steel together. They must have been in his pocket when he took his tumble down the waterfall.

Dallas leaned over the railing at the top of the bus. "There's no need for that, my guy. If you can't get that started I've got a microwave in the back, we can have Pad Thai." He seemed to be trying to raise the mood but Jimothan didn't offer his addition so much as a glance. He did however huff and begin smacking the flint and steel together much more aggressively.

You and Parsley gave each other a worried glance but it was interrupted by Dallas placing a hand on each of your shoulders. He winked and seemed to be giving you a look that implied, 'let me handle this', before effortlessly vaulting over the railing and sliding down the side of the bus.

Without missing a beat he kneeled down beside Jimothan and pulled put a ligher. Quickly flicking it alight and holding it beside the piece of newspaper he was trying to start the fire with. "I feel you though, nothing like cooking over a real fire, right?"

• Jimothan looked at him in awe for a moment and Dallas just gave him a friendly smile. Then Jimothan threw down his flint and steel, stood up and marched off into the forest.

Parsley slapped a hand to his forehead and slouched backwards, "Oh boy..." You scrambled down the ladder to stand beside Dallas who was still staring in the direction Jimothan had stormed off in.

"Did I say something wrong?" He looked at you worriedly but before you could answer Parsley slid down the ladder to stand beside you.

Nah, not really. He's just...not good with change."

• Jimothan goes pretty quiet after that, eventually returning to huffily chop wood not far from the camp. After a bit you offer to go talk to him but Parsley steps up insisting that he should be the one to do it.

• You and Dallas sit by the fire, just barely being able to make out their shapes as they talked off in the distance. You couldn't hear what they were saying but just watching their silhouettes interact told the whole story.

• Jimothan seemed to be ignoring him for a while until Parsley picked up an axe and started chopping alongside him. There was an obvious struggle on Parsley's part that was enough to catch Jimothan's attention and soon he moved to show him how to do it properly. Adjusting the wood on the chopping block, showing him how to hold the axe right and demonstrating the proper chopping motion. He then stepped back to let Parsley try again, giving a small applause as he successfully split a log down the middle.

There a moment of stillness as Parsley seemed to be speaking then he walked forward and hugged his dad. Jimothan froze for a moment then hugged him back. They stayed like that for a bit and you almost wished you could have heard what they were talking about.

• Not long after that Parsley came walking back into the light with Jimothan close behind him. There was a clear bit of awkward tension in the air but Dallas was the first to stand up and apologizes for having done anything that may have upset him. This was enough to get Jimothan to speak up, and he insisted that Dallas had nothing to be sorry for.

"You're here as a guest. I'm sorry for causing a scene. If Parsley happy doing..." He vaguely motioned to Dallas's bus, "whatever it is you've been doing... then maybe I need to open up a bit"

Parsley was smiling at him proudly but he raised a hand, "Just a bit though!"

• The next morning all four of you went spear fishing then later that evening Dallas set up a projector and you had a little horror movie marathon. You even got Jimothan to make a dream catcher. It was a disastrous collage of fish hooks and rocks but he seemed proud of it so you hung it up with the others.

• Dallas plays the acoustic guitar and Jimothan plays the Banjo and as it turns ou the two of them have a mutual love of campfire songs. You're forever grateful to Parsley for thinking ahead and bringing an extra pair of noise canceling headphone for you because those two go on for hours. Seeing them both go all out together is incredibly sweet though.

• When it comes time to pack up and leave Jimothan offers Dallas a hand shake but Dallas goes straight for the hug. Leaving Jimothan to give him an awkward pat on the back as he half returned it.

• Parsley has already assured you that you're definitely coming next year, no exceptions. And who knows, they might even make it a tradition to start bringing some of the others as well.

#smile for me #parsley botch #jimothan botch #sfm #reader/flower kid #Finally finished somthing!#and there's more on the way #thank you all for requesting and reading!

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faustian-familiar · 4 years

Text

Main 6 with an MC who is a pastry chef

This was a really fun request by @ojirosero , thanks for the ask and hope you enjoy!

~~~~~

Asra

-He’s an extremely creative person when it comes to food. He approaches you all the time with ideas for new flavor combinations and decorating ideas. If you want his help, he’s eager to join you in the kitchen and create something with you.

-Baking becomes another form of magic. When Asra sees how passionate you are about it, he teaches you how to manipulate energy so that enchantments go into the food. Soon eating one of your cupcakes can give people a boost of confidence, or a dash of good luck. He builds a display case for the shop so your beautiful creations are the first thing people see when they walk in.

-He asks you one morning to take a walk with him down to the market. That’s certainly not unusual, but what is unusual is when he stops in front of a notably empty market stall.

“Hm, what do you think of this one, MC?”

“What do you mean?”

Asra grins at you fondly, then goes behind the stall and retrieves a handpainted sign from under the counter.

“Do you think your new sign will look good on this stall?”

The sign is inordinately beautiful, depicting a cascade of baked delights carried on flowing swirls of color, advertising your magical pastries.

Julian

-He is very interested in what you do and enthusiastic about supporting you, but he unfortunately lacks grace in the kitchen. The times he has tried to help you have resulted in batter on the walls, and once a food fight where Julian was unrecognizable from the amount of frosting you smeared on his face.

-You soon have an extensive library of cookbooks and technical manuals. Every time Julian spots a book that may be relevant to you he snatches it up. Parcels arrive on the doorstep, wrapped in brown paper and filled with exotic recipes from across the globe. Immigrants to Vesuvia approach you often to tell you that you’re the only place they can find a reminder of home.

-You go on house calls with Julian every Sunday, both of you laden with large baskets filled with pastries. He checks up on his patients while you both visit with them, and leave small bundles of sweets to brighten their day.

Nadia

-Nadia can’t help but boast about you. You’re not only a talented magician, but you’re also a prolific pastry chef? She considers your work the finest she’s had and requests your pastries to be showcased at every luncheon and party she hosts. Your baked goods are displayed in opulent silver tiers and discussed by the nobility as a wonderful contribution to Vesuvia’s cuisine.

-Nadia studies your process and invents contraptions to make it easier. You’re the first in the kingdom to have a mechanical mixer and a blender, which she patents and distributes to others when you rave about how useful they are.

-You write to her mother and find out how to make her favorite Prakran dessert, a fried dough dipped in a sugar and saffron glaze. You present it to Nadia for her birthday, and get the surprise of her eyes filling with grateful tears. On the morning of your birthday, you’re presented with a slightly lopsided but lovingly prepared cake.

Portia

-She loves baking too, and you often work together in the kitchen for your creations. Her favorites are intricate tiered cakes with colorful, eye-catching decorations, as well as making cakes that look like other foods (she’d absolutely be on the cutting edge of that meme).

-You’re famous among Portia’s coworkers for your baking and they bug her on a weekly basis to bring in something. She likes to try strange flavors. You once made a chili and mango cupcake that went over really well with the other servants. The goat milk and caramel cookie... well, not as much.

-She convinces you to start making animal-friendly bakes, and before long your pet treats are selling just as fast as your other pastries. Portia takes a basket of the treats to the animal shelter every week to donate.

Muriel

-The best thing about being a baker with Muriel is making new things for him to try. It takes him a long time to warm up to the idea of sweets, and in general the concept of eating something simply because he enjoys it, but he secretly loves all the things you make. He loves them so much, in fact, that one night you feel something under your pillow and find a bundle - a new apron he’s sewn by hand for you.

-He starts foraging for you. He will take little quests into the forest, returning with strange flowers and berries and nuts and asking you to make something out of them. No one in Vesuvia can make the creations you do - unless, that is, they’re willing to cave dive for it.

-Muriel always hangs around the kitchen when you bake, watching silently, but after a few months you notice that he’s starting to ask questions. Before long, you catch him in the kitchen when you get home, working on a bake of his own. He has a natural proficiency for it and it doesn’t take long before baking is something that you do together.

Lucio

-If you see him in the kitchen, it’s already too late. Some of what you’ve made is already gone. This boy loves his sweets and he couldn’t be more delighted that the person he loves is so good at making them. You start to make extras and employ decoy sweets to keep him from eating the confections meant for clients.

-Your kitchen will be state-of-the-art. If there’s a new technique being used by another patisserie, Lucio will send you there so you can observe other chefs and pick up their expertise. Your yearly vacation always involves sampling the finest of foreign cuisine so you can gather ideas for your own shop.

-Lucio loves to help in the kitchen (mostly because he gets to taste), but despite the chaos he causes he’s actually been the source of some genuinely great ideas - the time he threw an entire pie in with the ice cream you were making turned out to be a huge hit.

#the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana julian #the arcana asra #the arcana lucio #the arcana nadia #the arcana portia #the arcana muriel #the arcana headcanons #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #portia devorak #count lucio #muriel

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clevercatchphrase · 3 years

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2020 Year Review~

2020. Pretty unique year, don’t you think? It’s the first year since 2002 to have only two different digits in it. After 2022, this won’t happen again until 2111. Yep. Absolutely nothing more interesting than that.

Anyway! It’s time I reflect on my 2020, look back on my yearly goals and rant about things that happened to me this year. I made a post like this last year, where I went over my 2019 goals and talked about what I accomplished and what I didn’t, and it’s only fitting I do the same again this year. Read more under the cut for a random stream of consciousness ramble!

So, first things first, let’s look at my 2019 goals;

Finish paying off that last student loan

Put more stuff on my redbubble

Illustrate my own fan fics

Sew at least one stuffed animal

Make an enamel pin

Read one new book a month

Write one page a day/Complete at least one new fan fic

Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make

Finish fully scripting Ghost Switch

Boost my patreon

Paying Off My Last Student Loan: Going down the list, I am proud to say that I FINALLY paid off all my student loans! (and not a moment too soon. The last payment I made was literally days before the first quarantine rolled out). It took me roughly 4 years on my part-time paycheck to pay off all my loans, and once I finished, I had no money to my name (literally; I had less than 1k as emergency money in case of car troubles or health issues). Heck, I’m STILL living at home as a save up for a place of my own. Finally paying off all my student loans DID activate my secret 2020 new year’s resolution, which was to adopt a cat! I did this too, literally a week later! She is the best thing that’s happened to me this entire year and I love her so much and she is the snuggliest cuddle bug I’ve ever met. I’m so happy she’s in my life now~

Put More Stuff On My Redbubble: ah ha ha ha… I thought I did this, but then I went and checked, and it turns out-! I did not. I made art I intended to go on my redbubble, but haven’t put there yet. They are all drawings of some OCs from a game I want to make, but because I haven’t progressed on making the game this year, I never got around to putting more stuff related to it on my redbubble. At the time of writing, there are 7 days left in December, so I guess I could go and put it up on my redbubble right now, but without context on where the characters are from, there wouldn’t be much point, now would there?

Illustrate My Own Fan Fics: Another goal that I was so stoked to actually do… and then just didn’t. Gee, I wonder why I couldn’t find the energy or motivation to do it this year? Truly a conundrum. (Hey, you know what? If Ghost Switch counts as a fan fiction in a visual form, then I am doing GREAT on this goal. 2.5 years in, 1 of ~4 arcs done, and still going steady~)

Sew At Least One Stuffed Animal: Okay, I have a valid excuse for not doing this one. I even knew which stuffed animal I wanted to make, and had the pattern drawn out and everything, but I had no money for materials because I had just paid off my student loans. And then, by the time I did have enough money again, quarantine was in full effect and I couldn’t go out to the fabric store. I’m still trying my best to stay out of public places even if the rules are laxer now, because I don’t want to catch the plague even if everyone in my goddamn city thinks and acts like the problem is over already. Even if they’re all wearing masks, even if they’re staying 6 feet apart, I still don’t want to risk it. I will stay inside until health experts give the all clear, and when that day comes, then I will buy some fleece and make a plush.

Make An Enamel Pin: I ACTUALLY DID THIS ONE. TWICE! Halfway through quarantine, I was feeling anxious and depressed about my job and how they were planning to have me work with the public despite climbing infection rates and positive covid cases. I didn’t quit then, but in a desperate move to try and become self-sufficient, I went to madebycooper and made two enamel pins based on some butterfly dragons I drew last year. They’re on my etsy store now! I even went out of my way to open a P.O. box just to start a small business! I haven’t sold a single pin yet, and I’m actually really nervous to sell my first because I don’t trust the efficiency of the postal system thanks to the actions of the GOP that really screwed them over this year! (If you would like to see my enamel pins, click here!)

Read One Book A Month: I did this! With dragon books I bought a couple years back! In fact, I read FOURTEEN dragon books, and still have more books for next year to read! The 14 books I read this year were:

The Hive Queen

The Poison Jungle

Wings Of Fire Legends: Dragonslayer

Dealing With Dragons

Searching For Dragons

Calling on Dragons

Talking to Dragons

The Bronze Dragon Codex

The Brass Dragon Codex

The Black Dragon Codex

The Red Dragon Codex

The Silver Dragon Codex

Dragon Strike, and

Hatching Magic

To be honest, I had read The Red Dragon Codex years ago when it first came out, but completely forgotten what it was about. I remembered liking it, and I knew the reading level was on the lower side, but the whole dragon codex series was pretty good! So far, the Silver dragon codex was my favorite, and black dragon codex was probably the worst! Hatching Magic was also really slow and bad and had plot points that went nowhere, but the book was written in the 80s, so I don’t know what I expected. The Dealing with Dragons series was very charming and great for the most part, save for one line in the last book that really rubbed me the wrong way, and all the Wings of Fire Books go above and beyond in this third arc. The second legends book could be a little tighter, though (sky and wren are the best duo and I want a book solely about them, but I honest to god do not care about leaf and ivy’s stories.)

Write one Page of any story every day/ complete at least one fic: I… did this? Okay, I kinda cheated near the end of the year. I was keeping up the one page a day thing for the first four months, but then the world went to shit and my schedule and habits got disrupted and I fell off my good track record. I completed 7 out of roughly 12 one-shots I had planned for this year (my goal WAS supposed to be one short a month, but… you know how it happens) I kept trying to catch up on this goal all year, but the days kept piling up…. Until November hit. I managed to write over 250 pages for Nanowrimo, and I consider this goal a win. 365 pages of fiction in total, which averages out to about one a day~. SHUT UP IT COUNTS.

Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make: Another goal I didn’t have the mental energy to commit to this year. Truly a mystery to where all our willpower went in 2020.

Fully Finish Scripting Ghost Switch: still haven’t done this one yet! The Snowdin arc is completely planned, but I just haven’t gotten around to getting the other areas. I’m not worried, though. I know all the major plot points I gotta hit, it’s just weaving them together in a way that flows nice is the final task. I’m not too worried though. I don’t expect to finish the Snowdin arc for another year and a half, at the bare minimum.

And my last goal of 2020, Boost My Patreon. I did this at the beginning of the year, but then very intentionally stopped about a third of the way through. It didn’t sit right with me to tell you guys to donate to me when suddenly EVERYONE was financially strained from layoffs or being furloughed. I told my patrons the same, and if you ever need to stop donating to me to take care of yourself first, then by all means, please do. I would feel much better knowing you’re using your money to see yourself fed and housed instead of given to me (where it is pretty much only used to buy gas for my car, honestly)

Welp! That was all my goals for 2020! I achieved 4 out of 10 goals plus 1 secret goal! Pretty much the same ratio as last year, but now this time I can blame all my failures on the pandemic! I don’t feel so bad about myself anymore~

ON TO 2021!

I have 11 goals for the new year, again some rolled over from this list, and some from even older years. They are, in no particular order;

Read 12 new books (roughly 1 book a month)

Finish the first draft of 2019’s Nanowrimo project and rewrite it

Script TDV

Finish Scripting Ghost Switch

Build A Comic Buffer

Sew 1 Stuffed Animal

Finish 1 Song Comic

Make another Enamel Pin

Finish 2 short original comics (this one counts as 2 goals)

Finish the 5 remaining one-shot fics

Now to go into depth on each one, more for my own sake, really. I want to know exactly what I have planned for each goal this year, and sometimes just looking at a short list doesn’t capture all the smaller details.

1)Read 12 new books. Same as last year! I The only difference is I might not be able to make it all dragon-related books. (I try my hardest not to buy from amazon anymore, but half-price-books doesn’t always have the obscure stuff I’m looking for)

2)Finish 2019’s nanowrimo project. If you read my 2019 year reflection, you’ll notice I said I wanted to do some original writing. And I did! The story I wrote for nanowrimo back then was a story I’ve been toying with since 2017, but it was only last year I finally got pen to paper. Now, you may find it odd that the keyword says “finish”. You may think, “but isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for nanowrimo?” and to that I say, WRONG! I wrote 50k words for nanowrimo, but the draft was only about halfway complete. I was kinda discouraged about what I had written last year, because I didn’t like how it was coming out, but I did manage to get it half done. Now it’s time for me to bite the bullet and just finish the thing so I can finally revise it and make it into something I DO like. (It’s still gonna be hella long, tho. That’s what I get for trying to write an epic fantasy, I guess.)

3)Script TDV. TDV is the abbreviation of the game I want to make. I… still need to do so much for this project OTL… In addition to getting the story solidified, I still need to draw art and game assets, and learn how to code for it, both of which are no small task. I keep having some sort of new year’s goal related to this on my list, and every year I just don’t hit this one. Will 2021 be different?

4)Finish Scripting Ghost Switch. (Or at the very least, get the waterfall arc completely written out). I have a plan to break this down into simpler steps, by focusing on just one arc for a month or two. Every major arc has 2 to 3 parts, broken up by flashbacks, and if I can just finish one section a month, then I should have the entire thing scripted by the end of the year. It’s not a difficult pace, but seeing if I stick with it will be the real challenge, as it is will all my goals it seems.

5)Build a Comic Buffer: I’m actually working on this one right now! Since I paid off my last loan and got a new job this year, my current Patreon goals are kind of out of date. They had all been centered around me paying off that last loan, and working towards full-time employment, but those are both completed now! So instead, I would love to get to a place where my patrons could read pages at least a week ahead, and to do that, I need to build a buffer. And since I’m working 5 full days a week now, I can’t afford to fall behind. But you can’t fall behind if you constantly stay ahead! I would like to have… a 10 to 12 page buffer. That’s roughly 3 months’ worth of pages to always have on hand in case I get swamped with work, or something. Right now I currently have a buffer of 3, which will cover me for half a January, which is better than not having anything at all, but still not the best. (ultimately, I would love to have a buffer so big, I could queue them up for the whole year. Wouldn’t that be something?)

6) Sew one stuffed animal: same as last year. ASSUMING the plague gets under control in 2021, I don’t expect to get to this goal until the summer at the earliest.

7)Finish 1 song comic: I have 7 song comics planned. One is a gift, one possibly for wandersong, one is a collab that’s currently in the works, but I’m waiting on a friend to do their part before I can continue mine, 2 are UT related, and 2 (well, technically 3, but one is the collab) are KH related. It’s one of the UT ones that will probably get finished, if I’m being honest. It’s completely story boarded, and now I just need to ink and color it. I would like to get it done for UT’s 6th birthday, since I made a song comic on the fly for the anniversary this year, and it was fun, and I’d like to do it again! So, look forward to that next september~

8) Make another enamel pin: I have a dolphin design I’d like to make because dolphins are cute, if not little murder machines. (need to save up some expendable income first, tho. THESE THINGS AIN’T CHEAP TO MAKE.)

9 and 10) start and finish 2 original short comics: I’ve got some comic ideas I want to do, but I need to get them written out first. I don’t think either would be too long. Each maybe a couple “episode’s” length, if envisioned on a website like webtoons or tapas. They’d both be heavy in allegory, but not overly drawn out (hopefully)

11)And lastly, Finish the 5 remaining one-shots I had planned for this year but never got around to. I’m going to try to write one every other month. Pure self-indulgent shipping fluff. If I finish these 5, then maybe I’ll ask other people for more prompts and ideas, which I’ve never done before. We’ll see how it goes~

Also, Like last year, I’d like to look at everything that’s happened to me this year, though to be honest, I’m not sure how much I remember/how accurate it’ll be. God, I don’t even remember what January was like. Who was I back then? Who were we all back then? I guess I’ll start my yearly retrospective in march because, heh, god we ALL know what started happening in march.

Firstly, I paid off my last student loan! Then a week later on March 18th, I drove half an hour out of my city to adopt a cat and I love her and it was the best day of this year for me. Spring break is just beginning this weekend, but the attendance at the zoo is shockingly low this year. Apparently, a lot of people watch the news, and they’re all taking precautions about social distancing. I wasn’t too disappointed. Fewer people at the zoo, the easier my job is for me. I was looking forward to getting some free overtime on spring break, since I’m broke after paying off that loan, and I’m a cat parent now and have a furry child to feed. Monday rolls around. My manager calls me and tells me that the zoo is going into lockdown until further notice. I worry for the birds I take care of, but understand it’s for everyone’s safety.

For two months I sleep in and watch way too much YouTube. I join a couple writing discords. I have nightmares about my birds escaping their enclosure and I dreamed one of the security guards I really like at the zoo gets covid and has to go to the ER. I woke up really upset.

I started and finished BBS for the first time. I also replayed and finished KH2 final mix for the first time. It had been about 5 years since I last played KH2 before my PS2 died, and it was like coming home~ I also finished tearaway, and played and beat Ryme for a second time (which I can’t remember if I did that last year, but it was a fun experience regardless)

Mid-June, and I’m allowed to start going back to work, be it on reduced hours. The zoo is still closed to the public, but I’m loving it! I get to work with full-time keepers and do full-time keeper things. It’s so much fun not having to deal with the public. August starts to creep up and there’s a rumor that the zoo will be opening to the public again, which I’m not stoked about. I don’t want to go back to standing in one exhibit all day, talking to guests who don’t listen to the rules or to me. 2 of my younger coworkers (who had both only been there a couple of months) get chosen for full-time positions, while I get passed up which really pisses me off. My other 2 coworkers quit when they think we might be reopening because they cannot risk catching the virus due to at-risk family. I am now the last keeper in the interactive bird exhibit.

I keep working, the zoo slowly opens, but with me as the only interpreter in our interactive bird exhibit, we can’t open because I can’t run the entire exhibit by myself. So my exhibit stays closed. September comes and goes, and then October starts. Now there is more serious talk of opening my exhibit before the end of the year because the zoo expects to bring in larger crowds for the Christmas lights event in November/December. I ask if I get hazard pay or health insurance since I’m doing full-time hours until they hire more staff. They say no.

I immediately start searching for a new job feeling incredibly indignant/hurt/slighted/insulted/used/abused/ALL the negative feelings at my job. I had been there for 4 years, but never got a chance to work full time, while the two newest hires who had only been there 2 months both got moved up. I can’t help but feel they were holding one mistake I made two years ago against me and never wanted to give me a chance. (that, or they knew I was reliable when it came to showing up for work in such a volatile position that sees a lot of new faces, and they didn’t want to bother going through the process of hiring someone new) I don’t want to risk my life working around guests who don’t wash their hands and don’t properly distance. I don’t want to gamble with my health when they won’t offer me health insurance because I’m part time.

Mid October, I get an interview for a full time job and get hired on the spot. I peace out at the zoo 2 weeks later, literally 3 days before they planned to open my exhibit to the public. It was a close call for me to escape before they opened to the public (and pettiness was only partially the reason I dipped out so close to opening). Sorry new hires who are now in charge of the bird feeding exhibit. I taught you the best I could in the short time I had. If the managers are struggling with what to do with one less person, I can’t say I feel bad. I can only hope they delayed opening/closed you down again for your own safety. You are not lightbulbs. I really hope the higher ups stop considering you as replaceable as one. Will I go back to the zoo to visit? Probably. But not for a year at least.

I started my new job the very next day after I quit the zoo, and have been there ever since, (which isn’t that long yet, tbh. Christmas day was my 2 month anniversary). It’s full time, but it’s also a small business, and everyone’s hours this year have been on the short side due to the plague. I understand, though. They don’t want us to work if they can’t afford to pay us. Everyone is nice enough, though some people smoke and it’s hard to avoid them with how frequently we have to go in and out, and I really don’t want to get lung cancer, sorry not sorry, please and thank you. Also, with such a small team, gossip is certainly harder to go undetected, so it’s a relief knowing people don’t talk behind one another’s backs.

I participated and beat my 4th nanowrimo in a row, I made TWO apple crisps on thanksgiving, and made baklava on Christmas and both of these recipes were my first time making them, and they both came out adequately! I voted the first day of early voting, and I did an art trade/collab with two of my friends for my birthday! (normally we would have done monthly “art days” where we get together and do art projects for fun because we’re adults and we can spend our time together however we want, but the plague said otherwise this year) We drew pokemon and it was fun! (hopefully I can show you all the results soon. At the time of writing, I’m still waiting for the last two colored parts to get back to me)

I reached 100 pages on my undertale comic, and finish the first arc out of…! (im not sure. It’s either going to be 4 or 5, I haven’t decided yet)

Over all, I managed to stay healthy as far as I know. I wasn’t as productive as I wanted to be this year, but then again, who was? (don’t answer that. I don’t need that kind of comparison in my life right now)

Will 2021be any better? Honestly? I don’t think so. Not right away, at least. Just because a new year is about to start does not mean the slate is completely wiped clean. The change of the calendar year doesn’t magically make all our current problems disappear. Covid will still be here and cases will still climb when January starts. Small business will still be strained when the month rolls over, police will still go on murdering innocent civilians and getting away scot free, amazon and disney will still be monopolizing all consumer goods and media, and I can’t help but feel like there’s an impending shit show about to go down on inauguration day. I do hope things will get better, though. It’ll be arduous and unpleasant, but I do hope things will improve, because sometimes hoping is all you can do.

Good night.

#long post #new year's resolutions #year review #year retrospective

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min-meowmeow · 4 years

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The Fairy Shirt

History Teacher Taehyung x English Teacher Reader

Fluff/Angst if you squint

Word Count: 9,514

Synopsis: Taehyung has been a massive flirt for as long as you've known him, but what happens when he finally drops the facade?

Reader is mad thirsty for Kim Taehyung and will deny it for the rest of their life.

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"I don't understand," Taehyung muttered through a disgruntled swipe of his hand through the blue cardigan adorning his chest, "how students get glitter on everything!" He switched hands, left taking over for right while right fumbled under the sticky grip of the sparkly decoration. "We haven't even used glitter!"

You scraped the contents of your T.V. dinner —now turned lunch— into your awaiting mouth that then pressed into an unsatisfied frown. "They're fifth graders. Their blood is made of glitter."

"Well can they keep it to themselves." He rubbed exasperatedly against his sweater and yet, somehow, only more glitter stuck. The contained screech was just barely silenced by the grit of his perfectly white teeth.

The only other teacher in the lounge, Mrs. Lee, peered over the district's newly issued community magazine with a sour pout directed at the irritated 5th grade History teacher, but if Taehyung knew, he didn't particularly care. Her eyes followed him until his sullen figure fell into the 80s deco couch positioned just behind the small break room table you had taken residence in when the glorious lunchtime bell had rung not fifteen minutes ago. She only dropped her gaze when he dropped his head along the back of the couch, face disgruntled and glasses askew.

"This is the third sweater this week," he grumbled.

You peered over your shoulder to find the despondent man pathetically pouting with eyes delicately closed against the filtering of the sun through the turn of the century blinds covering the windows. A shimmer fluttered along the blue of his sweater with every breath that passed through his ridiculously sturdy chest while the scent of barely contained crayon wafted from the dredges of his clothing masking his usual scent of pine and coffee. “Did you, by chance, have Katie color anything today with her glitter crayons?”

One sullen eye popped open.

“Goddamnit, Katie,” he cursed.

Mrs. Lee’s head popped up again from her magazine, glare placed just above the rim of her glasses absolutely piercing into Taehyung who continued to ignore her. You, however, did catch her stare and decided to intervene before she tore through his precious blue sweater. Nonchalantly, you rose from your chair and dumped your leftover tray into the nearby trash bin before returning to extend a hand towards Taehyung.

“Come on, I have a lint roller in my room,” you offered in place of an explanation for your outstretched hand.

He eyed it then eyed you suspiciously, but not really. Taehyung had been glued to your side as diligently as unwanted glitter since the day you both started at the elementary school, so you knew any cantankerous reactions from him were simply for show. The gentle way his fingers delicately, almost fragile, wrapped around the expanse of your wrist proved this to be fact. It also accelerated your heart stupidly fast as if you were one of those love-struck kids you often shook your head at when they passed notes between them in class, but that was neither here nor there.

You pulled him to a stand and begrudgingly released your hold from around his skin before Mrs. Lee caught you lingering. Tae said nothing, rather simply proceeded to follow you out of the lounge where Mrs. Lee sighed loudly. Tae’s chuckle quickly drowned her out.

“She hates me,” he grinned beside you.

“She hates anyone who wasn’t alive when the dinosaurs roamed,” you quipped in return.

A loud chortle was this time forced from the confines of Taehyung’s chest that startled you only enough to jump slightly. Thankfully, no one else occupied the hallways that led back to your adjoining classrooms, the fifth grade hall empty save for the two of you and one stray janitor, so you were the only one surprised by his outburst.

You turned to him and caught his own cheerful gaze peering ahead, no sign of the annoyed man you had rescued from being told off by Mrs. Lee.

“Was it that funny?” you questioned.

He chuckled lowly this time, his lips pulled into an amused boxy smile. “Tyrannosaurus Lee.”

Your classroom door swung open easily when your key slid into the ancient lock revealing a mess of literature posters that you thought were hilarious, but your students begged to differ. Taehyung released a whistle of surprise at the bags of paper mache flowers and butterflies lying around your classroom in messy bundles of Spring Festival preparations. You ignored it all, stepping over a large flower stem your students were still in the process of finishing. Taehyung followed you inside but side-stepped over the decorations before stopping at your desk when you reached it with a sigh.

“I never get tired of seeing Shakespeare in MC Hammer pants,” he joked with a point behind you where the bard sat laminated in poster form.

“It’s what he would have wanted.”

A low mumble of affirmation followed Tae as he turned to peer across your vacant yet messy classroom while you began the search for the lint roller in the most logical place: your purse. Pushing aside your make-up bag, your wallet, a year old granola bar, and other miscellaneous snacks, you returned nothing in the way of a bright blue lint roller. Your nose scrunched at the center, mouth pulling in a sour pout.

“Please tell me you didn’t pay for all of this yourself?” Tae’s voice came as a distraction pulling your attention to where he stood next to the largest bag filled with miscellaneous spring bugs. His expression matched your disgruntled one.

You gave a deep sigh with a roll of your eyes. “Yep.”

“Why?”

“There wasn’t room in the budget this year for the Spring Festival, so we had to make due if we wanted to keep it,” you explained, turning to dig through your messy drawers for the sought after lint roller.

He made a weird, confused noise from across the room. “I thought parents were donating?”

“Wasn’t enough for decorations.” You closed one drawer a little harder than you intended before opening another. “We tried asking Principal Do for a little money, but he wouldn't budge. Said it wasn't a priority.”

Taehyung released a bitter laugh, knowing exactly what you meant. Every excuse you had both received from the administration had something to do with the fabled budget. There was never enough money to replace Taehyung's ancient and faulty overhead projector, but Mr. Won down the hall could get a brand new smart board for his Math class that he never uses. You had to carry the burden of your school’s yearly Spring Festival while the boy’s basketball team could have an end of the year party on the school’s dime. You were almost certain “the budget” was code for “go fuck yourself.”

“Ah, here it is!” You called triumphantly with the blue handle tucked securely in between your fingers.

Tae smiled gratefully as you extended it to him, taking it gingerly in his hand. He struggled a little bit in between rolls of the sticky substance along the fabric of his sweater, especially when he had to rip off a new clean sheet to pick up the remaining specks of glitter, but by the time Tae was done, he looked as clean as ever.

A sigh fluttered out from his rosy lips, expression at ease. “What would I do without you?”

“Walk around all day looking like a fairy,” you snorted.

“I’d accept looking like a fairy if I could commit to the aesthetic, but this,” he waved his hands over the cardigan once more, “ this is not suitable.”

“That may not be, but I’ve seen the majority of your wardrobe. You definitely have pieces in there that’ll work.”

He dropped the lint roller back on your desk. “Any suggestions?”

Your gaze held his in contempt with an unamused frown pulling the corners of your lips low. Tae, on the other hand, beamed at you with a trickster’s glint in his brown eyes. “That white button up with the green collar”

“The one with the flowers and butterflies?”

“That’s the one.”

“How is that appropriate for fairies?”

“Throw some glitter on there, you’ll be golden.”

“Nice to know you think about my clothes often.” He tilted his head to one side, brush of bangs sweeping across his tan forehead to deliver the most sultry stare you had ever received from him.

You grabbed the lint roller off your desk, twisting the handle under fidgeting hands. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

Taehyung leaned against your desk, hip pressed to the edge drawing your attention to the sly slant of his grin. His eyes softened around the edges when your gaze held strong with his. “Do you need help with the Spring Festival?”

“It’s almost done.” You shrugged.

“At least let me help set up, then.”

You tapped your foot against the edge of your desk opposite of Taehyung, your mouth twisted to one side in thought. On the one hand, you were touched that he offered to help when he didn’t have to, but on the other, you didn’t want to burden him with a project he didn’t sign up for just because you wanted an extra hand and maybe some eye candy to get through the grueling afternoon set up. Besides, you knew you wouldn’t be the only one ogling the vivacious redhead.

“You’ll just distract the PTA moms.”

The roll of his eyes was almost audible.

“Don’t avoid this by making jokes,” he whined, “That’s my job.”

“It’s fine.” You spun your swivel chair in a circle until it came to a stop facing him.

“If you deny me, I’ll stay anyway and really distract the PTA moms.”

“Why?” It was your turn to whine.

Taehyung gave you a chuckle. “So at least you’ll have someone to walk you to your car at night.”

A heat began to rise on the tips of your ears with the stutter of your heart at his words. Taehyung was an incredible flirt, but sometimes, when he dropped the flirtatious exterior and became genuine— even thoughtful—with you, it was just too much for your poor little heart. You felt that he sometimes acted that way to disarm you, perplex you, because he found it funny to see you stutter at his words or blush furiously at his small touches. At times you wished he would stop, but the majority of the time you wished he would go further than simple touches or the tame offer of walking you to your car.

“Teacher Kim? What’re you doing in here?” Ten year old confusion startled the both of you to turn to the door where you found a student you both dealt with standing just outside the threshold of your classroom. She peered at the two of you, a small crease appearing under her straight bangs that dangled over her suspicious gaze.

“Talking about fairies,” Taehyung winked conspiratorially at you.

The ring of the bell tore your gaze from Taehyung back to the entrance of your classroom. Vivi, to her credit, looked as confused as you suspected anyone would, but she simply shrugged and proceeded to her seat. A chorus of excited voices proceeding down the hall finally forced Tae to give you one last smile before exiting the room with another deliciously delivered “thank you.”

---------

Pastel colored streamers already dangled from constructed booths and systematically placed tables around the fake wood floor that creaked beneath your feet as you entered the school gymnasium with a huge chunk of wood balanced precariously along your toes. A small speaker somewhere among the mess played some generic pop song through the echoing walls, all of the committee members along with volunteers sorting and hanging the decorations that had been made by numerous classrooms and students. Your eyes scanned over the mess, a slippery anxiety slowly crawling it’s way up your esophagus.

You hated being on the Festival committee.

“Why is paper mache so heavy?” Taehyung complained from beside you, the three large bags of the decorations trailed behind him along with the legs of a step stool latched onto his shoulder until he came to a stop at your side, exhausted exhale passing through plump lips.

“I think it’s the glue,” you muttered.

He hummed as his eyes gave a cursory glance around the crowded floor with an indifferent expression. However, you could see that a lot more eyes were on you now that he stood beside you, a lot of thirsty, hungry eyes that were devouring him where he stood. Like with Mrs. Lee, you knew he was ignoring it, but you couldn’t.

“Come on, you’re already distracting them,” you grumbled, leading Taehyung away from the door to a small corner of the gym where no decorations lay.

At your last meeting, you had divided up the gym into game sections where everyone from the committee would set up their game and help run it during the event. You had gotten the bug toss, a run of the mill carnival ball toss game where participants had five chances to stack up as many points as they could by throwing a bug shaped ball into five openings on a board painted to look like a grassy field with a ladybug on the side. Your third period class had happily painted the board instead of learning the thrilling parts of speech, but you got to torture them with it another day anyway, so it didn’t really matter to you.

You propped the board up against the wall in a huff, your arms not long enough to properly carry such a large piece of wood, but you had been damned to let Taehyung do all of the heavy lifting. He had offered, oh how he offered, to carry literally everything from your room and had almost succeeded had it not been for his own hubris and a rather comical arm cramp. That’s when you had won and were allowed to carry at least one thing. You were sure he assumed you’d go for one of the bags, but you decided to challenge him instead. Your arms hated you for it, but your pride gloated.

He dropped the bags next to you then stood back to look over everything now on the floor. It was going to be a long afternoon.

“Where do we start, boss?” he asked, hands already ripping open the bag closest to him with glee.

You opted to open another bag, the one with the giant flowers and fake grass, and shrugged. “We just gotta make it look nice. Coherent.”

“Can do,” he grumbled.

Pulling out the paper grass first, you laid it out on the floor in a heap of pieces before taking a seat facing the wall where you were planning on taping them. The pieces were numbered, something your second period class had decided to do since the color of grass apparently went in a sequence of dark green to slightly lighter green, but you didn’t complain once you started sorting it. You found it odd how meticulous they had been, their pride exuding from their little faces when they approached you with the pile of colored paper. At least they had something to be proud of, you thought, as you began taping section by section along the glossy paint of the gym wall.

You noticed Taehyung take his position on the other side of the board with bug cut outs in hand, but no tape. You hadn’t thought far enough to grab two rolls of the gorilla tape, so you slid your only one over to him until it hit his foot quietly. He looked down, a goofy smile appearing across his face as he went to pick it up.

“We’ll have to go get more eventually,” he remarked as he ripped off pieces of the sticky fastener, alternating between sticking one piece of it on the board by his side then handing another piece for you to use.

You flattened your hand along the newly secured blades. “We’ll deal with that when we run out.”

Taehyung hummed, one vibrantly colored butterfly being pressed into the wall with the help of four pieces of tape. You both worked in quiet unity as you dealt with the lower section while Taehyung went for the higher stuff. You had to admit, it was rather peaceful having Taehyung with you, his presence making you feel less overwhelmed than you would have been had he not insisted on helping you.

As you worked, you continuously stole glances up at him as he moved back and forth between the bag of decorations and the wall. He had changed into sweats and a plain black t-shirt after the last of your wonderful students had left the building, the blue cardigan from earlier discarded into a gym bag he kept in his car for his work out days.

The shirt was loose, but hung over his frame so exquisitely that you could make out the working muscles in his back, the bulge of his biceps when he raised a paper mache lady bug up to the wall, and every once in a while, the dip of his collar bones when he bent down to retrieve more decorations. His sweats, while laced at his hips, showcased the curve of his ass so much better than any of the other pants he owned. You suddenly could really relate with those sexually repressed PTA moms.

“Like the view?” Taehyung asked without turning to you, but his voice was enough to snap you out of your reverie.

You turned back down to your work, hands securing an already secure piece of grass. “I’m just checking to make sure you’re doing it right.”

“Right.” Taehyung nodded, unconvinced. “Or maybe you’re cataloging this outfit since you’ve never seen it before, you know, because you always ignore my invitations to work out with me.”

You pushed yourself to stand once the final piece of grass was on your side of the wall. Next was going past the board and over to Taehyung’s side. “The only exercise I do is chasing my cat when he tries to steal student homework.”

You eyed the area by his legs, understanding that if he continued to work on the same side, you would end up being pressed between him and the wall. You decided to brush him away instead, ensuring that he was a few feet behind you before plopping back down on the floor.

“Your cat eats their homework?”

You pulled a few pieces of grass towards you. “I’ve had to write a few apology notes to parents.”

“That must have gone over well.”

“My cat’s an asshole.”

Taehyung crouched down next to you, the remaining pieces of grass firmly held in his palm along with all of the tape you had saved for the job. You gave him a confused pout that made him laugh, his body so astronomically close you could feel the vibrations from the action. “I can do these. Start putting up decorations on your side of the wall.”

Your pout revealed itself unallowed, but you pushed yourself to stand even if it was just to give yourself some space from the gorgeous man. He immediately took the seat you vacated with a grin and a wink up to you. Chills found their way up your spine as they often did when Tae looked at you like that and you found yourself cowering in awkward attention. “Th...the colors are numbered. Students made sure of it.”

The cocky grin fell to an endeared smile. “I know, fairy.”

If you turned any redder, you were sure you would wind up looking like the streamers adorning the first grade booth in the corner of the gym.

Your mouth set into a thin line that you attempted to turn into a smile, but thankfully Tae only winked and turned down to the task at hand instead of saying anything else. Without his attention, you felt it a little easier to breathe.

Focusing on your own task, you began dragging out the large flowers and bug cut outs left in the plastic bag you had chosen as yours. Your students had the most fun making the flowers, especially when it came to construct the paper mache stem to attach to the large flower heads they made out of many, many pieces of construction paper. More than a few of them had stuck the gooey pieces of newspaper to their friends instead of the flowers, but no injuries were incurred so you didn’t really care that much as long as it got done.

You settled the step stool firmly against the wall with one hand occupied with a bundle of cut out bugs. You then grabbed the tape and climbed up until you stood higher than the edge of the board settled between you and Taehyung. Your gaze fell down to him for half a second and that's when you noticed not so subtly that you stood at the perfect vantage point to gaze down Taehyung’s loose shirt like a pervy gawker at a Hooters. Cheeks sparked in rosy flames just in time for you to turn away before he noticed your reaction to the skin visible past the neckline of his shirt. It was his choice to wear such a loose shirt, you justified, unable to stop your mind from wondering what lay just beneath the dip of his collarbones.

Butterflies soared in your stomach along with shame at the mental image your mind produced for you. Obviously, you thought Taehyung was handsome and, obviously, you had maybe fantasized about him once or twice, but you couldn't understand why you were so thirsty for him now of all days. Maybe the slimy energy from the PTA moms was rubbing off on you.

Shaking your head of the thought, focus and attention turned back to the bug cut outs you were supposed to be taping to the wall. Quietly you cut off three pieces of tape then let the core slide down your arm until it settled against your elbow. Your fingers tentatively stuck two bugs haphazardly along the wall to give the appearance that they were flying with the other remaining cut outs flattened in the press of your thighs.

"Think I could get some more tape?" Taehyung pulled your attention from your work to find him with a hand extended up towards you.

You were dazzled for a minute by the look of his deep, brown eyes gazing up at you expectantly, but you quickly came back to your senses when he began to get up.

“Yeah sorry. Here--”

The heel of your right foot met air on your way off the step-stool finding you toppling backwards unexpectedly. Your heart shot up into your throat as the same step stool screeched against the polished wood and you didn’t even have a chance to try to save yourself by the time you met a softer surface than the floor. One that smelled suspiciously like pine needles and coffee.

Eyes grew wide when you realized who you were pressed against just in time for him to settle you on your own two feet, then turning you to face a very concerned expression on Taehyung's face.

“Are you ok?” he questioned, hands roaming over your arms, waist, and back in search of an injury.

The sensation of his hands on you jarred you enough to brush him off. “I’m fine.”

He ignored your complaints, instead holding your head firmly between his two palms, his bright brown eyes boring holes into your own through the sheen of his round glasses. You were so enthralled with his intense gaze, you didn’t notice his fingers until they flicked you across the forehead. “Watch where you step next time.”

Your response came in a grumbled “ow” that he only caught because he was still ridiculously close to you, but that was fixed when you pushed him away in retaliation, panicked eyes looking for the roll of sticky substance he had wanted only to find it a slight distance away.

“Can you help me get the tape? Please?”

He only shook his head, his hands brushing over your hair one more time before his footsteps squeaked their way along the wood floor to retrieve what you had accidentally dropped. You inhaled as many gulps of air as you could, heart jack hammering away in your frantic chest.

Taehyung returned a moment later, hand offering the roll of treacherous tape. “Here. I---”

“Mr. Kim? What’re you doing here?”

Both you and Taehyung turned to find the expensively beautiful mom of glitter enthusiast Katie Benton standing with hands perched on her hips and a Pan Am smile on her red painted lips.

Taehyung scratched the back of his neck. “Just helping out, Mrs. Benton”

“Oh, wonderful! If you don’t mind, I can’t seem to reach high enough to place this hook. Can you help me?” she asked with a perky grin.

“Sure thing." He nodded then turned to you, the roll of tape being tossed to your unexpected form. “I’ll be right back.”

You began scratching at the loose piece of tape, eyes focused heavily on his too charming smile. “Distraction.”

You watched him walk away with one last wink in your direction before he was engulfed by a throng of overly peppy suburban moms. They crowded around him like bottom feeders to a carcass laughing and placing perfectly manicured hands all over his shoulders and arms. Taehyung, for his part, mostly laughed as she strategically shrugged off one claw for another, but he never told them no. You believed he secretly liked it and no matter how much he denied it, and you were certain you would never believe otherwise.

Turning back to the pile of paper bugs and plants strewn around your feet, you gave a hefty huff of breath through your parted lips suddenly finding the work just a bit overwhelming without Taehyung by your side, but you knew it had to get done. You grumbled once more after Mrs. Benton and her hoard of middle aged Desperate Housewives before tucking in your resolve and getting to work.

--------

You couldn’t say you were particularly proud of the way your booth turned out—paper bugs unevenly placed on the wall, board propped up against two buckets filled with miscellaneous gym supplies, flowers crumpled and one halfway broken from your inability to stop them from falling—but given the lack of help and your overly exhausted body, it would have to make due.

Taehyung never returned to your booth after he got whisked away by Mrs. Benton, the poor man being passed around to many different booths depending on the lie the moms told to get him there. You watched it happen between your own tasks, begrudgingly muttering under your breath how nice it must be to be rich and shameless. However, you hadn't taken a look in quite a while and you weren't entirely sure if Taehyung was even still around. The thought hurt your heart a little bit, mostly because he had offered to walk you to your car at the end of the night, but you figured it was for the best.

After cleaning up your area as best you could, you wiped sweat and residue from the paper mache off on your already dirtied jeans glad that you would now be able to go home. Sweat dribbled it's way from your hairline as you gathered your things and you went to wipe it off when you turned and found Taehyung sauntering over to you. You would be lying if you said your heart didn't skip many beats, but you sure as hell wouldn't admit it, either.

"Finished already?" He asked and you only nodded, tucking the strap of your satchel bag across your chest. He threw a sturdy arm around your shoulders in response. "Let's get out of here, then. I'm tired of being their mule."

You laughed despite yourself, already making your way to the entrance of the gym. "You can be an ass sometimes."

"Are you saying that because I abandoned you?"

"Maybe."

"I'll make it up to you, fairy," he muttered. Unsure if you were supposed to respond, you ignored the statement.

Walking together through the gym and out into the almost empty parking lot was a quiet affair that found neither of you really wanting to break the silence. Tae still had his arm around you, the weight of it more comforting than you would care to admit, and you found yourself wishing it could stay wrapped around you forever.

You could imagine how secure you would feel lying under his arm at night snuggled deep into the blankets with Taehyung slotted behind you. His body perfectly fit against yours like two puzzle pieces meant to lay side by side with the delectable smell of his cologne mixed with the scent that was so undeniably Taehyung enveloping you. You could almost imagine how that warmth could change to a searing heat as he held himself above you, his same arms caging you in between his body and the mattress beneath you.

The thought of being pressed against his naked skin came so quickly that it clashed with the real reality you faced making you want to squirm away from him, unsure why the image of you two together was suddenly rearing its ugly head when you had never let your emotions get the better of you around Taehyung. He wasn’t really doing anything different, either. Maybe you were hormonal.

Your cars came into view at the end of the third row with your smaller silver Kia looking down right pathetic next to Tae’s bulky red camaro. You had joked once that it looked like a husky pitbull revving and rolling down the asphalt every morning at 7:30 AM. He didn’t appreciate it, but you got a good laugh out of it, so you considered the joke a win.

Tae’s arm fell from your shoulder when you stopped next to your car, shimmering flecks of multicolored dots glinting off his clothes and hair from the street lamp high above you. You smiled stupidly to yourself, hand unconsciously brushing away at the annoying craft supply. “You’re full of glitter again”

Tae gave one disgruntled look down, heavy sigh puffing against your face. “Seems Mrs. Benton likes it as much as her daughter.”

You leaned away from him to press your back against your driver’s side door. “She also seems to like you quite a bit, too.”

“Gross.” His nose scrunched in the middle. “She’s married.”

“That’s not stopping her.”

“Well, she can’t have me. I’m not that kind of man.”

“That you’re not,” you grumbled, tense fingers digging into the taut muscles of your shoulder as you gave the stiff joint a roll.

Taehyung’s head tilted, confused crinkle tucking his eyebrows closer together under the fringe of bangs. Soft hands ran up and down the length of your arms, sympathetic gaze and hushed baritone voice calling you to meet his eyes. “You ok?”

“Yeah, just a long day.” Your heart stuttered.

“I’m sorry.” He frowned, only to wipe it off with one of his best cocky grins. “Hopefully I made it a little more tolerable?”

Your eyes rolled halfway to the back of their sockets.

“Yes, Taehyung, your immense help this afternoon was great.”

“I said I’m sorry!” He whined.

“I’m kidding.” You grumbled, dropping your gaze from him to stare at your awkwardly shifting feet beneath you. “It was nice having you there. Being on committees like that freak me out. It was nice not dealing with all of that nonsense by myself.”

Fingers pressed under the dip of your chin forcing your eyes back to his and you noticed that he wore a soft expression again. The change in his temperament nearly gave you whiplash this time around, but his deliciously sweet smile pulled you right into him despite the dizzy feeling overtaking you.

“Well, I’m always of service. You know that. Just ask.”

You fought the blush, but felt it rising onto your cheeks nonetheless. “Thanks, Tae.”

His fingers kept a grip on your chin absolutely refusing to let you look down or away again. Your body jittered under the glow of the parking lot's hazy light with every pass of Taehyung’s brown eyes over your facial features, focus diligent as if he were trying to find a glitch in your code that would make you disappear as soon as he discovered it. Lungs felt tight making it almost difficult to breathe, but you didn’t move. You didn’t even try to look away.

A fond grin spread over the stretch of his lips as his hands moved to encompass your cheeks comfortably between his large palms. Eyes flashed down to your lips quickly startling your lungs to a near halt. He began leaning closer, hope spiraled and warred with dread in your bloodstream.

Then gently, his eyes dusted closed just as the plush of his lips warmed the space on the edge of your lips far enough to be mistaken for a peck on the cheek but close enough to prove that wasn't the case. Your hands balled into fists, unsure if your natural instinct was to push him away or pull him closer. You settled on neither, keeping your hands, instead, close against your sides as your mind reeled.

Shocked wouldn’t even begin to cover what you felt as Taehyung pulled away leaving the sensation of his satin lips pressed into the edge of your lips. Elated, yes; blindsided , most definitely, but above all else, you felt confused. Confused because Tae had never exhibited any form of physical touch before. At least not of the kissing variety. And it made you panic. Your face must have worn your feelings plain as day, because once Taehyung opened his eyes once more, the satiated expression disappeared leaving uncertainty in its wake.

“I---” he began, but you quickly brushed his hands off of you and turned your head to look anywhere that wasn’t at him.

“Don’t worry about it. Those PTA moms must have gotten you really riled up.”

“That’s not---”

“I’m gonna head out, Tae.” You pulled open your car door with more force than you intended, propelling your body into the seat before he could stop you. “See you tomorrow?”

He stood there dumbfounded, andalusite eyes the size of the moon on his masculine face. He stuttered a few times before settling his anxious mouth down into a defeated pout. “Yeah, see you tomorrow. Drive safe.”

You hummed in response and pulled the door away from him effectively locking you inside the safety of your moderately dirty Kia. He waved you off once you pulled away and you sped away from that parking lot as fast as you could, desperate to get home and bury the events of the night deep in your subconscious until you couldn’t reach them.

------------

You usually refrained from drinking a glass of wine on school nights, much less three, but the heat you still felt from your interactions with Taehyung today left you exhausted. Your mind felt numb along the edges while your vision remained only a little fuzzy. The ludicrously narrated nature documentary that played on your TV garnered a half-hearted chuckle from you every time the whiny man complained to his TV producer, but you weren't sure whether you actually found it funny because of the alcohol or just clever. If you suddenly blacked out, you wouldn’t particularly mind.

Tipping the lip of the glass into your mouth, you discovered that no wine remained in the cheap plastic. A frown presented itself on your pouty lips with a grumble following shortly after. You promised yourself only one glass, but you had broken that promise an hour ago. Now, you reached for the bottle nestled beside you on the floor, emptying the contents into the glass until the liquid almost reached the lip once more. It was the bottles turn to be empty, and you giggled as you dropped it on the ground.

The two fast buzzes from your phone dropped your smile from your lopsided lips as your eyes fell upon the glowing screen perched on your coffee table. You almost decided to ignore it, your attention falling back to the swarm of jellyfish on your T.V. screen as the narrator compared them to his vacuous coworkers, but something told you to check and see who it was.

The drunk part of you, mostly, who really wanted it to be Taehyung.

Struggling with the wine glass and your own imbalance, you reached over to the coffee table and snatched up the phone in unsteady fingers. You turned on the screen to find a text message awaiting you once you unlocked it, the name of the sender sending excited jitters down your spine.

Mr. Kim.

It was a picture.

Your eyes scanned over the photo he sent you hungrily taking in every detail you could of the man posed in front of a mirror wearing a velvety navy blue shirt over nice fitting black slacks. His hair appeared slightly tousled and a little wet from what looked to be a shower. You couldn’t help the way your mouth watered, eyes only catching the words below the picture after scanning the whole image twice.

[9:48 PM] Think I should wear this shirt tomorrow?

A crinkle formed on the bridge of your nose at the question.

[9:50 PM] You: Why are you asking me?

[9:51 PM] Mr. Kim: I was gonna wear the fairy shirt, but it’s dirty.

[9:51 PM] Mr. Kim: Help me pick out another one?

[9:53 PM] You: Why?

Suddenly your phone began buzzing in your palm with the same name of the man you did not want to speak to while inebriated flashing green across the glass screen. You hesitated in swiping to answer, but answered the call too quickly before he was sent to voicemail.

“It’s the Spring Festival tomorrow. I gotta look sparkly!” he offered in place of a simple hello, his voice sounding far too awake for someone who had to be back at work in seven hours.

“So Mrs. Benton can find you easier?” you grumbled.

“Jealous?”

“How about the rose pink button up? That’ll look good with gold glitter.”

“Nice change of subject.” You could hear the amusement in his voice being slightly rustled by what sounded like fabric being pulled over the speaker until it quieted and he gave a sigh. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more today. You were right. They’re vultures.”

“You liked it.”

“I would have liked being with you way more.”

“Stop being a flirt.” You dropped your head into your available hand, his words making your drunken cheeks burn hotter than before.

“I’m being honest! I like you so much more than all those PTA moms combined.”

You wanted to ask if that’s why he kissed you, but lost the courage. “That’s just because we’re on the same team.”

“That’s not the only reason.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mmm, I’ll tell you tomorrow. Get some sleep. It’s gonna be another long day.”

He hung up the call before you could pester him into giving you an actual answer, leaving you sat in silence with only the company of the whiny British man on T.V. to help you make sense of your muddled thoughts.

-----

You hadn’t seen Tae all day. You weren’t avoiding him. Not necessarily. You just happened to be so busy with the Spring Festival preparation that had taken you out of your classroom before first period even began that bumping into Tae was almost impossible. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him. You just hadn’t had the chance. Your freakishly early arrival and blatant ducking every time Tae made an appearance had nothing to do with it, either. At least that’s what you proclaimed to an imaginary judge and jury that sat judgmentally in your brain.

Heading into the afternoon portion of the Spring Festival, you yawned. It wasn’t a pretty yawn, a delicate yawn, something akin to a dainty fawn snuggled warm in a bed of roses. No, your yawn was ghastly, wide, and tumultuous as it fell from behind your pressed palm loud enough to call the attention of your two homeroom helpers, Vivi and Luisa. They giggled when you turned from them with a five minute signal, asking them to man the station while you took a small walk to the snack table by the stage on your right. Your first order of business: nabbing some sort of bread thing.

You weren’t worried about leaving the two girls behind. After all, they were two of your favorite students, hard working and diligent, and they often made it a habit to linger by your room when they had free time. You trusted them without a doubt. And they liked you enough to stick with you for all six hours of the festival without complaint. It was a good little thing you had going.

However, it was because of their favoritism towards you, no doubt, that they picked up on your downcast demeanor that morning when they showed up to help. They asked if you were sick, and you had to contend that, no, you weren’t you were just tired. They then proceeded to tease you, asking if you were tired because you had stayed up all night with Mr. Kim. You let them live with that lie, because even that was better than the truth.

What you didn’t tell them was how viciously hungover you were from that bottle of wine the night before, the stench of the sugary liquor still stuck in your nostrils. All because of their second favorite teacher, Mr. Kim.

Gingerly, you nibbled on a piece of Graham cracker you snuck from the donations box hidden under the snack table, hoping that it would stave off the nausea you so vehemently felt. This is why you didn't drink often, you kept telling yourself, present you chastising past you for putting you in this kind of predicament. And the day before the Spring Festival, come on really? You almost wanted to go back in time and slap the wine bottle out of your past selves hand. This was cruel and unusual punishment. You felt so bad that the very idea of crawling under the snack table to stop the world from spinning seemed like a viable option.

But you didn't. Because you were an adult. And people were watching.

Instead, you cast your eyes outward over the crowd of happy children and mildly annoyed parents taking inventory of those you had met before and those you’ve never seen in your life. You could make out the teachers in the room just by body language alone and the way they all kept to the edges of the commotion with watchful eyes trained on their group of homeroom rugrats. It was then that you spotted a familiar face, the one you weren't intentionally hiding from, strolling your way through the mess of people that were currently crowding up his gym.

You noticed the handsome, young gym teacher before he noticed you, but when he did notice, a bright smile overtook his charming face as he approached you at the table, a hoard of small plastic cups filled with the sugary beverage provided by Mr. Park's homeroom nestled just behind you in your own treasure pile. Just like a magpie.

“Hey Jungkook.” You waved happily at him as he arrived, your own smile mirroring his bright one.

“Hey, Teach. How’re you doing?”

You hummed through a piece of graham cracker. “Hungover, but don’t tell anyone that.”

“Secrets safe with me.” He motioned an x over his heart, ensuring you that he wouldn’t tell anyone. It made you giggle a little bit.

Jungkook was one of your colleagues that you actually, genuinely liked as a person. He was funny in a dorky, charming way that often left you endeared to him after speaking with him for a handful of minutes. He also never took himself too seriously and was not afraid of being the butt of a joke if it meant others around him would be happy. His looks didn’t hurt either because, shit, was the man hot. That was neither here nor there though, as you actually saw him as a close friend, not a potential romantic interest.

However, not everyone crowding in the gym felt the same as you did towards the younger gym teacher. If you thought the PTA moms were being vicious with Taehyung, you had another thing coming when they locked their sights on poor, defenseless Jeon Jungkook.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked whilst you subtly eyed every thirsty mom who threw longing gazes Jungkook’s way.

He awkwardly shrugged. “You know, checking stuff out.”

“Hiding?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

You raised the half eaten Graham cracker to your mouth, nibbling on an edge like a gerbil. “Tae had the same problem last night.”

Hearing this, Jungkook's expression opened like the floods unleashed on an unsuspecting biblical village. His eyes grew wide, mouth hung ajar in bewilderment as he groaned. “Dude, they’re vultures. Like can’t they buy vibrators or something?”

“I’m sure they have plenty."

“Oh, that’s a mental image I did not want."

“You gave it to yourself,” you snickered.

He only winced.

You continued to nibble on your sweet treat as you and Jungkook fell into silence once more. Well, as silent as you could be in a room full of kids and parents all pretending they didn't mind the nauseating Baby Shark playing over the speakers. You almost wanted to ask Jungkook if he could watch your booth for a minute while you suffered in true silence somewhere else, but a figure strolling into the gym made you pause. Body growing tense as eyes cast downward to avoid him seeing you staring at him.

Jungkook, for all the good he was, bent down so his mouth was closer to your ear level. “Looks like I’m not the only one hiding.”

You flashed him a glare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did something happen with you and Mr. Kim?”

“I’m gonna feed you to the vultures.”

It was his turn to snicker as he caught sight of Mr. Kim looking around the gym, no doubt looking for you. He wasn't sure what the situation was between you two at the moment, but he knew sexual tension when he saw it and fuck was it rolling off the two of you whenever he caught you guys talking.

Jungkook watched Mr. Kim, Taehyung, seemingly attract to you like a moth to a very enticing flame and he wasted no time in b-lining straight for the pair of you when he did catch sight of you gnawing on the graham cracker. You refused to lift your head to watch him make his way over and Jungkook had half a mind to stay quiet just to see how this would play out. For amusements sake, of course.

He found it best to warn you before you punched him for not warning you. “He’s coming over. Give me a signal if you need to be rescued”

You very nearly told him to fuck off. In front of the students.

“Hey! There you are!" Taehyung's voice interrupted your angry thoughts calling your attention to him rather than the annoyingly mischievous gym teacher.

“Hey,” you muttered, enthusiasm lost on the syllable.

Taehyung didn't notice. Instead, he stretched one arm away from his body, the other tucked behind his back, as a shit eating grin plastered itself on his gorgeously tan face. “So what do you think? Fairy enough?”

“Why’s your hand behind your back?”

“Ah. See.” He cleared his throat, then swept his arm out to reveal a pretty red rose, freshly cut. “Some students felt generous enough to give me a rose they won, but with one caveat: I had to give it to you”

You could blame your reddening cheeks on the hangover, but that would be a lie. Blaming the sudden wave of nausea on the hangover would be a lie too. “What? Tae, you don’t have to it’s fi---”

“I really owe them for this, actually. Didn’t have the guts to just outright say it,” he grinned right through your stuttering response.

“Say what?”

Instead of answering, he extended a hand out to you-the hand without the rose-and shifted his grin into a charmingly shy smile you couldn’t exactly resist.

“Come take a break with me. I’m sure Jeon won’t mind watching the booth for a few minutes.”

“I---” you stammered, brain all but pudding in your cranial cavity so much so that you couldn’t even resist. All you could do was look back to a very pleased Jungkook who looked like the cat that caught the canary. “Kookie, do you mind?”

“Remember you’re still at work, please?” he winked.

“That’s not---we won’t---”

“No promises, Jeon.” Taehyung waved him off as he grasped your hand in his.

You swore you heard entertained snickering as you walked away from Jungkook, but it could also have been the beehive swarming in your ears that produced the noise. You weren’t sure. You also weren’t sure how you ended up in front of Taehyung’s classroom given that you didn’t even remember leaving the gym. You were quite surprised you made it out without any big issues, if you were being honest.

Tae unlocked the class then swiftly pulled you inside before locking the door once again, probably so no one would bother you. Your confusion only grew when you came back to yourself fully and realized that you were alone. With Taehyung. In his classroom. And he looked amazing. As always, but still. Nerves began to grow despite you trying to stop them.

“Tae, what’re we doing in here?” you turned to him in bewilderment, but he left no room for a verbal response.

Eyes grew the size of cathedral windows when you felt the soft press of his honey mint lips against your very chapped ones. Your body froze in the moment as you took it all in, the absurdity of the situation unfolding before you.

There you were, dressed in messy jeans and a rumpled t-shirt with a vicious hangover paling out your complexion. Your hair was, no doubt, a horrendous rat’s nest and your breath, no doubt, tasted of expired alcohol and graham crackers. And you were kissing Taehyung. Taehyung, the man who stole your heart slowly without you noticing. Taehyung, the man who you never would have guessed wanted you in the way you wanted him. Taehyung, the man you swore was going to be just your friend for the rest of your life. You were kissing Kim friggen Taehyung. Or rather he was kissing you. Because you couldn’t fucking move an inch with your body set to stone from anxiety alone.

You wanted to fall into a deep hole of self loathing. That is until Tae’s large hand came to press against the back of your head, his tongue giving your bottom lip a bold swipe and you were lost.

To hell with insecurities, the kiss felt damn amazing.

You weren’t bold enough to dig your fingers into the loose shirt adorning his torso, but you did allow yourself the comfort of falling into his body with every inch of your chest pressed tightly against his own. The surroundings faded the longer the kiss went on until you both forgot where you were along with the even more pressing issue of what you two were doing being absurdly inappropriate.

Because it was absurdly inappropriate. If the school principal caught you...

It seemed that thought, covered in images of the school principal firing both of you, added the cold dose of reality for you and you softly pushed Tae away until only your breaths mingled. He chased your lips desperately, yet you kept your steady palm resting along the flat plains of his chest until he was able to look at you with clear eyes.

You didn’t dare verbally ask the question that was raging in your mind, but you were shit at hiding your emotions, so you knew Tae was able to read every last word on your perplexed expression. He sighed after a few heartbeats, eyes falling for a second to the crumpled rose on the floor then rising back up to meet yours.

“I like you. A lot. So much.” He gulped, unsteady lungs pumping unsteady breaths across the expanse of your face. “I’m sorry I’m being so forward about this. I’ve tried...so hard to show you how I feel, but I could never tell if you understood. You always look at me with those damn doe eyes...I didn’t want to take a chance anymore. I like you.”

Utter sincerity dripped from his expression, yet you could do nothing but remain silent. So many emotions warred within you from elated to cautious then circled right around to fear and dread. You didn't know how to interpret all of them at once, so all you did was stare back at him like, well, a deer in the headlights. It made Taehying anxious, tongue running nervously over his bottom lip, hand clenching in a fist where it came to rest on the wall behind your head. “Please say something.”

You gulped. “Tae...we work right next to each other”

“I know.”

“If this doesn’t work out…”

“Trust me, I know.” he sighed, very nearly relieved as he rested his forehead against yours. “But, last night...when I kissed you...I knew I couldn’t get around it anymore. Vivi and Luisa just helped push me along, I guess.”

Hearing the name of your two students made you pause and pull away from him, mind working overtime to figure out when in the hell they had time to do that. “They gave you the rose?”

“Told me to just tell you I loved you already.” His laugh turned into a bewildered expression when he caught the shocked stare you gave him. “Don’t freak out. I’m not saying I do--- but totally not saying I don't ...although that’s the natural progression right? If this works out and we---”

His nervous chattering quieted with the layer of your lips against his, which was exactly what you wanted. You weren't worried of him loving you or not loving you, at least not yet. You just got him. You wanted to explore your relationship first. Just the way you never wanted to stop exploring his delicious mouth. But, when you started grinning at the thoughts of all the things you would get to do with each other, you knew you had to stop and set the record straight.

A cheesy grin spread across your mouth when you noticed how pacified he looked.

You couldn’t help but give him a single peck. “I like you too, dummy.”

He hummed. “You do?”

As an answer, you resumed where you left off absolutely living for the soft slide of your lips that worked in tandem while, unaware, somewhere out on the school grounds were scores of parents, teachers, and your boss who were all none the wiser of what was happening in the fifth grade History teacher’s classroom. It almost made you laugh with nervous excitement were it not for Taehyung's arms slipping around your waist.

He pulled you flush against his body until you could feel every firm, toned muscle under his goddamn self proclaimed fairy shirt. He was radiating a comforting heat you couldn't get enough of. You wanted to run your hands over his warm skin, slip your greedy fingers under the offensive fabric and see how it feels to have Taehyung under your fingertips. How he would squirm under you, but you refrained.

After all, you were still at work.

He pulled away from you first with a look of nervous intent in his eyes you couldn’t quite read. After a confession like the one he just gave you, you weren’t sure why he would be unsure of himself now. Yet, there he was. You softly brushed your thumb over the glistening saliva surrounding his mouth, hoping to give him a little courage.

“Wanna come over to my place tonight?”

This time, you were the one unsure. “Tae--”

“Not for that,” he laughed, then tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, all tenderness in his smile. “I want to make you dinner. Have an actual date with you.”

You wouldn't be able to stop the jack hammering in your chest even if you tried. And you didn't try. Because those words, this feeling, were exactly what you always wanted with Taehyung. You couldn't deny yourself any more.

“I would love to.”

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