#China Collapsible Drink Bottle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sailorgreywolf-german · 5 months

Text

The spicy SpaAus part of my Congress of Vienna oneshots (that I probably should have posted first):

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

There was a knock at the door, so quiet to be almost shy. Austria looked up from the task of undoing his sash. He had been undressing for the night, assuming that his invitation to Spain had been tactfully rejected.

He had already put aside his ornamental saber and was busy working on taking off the layers of his dress uniform. He left the task where it was and went to the door.

He was half-surprised when Spain was standing on the other side of the door, still in his dress uniform and an uncharacteristic uncertainty in his green eyes. On impulse, Austria said, “Here I was thinking that your answer was no.” Spain gave him a wry smile, “For a while, it was. May I come in?”

There was something deeply amusing about him asking. Spain was usually a man who did as he pleased without asking. Austria answered warmly, “Of course you can.”

He stepped out of the way and Spain stepped into the room. He glanced around and located the chairs and settee. It occurred to Austria that the rooms had been redecorated and renovated a couple of times since he had last been there.

Spain said as he continued to look around, “I could really use a glass of wine, if you’ve already opened-“ His eyes fell on the china cup that Austria had been drinking out of before his arrival. Sounding slightly deflated, he said, “Only you could be drinking coffee at this hour.”

He settled himself in one of the chairs and he absentmindedly fidgeted with one of his buttons. Austria chuckled as he went back to his sash, “I am happy to be sober. And anyway, the entire wine cellar has been requisitioned for the Conference.”

Spain was watching him carefully, like he found the unwinding cloth hypnotic. He said, in a way that sounded much more like him, “You could just take a bottle anyway. You won the war, and no one would deny you.”

Austria finished taking off the sash and put it aside, smiling to himself as he did so. There was something about Spain’s forward nature that he had missed greatly. He answered, as he continued to work on taking off the ornamental details, “If you want one, I can send someone to pick out a bottle for you. I am sure that I have something old and Spanish down there.”

Spain shook his head, “No, I’m not going to be drinking alone. It’s probably better since I only think of the empire when I drink. It’s all that I have been for centuries.”

Austria saw a shadow pass over his face, the same one that had been haunting him for weeks. It was the worry about what would happen if the empire collapsed. Austria tried to find words to say to him as comfort. He knew what kind of importance Spain put in being an empire. It was his only way of proving himself as more than Rome's bastard.

He could see Spain chewing on his inner lip anxiously, clearly thinking about his uncertain future. He decided on saying, “Antonio, if you have proven anything in the last couple years, it is that you can fight for more than the empire. It isn’t all you are.”

He saw Spain slowly processing what he had said as he looked seemingly at nothing. Then his eyes lighted on the ornamental saber that Austria had laid on the table. There was a mischievous glimmer in his eye as he asked, “Have you learned how to use one of those yet? Or is it just to look pretty?”

Austria rolled his eyes, “Don’t be an ass.”

He was distracted by trying to reach under his stiff collar to untie the ribbon that eld his Order of the Golden Fleece. It was proving exceptionally difficult, like the knot was pulling itself tighter as he tugged on it.

Spain noticed what he was doing and said, “Why don’t you come here and let me help with that?”

Austria made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and said, “No, I can do this myself.”

He was aware that it might help to have someone else help. But he was not sure how Spain was going to help when he was sitting on the other side of the room.

His fingers slipped on the silky ribbon and he muttered to himself in frustration, “Gott im Himmel.”

Spain cleared his throat pointedly and said, “Stop being stubborn and come over here.”

Austria sighed. He could not deny how much he liked that commanding edge to his voice. Spain seemed to realize that he was being too commanding and added, “Please, Rodrigo.”

The way his eyes softened was the final straw. Austria’s boots clicked on the parquet floors as he walked over to where Spain was sitting. He stopped and said, “Well, are you going to stand up?”

Spain smirked at him in a way that made his cheeks go hot, and answered, “No, you are going to sit down. Right here.” He put his hand on his knee as if Austria needed direction. It had been a long time since they had been husbands, but not so long that he had forgotten.

He looked at Spain’s waiting lap for a long moment. If he kept his distance, then he could deny that his invitation had been sexual or romantic. But that would be a lie. Spain’s incredibly tenacity in resisting Napoleon had given him such strong feelings of affection that he hadn’t felt since the annulment.

Seeing him so close reminded him that it was not just the romance that he’d missed. The need to feel their bodies together again had returned like a craving. It was not the smartest thing he could do, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had survived a terrible war, and he did not want to exercise restraint.

He sat on Spain’s lap, earning him another little smile. Spain reached up, around Austria’s neck, trailing his fingers along the curve where the fabric met skin, and untied the ribbon deftly. He used the other hand to catch the medal and put it aside.

Austria’s eyes met Spain’s and he felt himself start to blush again. His eyes were so green, and he so focused on the task at hand. Once he was done, Spain didn’t remove his hand. He kept his fingers on Austria’s skin, like he couldn’t stand the thought of being parted. He said, “It really is a tragedy that you are undressing yourself when I can do a better job.”

Austria felt himself leaning into the touch, reducing the difference in their heights. His eyes trailed down to Spain’s lips as he replied, “Can you? Aren’t you a bit out…” He trailed off as he found himself distracted by thinking about what Spain’s lips could do. He found his train of thought and repeated, “Aren’t you out of practice?”

He realized that Spain had leaned in just as he had. They were so close that they were mingling breath. Spain drew in a breath like he was about to speak, but instead he leaned forward far enough to close the gap between them to kiss Austria on the lips.

His fingers wrapped around the back of Austria’s neck and entwined in the hair just above the nape of his neck. Austria’s heart started racing at the way that their lips felt pressed against each other.

He hadn’t realized how much he had missed this feeling. It felt familiar but thrilling, like filling the craving that was roaring in his chest.

A small sensible voice spoke in the back of his head, saying that he should be careful. Had they not annulled their marriage for a good reason? Had they not fought fiercely before it? The thoughts raced through his mind as he felt Spain press his tongue into his mouth.

Austria moaned and he felt himself lean in even as the rational voice in his head urged him to consider whether it was wise to get entangled with Spain. If he hadn’t intended this, he would not have issued the first invitation.

As they broke apart, Austria thought about what to say. He didn’t want to turn Spain away, especially not once he was looking at him. There was a handsome warm flush in his cheeks and his hair ruffled, his green eyes shining with a certain kind of hunger.

He wordlessly ran a hand through his hair, blushing some loose waves off of his forehead. He caught sight of an angry red scar that was partially hidden beneath Spain’s hairline. He let out a long breath through his nose before saying, “You poor thing. Did Francis do that to you?”

Spain answered it, stroking Austria’s cheek softly, “It was a long war and I have many scars. Don’t trouble yourself about it.” He paused and looked earnestly at Austria before adding, “I think that you will see more of them.”

Austria felt like he had perhaps ruined the mood and not intended to. He had heard about the brutality of the Peninsular War, and he knew it would be naïve to assume that it would not show on Spain’s person. He had tried not to imagine what France was doing to Spain during it all because he knew it would pain him. His love for the man had never truly died, even when he'd tried to smother it.

He stroked Spain’s hair and kissing him softly where the scar was. As he leaned back, he said, “You still look handsome to me.”

He felt Spain’s hand tighten on the back of his head and pull him downward, towards his lips again. Austria did not want to fight it. The first kiss had given him an insatiable longing for another, and he decided that Spain was right that the war gave him a right to take what he wanted. At that moment, he wanted Spain.

He knew that the other man felt the same. The caress of his lips was hungry, and the kiss was deep. Spain’s teeth brushed his lower lip like he was tempted to bite. Austria parted his lips to let Spain kiss him more deeply.

One of the Spaniard’s hands remained on his neck, holding him in that deep kiss. The other found the buttons, deftly undid them, and slipped beneath to caress Austria’s waist through his chemise. Austria loved the heat of his hand. Spain had always been so hot-blooded, and he had no realized how much he had missed it. His whole body leaned into the touch, trying to pour himself into Spain’s hands.

As Spain broke the kiss to take a breath, he looked up at Austria with earnest eyes. He said, sounding almost breathless, “My Rodrigo. My little prince.”

Austria smiled back, “What do you mean little? I’m a Great Power now. And you will remember my station. You are not going to fuck me on a chair.”

He kept careful control of his tone to sound playful rather than admonishing. Spain’s hands both held him tightly as he asked, “And are you going to let me fuck you?”

Austria stared at his lips as he spoke, those lips that could be so loving or so sharp. He answered, “Yes, but we are not going to fuck. We are going to make love on my bed like proper lovers.”

Spain nodded like he could not be more pleased with the turn of events. He planted a soft kiss on Austria’s neck before saying, “I think I remember the way to the bed. It has not been that long.”

Austria wasn’t going to remark that it had been quite long since it would dampen the mood, and the bed had not in fact moved. He nodded, stood up and extended his hand, “Then come with me.”

The smirk that crossed Spain’s face could not have been more familiar, “We’ll have to start with taking this off.” With that , he stood up and used his hands to push Austria’s jacket off of his shoulders. It slipped down his arms and hit the floor with a heavy thud, weighed down by all of his medals.

Austria said, with his own little smirk, “But what about yours, dear?” He reached over and slipped Spain’s buttons out of their buttonholes. It made it easy work to push it off, leaving Spain in his breeches and his chemise.

Once he did, he felt Spain’s eyes on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Spain closed the distance to kiss him again, silencing any other conversation. Between kisses, Spain said, “Don’t keep me waiting. Please, I need you. To bed now.”

Austria nodded. The next moments were a blur of hands, laces, breeches, and the sound of uncoordinated footsteps, and Austria found himself on his back on the bed. Spain had removed his glasses at some point, and the world had become remarkably blurry. Spain had somehow already managed to strip them both of their boots and their breaches with astonishing speed.

Austria smiled into the kiss as Spain leaned over him. In grateful response, he wrapped his legs around Spain’s waist and pulled him in. He pretended that he did not see the red scar on Spain’s side when the shirt was pushed up. He would have time, once the acute need subsided, to kiss each of them and ask about them.

He was thinking about the way that Spain’s hands were sliding up his legs and nothing else.

There were warm lips on his neck, making his heart race and his mind feel blurry. It had been so long since he had been touched like that, but it felt like an old dance, and he knew every step. The silky feeling of his hands tangling in Spain’s waved as they kissed was something he hadn’t realized he missed this keenly.

Spain breathed in his ear, “Do you still keep anything in this room for this part?”

He didn’t need to clarify what he meant Austria could feel the hand on his inner thigh. When they had been married, he had been prepared for their nights together. But it had a long time since the annulment. He answered, “No, not anymore.”

Spain didn’t pause for even a moment before saying, “This will have to do then.” He put fingers in his own mouth and coated them thoroughly.

Austria found it mesmerizing to watch him, the care he had always taken. The feeling of the first finger pressing in made Austria groan gratefully. It didn’t feel pleasurable yet, but centuries of marriage were enough for him to know it would soon. He spread his legs to allow Spain better access, hoping to move quickly to the enjoyable part.

The Spaniard practically purred, in heavily accented German, “Schön. You take that so well. You always did.”

Austria moaned again, “You feel how I remember.” He knew he was goading Spain, and the man took the bait marvelously. He removed his fingers and pushed in, gently but firmly.

It was exactly what Austria wanted, and he wrapped his arms around Spain’s back to pull him in. The thin layer of fabric kept him from embedding his fingernails in Spain’s back. Spain breathed in his ear, “And do you remember this?” He started to move as if he was making a point. Austria nodded breathlessly, “Of course.” He moved one hand down Spain's back to give his butt a firm squeeze and added, "And I remember this too."

He didn’t know how to say that he had dreamed of Spain feeling exactly like that for weeks. He didn’t dare reveal that he had been longing for that long or that keenly.

The first thrust felt better than when he dreamed of it; it dragged a long moan from his throat. Spain continued to speak between small kisses across Austria’s neck and jaw, “Well, you feel even better than I remember.”

The next thrust sent waves of pleasure across Austria’s skin. He met Spain’s green eyes, and he could see the adoration in them, and it was a look that he thought he’d never see again. Not in those eyes, not that look that made him feel so beautiful.

He could tell that Spain was holding himself back from joining their lips because he wanted to be able to look. Austria wanted to keep their eyes locked, but the feeling as Spain increased his pace was too overwhelming.

He closed his eyes and threw his head back. Spain kissed and nibbled his neck while cooing praise in a mix of Spanish and German. Austria held onto him and let himself enjoy the feeling. He did not know when he would have it again, so he refused to let a single sensation go unrelished.

Spain’s pace continued to build, and Austria angled his hips up to allow for the perfect angle for both of them. The feeling was building in Austria’s gut and he knew he was close.

Spain seemed to be too, the words that usually slipped easily from his lips were failing him as his pace became more erratic. Austria balled his hands in Spain’s shirt as he felt the final thrust and reached his own climax.

Spain finished and collapsed onto the pillows next to him. Austria looked over to see a strangely anxious look on the Spaniard’s face.

He asked, sounding deeply concerned that he was about to be thrown out, “Rodrigo, may I stay tonight?” Austria touched his face, stroking his cheek. He didn’t need to think about it for long before he answered, “Of course you can.”

#hws austria #spaus #hws spain #did I write these completely out of order? Maybe

20 notes · View notes

headingalaxys-spicy · 1 year

Note

Say the omega rebellion is successful and the government collapses. What would the yandere alphas do? Who would try to escape? Who would try to fight back? Who would fail?

Alright as you try to drown out the screams and panic in the background I’m here to give you a quick breakdown of the colossal calamity. Because holy butter. Do omegas have a lot of pent up anger. And all of you know what happens when something has been pent up for far too long.

Fucking Ka-BOOM!

Yandere Alpha’s - Omega’s toppling them will break some of their goddamn brains. Which makes it easier for more of them to be a part of the slaughter. By enhanced scythes that make murder almost effortless. It just takes one swing! *cue Grim from Billy and Mandy-esque laughter*

Others will be fighting back and trying to subdue some of the hoards that have spawned from seemingly nowhere. It’s as if there was an entire nation of Omega’s that were living in hiding and only just now had the proper leadership to overthrow the repressive dictators. The hellish scenes of those who are in their rank, that does not cease nor subside will eventually wear those with mightiest of mettle. Will succumb to the hordes.

Some will beg and plead to not be killed.

Others will simply sit in their leather chairs and have a stiff drink as death walks through their doors armed with Molotov Cocktails.

Fleeing for an Alpha isn’t too possible since most of the good hiding places are still occupied by those who were ostracized by them in the first place.

“Sucks when the shoe is on the other foot doesn't it?” A frying pan crashing into a figure could be heard from miles away.

Only a small population of docile Alpha’s that were known to be kind to those in the lower classifications will be spared.

America, Germany, and Russia would be the Alpha’s that fight to their deaths.

England and China were prepared for this. They escape. England with his magical powers. But he now has to live in his magical dimension probably permanently. China, he’s wise and was not here for the bullshit. He built an entire secret underground palace where he’ll live out the rest of his days with his staff and his omega love.

Canada dude just had a lot of favor with the Omega’s. He was kind to them. Mattie boy gets to watch the collapse of life as he once knew it while watching it on his HD TV. He’s chilling while he eats a pile of maple pancakes and enjoying the absence of his annoying twin.

Beta’s - A lot of them are in awe of how feral Omegas are. They’re impressed, terrified, and lending a hand to the rebellion. Although it took a reasonable amount of discussion and discourse to get through to some sizable groups of them.

After the war has started a lot of them will either be stationed in the city facilitating medical, transport, and communications amidst the blood, debris, & political dissonance. They’re the ones behind the larger operation and do their best to seek out Alpha’s with enhanced technology that can look at a person's gene code. Since some Alpha’s have tried to hide amongst the Omega’s and pretend that they were on their side for the entire time.

The ones who fail in this group are the ones who firmly believed in the Alpha Controlled Government, those who ratted people out, blackmailed, etc will be the ones who get interrogated for information, tortured, and imprisoned.

France- Going to be inebriated though all of this. The rebellion has broke his brain. He’ll be found at the end of the war somewhere with an empty red wine bottle facedown on the concrete with sparkles still around him. (He’s that fabulous.)

Italy- With his brother and Spain, mass producing white flags, annnnnnnnd trying his best not to flood his apartment.

Spain- Considering drinking but doesn’t want to freak out Italy.

Romano- Stress drinking and chowing down on his third bowl of pasta.

Omega’s - Some of them are scared and excited out of their mind. Only about 20% of them would be unwilling to get violent in the uprising. However, that did not mean that they were going to be useless. Since a great deal of them are nurses, cooks, and other blue collar jobs that made life for the Alpha’s easy. Nevertheless, that didn’t mean that all Omega’s dedicated themselves to the cause.

#yandere hetalia #hws america #hws germany #hetalia headcanons #headingalaxys spicy #hetalia au #hetalia fandom #hetalia #headingalaxys writes stuff #hws #alfred f jones #hetalia fanfiction writer #hetalia imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #hetalia omegaverse

46 notes · View notes

menofcolorswitchbodiestoo · 3 years

Photo

Episode:

-Shanghai Swap Meat - Part 1

‘’What’s wrong with you dude? Have you unclogged the toilet yet?’’ My cousin asked.

‘’No, I haven’t done that ... yet.’‘

‘’Then what’s bothering you?’’

‘’Oh, nothing except that I’m the biggest loser of the family, and my life kind of sucks.’’

‘’Oh don’t be so hard on yourself Alan you’re not the brightest star of our family but you’re not the biggest failure either.’’

‘’Thanx cousin but let’s be honest I kinda screwed up. Dropped out twice, failing my classes again, and kicked out by dad because he’s embarrassed by his low-life son. We’re both 23 years old cousin but you already have your own butchery. Small business, but you build something yourself, you achieved something. What did I achieve? High School, that’s pretty much it.’’

‘’Don’t worry too much Alan you’re a late bloomer good things will come to you eventually. Until then, I don’t mind you here helping me in the shop in exchange for sleeping on my couch.’’

‘’Awesome, so in what way does that make my life suck any less? A young, late bloomer, dropout, kicked out, working for free in his cousin’s butchery and sleeping on his couch in downtown Shanghai, no offense cousin. You’re right I’m living the life!’’

I turned and ran into something massive and got pushed back to the display.

‘’Can’t you watch where you walk runt?!’’ A booming voice said.

I looked up and I saw a man... no a mountain of solid muscles. From a quick glance, I noticed his thick pecs, wide boulder-sized shoulder, arms and legs thick as tree trunks, and the thickest ass in Asia.

‘’Move aside runt. Do you have my order ready butcher?’’

‘’But of course Mr. Kang I have already set it apart for you.’’ My cousin walked to the fridge.

‘’Here is your order Mr. Kang: 7 Chicken breast, 5 pork chops, 3 lean steaks, and the rest of your order. Only the best quality for you Mr. Kang.’’ With difficulty, my cousin got the heavy bags with raw meat on the counter.

‘’Finally.’’ Said the enormous brute said with his deep baritone manly voice. With one arm, he easily picked up the bags my cousin struggled to get up earlier from the counter. I was amazed by his build. This guy weighed at least 330 lbs with an impressive 6’5 height.

‘’Do you have in here someplace where I can take a piss?’’

‘’Of course, Mr. Kang toilet is in the back second door on the right.’’ My cousin replied. The bodybuilder walked past us, walking to the back.

‘’Who was that God cousin?‘’

‘’God? No Alan customer, a big spender. Samual Kang is a former pro bodybuilder living here in Shanghai. He’s now founder and CEO of a successful chain of gyms across China, produces and sells nutrition and I thought he did some acting and modeling too. He always buys here his meat and a lot of it because it has not yet been processed.’’

"What does he have that I don't have?" "I asked him, feeling like my life sucked even more than I thought... reality just hit me hard.

‘’Well.... money, a penthouse, a gorgeous model as his girlfriend, money, a successful business, fans, a great body and again money.’’

‘’Haha, if you only were as good at making me feel better as you are at cutting meat’‘.

*Sigh*.

‘‘I wish I had his life, he seems to have his shit in order. And have you seen his body?! It takes years of dedication to get so puffed up! I would look awsome!’‘

‘’So you want to be like Mr. Kang don’t you Allen?’’ My cousin began staring seriously at me, he had never been so creepy.

''Uhm yeah kind of, didn't you hear me the first time cousin?''

He picked up a small plastic bottle with some green gunk under the counter. ‘’Drink this cousin!’’

‘’What is this?! How long did you keep this?’’’ I opened the bottle and the smell was horrific! ‘’Ugh, this smells awful cousin like grandpa’s feet, just throw it into the trashcan’’.

‘’Just drink it, Alan. For once just listen and do something that is going to make a difference in your life.’’

My cousin still had this creepy serious expression on his face. I felt I had to prove something to him by drinking it but I also didn’t want to drink whatever was inside this bottle.

‘’Alright alright, I will drink it!’’

I opened the bottle again and knocked back the disgusting green juice all at once down my throat.

‘’See... happy now cousin? Now let’s do a reality check… did drinking this turn my life upside down?... Uhm, nope it didn’t. It only left a bitter taste in my mouth ugh...so thanks for that cousin very helpful.’’

‘’Just give it some time’’. My cousin said.

‘’But we’re almost closing, so I’m going to bed... I mean the couch’’.

Then it hit me, I suddenly felt an enormous rush. Out of nowhere, I felt an enormous pressure on my bladder.

''What did you do to me cousin?!'' I yelled. ''Oh man, this is going bad! Out of my way cousin!'' I ran as fast as I could to the bathroom in the back. It felt like I could snap anytime.

I stormed into the bathroom to the toilet. Shit, I forget to unclog it. I turn to the only urinal seeing Samual Kang standing in front of it.

‘’Can you hurry up, please?!’’ Damn, I can’t hold it anymore! I got pulled to the urinal as something forced me to.

‘’Shut up runt can’t you see I’m busy! And don’t you dare to look!’’ Mr. Kang shouted at me.

‘’Oh, come on hurry up!!!’’ I couldn’t handle it anymore! And then my feet got off the ground and I smashed right into Mr. Kang’s back.

‘’Didn’t I tell you to sh...WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING GET OFF ME!’’

‘’I’m so sorry Mr. Kang I don’t know what is happening!’’ I tried to apologize and to get off Mr. Kang’’s large back, I put my hands on his back to push me off, but somehow I sank through into his back!

‘’WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO ME!’’ (*we said simultaneously*)

My arms sank deeper into Mr. Kang’s back as well as my legs that were already halfway in.

‘’Please, stop! It hurts… get out!’’ Mr. Kang yelled and began to stumble as he tried to walk away.

‘’Stand still before you make us fall and we break something!’’ We stopped. Wait did I just do that did I just controlled his legs?!

I pushed my second arm into Kang’s right arm and use both to slowly pull my body into his. I tried to move my fingers inside Mr. Kang´s large hands. His large sausage fingers moved on my command!

‘’Dude I’m somehow connected to your body! Looks like I can control this body. Awesome!’’ I shouted.

‘’No this isn’t possible!’’ Kang stumbles around the room as the two of us fight for control. Spasming and swinging his arms, Kang attempts to push me out. But I sleeved my skinny arms into his and now control these massive arms.

With a malicious grin splitting on my own face, I bring Sam’s hands up to his face and began to feel it and then going down to caress his muscles. It’s so weird I feel like I’m feeling it with my own hands. Mr. Kang almost collapses on the ground as I continue pushing.

‘’No, no big guy can’t let that happen, these strong legs of ours can easily hold us both!’’ I forced Mr. Kang into a standing position with my arms against the toilet wall. Mr. Kang Still trembling with an occasional spasmatic twitching, while I’m moving around inside him. I get deeper and deeper inside his body. It’s warm inside and a bit tight. I can feel Samual Kang’s cock getting hard as I shove mine errected cock into his. Samual groans and gasps in a mixture of agony and pleasure. I chuckle at the thought of what I was doing to Samual and continue exploring his body in this new exciting way.

"That's enough! Get out of me...leave my body alone!"

‘’Nah why stop now? Now let’s see what’s inside that head of yours Samual Kang.’’

I push my head into Kang’s and the last of me into him. I had now been fully absorbed by Mr. Kang’s bodybuilder body.

I opened my eyes looking at this amazing muscle bod now fully under my control. First let’s take this shirt off MY muscles deserve to be seen. I flexed my biceps.

‘‘OH YEAH! BRING IT! HOLY CRAP!’‘

We left one last moan... and then a flash of light appeared. We were pulled out of eachother, separated. Everything went dark.

Samual Kang fell behind on the floor while Allen fell forward into the urinal.

...A few hours passed...

*PHONE RINGS*

‘’Uhm, Come on cousin just a few more minutes. I… I just had the weirdest dream ever. That green stuff... ugh you gave me was strong or was that also a part of the dream. I...I just need a little bit more sleep’’...

PHONE MESSAGE BANK:

*beep* Mr. Kang you have 38 messages.

Latest message received 1 minute ago.

*beep* (Allen’s voice:) ‘’Answer the phone! I don’t know how the fuck you did this little runt but I’m, uh, I think I'm in the wrong body, your body’’.

*beep* (Allen’s voice:) ‘‘Allen that’s your name right ‘‘Allen’‘, check your friggin voicemail please we have to fix this. Damn it! Oh my head still hurts! Did you really have to smash this head into the fucking urinal?! Call me back.’‘

- To be continued -

#male body swap #Asian x Asian #menofcolorswitchbodiestoo

415 notes · View notes

dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 3 years

Text

The White House released a series of videos on Monday to bring attention to failing infrastructure in Senate Republican Leader Mitch McConnell's home state of Kentucky in an effort to gather support for President Biden's infrastructure bill.

As the Lexington Herald-Leader reports, the videos focused on Eastern Kentucky residents struggling to get access to broadband and clean drinking water.

One resident named BarbiAnn Maynard from Martin County, a clean water activist, showed how she and many residents in her area use only bottled water for their daily needs due to fear of the quality of tap water available to them.

"This water disgusts me. I'm afraid of this water," Maynard says in the video, pointing to her sink faucet. Maynard describes her local water system as being "on the edge of total collapse."

Maynard also pointed out failing roads that were hollowed out by coal mining activity.

"The coal mines mined under our roads so there's hollow spots. There was no enforcement of the weight limit so they let the trucks drive overloaded on our roads," Maynard explains. In the video, Maynard drives past a large sign positioned on a destroyed bridge that reads, "China build us a bridge."

"There's about 25 houses on the other side of that road and they have no bridge, no access in or out," Maynard said.

“People talk about ‘Eastern Kentucky is poor and they don’t really have anything,’” Maynard says. “Well, how are we ever going to have anything if our government won’t invest in our infrastructure?”

McConnell has signaled some support for a bipartisan-led infrastructure package that have been proposed but he has maintained that stopping Biden's agenda is his top priority.

Last week, Senate GOP aides told The Hill that McConnell was seeking to split Biden from progressives by showing some support for a bipartisan bill as long as it focused on traditional infrastructure.

#politics #us politics #news #ky #kentucky #mitch mcconnell #sen. mitch mcconnell #fuck mcconnell #infrastructure #infrastructure reform #infrastructure and job proposal #biden administration #YouTube #video

102 notes · View notes

r00en · 3 years

Text

For Every King Chapter 1

Doffy was normally always smiling. Well grinning was a better word for the shape really, those massive white teeth set in a twitching sneer that put nearly everyone around him on edge and meant he was either in a wonderful mood or a murderous one. It was impossible to the tell the difference. Today however in this moment he was frowning. Brows knit together as ring clad fingers twitched against the arm rest of his throne. A few select members of the family sat around him all filled with a sense of unease and foreboding. Eyes locked on the woman who sat sipping tea and chatting with the servant girl as if she hadn't a care in the world.

She didn't really. Truth be told that woman was the safest of any in the whole kingdom. Clad in armor of reputation and position with their mutual boss that tied Doflamingos hands with his own strings which itched him all the more to rip that smile right off her face and force her firmly on her knees when he believed everyone belonged before him.

The serving girl hurried from the room which was a wise choice, leaving them alone in that lofty silence once more save for the soft clatter of a cup on a fine china saucer. Doflamingo forced a smile, though his teeth chattered together once before he firmly set it in place and pushed out that kingly charisma.

He didn't really have to force himself normally. Not with her. They had run across each other many times in their line of work fostering an odd level or respect and he would dare at times, at gun point, say a friendship of sorts. More like odd sexual tension. It did not bold well that she was here under orders which put him more on edge than anything. If she happened to be passing through and stopped in his port to pester him he would welcome it. Invite her with open arms and spend what little time they had bickering with her over meals and card games. Laughing at each other and trying to get either to snap.

Perhaps fight like they used to until they were bloody and excused, collapsing in a chuckling mess on the throne room floor hurling insults until they caught their breath and started up again for hours. Staying up late and drinking while he filled her in on his warlord affairs while she belittled his work and made him grind his teeth in annoyance until someone threw the bottle at the other. Getting far too drunk and passing out together, waking up and wishing he didn't hold that thread of respect for her so he could have used her like every other woman in this damn kingdom who looked good enough to waste his bed on. Watching her as she slept and smiling and different sort of smile that he would show no one.

"Where are my manners? I haven't fully welcomed you to my kingdom yet have I? Though I can't say I was expecting you to show up unann-"

"We can cut the crap there 'you majesty' we both know exactly why I'm here." The woman shifted in her chair placing her drink down and crossing one leg over the other almost to mirror his own position.

Teeth snapped shut again as he started at her in shock. No one spoke to him like that in front of his family, Doffy found himself at a loss for words. Trebol sunk forward. "Heyyyy heyy! You can't talk to the master like that! No one talks to the master like that!" A hand wave silenced the blob of a man in an instant. Doffy was used to his family putting people in their place but this was a conversation that would not be won with insisting threats. And this woman was no stranger. Though his family knew her well enough they were still weary.

Only knowing that he would steal away with her when they would cross paths doing who knew what for days at a time and return happy as a clam and often keeping that mood for weeks until he turned sour again. They all assumed she was some kind of escort he knew from one town or the next and took a liking too but never pressed the issue. Doffy let that lie continue for a few years until she found out about it and nearly broke one of his legs. After which he cleared her as a 'business' partner.

Diamante still whispered that she was the best lay Doffy ever had and as such was the only reason he liked her.....Doflamingo would never let her hear that.

"But masterrr! She can't talk to you like that!" Doflamingo sat back and laced his fingers together.

The finality of his movements kept the rest of the members quiet though they shifted in their places and stared daggers at their guest. Giolla in particular was teaming enough to rattled her necklace in a clattering rumble that itched the back of Doffys brain and annoyed him farther.

"Leave us. This woman poses no threat to me, our family nor this kingdom. Isn't that right... "Ruby Red", captain of the Blood Pirates and allied member to Kaidou himself? We are coworkers after all! Our boss would be none too pleased if either of our heads stopped showing up to work. I think we can call it safe for now yes?" Though he was grinning again his introduction of her pinpointed exactly why he himself was so on edge as well. While she could bring him no trouble she was just as untouchable. A standstill of two of the most oddly tempered pirates in the New World. But that is why he liked her so much in a weird sort of way.

Gladius, Sugar, Giolla, Senor and Trebol grumbled but stood and made their way to the door. Each giving the strange woman a look which she seemingly ignored keeping her eyes locked with the pink sunglasses that returned the stare. Baby 5 followed but paused by the door. Always unable to keep her questions to herself she gave a small 'hrump' of annoyance and pointed accusingly at their guest.

"Master you should simply kill her for speaking out of turn! Why has she been allowed to speak so freely and do as she pleases in the kingdom! What could be so important about one lowly pirate?!" Doflamingo turned ready to scold his young family member but was swiftly cut off by a chuckle that started low and quiet, as if trying to stay subdued and hidden for polite sake but quickly turned into a loud and almost obnoxious sound that made his shoulders hunch.

"Ahh! You never do keep them in the loop of anything do you Doffy? This one was younger the last time we met up....Baby 5 right? What lie did you come up with to tell her about our little 'friendship' to save face? Well it's not like a some big grand secret so why don't I save you the trouble hmm?" Red seemed all too pleased with this turn of events, standing from her gifted chair and addressing the young Baby 5 with what could almost pass as a kind smile. He knew better and braced himself just in case she was crazy enough to start an altercation. She couldn't be that stupid could she?

"Do you know why we called ourselves the Blood Pirates Baby 5?" Baby on her part gulped and took a step back, shaking her head and listening intently though her eyes cast pleading glances to her master to make sure he was still there. This woman gave off the same strange, overbearing energy he did. Almost friendly, almost kind, almost playful....but terrifyingly heavy. "I'm a blood woman, I ate the Aka-Aka fruit. I can control my own blood any way I like, and the blood of anyone within six feet of me." Baby glanced down at their feet and stumbled another foot back just to be sure earning herself another laugh and a wave. "Oh don't worry I have no intention of pulling your strings, I'm not 'that' heartless...." Crude, Doflamingo thought with a huff. Yet not incorrect. "I run a crew of blood thirsty pirates who take more pleasure in stealing lives than treasure. Killing isn't really my thing personally but it supplies me with enough blood to work and that's all I can really ask for."

"Work with?" Baby muttered

"Mhm. Just like your master works for the great Emperor Kaidou so do I. I supply him with all sorts of things. I mostly alter the make up of collected blood to be coated onto drugs he disrupts through war torn countries, using it to create a sedative for his more....aggressive beastmen crew members...or being the key component to the chemical your very own Ceasar Clown uses to create The Smile Fruit your master here." Red paused and tapped her chin. "No wait...it's used to create SAD which is then used to create The Smile Fruit. Which is the only thing keeping Doffy in the Emperors good graces." A snap of her fingers caused Baby to jump and squeek. "Plus I pass on some of my spell mix to your master here to sell in his own underground affairs. Drugs to keep his stock up, sedative's to keep his slave traders happy. All sorts of things. He owes me." The wink she sent his was pissed him off yet he shifted in his seat a little, spreading his legs just wider for comfort. He hated her...

It was Baby's turn to think now. It looked almost painful as she tried to piece together the bits of information she was just given. "I thought SAD was created using the Lineage Factor, not blood from some fruit user."

"Lineage Factor is the main component. Ruby Red's own manipulated blood is what allows Caesar's chemical to take root in the tree's and create the fruit itself. To take shape." Doflamingo seemed less than pleased to have this out in the open, leaning back in his chair with that glare still set on their guest no matter where she moved about the room. "Without her blood SAD can not take shape into a Devil Fruit and grant it's power." Ruby hummed in agreement placing both hands on her hips and giving a firm nod. Baby still seemed to struggle with all of this.

"So....."

"So. I give Ceasar samples of my devil fruit blood for each new batch of SAD. Blood from the Aka-Aka no Mi specifically or so Caesar says...we have tried it with other blood types. Normal, devil fruit users. Even Doffy's here. None had the same effect as mine. But that puts me in the right position to stay on everyone's good side isn't that right Doffy?" She only received a grim grunt in return. Her smile only shrugging it off and turning back to the young woman. "To make a long, boring story short I have something very important to our boss and so your master here has his hands tied when it comes to playing nice. To be fair so do I...." Ruby seemed less than thrilled with that. Seconds ago being so cheery and up beat as she explained their sorted position. Now however she slumped back into her chair with a sigh rubbing her temples in annoyance. "That also means I work for him, same as your master. I have to do anything the big brute says. Which is why I'm in this horrible kingdom filled with sunshine and lies to give him this."

It took a few seconds. Fishing around in her pocket to find a letter that seemed like it was handled with a little less than care though it's trip to him. "Don't ask me what it says. I wasn't allowed to open it. And he refused to tell me what he's planning. Something that's going to annoy the both of us I would expect." Ruby held the letter up, expectantly as if she knew. He hated that but couldn't be bothered to stand. Sending a string to snatch the corner of the letter and whip it into his own hand. She didn't know him...he would keep telling himself and that smirk she sent his way made him twitchy.

Someone else clearly wrote what ever this was. It was small even for his massive hands. Carefully wrapped and beyond the crumpled edges and what looked like a stain of some kind on the bottom it was unopened. Still sealed with wax and that horrible Beast Pirate Jolly Rodger. No point in delaying he popped open the wax and fished the letter free. Reading over the contents his brow knit lower with each word. Clutching the parchment until he was sure he heard a bit of it rip as his knuckles turned white.

"Baby 5...."

"Y-yes master!?"

"Leave."

Nothing more needed to be said. Nothing in that single word left room for discussion and even Ruby sat up straight and looked at the false King with apprehension. The click of Baby's heels running down the hall and the slam of the large gilded doors filled that heavy silence between them for far too many minuets. Ruby having enough of it at last spoke up.

".....Don't tell me you've been fired 'Joker'...?"

He didn't answer, clearly not moved by her jokes and in no mood to play.

"What is it? He dosn't need the Smile Fruit anymore? He's stepping down as Emperor?" She was growing uneasy. Standing from her spot and stomping her foot trying to get his attention. "Damn it Doflamingo if I'm here too that mean's in involves both of us what the hell does-"

"He wants you to join my family." The deadpan way he spoke shut her up quickly. This was no joke. Kaidou really indented her to drop her own crew and join his? That's most likely what that meant as his 'family' was little more than a fancy name for his crew. A way to manipulate them into feeling closer than Doflamingo truly believed they were. He had no real 'family'...and he never really treated his true family well regardless.

Ruby stood shocked for a moment. There would be no love lost for her own crew. A bunch of overly strong cut throat assholes who only cared about spilling blood and collecting bounties. Hardly anything to mourn should she find herself in need of another. But giving up her spot as Captain was another thing. Red liked being in power. She liked lording over weaker yet still capable underlings and doing what ever she pleased. More or less as long as Kaido didn't bother her and given his somber state he hardly ever did. Still she wouldn't let him know this urked her. Dismissing the whole thing with a snort.

"So tell him no. That you're crew is full and you're ever so thankful for the offer but it's simply impossible." There was no way that would work. They both knew that but it was the stubborn thought that counted. That she didn't like this idea any more than he did and they would both go kicking and screaming but they would still have to go. "What good could that do either of us? Or him for that matter? Our arrangements have been working out swimmingly for years now why suddenly try and shift everything and rock the boat? What sense does any of that make?"

Doflamingo didn't know, and he was a man who prides himself on 'knowing'. "He says the production of SAD and SMILE fruit is too slow with you running around the seven seas and he wants you in one place...apparently someone has also gotten wind of your roll in the making of it all and he thinks it would be wise for you to have some extra protection. I would assume from you running your mouth around every small town you land that eyesore of a ship in."

"So he wants you to baby sit me." Seemingly letting the insult slide.

That got a chuckle out of him, the small pout she put on was amusing the way her lip stuck out and her cheeks grew puffy and red. If he sat down and really thought about it Doffy didn't dislike Red. He liked his women beautiful and small, though most were in fact small next to his ten feet Red was in fact lovely to look at when she wasn't snapping and sassing that mouth at him. She walked with importance and purpose. Not like some pretty doll begging for attention and adoration. She earned it by default as he did. When she walked into his throne room that smile that said so many things in silence thumped his heart in a pattern he was only familiar with when he ran into her. He didn't 'hate' Red. Oh no. If things were different, if she wasn't such a spitting kitten who mocked him at every turn he would have snatched her up and fucked her dizzy at their every run in. He would still like to. Right now even given the circumstances. It was only that tongue of hers that he wished to rip out.

Even still....only in front of others. Only when she insisted on using it in the presence of his underlings and family. Challenging his standing and forcing him to play her little game of bickering until they both were exhausted from comebacks and back talk. When he called her every name in the book and she somehow threw out insults in different languages he didn't even know. Alone however they would laugh and tease. Poking fun and even complementing the other. The only person in this world that Doflamingo could ease into knowing they were both untouchable by the other. No reason to threaten or press her beneath him, just level. Easy. He liked that in a way. Liked being something other than a god to someone though he loved being a god. With this one person in these stolen hidden moments he could be something else. He hated that he loved it.

"It seems as much. He wants you close to the factory and Caesar and under my protection as well if he can help it....perhaps there is another way..."

"If you have a better idea."

Leaning forward Doflamingo laced his fingers together and thought. Hard. There was no getting around this. Kaidou had all but ordered action in that letter and what were either of them to do. Politely decline via return letter? He would make their lives hell. Destroy everything he had built these last 30 plus years. Take everything from him...and her. Not that she had as much he supposed but freedom and what little power she had seemed to matter and it was enough to have her chewing her nails to the quik. There was a way. Without having her join his crew yet keep her under his protection and eye. Close to the factory and the scientist and perhaps even give her something in return. Perhaps even give him something he wouldn't mind wrapping his strings around either though he shoved that as deep as he could and refused to acknowledge it.

".....marry me."

#One Piece #fanfic #Doflamingo #Doffy #writting #donquixote rosinante #donquixote brothers #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo x reader

22 notes · View notes

fvrxdrm · 3 years

Text

.•*Friends to Lovers on Holidays with Leon Kennedy*•.

Happy Single Asses’ Day!!!

Pairing: Modern!Leon x F!Reader

Warning(s): NSFW

*****

“Cheers to us single fuckers!”

The clinking of wine glasses subtly intertwined with the voices of the actors in a horribly-done “horror” movie that was running on the television as you and Leon briefly joined them together before letting the tang of sweet, bitter, and sour wine hit your tongues. And when they did, you moaned in satisfaction.

“Not bad.”

“It better not be. This shit costed, like, $100.”

Leon grabbed the wine bottle in front of him and went on to refilling yours and his glasses respectively.

“My wallet’s fucking crying,” he continued.

“Hey, don’t bullshit me now. Jack Daniel’s costs $50.00 and I don’t hear you complaining. And from what I remember you buy five of ‘em,” you retorted back hitherto taking a small sip of your drink.

“For your information I only buy one bottle now. Had the president not let us quit going on missions your statement would’ve been correct.”

It was true. Ever since the New York incident, bioterrorism had gone down and those rare times where an occurrence would go down somewhere in a small region on earth the BSAA would be sent, sometimes even bringing one of the newer DSO agents to help them with the cases. And so, with the conclusion that the count was dying at a leisure pace, the government decided there was no need for their veteran agents to be sent on missions unless they were lethal and needed someone who was as exceedingly experienced as you on the field and sanctioned both you and Leon to only do office work until further notice.

“I mean, yeah, true… Pass me the bowl?” With eyes still glued to the T.V., Leon reached out to grab ahold of the large bowl of popcorn and blindly looked for your hand until he finally felt the bottom of the bowl touch a surface, letting it go once he felt the weight shift lighter.

“This is bullshit. Who the fuck just crawls on the ground after tripping while the killer is literally right behind them? Like, fucking 5 inches away from them! I would’ve stood up and ran.”

The movie had been going for about half an hour now and Leon couldn’t be more amused at how you reacted at every scene where the characters’ brains seemingly flew out of their heads. He wasn’t paying attention to the film. He’d watch this way, way, way, way back anyway and he knew how stupid it was so he just entertained himself by listening to your rants and laughing (also getting smacked every now and then).

“Oh my god! Why the fuck does she keep screaming?”

“You know what, I wouldn’t care if he gets killed.”

“Of course, the phone just had to be dead.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now!? Why the fuck are you making out while a psycho is literally out there to sheesh kebab you?”

“Oh my god, I just lost my brain cells.” And so on and so forth…

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Leon muttered with a smirk, popping a chip in his mouth as he turned his gaze towards the movie.

“Well, I didn’t know it was that bad. I thought it was one of those movies that are so bad they’re good,” you defended as you swigged the rest of the wine that filled a portion of your glass. Your friend just snickered in response, stretching his arms and legs and smiled in fulfilment once he heard the crack of aging bones and staring narrow-eyed at the credit screen in front of him.

Words became trapped inside your heads. You didn’t know what to do from here. The only thing you planned was watching a movie for Valentine’s day – or Single Asses’ day as you call it – and fight shy of anything revolving around romance whether it be some sort of song or movie or something.

You both had been unlucky when it came to romance and intimacy. The closest you had to love were some one-night stands with random strangers and even that was far away from said emotion. Your jobs were complicated and when you both had started in the agency years after the Raccoon City incident, it already began taking a toll on your heads and continued to up until the incident in New York. And so, relationships were the last thing you worried about. Though, that didn’t mean your hearts wouldn’t race every once and a while. Truth be told you caught feelings halfway through your career, both of you. You sometimes entertained the idea of you and your best friend being together while he had conflict between you and Ada. Both of you were people he couldn’t let go of but he felt like one was superior to the other and his brain scrambled around for a bit until the day he almost lost you. It was the day disease almost took over the world: Tall Oaks and China. That was the day he realized just how much you meant to him.

“So, um… I should go now. I’ll see you around.” Leon stood up from the couch and was about to head out your apartment door until he felt something warm enclose around his wrist. He turned around to find your pretty face looking sheepish and pleading – pink creeping from your neck to the tip of your ears.

“I-it’s already late and I… I don’t think you’re in the right condition to drive. You can stay here if you want.” The blush on your face darkened even more and your eyes suddenly found interest on your tiled floor, your grip around Leon loosening. Seeing as how abashed you looked right now, he playfully simpered and decided hey, I teasing is fun!😀

“You don’t think I can drive myself home while drunk? Haven’t you seen me in action back in New York?” He spoke.

All enervation and intoxication suddenly voided out of your body; eyes bulging out of their sockets as his statement caught you unwary for a second. Incoherent words stumbled out of your mouth and none were piecing together to form an acceptable response.

“I’m just playing. I get your intentions. You seriously need to chill the fuck out,” Leon finally said after a few enough rambles were pitched into the room ceaselessly.

Your shoulders sagged and the tension that rapidly built up in you were unfettered in a matter of seconds. “Jesus,” you murmured. “You know how I get when I’m drunk.” Leon continued in his bursts of loud laughter and it only made you sink into your seat even more.

“I’m sorry… You’re just so freaking cute!”

Whoops… Didn’t mean for that to come out…

Leon’s fit of hysterics died down in a trice, feeling like a twelve-year-old whose embarrassment was so immense after getting rejected and being made fun of in front of the whole school that he’d rather melt in a puddle where he can be forgotten.

“I-I’m sorry. That just…flew out of nowhere. I- “

“It’s fine. At least I’m not the only tomato here, right? And um… Thanks… For the compliment,” you said, face burning another 100°C.

“Well, uh,” Leon scratched the nape of his neck and shoved his free hand in his pockets where each of his fingers twiddled with one another, “wanna chat?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be bed anytime soon, unless you’re really tired.”

“No, I’d love for you to accompany me tonight,” he replied.

“Okay, come back here you himbo.” You patted the empty space on the couch Leon previously sat on and smiled at him once he made himself comfortable with his feet resting on your coffee table and hands finding contentment in providing itself as a pillow for his head. “So, how’s life?”

“Okay, okay…fine I’ll…haha…do it.”

A few minutes had passed, talking being the only thing you’d done up until Leon tackled and attacked you with tickles on your sides.

“You, Leon Scott Kennedy,” a giggle fell past your lips, “are…”

“Are?”

“…a fucking…idiot!” Leon fell in a daze at your words and while he was at it you took advantage of his vulnerability and shoved him down to the floor with you collapsing on top of him. Only when he felt the softness of your carpet and the hardness of your floor did he bring himself out of his stupor.

“You sneaky little shit-“ He was about to place both of his hands on your waist and flip you two over when his wrists were suddenly grabbed and pinned above his head not even a second after he blinked.

“Uh uh, not so fast. You really think you could get away with this, don’t you?” A smug grin pulled the corners of your lips. Leon sighed.

“Fine, you win.”

Silence had taken over the room once more, the muffled chirping of crickets outside the closed windows the only sound filling in the missing gaps. Though the light that gave life to your apartment was dim, the distance between your faces was enough for Leon to take in every detail that defined the complexion of your face: from the lines that explicated the years and hardship you had been through, to the little dimples beside your lips that he was sure was as deep as the Pacific Ocean. From the constellation of cute freckles that flecked your cheeks and the bridge of your nose, to the pink hue that gave light to them. You were beautiful and there was no doubt it was one of the many things he admired about you. And there was also no doubt that he wasn’t afraid to voice it out while he laid flushed beneath you.

“You’re cute. You know that, right?”

“Mhm, I’m gonna be hot when I’m sixty.” You giggled at your own joke but when you saw just how awestricken your friend was by you, your smile immediately dropped and you were left flustered on top of him in diffidence and nervousness. And because of your oblivion, your hold on his wrists slackened and he took no time flipping the two of you over and switching up the roles.

“I knew you would fall for that, princess,” Leon remarked and before you could even let out a single letter, he already had his lips smashed onto yours.

A soft gasp fell from your lips but it didn’t take long for you to succumb to the feeling of his supple and slightly chapped lips.

In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment, and in that moment, you were in your pure and vulnerable selves.

It was slow and subtle at first, lips delicately lingering against each other for a moment of lip-lock until a relentless appetency set fire in your bodies. It became sloppy and messy and the abiding flavor that ghosted on your tongues left you wanting more and more of what you could give.

Hands set sail on plump skin and it wasn’t long until pieces of clothing slowly began replacing the space on your carpet where you once laid, Leon having carried you to sit you down on your couch.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this? I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want,” Leon whispered against your kiss-swollen lips, the ghost of his breath sending a delicious chill down your spine.

“I want to… Please?” And that did it for him.

He let out low growl from the depths of his throat before battering your neck with tickling kisses and bites were marks were left as graves created by the inner animal that was housed inside of his body. The brush of his skin against yours arised the short hairs that adorned your own and it didn’t help that the evening cold would tease past you in a speed that sent you shivering to your toes.

“Leon, please.”

“Please what, babe?” Leon kissed along your thighs while he looked at you through the shortness of his lashes.

“I need you, please.”

“In a minute, babe. I fucking need to taste you,” he mumbled, voice raspy with lust and desire.

You anticipated with what was bound to happen next with closed eyes and lip restrained in between teeth. However, no matter how much you prepared yourself for the feeling of his tongue touching your folds, your back still arched at the feeling and a soft moan sounded from an open mouth, hands finding home on Leon’s disheveled hair.

“Oh, fuck!”

“That’s it, baby. Moan for me, moan my name.” That you did. You let a string of curses unknowingly escape your lips along with his name slipping in between them as he lapped your sex with a type of hunger even he couldn’t describe for the life of him. He simply couldn’t get enough of your taste; getting you off once, twice, thrice, until you couldn’t take it anymore and pulled him by his hair before having a sample taste of your own through his lips. And while he was busy savoring your mouth once more, you pushed him on the floor again and straddled his hips impatiently where you felt the twitch of his cock touch your pussy.

“Please, Leon. I want you. I want you so bad. I wanna feel your cock inside me, now.”

“It’s all yours, sweetheart. It’s all yours.”

Permission granted.

Your hand grasped the base of his cock and stroked it a few times before lining the tip up to your entrance, pushing it down once you were sure enough that his dick would just slide in you, and you both moaned at the stretch and the tightness that surrounded him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so tight,” Leon grunted.

You let yourself give in to his astonishing size before you slowly began bouncing up and down his length, your eyelids falling close to the feeling of his dick hitting just the right spots with neither of you trying. You moved in sync together, his hips propelling into yours and gradually speeding up as indulgence replaced the throbbing of your walls at their painful expansion.

“Fuck, Leon, shit.”

This was good, painfully good, but somehow it still wasn’t enough for Leon so he decided to take control again and turned you to your back where he can finally satisfy both you and him much to your contentment. He pounded into you with so much force and the tips of his fingers dug into your skin that you were sure you were going to be sore the next day at work and bruises were going to be a part of your attire for a while. Oh, well, I’m just going to call in sick tomorrow.

“You’re taking my co – ngh – ck so good, baby girl. So – ngh – good.”

Mewls left your mouth at the sound of his broken words and a familiar tight warmth filled your stomach, your moans getting louder and louder each time Leon gave a powerful blow.

“Leon, please, please, please, I’m so close – shit!”

“I know, baby, I know. Just hold on a little longer for me.”

After a few more thrusts, they became sloppy, you noticed, and all pent-up emotion boiled over into one strong orgasm that has you writhing and shaking in relief.

“Well, fuck. That was good,” you spoke in between heavy breathing, the blanket you took from inside your couch now covering your glistening wet bodies.

“Best sex I’ve ever had if I’m being honestly,” Leon added, chuckling despite struggling to get some air himself.

“Yeah. But seriously though,” you steadied your head in your hand and began tracing random doodles on the exposed skin of his chest as you spoke, “Is this going to be a one-time thing or…”

“Well, to be honest, I wanna go further from just being a one-night stand. You know, a real relationship and all that. But if you want it to be a one-time thing, I’ll respect that.” You could tell Leon was disheartened at the thought of him being a one-night stand only but your intention was just the same as his and now, you were sure about your decision.

“I wanna go further than this, too. I love you so fucking much.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page then.” Leon placed a chaste kiss on your lips before he pulled you on top of him and lulled you both into a deep slumber.

*****

Lmao this was longer than intended XD.

#leonkennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon+kennedy+imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon+kennedy+fanfic #leon kennedy imagines #leon s kennedy x reader #leonxreader #resident evil #leon+s+kennedy+x+reader

156 notes · View notes

pasteljeon · 5 years

Text

Crystal Snow (m)

Summary: This holiday season, you decide it’s your turn to take care of the boys that have given the world their everything. For eight days, you whisk them away on an adventure full of laughter, joy, eggnog, sex, and, most importantly—love. Their break, after all, is much overdue.

Pairing: OT7/Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, sub!bts, overdose of fluff, exhibitionism, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral (male & female receiving), dry humping, sex toys (vibrators), dirty talk, teasing, basically a filth fest and i’m literally so sorry

Length: 13.6k

Notes: f i n a l l y !! long overdue, this was supposed to be for Christmas, now remastered as a thank you to all my readers!! this drained everything from me, now i’m gonna disappear to do school. please lmk what you think! <3

December 25

4 pm :: you looked at me and i looked at you / like we’d never look away

The building is bustling with energy, carts and equipment being wheeled through long halls. You dodge another rack of clothing as you swipe your entry card, offering quick waves as familiar faces skid past you with cheerful but brisk greetings.

The music grows louder as you make your way to their practice room, though it cuts off just as you approach the door.

Seven puddles of goo greet you, limbs splaying over the wood flooring as pants fill the room. Their choreographer gives you a tired smile, nodding as he passes by. “They’re all yours.” The background dancers file out alongside him, and you bow at one another as they trail out. “Thank you for your hard work!”

They make no move even as their eyes open to peek up at you, chests still heaving. They watch your figure in the mirror as you pad across the room to scoop up an armload of water bottles.

“Hello baby.” Yoongi blinks up at you sleepily, a whisper of a thanks escaping his parched lips as you hand him the bottle. You step past him to a motionless Namjoon sitting by Jimin who’s slumped by the mirrors. The leader takes the drink gratefully and quickly moves to gulp down half its contents but Jimin is much fussier, making grabby hands at you.

“Feed me,” he murmurs. You giggle but acquiesce, unscrewing the bottle and taking a large swing. He opens his mouth eagerly, swallowing greedily. His tongue flicks yours timidly but without much vivacity given how much energy he’s just exerted.

Something tugs at your sweater and you look down to find Jungkook pouting up at you, having rolled over from where he was laying. You laugh, reaching down to card your fingers through his sweaty locks. You give him a kiss too, and he laps at your lips, catching stray droplets.

Somewhere, someone makes a whiny noise and you know it’s Taehyung with the way it deepens into a distinct grumble.

His eyes gleam triumphantly when Jungkook releases you reluctantly, still flat against the ground as he chugs the remaining amount down, muttering under his breath. “Spoil sport.”

You roll your eyes playfully, taking a seat in front of him as Taehyung wags his eyebrows at you. He takes your hand and puts it against his cheek, a trail of sweat tracking to your skin as he leans in to nuzzle your nose, giving you an Eskimo kiss. “Missed you,” he rasps. You press the uncapped bottle to his lips wordlessly. He drinks voraciously, though his amber irises burn into you, his intense gaze never wavering.

A shallow flush rises in your neck but you ignore it, scooting away to peer down at Hoseok, who grins weakly at you from where he’s collapsed in the centre. You pat down his hairline with a towel, pressing a simple kiss to his temple before handing him a bottle. Next to him, starfished, is Seokjin. He says nothing, just opens his mouth expectantly, to which you laugh and waterfall slowly, careful not to accidentally send him choking to the hospital right before the Christmas holidays.

“It’s Christmas?” Almost like he could read your mind, Jungkook speaks.

Before you can reply, however, Yoongi cuts in frankly, “Who cares? It’s just another work day.” Which promptly sends you frowning.

“Nuh uh. None of this,” you tut. You start walking around, picking up shirts they’ve sweat through and packing them into a duffle bag quickly.

“___, what are you doing?” Seokjin asks, confused. He sits up, reaching over to help you, but you shake him off firmly with a look. He falls back, still watching you. “Kookie, Tae, Jimin and I still have to go record our parts at Rabbit-hyung’s studio.”

“We have to go finish—” Namjoon begins but you hush him with a hand.

“Not this year. Go home kids. Take a break. You all earned it.” You smile, shifting to the side to reveal Bang Sihyuk. He grins at the boys, who all look shocked.

“No way! Does this mean we get to put up the tree tonight?” Jungkook says eagerly.

“Well, what are we waiting for? The rain? Let’s go home!” You call over your shoulder, already waiting for them at the door. “Oh, before I forget. Shower and get ready. We’re going out.”

They stop in their tracks, and you can already see Hoseok visibly wilting. “Do we have to? Can’t we just stay home and watch movies and cuddle?”

“I know you’re all tired but trust me on this. I have a surprise waiting for you, and I think you’re going to like it.”

The boys grumble a little more as they drag themselves to the van. Taehyung and Jimin latch onto you like koalas and you bumble along with the two of them hanging off either arm.

Jungkook falls asleep within the first few minutes into the drive, head resting against your shoulder. You lace your fingers through Yoongi’s who dozes off lightly. His thumb smoothes over your knuckles.

You turn from the window, catching Seokjin’s eye. Moonlight illuminates his face in fractals, giving him an almost ethereal appearance that enhances when he smiles.

He leans over to tuck a stray tendril behind your ear, fingers dipping to tip your chin up. He kisses you softly, cradling your face between his hands like you are made of the finest china.

“Jagiya,” he breathes. You inhale, eyelids fluttering. “Jin.”

You’re pulled away as the driver announces your arrival. “Soon,” you murmur as he helps you off. “Soon, I promise.”

“So,” you begin as you distribute plain white envelopes, each empty save for the scrawl of their name in your handwriting, “These contain the addresses to the restaurants you’ll all be going to. It’s important you go to the one with your name on it, so no switching.” You direct this at the Taehyung, who is already sheepishly retracting his hand at your words.

The boys are scattered around the living room, changed into comfortable attire and toweling off wet hair as they squint doubtfully at what you’ve just handed them. You resume reapplying new pain patches onto Jungkook, who lies on his stomach draped on the couch. He melts further into the material as you knead the tense knots in his shoulders.

“We’re going to different ones?” Namjoon asks, confused as he turns the thin cardstock over in his hands idly.

“Yep. Part one of your gift from us is at each of these places.”

“Us?”

“Everyone at BigHit pitched in. They were all very thoughtful planning for your break this year,” you say, smiling.

The youngest groans as he sits up, rubbing his neck before slipping on the fresh white shirt you offer him.

You gesture for Jimin to take his spot as Jungkook moves to take a seat next to you.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” You say absentmindedly as you dab at a small wound dotting Jimin’s waist. “Since you’ve seen your families.”

Namjoon and Seokjin exchange glances. “Well, yes, but you know we’re perfectly happy spending Christmas here, with you,” he begins.

“Oh! Shit, you guys have to go. It’s time!” You help Jimin tug on his sweater as you herd the boys out the door. “Your cars are waiting for you outside. Go, go!”

“W-wait!” Hoseok says, bracing an arm at the door. He eyes you worriedly. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

You shake your head, lips pursed as you try not to smile. “No, this is a gift specifically for you guys. It wouldn’t be right to have anyone else there. But I’ll be here when you all return.”

Still, the dancer hesitates. You take his hand, squeezing reassuringly. Finally, he nods, but pulls you in for one last, lingering kiss before bounding away.

You watch them go, giggling as they wave exaggeratedly in their respective vehicles until they are well out of sight.

6 pm :: your nerves gather with the altitude / exhale the stress so you don’t come unglued

“Eomma, appa.” He stares at the familiar smiles beaming up at him from the round table. He can feel tears pooling at the edges of his lashes as he blinks rapidly at the scene. Arms wrap around him firmly, the warmth consuming him.

“Merry Christmas, son.”

“They’re waiting for them, aren’t they?” You nod.

“And you? What are you going to do?” Rhys looks at you.

“Me? I’m going home too. I think it’s about time, don’t you?”

December 28

2:16 pm :: i’m taking it slow / feeding my flame

“Jagi?” You make a muffled noise as you hear your door opening, a chilly gust of wintry breeze rifling through before it’s shut again, the telltale noise of boots being tossed and jackets crinkling as they’re being hung.

“___?” You straighten, still chewing as you turn. Seokjin coos at the adorable sight of your cheeks puffing out with the amount of food stuffed inside. You blush, swallowing with difficulty.

“Was that the pie?” Jimin asks as he hands you a glass of water. You nod sheepishly. “Yeah, I was just taste testing, but it was really good.”

“We brought the other dishes you asked for,” Hoseok peeks into the kitchen, Namjoon and Jungkook popping in right after and setting down the take out boxes.

“Shit, it smells really good,” Jungkook says, eyes widening as he inhales deeply. Yoongi snakes his arms around your torso, propping his chin up on your shoulder as he sniffs the air. “Mmm, it does smell delicious.”

“Here, try some of this,” you cut a small piece of the rib roast you just finished, holding it up for Taehyung who wandered over after unpacking the side dishes. He’s nodding vigorously even before he finishes. “It’s good!” He exclaims.

Seokjin jumps in too. “Hey! Let me have a taste too!”

You laugh. “Okay, okay. The turkey’s about done so grab some plates and we can start eating.”

Namjoon starts distributing the disposable plates, Seokjin with cutlery and Jungkook helps you set the turkey out of the oven and onto the table.

“Chim, can you pour the—mm.” He cuts you off with a kiss, mouth moving against yours sweetly. “The—the eggnog,” you finish breathlessly. He grins, stepping to the side for the cabinet above you for glasses.

You wait until the boys have piled enough onto their own dishes before you start ladling soup into a bowl, stealing a piece of broccoli from Seokjin’s plate as he passes by.

Jimin remains attached to you even as he deals out eggnog, pulling you onto his lap as you finally settle down. Jungkook and Taehyung are busy setting up the gaming consoles whilst arguing with Seokjin over what games to play.

Hoseok and Namjoon are talking between bites on the other sofa, the former’s signature laughter ringing in the air periodically.

Yoongi doesn’t say much, just shuffles over to lean against you. He seems comfortable, munching on his food as he watches Seokjin whine about being tag teamed over Mario.

Jungkook spots you and quickly ditches the argument, grabbing his controller and plate before plopping down before your feet, resting between your legs.

A quiet bark startles you and you quickly make space for Yeontan who scrambles onto your lap, circling once before settling down. You pluck a treat from the bowl on the side and feed the puppy who licks your fingers happily.

“How’s that new track you’ve been working on going?” You murmur, running your fingers through the Pomeranian’s soft fur. Yoongi watches with hazy eyes as you rub Yeontan’s ears, the dog making a low-pitched whine of contentment.

“Dunno yet. Still trying to give it a good base,” the composer sighs. You smile when you feel his hand creep into yours, squeezing tightly. He refuses to look at you, a dark flush staining his neck.

“Could you … give it a listen when you get the chance?” Yoongi clears his throat, attention still trained on the screen.

“Of course,” you giggle inwardly as you kiss his cheek. Cute.

“Movie time!” Jimin announces as he returns from where he’d gone to grab your selections. He dumps them on the ground in front of the players, effectively halting the game at hand as he spreads the DVDs out. “What’ll it be today? Action? Romance? Horror?”

Hoseok gives him a dirty look.

“Marvel,” Jungkook beams.

“No,” Namjoon deadpans. “If I have to watch another twelve hours of Tony Stank losing Pepper, I’m handing in my resignation to Bang PD in the morning.”

“Horror it is!” Jimin declares, brandishing a few classics.

Hoseok closes his eyes and screams.

??? :: standing in the eye of the storm / ready to face this, dying to taste this, sick sweet warmth

It’s warm. It’s so comfortable you snuggle in closer, an arm braced around your bare waist protectively.

“I think we’re drunk,” you whisper, a giggle erupting.

“Definitely—mm—should’ve, ah, mixed that eggnog with, mh, something,” you pant, arching your neck as Jungkook sucks lilac galaxies across the expanse of your neck, Jimin peppering kisses down your spine. When did you get naked? Your head spins pleasurably and you gasp when the singer moves to nip at your inner thigh.

“I need you,” Jungkook whimpers, grinding against your hip. You can feel his length twitch against you, hot and hard beneath his boxers.

It’s a blur after that, bodies pressed together as you all stumble toward the bedroom. Limbs tangled, a coil building with every thrust, reaching a high with a drawn out moan and a hoarse yell of your name, breaths mingling in a sated haze.

December 29

1 pm :: i won’t soothe your pain / i won’t ease your strain

You thank the customs officer as she returns your passport with a smile, stuffing it away in your bag as you make your way to the exit, luggage rolling in your other hand.

“Oh my God,” you breathe. You drop the handle of your suitcase, stepping closer. Raising a hand, you trail it up his arm, squeezing his bicep firmly.

“Have you—have you been working out?” You say, stunned.

Yoongi smirks. “Yep.”

“How come I hadn’t noticed this before?” They watch your eyes grow round with fascination, surveying him from head to toe.

You’re practically eye fucking him with the way you’re undressing him mentally, gaze intense and heavy, your tongue darting out to run across the lower seam of your lips.

“Don’t do that here, love,” Namjoon murmurs, grip tightening over the metal handle of his luggage.

“Shit,” Jungkook mutters, tugging his oversized hoodie lower over his dark-washed jeans.

“Hm,” is all you say, giving the rapper a final, appraising look before sweeping off to the plane.

“We are so fucked,” Taehyung sighs. Yoongi grins. “Yep.”

2 pm :: so you won’t hurt anymore / so you can smile more

“Um, excuse me; can’t you see this seat is taken?”

You can hear the indignant undertones of Seokjin’s outraged squawk, and you round the edge of the entrance just in time to catch the elder staring in rather comical disbelief at the way Jungkook straight up swipes RJ from the cushioned rest and plops himself onto it instead.

“___!” Seokjin whines immediately upon spotting you lingering at the side, a fond smile playing on your lips as he reaches out for you. You give him an exasperated look, shaking your head as you make your way to them.

Setting your bag to the side, you tap his nose playfully. “Jinnie, play fair.” And to Jungkook, you flick his forehead. “Ow,” he whines, rubbing the skin with a pout. “Mean noona.”

“Don’t be a brat,” you click your tongue, giving him a pointed look. His cheeks darken visibly, biting his lip as he ducks his head. Doe eyes peeking up at you from his bangs, pupils already blown out. He looks hungry.

“Later, baby. It’s been a long day. You should rest,” you say, amused.

With an exaggerated groan, he kicks his shoes off and makes himself comfortable. “Fine,” he says faux grumpily. “Good night.”

6 pm :: you promised we’d go together / but you’re leaving, leaving

“Flying is always the hardest part,” Namjoon scrubs his face wearily. He’s flopped onto the chair across from you, already fully reclined. “Although I really shouldn’t say that.” He corrects himself quickly, giving himself a bodily shake as if to physically banish the thought.

Your Joonie, always so conscientious, aware of the world and of himself. The mentality he carried matters to him. Your heart warms at the knowledge of this beautiful, intelligent man before you.

Unwrapping the thin blanket from the complementary flight packet, you swing a leg over his waist, shifting until the two of you were in a comfortable position. Finally, you settle, drawing the coverlet to your chins.

“It’s okay to feel tired. You should be honest with yourself,” you murmur, fingers tracing arbitrary patterns on his chest.

Namjoon lets out an extensive sigh. It sounds uncharacteristically hollow, and you look up, worried.

“Kiss me,” he appeals. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he hoists you up to sit on his lap.

You relieve his stress in other ways, tongue down his throat and palms splayed on his chest, buttons ripped from his shirt as you ride him until the lights fade.

12 am :: and i’m not scared / of your stolen power / i see right through you any hour

“Hey.” Hoseok peers up from his fringe, exhaustion lining the dark circles beneath his eyes. The typically healthy glow to his sun kissed skin is muted, paler in the light of dawn. He’s massaging his legs, a post-concert habit he’s picked up, the strain and wear on his muscles fueling a raw burn.

“Hi,” he gives you a small smile. Despite the brief period of respite they had prior to this break, their line of work never really rested. Hoseok had spent the better part of the morning after packing experimenting with the choreography for some of the new material Namjoon and Yoongi had previewed for him.

“You overworked yourself again,” you state. He nods, guilt bleeding into the way his eyebrows quirk. He’s so like Yoongi, the two peas in a pod when it came to their individual workaholic tendencies.

“I didn’t mean to,” he admits. “I was only gonna stay for an hour, but before I knew it, it was time to go.”

You wiggle out of Jimin’s hold, gently prying his arms from where they’re wrapped securely around your waist. The 95 liner makes an unhappy sound, burying his face in your stomach as he tightens his grip.

“Jiminie.” You coax, brushing his hair back from his temple. He lets out a soft sigh and loosens his hold. “Miss you a’ready,” he slurs. Hoseok watches with soft eyes as Jimin kisses you back lazily, still drifting in and out of slumber.

“Come here,” the dancer requests faintly. You adjust the blanket over the younger once more before carefully toeing over the myriad of legs sprawled over the floor.

He scoots over, patting the space of the spacious seat, one of the many perks and necessities of their growing affluence.

“Can’t sleep?” He shakes his head ruefully, smile crooked.

You help him knead his thighs, easing some of the soreness. He curls in close, finally drifting off as you smooth over his locks rhythmically, humming a familiar tune under your breath.

7 pm EST :: you said it wouldn’t be love / but we felt the rush (felt the love) / it made us believe it there was only us

“Whoa!” Jungkook presses himself against the window as the car pulls up to the resort, eyes sparkling as he takes in the familiar cartoon characters of old-time favourites. “No way! I don’t think we’ve ever been to the main park before.”

“Tokyo’s Disneyland was just more convenient with all our promotions and travelling,” Namjoon agrees, slipping his phone into his pocket to join in the youngest’s state of admiration. Clouds were sparse, Florida’s heat seeping through with strong rays of sun even in the late afternoon.

“Did ___-noona pick this hotel?” Taehyung asks, neck craning to squish himself next to Jimin to catch a view.

Their manager nods from where he’s consulting the papers in his notepad. “She thought it might be something you’d all prefer over Four Seasons.”

“God, I love her,” Jimin says dreamily. Hoseok pats his head, grinning just as widely.

“Hyung, no,” Namjoon says when Seokjin opens his mouth. The vocalist instantly pouts. “Hey! I had a really good one.”

“Okay, I’m going to check us in,” Sejin says, one foot already through the door. “Meet us at the lobby when you’re ready.”

They make noises of agreement before five heads turn to observe two sleeping babies piled on top of one another.

Your face is tucked into Yoongi’s shoulder, his fingers gripping yours tightly, even in slumber. His other arm curls over your waist loosely, eyebags thrown into sharp relief under the bright rays filtering in through shaded glass.

“Let’s wake Yoongi-hyung up. I can carry noona,” Jungkook suggests, leaving Jimin’s jaw floored. “Hey, wait! I was just about to—”

“Good luck,” Jin claps his shoulder as he breezes by.

“Wouldn’t it be weird if Kookie just walked in with her like that?” Hoseok says absently as they wait at the side of the vehicle, baggage in hand.

“…Nah.” They chorus, chuckling as Jungkook ambles slowly toward the lobby with you tucked safely in his embrace, the flow of foot traffic ignoring him completely.

“It’s Christmas break. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that a lot of couples have come like that,” Namjoon shakes his head in amused exasperation just as Yoongi tumbles from the car, groaning as he rubs his neck.

“Fuck, that hurt like a bitch,” the composer mutters, spine cracking as he straightens. Jimin covers his mouth as he yawns, tears pricking at the intensity.

“Language, hyung!” Their leader scolds half-heartedly as they wave at their driver who moves to pull the vehicle into parking before making their way to the hotel entrance.

“I call dibs on rooming with noona!” Taehyung yells, suitcase rolling loudly behind him as he skids to a halt in front of a door. He bounces on the balls of his feet excitedly, eyes practically sparkling as he waits impatiently for the remainder of his members to catch up.

“Hyung! Be quiet,” Jungkook hisses, shifting his weight carefully as he watches you stir lightly in his arms. He’s gently cupping your neck, hair loosely braced so he doesn’t accidentally end up pulling on the strands painfully. Your lips are parted slightly, breathing even and expression peaceful. He wants to lean down and kiss you. He catches Taehyung wiggling his eyebrows at him suggestively at the corner of his eyes and flushes, swiping at him with a foot.

“Ow!” Taehyung whines, rubbing his ass with a pout. “So mean, Jungkookie.”

“Shut up,” he mutters, neck blazing scarlet.

Meanwhile, Seokjin, with RJ tucked under one and the maknae’s ridiculously heavy bag held on the other, resorts to kicking his luggage in short distances as a makeshift means of transport. Hoseok’s voice is muted though remains animated as he chatters onto the eldest. Yoongi and Jimin are similarly dragging themselves to meet them, still struggling to shake off their drowsiness.

Namjoon stands off to the side, listening as their manager quietly explains the itinerary for the afternoon. Sejin hands him a few papers and two key card holders, gesturing at the two neighbouring rooms and points at the three across from them. He makes one last sweep to ensure the boys are all present and unharmed before disappearing into his own, nodding at the other staff members—including their bodyguards—that have opted in to help supervise and provide personal safety for the band. Left to their own devices, Namjoon quickly raises his hand before Taehyung could burst from sheer enthusiasm. The singer is left with his mouth rounding the first syllable of his word, jaw snapping closed with a deepened pout.

“Okay. Here’s how this is going to work. Jungkook will room with ___. The rest of us have to pick straws.”

“What?!” Five incredulous voices meet his announcement almost in complete unison, and the leader grimaces sheepishly. “Sorry guys, but this is the only way it’s going to stay fair.”

“I was going to carry her first, but Kookie stole her away before I could!” Jimin protests, suddenly wide awake at the news. He crosses his arms huffily and glares at the youngest, who’s starting to look rather smug.

“You snooze, you lose, hyung,” Jungkook grins.

“Aish, you brat—”

“Mmm, Jungkookie?” Jimin’s arm freezes from where he’s rolling up his sweater to beat the living shit out the maknae when he hears your sleepy voice. You’re rubbing your eyes so adorably, cheeks puffy. Jungkook swears he falls more and more in love with you every time he looks at you. His heart practically inflates like a goddamn party balloon as he brushes away stray tendrils from your forehead.

“Sorry baby,” he says softly. “Were we being too loud?” He cradles you closer to his chest, your hands coming up to press against him, cuddling closer. You’re blinking slowly, peering up at him through your lashes.

“Mmm,” you shake your head. Taehyung coos, and you childishly bat his hands away from where he’s reaching over to pinch your cheeks.

“You can put me down, Kookie,” you say sleepily. He gives you a doubtful look but reluctantly helps you to your feet.

“Thank you.” He ducks his head, flushing lightly as you press a kiss against his temple.

“Aigoo, take your bag, kid,” Seokjin says, shoving the expansive black duffle into his arms before rotating his shoulder, groaning. “What do you have in there? Rocks?”

“No, just a couple of dumbbells,” he answers distractedly, still feeling light-headed from your touch as he easily picks up his bag.

“Let’s just draw from a hat,” Hoseok suggests as he takes off his bucket hat, running his fingers through his flattened locks. You spot your own baggage sitting next to Taehyung’s feet, patting his cheek fondly as he smiles, kissing your palm. Ripping out a few loose leaf pages from a legal pad, you scribble their names on unevenly torn strips of paper and drop them into the dancer’s proffered accessory.

“Yes!” Hoseok and Taehyung cheer, hugging each other tightly. Namjoon and Seokjin exchange high-fives. Yoongi and Jimin groan simultaneously.

“Why do we even need two rooms?” Yoongi complains. “I bet we could fit all of us in just one.”

“I don’t think the beds are that huge,” you giggle, a smile playing on your lips as you dump the papers into one hand and dust Hoseok’s hat off with the other. He grins, shaking out his curls.

“Let’s just cancel the other room,” the composer murmurs, coming behind you to wrap his arms around your torso. He noses the length of your neck, lips soft as they brushed your skin. Jimin seems to second this idea strongly with the way he looks at you imploringly with wide eyes and pout. “I wanna sleep with you too, noona,” he whines.

“I can talk to manager-nim,” Namjoon offers.

“I’ll go with you,” Seokjin decides. “I wanna check out the buffet while we’re at it too.”

Yoongi snorts. “The real reason why you want to go.”

Meanwhile, Taehyung is unlocking the door, shouldering it open and practically tossing his bags aside as he sighs happily, throwing himself onto one of the two huge king sized mattresses.

Seokjin shrugs unabashedly, plopping his own bag onto the hardwood desk rounding the common area.

“Is this Ariel?” Hoseok asks, wandering over to the bedroom as he sits at the edge of the same mattress, smoothing it over with a hand to examine the design.

“Yeah,” you say shyly. “I wasn’t really sure what you guys would prefer, but you did mention that you liked her—oof!” Your squeak was cut short as the rapper reaches over to pull you onto his lap, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I like it,” he murmurs. Taehyung makes a muffled noise of agreement, lost somewhere in his nuzzling of the pillows.

“Alright, hyung, let’s go,” Namjoon calls, propping open the door as he flips through the additional papers Sejin just handed him. “Just a sec,” Seokjin replies, rummaging for his sunglasses. “I’m gonna grab a snack while we’re at it.”

“___’s right here, hyung,” Jimin chimes in teasingly. He’s opted for a self-tour of the bathroom, one of your missing headbands already pushed up over his bangs and cleansing cream spread over his fingertips.

“I said a snack, not a whole eight course meal,” Seokjin answers, huffing. “Okay, let’s go.”

The door closes quietly behind them before you could stutter out a reply, Hoseok busying you with his lips, showering you in soft kisses over the apples of your ripened cheeks.

“Oh hey, there’s a folding bed with the couches,” Yoongi says, head popping from the side as he tests the spring of the sofa. “I think I’m gonna take a nap, actually …”

With one last sweet kiss, you pull away from Hoseok, who whines a bit but acquiesces as you murmur something into his ear, touching his jaw gently before he allows you to slip from his hold. He wanders over to join Yoongi, who lets out a disgruntled groan when the dancer clambers over him and settles on the right, phone in hand.

“Kookie, c’mere,” you call. The maknae comes bounding over, shaking out his locks as he pulls on a fresh shirt. It’s a plain grey tee, a tag peeking from the tips as the fabric flutters to a rest against his hips. He’s also changed into a comfortable pair of matching grey sweats.

“Lay on your stomach,” you direct as you open your travel sized med kit you’d started carrying with you whenever you travelled with the boys. The sheer amount of injuries they sustained on a regular basis had you mobilizing a mini-hospital, particularly for Jimin and Jungkook. The pair seemed especially susceptible to accidents out of the most unexpected of situations. Like ripping his heel from colliding into furniture during rehearsal just before a stage.

You remember how devastated he was, stitches stretching across skin, all wrapped in medical tape. Seokjin had been the one to call you, explaining the situation and you flew over the night of despite having been in court for most of the day. He crushed you to him the moment you stepped in, that beautiful but tired smile playing your lips, arms trembling as he buried his face in your chest. He didn’t say much, just a quiet, “please … take me home, noona.” To which you answered with a soft kiss to his temple, coaxing him up as he hobbles next to you, slowly making your way to the car where the eldest has been patiently waiting. His lashes were wet, tickling your neck from where his head remained hidden, pressed against your skin.

His doe eyes were wide and teary as he scrubbed his cheeks, leaning heavily against you. Your thumb grazed over his knuckles soothingly as he stared out the window stubbornly, upper lip quivering. You stayed with him that night, your mere presence wordless comfort as he curled up at your side, stroking his hair.

Offstage, you watched as he sang; a single silhouette under searing lights, grounded in a leather seat. You knew guilt and remorse simmered in his gaze, and if you could tell, so could his hyungs and the millions cheering for him.

“Ready to go?” You smiled, shouldering your bag as you cast one final look over your shoulder. The bass pulsates through the stadium grounds, echoing through the arena rows and reverberating through darkened skies.

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.” You missed the way Jungkook looked back at the wings, as if searching for a glimpse of you. But the curtains billowed behind you, footsteps lost in the noise.

“I missed you, that day. Why didn’t you come say goodbye?” Jungkook asks now, and your fingers pause from where you’re fiddling with his thin shirt. A glance to the side tells you Taehyung is fast asleep, cuddled against a pillow, gentle snores escaping parted lips. At some point, Jimin had climbed into the empty spot next to him, dragging a light sweater over his 95 liner companion and another for himself before collapsing.

“Lie down, baby,” you repeat, avoiding his heavy gaze as you push his top up. His hair, returned to its natural ebony hue, falls over his eyes, fluffy and soft. He’s been growing it out recently, the wavy strands framing his forehead. Lines of muscles stretching across gorgeous golden skin, you can’t help but run a hand down his perfectly toned torso. He lets out a quiet, shaky sigh. You can feel the goosebumps raise, and he catches your hand just as you thumb his v-line.

“Don’t,” he says, voice catching as he presses his hand over yours. “You’re distracting me.”

“Lie down and I’ll explain,” you try instead. A flicker of doubt shadows in his eyes, but he nods, scrambling onto the bed. He settles on his stomach, fidgeting slightly as he tries to find a comfortable position. He knows you’re looking at him with fond exasperation, ears pinking as he finally stops, resting his cheek against his forearms.

Swinging a leg over his narrow waist, you perch on his plump ass. You grin to yourself when you hear his muted grunt.

You carefully peel away the new pain patches he’d added this morning, just before the flight, and he barely flinches at the burn. “I’m sorry. You had to carry me,” you murmur, tracing the reddened skin outlining where the medicated dressing had been. He twists almost immediately, instinctively moving to reassure you.

“Don’t move,” you say automatically. Jungkook relaxes reluctantly, and you pat his side gently, letting him know that though you meant it, you also knew it was a choice, one made willingly and without an ounce of regret.

From the kit, you squeeze some lightly-scented lotion onto your palms, rubbing them together to warm it up before placing them over his shoulders, starting slow. He groans in satisfaction when your fingers dig at a particularly hard knot.

“Your fingers are magic,” he sighs faintly, eyes fluttering in bliss. He seems to have forgotten his earlier query all together, and falls silent soon after, as you make your way down the expanse of his back, sore muscles loosening with every knead. The room is quiet, tranquility broken by an occasional shaky exhale from Jungkook, a symphony of soft snores from the slumbering members and distant chirping of birds.

Some twenty minutes pass, your hands tiring as you wipe them down with a towel. You notice the maknae has succumbed to exhaustion himself, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

Lifting yourself up and over, you begin returning your materials to the kit, bending over to carefully tuck the container next to your luggage, trying to reduce as much noise as possible.

Pulling the thin linen over him, you check to ensure he’s comfy before taking a seat next to him. Your phone buzzed from where it was thrown onto the drawer. Rubbing your eyes wearily, you squint at the screen.

[7:50] Joonbug: You awake, baby? Wanna grab some dinner?

Smiling, you mute the device before answering.

[7:50] You: Joonieeeeeeee! yessss I am. Everyone else is sleeping though, should I wake them?

He gives you the affirmative and adds that Seokjin is busy hitting up every stranger he’s met in the lobby, and begs you to save him.

You wait another five minutes before putting your phone away, leaning over to wake Jungkook with a soft kiss on his cheekbone. “Wake up, baby. Dinner time.” He groans, lifting his head up to blink at you groggily. “’M not hungry.” His voice is raspy, and you give him a knowing look when his stomach gurgles in response. He flushes darkly and buries his face back into the pillow. “Okay, okay. I’m coming.”

As Jungkook lethargically swims around the bed to feel for his previously discarded pieces of clothing, he finds his shirt and shorts folded neatly next to his pillow. You move to wake the remaining members as he does.

Jimin is an easy one to wake. He’s already stirring, having only been napping lightly and heard your quiet attempts to rouse the youngest. He’s rubbing his eyes, making a soft noise of surprise as your lips touch his, before melting quickly. His hands cup yours over his face, breath warm as he sighs happily when you part.

“I love you,” he whispers. Your heart flutters, cheeks colouring unwittingly as you stroke the underside of his jaw. He’s flushed similarly, eyes half-lidded, dopey smile growing as you say, “I love you more, baby.” He nuzzles your nose and then reluctantly allows you to roll over to tend to Taehyung as he stretches briefly before moving to splash some water on his face.

“TaeTae~” You sing. You tug the pillow he’s hugging to his chest away and wedge yourself in between instead. His arms tighten around you, leg hiking over your thigh. Taehyung automatically nuzzles his cheek against your chest. It’s so comfortable you’re tempted to stay, but the distant clattering and low murmurings floating from the ensuite bathroom urges you to return to work. You nudge him gently. “Tae, wake up.”

He only snuggles in closer, unwilling to rouse just yet. You kiss the corner of his eye. “Dinner.” He squirms a bit at the ticklish feeling of your lips and finally lifts his head to peer blearily at you.

Taehyung blinks once before his head drops, nestling right back. “No,” he whines childishly. The vibration of his throat, though hoarse, still manages to sound ridiculously sexy, sending a shiver down your spine. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and you can feel his smile from where he’s pressed against you as he thumbs the sliver of skin revealed from where your shirt rises over your hip.

“We can stay in bed all you want another day,” you promise. Taehyung lifts the fabric with the tip of his nose, scattering kisses on your stomach lazily. “Mmm. I was dreaming of dandelions. They were so pretty.”

“Yeah?” Your fingers knot in his silky locks, a contented sigh escaping as you lean into the comforter.

“Yeah. But not as pretty as you,” the dark-haired man says dreamily.

“Horndog,” you say playfully, giggling as you feel the way his mouth curls into a smile, the outline etched against your lower abdomen. You allow him to remain nestled in your warmth for another minute before tugging at him.

Taehyung groans, grudgingly detaching his lips from where he’d busied himself with making his way down your navel, letting go of the band of your jeans. “Fineee. I’m up. But if Jimin used my toothbrush again, I swear …”

“Last time I checked, you were the one that used his,” you giggle.

Taehyung huffs, pouting as he slides off the mattress slowly. “Schematics.”

“I packed an extra for you,” you remind him with a light pat to his buttocks. He yelps softly when you give him a firm squeeze. “Front pocket.”

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively when you let go, but you give him a pointed look, thoroughly amused. “Go clean up, Tae.” He pads away to join his friend obediently, pausing by your suitcase briefly to claim the product.

Pulling on the sweater the dancer had flung over a seat earlier as you pass, you kneel at the edge of the provisional mattress where the two composers are sprawled, peacefully unaware.

“Seokie. Hoseokie.”

“Jagi?” Hoseok rasps, voice thick with sleep.

You touch his neck lightly. “Hi, baby. Time to wake up.”

He rouses slowly. Fingers stroking golden skin where his shirt rides down, exposing his gorgeous collarbones.

“Dinner,” you say. Slipping lower to trace innocent figure eights on his firm stomach.

“W-w’at’s for dinner?” His breath stutters as he blindly grasping your wrist. He moves it up, flattens your palm against his pecs.

“Dunno,” you murmur, nails scraping his nipples. He squirms, spine arching as he presses himself closer to your touch. “Let’s go find out.”

Hoseok whines at the loss of contact, tries to follow it, but you push him down gently. “Later.”

“Mmm.” He kisses the pads of your fingers where they’re outlining the shape of his cupid’s bow.

Finally, he sits up, eyes still closed, chestnut locks in complete disarray.

“You’re adorable,” you sigh, cupping his cheek. Hoseok’s smile is lopsided, drowsy as he leans into you.

A disgruntled sound echoes from where another face is burrowed deep into the comforter, interrupting your moment as you both turn to look at the source.

“I’ll let you deal with this one,” Hoseok snickers, working his shoulder as he swings his legs over the edge. You snag the hem of his tee, pulling him back for one last kiss. “Mmpf—”

“Meet you in five.” The dance makes a noise of affirmation against your lips, resisting the urge to melt beneath you as you part. He buries his face in your nape, inhaling deeply. He’s always liked your scent, light yet achingly sweet. Headier when he’s entangled with you, sweat glistening on your skin like a sheen of seduction. Of temptation. A mild addiction, and you indulge him thoroughly. Hoseok kisses the underside of your jaw, pants already beginning to draw uncomfortably tight.

God, your ability to bewitch him without even trying. Some nights it’s beyond frustrating, has him twisting and turning in his sleep, dreams tormented by the taste of your warm flesh, memory of your supple thighs and soft lips. Your kindness, the vibrancy of your spirit.

Shit, you’re going to derail him.

“Going,” he says thickly, adjusting himself quickly before clumsily scrambling off the bed. He catches the sly quirk of your mouth before he disappears around the corner, as if you know exactly what you do to him.

It’s just the two of you now. Someone’s running a shower in the background, likely Jungkook if his earlier expression of feeling rather filthy following a fifteen hour flight without having taken a beat was any indication. You can make out the distinct reverberation of Taehyung and Jimin—Hoseok joining in shortly—discussing their individual route ideas for the next day in excited tones.

“You’re staring.” His lips barely move, voice hoarse.

“I’m gazing.”

“It’s creepy.”

“It’s romantic,” you correct with a giggle. He peeks up at you with a look, mouth twitching, before promptly stuffing himself back into the couch.

“Come on, baby. They’re waiting for us.” Yoongi groans lowly, eyebrows knitting as he curls into himself tighter.

“Yoon—oh!” Your breath is knocked out of you as he suddenly rolls over, trapping you beneath him.

“Aren’t you hungry?” His nose skims your inner wrist where you’ve reached up to stroke his cheek.

He lowers his head to nip at you. “Hungry. Just not for food.”

Your leg moves up to hitch over his waist, knee pressed against his side. Arms sliding around his neck, you smile up at him. “Yeah? Then what are you hungry for?”

“You … obviously.” He kisses you languidly as he lifts you up until you’re straddling his lap, hands splayed on your legs, wishing you had worn those shorts he’d yanked from you at dawn. Not because he didn’t want you to wear them, no. You’d looked so delectable he had bent you against the wall, shoved a hand down your front and fingered you to completion while he rutted against you, hands groping your flesh desperately, coming in his jeans like a horny teenager. He owes you at least five pairs now.

Taehyung’s head pokes in from the corner. “Are you guys coming? Jin-hyung keeps complaining about his stomach. If we don’t go soon, he’s going to start without us.”

Yoongi sighs. “Okay. Let’s go.”

The composer sticks up his middle finger at the younger’s smirk as he passes. “Dick.”

8:10 pm :: i never regretted the day i called you mine

Dinner is rowdy.

It’s a delightfully expected affair after having been with the boys for so long. Their excitable yet humble natures are prone to alleviated activity, especially whilst shoveling good food on an empty stomach after such a long flight.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Seokjin asks between mouthfuls. Your chin is propped up, watching them with fond eyes as they laugh and converse amongst themselves. “I like watching you guys eat.”

“Or we could eat you,” Taehyung mumbles, smile innocent as you whip around to stare at him in shock. He’s twirling a piece of noodle on his fork.

“We are not having this conversation right now,” you say pointedly, pushing the utensil into his mouth.

“Why? It wouldn’t be the first time,” the singer nearly chokes when you elbow him hard.

“We’re in public.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time for that, either.”

Your entire face is on fire, letting out a strangled squeak. The only one with any decency is Namjoon, who looks thoroughly scandalized.

“Dessert, anyone?” Jungkook catches onto your pleading expression and echoes your sentiment, grabbing your hand and leading you to the sweets section quickly.

“Thank you,” you say, relieved as you kiss his cheek. “My saviour.” The maknae ducks his head shyly, fumbling with the plate as you turn to see their leader catching up.

“You, too?” Namjoon nods, exasperated as he snags a cone from the side. “If I have to hear another word about food play, I’m going to puke.”

You poke at his dimple. “As if you hadn’t done the same. You, Tae and your exhibitionism kink.” He rubs his neck sheepishly. “Point taken.”

“I don’t know how people can eat whipped cream,” The rapper comments as you make your way back. You return with a bowl of mint chocolate chip, but that’s not what they’re staring at.

He has two large scoops of plain chocolate ice cream, topped with graham cracker crumbs, chocolate chunks, chocolate sauce, whipped cream and a touch of sprinkles.

And promptly smashes them all together.

“Oh, God,” Seokjin squawks, disgust and judgment emanating like microwaves.

“Hyung, you should try some!” Jungkook says cheerfully, spooning a sizable portion, seemingly unbothered as you all watch in equal parts revulsion and awe.

“I don’t know whether to be horrified or impressed,” Hoseok whispers to you.

“A little bit of both,” you murmur, stomach queasy as you push away your ration, the sight suddenly unappealing.

9:20 pm :: hey, whatcha doing for the rest of your life? / i don’t even know what i’m doing tonight

The evening is peaceful, the distinct sound of conversation muted, footsteps muffled by the gentle chirping of crickets.

He’s contemplative tonight, more so than usual. It verges onto brooding, edges into meditative.

Even the furrow in his brow is pensive.

“What’s going on?” You reach up to smooth over the frown lines. Namjoon looks up, blinking as he reorients himself.

He takes your hand, kissing your palm with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Deep in thought.”

“I know. I just want to know what about,” you say, amused.

“I’m worried,” he admits. “This tour took a lot out of us, especially Jimin and Taehyung. Jungkook told me you spoke to him earlier, but I was wondering if you could—”

“Joon,” you stop him, straightening the collar of his Cuban collar shirt. “They’ll come to me when they’re ready. The best I could’ve done was being there for them when they needed it.”

“So much scrutiny. The eyes of the world on us. Almost Jungkook’s entire life has been this spotlight. And Jimin—he’s come so far, learned to accept himself as he is. Taehyung’s opening up more. Hoseok’s stopped pretending all the time. Jin’s starting to recognize his worth. Yoongi’s finally taking care of himself. But what if—”

“There are no what ifs. Just what is. ‘Born as an idol, reincarnated as an artist’, right?” You rise on your tippy toes, and he bends down to meet you as you press your forehead against his. “They’re okay. You’re all okay. Better than okay.”

“This vacation will be good for all of us,” Namjoon concludes with a sigh. His breath is warm, minty as it ghosts across your lips. “To clear our heads. Figure out where we want to go from here.”

“Just enjoy it,” you answer. The affection in your tone subdues the anxiety in his heart easily. “Like the 20 something year old men you all are.”

When he kisses you, his apprehension thaws. Namjoon slides his fingers through your hair, arms cradling you gingerly and kisseskisseskisses you until you’re breathless and looking up at him in wonderment, eyes soft and tender and every nerve is on fire, every touch setting him ablaze.

You’re looking at him like you love him.

Fuck, you’re so beautiful.

December 30

12:05 am :: it’s everything you wanted / it’s everything you don’t

“Jimin. Jimin!” He shoots up, waking with a gasp. Dark hair disheveled, looking around wildly. Sheets tangled and body burning. He pulls on his shirt violently, the material plastered to him like a second skin.

“Hey, hey.” Your hand is cool, steadies him as it rests against his shoulder. Jimin thrashes, struggling to wrestle the fabric from his chest.

“Hey—hey! Jimin, look at me.”

You hold his face, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s crying, cheeks damp.

“Bad dream?” He nods furiously, hiccupping as he weakly tries to scrub them away with the heel of his palms.

“Let me get you some water,” you say softly as you coax them away, lacing your fingers through his. Jimin shakes his head rapidly, squeezing your hands as he croaks, “Don’t go. Please.”

His throat feels sticky, stomach roiling. Nauseous.

You rearrange the pillows and help him sit up against them. “Breathe, baby.”

Jimin buries his head in your stomach, still trembling as he clutches at your waist. “N-noona …”

“Oh, Chimmy,” you say sorrowfully, stroking his hair. His pain is palpable; the mental scarring much deeper than he often lets on. “What’s going on in that busy head of yours?”

His locks are damp and you push his fringe back to press a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Jimin.”

The singer’s grip slackens, letting out a shaky sigh as he reluctantly allows you to pull away. He whispers a small, “okay” at your murmured reassurance and watches as you make your way to the kitchen. Taehyung takes your place shortly as he returns from the bathroom with a cold towel.

Jimin can dimly make out the sounds of his remaining band members speaking in lowered tones just outside of the bedroom, likely woken by his vocal thrashing.

Guilt wells up and he pulls the covers up to his chin as he sinks down in embarrassment.

In the living room where they’ve gathered around the sofa bed, Hoseok sighs. You glance over from where you’re fiddling with the coffee maker.

He looks weary, rubbing his temples as he explains, “He’s been crying and sleep talking almost every other night since Osaka. It’s died down recently but he always says he doesn’t remember what the dreams are.”

Yoongi throws an arm over his eyes from where he’s still lying down. “Do you have any ideas on what they could be about?” He’s tired, they all are. It’s been a long day.

But it’s Jimin, and they’d do anything for him.

“Not a clue,” the dancer groans, flopping back. You rip open a tea bag, listening silently as you fill up the hotel endorsed mug with hot water and drizzle it lightly with honey. A small packet, carried solely for these moments.

“Something to do with the tour, probably,” Namjoon guesses. His fingers drum against his thigh, hair a crow’s nest with how fiercely the strands are sticking up. Seokjin, too, looks uneasy as he runs a hand down his face.

Jungkook’s chewing his lower lip, expression clouded.

“Go back to bed,” you urge them as you walk over with the steaming cup. “You can’t rush him.”

“I’m just worried he’ll break down,” the eldest says tersely, trailing after you as you tug at him to stand. The rapper follows suit, and the two exchange their concerns with the vocalist in question quietly.

Jimin takes your proffered drink gratefully, the pit in his stomach alleviated with every sip.

“I don’t—I don’t remember,” he says automatically when Namjoon asks.

You look at him searchingly, but his hazel eyes are dark and unreadable. Troubled.

“Okay,” you say simply, setting the cup to the side when he’s had his fill. “Try to get some rest.” You kiss the corner of his mouth, settling beside him as he lays his head on your arm. The boys grudgingly disperse after dropping their own kisses on your cheeks.

“Don’t even think about it,” you thumb his lower lip as he tries to apologize. Jimin kisses the pad of your finger and burrows into your warmth instead.

When his breathing evens out and the lines on his face smooth out, you know he’s somewhere better. His grasp gradually loosens, lulled by your gentle touch as you smooth over his curls rhythmically.

Once you’ve ensured Jimin is, in fact, resting peacefully, you adjust the pillows and draw away. You gingerly shake your arm, needles and pins stinging dully.

Taking a cursory glance around the room, you take count of your boys, only to realize there is one missing. “Where did he disappear to?” You murmur, frowning.

You turn when Seokjin, drifting off quickly, manages to reply groggily, “He said he wasn’t sleepy anymore. Try the gym.” He doesn’t sound too concerned over the departure of their maknae. It wouldn’t be the first time.

2:15 am :: i’m not a stranger / no, i am yours

Moonlight streaks through the glass plane, the ceiling a semi-circle arching over an impressive pool. The water ripples, the facility silent save for the occasional surface break for air. Footsteps muted, you pad your way to the corner of the tiles. He moves gracefully, the refraction of light scattering his image momentarily as he weaves through the lanes.

“Jungkook.”

Spoken softly, almost a whispered sigh when he comes up for a breath and yet he somehow manages to hear you. He always does—almost like he’s attuned to your very being. He finishes his final lap with a front stroke, giving himself a quick shake as he resurfaces.

He hauls himself up, droplets clinging to his golden skin, corded muscle bunching enticingly with every movement. Long, tousled dark locks plastered against his forehead, he sweeps them back with a hand. You reach out to trace a finger over that vein running down the length of his arm, touch light as he sucks in a breath in response. Goosebumps raise instantaneously and he shivers.

You wordlessly gesture for him to follow you. He takes your hand and trails after you, obediently taking a seat on one of the lounge chairs as you settle behind him. A stack of fluffy white hotel provided towels lie on the small patio table next to the two of you.

“Lean back.” Jungkook flinches at the feel of your warm breath tickling his ear, and you stifle your giggle at the way his body heats at the sound of your voice.

He closes his eyes as you begin massaging a towel through his damp tresses, squeezing the tips of his strands to wring them out effectively. The effect is soothing and the tension visibly seeps from him as you work in silence. When his hair is sufficiently dried, you toss the towel to the side in favour of a new one.

Then you touch his shoulder blades with the fabric. He stiffens instantly. “Kook.” A chastise and warning rolled into a gentle tone. He swallows hard.

“S’rry,” he mumbles, shifting as he forces himself to relax once more. It feels weird. The soft material invites minimal friction, though something about the action feels oddly erotic. His skin prickles, sensitivity spiking as you run the towel down the length of his spine.

“Stand up.”

He tenses, rising to his feet slowly. Then he turns.

His midnight black hair curls around his temples, dishevelled from your previous labour. The waistband of his swim shorts hug his hipbones, outlining the dips of his v-lines rather sharply. Hard muscles encased in bronzed skin, powerfully built, yet his narrow frame suggests a rather paradoxical fragility to him.

He’s breathtakingly gorgeous. The epitome of temptation. A purity you cannot help but long to ruin.

One step and you’re right in front of him, toes touching. A finger trailing down his chiselled jaw line, pressing against his pulse, fluttering rapidly beneath your touch. His skin is startling hot; burning, like he’s running a fever.

Jungkook exhales.

You are an addiction. But unlike a drug, it doesn’t leave him high and dry, not a temporary fix for a very permanent problem. There is no problem—you simply make his days better, brighter. His fame, his success—what is it all for, if he has no one to share it with? You aren’t his entire world. His resounding purpose in life. He doesn’t need you to be those things. Doesn’t need you to be his sun. Instead, you enrich his universe. Fill in the space between the stars in his galaxies. You bring totality. A completeness he’s never experienced before.

Amidst the happiness, there is also anger, frustration, sadness—you make him feel. Everything.

“What am I supposed to do … when you keep looking at me like that?” He whispers hoarsely. His eyes are half-lidded, dark. Desire swirls in those pools, twists the coil in his stomach until he’s wrought with an insatiable thirst.

He wants to be cherished. Each touch a token of your love, your affection. A promise to keep his heart safe. It’s only ever been yours to take, after all.

“Do you want me to stop?” You murmur, pausing as you linger at his collarbone. He shakes his head rapidly.

“Please,” he whispers, fingers flexing restlessly from where they rest at his sides.

“It drives me crazy. I always have this need to wreck you. That expression of yours … I want it. I want to devour you.” Jungkook trembles, arousal spiking in his blood. Cock noticeably straining against the polyester material of his trunks.

“If I took you against the wall? Fucked you so hard you couldn’t think anymore?” You croon, fingers skimming his chest as you circle him until you reach his back. “Couldn’t walk?”

“What—what if I want that?” His chest is already heaving, sweat trickling down his sternum.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me?” A kiss between his shoulders. Lips dragging down the curve of his spine.

He tastes like sweat, the cologne of chlorine sharp, yet his own unique scent stirs faintly beyond the layers of artificial flavouring.

It hurts, how effortlessly you stimulate him with your mere presence and a few lilting words.

When you tug his weeping erection free, he’s already delirious with lust, cock throbbing and flushed angrily.

“W-want it,” he babbles. “Wanna be f-fucked by you. P-please!” Rationally, he knows you can’t do that here, that you didn’t bring such conspicuous toys, but the ache is intense.

He gasps like he’s been torn apart by a gunshot when you take him into your mouth, doubling over as his hands automatically grip your hair. Any other day you would’ve punished him for his carelessness, but tonight it’s about him. This whole vacation is—it’s your turn to give them the world—or as much of your world as you can.

His precum is salty, the heavy weight of his dick on your tongue makes you dizzy, panties growing slick at the feel.

The marble digs into your knees, but the discomfort fades as you watch him lose himself to the pleasure.

His sensitivity is a curse, he thinks dimly. Makes it so easy for you to make him fall apart.

You tongue over the vein running through his engorged cock, thumbing his slit. Spit dribbles down your chin as you take him in deeper.

“___! Ah! Uh—ugh,” he sobs, hips thrusting erratically. There are tears streaming down his cheeks, head thrown back in bliss.

He’s drooling, breathing ragged as he mindlessly chases his pleasure, and you let him fuck your mouth until he’s keening. “I—I’m—ah!” Your nails rake his thighs as you release him.

His mind blanks, ears ringing with white noise as he tumbles over the edge.

He cums in ropes, staining his stomach and splattering the tips of his fringe.

“Made such a mess, baby,” you coo. He’s shaking, barely coherent as you swipe at his pecs for a taste. His eyes are glazed over, mind still numb as he croaks your name feebly. You stand, wiping your mouth hastily as he wobbles slightly before collapsing onto you. Catching him with clumsy hands, he practically melts into you, nuzzling your stomach.

Reaching for fresh towel, you clean him up slowly. Jungkook sighs softly, gripping your wrist loosely. “I love you.”

You kiss his forehead. “And I love you.”

You grab your toiletry bag as you help him up. You lead him to the showers, him stumbling after you with weak knees. Turning the knob and testing the temperature, you strip quickly before pushing Jungkook against the wall.

Jungkook gasps, tiles cold against his feverish skin and his back arches as you drizzle vanilla body wash over his chest, trickling down his stomach.

He’s chanting your name, the words prayers on his lips as you wash him, still so responsive though your touches are purely platonic.

“Noona,” he breathes. “Please.” He wants more. He’s craving you. It liquefies his insides, the yearning.

“Are you sure?” You rake his wet bangs back, water crashing down between you. “Yes,” he says as he kisses you hard.

The empty stalls echo his beautiful, broken moans when you bend him over and make him cum against the wall.

10:56 am :: ‘cause i don’t care when i’m with my baby, yeah / all the bad things disappear / and you’re making me feel like maybe i am somebody

“We slept in,” Seokjin complains loudly as he rolls off the bed, landing on the floor with a heavy thud. There’s a rather suspicious flick of hair that resembles a cowlick sticking from his head.

It’s a disaster; their clocks were all synched the night before for 9 am, but they’ve all opted to slam the snooze button, including you. The only other person awake is Hoseok, bright-eyed and fully dressed as he helps you rouse the other members.

“Coming,” you call, relief washing over you as you open the door to room service.

“Guys, breakfast!” You yell as you lay out the plates and cutlery. Chaos. That’s all you see.

Jimin and Taehyung are scrambling over each other for dibs on the bathroom. Jungkook’s hopping around, wrestles his socks on as he shoves on a pair of shorts. Namjoon’s sitting on a chair, flipping through a park guide, shirtless and bleary-eyed.

“Tae, go wake Yoongs, please,” you say distractedly as the waiter pulls out a bottle of banana milk. “Kook, drink.” You’re certain the cat-like composer remains buried somewhere beneath the sheets, Taehyung stumbling over with a toothbrush hanging askew from his mouth.

The maknae obediently starts gulping down his daily dose of liquid puberty alongside a piece of buttered toast, Jimin trotting over to spear a pancake and snag a bottle of water.

“How are you feeling, baby?” You ask as you slather on some peanut butter onto another piece, topped off with strawberry slices, and slide it onto a plate at the side for Taehyung.

“I’m good, noona.” Logically, his body should still be suffering from the lingering effects of jetlag and the events earlier, but he’s used to this kind of schedule – and he feels strangely refreshed in spite of it all.

“And you, Chims? Did you sleep well after last night?” You examine him as he drinks. Jimin nods, smile small but genuine. He looks relaxed, face and there is no tightness in the crinkle of his eyes. Satisfied, you turn to see Hoseok, who’s returned with your purse in hand.

You take it gratefully, pointing at the makeshift breakfast bar you’ve set up as you start throwing things into your bag. Sunscreen—“Taehyung, you have to rub it in harder”—water—“No Sprite, sorry Hobi. It’ll explode when we open it”—sunglasses—“Just keep them with me, Joon, you nearly lost them twice on the way here”—and wallet—“No, I have enough cash for food, stop handing me bills, Yoongi!”

“Alright, boys! Let’s go,” you clap your hands. A flurry of movement and body parts colliding, Namjoon yanking on a shirt, Jungkook flipping on his bag, Yoongi spraying mosquito repellant liberally like cologne, Hoseok patting lotion onto his neck calmly, Taehyung furiously scrubbing his face but somehow still managing to look like a badly painted ghost, Jimin fiddling with something in his hands, Seokjin adjusting the straw hat on his head, and you’re out.

2:00 pm :: please take me away from here / when i’m far too tired to fall asleep

“Noona,” he whispers. He slips something plastic and cool into your hand.

You inhale sharply. “Jimin.”

You’re in line for a coaster—a mild one, with no real drop, mostly for the creative effects and characterisation—and though the wait is shorter with your fast passes, there’s still significant time before you reach the front.

Glancing around, the boys are otherwise occupied. Hoseok is busy panicking and blowing into one of the barf bags you tucked into his bag after the plane as a gag gift, moaning as he begs Yoongi to ditch with him, to which the composer only shakes his head with an exasperated grin.

Jungkook’s taking some scenery shots for the upcoming GCF from the ledge of the sloped building the line is curved around. Namjoon’s scribbling in his pocket-sized notebook, likely lyrics if his head bopping and smile are any indications. Taehyung and Seokjin are fooling around, joking and laughing.

His neck flushes, but he meets your gaze evenly, amber irises blown out and wide. Imploring. He needs this. Needs you.

You run your thumb over the button, rolling the device in your palm contemplatively, eyes lidded.

And when he grips your arm, doubling over as he lets out an indiscernible gasp, lost in the music and wind, no one is wiser.

“Wanna take one home?” You say, kissing his jaw as he fixes his shorts. His blush is a vibrant scarlet as he nods into your neck.

You catch Namjoon’s knowing look when the two of you catch up outside the store. Smoothing over the glossy picture, you slide the photo into your purse with a finger to your lips.

3:40 pm :: you know i love you, did i tell you ever tell you? / you make it better like that

Your laughter fills the air, loud and unabashed as you smile up at him prettily.

He lowers the camera, chest tight.

He never thought he’d see the day, could never dare to dream of it. The nights spent trying to hold you together, your body warm and soft in his embrace, he forgets just how real this is.

“Joon! Tae, what is that? Oh, no—Yoongi, not you too …!”

“Thanks, hyung.” Hoseok turns to see Jungkook wiping his damp hands on his shirt as he makes his way to him from the restroom.

“No problem,” he answers tersely, returning the camera gingerly.

The dancer runs a hand through his hair, and counts his lucky stars.

6:32 pm :: it’s alright, now count 1,2,3 and forget / erase all the sad memories / hold each other’s hands and smile

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

He exhales slowly. It doesn’t surprise him anymore, the way the mere sound of your soft voice somehow manages to ease the ache.

“Fine,” he croaks. He tries to shift, and winces immediately at the way the pain resonates sharply in his knee.

“Liar,” you murmur, taking a seat at the edge of the couch. Exasperation and a touch of fondness seep into your tone at the way he attempts to mask his groan of pain with a vague cough. Pushing off his cap, you weave your fingers through his dark-coloured locks. He nuzzles into your calming touch, sighing in relief.

“Okay, my body feels like lead,” he admits. “But I can’t give up now. I think I’m going to start working out to increase my endurance too. Fake Love is really taking its toll.”

“What are you thinking? Treadmill?” You muse absently. Jimin gives you a small smile. “Something like that.”

It quiets for a moment. And then – “I don’t want to be like this anymore,” he whispers suddenly. A lone tear tracks its way down his cheeks, and he reaches up to swipe it away, embarrassed. You catch his hand, kissing his palm. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” he rasps. His eyes are puffing up, cheeks reddening and you know he’s desperately fighting the urge to cry.

His left leg is alleviated, ice pack adjusted firmly on his kneecap, pain medication subduing the rolling waves of discomfort.

“You’re so strong. It’s okay, baby. It’ll be okay. You can do this,” you breathe. Leaning in, you press your forehead against his. “Let go. Please. It’s just me.” His lips tremble and he bites it hard.

And then he’s shaking silently, shoulders quivering, and when your arms come around him, Jimin grips you tightly. Careful not to jostle his body too much, you cradle him close, thumbing the wet trails tenderly.

“Jimin. Jimin. Jiminie.” He blinks, eyes refocusing on your worried expression, realizing you’re waving a hand in his face.

He registers the dull ache in his arms, and looks down to see dumbbells dangling from his hands. “Oh,” he says weakly, setting them down.

“What’s going on?” He can feel your concern boring holes into his head. He just shrugs uncomfortably. “I … don’t really want to think about it right now.”

A low grunt attracts his attention as he peeks up. To witness their dark-haired producer shaking underneath you, arms wound tightly around you as he pants into the crook of your neck. You’re straddling him where he’s seated on the seated press machine, hips stuttering as Yoongi moans brokenly.

“Are you—is his—?” Jimin splutters, shock and arousal flitting through him as he stares. Yoongi looks positively wrecked, veins standing out harshly as he strains to keep himself in check.

You miss dinner when you finally leave the gym.

11:59 am :: it’s everything you wanted / it’s everything you don’t / it’s one door swinging open / and one door swinging closed

“Do you ever regret this?” Your voice a whisper, fingers tracing the slope of his nose, the pillows of his lips. The darkness engulfs you, but the curtain pulled over your heads remains a haven for the weary.

He nips at your touch playfully, eyes a gentle, smoldering obsidian. “Knowing you has changed everything for us. Made us remember we’re more than just idols, we’re people. We hurt, we desire, we love. We have hopes, dreams beyond just our professions. What we want in life, the person we choose to be.”

“I’ve lived this moment on stage a thousand times,” Seokjin murmurs against your lips as he bridges the gap to pull you close, exhales his confession like a secret, “And I would gladly give it all up for just another moment with you.” A piece of an untold truth, he carefully carves his heart out and offers it to you on a golden platter.

You fold his soul into a crane and tuck it inside your own.

December 31

1:50 am :: i am not ashamed anymore / i want something so impure

“T-that’s disgusting.” Even as he says it, however, his cock twitches, knuckles whitening from where they clutch the counter edge.

“A-ah!” He shudders, abdomen clenching sporadically as the chill trails down his stomach. “I-it’s c-cold.”

“Says the one whose mouth was wide open for Tannie,” you murmur, hands running down his front slowly. He flushes darkly. “T-that’s different.”

Ice cream drips from his honeyed skin, muscles rippling as he flexes. Your tongue follows the melting path, and he tosses his head back, agony ripping through him as he desperately searches for friction.

“Tell me, Hoseok,” you purr, biting the shell of his ear softly, “What is it you want?”

“You,” he pants, dark eyes blazing with something gold. “I want you to own me, to fuck me like you never want to let go. I want you to love me.”

“I’ve always loved you,” you say quietly, thumbing his cheekbones. Tears stream down his face when you sink down on him, marking his flesh until your galaxy is seared on his skin. He’s remade with every roll of your hips, seduced by your sweet touches.

2:30 am :: you better impress now, watching my dress now fall to the floor / crawling underneath my skin, sweet talk with a hint of sin

Namjoon blinks once. Then he raises his hands to rub his eyes furiously. And blinks rapidly. Nope, he’s not dreaming. That really is Hoseok’s face buried in your cunt.

“Huh,” he says mildly.

5:20 pm :: i’ll seek you out / flay you alive

“You like it, don’t you? The idea that anyone can see you with your dick hanging out for the world to see like a common whore?”

Taehyung’s cheek is pressed against the tinted windows, sunset skies weaving faded melodies over his nudity. A painter’s exhibit come alive.

“Don’t you?” You snarl, yanking at his tresses. Taehyung jerks back, length weeping as his precum smears the glass.

“Y-yes,” he gasps, eyes rolling back as you scissor him, adding another finger.

“Beautiful,” you press the words into the dip of his spine. His cock is easily the longest out of them all, throbbing painfully. He trembles, struggling to stay upright. The ache is delicious.

You spread his legs almost obscenely as you fuck him, lube dribbling down his inner thighs and staining the wood flooring.

“Come for me, baby.” You bite his clavicle as he sobs, spilling over himself and coating the window pane white.

January 1

12:00 :: cheer up and dry your damp eyes and tell me when it rains / and i’ll blend up that rainbow above you and shoot it through your veins

“Happy New Year, baby.”

His lips taste like champagne; his tastes like wine. His smile is gummy; his is a beam. His touch is delicate; his is languid. His kiss is slow, savouring; his is sweet, cherishing. His body is hard, solid, muscles sinewy and refined; his is softer, leaner.

He smells like rain, the earth, parchment; he smells like peaches, lavender, pumpkin spice.

They smell like the promise of forever.

10:12 pm :: think about what you believe in now / am i someone you cannot live without?

“That night,” he takes a breath. “The nightmare—it was about you. And—and me. It’s hard to explain, hard to describe. It’s like losing everything we shared, how much you’ve made, shaped and changed me, everything I learned since meeting you.”

“You wouldn’t have liked the old me. I got mad easily, cried a lot and tried too hard to be something I wasn’t.”

“Jimin—”

“Wait, please,” he begs, kissing your knuckle. “I need to say this. All this time, I struggled to place what this is. What this feeling is.”

“The world is so beautiful with you in it,” he whispers. “Everything is brighter, more vivid. The stars, the skies, every touch, every taste. Sometimes I feel like being on stage pales so much in compared to this. You, being here.” He unfurls your hand, presses his palm against yours. Warmth bleeds through every brush of skin.

“But you also enhance each experience. Because I know, at the end of the day, you’re watching me—and that I’ll be coming home to you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. More than the dancing, the singing, my career—a home. You gave it to all of us. And I hope,” he exhales, smile shy as he steps forward to drape his scarf over your neck, “That you will let us do the same. To be your refuge. For as long as you’ll have us.”

“And if I say forever?” You murmur. Hardly daring to be serious, but only timid honesty rings through.

“Then marry me. Marry us.” His eyes are bright, determined. Doesn’t falter even as you suck in a breath, heartbeat fluttering erratically.

“We know we asked you to wait, but we can’t anymore.” It’s Hoseok’s voice. You flinch in surprise, hand automatically starting to pull away from Jimin’s, but his grip tightens.

“I’ve never wanted more, before. But I do with you. I want everything with you,” he goes on earnestly.

They step out from the shadows one at a time, likely having been waiting in the wings since you’d arrived.

“I don’t another day to pass where I’m waking up without you next to me,” Jungkook whispers. Doe eyes shining in the dark. “I want to share my life with you. The good, the bad, everything in between. The laughter, the tears, the heartbreak. All of it. Whatever’s left, I want to have experienced it knowing you’re right there with me.”

“You make me question everything,” Namjoon exhales. “Make me a better person, make me want to be better. Not just for you, but for me. I started to learn what it really meant to love myself.”

“Your compassion is a gift,” Seokjin murmurs. “So much about you is. I lose all my senses around you, an intoxication I can’t shake off.”

“Made me realize that learning to rely on someone else isn’t a bad thing. That sharing isn’t redirecting burden,” Taehyung says shyly. “To conquer your adversities together, because you can’t do everything alone.”

“It is all yours to take … if you would have us,” Yoongi says, smile quietly hopeful as he flips open a velvet box. “To have and to hold, until death do us part.”

“Walk this life with me. With us,” he pleads softly. So softly it breaks you.

You kiss him. All of them, first hard and desperate, and then gently and lovingly. Yoongi slides the ring on, the band a welcomed weight onto your finger as Namjoon nips your lower lip teasingly.

“And maybe … just maybe, a little longer than eternity,” Taehyung’s smile is secretive when you reach him, a curious mysterious edge to that boxy grin of his, but the half-formed question barely materializes, brushed away like wind when he kisses you.

Your hand slides over his chest, and his own rises to cover yours, holding you fast to the steady pulse of his life.

11:11 pm :: when violet eyes get brighter / and heavy wings grow lighter / i’ll taste the sky and feel alive again / and i’ll forget the world that i knew / but i swear i won't forget you / oh if my voice could reach back through the past / i’d whisper in your ear / “oh darling i wish you were here”

You’ll never have to walk alone again.

2K notes · View notes

tribeworldarchive · 3 years

Photo

WORLD VIEW ON PREGNANCY - Part three. This week we take a look at different pregnancy and childbirth traditions around the world.

CHINA

Chinese women are supposed to guard their thoughts when they are pregnant. Their unborn child is said to be influenced by anything seen, heard or thought by the pregnant woman. This means that the woman is not supposed to gossip, laugh too loudly, look at bright colours, have sex or get angry! These women are encouraged to listen to beautiful music, talk about nice things, read interesting books and gaze at gorgeous pictures. Food plays a big part in the pregnancy of a Chinese woman. It is said that a woman can influence the colour of her baby's skin by the type of food she eats…if she eats light coloured food, the baby will be born with a light complexion. The woman has to be sure that her food is mashed or cut up properly otherwise her unborn child may become careless.

Pregnant women are supposed to stay away from funerals and construction work so that the baby does not suffer from a deformity. Some Chinese women sleep with a knife under their bed to scare away evil spirits.

There are no presents given before the baby is born, as this is believed to be unlucky. The pregnant woman's mother is the one who is in charge of getting the baby's clothes together and delivers them in a visit to her new grandchild 3 days after the birth. She would have already sent a smaller package of clothing a month before the baby is due. This package is meant to speed up the delivery of the baby and is called tsue shen.

The parents to be do not choose a name before the baby arrives as this is considered to be extremely unlucky. Unborn babies are often given false names in an attempt to confuse and ward off the evil spirits.

The actual childbirth process is considered to be a time that the woman should not fear and she will often drink a strong drink made from herbs to help with the pain. When the baby is born the woman will pray and give thanks to the goddess who helped them through the process of conceiving and delivering a healthy child.

Objects are placed in the cot of a newborn and the one that is reached for first by the tiny fist is said to determine the future of the child. It could be a pen or a toy. It could even be a piece of silver.

THE ORKNEY ISLANDS (OFF THE COAST OF SCOTLAND)

Many traditions surround the birth of a baby in these islands and a lot of them stem from fear of the supernatural. It is said that a baby boy will soon be born if there is a rainbow in the sky and locals shout "There's abrig fur a beuy barin!" This basically means ' there's a bridge for a boy to be born'. The Islanders say that the rainbow is the bridge leading to the home where a new boy will be born.

Pregnant women sometimes sleep with a knife and a Bible under their beds to protect their unborn child from supernatural forces and evil spirits.

Old wise women were midwives in days gone by and were revered for their magical powers of protection.

When the baby is born the father of the child will share a bottle of whisky with his male friends to bring good luck to the baby. This is called the "weetin' the heid of the bairn" or the 'wetting of the head'.

There are many feasts held to celebrate the birth of a baby and the neighbours come to visit and pay their respects to this new life.

JAPAN

Japanese women are encouraged not to put on too much weight during their pregnancy and to avoid eating spicy or salty foods or raw fish (sashimi).

They should not look at fire when pregnant or the baby will be born with a birthmark. Japanese women should not reach up or down to hang laundry or take it out of the washing machine in case the umbilical cord wraps itself around the baby's neck.

The women are taught to be silent throughout the labour and birth of their baby to avoid embarrassment. They should also look upon childbirth as a natural process and should not take any pain relief.

PORTUGAL

Portuguese women are advised not to wear necklaces, reach up for objects or to jump because of the belief that this can cause the umbilical cord to tighten around the neck of the unborn child and could cause strangulation.

Furry animals should not be carried because the child could become hairy! When planning to become pregnant, Portuguese women are encouraged to eat certain types of food to determine the sex of the child. It is said that round fruits and vegetables (such as apples and grapes) produce girls whilst long vegetables (such as carrots and cucumbers) produce boys.

If a baby cries or fusses a lot it is believed that it has a 'displaced stomach' or "bucho verado". The baby is taken to a natural healer who would treat the baby with oil and say some prayers to stop the supposed pain in the tummy.

SPAIN

A Spanish mother is told to get plenty of rest because this will make for a calm baby.

Pregnant women often wear something metal attached to their clothes over their bellies to protect the unborn child.

Cucumbers or spicy food should be avoided in case they give the growing baby a gassy tummy.

Husbands or boyfriends are not allowed in the delivery room when a woman is giving birth. The doctor wants the woman to concentrate totally on the birth.

Mothers are told to stay in the house for forty days after the birth of the child and are not allowed to have a bath or to wash their hair.

It is said that loud noises can cause the soft spot on the baby's head to collapse. A piece of wet paper stuck to the baby's forehead is said to cure the hiccups.

PACIFIC ISLANDS

It is not just the woman who gets cravings in this culture. If another family member has sudden cravings this is a sign that a woman in the family is 'with child'. All the women in the family go to get a pregnancy test done because one of them must be pregnant!

Food plays an important part in the pregnancies of this culture too. It is said that white fish can cause difficulties in the pregnancy. Some Pacific islanders believe that sour or bitter foods can cause miscarriages and that spicy foods can give the baby a gassy tummy.

Pacific Island women are taught to remain positive during pregnancy, as this will help the baby to grow and develop properly.

They are told not to bear a grudge against anyone during pregnancy or the child could be born looking like the person the woman has been angry with. Any jealousy felt by the mother could cause the child to be born crippled.

Necklaces or floral leis should not be worn for fear of the umbilical cord wrapping itself around the neck of the unborn child.

Ancient legend states that if the woman is unattractive during pregnancy, a girl will be born because all the beauty would have been passed to the baby. However if the woman is attractive during her pregnancy, a boy will be born.

Another legend states that if the pregnant woman walks with her left foot first she will give birth to a girl. Right foot first gives the mother a boy.

The husband or boyfriend and the mother of the pregnant woman are allowed in to the delivery room whilst the woman is giving birth. Family members join together to support the woman throughout the pregnancy and birth of the child.

TRIBAL WORLD

The girls who become pregnant in the world of the Tribe do not have access to health care and will have to rely heavily on their instincts to get them through pregnancy and childbirth.

They might take more notice of the world around them and of natures way of doing things. They will probably develop their own traditions and beliefs as time goes on. They will slowly forget their own mothers, aunts or sisters pregnancies and the way they had been looked after in a highly medical world.

They might discover by accident that certain foods help their pregnancies or that different things should be avoided to maintain a normal delivery and a healthy baby.

Different traditions will develop and stories passed down from one new mother to the next will help these girls get on in their pregnancies.

Those who have had experience giving birth will become the new 'wise women'. Wise women who, like in the days of old, were called on as midwives.

Immunisations will not be available for the babies born in this New World and certain diseases might start to show up again. Premature labour, difficult births or miscarriages could become a real problem as there are no doctors and there is no medicine to help.

Pregnancy and childbirth will prove to be a real danger to many of these Tribal girls and there are a lot of new lessons to be learnt along the way.

NEXT WEEK WE TAKE A LOOK AT HEALTH AND MEDICINE

#The Tribe #Worldview #Pregnancy

2 notes · View notes

theislehoney · 4 years

Text

roots (wwx/lwj, modern au)

[follows directly after purple nights]

They end up in a ramen bar, of course, and not Lan Zhan’s bed.

He cannot bring himself to be surprised; loving Wei Ying has never been anything like expectation. Wei Ying had once persuaded him to climb the bell tower together after midnight, and they had settled beneath the carillon and watched the moon set over the golf course; he had taken Lan Zhan to the canal that runs along the edge of town, renting a canoe and rowing so far north that it had taken them hours to get back; he had helped Wei Ying sample every flavor of ice cream from every ice cream shop in town, including the fro-yo shops, an endeavor that had left him giddy and half-drunk on sugar; and he has spent many a day following Wei Ying around the local record store and pulling him up from under the tables where they keep the cheapest records in boxes, dust in his hair and eyes wild with excitement.

So tonight Lan Zhan does not, in fact, take Wei Ying back to his place and fuck him.

He intends to, but Wei Ying is exhausted. The shine of it is in his eyes, and the trail of conversation veers wildly from one topic to the next. By the time he clutches at Lan Zhan’s arm and drags him down into a restaurant for an evening snack (just a little snack, you have no idea how hungry I am, Lan Zhan I could eat a horse I could eat you), Lan Zhan is wearily unsurprised.

He is hungry as well, but for other things.

The restaurant is just below street level, located in the basement beneath a beauty salon, at the bottom of a short set of stone steps. Inside, the mood is warm, wood along all the walls and the ceiling, with a slate floor and the saffron filaments of incandescent bulbs burning over the long bar that lines the wall. Slim windows run along the top of the wall, allowing an unparalleled view of the shoes of those walking by. The sidewalk is splashed with light. The ramen bar is a knot in time, tied off in a pattern that does not match the world around them. Standing in this place, Lan Zhan feels like he has stepped through a copper mirror, into the fading world of the past.

They sit at the bar, Lan Zhan’s coat stripped off and hanging over the back of the chair. Wei Ying slurps his noodles when they come, his hair curling slightly over his cheekbones in the steam that rises from the ramen. His lips are bright with spice. He is an unglamourous eater, and a strange sight at this noodle bar, with stars shining beneath his eyes and charms clinking against the edge of the hand-spun bowl. In the open kitchen, the chefs speak in rapid Japanese, in which Lan Zhan is rusty enough that he only just catches the gist of what they are saying—something about their daughters’ schoolwork and the weather—as the conversation ebbs and flows around them. Lan Zhan sips his broth with deliberation. It is late enough that the room is half empty, and the sounds of chatter from the other diners are just meaningless murmurs.

“How are you, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks, when half the bowl is gone. Lan Zhan glances at him in surprise; the silence has become a physical thing around them that held his tongue in place, and Wei Ying shatters it so easily. “You look tired.”

“Mn.”

Wei Ying sets down his chopsticks. He turns toward Lan Zhan, leaning his chin on his hand. “Are you taking care of yourself?” His eyes alight with curiosity.

Lan Zhan deigns to answer only with a raised brow.

Wei Ying’s lips quirk and he laughs to himself. “You’re right, I need to do the same. But Lan Zhan, I worry about you. I have a ton of people to watch out for me every day. Too many, most days. I drive them crazy. But you don’t have anyone. I worry.”

His tone is soft, softer than Lan Zhan recalls, the accents of eastern China clinging to his words. Lan Zhan spends time with plenty of ex-pats here at the university, but somehow the sound of Wei Ying’s voice—so familiar, and so new—sends a thrill through him.

“I have you,” he says. He lays his hand in the space between them.

Wei Ying’s answering smile is half a flinch. His eyes skitter away and across the bartop. He reaches for his chopsticks and then lays his hand down flat, pressed against the whiskey-colored wood just an inch or so from Lan Zhan. The wood has been polished to a shine, and there are marks from the bowls that have rested there before.

“What is wrong?” he asks Wei Ying.

“Nothing!” Wei Ying grimaces. “Nothing, really. It’s just.. It’s been a while, right, Lan Zhan?”

It has been almost four months since he has seen Wei Ying. And before that, nearly six months. Five years since they have been together in truth, since grad school ended and Wei Ying went off to his illustrious career and Lan Zhan chose differently.

“Mn.”

Wei Ying can count the time as well as he. He breathes into the silence.

“I’m glad we are together now,” Wei Ying says. He slides his hand across the gap between them and twines their fingers together, sending a visceral thrill through Lan Zhan.

For so long, they have been confined to distance. They spent endless hours together in grad school (fools, they: who should have counted), curled in one corner or another, but as the years grew longer and the splendorous rigor of endless academia eased into exhaustion, they had drifted apart. Wei Ying had begun reaching out to agencies in China and auditioning to be an idol, spending his spare time recording tapes to send to agents; Lan Zhan had retreated into the library stacks and his dissertations. The nights apart became more common than the nights spent together.

And yet.

They did not fall out of love. Their lives shifted and changed, and Lan Zhan’s love for Wei Ying only deepened. Some nights, when he could not sleep, when he spent the long hours at the window and watched the moon dangle above the tiled roofs of the university, he thought that his love for Wei Ying was like a bottles of wine—it could live in the dark for years and grow only richer, the taste deepening toward the sublime, the fruit of the earth transmuted to something priceless. No matter how far apart they drifted, Lan Zhan knew he would never stop loving Wei Ying. His love was an essential part of him.

It has never lessened.

But that does not mean that he is content. He misses Wei Ying, with a fervor that borders on the obscene. Most days he buries himself in texts at the library, spending long hours in the research department unspeaking, before heading to his second job at the bookstore and collapsing into bed. He works himself to forgetting, because drink has never been his vice, and only when he is tired enough to see stars does the sound of Wei Ying’s voice, the echo of his touch, ease from Lan Zhan and let him sleep.

When they leave the restaurant near closing, the streets are quiet. The rain has eased away and left the sky a featureless black, stars and moon hidden by the clouds. The crowds have retreated to their bedrooms and dining rooms, and the windows of the town gleam with warmth. Lan Zhan stands beneath the edge of the building as Wei Ying pulls out his umbrella and considers it.

He has been very quiet tonight. Lan Zhan is beginning to suspect that it is something more than exhaustion.

He cannot stop thinking about the distance between them.

“Wei Ying,” he says, and the object of his attention turns.

Lan Zhan crowds him back against the wall, pressing him into the stone. It is cold and damp. Wei Ying is all muscle beneath him. Lan Zhan slips a hand beneath the edges of his jacket and touches him through the soft material of his shirt.

Wei Ying sighs and Lan Zhan kisses him. His lips are sharp with spice, burning hot and Lan Zhan bites him in punishment. Wei Ying twists into him, clawing beneath Lan Zhan’s coat and jacket and tugging at his shirt, slipping his fingers between one button and the next and pressing his hot fingers against Lan Zhan’s skin.

Lan Zhan breathes into Wei Ying and holds him up. He threads his fingers through Wei Ying’s hair and tugs hard enough to make him gasp.

“Too long,” he whispers into Wei Ying’s skin, answering the unasked question. “Need you.”

Wei Ying looks up, and the lights of the evening shine in his eyes.

“You have me.”

Lan Zhan gathers himself, folding inward all the sharp edges of his desire, and steps back.

He will take Wei Ying home. Small as it is, Wei Ying will fill it with his very presence. He will touch him, slip his fingers beneath the edge of his jacket and tug at the buttons of his shirt. Wei Ying will reach up, and the charms hanging from his nails will tickle as they slide across his skin. His lips will be slick with gloss, and he will taste like salt and peppers; his skin will be hot, even on a cold evening like tonight and with his clothes slick with rainwater; he will be everything that Lan Zhan has longed for, everything he craves.

Lan Zhan will peel back his clothes and leave him bare, slim and pale on Lan Zhan’s white sheets. He will gasp as Lan Zhan kisses him, not on the mouth but working his way down his body, kisses on the neck and the bones of his shoulders, on the curves of his chest and the edges of his ribs, on his nipples and the soft skin at the bend of his elbows. Lan Zhan will kiss every part of him, lick the sweat from his skin and work his fingers into Wei Ying’s muscles, gripping hard enough that he will leave bruises that will last for a week, the remnants of Lan Zhan dug into Wei Ying long after he has left and boarded his plane back to China.

But not yet. For now, they stand on a rain-slick sidewalk and watch each other, the silence between them a vast distance that Lan Zhan does not know how to cross.

He will. He has three days with Wei Ying, and his heart sings as he thinks of it. It is enough time. He will make it enough.

He will write himself into the shape of Wei Ying, and for all the long months that they are apart, he knows that he will turn outward, reaching, grown into the echo of Wei Ying.

—

[song inspo: 뿌리 (Roots)]

22 notes · View notes

nomattertheoceans · 4 years

Text

If you hold me close - chapter 12

Writing masterlist | On mobile

Chapter 11 | Chapter 13

Chapter 12 - Wine

As she started kissing him again, Feyre felt Rhysand's hands move against her, and then they were caressing her cheeks, her neck, traveling up and plunging into her hair. She let out a small moan when he started massaging her scalp, and she felt a smile grow on his lips. She didn't resist her instincts anymore, and she passed her tongue on his lips, a silent demand to deepen the kiss that was immediately answered. She moved to straddle him and her hands flattened on his chest, but the shift didn't disturb him from kissing her.

They broke apart after a moment, and Feyre felt his heart pounding beneath her palms, but she didn't open her eyes, and she didn't move away. Instead, she very slowly moved her hips to grind against him, and he groaned, his hands moving away from her hair only to slide down her back. She moved just slightly, and as she opened her eyes, found herself looking into his deep blue eyes. She didn’t look away as her hands started unbuttoning his shirt, brushing against his tattoos as she got lower and lower, until his shirt was completely open, and his hands left her back to get rid of the shirt completely. She couldn’t help her smile, and she captured his lips again, her hands roaming free over his muscles. She felt his fingers trail a path down her back, over her hips and on the outside of her thighs, until they reached the edge of her dress. She sighed against him, wanting to feel his hands on her skin. Rhys suddenly stopped kissing her, and took one hand to her back to steady her on his lap as he sat up on the bed, leaving her to drink in the sight of his body at will as he lifted her dress over her arms and head.

When she saw his eyes drift down and take her in with a small smile, she had a second of self-awareness during which she was glad to have chosen a black lace bra to wear, and she chuckled. He looked back up with a frown and she whispered “nothing” before kissing him again. She felt his hands struggle with the clasp of her bra, and then it was gone, joining her dress on the ground, and then his fingers where tracing soft lines under her breasts, and their tongue were interlaced in a heated kiss, their hips slowly rocking together as she lowered her hands to grab his belt and -

A knock on the door. They both went still in unison, waited for a few seconds without moving, and Feyre resumed kissing him. Another knock interrupted them, and he groaned.

“Whoever they are, they’ll go away,” she whispered against his lips, and she felt him smile.

But then, she heard a voice she couldn’t say ‘no’ to, not tonight.

“Feyre, are you awake?” Elain asked from the corridor. Feyre moved away from Rhys’ lap with an unrestrained sigh, and he laughed, collapsing on the bed behind her. She remained seated, catching her breath for a while, enjoying the light brush of Rhysand’s knuckles on the bare skin of her back. Then she got up, grabbed her dress from the floor to cover herself up and walked to the door.

Except she hadn’t grabbed the dress, she had Rhys’ shirt in her hand and she was in front of the door. So she slipped the shirt on, buttoned it quickly and opened the door to find Elain on the other side.

“What’s up?”

“I’m sorry, Feyre, am I waking you up?” Elain said, taking in her bare legs and disheveled hair. Feyre should have lied, but she could still feel the ghost of Rhysand’s lips against hers, and out of resentment for having been interrupted, she said:

“Not exactly, no.”

Elain’s eyes opened wide and she blushed. “Oh no, I’m so sorry.”

Feyre instantly felt bad for making her uncomfortable, and opened the door wider. “It’s fine. What is it? Are you feeling alright?”

“Not really, no… I’m kind of… freaking out.”

“About tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

Feyre checked behind her and found Rhysand sitting on the bed, smiling at her, still shirtless - she was to blame for that - but otherwise presentable, so she waved Elain in. They all stood there for a minute, Elain twisting her fingers and watching the ground, while they both exchanged a look.

“I’m gonna leave you two alone for a while,” Rhys said as he got up, came by to give her a very chaste peck on the lips that still made her want to get him on the bed again, and went to the balcony. She didn’t realize she’d been staring at his muscled back until he sat down and she couldn’t see him anymore. She coughed slightly and turned back to Elain, who looked mortified.

“I’m so sorry, Feyre, I didn’t mean to bother you…”

“It’s fine. You’re more important tonight.” She led her to the bed and they sat down beside each other. “What’s going on? Why are you freaking out?”

“Well, it’s just…. there is so much pressure on me and I don’t know what to do.”

“Are you having doubts?”

“A little bit, maybe.”

Feyre looked at her sister, with her tensed shoulders and clenched jaw. “Elain, I’m sure it’s just you getting anxious, but if you really feel like you’re making a mistake, you can always postpone the wedding or …”

“What?” Elain interrupted, “oh no Feyre, I don’t have doubts about marrying Lucien!”

“Oh. Okay, good. Then… what is it?”

Her sister’s eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled. “Well, what if we made the wrong choice about our photographer?”

“... What?”

“What if the photos are awful and we never have good quality pictures to remember the wedding?”

“Oh…”

“And we chose a band for the dinner, but what if it would have been better with a DJ? I mean, bands need to take breaks, and what if one of them is hurt and can’t play, you know like in that movie where the guy is hurt and can’t play?”

“Elain…”

“And what if the flowers get delivered to the billing address back home and not here tomorrow? We can’t get married without flowers! Can you imagine how ugly the photos would be without the flowers? Oh and with the photographer being bad, it’s just going to be so wrong, and what if…”

Feyre grabbed her sister by the shoulders. “Elain. You’re spiralling. Try to calm down, breathe.”

“I can’t calm down! This is my wedding, Fey! I won’t have a second one, and it needs to be perfect and I just…. I need to see Lucien.”

“Elain, what you need is some fresh air, okay?” She said as she guided her sister up and to the balcony. She made her sit down on the chair she’d been occupying the night before and crouched down beside her. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Rhys straighten up as they came out, and look at her sister with a frown of concern. He started to get up and Feyre turned to her sister. “Elain, can you stay alone for just a moment?”

Her sister nodded and Feyre followed Rhys inside. He sat on the bed and Feyre immediately wanted to kiss him again, so she stayed close to the balcony door as a self-restraining security.

“It’s okay, you can stay with her, I just wanted to give you guys space. What’s happening? Does she want to cancel?” Rhys asked.

Feyre couldn’t restrain a chuckle. “No, I thought so but… I think she’s just been under a lot of pressure organizing all this and she’s just letting it out now.”

“Oh, alright. My cousin had kind of the same thing when she got married. What you need right now,” he said as he got up and walked to the mini-bar, “is booze. A lot of it.”

She took the bottle of white wine he was handing her, but still shook her head. “I can’t get my sister drunk the night before her wedding! She needs to be fresh and rested in the morning.”

“Trust me, Feyre, you’d rather have her drinking a bit and being asleep in an hour or two, rather than sober and getting twenty minutes of rest before the ceremony.”

She considered for a moment before grabbing the corkscrew and taking his other hand in hers. “Alright, but you’re coming with me.”

***

“ - and then, just when we thought it was over, we realized our mother was standing behind us!”

Feyre and Elain both started laughing at the end of the story about how Cassian had broken all of their parents’ wedding china when they were eleven, and Rhysand grabbed the bottle from Feyre’s hand to gulp down some wine. The three of them were still on their balcony, except that Feyre had given him his shirt back and was now wearing a flowery summer dress. She was sitting on his lap, an arm draped behind his head, and God, was she gorgeous.

But it was more than that.

She was a star. She illuminated everything around her, glowing unknowingly with her smile and her laughter and the way she spoke to people. He had seen her do it during the evening, and now she was doing it again, with her sister. Elain had arrived a half-hour earlier, stressed out and on edge. Now she was laughing and relaxed, having forgotten whatever it was that had her anxious. And it wasn’t his stupid stories, or the wine. It was Feyre.

Seeing her snuggled against him so naturally had him once again wonder how it was possible that they’d only met a week before. Because it wasn’t just physical attraction - although, he couldn’t deny how much he wanted to get her back in bed. They connected on every level, and he felt the need to tell her everything about him, and to know all there was to know about her. He wanted to learn how she took her coffee in the morning, and he wanted to watch her when she was tired after a long day or happy about silly little things.

“So,” Elain suddenly said, interrupting his thoughts, “are we going to get out of here or what?”

“What do you mean?” Feyre asked.

“I want to go swimming!”

“We’re not going down to the beach at this hour, El.”

Her sister looked at her with a mischievous smile. “We have a pool.” And without waiting for an answer, she got up, grabbed the bottle of wine from his hands and went towards the door. Feyre looked down at him in desperation, but he only said:

“I guess we’re going swimming, Darling.”

Current tag list (send me an ask if you want to be tagged):

@summernightskyy @illyrian-bookworm @amren-courtofdreams @vanilla28 @philosophorumaurum02 @illyrianbeauty @kybaeza @sincerely-unidentified @highladyofthesith @the-regal-warrior @inrealliampain @kiss-my-maas @highlady-of-dusk @amusedowl @highladyofelfhame @fucking-winchester-trash @sleeping-and-books @l0sts0uls1128 @secret-lil-rendez-vous @everything-that-i-love @kingdomofbrokenhearts @fourshizzle149 @musicmaam @voiceoftheroses @avenrebekah @queenofdorkville @outofstyles13 @bow-dawn @iliveforfandoms226 @city-of-fae @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @notyourclassicshadowhunter @ellenoftroy @tonystarksbish @propagandaprincess @thelaughingzeebra @ame233 @hopelesslyinlovewithbooks @shadowstar2313 @eve-of-the-night-court @quakeriders @fireheart-of-your-dreams @feeoly @yikesitsmaddie @alifletcher2012 @faefromthenorth @emmejo26 @lowhangingtreebranches @mynewdreamwasyou @goldfishh20 @feyrearcherons @ttakeitbacknoww @rtheinkqueen @thereaderandfangirl @the-last-apprentice @whilma-warfstache @julemmaes @meltalgel-ig @wifeofchrishemsworth @worldoffae @thesurielships @chemicha @kindofawalkingpoem @rowaelinforeverworld @booksstorm @empress-ofbloodshed @awkward-avocado-s @thesirenwashere @tswaney17 @belamoonbeam @faequeenaelin @hedwig1751 @booksatteatime @over300books @keshavomit @redqueen-marecal-lover @musicalfae @girl-who-reads-the-books @thehuntersmoon-haven @joyceortiz13 @rainy-bookish-days @tonvstarktrash @thestarwhowishes @booksnmore @kindofawalkingpoem @nitrot150 @randomtogacotar22 @greatwombatblaze @heroesofterrasen @worldoffae @lovemollywho @waves-and-dust-in-the-wind @blackjacks-donuts @faellyrian-warriors

#feysand fanfic #feysand #feysand fic #fake dating au #if you hold me close

151 notes · View notes

nev3rfound · 5 years

Text

detachment : b.b

brief summary: a few bottles of wine cause you to admit truths you kept buried. the fact you regret making bucky leave

word count: 1.2k requested: nope, this is actually a bit of a recycled story from an old blog of mine. I loved the angst of it and changed it up to be about bucky instead of someone I used to know. warnings: some angst, alcohol abuse

* masterlistin’

* commissions

“Why’d you let him go?” Her words echo as you stare blankly at the two empty glasses. You remain quiet, reflecting on how full of life they were and the laughter consumed less than 45 minutes ago. Now as your eyes focus on them, all you can think of despair.

Lifting your head slowly your vision blurs as it catches up with your swift movements. A numb smile forms on your face as you cast your mind back. “He was strange, Nat. But, but wonderful.” You remember the nights of sitting on the roof in the compound, the blanket he’d insist for you to ensure you didn’t feel the cold. He never wanted you to feel the cold like he did. “Sometimes when you love someone that much it’s best to let them go.”

You didn’t need to look to see her roll her eyes as a heavy sigh follows suit. “You know, you didn’t have to let him go.” She bluntly states as she rises to her feet, picking up the two glasses and empty bottles. As she walks, struggling to grip everything you can feel shame hanging heavy in the atmosphere.

“I was holding him back.” Retorting in response, you turn to face her.

Natasha raises an eyebrow before placing the bottles and glasses down as she leans against your kitchen counter, giving you her full attention.

“Why?” She questions, watching as your eyes zone in on the coasters and stains lining your coffee table.

“What we had, it wasn’t perfect.” You admit. “But I thought it was enough, it wasn’t going to be enough.” You can feel tears forming, but you’re too tired to let them fall. “We were destined to have an expiry date. It’s within the contract of being who we are.”

Shaking her head, Natasha moves closer toward you. She watches as you turn your head away, sinking back into the chair as a buzz continues to spread through your body. “Just because you’re Avengers, doesn’t mean you can’t be happy.” She reminds you, she used to drone that into you. She regrets not taking her chance with Bruce, and seeing it ignite in someone else was as close as she could get.

Closing your eyes, you try to count how many glasses you drank. You listen as Natasha steps away from you, landing on that one creaking floorboard. You really should get that fixed, that was something he’d always help with without hesitation.

“Y/n,” She speaks up, forcing you from drowning in your own thoughts. “what about the time you went dancing? Didn’t you say afterwards you realised what you wanted in life?” You can see her eyes scanning yours. She’s grasping at straws, desperate to see something other than a longing ache fill your expression.

A slight laugh escapes your lips as you think back to it. Your thoughts swirl like the remainder of the wine in the bottle by your feet.

It was something you suggested going to. A chance to have a glimpse into his past.

“I’m not sure, doll.” Bucky sighed, looking as your smile began to falter. You knew it was too soon to do things out of the compound. Why would he want to be reminded of what he lost?

You nodded too quickly. “It’s okay, I just thought you might want to show me the dance moves you talk so highly of.” You smiled to him, watching as a glimmer spread across his face.

“Oh, I get it.” He laughed, pulling you closer.

His hands quickly found a comfortable spot. One in yours and the other resting on your waist.

“Get what, Buck?” You blinked your eyelashes too innocently to him, causing you to be lifted and spun in the air.

“I’ll show you, doll.” He winked to you, making your heart flutter.

The two of you swayed for a few minutes in silence, comfortable in one another's presence without any distraction. As you pulled away, giving him your phone to play something you watched his eyebrows furrow together. The look of pure concentration as he hit the keys harshly, making you wince internally.

He started the track, trying to disguise his pride for conquering an element of technology. The music filled his bedroom as you returned to your prior positions. His hand began to wander, pulling you closer into him as you stood in your underwear.

“I love this.” He whispered into your ear.

You didn't know how to respond at first because you knew, you knew you were going to lose him in that moment.

“You were scared of letting him in?” Natasha speaks up, snapping you out of your memories. Her tone sounds too final, too dismissive.

All you do is manage a weak nod. If you spoke about it, if you allowed your heart to open and the words to pour out you know you wouldn’t stop. You would stain her mind like a bottle of red on a cream carpet. The fear of the inevitable was too difficult to face tonight.

Within days of that moment happening, you both were sent on separate missions. You nearly lost yourself. If Steve hadn’t saved you from the situation you were in, you wouldn’t have returned to the compound.

Bucky kept a closer eye on you. You knew he did it out of care, that he was afraid of losing you. But quickly you felt yourself becoming china, too fragile to even look at.

You started to border yourself back up. The walls Bucky had spent hours to work through with you were rebuilding themselves. You were barricaded inside of your own mind, the negativity too difficult to let him glance at.

When he faced you, seeing your bag packed behind your door you feared his gaze. You feared to fall too deep into the abyss of those blue eyes. You knew you’d be swept up in the tide, the comfort he provided as you struggled to come up for breath.

Sitting upright, you wipe your eyes. “That, that’s it.” You state as you slowly stand up, stumbling over your own feet as Natasha moves closer with her arms out. You wave her off. “I’m fine.” You retort, seeing three of her before you.

“Come on,” She mutters as her arm links around yours, guiding you toward your bedroom in the small apartment, one that was supposed to be a temporary home. Yet, a year down the line, you still live with boxes lining the walls. “how much did you drink before I arrived?”

You don’t answer. The truth hurt too much.

Natasha helped you as you collapsed down onto your bed. She could see the left-hand side perfectly made, untouched.

“Get some rest, okay.” She tells you. “If I get another call from Tony I don’t think Fury will be pleased.” She reminds you of the last time and you half-smile, your eyes feeling heavier. “Are you ever coming back, Y/n?” Her question hangs heavy above you.

Turning on your side you nod to her. “I want to, Nat. I’m just not sure how.” You whisper as your eyes close.

Walking out of the bedroom, Natasha lets herself out, leaving you to face the empty side of the bed, knowing Bucky is doing the same back in the compound.

286 notes · View notes

httphopewrld · 5 years

Text

charismatic artist | (f)

Jin (BTS) | Charismatic Artist

Being a fashion designer is tougher than it looks. You realized this when your best friend, Seokjin, brought you along to one of his fashion shows. The day before was filled with him organizing outfits and the event’s details in the comfort of his room. At the end of the day, you understand how much he loved his career and the meaning behind his brand name.

Pairing: fashion designer!seokjin x reader

Rating: no rating!

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k+

A/N: Happy birthday Seokjin!!!

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Out of all the things you imagined him being, a fashion designer was the last. The boy with outstanding grades, good looks, great taste in food, and amazing vocals; he wanted to be a fashion designer.

At first, he second-guessed his decision. Everyone did. His rough sketches of clothing items were supposedly 'atrocious', or a 'disgrace to the fashion industry. To you, they were just fine.

In a matter of months, he got the hang of it. Seokjin's designs had quickly been introduced into numerous shops, with the company name: 'Butterfly'. He never said what the meaning behind the name was, but you assumed it was just a random name he had chosen.

Now your best friend was in fashion shows, runway magazines, Vogue even. Seokjin was winning award after award.

His first runway show will always be a reference. The look on his face was panic, mixed with utter happiness. Although the show was slightly disorganized; he felt like he could do anything after that.

You and Seokjin traveled to New York, for a fashion show, two days ago.

As usual, he'd pick a small suitcase full of his designing supplies, and a backpack filled with Korean snacks. And, of course, there was the expensive suits and clothing, packed in separate cases.

It was a late Friday night. The fashion show he'd been talking about for weeks, was happening tomorrow; which meant lots of planning, and lots of stress.

Seokjin had been in the office room, in the hotel suite, working on the pieces he was going to present. So far, it had been eleven hours; he only went for a bathroom break twice. You hoped that there were no bottles containing yellow liquid- like you found two years ago.

When he first shut the double doors, all you could hear was the faint sound of jazz music playing. Since then, you were 'busy' binging Netflix.

It had almost been nine hours of killing time until you were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.

You turned off the TV immediately.

For a full minute, you stared at the door, waiting for another round of distinctive knocks to happen again. The unnecessary suspense grew inside of your chest.

You finally became impatient, hurriedly getting off the sofa. You opened the door slowly, expecting to see a complaining staff member.

To your surprise, there was no one there. Just a tray with an elegant tea set, on the floor.

You looked both ways before picking up the tray and squiring back into the suite. The tea set shook as you carried it towards the office.

"Jin! There are some drinks here!" You yelled at the double doors.

"Coming!" His quick footsteps echoed on the tile floor as he walked towards you.

His bronze hair was messy, and his turtleneck was wrinkled. The trousers he wore were too long for his legs, making him look like a toddler wearing their father's clothing.

He greeted you with a smile before moving aside. "Come in. I haven't seen you at all today."

You heard the door close while you set the tray on the giant desk. Seokjin's footsteps continued until they came to an abrupt stop. There was loud creak, followed by his high-pitched yelp.

When you turned around, he was lying on a bed. He must've pulled it out from the wall.

"So, how's the preparation going?" You asked, pouring whatever was in the teapot into one of the China cups. To your surprise, rich hot chocolate.

"Good. I think I'm done for the night." He let out a sigh. "Now I can spend some time with my plus one." He wiggled his eyebrows, making you both erupt with laughter.

Seokjin made room for you on the Murphy bed as you passed him a cup. The bed squeaked as you both tried to find a comfortable position.

You clinked cups then took a sip. The combination of chocolate and milk made your body relax immediately. It had been so long since you tasted the slightly bitter dark chocolate.

"Why did you order hot chocolate?" You placed your cup on the side table and looked at him expectantly.

Seokjin stared at you, resting his cup on his thigh, "Can't a fashion designer enjoy their favorite childhood drink? Besides..." He placed the hot chocolate on the ground. "I'm getting sick of the fancy teas. They're all starting to taste the same."

You raised your eyebrows, "Wow... Poor you for getting sick of fancy teas that only a small amount of the population can even taste." You slowly clapped as he rolled his eyes.

"Congrats, Jin. Way to sound so sophisticated and like a conceited dick at the same time."

For a few seconds he seemed annoyed, but then a smirk formed onto his lips.

"Says the girl who hates traveling around the world, because of the ‘too soft’ first-class seats. Many people out there would kill to be in your position." He crossed his arms, leaning closer to you.

"I think you too, can be sophisticated and like a conceited dick at times." His eyes glanced at your lips, but then he refocused on your eyes.

"You’re such an idiot," you said before whacking him across the side of his head with a pillow. Seokjin burst into laughter, as he jumped off the bed, getting ready to defend himself with his own cushion.

You stared at his calm face. The movie you both watched continued to whisper something intangible to your ears. You closed the laptop and put it on the floor.

He had fallen asleep halfway through the movie, collapsing onto your shoulder. The weight of his head on your shoulder felt like bricks. His drooling didn't make it any better, either.

Wow, he really is tired...You thought as you rested his head onto a pillow; hoping that he wouldn't wake up.

His eyelids fluttered as you turned off the side table light. In an instant, you regretted doing it. Your vision was obscured by darkness.

As soon as your eyes adapted to the dark, you began to move towards the doors. You moved your hand frantically in front of you, making sure you didn't walk into a wall. Eventually, you could see a faint outline of your surroundings

Then there was a loud screech, like the legs of a chair on the ground. Even with your somewhat adapted vision, you had managed to walk into a chair.

"Y/N?" Seokjin's raspy voice made your body freeze.

"Y-Yes?" You stammered.

The light turned on, and all of a sudden you were eye to eye with sleepy Seokjin. There was a worried, but tired, look on his face.

"What happened?" He scratched his head as you continuously apologized for waking him up.

"It's fine." Seokjin leaned onto his hand and stared at you with a confused look.

He tilted his head, "Where are you going?"

You looked at the door, then back at him. "Back to my room. We need to wake up early, and it's already—”

"You hear that?" Seokjin looked at the ceiling, listening for something. You didn't hear anything.

He pointed up to the ceiling, furrowing his brows.

Then his expression turned bright as if he’s solved something major. "It seems there's some thunder happening, and you know I'm scared of thunder..." He said enthusiastically, but with a touch of sarcasm. Seokjin patted the space beside him.

You couldn't help but walk towards the cheesy boy. He turned the light off as you laid down on the bed.

It took a bit for you to get comfortable in the bed since you were sleeping beside your close friend, who was a guy. You soon found a comfortable position and closed your eyes.

You heard Seokjin yawn and move closer to you.

"Y/N? Are you still awake?" He whispered after a couple of minutes.

"What is it Jin? I’m trying to sleep." You turned to face him, your knees touching his. To your surprise, he didn't recoil back. He moved closer.

"Do you still wonder why I name my brand 'Butterfly'?" You could see his calm face in the dark.

"Kind of, yes," You admitted.

"I named it after you."

Your eyes opened wide, and you felt your cheeks become hot. It felt like more of a shocking feeling than a happy one, but you were still flattered. Your heart raced as he continued.

"Butterflies are supposed to make you feel free, just like how you make me feel. You're the shining light in the darkness." Seokjin looked away from you.

"But I'm also afraid that I'll lose you someday, just like a butterfly flying away."

Your heart raced rapidly in the silence between you two. The nervousness finally subsided as you mustered up the courage to speak.

“You’re not joking right?” You asked, still not completely convinced.

He shook his head, “I’m not joking.”

You let the silence sit between you two before speaking, "thanks," while fighting back the tears of joy from spilling from your eyes.

You moved your face closer his and kissed his forehead. "Thank you very much, Seokjin."

42 notes · View notes

bensakindofmagic · 5 years

Text

Chapter Six

Warnings: none?

A/N: I know jack about wine, go with me on it babes

w/c: 3.1k+

Chapter Six

The sight of him threw your whole world off-kilter. Matteo was standing with a small group, chatting animatedly with a Martini in hand — his drink of choice. It had been so long since you’d seen him, and you’d spent so long thinking about him, moving on from him. One glimpse of his face and you were plunged right back into that time. You were 22 again, falling fiercely in love with the handsome Italian stranger who sat down beside you when you were eating dinner at a restaurant alone one night, the man who made love to you like you were an ancient goddess, whom you had spent months crying over when you moved back to London. Nausea rumbled in your stomach. All that pain, all that growth from the last few years was wiped away in a moment. One look, one smile from him and you’d be putty in his hands again. The room felt like it was spinning, and you grabbed onto whatever was in your hands to steady yourself. It was firm but comfortable, and you looked up to meet Ben’s eyes. Ben.

His face was full of concern at your sudden reaction, your stiffness, the confusion and anxiety that was undoubtedly plastered all over your features. Maybe seeing Matteo again was some kind of sign, something to tempt you away from Ben. Maybe it was the universe telling you to steer clear of the blonde that felt so right in your arms.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You nodded tentatively, and offered an evasive mumble, hoping that would suffice. You detached your limbs from his, inhaling sharply at the loss of contact. Without him, you suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed. You began to make your way off the dance floor towards your table, when Matteo glanced around the room and caught sight of you. You locked eyes and the breath flew from your chest, leaving you hollow. He began to take steady steps towards you and without your knowledge or permission your feet were leading you to meet him. Finally, seeing him up close, you felt limp. His features were as warm as you remembered; light brown eyes with flecks of bright gold that always seemed to be smiling, thick curly hair, just a shade lighter than black that you had always loved getting your fingers lost in, the scruff he used to sport on his chin had grown into a full beard. His smile was honey sweet and so nostalgic.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice like velvet. You always loved the way he said your name in his Italian accent, the way he used to moan it from between your thighs. He settled his hands softly on your arms and placed a kiss on each cheek. He was still using the same aftershave; the familiar scent whisking you back to warm Italian evenings, tangled naked in the sheets and in him, the balmy air and the glow of the dying sun and the melodic singing coming from the apartment across the street drifting in through the open window. Bliss.

“Hi Matty.” He smiled at the nickname and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, never shy about physical intimacy. The butterflies inside your stomach started flapping wildly.

“You look more beautiful than ever. Are you well, my love?”

You told him you were, and he replied that he was in London for work, just for a few weeks. He conducted conversation with causal ease, leading you along with him like a lost puppy. You couldn’t have walked away from him if you wanted to. The whole exchange was light and dreamy, and you got entirely lost in him, just like the first time you met. He had approached your table-for-two, occupied by one, and motioned to the chair, raising an eyebrow. You assumed he was asking to take the chair to another table, but instead he sat down and started talking with you. By the end of the evening you’d shared two bottles of wine, your life story, and your bed with him. Everything was effortless with Matteo, you’d fallen in love with him without ever realising it, like slipping into a deep sleep. It felt like you’d never been apart, like you hadn’t spent weeks vacating the contents of your heart through your eyes. The rug of five years’ worth of personal growth was pulled out from under you. After what could have been seconds or hours, one of his party came to tell him they were leaving. He nodded, and flashed you another one of those make-you-weak-at-the-knees smiles. You nearly collapsed.

“Well, my darling, I have to leave. But I must see you again, we have so much still to share. Come for dinner with me tomorrow?”

You agreed that you would, without even considering if it was a good idea, and arranged a time and place. He took your hand, his skin soft, and planted a kiss on the back of it.

“Alla prossima, angelo mio.”

With that he was gone, vanishing from your presence as quickly as he had appeared. You stumbled back to your table, to which Ben, Rami, and Joe had returned, and sat down in a daze. The guys looked between each other in silent conversation, waiting for you to say something. Ben was staring at you, wishing, praying, that you’d tell him the handsome stranger, who had absorbed you so completely for the last half an hour, was no one. If you didn’t his heart was liable to shatter.

“Um, Y/N,” Rami ventured, “Who was that?”

His words snapped you out of your reverie, and your eyes met Ben’s. Their pleading was clear, but for what you didn’t know. All you were certain of was your confusion. You had been convinced, very much against your will, that you were falling for Ben, then with one look at Matteo you could believe you were in love with him. But it had taken you years to move on from him, to repair the damage the heartbreak had unwittingly caused, to learn to love yourself without him, without anyone. You had learnt not to define yourself against a man, but against yourself. Against your hopes and dreams and desires; you were living for yourself. You had worked so damn hard for this life you were building, and your instinct was to push both men out of it for fear that they would destroy it like a bull in a china shop. But your heart longed to let one of them in — which one it wanted was uncertain.

“That was Matteo.”

“Your ex?” Joe confirmed.

“My first love.” You laughed half-heartedly to alleviate the tension, with limited success. You tried to ignore Ben’s burning stare.

“How do you feel?” Gwil asked, noticing your reticence and the flush creeping up your neck.

When the words came out they were barely a whisper: “I don’t know.” Tears pricked at your eyes, but you desperately held them back, digging your fingernails into your palms.

Don’t you dare cry. You were furious with your tear ducts for betraying you, your anger of course only making things worse. One conversation with Matteo and you wanted to collapse into a tear-stained mess. That should have been a warning to you, really, but you couldn’t see past the cacophony of conflicting emotions and doubts screaming in your head for attention. It was too much; you longed to hide yourself away in the safety of your bed and forget everything. The pain in your palms brought you back to yourself. You looked down at them to see eight deep, crescent-shaped marks, angry and purple. “I need to go home,” you rasped, and swallowed harshly.

“I’ll go with you,” Gwil said, moving to get his coat.

You shook your head, “No, it’s fine Gwil. Honestly, I’ll be okay, you stay.” As kind as his offer was, as much as you saw it came from a good place, you couldn’t bear the thought of having to sit with someone on the tube ride home. Having to make small talk, or worse answer questions, trying not to cry.

“At least let me call you an Uber.” You felt guilty letting him pay for it, but it was dark and you were vulnerable. You also sensed he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

You nodded, and wrapped yourself in your coat. You tried a feeble wave to the others, but couldn’t bring yourself to look at Ben. You were well aware of his stares, causing the skin on your neck to prickle.

“Thank you, Gwil,” you whimpered as you got outside, sucking the cool air in gratefully.

“No problem,” he smiled fraternally, and gave you a hug. You shivered a little in his embrace, so he rubbed your arms to create some warmth. The taxi arrived not long after, and you said goodbye, asking Gwil to give the guys your apologies and your love.

The drive went in a haze of streetlights, blurred by the tears that finally fell leaving track marks down your cheeks. You clambered up the steps to your apparent in a trance and climbed into your bed that had only sporadically been slept in over the past few weeks, The second your head hit the pillow your body pulled you into sleep, rescuing you from your thoughts.

Gwil had gone back to the guys after seeing you safely off. “She’s okay, she said she’s sorry for taking off,” he said as he sat back down.

“It should have been me,” Ben seethed, “I should have taken her home.”

“She wouldn’t have wanted you to mate, I think she just wanted to be alone.”

He ran his hand roughly through his hair, “I just fucking sat here. She was clearly in pain and I sat here! I should have been there for her, like she was there for me.”

“There’ll be a time for that, buddy,” Joe said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He mused, “It really affected her though, seeing that guy. I wonder what happened between them.”

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling it wasn’t just that,” Rami intoned insightfully. “Did anyone else notice that she never looked at Ben?”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” he retorted, a little hurt.

“Well, I think you had something to do with why she was so upset,” Rami continued, raising an eyebrow to insinuate the words he left unsaid. Ben, however, did not get the hint.

“Me? What did I do?”

Rami sighed exasperatedly, “She has feelings for you! She’s confused, she doesn’t know what she wants, or what she can have.”

“You two do flirt constantly,” Gwil inclined.

“That’s just banter. She’s like that with everyone,” Ben argued.

“Are you kidding?” Joe exclaimed, “What was it she said the other day? ‘Your face it so pretty it hurts’? She has banter with us, she flirts with you.”

“But what about this other guy?”

“Exactly,” Rami reasoned, “She’s already confused about you, and then he shows up to throw a spanner in the works.”

Ben wanted so desperately to believe them, to believe you had feelings for him, “You really think so?”

Joe shrugged, “There’s only one way to find out. You gotta talk to her.”

You were grateful for a day off the next day — you had been given one day’s grace before the next stage of shooting started. You’d woken with the weight of what had happened the previous night sitting heavily on your chest. Catching up on the mindless housework that had fallen by the wayside whilst on set, your thoughts wondered to your dilemma. You liked Ben, that much was certain; he was a valued friend and you enjoyed his company. Sure, he was maybe the hottest man you’d ever seen, he made you smile like no one else, and he made you feel more comfortable in yourself than anyone you’d ever met, but you’d decided that that was exactly why you couldn’t be together. Your friendship with him was too important to risk, and in the end your career had to come first. It had been a tough lesson, learning to put yourself first, but one you weren’t liable to forget in a hurry. You would have to deal with your feelings for him and move on. Part of you felt like the universe had dropped Matteo into your path to help you do that. He was a distraction at the very least. At the most? You supposed you’d find out at dinner.

By the time the evening started creeping up on you, a knot of nervous energy had formed in your stomach. You weren’t sure how the evening would play out, or what you wanted from it. You didn’t have a clue whether it was a date or not, which made picking an outfit particularly difficult. You stood in front of your wardrobe, wrapped in a towel with another one in a turban on your head, fully shaved and moisturised just in case. The gentle tones of Fleetwood Mac on vinyl filled your apartment. Jeans and a nice top? But the restaurant he had picked was fancier than that. You pulled out a red dress you’d bought for a party and only worn once. You’d been looking for another occasion to wear it, but it was a little too fancy (not to mention skimpy), and seemed inappropriate if it wasn’t a date. Nothing in your wardrobe was singing to you, until you eventually settled on a pair of pink culottes with a white blouse French tucked, a leather jacket, and heeled boots. Stylish, elegant, classy. With your hair styled and makeup done — natural glow and a red lip — you gave yourself a wink in the mirror, feeling confident for the first time in days, and headed out the door.

You’d agreed to meet Matteo at the restaurant, contributing to your unease as to whether it was a platonic meal or not, and arrived a few minutes after the specified time. It an Italian place (shocker), with artisan decor and Renaissance paintings on the walls — all together a lot more nudity than usually accompanied your dining experiences.

“Ciao, bellissima,” you heard his supple tones from across the room. The table was in a corner where the light was dim, below a copy of Titian’s Venus of Urbino, and you wondered if he chose the table specifically.

“Ciao,” you responded, kissing his cheeks, and said with a giggle, “I take it you picked this place on purpose?”

His laugh was like velvet, “I thought it would remind us of sweeter days.”

“Sweeter days? Are they not sweet now?”

He took your hand and kissed it, “They were always sweeter when you were in them.”

You blushed a little and occupied your fingers by toying with your hair.

“I took the liberty of ordering wine, I hope you don’t mind,” he said as he poured you a glass.

You took a sip; it was crips against your tongue. He raised an eyebrow to you, indicating for you to guess the wine. He had been teaching about wine when you were together, and he always made you try and guess the vintage.

“I’d say it’s Tuscan,” and he nodded with glee. The year was always the tricky bit, and you never got it right no matter how many times he tried to teach you, “2011?” you guessed.

He let out a rumbling laugh, “2007. You never learnt.”

The rest of the evening went in much the same fashion, reminiscing, catching up on your lives, gentle teasing. Physical contact was almost constant, whether he was feeding you from his plate, tucking your hair behind your ear, resting his hand atop yours. Had you been out with anyone else you would have been certain he was flirting, but this was Matty. He was affectionate, extroverted, Italian. By the time you were eating biscotti with dessert wine, you still didn’t know where the evening was going, but your belly was as full as your heart, and jaw ached from smiling. Despite your protests Matty footed the bill, and when you went back out into the crisp autumn evening he offered you his arm and crooned, “Walk with me.” So you did, through the still bustling streets of London along the Thames. You stopped to watch the lights bounce off the water, dancing arrhythmically. You felt peaceful, a welcome change from the emotional turmoil of the last few days.

“I've missed you, amore,” he purred, settling your body close to his. You looked up into his eyes and saw passion in them, his warmth pulling you in like a moth to a flame. He cupped your jaw gently and dipped his head towards your lips. You faltered, frozen in anticipation, suddenly unsure if you wanted him to kiss you. From nowhere Ben’s face flickered to your mind. You thought about the way you had danced together the previous night, about his hand on the small of your back, so gentle, as if he wasn’t sure it belonged there. But nothing had ever belonged more. You thought about how you had heard his heartbeat when you lay your head on his chest, how you had wondered if that heart could beat for you. You thought about how desperate you had been for him to kiss you, until you had seen Matteo. And now it was Matty’s lips approaching yours. They met, and he locked you in his embrace. The simple contact set off sparks in your body, a chain reaction that reminded every nerve in your body of how he made you feel. His tongue entered your mouth assuredly, and you dissolved into him. You disappeared, leaving only the vibrations of his touch. He detached from you, and you sucked in an unsteady breath of cold air.

“Come back with me, bella,” he said, stroking your cheek with light fingers, “Let us remember how our love used to feel.”

Despite the pulsing in your chest and between your thighs, you whispered, “I can’t. I have to work in the morning.” You knew full well that you could get from his hotel to set in the morning, but a slight unease sat on your shoulder and muttered in your ear to go home, alone.

“That is then, this is now,” he hummed.

You shook your head, “Not tonight, caro.”

Placing a chaste kiss on his cheek, you turned on your heel and walked away, smiling slightly to yourself as you felt his eyes on you, watching you leave. But a racing heartbeat and hurricane of emotions hid behind your self-possessed exterior, and once again you were plunged into a whirlpool of confused desire.

tags: @anikatcmh @queen-turtle-boiii @orchideax @rogerspoison @my5secondsofneverland @mrsmazzello @ixchel-9275 @radiob-l-a-hblah @devin-marie @luvborhap @mercurycrowley @spaghetittiesbcimgay @valeriecarolinaw @saint-hardy @caborhapch @stephanie-everlasting @coldmuffinpartycloud

#kind of magic series #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody #joe mazzello #gwilym lee #rami malek #queen #borhap

107 notes · View notes

naturalhairhairgrowth · 4 years

Text

Are You Awake YET???

What you are about to read is based on facts that can be proven, not opinion. Look around the world at all that's going on. There's the world-wide coronavirus pandemic, locust invasions in several countries, other insect and bat invasions, food shortages, natural disasters all over the world, protests and riots, rumors of wars, collapsing of the dollar, etc. etc.. Do people seriously believe all this is just a coincidence, that things are going to get all better and be back to normal? Are that many people really asleep? Well, with the powers that be, the elite, controlling the world and working hard to put the masses to sleep, it’s no wonder. Everything you see in the media is to keep your focus on vanity, celebrities, wealth, violence, explicit sexual content, homosexuality, lying, fighting, brainless foolish nonsense, to force inappropriate and unacceptable ideas in your mind, to make you think they are all okay. And the majority love it and eat it all up.

The media also mocks Jesus Christ and being a Christian. Men have formed religions which are traditions of men, not GOD; confusing you and making you not very interested in Jesus at all. Have you ever wondered why it’s always Jesus that’s being attacked? Why not all the hundreds of religions out there? It’s because they know where the Truth is, and that is Jesus Christ. Remember that woman who broke open a very expensive bottle of precious oil and poured it on Jesus’ head before His death, because He and only He is worthy. (Matthew 26:6-13 KJV). You can’t run this world without worshiping the devil, he is the one that gave the elite their power and wealth. We can see that clearly when the devil tried to do the very same to Jesus Christ in Matthew 4:8-10 KJV.. ”Again, the devil taketh (took) him up into an exceeding high mountain, and sheweth (showed) him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them; And saith unto (said to) him, All these things will I give thee (you), if thou wilt (you will) fall down and worship me. Then saith (said) Jesus unto (to) him, Get thee hence (go from here), Satan: for it is written, Thou shalt (you will) worship the Lord thy (your) God, and him only shalt thou (will you) serve.” The devil doesn’t want you to make it into Heaven because he’s not going to Heaven, he doesn't want you to know that to get there you MUST accept Jesus Christ as your Sacrifice (The payment for sin), that Jesus loves you so much that He died to take away your sins, that you can be forgiven of all sins, and that you MUST be baptized in water (full body immersion, not sprinkled, etc.) and receive the Holy Spirit, repent, turn from sin, obey GOD and Jesus, and walk in the ways of Jesus to enter Heaven.

So when you look around and see a corrupt world dealing with such disasters and fatalities, that’s because it’s a lawless world who doesn't choose the ways of GOD. The majority don’t know GOD, don’t follow HIM, and sadly do not care. They are more focused on themselves and this temporary life, just as they have been brainwashed by the media to be. So let’s take a closer look at all that’s going on now, and see how the Holy Bible already prophesied these things thousands of years ago, letting us know these things would happen and why.

Coronavirus (Pestilence), Locusts, and Food Shortages (Famine)

The coronavirus was started in Wuhan, China, supposedly in a wet market where tons of unclean food is sold. In the Holy Bible, GOD lets us know in Leviticus 11, which animals are clean and may be eaten, and which animals are unclean and cannot be eaten. Not only are we commanded not to eat them, but we are commanded not to even touch their dead carcasses. These animals can clearly carry diseases which can harm humans, so it’s not hard to see how this coronavirus pestilence got started if people are eating unclean animals. Even if this virus was planned in a lab, you cannot create something out of nothing, the disease still has to be taken from an unclean animal, etc. Not only were they doing this but also torturing the animals, eating them alive, persecuting the few Christians in China, worshiping false idols and false gods, etc. And well, sins against GOD do not go unpunished; no matter what nation. The majority of people in the world don’t truly obey GOD, even if they have HIS Name on their lips.

In 2 Chronicles 7:13-14 KJV, GOD says, "If I shut up heaven that there be no rain, or if I command the locusts to devour the land, or if I send pestilence among my people; If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land." Just as this scripture says, right now we see pestilences (the coronavirus and even ebola again), locusts, which are eating up all the crops in several countries, and famine, food shortages happening. So clearly this is a punishment allowed upon the wicked. But will they turn to GOD and obey HIM? Doesn't look like the majority are. So be ready to see greater tribulation as the bible also lets us know is soon coming in Matthew 24 KJV. It’s time to know you must accept Jesus Christ as your Sacrifice, be baptized in water (full body immersion, not sprinkled, etc.) and receive the Holy Spirit, repent, turn from sin, obey GOD and Jesus Christ, and walk in His ways just as scripture says, if you expect to enter Heaven.

Collapse of the Dollar, Mark of the Beast (Micro-Chip Implant), Worship of the Beast (Sunday Worship Law), One World Order (Antichrist)

Now when you walk in stores you can actually see signs stating there is a “coin shortage”. One and five dollar bills will soon follow. The government has been talking about the collapse of the dollar for years, and the coronavirus was their perfect opportunity to do just that. There is no “coin shortage”, they want to enforce their microchip technology on us, the new currency, a chip implant which goes in your right hand or forehead, in which you cannot buy or sell unless you have! The bible already let us know this would happen. “And he causeth (causes) all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads: And that no man might buy or sell, save (except) he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name.“ Revelation 13:16-17 KJV.

This sounds all too familiar, as that scripture above stated, the Antichrist will try to cause all to worship him, and now the Pope is trying to enforce a mandatory Sunday worship law. So be sure you are reading the Holy Bible and know GOD commands us to keep the seventh day of the week as the Sabbath which is Saturday, not Sunday! You should know and be living in obedience to all of GOD’s commandments, they are for your own good! Don’t end up following the Antichrist to the lake of fire to burn for eternity by following traditions of men, rather than GOD. Jesus lets us know in Matthew 24:24 KJV “For there shall (will) arise false Christs, and false prophets, and shall shew (will show) great signs and wonders; insomuch that, if it were possible, they shall (will) deceive the very elect.”

If you don't already know, if you worship the beast and take his mark that allows you to buy and sell in this world, the following WILL happen to you!.. "..If any man worship the beast and his image, and receive his mark in his forehead, or in his hand, The same shall drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is poured out without mixture into the cup of his indignation; and he shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the holy angels, and in the presence of the Lamb: And the smoke of their torment ascendeth up for ever and ever: and they have no rest day nor night, who worship the beast and his image, and whosoever receiveth the mark of his name.” Revelation 14:9-11 KJV

The governments are working together behind the scenes to create a One World Order; One World Religion (bringing all religions together, because they are all false anyway and they know it), One World Leader (the Antichrist), and One World Currency (the Micro-Chip Implant). These things are not secret, just do the research.

So, Are You Awake Yet?

We are living in the end times, as the bible clearly lets us know in Matthew 24. As verses 6-8 state.. “And ye shall (you will) hear of wars and rumours of wars: see that ye (you) be not troubled: for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet. For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall (will) be famines (food shortages), and pestilences (viruses), and earthquakes, in divers places. All these are the beginning of sorrows.” Do you not see all these things happening? So, don’t be like the many sleeping and ignorant who have no clue what’s going on in this world, especially when this was all prophesied thousands of years ago that these things would happen, and you have access to the Truth right there in the Holy Bible.

At this point it just makes no sense for anyone not to believe in the word of GOD. The bible is literally unfolding right before your very eyes. Oh how the devil deceives and blinds the eyes of people. What we all need to be doing is seeking GOD and Jesus Christ more than ever! The Holy Bible does not only tell us about these things, but that after the tribulation which is soon approaching us, that Jesus Christ will be returning to destroy this wicked world and take His children to the Kingdom of GOD to live in perfect happiness for eternity. So what do you need to do to secure your place there, and not end up burning in the lake of fire for eternity with the evil deceiver (satan) who is working through men and running this world right now? You must accept Jesus Christ as your Sacrifice, be baptized in water (full body immersion, not sprinkled, etc.) and receive the Holy Spirit, repent, turn from sin, obey GOD and Jesus Christ, and walk in His ways to enter Heaven. It’s time to put your focus in eternal life, read the bible, and research what’s really going on in this world. We are in a spiritual battle, all is a manifestation of evil spirits and satan at work, and they have been plotting against you since before you were born, to keep you away from Jesus Christ and receiving Salvation.

2 notes · View notes

satonthelotuspier · 4 years

Text

A Very Hallmark Untamed Christmas

So I spent my Sunday writing this gimmicky piece that makes no sense in either small town America or Ancient Cultivational China. It is full of hallmark style cliche with a WangXian twist.

Updated so whole fic is included below, I am potato and didn’t realise tumblr didn’t have a limit on text posts

Plot bunnied by this post

Wei Wuxian kicked the tyre of his car in temper. If Nie Huaisang had been on hand it would have been his friend he’d quite like to have kicked, it being that man who’d convinced him he really had to make the trip home this year, with his recent breakup and the fact it had been a while since he’d seen any of his family he’d said it was the perfect time.

Never mind the fact it had been thirteen years since he’d been chased out of Cultivation, Wyoming, population: assholes.

He dragged the spare tyre out and tossed it in the road beside the jack and wrench he’d already dug out.

And to top it all off it was starting to snow.

“Perfect” Wei Wuxian growled, starting to change the tyre as quickly as possible, snow in Wyoming could be brutal.

He was halfway through the process when a police cruiser pulled over behind his car and the driver got out and walked over.

“Do you need some help?” the gentle voice was vaguely familiar to Wei Wuxian and he looked up from his task. They both recognised each other at the same time. To be honest, there wasn’t really much mistaking the face that looked more like it belonged on the catwalk than behind the long arm of the law. It’s distinctive features had only lost a little of the soft roundness of youth that he remembered, now it was all elegant angles and arching brows over soft light amber eyes.

“Wei Ying?” there was shock in Lan Zhan’s voice.

“Lan Zhan” he rose to his feet and almost reached out to shake hands before he remembered his were covered in grease. So much for his manicure. “So you’re sheriff now” he said as he saw the police badge pinned to the other’s shirt.

“Mn, are you back to visit your family?”

“Among other things” he confirmed, “How are yours?”

And oh my god, if he had to go through a month of this kind of awkward small talk with people he barely knew anymore he’d just die.

They talked a little more of inconsequential things while Lan Zhan helped him finish up the tyre change and if he felt a little guilty for letting Lan Zhan take the lead while he held back to check out Lan Zhan’s undeniably fine ass then so be it; he deserved the eyeful as reward for putting up with the small town small talk.

Once changed he was bundled into his car and sent off towards town before the snow got worse with Lan Zhan’s “I’ll see you around, Wei Ying” ringing in his ears.

And if he kept checking the rear-view mirror until he turned a bend in the road then it was just road safety and nothing else.

***

Jiang Cheng was his usual welcoming self when Wei Wuxian arrived at Lotus Pier. Although they hadn’t seen each other in four or five years they’d kept in close contact via electronic means.

“Glad you could drop by” Jiang Cheng snarked, but his hug was genuine and warm and honestly everything Wei Wuxian had missed.

He snarked some more about Wei Wuxian not treating the house like a hotel, but when Wei Wuxian went up to his old room it had been aired, completely scrubbed clean with fresh bedding and there was even a vase of fresh flowers. The latter had probably been Yanli’s touch even if the former weren’t.

After dinner that evening Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian sat in the p in front of a roaring fire, something else he admitted he’d missed in the big city full of central heating and aircon.

The decorated tree glinted and sparkled in the dancing firelight and the flashing tree lights.

They’d drunk several bottles of beer with dinner and while catching up afterwards and both their tongues were loosened as a result.

Jiang Cheng admitted how close Lotus Pier was to financial collapse, something he’d never discussed with Wei Wuxian until now.

In his guilt over having left Jiang Cheng alone to deal with it all he admitted the reason he’d had to leave thirteen years ago, that Mayor Jin Guangshan had threatened him that something might happen to Jiang Yanli, his own daughter-in-law if Wei Wuxian didn’t get out of his sight, all because Wei Wuxian’s mother had refused his disgusting advances once.

Jiang Cheng was incensed, “You mean I lost my brother because that old bastard just couldn’t keep his dick in his pants?” but in the end Jin Guangshan was dead and there was nothing his anger could do.

“I’m here now” Wei Wuxian soothed, rubbing his shoulder and he ranted.

“But you won’t be staying” Jiang Cheng said morosely, staring at the dregs of the beer left in his bottle.

“No, I won’t be staying. But New York isn’t the end of the world Jiang Cheng, it’s only a flight away”

That knowledge didn’t seem to make either of them feel better that night.

***

Wei Wuxian classed himself as a city boy now, thirteen years had left their indelible print on him and he normally adhered to a routine of late mornings and later nights except when he was coming up to a deadline and his time was tight, or he was writing something that particularly consumed him.

His first day back in Cultivation he was up at the crack of dawn however, riding the ranch to take stock of what had changed in the intervening years.

His early morning was a direct consequence of a sleepless night were he’d tossed and turned at both the discomfort of being back in Cultivation and the worry over what Jiang Cheng had told him about the ranch.

Luckily he’d put those hours to good use and he had a pretty solid idea of how Jiang Cheng could diversify and keep everything afloat, with some initial capital investment which he could provide himself.

He called his agent and friend from High School Wen Ning first thing after his walk and had a quick discussion about the finances should he need them.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t going to be hot on the idea, but he only needed to agree, not like it.

Being a city boy himself Wei Wuxian knew that if Jiang Cheng could set up a leisure venture in conjunction with the ranch it could be the difference between stability, maybe even profitability, and bankruptcy.

They’d pulled back the acreage they used for pasture over the years as they’d reduce their cattle herds, and some of that land had been reclaimed by the woods. If they could turn that into camping grounds, along with renovating the old cabins down by the lake shore it would be a good start towards building Lotus Pier as a tourist destination. They could take advantage of local hiking and biking tracks, as well as provide access to water sports on the lake and even horse riding. It would take advantage of the huge market of people who liked or wanted to use their vacation time to get away from the stresses and strains of city life and just relax out in nature.

It would take time to embed, and Jiang Cheng would need a manager for that side of the business, he wasn’t a people person so the further he was away from the customers the better, but it would eventually provide capital to build more cabins and extend the facilities with careful management.

And possibly then provide enough profit that the ranch part running at a loss didn’t even matter.

Now he just needed to sell the idea to his grumpy brother.

Jiang Cheng would be out on the ranch completing chores at this time of the morning and he didn’t want to be dragged into them on his first day back, so he showered and drove back into town. Luckily the snow yesterday had only ended in a light covering which had melted overnight.

***

Failing a Starbucks he called into the local diner for a coffee to combat his lack of sleep, and ran into the town LEO.

“Wei Ying” there was a trace of something that sounded almost pleased in Lan Zhan’s modulated voice.

“Lan Zhan, thanks for your help yesterday, I managed to get to Lotus Pier with no problems”

“Good” Lan Zhan looked like he had something on his mind and Wei Wuxian hoped he wasn’t disturbing him. He almost backed off in guilt until the other one asked quietly, “Wei Ying, have dinner with me?”

Wei Wuxian wouldn’t pretend the idea didn’t throw him a little, he hadn’t really ever thought that he and Lan Zhan had been close enough to warrant grabbing dinner together to catch up now he was back.

But he was at a loose end at the moment, and moping in the house night after night would only lead to him being morose over his breakup with Mian Mian, even six months later as it was.

“Uh, alright? I’m free tomorrow or later this week?” habit of his city life had him pulling his phone out to check his calendar, “Send me an event?”

Lan Zhan looked at him blankly.

“Okayyy. Guess I’ll just put that in manually then. Tomorrow?”

“Mn, I can come and pick you up at Lotus Pier?”

“No need I can borrow Jiang Cheng’s truck if the snow gets bad, message me where to meet you”

“I don’t have your number”

“Oh, haha of course not” he pulled a business card out of wallet and handed it over to Lan Zhan, “Message me, I’m going to see Shijie now” and like a whirlwind he collected his coffee and disappeared.

***

Lan Wangji looked down at the card in his hand, not entirely sure what had just happened. Actually no, he was pretty sure he’d asked Wei Ying out on a date, and he was just as sure Wei Ying had accepted his invitation, but it wasn’t as a date.

“That boy’s as thick as a post” Song Lan said from a nearby booth where he sat eating breakfast and drinking coffee, the fact he had his paramedics uniform on suggested he was either just going on or coming off duty. “Twenty bucks says he doesn’t even realise you asked him out”

It wasn’t a bet Lan Wangji was willing to take.

***

Jiang Yanli was an utter mess the moment she opened the door to him. She didn’t let him go for what felt like hours as she hugged and cried over him, alternating between cooing at how grown up and handsome he looked now and telling him off for not visiting before now.

“I promise I’ll visit more often” he soothed as he hugged back and tried not to cry himself. There was at least no danger to him returning more often now. And he’d admit he hadn’t realised how much he’d missed his family, how much he hadn’t allowed himself to admit it in the past because he’d been helpless to do anything about the reasons why.

As it was Saturday Jin Ling was home, the seven year old obviously knew who his Uncle Wuxian was but had only ever seen him through pictures and over video calls. He was curious but quite nervous of Wei Wuxian at first. But for some reason children always warmed up to him quickly and they were soon drawing Christmas themed pictures together at the counter while Yanli performed the Spanish Inquisition on him about everything from his latest book release to how he was doing post-Mian Mian to who he’d seen since he’d been back in town.

“I’m having drinks with Nie Huaisang tonight” he told her and scratched his chin as he remembered the other plans he’d made, “Oh yeah, and I’m going to dinner with Lan Zhan tomorrow. Weird right? I didn’t even think we were that close back then”

Yanli looked at him carefully, “Lan Wangji asked you out?” as if the thought surprised her greatly.

“I know right, I felt the same” Wei Wuxian shook his head in confused amusement. “Tell me what’s being going on in the Jin house, Shijie”

***

He was so surprisingly busy the next few weeks flew by as it drew closer and closer to Christmas, he spent time on the ranch helping out Jiang Cheng. When Jin Ling wasn’t at school he followed Wei Wuxian everywhere; and as they enjoyed a surge of mild weather they went horse riding and hiking. He even took him fishing down to the pier next to the old, rundown boathouse, that had given Lotus Pier it’s name, Jin Ling seemed to enjoy it greatly. He even showed Wei Wuxian his den in the woods.

Wei Wuxian sold his diversification idea to Jiang Cheng, explaining in great detail what he could envision doing well, what they’d need to do legally, what he could do personally in terms of capital investment, and presented the forecasts he’d had his accountant look into producing. Jiang Cheng was a hard sell, which was why Wei Wuxian had put a lot of information and projections together to basically present him with an offer he literally couldn’t refuse.

Jiang Yanli took every opportunity to fuss and cluck over him, try to feed him up, listen to all his worries and concerns and give the best sisterly advice. She often asked him how things were progressing with Lan Zhan, but he didn’t really understand why she was so interested in his relationship with the Sheriff.

He spent time with Nie Huaisang, being heckled and sassed and told everyone else’s gossip, whether he wanted to hear it or not.

Everywhere he went he ran into Officer Lan, looking dashing in his uniform. They went out to dinner and for drinks quite often, building the friendship Wei Wuxian was sure they hadn’t had in the past despite Lan Zhan seeking him out all the time. Unfortunately there was also a rising attraction Wei Wuxian was trying desperately to squash; not only was Lan Zhan devastatingly handsome he was kind and attentive too. It was heady stuff and he struggled not to let it go to his head.

And he joined everyone else in town watching Lan Zhan’s brother Xichen be followed around by half the available population of Cultivation, like adoring puppies. Particularly strong suits came from Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao, and Jiang Cheng. Not that it did them any good because Xichen noticed nothing.

“I’m sorry Lan Zhan, but your brother is such a himbo” he commented one day as they left the diner with coffee cups, watching Lan Xichen walk down the street with Meng Yao, who looked at him like he hung the moon, “Who could be so clueless as to not notice when someone is making that kind of play?”

For a second some odd look crossed Lan Zhan’s face and Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure if was disbelief or if he was about laugh or cry, it settled into it’s usual expressionlessness though, and Lan Zhan just shook his head helplessly, “Yes, who” was his only comment. Wei Wuxian thought he must really despair of his brother’s obliviousness.

He did wonder sometimes though why Lan Wangji didn’t have similar amounts of fans, he was just as good looking, had a great job, and was a genuinely kind man. But no-one seemed to pant after him like after Xichen. It was very odd, almost as if he was off the market.

What was even odder to Wei Wuxian was the more involved he got the less he suddenly minded being stuck in Small Town USA.

***

Unfortunately his attraction to Lan Zhan did continue to grow and he found it harder and harder to keep his interactions that of a friend only. Especially one evening as they had drinks at the Lakeside. It was a party atmosphere inside as Christmas was approaching fast, and the bar was trimmed up to the nines with wreaths, trees, garlands, lights and holly and mistletoe everywhere. Everyone was having a great time dancing to the holiday music.

Everyone was having so much fun and for some reason urging them on, which was probably why they ended up swaying together on the dance-floor and necking under the mistletoe some mischievous employee had hung up all over the ceiling above the entire length of the bar-room.

When the music stopped they didn’t discuss it but they ended up in Lan Zhan’s bedroom and continued where they’d left off at the Lakeside. Lan Zhan pulled back to stroke each side of his face gently, like he was holding something precious and of great value.

“Wei Ying-”

“Lan Zhan, if the next words out of your mouth aren’t “I’m going to kiss you” then just shut up and kiss me” he ordered and the other snorted and rubbed along Wei Wuxian’s lower lip with his thumb.

“Then Wei Ying, I’m going to kiss you, if you’re sure you want it”

“Kiss me”

***

Wei Wuxian woke up the next morning to blinding clarity. He was in love with Lan Zhan. How had that even happened? How could he even consider it? Being in love with Lan Zhan meant tying himself to Cultivation and he’d rather die. He slid carefully out from underneath Lan Zhan’s arm which was thrown across his waist and hurried into his clothes.

He made the mistake of glancing back at the sleeping sheriff then, refined features relaxed in sleep, dark hair start against the white pillows, and he wavered. Would it really be so bad?

He left as quietly and quickly as possible.

He kept it together until he got back to the Ranch House.

What made the panic worse was that a snowstorm was obviously approaching, the mild weather of the last few weeks had vanished. He needed to pack and get out of there before they were snowed in and he had no way out. The thought almost tipped him into a panic attack.

Jiang Yanli was there just settling Jin Ling in on the sofa as he’d come over feverish.

Once sure Jin Ling was comfortable she came through to the kitchen where Jiang Cheng tried to get him to slow his breathing and ground himself.

“What’s wrong?” she asked when he was more controlled.

“I need to go back to New York. I have to get out of here. I have to go” Spurred on he dashed upstairs.

Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng followed him up to his room, it was clearly obvious he was greatly distressed and wasn’t thinking clearly.

“I just-I need to go” Wei Wuxian dragged his case out from under the bed and began haphazardly throwing clothes into it.

“You fucked him” Jiang Cheng said in disbelief, “Oh my god, he finally got you after all these years of pining. And now you’re just running. The dude is going to be inconsolable”

“A-Cheng” Yanli admonished him sharply but Jiang Cheng was in fine form.

“Was he that bad a lay you’re having to leave town now rather than face him again?”

“Jiang Wanyin” Yanli again, bringing out the “you’re in trouble” name.

“A. He fucked me, B. It was good, C.-” he paused briefly, he didn’t really know what C was.

“So what’s wrong?” Yanli asked.

“I-” what was wrong was he’d woken up, realised he was in love with Lan Zhan and panicked because of what that meant for him. Being with Lan Zhan meant being in Cultivation, and the thought terrified him. This town had treated him like trash and spat him out once before and he didn’t know if he was strong enough to go through that again. He hugged the pair of jeans in his hands against his chest and sat down on the bed. “I realised I love him” he admitted quietly, and Yanli sat next to him and began stroking his back calmingly.

“And that scares you?” she asked gently. Wei Wuxian nodded and she made a soothing sound.

“Because it means you’d have to come back here permanently” Jiang Cheng said from where he leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

Wei Wuxian flinched at the hurt he heard in his brother’s voice. He didn’t want to do that to him. But it was the truth and he nodded again.

Then, “Does Lan Zhan really like me?”

Jiang Yanli was the one to nod then, “He’s loved you for a very long time A-Xian”

Fuck. So he’d run out this morning without saying a word or leaving a message. After sleeping with the man who’d loved him forever. And just left him.

He knew perfectly well what kind of message that would send even if it was one he hadn’t intended to, so caught up in his own panic and feelings he hadn’t even spared a thought for Lan Zhan’s.

He really had messed up spectacularly. He got up then, throwing the jeans aside and making for the door. “I need to talk to Lan Zhan” he declared and the other two followed him again.

***

Downstairs the kitchen door was swinging open in the cold wind, blowing drifts of snow onto the tile floor.

The panic hit all three of them at the same time.

“A-Ling” Yanli cried out dashing into the parlour where he’d been curled up on the sofa asleep under a warm blanket.

Of course he wasn’t there.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian moved as one to grab coats and gloves which they bundled into on the way to the door.

“Call Zixuan, and stay here in case A-Ling comes back” Jiang Cheng told Yanli who was crying and moving to collect her own coat.

“That’s my son, I’m going with you”

“Yanli, we really need you to stay here and call us if he does come back, it’s snowing out there and he’ll get cold and might head back on his own. We need you here, we’ll find him” Jiang Cheng promised rubbing her shaking shoulders.

***

“You check the barn and milking sheds” he told Jiang Cheng as they leapt off the porch and into the snow, “I’ll go to the woods and check the den”

They split off and headed in their assigned directions.

He wondered why Jin Ling had felt the need to leave the house, especially when he was sick.

He threw up a quick prayer for Jin Ling’s safety to any god listening in and doubled his pace.

Wei Wuxian felt his heart sink when he got there to no sign of his nephew, he’d almost been sure he’d be here. Where else could he have headed for?

Wait, hadn’t Jin Ling really enjoyed their fishing trip? What if he’d headed down to the lake?

Wei Wuxian began running, too aware of how dangerous it could be and what would be the consequence in the freezing cold if Jin Ling did slip into the water.

He couldn’t see anything when he got to the pier, please god let Jin Ling have gone for shelter in the ramshackle old boathouse.

His prayers were answered, and he found Jin Ling huddled in the corner inside, half asleep and rambling with fever.

“Uncle Wuxian” he managed though as Wei Wuxian took his coat off and wrapped it around Jin Ling. He checked his phone but this far out he had no signal and he’d have to get a bit closer to the house before his phone started connecting with nearby towers.

Wei Wuxian picked him up and settled him against his chest comfortably.

“Come on A-Ling, lets get you back to your Mom, she’s worried sick about you. What were you thinking?” he asked but the boy didn’t seem to hear him.

He walked out of the boathouse and into the driving snow, trying not to think about the journey back. He didn’t have any choice, he could afford to wait the snowstorm out in the boathouse but Jin Ling couldn’t; he was quite poorly.

So he set his shoulders and walked. It was so cold. But he struggled on. What would he have done if something had happened to Jin Ling? He couldn’t bear to think about it. Couldn’t bear to think about not being able to see his curious, energetic little nephew every day.

Wait.

But he was going back to New York, he wouldn’t be able to spend all that time with Jin Ling anymore, wouldn't get to see him every day, that was how it was going to have to be.

But the more he thought about it the more he knew he wouldn’t survive. Not seeing Jiang Cheng’s grumpy face hiding his careful concern? Not receiving the unconditional love and support of Jiang Yanli? Not being the person who hung the moon to Jin Ling? Even not being the stupid fool who’d had Lan Zhan’s love forever without even realising, trying to bro-zone him while Lan Zhan tried his damnedest to pursue him?

The more he considered it the more the thought of leaving all of them behind became intolerable to him.

Not that Lan Zhan would want anything to do with him after his disappearing act this morning he realised and the thought actually made him hurt.

As if summoned by Wei Wuxian’s reflections the man himself appeared out of the snowstorm.

“Wei Ying” he said and held the other upright as he stumbled, his limbs starting to go numb.

Lan Zhan had emergency blankets, one of which he wrapped around Wei Wuxian, before wrapping the other around Jin Ling as extra protection from the cold. He took him from Wei Wuxian’s arms to carry him instead. Then he wrapped an arm around Wei Wuxian and began guiding them back in the direction he’d come, reporting in on his police radio that Jin Ling was safe and he was bringing them back now.

“I didn’t want Uncle Wuxian to leave” Jin Ling exclaimed suddenly.

“I’m not Jin Ling, I’m not” but no-one seemed to pay him any attention. “Lan Zhan” Wei Wuxian wanted to tell him he was sorry. That he hadn’t known what he’d done that morning would hurt him. That he really wanted to stay. That he loved him. But Lan Zhan didn’t let him speak.

“Save your energy Wei Ying, you did well” was all he said.

***

Once back at the ranch house he and Jin Ling were stripped, wrapped in dryer-warmed terry cloth robes, and piled under hundreds of blankets. A cup of hot chocolate was pressed into his hands and he was told to sip it as soon as he could stand the temperature while Wen Qing checked over Jin Ling who Yanli hadn’t let go yet.

Lan Zhan waited for the health verdict on both of them, but as soon as he was assured Jin Ling would be fine once his fever lowered and Wei Wuxian was none the worse for wear he moved towards the door to leave.

“Lan Zhan” Wei Wuxian called urgently; he didn’t want Lan Zhan to think whatever he thought for a minute longer.

When he realised everyone was looking at him he jumped up and stumbled across the room like some crazy blanket monster from a child’s book. He tried to ignore the more icier than usual look on Lan Zhan’s face as he pulled him out of the kitchen and up to his room with a “Please just give me a little more of your time”

He realised what a miscalculation it had been to fetch Lan Zhan here when he saw his case still open on the bed.

“Its not what it looks like Lan Zhan. Actually no it is what it looks like. It was, anyway. Please let me explain” he closed the case and pushed it back under the bed so he could sit down.

“I am so sorry I ran this morning. I realise with hindsight what that might have looked like to you”

“Like your night of experimentation was done with and you didn’t want to deal with the morning after?” Lan Zhan suggested coldly.

“Experimentation? That's not it. Lan Zhan, I’ve always identified as bisexual. I’ve just never been with a guy before because I was in a long term relationship. I’d only ever been with Mian Mian before we-before last night” it was even worse than he’d suspected. “Will you please at least listen to me explain?”

Lan Zhan didn’t say no, so he took that as permission.

“I need you to know I didn’t know how you felt about me before Yanli told me this morning. And I didn’t know how I felt about you until I woke up and realised I was in love with you. And I panicked and ran away because I couldn’t process it and I was scared. I know Meng Yao told you what his father did to get rid of me, and why, and even though he’s dead now it’s hard to think of Cultivation as anything but a hell pit. Loving you would mean staying here and I was terrified at the thought”

“Wei Ying, you love me?” there was a crack in that icy facade as Lan Zhan asked him to confirm his feelings again, trembling emotion in his voice.

Wei Wuxian pressed his lips together but nodded in certainty, “Mn” he stole Lan Zhan’s sound of agreement

“Then I wouldn't care where we lived if it was with you, we could move to New York, Shanghai, anywhere in the world you wanted” Lan Zhan sat on the bed next to him and folded Wei Wuxian’s unwieldy, blanket-monster form into his arms.

“I want to stay here” he said firmly. “I thought about it a lot while I was out in the snowstorm, and I need to be near my family, including you if you’ll forgive me Lan Zhan”

“Always” he agreed, then pressed a kiss against Wei Wuxian’s lips. A drop of cold water from Wei Wuxian’s hair dripped onto his nose then, and he rose to find a towel so he could rub it dry gently. The action was soporific and Wei Wuxian struggled to stay awake.

Lan Zhan asked him softly, “How do you feel?”

He roused himself enough to answer, “If you mean about last night, then my ass hurts. If you mean about this morning, my heart hurts, I made Jin Ling run away like that with my stupid panic”

“Its not your fault Wei Ying”

Wei Wuxian didn’t agree but he didn’t really feel like arguing the point right now.

“Keep doing that Lan Zhan” he murmured instead, urging the other to run the towel over his hair again.

***

Luckily Jin Ling made a full recovery in a few days, and Yanli didn’t blame We Wuxian for making him run away.

It was the night before Christmas Eve and a town tradition to hold a night market filled with crafts and food and mulled everything.

Wei Wuxian made his way over to Lan Zhan and curled into his side, passing him one of the hot chocolates he’d bought while the other man pulled him in tighter with an arm over his shoulder.

They watched the elementary school’s choir sing for a while in the glittering lights from the giant Christmas tree in the middle of the square.

“Lan Zhan” Wei Wuxian said eventually, and the other looked at him.

“Mn?”

“Don’t you think this is all a bit cliché? Like a cheesy Christmas movie? You know, where the sassy city-slicker hero goes back to Podunk USA for Christmas and falls in love with the quiet pretty girl from High School who always secretly had a crush on him but was too shy to ever say anything?” he rubbed his chin trying to smother his laughter. He yelped and tried to get away when Lan Zhan nipped at his side in retribution.

“OK, OK. I’m sorry I’m sorry” he surrendered, but he still couldn’t stop the giggles.

Eventually Lan Zhan just turned to him and pulled him close.

“Wei Ying” he said, “shut up” and closed his lips over Wei Wuxian’s in a slow, lingering kiss that left him with no breath to laugh any more.

#mdzs fic #modern AU #wei wuxian #lan wangji #WangXian #A Very WangXian christmas #silliness #shay's stuff #mdzs #A very wangxian holidays

21 notes · View notes