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goosewriting · 2 years

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Baby 🥺 (rottmnt Leo x reader)

summary: a turtle baby suddenly appears in the kitchen, and he looks suspiciously a lot like Leo

relationship: Rise!Leo x GN reader (established)

warnings: fluff!, vague mention of childbirth

word count: 2.5k

A/N: inspired by this post by @jasontoddisbest !! listen there’s some real gems in there, if someone out there writes them or sees them written, please tag me! i’d love to read the others :’) excuse any mistakes,, i wrote this at 2am sfdsdff

More “Baby 🥺” versions: Leo (you’re here) | Raph | Donnie | Mikey

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

It had been a little over a year since the turtles had defeated the Krang. New York was slowly but surely recovering, as were you all.

Your boyfriend, Leo, was the one with the most nightmares since then. He would wake up in a cold sweat, often screaming in his sleep. You were by his side, trying to support and comfort him to the best of your abilities.

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, just like any other. You were kicking Leo’s butt at Smash Bros, much to his annoyance. You were both sat on the floor in front of the screen, as he took a pillow from the sofa to throw at you. It landed in your face with an ‘oomph!’, blocking your view, and that’s when Leo did his move, winning the round.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” you cried out, pouting at him. Leo gasped in mock offense.

“Puh-lease.” he set down the controller and grinned mischievously at you. “You wanna know what real cheating is?” He crawled closer.

“Leonardo. Don’t you dare” you said, pointing an accusing finger at him, knowing exactly what he was about to do.

“Oh I very much dare!” he laughed, climbing on top of you and tickling your sides. You laughed and huffed, slightly slapping his arms and begging him to stop.

“I’m sorry I can’t hear you over me winning fair and square” he teased you, tickling you harder.

“Alright! Alright, y-you win, plEAse stoP” you breathed hard between laughs, tears on the side of your eyes. Leo climbed off triumphantly and pulled you up, bringing you to his chest in a hug instead. You hugged him back, trying to calm your breathing.

“Why do you have to be such a sore loser” you mumbled into his chest with a grin, and he was just about to retort when you heard weird zapping sounds, followed by a thump and the soft cry of surprise.

“Did- did you hear that?” you pulled back and asked Leo.

“Yeah, it came from the kitchen. Go get my sword.” he said in a low voice and sneaked to where the sound had come from.

You were scanning the room looking for his weapon, wondering where he even left it. In his room maybe? Just as you stood up, you heard Leo go “aaw~”, so you guessed it wasn’t a threat anymore. With every step you took you could hear Leo cooing.

“It’s okay little man, no need to cry” the turtle said with a voice you’d use to talk to a dog, or a small child maybe.

You entered the kitchen with a confused look, and before you was Leo crouching on the floor, picking up a little turtle toddler. A turtle tot.

“Look at this, Y/n!” he said, standing back up to his feet, with the turtle in his arms. “There was a weird portal thing, that just zapped closed, and it looks like this little guy fell through.”

“Aw, he looks a lot like you, actually!” you commented, seeing how the little turtle also had red markings around his eyes, but these were more circles rather than half moons.

“I think he hit his head” Leo said, gently rubbing the toddler’s forehead. The toddler looked like he was doing his best not to cry, but when he saw you approach, something in his face changed and he let go, crying, and stretching out his little arms towards you.

“Aw, poor thing” you said and picked him up into your arms. “There, there” Once the kid hugged you and clung onto your shirt, it calmed down immediately. You patted softly onto the shell.

“Wow, looks like he feels safe with you” Leo said, and then grinned. “Well, he’s smart to like you, if he’s anything like me.” You just playfully rolled your eyes.

“We gotta figure out where he came from; I’m sure his parents must be looking for him” you pointed out, starting to look around the kitchen for clues.

As you were both checking behind some boxes, you heard Donnie’s voice from the hall.

“Guys, guys! There was some weird energy spike just now, did you see anything-“ he stopped in his tracks when he entered the kitchen. The little turtle in your arms turned around to give the purple-clad turtle a quizzical look. Donnie looked at Leo, then at the little one, then at you, and his face seemed to go through all stages of grief before deciding that yes, he indeed should at least try to figure out what was going on and why you had a little turtle in your arms, instead of ‘nope’-ing himself out of the situation.

“Y/n. Why do you hold a turtle child that looks suspiciously familiar” Donnie said in a flat voice.

You both were explaining what happened, when Raph came into the room. He squealed in glee, cooing at the baby, and even carried it off to play while you three tried to make sense of everything. The little turtle didn’t seem intimidated by Raph in the least. Even Mikey joined in on them playing. The little man was having the time of his life.

Back in the kitchen, Leo, Donnie and you sat at the table.

“So you’re saying the portal was yellow, just like the one Mikey used to… get you back?” Donnie asked.

“M-Maybe? I’m not sure” Leo said, holding his head. “It was very quick, I just saw some zappy lights, is all.” You stroked his back in an attempt to comfort him. Thinking back to that night wasn’t easy for anyone.

“Donnie” you started. “Are you suggesting that it’s not where the baby came from but from when?”

“That is exactly what I’m suggesting.” He sighed. “There goes the space-time continuum, again.”

“Well, we have to figure out a way to get it back, right?” you asked. “I mean, his family must be worried sick, and he’s stuck here with us, poor thing.”

“Uhm, excuse you?” Leo said with a smile. “For having just left your timeline, I can’t imagine anything better than being stuck here with us.”

“Right, right” you laughed. “Then I guess we’ll make his stay as enjoyable as possible. Meanwhile Donnie will figure out something, right? He always does.”

You gave him a thumbs-up and took Leo by his hand, guiding him out of the kitchen.

Donnie groaned, but made his way to the lab. Maybe he’d find a way to backtrack where the turtle came from. Getting an idea on where to start, he came back to the living room where all of you were playing, hiding something behind his back.

“Will you hold the child for a second? I need to do something real quick.”

“That sounds awfully suspicious” you said, squinting at Donnie, and standing between him and the kid. “Whatchu got there?” You nodded at his hidden hand.

“I just need to take a quick blood sample, to know where or when he’s from. It’s just a small prick, really.” Donnie showed you what he was holding; it looked like a pen. Since it wasn’t a full on syringe, and it could help the baby, you decided to allow him to pass you.

Getting a cookie from the kitchen, you picked up the little turtle, Donnie making quick work of getting a blood sample. When he felt the prick, the baby squealed and cried, but you managed to calm him down quickly, offering him the cookie, which he gladly took, sniffling.

You and the guys spent the majority of the afternoon just playing with the kid, taking turns to watch it. Even Splinter joined in, as his heart melted at the sight of the little turtle tot, reminding him of his own sons when they were little.

Donnie ran some tests to see if there were any hints on substances present in the blood that could tell him a specific location of the baby’s origin, as well as a couple other tests.

When his computer beeped, signalling a test had successfully finished running, he looked up from his desk to check the result. He pressed a couple buttons on the tech pad on his wrist, taking a sip of his mug while he waited for the text to appear. When he saw it though, he spat his drink all over his work station.

“You can’t be serious right now…” he muttered, checking the results again. Yup, they were unequivocally true.

He stopped and considered for a moment what to do, if it was wise to tell the others or not, but then he just thought ‘Screw it, the timeline is already messed up anyways’, and he called you and Leo over.

Upon hearing your name being called, you left the little turtle on a pile of cushions you had placed on the floor as a makeshift bed for him. He had just fallen asleep. As had Mikey and Raph, who lied not very far on the floor, surrounded by cookie crumbles and empty milk cartons.

Giving the little turtle one last glance over your shoulder, you and Leo made your way to the lab. Donnie was standing leaning back against his desk, both hands before his face, with the fingertips touching.

“So, what’s up?” you asked him, coming to a halt in front of him, Leo next to you.

Donnie didn’t say anything, just looked at you, then at Leo, and sighed. Leo and you shared a confused look.

“There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll just say it as it is.” Donnie paused. “And the problem here isn’t that it’s something hard per se to say, it’s just weird-“

“Just tell us, Donnie” Leo interrupted.

Once again he looked at you both, and it was starting to scare you a bit. What he was about to tell you, was it that bad? Was the little turtle really sick or something?

“I ran some blood tests, comparing it to your samples, and as it turns out: the little turtle in our living room is you two’s biological child.” Donnie said in one go. “Of the future.”

“We have a kid?” Leo asked in disbelief.

“You have my blood samples?” you questioned.

Leo turned to look at you, with a giant smile on his face, his gaze softening. With the look he was giving you, the blood acquired without your consent was quickly forgotten.

“We have a kid!” Leo repeated, picking you up and swirling you around. You squealed in surprise, hanging on for dear life.

As he came to a halt, he just held you, looking at you with the most lovestruck face you had seen him make yet.

Somewhere in your brain you started to question the mechanics of the whole thing though. Were the chromosomes even compatible? Was he actually born or did one of you lay… an egg? Do turtles lay eggs?

You shook your head to get rid of the images in your head, deciding to focus on the fact that Leo was just as ecstatic as you at the thought of having a kid with you. After all, he’s the one you want to spend the rest of your life and maybe have a family with. Except that that last “maybe” just transformed into a “definitely”.

Seeing that you weren’t answering, Leo pulled back a bit to look at you.

“I mean, it’s okay if it’s not something you want. It’s just- I’ve been trying to envision this for quite a while now. And having him just there in our living room, it’s surreal-“ Leo was starting to ramble, and you shut him up with a kiss.

“It’s okay, Leo” you held his face, resting your forehead on his. “It is what I want, just… not now. There’s a lot we need to figure out before we can even think about going there.”

“Right… I love you so much, Y/n” he whispered.

“I love you too, Leo” you replied just as quietly. Leo kissed you once more, and pulled back, turning to where Donnie had been.

“So, do you know how to send him back-“ he asked into the empty lab, because Donnie had been long gone.

Seeing that he wasn’t in the room anymore, Leo grabbed your hand and you both went back to the living room. Approaching the turtle tot, you kneeled down on each side and just watched it peacefully snoozing.

You gently stroked over his little cheek, and his tiny hand came to curl around your index finger. He looked so content.

Glancing back up to Leo, you found him fondly looking at the little turtle. You had never seen him make an expression like that, and for some reason, it moved you at your core. You could feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes, and you blinked repeatedly, trying to get rid of them.

Just as you were about to ask him what kinda future he had envisioned, there was that zappy sound again.

Looking to your left, a bright yellow light started expanding, and stepping through it came none other than an older version of Mikey. You just sat there, unable to find the words.

Leo must have felt the same, because he opened his mouth but nothing came out. This Mikey looked around for a bit, and sighed in relief when he saw the baby. Silently making his way over as not to wake up your time’s Mikey and Raph, he sneaked to where you were, and picked up the little turtle, careful not to startle him awake.

“Sorry, I swear I looked away for one second and he was gone!” Mikey whispered with a sheepish smile.

“Remind me never to let you babysit our kid again” you softly laughed.

Leo’s heart skipped a beat at ‘our kid’.

“Ah, so you know…” Mikey said. “Well, you were bound to find out at some point anyways.” He tiptoed back to the portal, saluting you both.

“Oh and by the way” he said over his shoulders with a wink. “It’s not just one!” And with that he was gone again, the light disappearing with a zap.

You blushed furiously at his comment, going stiff. You looked at Leo, who had also a bit more colour on his cheeks.

“We should totally start looking up baby names” he finally said after a moment, scooting closer to you and slinging his arm over your shoulder.

“Nuh-uh” you responded, nuzzling into his side. “You’re forgetting a step there, dear” you jokingly brought up your left hand to his eye level and wiggled your left ring finger. You felt him tense up slightly at that.

You had only meant to joke, but realising what you just implied, you looked up at him to take it back. Before you could talk however, he held your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“I know. I can’t wait to make you my spouse” he mumbled into your skin.

“So… where’s the child?” Donnie asked, having appeared behind you out of thin air, with a fresh mug of his drink in his hands.

“Back where he belongs” Leo said, giving you a smug grin. You just sat there, avoiding both their eyes, blush going from the tip of your ears to your neck.

#goose feathers #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rottmnt leo x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt leo #jasontoddisbest #the turtle baby saga

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active-mind-15 · 15 days

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hi daezy! i love your headcanons <3 if i may, i challenge you to write your best of the worst "bad akashi jokes"

regardless, i hope you have a wonderful day!!

Hello and thank you!

This ask really challenged me to think long and hard about what type of jokes Akashi would make and I think I'll give a few examples. Actually, I should probably amend what I just said, because what I'm about to give are anti-jokes, which are jokes that start off with a traditional premise but have a non-traditional usually mundane punchline that's supposed to take people off guard by inverting their expectations of what the actual punchline is supposed to be.

I understand that the type of jokes/puns we hear in the anime/manga is supposed to be funny because it's Japanese wordplay, but I don't know much Japanese, so I'll give examples in English and you can pretend that the punchline would still land in Japanese. 🙏🏿

Example 1:

Two muffins are sitting in the oven. One muffin says "Wow, it's hot in here." and the other muffin says, "Sure is. It's probably around 180 degrees Celsius."

See how this is meant to work? Anti-jokes bank off people expecting a clever punchline and then betraying their expectations by having the punchline be a normal answer. But coming out of Akashi's mouth, his delivery just makes the anti-joke not sound like a joke at all, and everyone would be waiting for him to continue but he's like "No, that was the joke." and everyone just says a collective "Oh."

Here are some more anti-jokes I think he'd try and fail to use.

Example 2:

A horse walks into a bar. Several of the patrons quickly get up and leave, realizing the potential danger in the situation.

I picked this one simply because I feel like his equestrian ass would know at least one horse joke, and he would probably find this way funnier than the non-horse lovers.

Example 3:

"Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"To."

"To who?"

"No, it's 'to whom'."

This one could also be funny if told correctly, but because it's Akashi, the punchline sounds a bit too matter-of-fact coming from him, and people will think that he genuinely interrupted the joke to correct them on grammar. And now nobody's laughing.

I'll give you one last example.

Example 4:

Why is 6 afraid of 7? It’s not. Numbers aren’t sentient and are therefore incapable of feeling fear.

This is another one that sounds too matter-of-fact coming out of Akashi's mouth and I think that not only would nobody laugh, but the punchline might annoy some people. Especially if Akashi is trying to make that joke with someone like Aomine.

Overall, Akashi is trying his absolute best, but maybe he should leave the jokes to the funnier people in his friend circle...

#rakuzan would at least try to laugh #but akashi can hear the pity in their voices and it makes him feel worse #someone please give him a joke book to read #kuroko no basket #knb headcanons #akashi seijuro #tumblr asks

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archibaldtuttle · 11 months

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oh, you struggle with they/them because it's "ungrammatical" to use it as a singular pronoun? that's no problem! I also use it/its, that's perfectly correct grammatically, you've used it your whole life already!

what's that? oh you're not comfortable with that either? wow. it's almost like.... the grammar isn't actually what you don't like about it........

#I had *conversations* today

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straight4joekeery · 1 year

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Teach Me How To Love In Your Own Lyrics

(Part two)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the finals happening, his classes were actually quiet for once. Except for the constant “Mr. Harrington may I use the restroom?” At least they used correct grammar. His fourth period was by far his favorite of the classes (although he would never admit it). They were the smartest group and they actually listened. They got done impressively quick leaving them with 20 minuets of class. He collected their papers and leaned back on the front of his desk. “So,” he begins, “anyone have any fun summer plans?” Which he knows is like the most teachery question to ever be asked but oh well.

They all had the basic answers : going to the beach, spending time with family (he loved the kids that said this), and the classic going to spend every day at the arcade. However, there was one answer that stuck out to him.

“What about you James?”

“I get to go to my favorite bands’ concert!” He sounded so excited

“Oh really? Who?”

“Corroded Coffin! They’re coming to Indy!”

Sometimes Steve forgets how big they actually are so the answer kind of took him by surprise. “That’s awesome! Okay random question. Show of hands, who listens to Corroded Coffin?” Almost every single kid raised their hand. Wow. They are in for a treat.

“Now I’m sorry kids but I think I have you all beat, I am 100% their biggest fan.” All the kids protested. James especially about how “I don’t see your tickets!” Steve grinned “okay okay maybe not but…” he reached behind him to his desk in search for something. He pulled out 2 Polaroids. One was from about 5 years ago of him and Eddie on the swings at the local park. They may or may not have been as high as a kite, but that wasn’t important. The other was more recent. It’s the two of them in the Wheeler’s basement. Eddie is playing the most ‘metal’ song ever his guitar while Steve plays a kazoo. He smiles at the memories to himself before turning the pictures around to the kids and saying, “Is your best friend the lead guitarist?”

The kids were in awe. James stood up and pushed his way towards Steve. “You?”

“Yes?”

“Friends with THE Eddie Munson?”

“The one and only, yes.” He looked so shocked? Excited? Angry? He could not read any of his students emotions no matter how hard he tried. James turned around and sat back down with the same expression plastered on his face.

All of the class wanted to know how they knew each other. Oh. Steve had to make up a story on the spot. He really couldn’t say “oh yeah when the inter-dimensional portal opened up I went looking for him, because y’a know he had murder charges and had to hide, but anyways long story short he died and I gave him cpr, and we have been BFFS since!” So he goes with:

“Well we went to high school togeth-“

“WAIT!”

“What now James?” he sighed

“You went to school here right?

“Correct.”

“That means Eddie went to school here?!?!”

“Yeah? The whole band did, now if I can cont-“

“WHAT???”

Steve took a deep breath, “now can I continue?” James mumbled some sort of yes. Steve laughed, “Okay. So yes we went to high school together but we didn’t really now each other then. We were on opposite sides of the field I guess? He started his own d&d club. And I..” he sighed, “was on the swim team.” All the kids booed. He laughed and continued, “I know I know. Anyways, we met through mutual friends, and after all said friends left town he became my best friend, not to mention I have saved his life.” The kids were all silent except for (you guessed it) James.

“What is he like?”

“What do you mean?” He asked while looking back at the pictures.

“Like is he one of those celebrities who’s really mean in person?”

Steve snorted, “not at all, he may look like he’s really mean but I swear he’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met,” he paused and smiled, “This one time his car broke down so I drove him home and,” he giggled, “he saw a cat on the side of the road. He yelled at me to stop the car, and we had just went to get fast food, so he jumped out of the car, gabbed the cat, and started giving the cat fries. I had to force him back into the car. He cried actual tears for HOURS because he didn’t get to keep the cat. He already named it too. Get this, Jameson the third. He doesn’t even know a James let alone a Jameson.” He set the pictures down and glanced at his watch. “Oh guys we have 2 minutes before the bell rings. So yes James he’s super nice.”

When the bell rang and they all told him goodbye. They seemed more cheery then normal. He was glad for that.

It was his lunch period next. He wanted to look over some papers so he stayed in the classroom. He got done but didn’t want to leave, so he just stared at the ceiling and got lost in thought. He thought about Eddie leaving. He really got sad just at the thought. 3 months was going to be a long time. He realizes that he hasn’t even left and he misses him. The only person he’d have left in Hawkins would be the English teacher Julie Smith and to be honest she’s starting to annoy him. He doesn’t know how Eddie did it for a year. He thought that maybe Steve didn’t mean as much to Eddie as Eddie did to Steve. He quickly discarded that thought along with the tears that were now rolling down his cheek. He felt like they all needed a formal goodbye to Eddie. And that’s when he had a great idea. He picked up the phone and dialed Robin.

“Helllooooo?” She answered

“Robin.”

“Steve! What’s up?”

“I have an Idea but I kinda need your help.”

“I’m listening. ”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here is part 2! To be honest this wasn’t planned at all. It was meant to be a paragraph or two of part three but oh well. More stuff for you guys 😉. I think I might love making Steve cry. Idk why I do it constantly tho. This part is also kinda short :(. Anyways hope you enjoyed! I think this one is pretty good. You can probably tell how low my self esteem is by this 🤷‍♀️. Ngl i kinda hate it. Oops. So far I have parts 3 and 4 written. I think I will post one part a day. Also part count update: it’s now going to be 7-9 parts! Comment or reblog if you want to be tagged!! Thank you for reading!! <3

Tag list: @asbealthgn @queerbeansworld @bird-with-pencils @vecnuthy !!

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nudystar · 7 months

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okay this is my final statement, cause deadass I’m over it now

for the server thing, I did feel sorry and apologized to WHO I needed to apologize to. if I ain’t apologize to you, then idk what to tell you. apologies to the folks that had roles that we lied about.

to the folks that I ain’t never had beef with me, why are yall tryna make somethin out of nothin ? like deadass, some of yall I haven’t talk to in a minute and some of yall I never even interacted with. yall sayin yall fighting for your friends but I’m the villain when I do it ? please get out my face with that. you starting stupid ass beef when I don’t even talk to half of yall wtf. yet I’m childish ? alright.

naj, you specifically, what problem do I have with you? I want you so specific and let me know what we have going on. I never had an issue to begin with, we was never beefing so why tf are you talking so much shit about me? you trying to act all big and bad when I never had a problem with you. now you wanna talk as “civilized adults”, after dragging my name through the mud FOR THREE DAYS ? yeah no, kiss my black ass and suck my damn clit !

do I feel bad that your friend got a death threat ? yes ! but it sure as hell wasn’t me or my mutuals 🤷🏽‍♀️. unlike yall, we have some couth and don’t be bothering nobody.

y’all constantly say I’m sending high schoolers to fight my battles and paint me as this pussy bitch. meanwhile y’all akeke and laughin with mean girls and damn near bullies, constantly dragging folks names through the mud fa no reason. to this day, yall stay on imani’s ass about a discord server from three months ago, after handing out apologies like an eviction notice. deadass, all seriousness, leave them alone. some of yall ain’t even deserve an apology but hey, whatever helps yall sleep at night

y’all stay coming at me with this “I got high schoolers to fight my battles” and “I got a gang of middle schoolers hyping me up”. boy yall sure don’t know me 😹, yall just assume everything cause some of them have minors in their bio. I got moots that’s my age and younger moots (oldest is 19). on top of that, I’ve met these niggas when I was 17, say it with me SEVENTEEN !

omg, crazy right ? I met them when I was a minor, that’s like so insane ! so if you do the math (correctly !), I’ve known these niggas for two years. I’m sorry that I have a strong ass friendship and I got folks who actually care about me 🤷🏽‍♀️ . meanwhile, yall are mdni blogs interacting with minors. hmm, but doesn’t mdni stand for MINORS do not interact ? or maybe I just miss a memo ?

small note, yall literally lack math, english, and comprehension skills if you think my friend, juice/mypimpademia, is 14-15. not only can yall not spell, yall don’t make sense either. if she had her blog for about 2-3 years and she’s 14, wouldn’t she be 11-12 writing on here ? oh, hm, that’s doesn’t seem right. y’all just be seeing minor and think it means 13-14, oh y’all do not know the definition of minors…..which means anyone BELOW the age of 18, 10+8, 9+9, 14+4. cmon now guys, I thought we were better than this !

speaking of them, yall stay talking about how I got high schoolers as friends yet be so mad that yall are blocked by these same minors 😹. niggas are so pressed about being blocked by these high schoolers, it’s sad ain’t gonna lie. now I ain’t they damn momma or their damn parent, so idgaf what they do and when they do it

also, to think I’m trying to disrespect someone talking is honestly so…wow ! y’all saying I’m correcting her aave when I use aave my own self, you can literally scroll and see it yourself but anyways ! not only that, say I grew up in a white neighborhood just cause I corrected her grammar ? not her aave, her grammar. maybe if she wasn’t being rude asf to the op, nobody wouldn’t say anything but hey 🤷🏽‍♀️.

not only that, aren’t you insinuating that only white folks can talk proper ? that they’re the only ones who can speak properly ? isn’t that pushing a stereotype to a black girl ? hmmm, says a lot about you as a writer, especially as black writer.

to the eren discourse, what’s to say atp ? y’all still gonna romanticize hood love and paint black love as violent and stereotypical as much as you can. yall gonna continue to slap eren as this fake black man and still gonna be blinded to your wrongdoings. y’all still gonna paint onyankapon as this stereotypical black man who ain’t shit, paint him as aggressive asf and only smoke weed. but hey if that floats your boat, it sure asf will sink mine !

in conclusion, I genuinely don’t care if black tumblr don’t fuck with me no more. imma still stand on what I said 😹, yall ain’t making change shit about what I said unless I said something out of line. some of yall did already but I digress !

#( 💭 ) — discourse

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quotidian-oblivion · 2 days

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Wow taking a small break between asks made me forget which ones I sent soooo oops

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

XDD

OKAY NOW THIS. THIS I CAN GO ON ABOUT.

@sardonic-sprite and @tristicorde and @tireddruid can attest to this because I went to them when rambling about writing devices and how to get a fic or story right and Joan is a beta for my Merlin fics.

For oneshots, most of my oneshots are usually an idea that I get spontaneously and I rush to my documents to write it down but then it accidentally becomes a fic so I just format it then later edit it.

But multichapters, series and some certain oneshots (like the one I'm writing rn) are special. And yes, I do enjoy prepping a story.

I'm gonna take three examples: Let Them Be Brothers series, a wip slave!Merlin fic, and a 40k angsty oneshot which is also a wip.

Let Them Be Brothers (and Mafia Files)

This was my first series and I was basically experimenting as I went with it. I have a much clearer idea about how to go about planning a series now.

In this one, I first write the fic. It's 23 chapters officially. And while writing it, I basically started out with a chunk of text going on for pages without paragraphs and my personal notes to myself in bold and underlined sprinkled throughout it. Then, I divided the entire chunk into chapters, creating a story. Then I read my notes all over again and added bits of foreshadowing or corrected a detail here and there as I read.

Then I got to writing. And while writing, I just made some more minor changes and if I spotted a plothole, I would try and clear that up. Then while editing, I went back and read the entire fic and fixed up some mistakes and grammar. Then I read it again. Then I read it a third time. The first time, I read it carefully word by word to catch as many mistakes as possible. The second time, I read it as I would normally read a story, so I read with more speed, as if I was sitting in the reader's seat. The third time, I just read my favorite parts to squeal at it and enjoy it as a creator of an official story.

I hadn't planned a series for it, but while thinking about possibilities, I decided, "why not make it a series?" So I wrote down a few fic plans in my notes. The prep that was involved here was basically just a lot of reading and going back and forth and fixing or adding details. That's it.

By the time I finished posting the series, I was so done with reading it over and over again that i vowed never to read it again because I was now sick of it XD I love that other people enjoy it! It's why I read it so much to the point where I was just done and tired with the fics. So I'm incredibly happy that people are liking the whole series so much :) But I really did put a lot of planning and thought into it and I love planning and thought!

wip slave!Merlin fic

I recently got into slave!Merlin fics and then I realized that I could go really dark with this trope and decided to write out all the darkest voices and demons inside me. I just want to test the furthest of my limits with this fic.

Now, I'm writing this multichap the same way I do any multichap, but for this one, I decided to actually put use of what my English teacher taught me in class and actively plan out things rather than just write it.

So what I'm doing is first, I just wrote the basic summary so I wouldn't forget the concept of the fic. Then, I started creating chapter outlines. I'm on chapter 4 right now, but the thing is, ideas don't come in chronological order. At least not for me. I have currently eleven full/long scenes completely outlines at the bottom of the document under a section titled 'Excerpts'. What I'm doing with this one is that I'm writing down any and all ideas I'd like to have in the fic under that section, then as I write my chapter outline notes in chronological order, I add foreshadowing or parallels or teasers or build-ups to those scenes. All the while, I also add build-ups and teasers for the final ending of the fic too (which I've already written down how and when it's going to happen in the 'Excerpts' section). I don't think much in this stage, I'm just doing.

What's going to happen next, is that while I'm outlining it, I build it up and create fillers and things for a particular scene I want to have first. Then I copy-paste that scene, then move on to build up the next scene. Then what I'm going to do after I've finished completely outlining the fic, is that I'm going to read through my notes and add some extra bits of foreshadowing or detail, or teasers, or parallels, or build-ups, or information or- you get the point.

After that, I start writing. This stage is very simple and easy for me, because my outlines look like this:

(that's an outline I made while writing mmb)

So I basically just copy every sentence except to replace it with grammar or a better sentence structure XD

While writing, again, if I find any plotholes or some details missing or any of the like, I fix it up immediately. I also make notes for myself in between the outline or in between writing [like this] so any details I need to put in the later scenes, I will remember to put it. The pic above is a relatively clean version because usually my outlines are littered with notes. I look at those notes then adjust accordingly :)

And then after that, I'm gonna do what I did for ltbb and edit it by reading it over and over. Except this time, I'm gonna get my beta Joan to read over it so I don't have to make myself sick and done by over-reading it XD And then I post!!

40k angsty oneshot wip

This one's currently fully written, but it's just going through the beta stages right now. This one's special because I'm putting a LOT of work into it. I have three beta readers for this one. Sprite taking a look over the foreshadowing bits I used. Trist helping me with descriptions. Joan being a general beta reader. Immense, immense thank you to ALL of them btw!!

What i did here is that i wrote it like a normal multichap, but I didn't split it into chapters. I purposefully just kept it as a really long oneshot because chapters were uneven and it broke the flow of the fic and didn't pack that punch I needed it to. So after writing it all, I read it word by word and then I inserted the tiniest details of foreshadowing, juxtaposition, characterisation, dialogue etc. Joan can attest to that as well. And then I also asked Joan to give it another read so I can see what things readers can catch on their re-reads (or first reads even) and then highlight some aspects to make them more noticeable or make some other aspects subtle. We're currently going through that right now. I'm also handing over the fic to the other betas too (either in screenshots of certain snippets or as an entire fic) so they can provide their input as well.

So yeah, i'm really polishing this fic and am really proud of us for doing all this and making it the very best 😂✨

And yeah! That's my prep for stories! I really put a lot of work into mine and love every minute of it <33

#quotidian asks #vibey <3 #writer ask game #quotidian writes #quotidian fics

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sooniebby · 11 months

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Sorry if this is weird but is your first language English? I notice there’s a lot of spelling and grammar mistakes in most of your writing. You use new instead of knew, now instead of know and stuff like that. I’d watch for that if I were you. Other than that your English is really good. I’ve known English if about 8 years now and still make some mistakes so don’t worry, just be extra careful because some mistakes can change the entire story

💀 oh wow. I type these stories on my phone and sometimes auto correct changes the words despite the way I originally type them. And typing with just two fingers kinda leads to mistakes than if I used a laptop. Also sometimes I think of the word but forget to actually type them.

I do need to watch out for typos, that I know. But it’s usually hard to catch them until i read them like an hour later which sucks. English is my first language, sorry if doesn’t come across like that.

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pianocat939 · 1 year

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Heyo, I just started writing for tmnt and was wondering if you could look at my post so far and give some constructive criticism pretty please

(I'm asking you specifically b/c you're the best writer i know of on this app)

Oh wow- you guys are going ham on the compliments I must say. But, it's not like I hate it of course~ I am always ready to munch on your praise (actually I'm used to praise lowkey, not for writing tho)

I'm not sure what your limits are, and how long you want them to be but- I'll just give you what I would take into consideration.

First thing, and probably the most prominent thing as a writer:

Detail~!

Now, detail is kind of hard to manage, because you can under-do it or overdo it. So you have to really practice or read through other people's work to get a good feel of how much you need. (I'm still working on this)

I would add a sentence or two to explain the character's feelings or actions! (Again, I don't know how long you want your posts to be)

Second, and although I'm not saying this is a criticism for you, it's just a general rule in language:

Grammar and Conventions~!

I literally do not care who you are or how good you are with language. (ok I have some mercy for you if English isn't your greatest skill) but anyway, a good writer must always be clear and precise.

There are a lot of websites and downloads you can use to correct any spelling and grammar. I use Grammarly because I'm a lazy little bitch.

Third, the one thing I'm a hypocrite at because I don't feel like doing it:

Reading through your work.

Generally speaking, this is for more book publishers, but it wouldn't hurt to do it for blog writing too. I don't do it because I tend to read through my mistakes anyway. I just briefly skim through my work.

Now everybody says for mistakes but the tone and just word structure are a big thing. If you dislike a sentence, you can always change it.

And my last one, is just, an overall improvement that will apply for the rest of your writing experience:

Read through others' work and apply their style or take inspiration off from it~!

I don't have as much time to read stuff anymore, but when I do, I always take a bit, a bit of time to observe their writing style, tone and sentence structure.

Artists will probably understand this very well.

---

Anyway, I hope this helps you out a bit.

#asks #writing tips? kinda disorganized-

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in--other--words · 1 year

Text

Langblr Reactivation Challenge - Reflections

Week 3, day 7 of prepolyglot's langblr reactivation challenge

How do you feel at the end of this challenge? Did you meet any goals while doing this? Do you feel more confident in your language abilities? Where do you think you’ll go from here? Answer these questions either in your native language or your target language.

Wow, made it to the end of the challenge! Goals I wrote at the beginning, alongside my reflections, below...

Deutsch

Medium term: find 2-3 interesting Youtube channels that I can watch relatively comfortably (with captions) so that I have a way to learn that feels less effortful - I did this. Found a few but my favourites at the moment are Dein Sprachcoach and Lingster Acamedy :-)

Short term: become more confident writing simple sentences involving the dative case - Although I feel a bit more confident using the dative case for verbs with indirect objects (like giving something to someone), I still need to work on which prepositions require the dative case.

Plan to achieve this: make a post on Journaly or HiNative once or twice a week with a list of sentences. Start actually watching some of my German to watch list on Youtube............. Find a video/blog post of recommendations for German channels and give some of them a try. - Like I said the Youtube stuff I did, but I made a Journaly post like this once since writing down this goal :') and it focussed on sentences where someone gave something to someone else. So no surprise that that's what I feel slightly more confident with now! I still need more practice with this. I think every time I study a unit on Busuu I should create a sentence that's relevant to my life using the relevant vocab/grammar and get it corrected. Feels like it would be a lot of effort but it's so necessary to build spoken fluency as well as just comprehension.

Interesting that I completed my medium term but not short term goal with German... I think I didn't expect my comprehension to be as good as it was. Plus I was able to find some very easy Youtube channels. And output is always more of a struggle for me!

Español

Medium term: speak more confidently, with less self-consciousness about my pronunciation and grammar - I think I'm getting there by speaking a lot more, but again I need to focus more on pronunciation by doing more shadowing and recording myself speaking on a (close to) daily basis. On the bright side, I do feel I have more awareness of my weak points.

Short term: experiment with studying twice a week - class on Thursdays and review on weekends. Focus in particular on reviewing mistakes that get corrected during class. Try out a review system that's less time-intensive than anki - This was a bit mixed because it's a group class so I don't always get personalised corrections. However, I have been studying twice a week and I have been trying out a new review system for my online language exchanges, where I make sure I write down corrections and actively review them before the next session. It's early days but I feel like it's been working well so far.

Plan to achieve this: going to class is automatic since I've already paid for it!! But I need to put time in my calendar every weekend. Speak to my partner about it so it doesn't come as a surprise to him and so I have some accountability. - Although I did do this, it wasn't always on weekends, so the whole calendar time thing didn't end up being that important!

Next Steps

My next steps depend a bit on what happens with my Spanish class. I have three lessons left, and I don't know if the classes will continue after this because it depends how many people sign up for the next course. If the classes go ahead, I think I will continue trying to split my focus between Spanish and German, even though that has been challenging! But if not, I think I will dial back my Spanish with the goal of just maintaining it, and throw more time into my German, since we are thinking of moving to Germany next year. To be honest I would feel kind of relieved in this case.

Either way I plan to continue maintaining my French and Italian by getting in at least and hour of listening and a one hour conversation exchange per week. Recently I've been trying to make these conversation exchanges more productive by preparing a topic to present and reviewing my corrections more like I mentioned above. This has been helping so I really want to try and keep it up.

#langblr #langblr reactivation challenge #goals #deutsch #español

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friendlycursedspaceotter · 1 year

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So today I took the Louisiana state literacy test. (long post) In this essay I will try and show you how hard this thing actually is (source: a junior at a college prep high school whose best subjects are English and social studies)

Hold on to your period-appropriate hats, because this gets... how to I say this... interesting.

Question 1: "Draw a line around the number or letter of this sentence." LIKE HOW DOES ONE DO THIS? Lines are straight. I am not. Neither are letters or numbers. I had to look this one up, and apparently, they're asking about circles... which aren't lines.

Little math lesson here: A line is defined as a straight one-dimensional figure having no thickness and extending infinitely in both directions (source: Google). The key word here is "straight." A circle is a series of points equidistant from a center (source: sophomore year geometry class). It doesn't extend infinitely in both directions. A CIRCLE IS JUST AN INFINITY-GON!!! NOT A LINE! (also petition to call circles infinity-gons?)

Question 1, mathematically speaking, is impossible.

Now, questions 2 through 14 are generally easy. My ADHD brain just overthunk them. Common mistakes include not knowing what a cross looks like (less common nowadays, but still), not knowing whether phrases like "the last word in this line" mean you should underline the word "line" or that entire phrase (general consensus is the answer is "last"), and FOR THE LOVE OF GRAMMAR, DO YOU PUT ALL THE CIRCLES INSIDE EACH OTHER, OR JUST ONE CIRCLE INSIDE ANOTHER AND LEAVE THE CIRCLE ELSEWHERE?

Number eleven: you could cross out one zero and technically be correct, because... another math lesson, 1 million is 1*10^6. They gave us 1*10^10. The only difference is the number of zeroes. You just need to get rid of 4 zeroes and you'd be fine, or just mark off one zero, because that's the number you need to get rid of. (future essay: is zero actually a number?)

Number 15 is... just a mess. I'll link a PDF to the actual test if anyone's interested. But if you're somehow cheating on this via Tumblr, or if you are a time traveler who has this post saved and who also landed a random bigger-on-the-inside object in post-Reconstruction America, put a dot over the S. (more tips in the reblog)

16: just put a dot over that corner.

Nineteen is literally the Illuminati symbol in a square. I kid you not. *X-files music escalates*

17 and 18 are known as "counting by threes" and "powers of two"

24: write MOM or WOW. They pass every backwards test.

Also, for some people, "writing" is cursive. So, for reference:

(source: Google and this one teacher website)

I also had some ideas for how to pass it, but for now... that's it.

#louisiana literacy test #in this essay i will #history #us history #seriously this exists #did anyone else do this?#just why #literally wtf #rip everyone who ever had to do this

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arasokanbina · 2 years

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I've been loving all the girls and performances on Queendom 2. Of course my main girls being LOONA and KEP1ER and now adding Hyolyn and WJSN. Now as a major GG fan I've loved both Hyolyn and WJSN but not fully gone into them but Queendom finally unlocked it for me.

*I can only do LQ gifs so to see Yeonjung's eyes open so breathtakingly which makes my heart race go to [2:13].

So many funny characters from WJSN (I'm looking at you mainly Eunseo haha!) but I just stopped the vocal perfomance because Yeonjung took my breath away. In the booth practising before she said she was in a musical in my head I'm like wow powerful then they showed her in the musical and it clicked. She (and several other members that I won't list now because I already ramble far to much lol) caught my eye already but this! I'm floating! She's the reason why I stopped to write these thoughts!

And of course the Queen Hyolyn. As I said always loved her just didn't focus on her but now I will and will aim to get her previous album that I was going to get when it came out but hadn't be able to. At first I was a little concerned of her being solo and not that she couldn't do it but worried about it being unfair but as we can all see, she is not tipping the scale, SHE IS THE SCALE!

I'm rooting for Brave Girls too (in general)! Minyoung is so hard on herself and they all have a big struggle with confidence which is understanble with their long overdue boom boosting their lives which is a plus but also a shock to the system. Minyoung also recently being very sick with covid that definitely would have made her more worried to stress her voice, she's doing really well.

Last but no least VIVIZ. These three touch my heart, it's so rough on them too being pulled suddenly away from their group to begin again. A strange place of being Princesses with a new smaller castle. SinB is so fun and cool and I adore her relationship with Eunseo and Eunha is an actual baby I'm squishing my face each time she talks and sings because she really is just naturally that cute! SinB and Umji was the two members I sort of heard about and recognised before I was taking more overall notice at least regarding VIVIZ now. Umji is so sweet too, I love how they are all introverts as well. I never followed GFRIEND but I did really like Apple and Mago and now if course Bop Bop! Let's go VIVIZ!

Oh I checked both Eunseo and SinB are Gemini's...yep that makes sense I love it! 😂

Oh and to better mention my girls, yes they are making me teary eyed especially the vocal perfomance. Youngeun's tears were so beautiful and touching. They are correct even when she's older this is a forever moment!

Now just gotta wait for Queendom 3 so DREAMCATCHER can slay us all and I can explode.

🗒Notes: As usual I might add more later and there is probably some spelling and grammar mistakes. I'm a very slow watcher so it's why this is days later from the episode. It also takes me longer because VIKI is annoying and for some reason has no speed up option! Also these thoughts are mainly from the vocal perfomances and just the first two because I paused to write it so I'm sure my heart will be soaring again once I catch up!

Update: Yep! As soon as Hyolyn hugged Minyoung, I couldn't see from the tears! Aaaah!

#my comment #long post #Queendom 2 #Yeonjung #wjsn yeonjung #My gifs #Loona #Hyolyn #Brave girls #Viviz #Kep1er #Wjsn

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theskeletoninthegarden · 1 year

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I had a dream this morning, it took place in "the future".

My mind insists that this time period be dubbed "the Future", with a capital "F", but I digress. I knew it was thus because although my personal quarters-- my mind corrects me, my bedroom was not to be called my "personal quarters", as if I lived on a ship, it was "the Future" but we were still very much on planet Earth.

My...bedroom (I guess, with sarcastic disappointment) was very much in the style of the 22nd century (it looks like my bedroom does now, why must I word it this was). But our living room was very much not. It was an open floor plan, with slick flooring (I hate having used the word "floor" twice there, but we all have our peeves), wide windows that looked out over the metropolis that we called home (has to be metropolis, no one in "the Future" lives in the goddamn country; my brain corrects me, some people do, but those are folk that spend a great deal of their days In Space (my brain says that the "I" and "S" are capitalized here merely for emphasis) but which live in lower income bracket, i.e. galactic miners (my brain falters at the word "galactic" but I'm tired, and fuck if that doesn't sound like a sick band name)).

Where was I?

Oh, my living conditions.

Our living room, so to speak, was Big, but at least one of my roommates had to pass through it to get to his quarters (fight me, brain, I've already used the word bedroom too many times in this context). The television that we used consisted of two main screens and two smaller ones, because, again, it was "the Future" and my brain wishes to stress how incredibly "sci-fi" this era was ("is"? No, not "is"). Anyways, a lot of natural lighting, but so bright the strings of my subconscious assumes that, to some extent, those bitches were fake (I'm more awake, now).

My roommate was a (my brain insists "is a", but, again, I'm still waking up)… mechanical being (a goddamn robot with a TV for a head). A salary man who, in a moment of "wild passion" declared previously that he knew of my affections for him and whom which I was "dating" (it's unclear, something about this man makes it seem calling it "dating" would come off, to him, as being "quaint"). He was one of several other, possibly three, roommates of mine (no, I'm not calling them flat mates. It's "the Future" not "Space Britain").

An aside, but when he confessed that he "knew of my affections" he said it was appropriate that I take the time to write a paper on it (he didn't use the words thesis or dissertation, but he sure as hell used a Word), and that he would take a week off from work, after myself, to do the same for me. This roommate of mine, although a...robot (wow, I can see the strain that put on my little fingers) used a holographic image (Image? That's not right. Skin? Well. Puns.) to present himself as a human being. This was (shut up) common practice among some (wow, grammar) of his folk (too awake, now) when presenting themselves. It was very "high-tech" (sarcasm, love it) in that it was entirely interactable. It seemed very much to be like real, "human" flesh, but with just enough intent could be temporarily interferred with enough to reveal the truth beneath it.

I recall one morning, when he had returned from his own vocation (nice word, I like that word) and I reached down, pulled his face to my own via hooking a finger through a a thick, metallic cable that connected a portion of his monitor to his neck, and kissed him. He could feel it, I could feel him, and, rather abruptly, he said he "was done" and I had to stop. He was distracted, declared that he didn't have time to be exploring one's bodily anatomy, and I wasn't bothered (I'm really going off on a tangent, here. Look, he was a straight laced fellow, with not so secret carnal inclinations that he hid under a thin veil of "respectability". Goddamn if I wouldn't marry him in an instant if I actually knew him IRL).

That day I received a "job offer" (as I called it) for training...somewhere. The email I was given popped up on one of the monitors, and, in regards to the wording, this is where things get truly odd.

The email requested that I "bring a tomato char" to ward off "rogue tomatoes" (a sort of creature? It was going into MMORPG territory, here). And...I truly forget the rest.

At the beginning of the dream, it introduced things by acquainting me with a "soldier model type" of one of these...robots (someone like my roommate, okay). This person was a high ranking officer, very efficient regards to stealth, and yada yada, and whom was fleeing his service. He was picked up by a service vessel (this is fine, as it was a ship capable of space flight), and stripped himself off his holographic skin for the sake of further anonymity (at least to anyone simply looking at him with their "human eyes" (future inquiry was possibly via sciency-science stuff, I don't want to go into it, I simply Cannot right now)).

Beneath the veil was a sort of robot with a very bulky main frame (hahahahahahahaha) that very much looked like a humidifier, but his head (it looked like a head, to be honest, sans the back of the skull) was on a sort of stalk (very much like my roommate-partner, actually, minus the low hanging cord (hahahahahaha)). His face plate very much looked like a porcelain mask. It was pretty cool (creepy to others, but evidentially a thing about "the Future" is presenting an aesthetic that is very "sci-fi" with the occasional dash of old-world whimsy (my room, this mask, the "galactic" miners and their strange love of folk rock).

Anyway, this robot was an escaped soldier model, there was some sort of war a-brewin' (or maybe this really was Space America in that...fuck, in my millennial brain when is it not war time?), and that is how the dream was introduced to me.

I don't know, it was neat, dreams are neat, and can someone go to work for me, please? I want to think about my not-roommate-partner-boyfriend-whatever. He was lovely.

#personal #writing #I suppose #dream #dreaming #dreams #all short of that Minecraft fellow

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shakiewv · 2 years

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Bruno with a s/o that takes care of him after his visions

SO! I just saw a post about how in the book they say that Bruno's gift actually cause him some kind of pain. AND I'M HERE WITH SOME HEADCANONS.

A little warning tho, english is not my mother language, so I'm really sorry for any grammar mistake. Grammar corrections are always welcome!

• Bruno is already used to the headache and sore eyes that comes after every vision, 40-something years of doing them constantly would do that to you, so he doesn't really do anything about them anymore.

• Also, due to him getting bad reactions from the villagers most of the time, he kinda sees the pain as a punishment for being a bad omen.

• You call BS

• When you both get together, after casita is rebuild, you are always there with him after every vision with some fresh coffee and one of Julieta's arepa to try and help with the pain.

• At first he tried to tell you that the pain isn't that bad, but you never falter. After a while of you taking care of him, he can notice that the pain that he always fells was seemingly worse when he wasn't taking care of it.

• After a really bad vision, like, "you are going to die tomorrow" kind of vision, the headache would be so much worse that even Julieta's cooking couldn't help, apparently her gift can only heal so much.

• In these cases, you would make sure to cuddle him all you can and whisper sweet things to him like "todo va a estar bien mi vida" or "no es tu culpa corazón" trying to comfort him.

• You also give a signal to the Madrigals for them to leave you both alone. The first time the saw a bad reaction of this kind they all tried to help Bruno, only making the pain worse due to him feeling already overwhelmed and extremely exhausted.

• At first the family gets sad when they can't help their brother and uncle, but after seeing you taking care of him with such love and delicacy, their own worry lessens, knowing that Bruno is in very good hands.

• After a while, and once Bruno has already calmed and if he feels like it, you would take him for a little walk around the forest in the night to see the stars and just be together.

• If he doesn't feels like it, you two would cuddle in your bed until morning, chatting in low voices and him telling you how much he loves you and how much he is grateful for having found you.

Edit: Wow, 250 notes!? That's a lot, I'm glad you liked this guys :')

#bruno madrigal x reader #bruno madrigal #encanto #bruno headcanons #encanto headcanons #madrigal family

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xxxrubytuesdayxxx · 3 years

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“What are you doing in my bed?”

Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Fluffy angst and a bit of smut towards the end

Word Count: 7,294

Concept: Kim Hongjoong doesn’t want to be a virgin anymore and he’s determined to get his way, even if it involves sneaking into your bedroom between tasks.

Credits to a few prompt-lists I found trawling the internet, but I lost the links, I’m sorry :( If you recognise any, please let me know and I will do proper credits x

Masterlist

“This was a terrible, terrible idea,” you think to yourself, as you survey the ‘damage’ in the dorm. Oh there’s nothing wrong with the state of the rooms - it’s the state of the boys themselves. Because of course what the company set up as a cooking and eating game for a V Live descended into a drinking game the minute the main staff left. Yet it’s actually surprisingly easy to chase the younger ones off to bed. Which just leaves the eldest two: long-legged, sweet but slightly tipsy Seonghwa and their petite, treacherously-pretty but definitely-plastered leader Hong-Joong. Sizing up the levels of intoxication and seniority, You decide to tackle the slightly younger leader first.

“Bed, Hong-Joong!” you attempt, mustering up what you hope is a convincing ‘eomma’ vibe. Apparently you’re not very convincing though because he just squeals and bats you away.

“Ani! I’m leader! No bed!” he objects. “Anyway, I’m want to annoy Seonghwa first,” he announces, in endearingly grammatically-incorrect English, complete with a mischievous smile, before darting out of your reach and perching himself on the arm of the couch to watch his hyung record a ‘cute’ wake-up message for ATINY.

“I will show you the cute version,” Seonghwa tells his leader dutifully, cue card in hand, before turning towards the one waiting camera.

“Ani, I don’t want to see!!” wails Hong-Joong dramatically, collapsing off the arm of the couch onto the seat itself in apparent agony, with his eyes squeezed shut. “Argh! Jebal!” he yells, clearly determined to be a massive brat about poor Seonghwa’s task. He then proceeds to make ridiculous high-pitched noises while Seonghwa reads his message out, until Seonghwa cuts him off with a soft reprimand, knowing only he can use banmal with his leader: “Ah, keep quiet.” Hong-Joong obediently stops making noises, but then smirks unrepentantly when the older boy laughs at himself and stops the reading before screaming in frustration, himself, at the difficulty of his recording, making the now-quiet Hong-Joong snicker.

“Argh! I can’t do this!” Seonghwa laments. Noting that Hong-Joong has calmed down, he decides to ask him for some feedback on the instructions:

“What’s the difference between sexy and sensuous?” This gets Hong-Joong’s attention.

“Sexy? Ah, you don’t know?” he replies, springing up off the couch with drunken bravado, ready to show his hyung how it’s done. He staggers over to a very confused Seonghwa, who looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or worry.

“Sexy is...just...you see it…” he babbles meaninglessly. “This is sexy, this is sexy. If it’s sensuous...when you see it…” then gives him a somewhat-mystifying rendition of ‘sexy’ and mumbles "that's what I mean" before drifting out of the room and towards the stairs to their bedrooms, singing to himself. Seonghwa just stares after him, at a loss, then returns to his recording in peace. You give the older boy an encouraging smile, figuring he’s probably still sober enough to get himself up to bed, and then venture up to check on Hong-Joong. Only he’s not in his bedroom.

Sighing to yourself, you check the other boys’ rooms but then have to conclude that he’s in the bathroom, and there’s not much you can do there, except knock and call out to him if he’s still not out in ten minutes. So you head to your room, intending to get changed and prepare for bed. Only when you swing the door open, Hong-Joong is sprawled on his back, still fully dressed, in your bed - under the covers. You clear your throat pointedly.

“Excuse me, Hong-Joong? What are you doing in my bed?” you ask him, exasperatedly.

“I will try to seduce you, noona,” he tells you, in his adorably-accented, slightly off-kilter English, lovely long eyelashes fluttering coyly, as he sits up.

“Wha-I mean what…?” you stammer, assuming he’s just got his words tangled again. “Seduce?” You’re desperately trying to think of a plausible alternative, but your mind is drawing a blank from panic. Admittedly nothing innocent fits this scenario.

“Eung - yuhokhaeyo,” he affirms, nodding cutely.

“Um...you’re drunk, sweetheart,” you tell him, sitting tentatively by his side and patting his shoulder soothingly. You want to have misinterpreted him nearly as much as you want to take him up on his offer, but, despite his avowed attempt to ‘tempt’ you, in Korean parlance, you resist. He pouts a little and flings himself back onto his back, eyes fluttering shut again.

“Chwihaji anassoyo~~” [I’m not drunk] he whines, before switching back to English, frustrated at being misunderstood, as he sees it. “I just want...have sex with someone," he tries.

“Probably not the best time to have sex, really,” you point out, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing, as you don’t want to embarrass him or indeed give yourself away. He sits up suddenly, opens his eyes and fixes you with an intense stare. You falter, blush and lower your own eyes, but he puts a finger under your chin and gently lifts your face to look in your eyes.

“Will you...reconsider...if I am...sober?” he asks you, carefully, still in English.

“I don’t...I mean it’s probably not a great idea, tiger,” you caution him. “Wait though...are you...what are you saying...exactly?” you correct yourself, suddenly noticing that his cheeks are flushed almost the same shade as his strawberry-bangs and his eyes are avidly studying your duvet. He hums nervously, smoothing the duvet with his hand, but doesn’t answer or even look up at you. The realization hits you as all the pieces come together. “Chyeonyo-ye-yo?” [Are you a virgin?] you ask him softly, not wanting to embarrass him either way. He nods shyly, keeping his head and eyes down and pulling at a loose thread on the duvet as his cheeks flush even hotter.

“Wow...I mean...wow,” you falter. “I’m sorry honey, I really didn’t know,” you reassure him, slipping your hand under his, on the cover, with your palm facing up. After a moment, his fingers curl tentatively around your hand and you feel a shiver of desire run through you. “Well...um...maybe we can wait until you’ve sobered up and then we can try and find you...I mean find a way to help you get...um...erm...laid,” you finish awkwardly, feeling like his innocence is being violated by the very thought of it. But then you remember he was the one who asked, so perhaps he’s not that innocent - at least of lustful thoughts.

“Laid?” he asks you now, reigniting your reluctance to contact one of the professionals the company usually engages for this kind of service.

“Er...laid is a slang term for...for um…” you stall.

“Sex?” Hong-Joong chirps brightly, looking pleased with himself and finally catching your eye, now that he feels he has something to be pleased with himself about - his English ability.

“Yeah, sex,” you admit reluctantly. “Look, Joong, are you sure about this?” you ask him.

“Ne,” he whispers, leaning towards you expectantly and closing his eyes again.

“Wow! No, no, no!” you deter him, hurriedly, gently moving him back against the headboard of your bed. “No, I meant are you sure you want me to find someone to have sex with you?” He pouts and opens his eyes - this time holding your gaze.

“I want,” he hesitates, checking your eyes, “to...to?” You nod, assuming he’s just checking his grammar. “I want to have sex with you, noona. Right now,” he tells you firmly, nodding for emphasis. You’re already shaking your head, but you stand up and pull him up with you to add some weight to your refusal of this proposal.

“No. You’re not losing your virginity when you’ve been drinking and might regret it tomorrow - or possibly not even remember it, from the looks of you,” you tease him gently. “C’mon - come back to your room and get some sleep.” He shakes his head vehemently, tossing his hair petulantly and stamps his foot.

“Kiseu-haejwo~~” [Kiss me] he whines, stubbornly refusing to move when you tug at his arm.

“It’s not happening, honey,” you sigh.

“But you call me honey,” he persists, tossing his hair away from his eyes to wink at you provocatively, and sticking his tongue out for good measure.

“Yeah. I did,” you admit, sighing again at his persistence. “But it’s just a general term of endearment, like...sweetheart.”

“Call me jagiya,” he flirts, deliberately fluttering his amazing eyelashes at you.

“Kim Hong-Joong!” you warn him in a furious whisper. He ignores you, quickly grabs your chin in both of his hands and presses his lips to yours before you can stop him. Startled, you just let him kiss you, until he teases your lips open and slips his tongue into your mouth.

“No-no-no-no-no! Bad, bad, boy!” you tell him firmly, pushing him away with both hands. He just giggles and tries again, but this time you’re ready for him and put your hand against his chest to keep him back. “Right. Bed! Right now...go!” you stammer, fumbling your words as you try to stop yourself from shaking...or wanting to feel his lips on yours again. He smirks, grabs you around the waist this time and slams you up against the wall to kiss you again. This time with no prelude, just straight up making out. You hesitate for a fraction of a second, but then push him away again.

He stops but only to lick his own lip experimentally. “Mm...you taste like fucking candy,” he teases you, with another wink, moving back in for the kill.

“What are you doing?!” you demand, stopping him again. “Behave! You’ll get me fired!”

“I won’t!” he pouts.

“You most certainly will,” you correct him. “If there was a camera in my room, I’d be packing my bags already.”

“Really?” he asks, looking genuinely worried this time. You nod fervently. “Staff have to sign contracts as well, you know,” you explain. “I’m sorry, honey. Look, let’s get you back to your room before the others start looking for you to finish that mission, okay? He gives you a resentful, sulky look, but obediently exits your room, where you hear his dainty footsteps padding across to his bedroom and his door open and close, just before Seonghwa comes up the stairs looking for him. Trying not to panic at how close that was, you peel your clothes off and start to prepare for bed.

*************************************************

So you really shouldn’t be surprised when he endeavours to make your job incredibly difficult the next day. Seems, contrary to the saying, hell hath no fury like a kpop idol scorned. Worse, you already have to explain the day’s schedule to eight boys in various stages of hangover hell. Fortunately, in most cases it’s more a matter of keeping them awake and attentive, but Hong-Joong’s idea of revenge is yelling things and making distracting noises throughout the entire meeting. By the time you’re on the last round of explanations and he starts to object, you throw caution to the wind and slap your hand straight over his pretty mouth.

“If you interrupt me one more time, Hong-Joong, so help me God...” you warn him, through clenched teeth. He watches you fake-innocently over your hand, while the others come around long enough to snicker conspiratorially at the sight of their leader being chastised. You remove your hand, but continue giving him a warning look, then finish explaining the schedule and shoo them all into hair and makeup, overriding their pleading cries of ‘feeling sick’ and ‘wanting to go back to bed’ with the reminder that they got themselves into this mess, and that tomorrow is a free day, so they only need to keep it together for the rest of today before they’ll win a break.

They’re filing dutifully out of the cars, having had the luxury of a camera-less ride to the studio, Hong-Joong looking very pleased with his freshly-dyed bright blue bangs, when San and Wooyoung decide to accost you.

“What is it, Wooyoung?” you ask, eyeing a grinning San off suspiciously.

“Hong-Joong-hyung is want to have sex with you, noona” the younger boy informs you smugly, in halting English. San nods sagely, confirming this apparently hot tip. You close your eyes and sigh exasperatedly, trying not to show them that either a) you know this or b) you’re equally problematically attracted to their leader.

“Okay even if he did...which I doubt,” you begin, keeping your voice calm with difficulty. “Why on earth would he tell you two that?” you ask.

“He tell all members,” San updates you gleefully, before reverting to Korean to elaborate: “We were sharing TMI facts for games.”

“Great. That’s great,” you tell them sarcastically. “And on what planet does he think that information would be an appropriate TMI to share?”

“Oh he doesn’t...he was just really intoxicated by then,” Wooyoung giggles.

“This just gets better and better,” you marvel.

“Are you going to yell at him again, noona?” Wooyoung asks you, trying to contain his obvious glee. San watches seemingly impassively, but you can see the anticipation in his eyes. You narrow your own.

“So how do I know you two aren’t just making this up for a prank? Or to get your leader in more trouble?” you ask, pretending to be suspicious.

“Ask the others,” San shrugs. “Or ask him.” This throws you and they can sense it, which understandably deepens their curiosity and makes you panic.

"Fine. Tell him to come see me once you're done with the radio slot," you tell them, attempting to call their bluff.

It doesn't quite go according to plan though. You’re just thinking you've maybe impressed the gravity of the situation on Ateez's leader when he interrupts you with characteristic sass, but careful to stick to jondaemal: “Noona, jebal geuman malhago kiseuhae julraeyo?” [Noona, would you please stop talking and kiss me?]. Thank God you were prescient enough to talk to him alone. You stare at him open-mouthed.

“You...what...did you hear anything I just said!?” you demand. He nods, cutely, swinging his shoulders with his hands clasped together in front of him to complete the innocent look, and shoots you a come-hither look, through his eyelashes.

“So um...if you heard me, did you understand me?” you check, wishing your Korean was more fluent for situations like this.

“Yes, I understand,” he murmurs in English, his voice husky.

“So why…” you try, with another sigh. “Why did you still ask for a kiss?” He shrugs, pouts, pushes the toe of his boot into the leg of the couch he’s standing beside then flops heavily into it with a deeply wounded sigh. You follow suit, seating yourself on the other couch. Hong-Joong keeps his head lowered and stays silent, occasionally adjusting his eyelashes with his pointer finger until you have to ask, against your better judgment, but you feel bad for rejecting him:

“Gwaenchanaeyo, Joong?”

He sniffs disconsolately, plays with his eyelashes again, and shakes his head with a little hiccoughing sob. Well now you feel really bad, but this is a no-win situation.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, sweetheart,” you try, softening your voice. He nods, quickly, acknowledging your words, but swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. You hold back a sigh of exasperation, and move to sit by him on his couch, tentatively placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Joong - don’t be like that,” you plead. “These aren’t my rules. But even if there weren’t rules...you’re so young. Don’t you want your first time to be with someone else your age. Who maybe can share the...the experience with you?” You try not to picture how it will more likely go if you arrange something for him, but push the thought away, pretending to yourself that the company can somehow make it romantic for him.

“Ani,” he sulks, head still lowered and blueberry bubblegum bangs spilling over his face. “I want you to kiss me.” He finally lifts his head and fixes you with his big, dark eyes. “Jebal,” he begs, voice breaking a little. “Only once, then I stop asking,” he bargains, in English, picking up on the subtle change in your expression. You sigh, close your eyes, and put your head in your hands, steeling yourself. You can feel Hong-Joong’s eyes on you. You can almost feel his heart thumping in his chest as he waits nervously for an answer.

“Okay,” you agree reluctantly, knowing in your heart of hearts that, despite his words, it won’t stop here. “On one condition. You are not to tell anybody ever.” He nods obediently, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Okay then...Where am I kissing you?”

He is already facing you in anticipation, his hands neatly on his thighs and his eyes shut so you can see those glorious eyelashes resting on his cheeks. The tiniest tracks of his tears stain his pretty face, and his lips are parted, ready for his requested kiss. But he opens his eyes at the question, confused.

“Right here,” he tells you, cocking his head to the side. You laugh softly.

“No. Where on yourself do you want to be kissed?” you amend.

“Oh…” he is a little flustered by the question. “On…” he touches his lips. “On my mouth,” he requests. You smile at his innocence.

“Okay. Close your eyes again,” you tell him. He does so obediently and you lean across to kiss him softly, but sensuously, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth, and tangle it with yours. He wraps his arms around your waist, and you twine yours around his neck, turning your head on the side to allow him to sate his appetite on you. You only stop him, gently, when his hands sneak around towards your chest.

“There you go,” you murmur, extricating yourself reluctantly from his embrace. “Happy?”

“Yes,” he breathes, but he looks distinctly the opposite. “Noona? I...I have to go,” he tells you. You’re a bit taken aback, but you nod to him and let him up and he darts out of the room without a backwards glance. ‘Oh boy - this is gonna be fun’ you think to yourself, before leaving the little studio lounge to go round the other boys up.

You leave Hong-Joong until last, to give him some privacy to sort out his presumably mixed emotions, but it gets to the point that you really need them all in the cars, so you have to resort to checking the private recording booths, though you can’t imagine why he would be in one of them without booking it, and of course the bathrooms - which you plan to leave until absolute last. You ask the others if they’ve seen him, but they all shrug at you innocently. Finally Yeosang remembers that he saw their leader go upstairs to the sleeping pods. Thanking him exasperatedly, you jog up the stairs and then enter the space quietly, knowing that idols use it to recuperate between scheduled events. Most of the pods seem to be empty though, and it’s only when your ears adjust that you hear Hong-Joong’s voice and feel your cheeks flush.

At least he’s not sleeping, you reason, so you won’t have to wake him, but the sharp little intakes of breath and the quiet moans you hear make you think waking him would be infinitely less trouble. Still...if he’s with someone, at least now you won’t have to find him a date. You slide the door across, preparing yourself to chastise him at least a little, for form’s sake, but he’s alone. And boy, does he look guilty when he catches your eye. After a brief deer-caught-in-headlights moment, he freaks out completely, squeals loudly and throws himself commando-style off the further side of the little camp-bed, re-emerging adorably with the top of his face peeping over the mattress at you.

“Hong-Joong?! Are you alright?" you laugh. He nods and gives you cute v-fingers over his eyes and a mischievous smile. "Erm, good...what were you...wait were you just getting yourself off?” you ask him, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop yourself and wishing he didn’t look quite so delectable - kneeling up on his shins, chest heaving, with his hair dishevelled, lips just parted and eyes at half-mast and his arms awkwardly crossed across his crotch.

“U-uh...no...I was just…” he stammers, deeply unconvincingly, despite the tinkling sound of the buckle of his jeans belt dangling against the side of his leg.

“Okay, so the second car is leaving and you need to get yourself down there quick smart before it leaves without you,” you tell him, choosing to leave the subject.

“Or…?” he asks you, a little panicked. You hesitate, not wanting to give him any ideas. But it’s going to be just as awkward if you make him come downstairs with you right now.

"Or we'll have to arrange another way to get you home," you concede. "Look, just...fix yourself up. I'll work something out and come back for you. "

***********************************************

So this is the series of racy events that leads to you finding yourself in the back of a taxicab on the way back to the dorm from Hongdae, slightly the worse for the soju, with an endearingly tipsy Hong-Joong’s pretty head in your lap, using all your self-control to ignore the tantalizing effect of the incredibly illicit kisses that he is bestowing on your stockinged thighs whilst he’s meant to be ‘resting’.

“Joong, stop it! I’m warning you,” you chastise him for probably the twelfth time since you’ve clambered into this cab together. “I cannot believe you talked the staff into having me chaperone you for a night out on the town.” You don’t add that neither you nor they would have gone along with this if they’d had any idea whatsoever of his intentions. But lucky for him, you obviously weren’t going to tell on him and you gather the other boys had his back as well. Now however, you’re not entirely sure the scope for gossip won’t kill them.

Thank God, the taxi makes it back to the dorm before he can test you any further, and you jump out of the backseat to pay the driver, before helping Hong-Joong out and guiding him inside and up to his bedroom, where he spins around in a sort of pirouette before flinging himself onto his bed with a cute giggle.

“I look pretty today, don’t I, noona?” he checks with you, preening a little.

“Very pretty,” you assure him, careful to keep the tone of your voice neutral.

“No, you’re teasing me, noona~~” he whines. “Say it properly that I look pretty.” He shakes his head, making his long, silver earrings dance and jump.

“You look pretty, Hong-Joong-oppa~,” you tell him, with an aegyo flourish, before rolling your eyes teasingly at him and he laughs, loudly, with his hand in front of his mouth, then hits you playfully, in that adorable fashion he has. You give up on any pretence that he’s not dangerously close to getting his way, what with your guard being down and the soju still buzzing through you.

“Are you trying to turn me on, or are you really just that oblivious?” you ask him, wryly. His eyes go wide, unsure if he’s just understood you correctly.

“Mwo?” he chirrups.

“You heard me,” you purr, leaning forward to kiss him lingeringly. He responds immediately, arms coming around you to pull you against him and lips moving against yours eagerly, before you feel his tongue searching for yours. You kiss for a while, but when he lays down and pulls you over on top of him, you stop him.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh. “I think we need to stop now, before someone gets hurt.” You stand up reluctantly, and give him what you plan to be one last kiss, tugging at his bottom lip gently with your teeth, before you pull away. He clings to you, kissing your jawline and then your neck, but you extricate yourself and stand up, making his face fall and his pretty smile merge into a pout.

“Wae, noona~?” he sulks, cute.

“Did you honestly think your devious little plot would work?” you tease him. “Whatever happened to ‘I won’t ask anymore once I get one kiss,’ hmm? You’ve had way more than one kiss, Joong...it’s time to move on back to reality now,” you tell him, sadly, turning to go. He sighs his defeat, letting his shoulders sink and making you wish fervently that you could just hold him and make him feel all better. You honestly can’t think of a reason that one of the professionals the company can hire for him will make him feel any more of a man than you could right now. And just as you’re mulling it over, reluctant to take your final leave, he lets his gaze rake you from head to foot, winks provocatively, and then bites his lip with a little ‘c'mere’ tilt of his chin.

“Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip?” you ask him, rhetorically. “‘Cause, you know what? If you did, then, fuck the rules. We’re having sex. Right now.” This time he manages not to give himself away completely, but his eyebrows go up and he swallows hard. He rearranges himself nervously on the bed as you check his door, making sure it’s locked. When you turn your attention back to Hong-Joong, you almost have second thoughts. He has arranged himself carefully, so that his shirt is open half-way to his waist, exposing most of his chest but artfully concealing his nipples, and he's leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him to give you the best possible view. His head is tilted, eyes lowered, and his slender neck looks impossibly delicate, wrapped in a black silk choker. He smiles bewitchingly and dares a look up through his lashes when you walk over to him and sit on the edge of his bed.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Hong-ssi?” you ask him softly.

“Yes!” he tells you firmly.

“Really?” you confirm. “Because you seem...maybe a little shy?” you try gently, putting your hand on his to try and help him relax.

“I have a little...little nervous,” he explains, bravely, in English, showing you with his fingers pinched together how ‘little’ the little bit of nervousness is.

“Oh - ginjanghaessoyo?” you check, in Korean. He nods quickly, blushing. You put your hand on his cheek and give him a light kiss. “Well, you don’t need to be. I promise I’ll look after you. And I’m sure you’ll do great for your first time. Still good?” Another nod. “Now, remember just tell me anytime if you want to stop, okay?” you instruct him. “I won’t be annoyed.”

“Okay,” he says with a bright smile.

“And you don’t need to be shy about making noise either, okay? If it feels good, you let me know and I will do the same. It makes it more fun,” you add, with a wink. He giggles, bites his lip and then nods again. “Now c’mere, you sexy little thing,” you tell him, hooking your arm around his waist to pull him closer, and kissing him lingeringly. He moans softly into your mouth and you reward him by deepening the kiss and letting your other hand stray inside his open shirt to play with one of his nipples. He gasps and then moans again, his lips still attached to yours and his tongue exploring your mouth with swiftly-growing passion. You keep kissing him, but press him back onto the bed properly, so that you can straddle his thighs.

“Where do you want me to kiss you next?” you ask him, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way, and pulling it open, so that you can stroke his naked chest.

“Odiena,” [everywhere] he begs, writhing impatiently under your touch and tossing his head on the pillows in an agony of anticipation. You laugh softly.

“I can’t kiss you everywhere at once,” you object. “Give me a clue...” You let one hand stray back to his nipples, making him arc his back, then you let your other hand deliberately brush the front of his pants, making him buck his hips up to press himself against your fingers.

“Seems like you’re having trouble deciding,” you tease him, letting your lower hand run the length of his still-clothed erection but bending your head towards his chest. You don’t let him get away with it that easily though, swerving at the last second to whisper into his ear:

“Why don’t you show me what you were doing in that booth upstairs this afternoon?”

“I...I wasn’t…” he stammers, blushing and nervously playing with his eyelashes.

“You were though, weren’t you?” you say. “That’s why you ran off when I kissed you. Do you have any idea how much catching you like that turned me on?”

“Oh jinjja?” he asks, surprised, but clearly flattered.

“Mmhm,” you assure him. “C’mon...let me see your jaji...I mean it feels pretty sexy,” you tell him, curling your fingers around the outline of it through his jeans. “Besides, do you honestly think I’ve been able to concentrate on anything all day while you’ve been teasing me while looking like a whole snack with this new hair?” you ask him, undoing his belt and jeans as you speak. He giggles, then self-consciously pushes his bangs back from his face and gives you another of his very pretty smiles but then hisses through his teeth and moans softly as you release his erection from his boxer-briefs and start to stroke him.

“But it’s you who tease me now, noona,” he complains, kissing you until you’re frantic for him. “You make fun by saying me all this things,” he elaborates, his breath getting more and more shallow as you speed up your strokes and his hips follow along by instinct, a thin trickle of precum leaking from his tip and making him groan helplessly.

“I’m not teasing you, babe,” you reassure him. “Every time you’ve caught my eye today, every time you’ve shown off these lovely assets of yours,” you stop caressing his cock to run your fingers longingly over his lips, then along his clavicle and then down over his hip, making him arc into your touch again… “I’ve wanted you more and more. But I’ve known that despite every inch of me aching for you, I’m not allowed to have you. You got teased by the others for saying you look pretty today? Well I think that you look not just pretty but also hot and very sexy. But I’m not supposed to tell you that. I’m not even supposed to think that,” you murmur, running your tongue over his bottom lip and eliciting a needy whine from deep in his throat. “But I don’t care anymore, Hong-Joong-ah...I want you so badly.” You kiss him again and he responds eagerly, but chastely, making you melt at his angelic sweetness.

After a moment, you reach for his cock again and start to pump your hand up and down it, but he flinches, so you pull back straight away, noting that his cheeks are aflame with blushes.

“Would you like to stop?” you check with him, keeping your voice soft and gentle.

“Ani, ani,” he stammers, waving his hand to show he just needs to catch his breath. “I just worry that I...will make a mess everywhere...too soon,” he attempts to explain.

“Oh! You’re worried you’re going to cum soon?” you check. He nods, embarrassed. “That’s okay, jagi…” you tell him. “We can slow down for a little while if you like?” He nods again, quickly this time, smiling at you sweetly when you deliberately use the term he had asked you for earlier. You let him fix himself up and then curl into your arms against the pillows with his head on your chest. You lay together quietly for a little while, kissing occasionally, as you play idly with his blueberry-bangs.

You’re just starting to count your blessings, thinking he’s actually drifting off to sleep after all and you can escape, leaving both his pride and his virginity intact, as his limbs start to feel heavier and his breathing slows towards sleeping pace. But then, just as you begin to gently disentangle yourself, he hooks your leg with his to stop you escaping, rolls over to press his hips against yours and then kisses you rather too passionately. You give in straight away this time, kissing him back with a ferocity to rival his own, and wrapping your legs up around his waist.

He pulls away a little, clearly unsure how to proceed, and kneels up between your legs to watch you, biting his lip again, but this time with a truly unconscious innocence of how sexy he looks. He tilts his head on the side, and then cautiously runs his hands up your sides, apparently not daring to do more. You smile at him and nod discreetly, but he just blushes again and clears his throat nervously.

“It’s okay, Hong-ssi,” you reassure him. “I won’t bite, and I’m not going to stop you anymore tonight. Just follow your instincts. You look like you maybe want to undress me?” you suggest. “Go on then, go ahead.” You smile again, trying to put him at ease, then raise your hand to his cheek and sit up to kiss him messily. You feel him smile and then his hands come up to peel the straps of your top off your shoulders and down your arms.

“Mmm…” you murmur against his lips, shifting to allow him to undo the front of your top, then wriggling a little to help him remove the whole thing, so that you’re kissing him in only your bra and skirt. “Mmff...keep going, jagiya,” you encourage him, lifting his hand back up to your bra straps. You let him struggle with your bra while you get to work on removing his shirt properly and undoing his jeans again. You know you could help him, but you kind of sense it’s better to let him make any mistakes that he’s going to make now, while he’s in a safe environment where he won’t be judged if he’s not perfect at everything. He makes a cute little frustrated noise as he tries to figure out the clasp, but then another pleased noise when he manages to get your bra off, but you pretend not to notice and just let him have his moment, sliding the garment off, then pulling you into his arms again, against his naked chest.

You kiss the tip of his nose, then tease his jeans carefully off his hips and down his thighs, letting him kick and yank them the rest of the way off until he’s kneeling on his bed in front of you, blushing but eager, in only his boxer briefs. You lean across and start to tease kisses from his knee, working your way up his thigh towards his thinly-veiled erection.

“Oh, jebal~,” he begs you, trying to move his leg so that you will come higher.

“Jebal? Mwo, jebal?” you murmur, wanting him to say it. “What do you want me to do?”

“Kiss...kiss,” he breathes, still in a pleading voice.

“Kiss? I’m already kissing…” you tease him, tickling his skin with your tongue now, and allowing your lips to dance ever nearer to the bottom leg-line of his panties. He moans, much louder now, and you let your other hand dip into his waistband to just barely skim the silky head of his cock. His moans intensify and he slams his head inadvertently back against the headboard of his bed, startling you a little, but not as much as he startles himself. He winces then rubs the back of his head with his hand and gives you a slightly hurt look.

“Yah, noona~” he whines. “You know what I’m mean. I want you to please...put my...my [he gives up and opts for the Korean when he can’t think of the English] je jaji...into your mouth,” he explains in a pouting almost-aegyo tone. You kinda want to tease him a little longer, but frankly you can never resist him when he talks in pout, even when the stakes are this high. And, judging by his sparkling eyes, he knows it too.

Trying not to hurt him, you pull his boxer-briefs carefully away from his erection and lick his shaft from balls to tip like an icecream. He shudders and another long, low moan escapes his body as his hands clutch his bedsheets. You raise your head to take him in your mouth, gently moving one of his hands to place it on the back of your head and indicating he should let you know how fast he needs you to go. Arcing into you, he presses his hand against the back of your head, needing you to speed up, which you do, using your free hand to hold him steady and being careful to keep your teeth behind your lips. After an interval of his pretty moans and your jaw starting to feel it, his hips dance, and he swears under his breath, in Korean.

“Wait-stop-stop!” he yelps, trying to pull away, but it’s too late and his voice trembles into another prolonged groan as you taste his warm jizz flooding your tongue. “Oh, shibal, mianhamnida,” [fuck, sorry] he stammers, mortified. You ignore his sweet objections and lick him clean, then pull him down by your side and let him cuddle shyly into you with his face turned into the crook of your neck.

“Noona?” he asks, squeezing your waist with his arm.

“What is it, Joong?” you murmur sleepily, the soju finally settling in your veins.

“Please stay here with me?” he requests. You sigh, afraid to tell him.

“No, no - that’s too much, doll,” you try to cushion the blow with a finger under his chin and a soft kiss on his lips. “I have to go back to my room, now that the damage is done.”

“But you say...well...we are going to have sex,” he pouts.

“And we did, you little minx,” you tell him, but he is already shaking his head, cheeky.

“Ani. I still am...virgin,” he corrects you defiantly, pleased with himself for remembering the English word.

“You’re still? Wow...you’re really going to go for the literal definition, are you?,” you laugh quietly at his sass. “Well, you may find you need to recharge a little first,” you sigh, giving in. He veritably purrs at this update and you see a devilish grin slip across his lips, though he keeps his eyes tightly squeezed shut, making you marvel anew at his beautiful eyelashes, by this stage of the evening innocent of eyelash-curlers or mascara, yet still works of art in themselves.

You cuddle up together for another small interval, but this time you realize that you must have drifted off to sleep yourself, when you open your eyes to find the sun peeking over the horizon outside. You smile to yourself when you notice Hong-Joong slumbering sweetly, completely naked in your arms, but you’re not sure how to disentangle yourself without waking him again. You manage to edge yourself out of his embrace, get your top back on and locate your bra but when you turn to give him one last longing look, he is propped up on one arm, eyes blearily open and watching you resentfully. He opens his mouth to say something and you swiftly close the distance between the two of you, to put a finger to his lips.

“You trick me,” he whispers fiercely. You try not to laugh at his indignant tone.

“I didn't, sweetheart! I fell asleep, same as you,” you defend yourself.

“So we have sex now?” he asks you, yawning and covering his mouth politely. You shake your head at him with amused incredulity.

“We can’t now,” you tell him. “There’s no way people won’t find out. It’s morning.” He just shrugs and tries to pull your skirt off.

“I don’t care,” he informs you cheekily, switching to an attempt to remove your top when you intervene with his attempt to remove your skirt. “If we are...balli-balli...[quickly - if you go fast] then we not wake members,” he bargains.

“Okay, okay! My gosh, you’re persistent,” you marvel, drawing him into your arms and kissing him. He deepens the kiss, tugging at your lip with his teeth in the sweetest punishment as his hands work quickly to remove the rest of your clothes.

“Hey - where’s that shy boy from last night?” you tease him, but he just sticks his tongue out at you and taps your legs, making you spread them so that he can climb between them. He’s all masterful confidence until you feel his erection tickling the inside of your thighs and he pauses, on his hands and knees, looking at you nervously. You run your hands along his body and down onto his hips and pull him forward.

“Ah - there’s our shy boy! It’s okay, jagi,” you reassure him, wrapping your legs up around him and lifting your hips to meet him. He kisses you under the jawline, and lets his hands stray towards your chest, so you drop your hand down to guide his cock to rest against your already-wet folds, then give your hips a little thrust so that he slips in. He gasps and thrusts his own hips instinctively, then you grab them and pull him the rest of the way forward, simultaneously eliciting a jagged moan from his lips and sighing with relief yourself, as he slides right up inside you, making you call out his name. He moans your name back to you, then finally starts to rock his hips back and forward, his breath coming hotter and faster against your neck as his moans get louder and more urgent.

“Aigoh! Ai-ai-yuh...uh! Aiohhohh!” he vocalizes shamelessly as he gets more and more caught up in your lovemaking, until he appears to have forgotten his surroundings. You surrender to him completely, kissing and caressing every part of him that you can reach.

“Oh-uh...pokbalhaga naol got gatayo~” [I feel like I’m going to explode] he confesses as his hips start to reach jackhammer speed.

“Oh, jinjja?” you gasp. He moans in the affirmative into your neck. “Do it, jagi. Cum inside me!” you gasp. His hands force you to speed up to his pace and his lovely voice climbs high enough to definitely have caught the attention of the other members.

“Oh shib!” he groans, his lips parted and his eyes at half-mast in a perfect mask of sexual gratification. “Oh...oh ne...oh fuck...Do you think…” he pants out “they can...hear us?”

“Yes we can!” hollers WooYoung from behind the wall, his voice indicating that he’s been wanting to object since the beginning of this latest tryst. “Please stop already! We’re happy for you hyung but honestly, we’re trying to sleep too, you know?!” he elaborates. Shaking your head at WooYoung’s lack of tact, you grab Hong-Joong’s sexy, taut ass in your hands, kiss him fiercely on the lips and lift your hips to a higher angle, letting him penetrate you even further. His hips do a final dance and you feel him cum up inside you, before collapsing next to you on his back, chest heaving and one arm flung across his face, while the other pulls you close.

“Better?” you ask him, cuddling against his side.

“Mmm....ne...much better,” he affirms, sighing contentedly.

#ateez #ateez fluff #ateez smut #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong angst #hongjoong smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fic

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (chapter 10 - FINALE)

series masterlist

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 6k

warnings: implied smut, angst, fluff, romcom tropes, lots of swearing, pregnancy mention/minor breeding kink

note: click the asterisk for a hyperlink to a translation when the time comes

Six months later...

“It’s good!” she beamed, setting down the last chunk of pages and taking off her reading glasses. “Oh man, that ending hurt, but it’s really, really good!”

You leaned back into the plush chair and sighed with relief. “You think so?”

“It’s best-seller material,” she assured. “With some editing, of course. God, I can’t believe you were sitting on this for so long.”

“What are the biggest changes you want to make?” you asked.

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll cut the romantic subplot,” she mentioned in passing, like it was no big deal. “It’s distracting.

“Distracing?” you repeated. “Nia, it’s the story. It’s a romance.”

“I thought it was a thriller,” she frowned.

“A romance disguised as a thriller,” you corrected.

“Listen, I get what you mean, but I didn’t get this—” she tapped the nameplate on her desk: ‘NIA BROWN, HEAD PUBLISHER’ in shiny letters— “for nothing. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what your readers want. Violence, gore, drama!”

“It has all that!” you defended. “But it’s all there to talk about the real love he finds in her!”

“What do you mean ‘real love’?” she pressed flatly.

“I mean…” you pondered. “I mean love where you feel like a version of yourself that you actually like. Love where you feel unjudged, no precedents or caveats or back-up plans. Love that fucking hurts because you never wanted to rely on anything or anybody. Love that lives in silence because you don’t even need words.”

She furrowed her brow. “That… sounds nice, I guess, but I don’t think anybody really has that. Everybody needs a back-up plan. Everybody needs words— a writer should know that.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you groaned, your face falling into your hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, I’m a moron.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I had that! I had that, and I let it go! I’m the dumbest bitch on the fucking face of the Earth.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, but you were already standing up.

“No, I need to find him,” you decided as you grabbed your coat and briefcase. “I need to go back and try to fix this. I love him, I’ve never— I didn’t know I could love like that, I didn’t know I could be loved like that… oh my god, I need to find him. It isn’t over.”

“It isn’t over?” she repeated incredulously. “You said Michael signed the papers!”

“It’s not Michael,” you rolled your eyes as you stormed out of the office. “It was never Michael.”

You ran into the first telephone box you could find, slamming the door shut as you searched your purse for the business card that probably wasn't even in there.

After a moment, you gasped with delight when you pulled it from a very bottom pocket and began punching in the number as fast as possible with shivering hands, long-distance charges be damned.

“Hello?” the confused voice on the other end answered.

“Mrs. Alberti, hi— does Sebastian still work for you?” you asked hastily.

“No, dear," she sighed, apparently recognizing you by just your voice (and likely your request), "he quit recently, and moved away.”

“Moved?" you repeated with a wrinkled brow. "Where?!”

“I assume back home, sweetheart; to Bucharest.”

“Shit,” you sighed. “Shit!”

“Are you having your ‘run through the airport’ moment, sweetheart?” she realized.

“Yes, I think so— do you have his address?”

“Well, no, but I’ll see what I can find.”

You waited rather impatiently as she shuffled through papers in the background, mumbling to herself as she apparently searched for information that could help you.

“All I’ve got is the address of a previous employer… a carpenter,” she finally explained, breaking the silence. “It was his only reference when he came to work here," she explained.

"Wow, you really did just hire him for his looks," you blurted out.

"He was desperate for work, that boy had nowhere else to go,” she defended.

“Right, well, I guess if that’s my only lead then I’ve gotta go for it,” you decided. “Thank you, Mrs. Alberti.”

“I told you to call me when that book was a hit. Did it happen yet?” she piped up.

“It’s not published yet,” you explained. “It needs some more work… but I think it’s almost ready.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

Learn Romanian in 10 Weeks! A practical language guide.

Week 1, Day 1: Greetings

Hello Salut

Goodbye La revedere

Thank you Mulțumesc

You’re welcome Cu plăcere

Good morning Bună dimineata

Good afternoon Bună ziua

Good evening Bună seara

Good night Noapte bună

You brushed your hair back out of your face with a sigh, turning the page as you mumbled the phrases to yourself. Broken Hungarian and your high school education in Latin were not getting you as far with this as you had been hoping.

How are you? Ce mai faci

I love you Te iubesc

“Te iubesc, te iubesc, te iubesc,” you repeated over and over in a whisper.

Each day you had a new routine: practice Romanian for an hour, check flight prices online (or call the airline), research what you knew about Sebastian and the address Mrs. Alberti had given you, and then get back to practicing Romanian again.

Oh, and occasionally you worked on the edits Nia wanted for your manuscript. You were focusing on the minor changes— grammar errors, rearranging sentences— and putting off her big request for the removal and replacement of the romantic aspects. More than ever, they seemed like the most important thing the book had to offer.

You had a small apartment, just a place to sleep and shower really; much too small to fit everything you’d already taken from Michael’s house (you know, the one that used to be your house) along with what he’d shipped to you that you forgot before. He included a letter in the package as well. You threw it out, unopened.

Truthfully, you never really fully unpacked. As much as you realized you probably should, in order to really feel like you had a real home, you couldn’t bring yourself to empty your suitcases when you knew you’d be packing them again any day now.

You also realized how outrageous this all was. Ignoring the unlikelihood of even finding him in the first place, Sebastian probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you broke his heart, left, and then randomly tracked him down after over half a year. But to be totally transparent, you weren’t really doing this to get him back, necessarily. You knew that was probably never going to happen. You were doing this because you needed to try. You needed to go there, and get hurt, and come back knowing you did everything you could: you’d never be able to live with yourself if you did anything less than that.

You couldn’t start your new life until you had put everything else to bed. And if that meant being 100%, painfully certain that you and Sebastian could never be together, then that was just how it needed to be.

After two weeks of looking, there still weren’t any reasonable flights to Bucharest, so you booked another trip by train, figuring you could use the three day trip to brush up on the key Romanian phrases you were going to need as well as prepare your speech.

Yes, your plan was a speech. You didn’t have a back-up plan. You didn’t even have a return ticket back to London yet.

A passage by Yeats came to mind; But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

In all your life, you’d never understood before why someone would want to only have their dreams. But now, here you were… and yes, it felt terrifying and vulnerable and uncomfortably naked, but it felt pretty damn good, too.

With a sigh, you scribbled out the last sentence you’d written, tossing the trash paper aside. You looked up out the window at the scenery flying by in a blur, worried that if you didn’t look out from the train every once in a while you’d get motion sickness.

The sun was beginning to set already, the green of hills and trees tinted orange. You only indulged in it for a moment, though, before getting back to this god-forsaken speech you were deadset on finishing before you arrived in Bucharest tomorrow. At first, you’d figured the translating would be the most difficult part… but writing in English wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. You had so much to say, and suddenly so few words for any of it.

You’d probably done more editing on this than any of your novels combined; the crumpled up pages spilling out of your wastebasket were proof enough of that.

“And I’m a fucking writer!” you groaned aloud, to no one in particular. “How is anybody else supposed to be able to do this, if I can’t?”

Other people aren’t as emotionally constipated as you, the voice of your inner critic reminded you plainly, making you roll your eyes at yourself.

A rap at your door made you sit up straighter and turn around. A stewardess slid open the frosted glass slightly to give you a friendly smile. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of her accent. “Is that a Romanian accent?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded.

“So you’re fluent in Romanian and English,” you concluded.

“And Portuguese, yes ma’am,” she agreed.

“Could you come in here for a moment and help me translate something?”

She seemed slightly confused at the request but stepped forward, sliding the door most of the way shut behind her. Leaning beside you on the desk, she picked up your handwritten letter and blinked her wide, brown eyes a few times. You felt slightly embarrassed knowing she was reading such intimate thoughts, but that was how it felt the first time someone read anything you wrote so you were pretty much used to it by now.

“I usually ask the passengers what brings them to Bucharest,” she mumbled after a moment. “This is the most interesting thing so far. Am I reading this correctly, that you intend to confess your love to someone you met—” she scanned the page quickly— “during a vacation in Hungary?”

“Yup,” you smiled awkwardly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“And he doesn’t speak English?” she assumed; you nodded. “And… you don’t speak Romanian?”

You nodded again, and she breathed in and out quickly, sitting beside you as she stared at the letter.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she explained.

“Sorry for sucking you into the entropic vortex that is my life,” you chuckled.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she sighed, setting the letter down, and you laughed a little internally at the idea that she was worried about prying when she just read the most personal piece of writing you’d ever put to the page, “but do you think this is… enough? I mean, to build a relationship on?”

You just gave her a shrug. “I have no idea. But, you know, I spent my whole life worrying about stuff like that. I dated my husband for seven years before we got married, because I wanted to be sure. I was initially interested in him because he was successful and ambitious, and it made me feel like this was a really secure relationship that I could rely on. I double majored in English and Computer Science because I wanted a more stable career to fall back on in case being a writer didn’t work out, and even though it did, I’ve spent most of my career publishing what I thought people wanted to read instead of what I wanted to write, so I’d have a better shot at a good paycheck. I grew up thinking the best thing I could ever have was security. And now I’m divorced, watching my royalties shrink every month, more insecure in every way than I’ve ever been, and I’m realizing that the choices I made didn’t give me what I wanted. I gave up so much in the name of safety, and I let the one good thing I’d ever found go, so I could go back to being the same person I always was. I’m ready to settle again, if this doesn’t work… I’m ready to accept that this is just the way life goes, and be thankful that I got a taste of the kind of stuff I thought only existed in the sort of books I’d read but never write.”

She swallowed as she looked at you, and you felt your eyes water as you stared out the window towards the dimming scenery one more time, smiling at the sight of a distant village, a church with a steeple, vineyards and farms. Someone’s whole life is in that little town, you imagined, and they’re just watching your train go by like they see every other day.

“Sebastian gave me more security than I’d ever had before, even though the whole thing was such a ridiculous little whirlwind, and nothing like I ever imagined my life could be. But he made me want to be honest and raw and write sappy letters like the one you just read. He doesn’t have any money, at least as far as I know, and I haven’t known him for seven years, and on paper it makes no sense… but you would understand if you knew him. If you felt that joy that he radiates, if you saw him live his simple little life like it’s the best thing in the world. You would understand if you knew how much I needed this. You would understand if you had been just as miserable being who I’ve been for so long, and finally had a chance to be somebody you think you were maybe meant to be the whole time. So, if I never see him again, I hope I just get to thank him.”

You waited for her to say something, but furrowed your brow at the long moment of silence, looking back from the window finally and finding her staring at you with a tear running down her cheek. When you met her gaze, she quickly wiped it away with a sniffle and looked down at your desk again. “Let’s get to translating, shall we?” she announced with a half-smile.

You noticed the way the other passengers looked at you as everyone was in line to deboard from the train car; you stuck out like a sore thumb, since everybody else was carrying heavy luggage and all you had was a backpack.

In your defense, you really had no idea how to pack for a trip where you knew neither the duration nor the true final destination. So, it was mainly filled with your essentials, a few clothes for any kind of weather, and enough leu to buy anything else you needed along the way.

The stewardess was waving goodbye to everyone as they shuffled out into the train station, occasionally stopping to shake a hand or give directions to nearby destinations. When you were just about to pass by, though, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Good luck,” she whispered, holding you just a moment too long before pulling back and giving you an encouraging look. “If he doesn’t take you back, feel free to blame my translation… because if he knows what’s in your heart, I know he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part isn’t it?” you laughed weakly. “Thank you for your help. I guess if I come back alone for the return trip tonight, you’ll know how bad it went.”

“Then I hope I don’t see you again,” she winked.

It being a major train station and all, cabs were waiting around every corner so it was pretty easy to grab one and give them the address you already had written down for this exact purpose.

“This is pretty far,” the driver explained, “on the edge of town. Not a tourist spot.”

“Good, because I’m not a tourist,” you nodded, already only giving him half your attention as you pulled out the translated speech to practice.

“And you can afford this?” he pressed. You sighed and dug through your bag, pulling out a haphazard stack of bills and handing them through the plastic partition.

“Is this enough?” you asked, and he didn’t answer, just taking the money and starting the car as you smiled and leaned back in your seat.

As much as you had tried to convince yourself to not get your hopes up, the butterflies in your stomach felt more like whole birds at this point, demanding to break free as you practiced the words hand-written on the page over and over again, committing it all to memory.

“What are you reading?” the cab driver asked after several minutes.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, “sorry if I’m bothering you, you can turn on the radio.”

“No, it’s not bothering me, but what you are saying… it’s very odd. It sounds like something from a play, or movie,” he explained.

“Um, it’s not,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “But does it sound like it’s from a good movie? Like, if you heard a character say this to another character, would you think they should get together?”

“I… don’t know,” he answered, sounding confused. “I mean, it depends on what happened, right? How they met, how well they get along…”

So, you told him the whole story, as succinctly as possible (which is not very succinct at all). By the end, he was actually giving commentary as you spoke.

“Why the hell did you leave?” he interjected, clearly irritated with you. “You loved him!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough! I loved my husband too, and look how that turned out,” you defended.

“But that’s different. That was love for all the wrong reasons.”

“I promise, it felt very real at the time,” you shrugged.

“And now?” he countered. “You realize that this man— Sebastian, right?— is real.”

“I hope I’m right this time,” you offered. “But even if I am, he may not agree.”

The driver scoffed, taking a hand off the wheel to wave dismissively. “If he’s anything like you said, then he will still be completely in love with you. After all, you still feel the same way after all this time apart, don’t you?”

“If anything, I love him more every day,” you admitted, your heart beating quickly just to say it aloud.

“You know, when I met my wife, she was engaged to another man. He was rich, good-looking, and he wasn’t even a bad guy unlike this husband you describe. He was a good man, but he wasn’t right for her. They were… content together, but she wasn’t truly happy. Every night I would come to her window and beg her to marry me, because I knew that she knew we were meant for each other, but she was scared because her family wouldn’t approve and she would be a poor man’s wife.”

“How did you convince her to marry you instead?” you asked eagerly, sucked into the story already.

“I didn’t. On the day of the wedding, some people told me to go and break it up but I didn’t. I thought it would be wrong, to try to ruin her happiness and take it for myself by making a scene at the wedding. I realized she was her own woman and if she wanted to choose him, I had to let her. I had locked myself in my house, not wanting to see anyone that day, and she appeared at my door. I didn’t need to convince her because she knew the truth in her heart, and called off the wedding herself.”

“Wow,” you smiled.

“She was still in her dress!” he recalled with a hearty laugh. “She looked like an angel. We were married just a few days later. And next month will be thirty years,” he added as he lifted his left hand to show the golden band on his finger.

“Thirty years, that’s… a long time,” you sighed.

“It wasn’t always easy,” he admitted. “But it was always worth it.”

Just as you wondered what you could possibly say to that, you felt the car slow down to a stop.

“This is the address you gave me, this is it,” he explained, pointing out his passenger-side window. You leaned up against the glass and gasped in dawning fear as you saw the storefront dark and empty inside.

“No, nonono,” you whispered rapidly to yourself as you swung open the door and hopped out, pressing your face against the glass to try to get a look inside and finding what was undeniably a closed carpentry business. There was a note on the door, taped on the inside of the glass, and you knew enough Romanian to know it said something about a vacation and three months.

“Shit!” you yelped, holding your face in your hands, wondering if your journey had come to an end before it really began.

“Are you alright?” the driver asked, rolling down his window to speak to you.

“This was my only lead, I don’t have his real address,” you explained. “He used to work here, I thought maybe someone would know him…”

He sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “Get back in, we can search nearby. You came too far to give in yet.”

But getting back in the car felt like giving in, too, which you realized as you looked back at the note taped to the carpenter's door. This was the closest you'd gotten, and it felt wasteful to leave with nothing.

Just as you were ready to hop in the passenger seat and start searching aimlessly through suburban Bucharest, or maybe look around for a Romanian yellow pages, you heard a noise from behind you, across the street; a laugh. His laugh. But it couldn’t be because it was too good to be true… and yet you found yourself whipping your head around and hoping beyond all reason that it was Sebastian.

Across the street was a restaurant, with a large patio where patrons were dining and chatting as they sat at wrought iron tables, and your eyes searched the crowd for any signs of him.

And then your gaze landed on a head of thick brunette hair, red and gold highlights so obvious now when the sunlight hit it this way. Broad shoulders wrapped in a white button-up shirt. He was facing away from you but he was looking to the side so you could see his face; he was smiling, laughing at something someone had said. And it was his smile that you recognized; it was like everything else faded away, and in that moment you thought maybe you could almost be happy with just this, just seeing him be happy even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Sebastian,” you called out to him, but he didn’t react. “Sebastian!”

His whole body turned, his eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but let the tears well in your eyes as you ran across the road to him.

He looked, understandably, stunned, and you realized he was actually waiting on a table at the moment; he said something to them, apparently excusing himself, and stepped closer to you.

But he stopped walking, not coming any closer, not exactly dragging you into his arms like you might've preferred, but with a breath to try to soothe your racing mind, you summoned your memories of the practiced letter and began. *

“Când am venit în Ungaria…” you started slowly, doing your best to remember the words and hoping your pronunciation wasn’t too awful, “nu căutam dragoste. Căutam spațiu, claritate și poate o idee de carte de un milion de dolari. În schimb, am găsit tot ce am căutat toată viața mea…”

You did your best to bite back tears, especially when his expression was nearly unreadable and you had no idea how well this was going.

“Ești tu, Sebastian, bineînțeles că ești tu,” you sighed, laughing slightly. “Ai fost acolo pentru mine când nici nu știam ce vreau de la nimeni. Ai fost prietenul meu fără să spui vreodată un cuvânt - cel puțin nu un cuvânt pe care l-am înțeles. M-ai iubit și nu știam ce să fac cu asta, pentru că uitasem cu mult timp în urmă cum se simțea să fii iubit. Și ce simțeai să iubești cu adevărat pe cineva. Dar te iubesc. Și am fost prost să te las să pleci, atât de neconceput de prost. Vreau să fim noi, Sebastian. Lasă-mă să te iubesc, mai dă-mi o șansă și îți promit că nu te voi mai lăsa să pleci niciodată.

The first thing he said was your name, and just the way he said it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“I… I dream that you would come back,” he shakily replied. “But now I cannot believe. You are my dream.”

Tears were openly flowing at this point and you wanted to run into his arms, but you tried to stay calm and hear him out. He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like you would run away if he got too close too fast.

“I love you, very much that I am sure I am insane person,” he explained with a grin, and you giggled. “We will live anywhere, do anything you would like— be my wife.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him, gripping your arms tightly as his desperation became apparent.

“Marry me?” he asked softly.

“Da,” you nodded, “yes, of course, anything—”

He kissed you suddenly, but gently, and it said more than any words in any language could.

It was a small wedding, in the Hungarian countryside by the lake. You could remember diving into that lake for lost pages of your manuscript; you could remember looking out over the water and dreaming of this moment you were living right now, thinking it was impossible.

He didn’t have much family, but they welcomed you with open arms.

Your family, well, they were too busy with planning another wedding, for your ex-husband and your ex-sister. A few of them sent cards but the rest were suspiciously quiet. You honestly didn’t even notice… you had a new family to attend to, anyhow. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any guests, since you were able to track down and invite a stewardess named Maria, and a cab driver named Andrei and his wife, Paola.

Sebastian’s cousins weaved flowers into your hair and his grandmother tailored her dress to fit you like a glove. A picture of his parents was hung nearby in tribute; he told you they would’ve wanted to see him get married but that he felt, in some way, they were able to even if they had passed away quite some time ago.

You realized you’d never seen him in anything even mildly formal before; in fact, the suit he wore was rather casual, all things considered, but he looked so painfully cute in it. Sometimes you thought he actually looked a bit out of place wearing a shirt, though, especially one that was buttoned up all the way.

Luckily, the shirt was halfway unbuttoned about ten minutes into the reception.

Mrs. Alberti cooked a massive dinner for everyone, and even grew the flowers that you carried down the cobblestone aisle.

And wow, can Romanians drink. You had to be careful not to try to keep up with them, because if you had you would’ve been blacked out halfway into the night and the last thing you wanted was to forget even a moment of this.

As the night started to wind down to a close, you and your new husband retired to the lakehouse, running up the stairs and finding them as creaky as always.

He wrapped his arms around you in the hall and kissed you eagerly as you stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over the doorway and falling onto the bed together.

It felt so right to have his weight on top of you, to feel his smile against your lips, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“This room,” he mumbled into the kiss. “Do you remember first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “da, I remember, how could I forget?”

He grinned and moved his lips down to your neck. "I thought of you every day… I love you,” he whispered.

“Te iubesc,” you whispered back.

It was almost like the first time in so many ways: passionate, yet oddly hesitant as you rediscovered each other. It was comfortable, though… you couldn’t think of any other person you felt so comfortable with, somebody who finally got you out of your own head and who made you want to experience everything life had to offer.

You were sure you’d never gone so long without worrying about something in all your life.

“My wife,” he whispered against your skin. “This is all I had wanted… from seeing you in very beginning.”

“You’re all I ever wanted,” you sighed in return, “ești tot ce mi-am dorit vreodată, Sebastian.”

Life with Sebastian was beautifully simple. You spent most of the day writing, usually, while he built furniture to sell and occasionally gardened with his spare time. You could always tell how busy you’d been with a new novel lately by how perfectly groomed the hydrangea bushes were.

You’d told him once that you’d come to Hungary looking for a million-dollar book idea. A Killer in Disguise performed alright, but not anywhere near that. The Language of Love, on the other hand, was definitely a million-dollar idea… about eleven times over. Sebastian didn’t seem to worry too much about how much money you made, though; he was just proud to say that he was the inspiration for your hit novel. You secretly suspected that he was more proud of your work reaching enough international notoriety to be translated into Romanian.

His English still needed some work, but you found it endearing. He was determined to get better and spent at least a half-hour each day practicing, but you hoped he wouldn’t get too perfect because you would miss the silly little mistakes he made. At least you could be sure he’d keep the accent forever… damn, that accent; and he knew exactly what it did to you, too.

In fact, you were crossing through the hall in your robe one evening when your husband’s voice stopped you.

“Darling wife,” you heard Sebastian call from the bedroom in a playful sing-song.

“What is it, Seba?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come in here, please…”

You opened the bedroom door to find most of the room covered in rose petals: most of all the bed, which was surrounded by candles, and topped with a shirtless (as per usual) Sebastian, laid on his side seductively with a long-stemmed rose (one you recognized from his very own garden) between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. “Is this some sort of special occasion I’ve forgotten?”

You were already searching your mind for what it could be, but your two-year anniversary had passed a few months ago already and since it was spring it couldn’t be the anniversary of when you first met since that was late in the summer.

“Iss not quite a thpecial occathion yeth,” he answered before taking the rose from his mouth so he actually made sense. “I was considering it could be a special occasion, when we’re done…”

You smirked and climbed over the candles and into bed with him, taking the opportunity to run your hands over his chest. “And what occasion would that be?”

“A year from now, it could be the anniversary of when our child was conceived,” he answered.

Your breath caught in your throat, your voice reduced to a whisper of surprise. “Seba—”

“If you’re not ready, I will be understand,” he instantly added, stern yet soft. “Only if you want this, I just thought that maybe—”

You silenced him with a kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair and letting him roll you onto your back. He pulled back just enough to let you answer, but your noses were still bumping into each other and you smiled.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. More than ready,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed you again, deeper and slower as he held your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you were interrupted with one pressing thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

He popped up and looked down at you with a smile. “Sure!”

“Why are you wearing ratty old jeans?” you laughed.

“Hey, these worked on you the first time,” he defended.

You gasped. “You don’t mean those are the jeans—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the jeans that I had been wearing when I was working on Mrs. Alberti’s cottage. And, truly, when I was finding an excuse to work outside your window.”

“Wait,” you sat up, “did you actually work outside my window on purpose?”

He laughed, hanging his head quickly before looking back at you again with a sparkle in his eye. “You are very smart, my love, except for those times when you are— how do you say? Oblivious.”

You chuckled, unfortunately very aware that he was right.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was building a window frame, nearly a dozen metres away from the window it was for?”

You thought for a moment before dropping your face into your hands and laughing. “No, I didn’t notice that. I was too busy giving you a thorough eye-fuck,” you recalled.

“Yes, because I was not wearing a shirt and this distracted you,” he pondered, sounding suddenly like a scientist explaining a theorem or something. “See, that’s the beauty of wearing the jeans and no shirt. The body distracts you while the jeans seduce you.”

“How about you take the jeans off and put that body on me, capisce?” you pleaded; not that you didn’t love his humor or anything, but maybe his funny bone wasn’t exactly the bone you were interested in at the moment.

He grinned devilishly and suddenly pulled your legs apart, settling his body between them as he kissed your neck again, nipping at your jawline and ear. “You’re being impatient, dragă,” he purred. “You want to have my baby that badly?”

You whined involuntarily, arching your back as his hands roamed your body and finally began to untie your robe and push the silk out of the way. “Yes, Sebastian, please—”

“Let’s just say, theoretically, I wanted to have more than one? Would you have another of my children?” he asked softly as he reached up and palmed at your breasts, teasing your nipples which were already much too hard and sensitive for how little he’d touched you. The rough denim rubbing against the inside of your thighs was oddly arousing— maybe it was the sensation itself, or maybe it was just that this was almost like the first thing you imagined when you saw Sebastian all those years ago.

“Yes,” you moaned out your answer, “yes, you know I’d do anything for you.”

“What if I wanted a big family?” he pressed. “Really big? Like, Catholic big?”

“We can have our own fuckin’ Brady Bunch, Seb, I just need you right now,” you begged, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hot and desperate kiss.

He decided to wait until afterwards to ask what a ‘Brady Bunch’ was. You decided to wait until afterwards to ask when he’d learned how to use the word ‘theoretically’.

sfarsit; the end

#sebastian stan x reader

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