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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Not So Serious

Prompt: ayoooo I’m like-obsessed with your writing style omg if your requests are open I’d love to see some good good logince hurt/comfort where Roman has a crush on Logan and gets this idea that he’s not serious enough for Logan to like him at all so Roman completely changes himself only for Logan to wonder where the man he’s in love with went.

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: logince, as on the tin

Warnings: roman’s a little bit of a self-doubting and self-depricating boi but other than that none! we are happy now!

Word Count: 5340

Roman knows he’s the least important of the Light Sides. Or at the very least, the one that Thomas listens to the least.

That’s okay.

It’s not, not really, but that doesn’t matter.

What does matter is that most of it can be chalked up to the fact that he’s the least serious Side. He’s the dreamer, the fanatic, the one whose head is permanently in the clouds. He sings, he dances, he acts, he plays. And that’s his job! He’s Creativity, for Shakespeare’s sake, and if he’s not, well, what good is he?

Well, he’s not much good when he is Creativity, but that’s beside the point.

But Thomas needs him to be serious. Patton, for all his lightheartedness, knows how to be serious when the time calls for it. And behind all those jokes and smiles and corny lines that make all of them want to cringe a little, he’s talking about, arguably, the most serious thing there is. What’s right and what’s wrong. No matter how you slice it, that’s serious. And he’s Thomas’s heart! How can you not take that seriously?

Then there’s Virgil, who Roman considers a Light Side. Virgil demands to be taken seriously. Not verbally, but come on, he’s Anxiety. Mental stuff is no joke, and they’ve had enough close calls to know that for sure. Virgil’s a snarky bastard, but he rarely says something he doesn’t actually mean. He keeps them safe when none of the others know what to do and honestly? That’s serious stuff. Virgil’s got enough on his plate.

Then there’s Logan.

Logan.

Roman could go on for days about Logan. He won’t, but he could.

Logan is Logic. Perhaps more than anything else, Thomas needs Logic. And Logan. Logan is always present, whether he’s there physically or not, and his voice is always going to be heard in the conversation sooner or later. He breaks down the biggest problems Roman’s ever seen until they’re manageable chunks, so much so that it’s ridiculous that they were ever big in the first place. He talks them through everything, slowly and surely. He makes everything look easy.

And that’s all the more impressive because Roman knows it’s not.

It’s not easy to do what Logan does. It’s not easy for Logan to always make himself heard. It’s not easy to carry the single brain cell in any given conversation.

But he does and it’s wonderful.

Logan is serious. His job is serious. That doesn’t mean he’s serious all the time, no, Roman’s seen him snap a quip faster than anything with a smirk on his face, and their bond over Crofter’s is legendary. And he knows the gleam that means Logan is immensely satisfied with whatever insult he’s come up with to shut Roman down. Even through the hurt of a new bruise forming on Thomas’s ego, he has to smile because it’s so satisfying to watch someone just be very good at something.

He’s also incredible at calming them all down. He’s so sweet and kind and gentle in all the right ways and you will never convince Roman that Logan knows nothing about emotions. Come on, he’s the most intelligent Side, that extends to emotional intelligence too. The amount of times he’s been able to rip them out of some horrible spiral with just a simple touch or a word is too high for Roman to count. And he never asks for anything, he just does it. Because he’s good like that.

Roman would be an utter, utter fool if he didn’t take Logan seriously. He doesn’t dare underestimate him, never again, not after that rap battle. He doesn’t try to speak over him, not once everyone’s actually paying attention and Logan’s clearly trying to say something. He listens, he tries, he takes him seriously.

But sometimes Logan needs to not be serious! He can see when the strain gets a little too much and he needs to cut someone down to size.

Well, here’s Roman!

And yes, it’s worth it. It’s always worth it. Logan smiles and it’s like the sun comes out. Yes, that’s a cliché but we all know clichés are cliché for a reason. Logan smiles, the sun comes out, and Roman wants to bathe in it. Wants to sit and listen to Logan talk about anything just so he’ll keep smiling, keep talking, keep being Logan. Logan is serious, but serious isn’t always Logan.

Isn’t always.

Most of the time, though…

Most of the time, it looks like Logan is thrilled to not have to stand next to Roman.

Most of the time, it seems like every time Roman opens his mouth, Logan’s trying not to roll his eyes or is just listening out of politeness. And every time he pitches an idea, it seems like Logan’s getting just as much enjoyment out of leaving the meetings as he does when he doesn’t find anything wrong with it.

Most of the time, that 0.5% hangs in the air between them like a moat.

Roman doesn’t want that. Roman doesn’t want Logan to view him as a diametrically opposed foe, he doesn’t want to be Logan’s other side of the coin, he doesn’t want Logan to think he’s only worth 0.5% of a day.

But 0.5% is all he gets if he stays Roman.

It’s not big changes, nothing that would compromise Thomas, but they’re noticeable. At least he hopes so.

He stops singing out loud in the common areas and instead has a headphone in when he wants to listen to something. He reads in the chair—sitting properly, not with his limbs haphazardly thrown about like he’s a newly made life form with no idea how muscles work—and keeps his comments to himself, written down in a notebook or in his head. He asks politely if Logan wants to come on a walk through the Imagination and conjures up something simple. A forest path, or a garden, or a small town road. None of the fantastical woods, magic castles, or treacherous mountains that he’s so fond of, because those are daydreams.

He’s quieter outside of videos. Sure, he’s still as obnoxious as ever when the cameras are on, but they tend to exaggerate themselves when they’re being filmed anyway. So it won’t be too much of a surprise when he’s not like that when the cameras are off. He doesn’t speak as much—well, he doesn’t monologue as much. He speaks when spoken to, he’s as courteous as he knows how to be, and he tries to be serious. Even if his job is anything but.

He could tell you it’s exhausting what he does for the videos and he’d rather not do it when he doesn’t have to.

He could tell you it’s because it would be better for Thomas if they all got along well.

He could tell you it’s because he wants a healthier and more productive working relationship with Logan.

He could tell you all of these things.

Whether or not you believe him is up to you.

…because Roman might be the actor, but he’s never been a particularly good liar. And deep down—not that deep down—we all know why he wants to be more serious, don’t we?

Logan doesn’t like fantasy. Logan doesn’t like excessive noise. Logan doesn’t like someone who can’t be serious.

Logan is kind and perfect and wonderful and smart and so many things.

And above all, Logan is serious.

Roman can work with that.

———————————————————————

“Hey, Specs! Do you have time to brainstorm?”

“It will have to be quick, Roman, I’ve not much time to spare.”

“Oh. That’s alright, then, we can do it later.”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course! I know how important your schedule is for you, please, don’t worry about it.”

“Ah. I see. Well, thank you, Roman.”

They never do end up having that brainstorm. Not alone.

“Logan?”

“Yes, Roman?”

“Would it be alright if I played music? I’ll keep it low.”

“…we can try, though I usually prefer working in silence.”

“Oh, in that case, I’ll just go—“

“Let’s try?”

“If you’re sure.”

Roman ends up getting his headphones after a few minutes.

“Roman?”

“Yes, my d—Logan?”

“…were you going to say something else?”

“No, no, I got lost in my head again, I thought you were…someone else.”

“It may be worth practicing getting out of your head, Roman.”

“I know.”

He never quite manages, but he’s trying.

“Ro—oh.”

“Logan? Is something wrong?”

“You’ve changed your room. Your…your paintings, your drawings, they’re…where did you put them?”

“Oh, I got rid of them.”

“Got rid of them?”

“Yes. Surely you know how difficult it can be to work in a crowded space?”

“…yes, I suppose I do.”

Logan doesn’t comment on the fact that Roman’s room isn’t quite so red anymore either.

“Roman?”

“Yes?”

“This idea, it seems…quite…realistic.”

“Is that not the point, Sp—Logan?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so.”

“Besides, from a practical standpoint, we’re operating with a limited budget here. The scope of the videos has to be adjusted accordingly.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re correct.”

Logan doesn’t mention that it doesn’t necessarily feel like Roman’s idea.

“Roman?”

“Yes?”

“Care to comment?”

“Oh, no, I’m perfectly content.”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course.”

Logan doesn’t ask again.

———————————————————————

Logan is really confused.

Something’s wrong with Roman, that much is obvious, but he can’t figure out what. Roman’s been quiet lately, outside of the videos, but even in the videos, he’s been different. He’s not talking as much anymore, not going on his incredibly passionate rants that one can feel if they just listen hard enough. He’s not risen to the bait for weeks now, preferring instead to…talk. Or listen. His room is suspiciously absent of his paintings and drawings that make Logan want to sit and stare and lose track of time.

And he’s stopped singing.

That’s a definite indicator that something’s wrong.

But he can’t figure out what.

None of them are fighting; Patton and Virgil have noticed that something is different, certainly, but they don’t know—they can’t figure out exactly what. They would have told him if they had a disagreement with Roman, but they haven’t.

Thomas isn’t being affected by it. In fact, he hasn’t noticed that anything’s wrong.

And on the surface, Roman seems fine, but Logan knows better.

He stops in front of his whiteboard, staring hard at the pieces of information he has written down.

Roman is no longer singing or playing music out loud outside of his room.

Roman is changing the ideas that he brings to the brainstorming sessions. He claims they are meant to be more ‘practical’ and easier to budget.

Roman does not insist that we spend time with him anymore.

Roman is quiet and no longer engages in ‘banter’ exchanges with me.

Roman no longer brings me to the elaborate places in the Imagination.

Roman no longer gives me nicknames.

Has…has Logan done something to Roman?

He doesn’t think he has. He hasn’t—he hasn’t shot down any ideas lately, and certainly none so much as to trigger such a drastic change. There have been no arguments. There have been no big changes for Thomas.

He finds himself twisting the cap of the marker back and forth as he focuses on the period at the end of the last sentence written. Perhaps…perhaps Roman is simply going through a rough patch? Occasionally the prince will lapse into a ‘grayer’ state, for lack of a better term, where he exhibits fewer of his energetic tendencies, but none have gone on for such a duration. Additionally, his behavior in videos has not altered as significantly as would indicate this as the cause.

Perhaps I should try to talk to him about it.

Logan nods sharply to himself and turns, walking out of his room toward Roman’s. The red door looms there, slightly ajar. Frowning, Logan raps on it gently with his knuckles.

“Roman? May I come in?”

No response.

“Roman?” Logan eases the door open. “Roman?”

No sign of Roman. The bathroom door isn’t locked, his laptop isn’t open, his phone is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Roman simply forgot to close his door all the way. Logan shuts it carefully and turns to head downstairs.

“Virgil? Patton?”

Virgil glances up from his phone. “What’s up, L?”

Ignoring the little flutter in his chest at the first nickname he’s been called in a while, Logan adjusts his glasses and glances around. “Have you seen Roman?”

Virgil shakes his head. “Pat? Have you?”

“I think he said he was going into the Imagination but he’d be back for dinner?”

Logan nods. “Thank you both.”

“Logan?”

“Yes?”

“Can you, uh—“ Patton wrings his hands for a moment— “can you ask him what’s wrong for us?”

“Princey’s been off for a while, we wanna know why but he won’t tell us.”

Logan blinks. “Considering I was on my way to ask him the same thing, I take it he’s been as…hesitant to share any information with you as he has with me?”

Their nods make something twist in his chest.

“If he’s gonna tell anyone,” Virgil mutters as he turns to go, “it’ll be you.”

Logan pauses. “Excuse me?”

Virgil shrugs. “You’re his favorite, L. He thinks the sun shines outta your face.”

Despite himself, Logan feels heat rush to his cheeks. “I’m quite sure you’re confusing me for Patton, Virgil.”

“Oh, no, Princey’s got it bad f—“

“Virgil!”

“Oh come on,” Virgil groans, his head lolling on the couch as he turns to look at Patton, “you’ve noticed it too.”

“But that’s not our secret to tell!”

“Shit. Yeah, you’re right. Oops.”

“Wait, wait,” Logan stammers, quickly trying to get a grasp of the situation, “you—Roman what?”

Virgil shakes his head. “Nope. Sorry, Logan. I already fucked up. You’re gonna have to ask him. And hey, you were on your way to do just that!”

Logan narrows his eyes but Virgil shrugs, undaunted. He turns and pointedly does not run up the stairs.

The door to the Imagination is ajar. He takes a deep breath and pushes it open, expecting to meet some fantastical landscape, a village, or a castle, perhaps.

He doesn’t expect to wander into what looks like the grand foyer of some Victorian mansion.

The door shuts behind him with a thud that echoes gently around the room. His shoes aren’t particularly loud but his steps make resounding clicks as he walks through the halls. The walls are elegantly crafted, with artful splashes of color here and there. He comes to a grand staircase and has to swallow heavily at the richness of the wood under his fingers as he climbs slowly, slowly up.

There’s something here, he decides, that’s not been here for a while. Not since he started accompanying Roman more often. He remembers the first time, where he’d wearily said he didn’t have the patience for an adventure and had been pleasantly surprised by Roman’s offer of a simple walk. Each walk after that had been lovely, truly, but it was always painfully obvious that it was in the Imagination.

Now, though? Now the walls seem to curve about Logan as he walks, like petals of a flower curve about its center. The house seems to hold him, cradle him almost as he walks slowly through it. He can almost feel a gentle hand at the base of his spine, between his shoulder blades, under his chin. It takes no effort to keep walking, to discover more and more of this truly beautiful house, to look and look and look without fear of his eyes hurting or his head growing weary.

It feels like Roman, he realizes with a giddy bubble in his chest, this is Roman’s work. Roman is here.

That realization gives him enough courage to call out.

“Roman? Roman, are you here?”

“Logan?”

“Roman!” He turns around, trying to trace the echoes to their source. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the library, keep walking toward the back of the hall.”

Logan’s steps beat out an eager pace as he begins to hurry towards Roman’s voice. He meets a wide set of mahogany doors and pushes them open, looking for—

“Oh,” he murmurs as the doors swing wide, “oh, this is…magnificent.”

If he were—well, if he were Roman, he’d compare this to the library the Beast gifts Belle. The shelves tower over his head, two full floors of books stretching out almost as far as he can see. As he looks closer, he realizes this is a theatre, with the seats replaced with shelves. At the back of the library stands the stage, converted into a seating area with as many plush couches and overstuffed armchairs as one could ever want. Curtains drape themselves across a vast window, golden sunlight streaming inside. And on the window seat, standing as the doors fly open, is Roman.

“Roman, my goodness—“

“Whoa, easy, Logan,” Roman chuckles, catching Logan carefully by the elbows as he rushes through the library, “you’ll knock yourself over at this rate.”

“This is magnificent,” Logan manages, still looking around in awe—goodness, there are some books here that he’s only seen in passing— “how—how did you do this?”

“I’ve always had it,” Roman says, guiding him to sit on the window seat and crouching in front of him, “it’s my library.”

“This—this is yours?”

Half of Roman’s mouth tugs up into that crooked smile. “Yeah, Logan. This is mine. You didn’t think I just let my books lie around, did you?”

“But you—you—you’ve never shown this to me. To anyone.”

The smile falters. “Well, no.”

Logan takes a moment to actually look at Roman. Roman quirks his eyebrow as he notices the questioning gaze. His costume is a little less pristine than normal. There’s something slightly different about his expression. And his sword is nowhere to be seen.

“May I—can I ask why not?”

Roman smiles ruefully, glancing over Logan’s shoulder before dropping his gaze to the ground.

“When I need to think,” he says after a moment, “or just…sit for a little, I come here.”

He rests his hand on the seat next to Logan.

“I sit right here, and I think. I look outside into the garden. I watch the clouds. Or I stare at the shelves, and think about the books.”

He gestures behind him.

“Sometimes I’ll see people bustling through them, or characters diving in between pages.” The smile becomes a touch more wistful. “Or I’ll hear water rushing, or wind howling.”

He looks back. Logan’s mouth drops open at the openness of Roman’s expression.

“But mostly,” he finishes in a near whisper, “I just sit. And think. Because I can.”

“…this is your space,” Logan mumbles as he puts it together, “that’s…that’s why you haven’t shown anyone.”

Roman nods.

Logan should apologize. He should apologize and leave. He should never have expected that this would be alright.

But the thought of leaving this library, this house, Roman feels…so, so heavy.

“It’s alright, Logan,” Roman says patiently, sitting on the floor, “what did you need? Am I late for dinner?”

He shakes himself, sternly reminding his brain that he’s being rude now. “No, no, nothing of the sort, I simply needed to find you.”

Roman spreads his arms wide. “Well, you found me. Congratulations.”

It’s so close to the banter Logan misses that he finds himself smiling. “Thank you. Shall I assume to claim my prize now, then?”

“Mm, and what prize would that be?”

Roman blinks up at him expectantly when he doesn’t answer right away. There are several questions on the tip of his tongue and they war with each other.

What’s wrong?

Are you alright?

Did something happen?

The others and I have noticed changes in your behavior, could you explain them?

Did I do something wrong?

Can I stay here?

What did Virgil almost tell me?

“I’ve lost something,” Logan blurts instead, swallowing the lump in his throat when Roman blinks again, startled, “and I need you to help me find it.”

“Oh. Well, that should be easy enough. Where did you last see it?”

“Wait!”

Logan catches a startled Roman by his sleeve as he’s in the middle of getting up. He sits back down slowly, still staring at Logan.

“I don’t know where I lost it,” he says, because it’s the truth. Even for all his immaculate time-keeping, he can’t pinpoint the moment he lost Roman.

“That does make it more difficult,” Roman muses, tapping his fingers on his chin, “well, can you tell me what it is? Maybe I’ve seen it.”

I’m sure you have.

Logan takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t realize it was gone, at first,” he begins, “only that it—something changed. It was quieter. Rooms felt less…I believe ‘alive’ is the only word I can use to adequately describe it.”

Roman catches on to the fact he’s speaking about something abstract quickly. Though, of course he did, he’s very intelligent. He sits up a little straighter and takes Logan’s hand in both of his. That in itself is enough to make Logan swallow again.

“It was more difficult to continue working,” he says after a moment, looking at the ground, “because I didn’t know what was missing. I didn’t know whether the fault lay with myself or with Thomas or how to go about fixing it. I couldn’t think of anything.”

Roman makes a noise of sympathy, squeezing Logan’s hand.

“Of course, once I realized it was missing, I did all I could to find it.” He adjusts his glasses. “I gathered all the information I could to see what had gone wrong.”

“And,” Roman prompts gently, “what did you find?”

“It’s not in my room. It’s not in the kitchen. It’s not in the Imagination, or at least it wasn’t when I was there.”

Logan closes his eyes.

“It doesn’t make me fight back a smile every time I see it, because I am only concerned. It doesn’t make me look forward to seeing it, because it doesn’t seem to be happy to see me. It doesn’t make me want to say how important it is to me, because it doesn’t—“

“…doesn’t what, Logan?”

“…it doesn’t even give me a nickname anymore.”

Roman freezes.

Logan opens his eyes and looks at Roman, seeing his face turn pale.

“I’ve lost the one I love,” he confesses, “and I don’t know where he’s gone.”

———————————————————————

Roman’s heart stops.

Logan—Logan—L—

Logan loves him?

“Please,” Logan says in that soft, soft voice that makes Roman want to combust, “can you help me find him?”

“Wait, wait, Logan, you—you what?”

Logan shifts forward, cupping Roman’s hand. “Where did you go, Roman? Something happened, you left.”

“N-no, Logan, I didn’t go anywhere.”

“You did,” he corrects, “you…you’ve been different. You’ve been quieter, you haven’t taken me on any adventures—“

“I’ve taken you into the Imagination!”

“—and you stopped singing,” Logan finishes. Roman’s chest throbs with the way Logan’s voice cracks on the last word. “You left, Roman, where did you go?”

“I—I was trying to—to—“ Roman swallows heavily. “Wait, you love me?”

Logan blinks, tilting his head. “Of course, yes, I love you, Roman.”

Roman’s face flares. “You can’t—you can’t just say that, Logan.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll believe you. I’ll—“ the urge to bury his face in his hands burns but he can’t, can’t pull away from Logan—“I’ll believe you.”

Logan hums. “And why shouldn’t you believe me?”

An incredulous laugh forces its way out of his throat. “Because you can’t love me.”

He slams his eyes shut as Logan starts to move away. He’s ruined it. He’s ruined so much of his hard work. He’s destroyed it. He’s hurt Logan. How could he?

“And why can’t I love you, Roman?”

He laughs again, though this one might be technically considered a sob. “Because I’m loud! I’m obnoxious, I want to spend all my time daydreaming, I’m so out of touch with the real world, I never want to be serious, I’m—I’m—“

“Passionate,” Logan interrupts quietly, something still cupping his hand, “optimistic. Hardworking.”

Roman huffs. “That’s not special.”

“Intelligent.”

Now he does laugh. “Not compared to you.”

Logan’s stifled noise is enough to make him open his eyes. He frowns up at Logan. He looks…heartbroken.

“Roman,” he murmurs, “do you honestly believe that?”

He squirms uncomfortably on the floor. “…it’s not like it isn’t obvious. El principe es estupido.”

“It’s far from obvious, Roman,” Logan insists, “why do you think I enjoy our verbal sparring so much?”

“You what?”

“I respect and admire your intelligence. You’re—well, not to insult the others when they’re not here to defend themselves, but you’re the only one who really keeps up with me.” Logan smiles at him. He smiles at him. “And you’re kind, Roman. Relentlessly so, sometimes.”

Roman can only gape at him.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed everything you do,” Logan chides gently, “I do notice. And I am so thankful for it. But this…” He gives Roman’s hand another squeeze. “This I don’t understand. Where did you go, Roman?”

“I—I…” Roman swallows. “I thought I was doing it for you.”

“For me?”

“Y-you like serious things! You don’t want to be seen as a joke and I’ve never seen you as a joke, Logan, you have to believe me, and I thought that—that I—“

“Roman—“

“I make fun of the things I love, Logan!” Roman’s throat almost aches from the strain of saying it out loud. “And you—you don’t like it when we’re not serious and I’m not serious so I—I thought if I—if—if—“

“You changed so I would…love you?”

Roman shakes his head shamefully. “So you would tolerate me.”

“Oh, little star—“

Roman lets out an oof as Logan tugs him forward, his knees hitting the ground roughly as he pulls Roman into a hug. He’s warm, he’s so warm and so Logan…the frames of his glasses are cool against the side of Roman’s face, the knot of his tie pressing into the hollow of his chest. And he’s being so sweet, so tender as he holds Roman on the floor of the library.

Roman clutches him back. It’s been agony, not being able to touch him, not even the barest brush of shoulders or knocking their elbows together. But now Logan is here and he can have this.

“I don’t want serious,” he hears Logan murmur, “not from you. Alright, sometimes, yes, I want you to listen but never to be that serious. You’re—you’re you, Roman. That’s what I want.”

Oh.

He laughs as the tears start to fall onto Logan’s collar. “You found me, Logan.”

Logan just gives him a squeeze. “I did, little star.”

Oh, Roman was not prepared for that. Instead, he can hear Logan chuckle as he tenses for a moment.

“No?”

“Yes,” Roman blurts out quickly, fumbling with his clumsy tongue, “yes. So much yes.”

“Yes, it is then, little star.”

He hums contentedly, burying his nose in the crook of Logan’s neck. “You found me,” he whispers, rocking them back and forth, “and I found you.”

“Yes, little star, you found me.” Logan pulls back to cup his face, a comforting noise escaping him at the evidence of drying tears. “And now…please, don’t leave me?”

“Never, Logan,” he swears, “never again.”

He gets to see that wonderful soft glow on Logan’s face for a moment longer before that gleam—oh, that wonderful gleam—comes back as he arches an eyebrow.

“No? Then why am I still ‘Logan?’”

Oh. So that’s how this is going to go, hmm? Roman lets a little more darkness slip into his smirk than he normally would. It only grows wider as Logan looks a little surprised.

“My dearest darling nerd,” he purrs, “if you wanted me to lavish you with pet names, you know you need only ask.”

“That is not what I meant,” Logan says firmly, undone a little by the blush now fanning his cheeks.

Roman chuckles. “Oh, what’s wrong, my sweet little pi, is this not what you wanted?”

“R-Roman!”

“Goodness, Logan, your face is so warm.” Roman’s arms come up to hug him as he buries his face in his neck. “What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

“You’re one to talk,” comes the slightly muffled reply, “you were blushing from my pet name too.”

“Ah, yes, how could I forget? ‘Little star,’ well…” Roman cups the back of Logan’s neck and brings that darling face back out to smile at. “If I’m the star, then you must be the whole galaxy.”

Logan tries to frown. Bless him, he tries, but he’s so flustered that it turns into this adorable pout as he leans back to get up.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Roman chuckles, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around him, “you stay right here in my lap.”

“Roman!”

“What?” He tilts his head. “Can you think of anywhere better to be than right here, in my lap…with me?”

He can’t help the note of vulnerability that slips in at the end. Maybe Logan doesn’t want this, maybe he is too much, maybe he just ruined it…

“No,” Logan murmurs after a moment, “I guess I can’t.”

And really, it is marvelous, there on the floor, golden sunlight streaming over them, in the library, surrounded by the quiet shelves and safe hallways of the house.

———————————————————————

“I have to ask,” Roman says, giving Logan a little shake after a moment, “how did you…?”

“Find out?”

“Mm.”

“Well…” Logan toys with Roman’s collar. “I was coming to ask you about it anyway, but Virgil—“

“Virgil?” Roman raises an eyebrow. “He said something now, did he?”

Logan squints at him. “…why do I have a feeling there’s more to this than you’re telling me?”

Roman shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter, not really.”

“Now that I don’t believe for an instant.”

“It got me my Logan,” Roman says softly, leaning forward to rub their noses together, “didn’t it?”

“…well yes, I suppose it did.”

Roman hums contentedly, cuddling into Logan like a lazy cat, sprawled out in the sunlight to nuzzle its kitten. A…surprisingly sweet image. The Imagination—Roman’s Imagination must be affecting him.

There are worse fates.

“But I can’t imagine,” he says after a moment, “that a prince such as yourself can allow such a slight?”

The grin on Roman’s face is priceless.

“Virgil,” Roman sings as they fling open the door to the rest of the Mindscape, and goodness Logan can’t tell you how much he’s missed that voice— “I have a question for you!”

Logan hears muffled cursing coming from the living room.

“What’s up, Princey?”

“Well our dearest Specs here just told me something very interesting—“ he winks at Logan— “and I would love to hear your side of the story.”

“Oh, uh, really? Well, that’s cool. On an unrelated note, I’m gonna be in my room for the foreseeable future.”

“Hmmm…not if I get there before you!”

“Shit!”

“My darling,” Roman says softly, pressing a kiss to the back of Logan’s hand, “will you excuse me one moment, please?”

And what is Logan supposed to do but agree? Roman is back.

“I’ll be with you shortly.”

Roman tears off down the hallway after Virgil, their shouts filling the Mindscape once more.

General Taglist:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @theaceofcrows @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner

#sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #virgil sanders #dragonbabbles #fic #logince

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sgwrscrsh · 3 years

Text

winter days: underneath the tree

☁️a/n☁️ this made my heart very warm to write even though i pulled an all-nighter to get it done because my time-management has gone to shit after finals. requested by @sachirou-senpai. thank you, ellie, for giving me a reason to bring back my boys. i’ve missed ‘summer on you’ so much. this can be read as a stand-alone or as a spin off of ending b, my fave. either way, merry christmas to my babes who celebrate! i have one more christmas fic for tmr and then i’m hiding away to plan + write an smau.

includes: female!reader, poly!seijoh four, post-timeskip (very minor manga spoilers), lots of domesticity, a little suggestive bit, a lot of eating and sleeping now that i realize, a christmas tree, matching pajamas, a very special christmas gift, makki slapping your ass once, a lil teary moment w tooru, homemade curry + pancakes (but not together), lots of cuddling, lots of love, happy holidays, 4.35k words

☁️masterlist☁️

shivering slightly, you unlock the door to the rather spacious apartment you shared with your four boyfriends later into the evening than you would’ve liked.

yes, four boyfriends. whom you love very much and are loved by in return.

living with four towering hunks has it’s ups and downs, but you wouldn’t trade tooru’s extensive skin care regiment sprawled across the bathroom counter; hajime’s bag of protein powder that he always forgets to put away; issei’s boots that you always tripped over when you came through the front door; or takahiro’s costco-sized box of cream puffs in the freezer that he insisted he would finish by the end of the month, almost half a year ago, for the world.

you made sure to stomp off the snow stuck on your boots before entering the building, but you couldn’t help but sigh at the warmth that greets you once you toe them off.

“ahhh,” you think. “thank goodness tooru convinced us to invest in heated floors.” another perk of having four boyfriends was that two of them brought in enough bank for you to seriously consider becoming their cute little housewife. snorting, you shake your head, though the idea of prancing around in a maid outfit to tease them seemed very appealing. “maybe we should make hiro dress up and clean the house since he still hasn’t found a new job yet.”

“what’s so funny, sweets?” speak of the devil. makki’s head pops out from the bathroom nearest to the front door, steam rolling out and droplets falling from his hair, signifying that he had just taken a hot shower. wordlessly, you stare at him, lost in thought imagining the water caressing his toned body, but a second later, he gets a better look at you and laughs. “you look like a wet dog!” your glare loses some of its edge when he takes in your own damp strands.

“did someone say something about a dog?” tooru comes bounding round the corner, and you could’ve sworn he drooped a little when he realized it was just you in the hallway sans dog. turning your icy glance on the setter, you open your mouth to complain about how mean the two of them were being to you when your prince charming comes in to save the day.

“you two, stop bullying the poor girl and let her take a warm bath before she gets sick!” iwa chides as he helps you unbundle the layers that protected you from the snow and sharp winds of the winter. pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead and promising to pick out comfy clothes for you, he ushers you into your spacious en suite where a steaming tub full of rose petals awaits you. hajime chuckles at the starry eyes you give him, heart warming at the love and appreciation shining clear as day on your face, before he leaves to grab a clean pair of underwear, one of issei’s t-shirts, and a pair of his own sweats, knowing you much prefer to wear their clothes at home.

submerged in the bath, you exhale contentedly, eyelids fluttering shut as you enjoy the product of iwa’s consideration and foresight. letting the stress of work and the chill of the outdoors melt from you, you stay in the water until it cools and your fingers prune. a lone thought of how much more you would’ve enjoyed the bath if the boys had joined you flits through your mind, but you jolt when you open your eyes and find issei sitting on the counter with a towel and your robe in his lap, some of the water sloshing over the side of the tub.

“oh thank god, i was scared you fell asleep and would drown or choke on a rose petal.” you giggle while he wraps you up in your robe before gently toweling your hair dry. “you can’t leave me to deal with the three of them alone.”

rolling your eyes, you retort easily, “if anything, i’d feel bad about leaving hajime to deal with the three of you alone. the poor man puts up with enough from his team, he doesn’t need you guys ganging up on him, too.”

“well i’ll have you know, sometimes he really enjoys us ganging up on him.” his cheeky quip paired with his wiggling eyebrows earns him a smack on the chest but regardless, you let him sweep you up into his arms and drop you on the massive bed the five of you shared. “get dressed, babygirl. as much as i’d love to spend more time with you naked, i gotta help haji finish dinner.” with a quick peck on your lips, issei leaves you to do just as he said.

emerging revitalized and relaxed, your mouth waters at the smell of homemade curry, distracted enough to not notice tooru’s arms wrapping around your shoulders and waist.

“hey, cutie, i’ve missed you,” he sings, face snuggled into the junction of your shoulder and neck. you spin around in his hold to slip your arms around his slim torso, relishing his firm lines against your soft curves.

“‘ve missed you too, tooru.” and you really did, grateful that all of you were able to take time off work and he was able to come home a week before the holidays, giving the five of you a whole month to spend together before he had to jet back to argentina for his next bout of training and practice games.

“hell yea! group hug!” makki comes running towards you guys, only for you to twist out of his reach at the last second, sending him straight into the sofa behind you. “oof, that was cold, y/n.”

you stick your tongue out at the strawberry boy. “yea, well that’s what you get for laughing at me when i got home. sucker.” still entangled in tooru’s embrace, you feel his body shake with mirth and bite the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from dissolving into giggles when you see a pout take over hiro’s pretty face.

“dinner’s ready,” comes iwa’s call, beckoning the three of you into the kitchen before you could antagonize each other some more. once you all got your servings of curry, you settle into your proclaimed seats on the large sofa, your body comically small compared to their tall frames dwarfing the cushions. noting the way tooru threw his long legs over iwa’s and how mattsun and makki leaned against each other as they ate, you fold your legs to tuck your feet under takahiro’s thigh and dig in to your meal with some trashy reality show lighting up the tv screen, completely certain that the warmth in your chest was from the company of your loved ones more so than the piping hot potatoes in your stomach.

during breakfast the next day, you blearily rub the sleep out of your eyes before taking a sip of your coffee, a satisfied “ahhh” escaping your parted lips as you lean against the kitchen counter. slowly peeling your eyelids open, you notice all of their gazes were focused on you. “yes? can i help you?” you ask amusedly, awake now that caffeine had be introduced to your tired body.

“how are you still so gorgeous in the morning?” you blink at the dreamy look on iwa’s face propped up in his hands with his elbows on the surface of the island. looking around, you see the other three matching the athletic trainer’s pose and expression next to him. thinking over your messy bedhead, mysteriously stained pajamas, and almost impressively dark eyebags, you want to scoff, but the unfairly handsome men giving you their undivided attention despite all of that (“because of all of that, y/n-chan,” tooru would argue) make you blush instead.

“you’re one to talk, haji,” you opt to remark, hoping to divert their focus from you and your rosy cheeks. “and don’t look at me like that,” your pointed finger swinging wildly between the four of them like the needle of a compass. “you already know you guys are way outta my league, you don’t need me to tell you that.” with one last flourish, you wave your hand dismissively before grabbing your mug with both hands, palms warming against the ceramic.

“as wrong as you are, you can’t blame us for wanting to hear the love of our lives compliment us first thing in the morning as we admire her natural beauty,” mattsun grins once he sees the success his words have at deepening the flush on your face. tooru nods gravely in agreement, but it’s makki’s one-two combo of a wink and an air kiss that breaks you. you roll your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle a laugh but release it immediately when the playful atmosphere takes a heady turn. clearing your throat, you pay no heed to their hungry expressions, knowing full well that they all noticed your little action and how they would react to it.

“a-anyways,” you stutter, “i’m gonna go get ready ‘cause i have things to do today so-” you try to slip by, leaving your empty cup in the sink, only to get caught in your tracks by hiro’s long arms.

“ah, ah, ah, princess. and where do you think you’re going?” soon enough, you find yourself surrounded by your smoking hot boyfriends and heat up in anticipation of their next moves.

“this so isn’t fair,” you complain aloud, though you were just as eager as they were to get you out of your worn sleep clothes.

“tough shit, babygirl. guess you’re just gonna have to add four more things to your to-do list, huh?”

naturally, you leave your errands for some day later in the week when you’re able to walk properly again.

the opportunity comes when you rise earlier than the rest of them, a rare occasion where you found yourself graced with the freedom of sleeping on the outside instead of being sandwiched in the middle of the bed. tiptoeing about, you brush your teeth and get dressed, somehow managing to not wake any of the sleeping beauties. you scribble little love-filled messages on post-it notes and stick them around your apartment on your way out, but not without one last soft smile in the direction of the bedroom, the sight of the four of them cuddled together through the door left ajar renewing your motivation to accomplish your tasks and come home sooner.

with your laptop bag in tow, you set out for your first destination, settling into a corner booth at the coffee shop with a full cup and a pastry. once you finish your breakfast, you pull out your laptop and get to work, scouring the internet for the perfect gifts for your lovably imperfect partners. you rack your brain for any recollection of any moment where they would’ve let a potential present slip into conversation and light up when you come across volleyball print pajama pants. you check the availability of the sizes you needed and upon realizing that they were all in stock and would be delivered before christmas, you place your order without a moment’s hesitation. satisfied with your progress, you pull up the animal shelter’s hours before heading out of the cafe, the barista’s greetings and the jingling bells echoing behind you.

by the time you return home, it’s late in the afternoon and you’re greeted by a wall of warm bodies as soon as you step through the front door.

“where’ve you been, babe?” once again, takahiro is the first to meet your return, but this time he plants a sweet kiss on your lips with his long fingers encircling your waist after his inquiry.

“oh, you know,” you sigh, dazed from the saccharine embrace. “out and about.”

“busy day? hope it was productive.” you nuzzle into tooru’s chest, feeling the timbre of his voice through your skin, and nod.

“as a matter of fact, it was.” their eyes soften at the proud grin stretched across your face. but your grumbling stomach just had to ruin the moment, making the three of you stare at each other before bursting out in chuckles.

“you skipped lunch?” oiks asks, wrapping each arm around yours and hiro’s waists and guiding you into the kitchen. you rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

“i guess so? i didn’t really notice i was hungry until now.”

“good thing we saved your favorite from that chinese place down the street for you,” mattsun comes up behind you and lands a kiss on the crown of your head. you beam gratefully up at him and skip over to the fridge to retrieve the takeout.

“welcome home, love,” iwaizumi emerges from the bathroom to complete the set and gives you a once over. “you look tired.”

“gee thanks, hajime.” he rolls his eyes playfully at you while you wait for your food to heat up in the microwave.

“what time did you get up this morning?”

“uhhh,” you start, mouth full. at iwa’s stern glare, you swallow before answering, “seven-ish? earlier than i would’ve like for a vacation day but it was worth it.”

“hm, well i’m glad you had a good day at least.” you shuffle over to kiss his cheek before dropping yourself on top of where tooru and hiro were cuddling on the sofa, eyes drifting around the room to take in the holiday decorations adorning the space.

“thanks, haji. but you’re right, i am sleepy.” suppressing a yawn, you lean back against the broad chests behind you and tuck back into the paper container. “can we take a nap once i’m done?”

“sure thing, babygirl.” the innocent smile mattsun sends your way turns mischievous with his added comment. “we really tuckered ourselves out while you were gone.” you nearly choke but makki’s hand thumping your back helps you dislodge whatever food got caught in your throat. iwa shakes his head and looks to the side in an attempt to hide his face, but the reddening tips of his ears give him away. meanwhile, oikawa catches your eye and winks.

“how else did you suppose we keep ourselves occupied when our baby wasn’t home?” you get up to toss your now empty container, shaking your head as you go.

“i’m glad to see you at least got the christmas tree up before going at it. god, you’re all insatiable.”

“i mean, it’s hard not to be in this relationship,” hajime grumbles.

“aww, iwa,” makki pushes his lips into an overexaggerated pout. “you make me hard, too.” full-bellied chortles escape the four of you, ignoring iwaizumi’s indignant huffs.

“whatever,” comes his miffed reply, but you know he takes all your antics in stride. soon enough, he returns to the living room with a stack of blankets and finds you and issei added to the pile of limbs tooru and hiro founded. somehow, hajime situates himself to fit perfectly in your cuddle fest, blankets sprawled about to keep you warm.

one last yawn leaves your mouth before you mutter a sleepy, “night, guys. love you,” barely registering the quiet “love you”s you get in return as you drift off, the lights adorning your christmas tree twinkling above you.

christmas day, you wake up before the others again, this time more than willing to feign sleep and revel in the warmth of your shared bed. luckily, you don’t have to wait long for your boys to stir. sitting up, you stretch your arms above you head and begin to climb out of bed only to be caught by the wrist and dragged back down.

“haji, please,” you draw out. “we can finally open the presents under the tree!”

“i don’t care, it’s too early for you to leave me, princess.” you hum as he pulls you closer to him, revisiting your mental note that iwa is much more openly (and selfishly) affectionate in the mornings.

“oi, the rest of us are still here you know.” face buried against tooru’s back, mattsun’s muffled complaint gets hajime to loosen his hold on you.

“yea, yea,” he props himself up on his elbow to lean over you and kisses the former middle blocker’s temple. “unfortunately.”

“so mean, iwa-chan,” oikawa pipes up, stretching his arm across you to caress your boyfriend’s toned arm before lacing his fingers with makki’s. the pink haired man himself, still half-asleep, squeezes tooru’s hand before sitting up.

“hey, wait. it’s christmas, isn’t it?” takahiro’s question reminds you of the package you received a couple days prior, prompting you to spring out of bed before one of them could reel you back in. the four watch you rifle through the closet and resurface with the pajama pants you ordered.

“merry christmas!” you cry excitedly, tossing each boy their respective pair and eagerly awaiting their reactions. “they’re matching pj’s! look, i got one for myself, too.” thankful that you chose to go to bed in just one of iwa’s godzilla t-shirts and underwear last night, you rush to slip on your volleyball print pants. the boys take in your childlike joy, chests tightening at how precious you are. “hurry up, i want you to try them on so we can match!” at your insistence, they roll out of bed and dutifully don your gifts.

“oh these are actually really soft,” tooru murmurs thoughtfully, fingering the fabric on his thigh.

“right?” you pipe up, nearly bouncing off the walls. “i wanted to do something to commemorate our first christmas together in this apartment and i thought these were really cute since volleyball is what brought us together in the first place.” eyes meet each other as you all reminisce that special summer, grateful that you stayed close despite your individual journeys after graduation.

suddenly, the doorbell ringing catches your attention. a brief glance at the clock on the bedside table tells you it’s much later in the morning than you though, but you’re quick to answer the door.

“who could that be?” the boys are left wondering, wandering out into the living room in time to see you wave goodbye to whoever it was with a large gift-wrapped box sitting on the floor next to you.

“babe? who was it?” tooru is the first to ask the question on all of their minds.

“oh, just my best friend. they wanted to drop this off on their way to their parents’ house.” you gingerly pick up the box and bring it to where your boys were waiting for you. “go ahead!”

“go ahead?” hajime parrots.

“yea! open it!”

“it’s not for you?” takahiro ponders.

“well yes and no. c’mon just open it already!” you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet at this point. tooru finally takes the initiative to remove the lid of the box, eyes widening when he sees what it hid.

“oh my gosh,” he breathes. the other three nearly knock heads with how quickly they lean over the opening.

“is that-?” a furry little head pops up over the edge of the box, round eyes peering up at the four of them.

“a dog! yes!” you squeal. “he’s a shelter dog!”

“he is?” hiro is in awe, slowly reaching out to cradle the little guy in his arms.

“i met him the other day when i woke up early and ran errands without you guys. isn’t he just the cutest?” big hands dwarf the small pooch as they gently pet his head and stroke his fur.

“does he have a name?” tooru has the good sense to ask.

“mhm, the lady at the shelter said his previous owner named him ponyo.”

“ponyo…” issei whispered, eyes shining.

“i know we’re nowhere near ready to start thinking about kids,” you start, the topic of the conversation instantly drawing their attention. tooru even ignored ponyo’s little tongue lapping at his fingers. “but i thought we could use an addition to our family.”

“y/n, princess, we obviously all love him already, but we’re busy with work- well, most of us are. who’s gonna take care of him?” hajime questions, almost reluctantly.

“i mean, hiro is home all the time since he’s still unemployed (“i said i was looking, damn!”), but i actually got promoted so my schedule is way more flexible and i can work from home most of the time.” your voice trails off bashfully, but they give you no time to be embarrassed, swallowing you up in a huge hug.

“why didn’t you say anything sooner, baby? we’re so proud of you!” now you know how the dog felt being smothered by their affection, not that it was anything new for you.

“uhh, surprise?”

“fuck yea, surprise! god, you’re incredible. lemme make a list of things we’ll need to get for ponyo once the stores reopen tomorrow.”

“actually…”

“you didn’t.”

“i did, with help from my best friend.” going into the lowest cupboards in the kitchen, you show off the bag of dog food and water and food bowls you bought soon after visiting the shelter. “his bed and crate are in the other closet by the washroom.”

“how did we get so lucky?” takahiro asks aloud, making you blush as the others nod in sync, all of them blown away by your thoughtfulness.

“this is nothing. i just wanted to show you guys how much i love you.” you play with your fingers, a little overwhelmed now that the initial excitement has worn off. “oh wait!”

“there’s more?” tooru asks, shocked.

“but wait, there’s more!” mattsun and makki chime in simultaneously, making you laugh as you retrieve the last present. you hop over to where tooru was sitting on the sofa with ponyo on his lap, scooping the dog up and locking the two of you in the bathroom. a couple minutes later, you open the door to let ponyo scurry over to his dads, who coo softly once they see him come around the sofa.

“when did you have time to do this?”

“my pants were a little long, so i hemmed them one night after you guys passed out on the sofa watching your old volleyball matches. i kinda guessed ponyo’s measurements based on standard info i found on the internet, but it fits perfectly so i’m glad!” looking at the little sweater you made for your new family member out of the extra fabric from your pj pants, you couldn’t stop the pleased grin that broke out on your face. “now even ponyo matches with us!”

while your gaze was trained on the tiny dog that was exploring his new home, theirs were stuck on you, your resemblance with a proud mother struck something in them, giving them thoughts of you with their children. yes, children. but for now they shoved those images to the backs of their minds, meeting each other’s stares to confirm they were all in silent agreement.

“we’re gonna make breakfast, you just sit there ‘n look pretty while you watch ponyo, yea?” issei announces before pulling you into a searing kiss as he walks by.

“not that that’s hard for you,” iwa tags on, kissing your cheek and ruffling your hair following mattsun into the kitchen.

“but i’m always hard for you.” you yelp when hiro playfully slaps your ass, flipping him off as he trails after the other two with a loud hoot. tooru comes up behind you and rubs your sore cheek, spinning you around so that you were face to face.

“why’d you do this to me, y/n-chan?” you meet his frown with a confused look of your own. “now it’s gonna be even harder for me to go back to argentina.”

“oh, tooru,” you wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes to bring him close. “you have the next few weeks to spend with us and our new baby.” as if he knew you were talking about him, ponyo pads over to sit by your feet, tail wagging. oikawa sighs melodramatically.

“a few weeks is nothing compared to the months i’ll be gone!”

“oi, shittykawa, you better not be complaining after everything this morning,” hajime hollers from the kitchen.

“love you, too, iwa-chan!” tooru calls back instinctively then he looks back down at you, his eyes giving away how much leaving will hurt him and it nearly makes you tear up with him.

“tooru, baby, it sucks every time you leave us, but you’re following your dreams and doing what you love. and we want to support you all the way, even if it means doing so from across the world. but with my new work schedule, i’ll be able to call or text you pretty much whenever. and just think how much sweeter it’ll be the next time you do come home to us. so don’t be too sad, okay, my love? we’ll all be here waiting for you.”

as the last words leave your lips, tooru has you pulled flush against him, arms wrapped tight around your body. his face was hidden, but you could feel the sobs in hot breaths against your shoulder. you guided him over to the sofa and let him cry, petting his hair and peppering kisses on his tear-streaked face until he tired himself out.

issei, hajime, and takahiro come out of the kitchen with stacks of pancakes and all the fixings, setting them down on the coffee table in front of you once they see tooru snoozing in your lap. iwa picks ponyo up before he could get a bite of your breakfast while you gently shake your boyfriend awake. mattsun and makki set up ponyo’s crate and bedding, leaving him with a toy to keep him occupied while the five of you filled up your plates.

sitting in the living room of the apartment you shared with your four boyfriends on christmas day, stuffing your face with fruit and whipped cream topped pancakes that they made, in matching pajamas with your new rescue dog scampering about, you couldn’t ask for a better gift underneath the tree.

taglist: @lovemeafterhrs @sachirou-senpai @honey-makki @kenmaki

#skye writes fluff #seijoh four #seijoh third years #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #matsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu poly #haikyuu post time skip #skye writes a series #summer on you: the series

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rpd-rookie · 4 years

Text

Do You Know Your Alphabet?

NSFW Edition feat Leon S. Kennedy

(I tried not to give a sexual orientation to Leon in this alphabet and make his partner as genderless as possible. However some parts remain rather M/F. Sorry about that. I hope you’ll like it anyway)

A – Anal: Leon tried anal when he was in his mid twenties because his partner wanted to know how it felt like. Before that, he had never felt the need to fuck someone in the ass, finding the act rather gross considering the main use of the anus. His first time wasn’t a very satisfying experience because he ended up hurting his SO, an expected result when you don’t really know what you’re doing. But he gave it another shot some time later and actually found some pleasure in it. However anal remains something pretty rare for him. He only does it when he is asked to and really wants to.

B – Bondage: Most of the time it’s a no. Leon doesn’t really like to be tied up and he is not the kind of man that finds pleasure in putting rope (or anything else) around his partner’s wrists or feet. He’s a touch-starved person. He wants his partner’s wandering hands to roam over his body as much as he wants to touch every curve of theirs. No way he has sex without being able to use his hands. That would be really frustrating. The only person that managed to tie him up to a bed was Ada using her garter belt. He ended up liking the sex a lot (not gonna lie) but he nevertheless kept a certain bittersweet memory. He wished he would have been able to use his hands more.

C- Cumming: When he was young, Leon used to ejaculate in a condom because that’s what he had always been told to do. His parents had given him the talk on how important it was to use protection when he was 16. But when he discovered the satisfaction of cumming on his partner’s body it was ‘bye bye condom’ and ‘hello cum shot’. The man loves seeing his sperm spurt on his partner’s stomach and chest or on their ass and back more than he likes creampies, which is understandable since he refuses to take the risk to have children. Occasionally, he will allow himself to cum inside if he’s certain it’s safe but just for the pleasure to see his cum oozing out of his partner. Also, he doesn’t like cumming in his SO’s mouth that much but it can happen after a good blowjob.

D- Dominance: Leon is neither dominant nor submissive. He constantly adapts himself to his mood and to his partner’s wishes. If they feel like they want it rough, he’ll give it rough and won’t hesitate to fuck his lover until their body aches. But if they want it soft, he’ll be as sweet as possible, kissing and caressing every parcel of skin he can. His adaptability and compliance is what makes him an amazing lover, among some other things.

E- Erection: Young Leon was very sensitive. He could have an erection in a heartbeat. All he needed was to catch a sensual glimpse of skin or being kissed and touched. Older Leon needs more warm up. He knows how to control his body. Nudity doesn’t turn him on that much now or at least he can resist it and he doesn’t get hard with a simple hand caressing his chest. No, the man needs his cock to be groped and played with. But once it’s hard, it stays hard until the thing is done.

F- Foreplay: Leon is not the king of foreplay and he never truly was. When he was young and poorly experimented, he limited foreplay to the same three things: grinding, kissing and fingering (nipples? What is that?). But the last was often poorly executed and the other two were not that arousing, let’s face it. With time, he however learned to fully satisfy his partners in that category, finally getting how the anatomy really works. But he was never the kind of men that thrived in foreplay, preferring the real action and his cock deep in his partner’s hole instead of his fingers. Now that he is older, Leon is even lazier and foreplay with him is quick, even too quick. Moreover, if he can, he will choose to simply lube his shaft with his spit and shove it deep in his lover after some quick make out. You better not take too much time to warm up with that man.

G- Gangbang: No fucking way! Leon doesn’t share and he doesn’t like being neglected. He needs to be the centre of attention during sex. No way he will allow another man to touch his partner or even just watch. Sex is for two and two only. However, he had a couple of threesomes when he was younger, single and eager to explore his sexuality. Each time it was with two girls for the reasons mentioned above. What nights!

H- Hand job: Just like his lips, hands are a must-use for Leon. No way he keeps his hands to himself. He always feels like he must let his expert fingers venture on his partner’s body. He loves touching, feeling, grabbing and groping and he will definitely explore his partner’s lower area and give them some pleasure there using all the dexterity he gained throughout the years and the sexual experiences he had. However, despite being amazing, Leon’s hand jobs are unfortunately really quick and that can leave his partners rather dissatisfied. He often does them during foreplay but if he can avoid it or make it quick, he will. He is not a fan of being jerked off either, finding a hand too dry to truly please him.

I- Intimacy: Sex is very intimate for Leon. He won’t allow any spectator and he likes having it at home. But that doesn’t mean he will limit himself to the bedroom. No, Leon will fuck you in every corner of every room of the house if he can. Kitchen, living room, bathroom, personal gym, even in his office. Speaking of office, he has to admit he had quite a few quickies in the one he’s got at the DSO (the problem when you have cute interns) But when Leon has sex in public places it’s always somewhere where he is sure the chances of being caught, heard or seen are small. So if you want to be fucked in his luxury car, make sure you are parked somewhere quiet and remote.

J- Jerking off: Leon doesn’t jerk off. He never feels the need to and he rarely gets horny to a point he must masturbate. The last time he jerked off on a regular basis was when he was a teenager browsing through his mother’s lingerie catalogues because he was too scared to buy porn magazine. Ever since then, when he feels too horny (which I repeat is rare), he simply calls someone to give him a hand … or something else.

K – Kink: Leon doesn’t have kinks or fetishes. He is not really into dirty talking nor does he like being called ‘daddy’. Bondage is not is thing either (as said earlier) and role-play feels weird to him. He is actually a simple man. Of course, they are some body parts that he loves better than others but Leon won’t be the kind of men to be turned on by feet or hands. The closest things to fetishes for Leon are a) his love for lingerie. He finds it really sexy when his partner shows up wearing some fancy lace underwear. Often, he would choose to keep them on. b) his love for beautiful soft hair as he often brushes his partner’s hair, tangle his fingers in it or pulls it (not a surprise for a man with a mane like his). But again, he doesn’t get a hard on the second he sees a bra or touches a strand of hair, so they cannot be considered fetishes.

L- Love: Leon doesn’t need love to fuck. But to him, there is a huge difference between fucking and love-making. The first is just to get off. The second is an act of love. For the persons who had the opportunity to test both, they would immediately tell you how drastically distinct sex with Leon is when feelings are involved. When he fucks, Leon is mostly lazy and almost selfish. When he makes love, he takes his time and acts so sweet.

M - Massage: Leon sucks at giving massages however important and necessary touching is to him. His massages are not that good and there are actually very rare. He doesn’t think about massaging his partner and he doesn’t crave them either. But he must admit that when they happen he enjoys them a lot, especially if they occur after a long day at work or an exhausting mission.

N – Nudity: Leon is very body-confident and he is far from being modest or prudish. He doesn’t have a problem with nudity. He can spend an entire morning naked at home and not be bothered by it. It might come as a surprise for the people that have the chance to share his intimacy. When it comes to his partner being naked in front of him, Leon doesn’t care much as well. They can walk around in the nude or take a shower or a bath with him and he would still stay as cool as a cucumber (as long as things don’t become too lustful of course). Though it was not the case when he was younger.

O – Oral sex: If Leon is not that much into hand jobs, we can’t say the same about oral sex. Though he is more a receiver than a giver, the man knows how to please his partner with his mouth. He usually does it during foreplay but only when he feels like it. He won’t go down on his partner if they don’t go down on him in return. A dick move maybe but that’s how he works. Also, despite being so talented with his mouth and tongue, Leon usually never lingers down. The best thing to do, if you want to have his tongue on you for longer than a minute, is to improvise a 69, meaning you give him a blowjob while sitting on his face. Speaking of blowjobs, he simply adores them. Leon will gladly shove his dick in his partner’s mouth and watch them bob their head. He will give them the right pace by holding them by the hair but if he’s fully satisfied by how fellatio is done he’ll simply stare and enjoy it. He’s not one to admit this he actually finds an exhilarating pleasure in watching his partner down on their knees, maybe because being taken care of is something too rare for a man who, like Leon, spends his time caring about others before himself.

P – Position. The agility Leon gained through all the years of training allows him to succeed in doing some positions people would believe impossible. When he was a young agent and eager to experience new things, he tried some crazy positions such as the Capricorn, the Spider or Thor’s Hammer. But now that he is older he doesn’t want sex to look like a game of Twister. So he is back to classics, having a thing for easy positions that allow him to touch and grope his partner. He likes sex in the missionary position or doggy style especially if he wants to take the helm. But when he is lazy or wants to let his partner take control, he likes being ridden cowgirl style. Simple but efficient.

Q – Quickie: It happens a lot. Leon is often in a rush because of his work and he always feels like he never has time for himself. So, if he’s single and in search of a partner to have sex with, the chances that the encounter ends up in a quickie is very likely. And even if a quickie is not in his mind, Leon is not a man that will suppress an orgasm to make sex last. If he feels like he’s going to cum, even after five or ten minutes of sex, he will cum. In a relationship, quickies can happen but there are actually rare. When he knows he has to leave for a mission or when he comes back from one, he always takes his time to enjoy sex, in the first case because it can be the last time he makes love to his SO, in the second case because he missed them. But in general, sex will rarely last longer than thirty minutes with Leon.

R – Role Play: Not really is cup of tea. He doesn’t see the point in role-playing finding it mostly embarrassing and ridiculous especially when it involves costumes. Besides, his acting skills aren’t worth a dime and he has no imagination. So even if he wanted to role play he would be terrible at him. Moreover, he wouldn’t like his partner to play nurse/doctor or whatever either. He likes them the way they are, meaning with no frills or pretence.

S – Stamina: Leon is athletic and has an incredible resistance to fatigue as well as an amazing control over his body. He knows his limits. Therefore we can say that he is a man that has stamina. But he doesn’t use it that much which can be very sad for his partner. If he actually wanted to, he would be able to have a sex marathon but as said before he is not one who often takes his time in bed. However, that doesn’t mean he won’t have sex several times in the same night or the same day. When he is in furlough and in the presence of an arousing partner that has a thirst similar to his, Leon will gladly fuck many times. Once, he fucked the same partner four times in the same night.

T – Talking: Leon is not much of a talker and he is not the kind of man that will be extremely loud in bed. He prefers to use his mouth to kiss his partner rather than use it to talk or make noise. He believes sex is not the moment to chitchat. After all there are so many opportunities to talk later, don’t you think? So, apart from some occasional commands (‘Come here’, ‘Ride me, baby’, ‘Yes suck that cock’) curses (80% of the time it’s ‘Fuck’) and grunts that he barely lets out through his gritted teeth, Leon is quite a silent lover. He is just noisy enough to make his partner know that he likes what they’re doing. However when he is very aroused or in the dominant mood, Leon can dirty talk. But not too much and never vulgarly. He is not the type of man that will insult his partner. He always remains respectful. He can be playful especially when he asks his partner naughty questions that he knows will make them moan (for example: ‘Do you want to cum for me?’)

U – Underwear: Trunks. He wears trunks and nothing else and it’s simply because he likes how he looks in them. Plus they’re comfortable and they hold his package and his butt in place. You will never see Leon in briefs since he believes that briefs are for little boys (he used to wear them when he was a kid) and old men (especially if they’re white). You won’t find any boxer shorts in his drawers either because he hates loose underwear. They have the tendency to ride up when he puts on his jeans. Leon’s underwear is always unicoloured, mostly black, grey or blue. On a woman, he likes nice sexy lingerie and to him, the bra must always match the bottom. Ugly underwear can be a turn off for Leon especially if the underwear looks rather childish. No unicorn or Tweety prints please and no pink cotton panties. You’re not 12 anymore.

V – Virginity: Leon lost his virginity after the Raccoon City incident. He was 21 and it was with an agent he used to train with at the US.STRAT.COM headquarters. The experience was not disastrous though it didn’t really last long and Leon actually keeps a rather good memory of it. Before that, he used to date a girl who was even more goody two shoes than him and who was into the “no sex before the wedding” doctrine. That’s not why they broke up but it frustrated Leon quite a couple times.

W – Worship Any fleshy part of his partner’s body. As said before, Leon loves to touch and grope, so he will gladly appreciate any part of the body he can squeeze or dig his nails in. Tighs, breasts, hips, butts. If it’s tender he loves it.

X- Xenophilia Leon doesn’t discriminate. Race is never a problem and as long as he finds the person attractive and actually feels a certain chemistry, he doesn’t care if they are blond, brunette, redhead, if their eyes are light or dark, if they’re tall, small, skinny or curvy, Causasian, Latina/o, Asian or African. He likes them all.

Y – Yearn Leon never yearns and he never struggles to find a partner to have sex with. When he wants to have sex, if he’s not in a relationship, he will simply call a previous conquest or find a new one in a nearby bar. And if he’s in a relationship, he will make his SO understand he wants to get laid by laying some hungry kisses in their neck (or anywhere else) while caressing their body. Leon is never straightforward. Saying “Baby, I want to fuck” or “I’m horny. Let’s go upstairs” is not in his nature.

Z – Zzzzz: After sex, Leon likes to sleep. If he’s home with his SO he will fall asleep right after the thing is done, holding them tight in his arms. If his partner is a one-night stand, he will certainly not sleep with them. If he happened to have sex at their house he will go back to his and if they’re at his place, small are the chances he will all them to stay for the night. However, if they are luckily allowed to stay, Leon will make sure they sleep on their side of the bed. No post-coital cuddle for him. That’s one of the things he used to do when he was younger and that he refuses to do now.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #headcanon #resident evil #do you know your alphabet

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rosethornewrites · 3 years

Text

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 14

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Family, and they were married, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Feels, Sex Education, Implied Sexual Content, First Time, Aftercare, Morning After, Afterglow, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Hand Jobs, Chronic Pain, Biting, Conversations

Summary: With Wei Wuxian on the mend, Wen Qing sends him into town with A-Yuan, Lan Wangji, and Wen Ning to keep him out of trouble. They run into someone unexpectedly.

Notes: See end.

AO3 link | FFN link (no smut)

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

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Wei Ying seems happy to be in town for the first time since his near-possession, cleared after nearly a week by Wen Qing. Lan Wangji is of the opinion that the surplus of radishes and need to sell them was more the reason for her clearance, along with the fact a bored Wei Ying was dangerous.

The musical acupuncture helped him heal rapidly for someone without a golden core, according to Wen Qing. And Wei Ying had started to theorize about ways this could potentially be adapted to help Wen Ning—apparently one of the concerns was whether spiritual energy used in such a way would hurt him, or if using resentful energy could damage Wen Ning’s control. He didn’t feel ready to experiment just yet.

There was only so much Lan Wangji could do to keep Wei Ying distracted once he was recovering, though the tidy rewritten notes thrilled his husband. After the third small explosion while he worked on the Compass of Evil, Wen Qing decided he’d do less damage selling radishes with Wen Ning in town, and insisted they take A-Yuan with them so Granny could rest.

Damage is a perhaps relative idea, when a fake Yiling Laozu disciple sets up shop next to them to hawk his counterfeit wares.

Lan Wangji is surprised when Wei Ying finds the whole thing amusing, and says nothing when he steals the charlatan’s Compass of Evil, replacing it with a radish. Truthfully, the theft satisfies him; it grates on him to hear the lies gossips spew, to see people slander his zhiji for their own gain.

The day is otherwise long, with Wen Ning too shy to effectively call attention to their radishes. Adorably, A-Yuan is a bit of a help there, enthusiastically calling the attention of young women who find him adorable (but at least purchased radishes), but he grows bored easily and needs redirection.

It doesn’t help that Wei Ying keeps rubbing his hand over his collar with a dreamy expression, which more than once leads Lan Wangji to recite the Lan precepts mentally lest he act inappropriately in public—Wei Ying is wearing his ribbon at his crown, so that restraint is absent.

Under his collar is the evidence of his lack of restraint—a bruise in the shape of Lan Wangji’s teeth.

He is careful, on the whole, given Wei Ying bruises easily in his unhealthy state, bruises that take too long to fade for Wangji’s comfort. But with Wei Ying straddling his lap and moaning obscenities in his ear, moving his hips just so, as he was tasting the sweat on his collar, his control had broken.

At the bite, Wei Ying had come with an exultant “yes!” Their stomachs slick with it between them, his nails scraping at Lan Wangji’s back, clenching so hard around him his vision whited out with the force of his own orgasm. He can’t think about the bruise without remembering.

Wei Ying likes the bruise, to Lan Wangji’s mortification. Likes being marked by him, little reminders of their every day.

“I know you’d never really hurt me, Lan Zhan,” he’d said, his voice filled with a trust Lan Wangji didn’t feel he deserved. “And I liked it, in case you couldn’t tell.”

Watching Wei Ying rub it here in town is a special kind of hell, him at arm’s length and too far from their bed.

It becomes worse when Wei Ying glances his way and catches him looking, immediately reddening as though he knows exactly what he is thinking, which makes restraint all the more difficult. He looks beautiful, blushing. But he has always looked beautiful, and Lan Wangji had previously managed restraint—that was, however, before he had acknowledged their relationship, before they had consummated. Somehow the longing, the dreams and fantasies, had been much more manageable before he knew how Wei Ying’s sweat-slick skin tasted, how he felt coming apart.

The sale of the last of the radishes is a relief, but they still need to purchase items on Wen Qing’s list before returning to Burial Mounds. He lets Wei Ying focus on A-Yuan, who insists on being carried, and walks alongside him without touching him. A-Yuan is practically hanging backward from Wei Ying’s arms, giggling at silly faces he’s making. Wen Ning takes up the rear with the cart, where he’ll have Wei Ying sit if his strength fails him.

He is so focused on Wei Ying beside him that he doesn’t notice Jiang Wanyin in front of them until he halts, the smile on his face freezing, his stream of nonsense conversation with A-Yuan trailing into silence.

Jiang Wanyin does not look happy.

But, then, he rarely does.

Lan Wangji has to steel himself, doing his best not to look at the lower dantian where Wei Ying’s core now rests. Instead he bows politely.

“Sect Leader Jiang.”

Beside him, Wei Ying bows as best he can with A-Yuan in his arms, and he can sense movement behind him that tells him Wen Ning has followed suit.

Jiang Wanyin’s lip curls, but he just silently tosses his head in a beckoning gesture.

He can hear the way Wei Ying’s breath quickens, the bit of perspiration on his upper lip. Can sense his nervousness over what is to come, what he has decided to reveal. Lan Wangji takes a breath to calm himself. His husband needs him steady now.

The moment Jiang Wanyin turns to lead the way to wherever he intends them to speak, Lan Wangji puts a steadying hand on Wei Ying’s elbow as they follow and receives a wan smile in response.

Lan Wangji is relieved he is wearing the clothing the aunties sewed for him today, wearing a simpler guan Wei Ying had carved for him personally after he had expressed reluctance to continue wearing the one he had worn to befit and show his station. Wei Ying had carved two rabbits on the guan, one wearing a forehead ribbon and the other stained a darker color with leftover dye from the dock root. The craftwork had distracted him nicely for a while.

The clothing is of a heavier weave than he is used to, but he doesn’t mind it. If the plainer clothing has distracted Jiang Wanyin from noticing Lan Wangji is not wearing his forehead ribbon, that it is woven around Wei Ying’s crown and plaited with his red ribbon down his back, it is a relief. Jiang Wanyin is not known for an even temper, and his inattention has staved off what might be an argument until they are out of public.

Wei Ying will find the coming conversations stressful enough in private. He doesn’t need it to start publicly and draw attention from the locals.

Despite all the rumors about Wei Ying floating around Yiling, none of the regular citizens seem to know what he looks like. Any rumors imported speak of him as a demon or monster, and so any talismans purporting to show his features show him as such—talismans Wei Ying had decorated his cave with, and which Lan Wangji has successfully convinced him to allow him to remove. As infamous and reviled as Wei Ying is, he has managed to stay anonymous outside the gentry, anonymity that affords him some safety, and Lan Wangji would rather it not be shattered by one of Jiang Wanyin’s temper tantrums.

They are led to a courtyard, and though Jiang Wanyin first tries to close the door to keep Lan Wangji and Wen Ning out, he is able to stop this by blocking the shutting door with his sheathed sword. The Jiang sect heir must see something in the narrowing of Lan Wangji’s eyes, because he doesn’t attempt it again, instead closing and locking the door behind them.

Aside from a single figure in a long black cloak, they are alone, and Lan Wangji is unsurprised but pleased when it turns out to be Jiang Yanli in her wedding robes and headdress, come to show Wei Ying so he is not completely left out—he has seen his husband’s pain over this, how much he misses the sister who raised him, knows she is as close to his blood as can be, and he hopes this eases it somewhat.

Lan Wangji can feel Wei Ying’s arms drooping under the weight of A-Yuan, so he carefully takes the boy from him so he can greet his sister.

“A-Xian,” she calls him, untying the cloak and letting it fall. “What do you think?”

He’s close enough to hear Wei Ying’s breath catch, and is taken back to his disappointment over being excluded from the wedding. He himself is reminded of seeing Wei Ying in red following the Sunshot Campaign, in his underrobes after waking for a coma, the only time he has seen him in only in red. He realizes with a pang he will never see his husband in wedding robes.

“What, she’s not marrying you.”

Jiang Wanyin’s snide tone grates on Lan Wangji, but Wei Ying responds in kind, and he recalls watching them snipe verbally at each other during the lecture in Cloud Recesses, back before the world fell apart.

Jiang Yanli calms them, and he marvels at her ability to bring them together as they try to convince her she looks lovely in her wedding garb.

“You’ll only believe it if he says it,” Wei Ying says, faking petulance. “Lan Zhan, what do you think?”

He had been trying to avert his eyes politely, but even Jiang Wanyin seems to be watching for his reaction, so he studies them, the delicate stitching, the fall of the layers.

Lan Wangji wishes he could see Wei Ying in wedding robes.

“Elegant,” he says with a nod.

“Zhan-gege, who’s Pretty-jiejie?” A-Yuan asks, twisting in his hold.

Wei Ying smiles at the boy, taking him back.

“Even A-Yuan knows you’re pretty, shijie, so you don’t need to worry.”

Jiang Yanli folds the cloak and gestures to the nearby table.

“Come now, I’ve made soup.”

When Wei Ying sits, Jiang Yanli’s expression shifts to surprise, and he notices her looking at his forehead ribbon in his hair. She looks to him, a question in her expression, and he simply nods. Her responding smile is filled with relief, but also regret.

He is surprised when she doesn’t address it immediately, instead gesturing to him to sit and opening the basket. He takes a seat beside Wei Ying. The smell of the soup fills the air, a scent unfamiliar to Lan Wangji, but one that reminds him of his husband. This, he realizes, must be the lotus root and pork rib soup he has heard him talk about.

“I apologize. I only have three bowls,” she says, sounding truly disappointed. “I did not expect…”

Lan Wangji is about to demur and insist he does not intend to eat when Jiang Wanyin, surprisingly, pulls out a pouch of money.

“We can purchase a couple from the market, A-jie.”

Wen Ning bows.

“Jiang-zongzhu, Jiang-guniang, I can g-go for you.”

Jiang Wanyin frowns at Wen Ning with thinly veiled hostility that baffles Lan Wangji, but hands him some silver.

As Wen Ning flees, he wonders if it is to avoid Jiang Wanyin, or to avoid being present for at least part of the conversation to come.

He knows Wei Ying would prefer to flee, and he strokes his arm briefly with his thumb. The smile he receives from his husband is tremulous, but he can see his determination.

Jiang Yanli smiles at A-Yuan, her attention drawn by the movement.

“Who is this little one?” she asks, crouching slightly so she’s at the child’s height.

“A-Yuan is A-Yuan, Pretty-jiejie!”

Wei Ying shifts, catching his hand briefly and squeezing it; Lan Wangji realizes he’s decided to start here, with A-Yuan, in the multitude of revelations that are to be made.

“A-Yuan, this is my shijie,” he says softly. “You can call her guma.”

Jiang Yanli gasps in delight when A-Yuan dutifully calls her guma.

“A-Xian, is he yours?”

She is obviously unable to take him into her arms, wearing her wedding robes as she is, but she reaches out to take A-Yuan’s hand.

“Not by blood, but he started calling me a-die.”

He offers a wan smile to both his siblings.

“Meet Wei Yuan. Or he will be, once I’ve introduced him properly to my parents.”

“He’s a Wen,” Jiang Wanyin states.

Lan Wangji levels him with a stare, though it’s unclear in his tone how he feels.

“He’s an orphan and he’s three years old,” Wei Ying shoots back.

Jiang Wanyin’s face softens, but Jiang Yanli looks alarmed.

“A-Xian, he was at the work camp? At Qiongqi Path?”

Her face hardens when he nods.

“The children, the civilians, all were supposed to be let go. How could they…?”

Lan Wangji stays silent, knowing Wei Ying would prefer to shield her from some of the uglier realities of the war, but is reminded of coming upon Jin Zixun shooting unarmed civilians in chains, and his lie that it was sanctioned by the Lan and Nie clans.

“I couldn’t leave them there, shijie,” he whispers. “Wen Ning and Wen Qing sheltered us, and the others were held as Wen Ruohan’s hostages against her during the war.”

A-Yuan is watching Wei Ying quietly, with the same air of concern he had at the restaurant in Yiling not so many days ago. Lan Wangji shifts again to put the child on Wei Ying’s lap, watching as the boy hugs him.

Wei Ying manages a smile for him, then leans his head close to him and points to Jiang Wanyin.

“And the fussy gege is your shushu,” he says conspiratorially.

“You—!”

Jiang Yanli silences Jiang Wanyin with a look.

“Like Ning-shushu?” A-Yuan asks. “Do I call him nao-shushu?”

“That’s your Jiang-shushu,” Wei Ying clarifies before Jiang Cheng can take offense, but nearly chokes on the title and falls quiet.

Lan Wangji remembers abruptly that Wei Ying had once referred to Jiang Fengmian by that very name, and he watches his husband in concern. He has expressed feeling as though the attack on Lotus Pier was his fault, and he can see the guilt and grief Wei Ying is struggling to hold back.

“Yes,” Jiang Wanyin says, his voice strained as though he is fighting his own emotional turmoil, ending an awkward silence. “You can call me Jiang-shushu.”

When A-Yuan does, it is perhaps the closest Lan Wangji has ever seen Jiang Wanyin come to smiling.

Wen Ning returns with several bowls and soup spoons, an inexpensive wooden variety they have at the Burial Mounds. He tries to give Jiang Wanyin his change and is waved off.

“You can use it to get something sweet for… for my zhizi,” he says, his tone brusque. “Or a toy or something.”

Wei Ying smiles, his posture relaxing just slightly—A-Yuan’s acceptance by his siblings as their nephew has eased his nerves somewhat. But this is only the first of three difficult revelations that must be made, and arguably the easiest of them.

Jiang Yanli serves each of them, putting a generous portion of meat in A-Yuan’s bowl, and takes a seat. She herself is not eating, likely concerned about staining her wedding robes. Instead she seems content to watch them eat.

Wei Ying alternates between himself and A-Yuan, one spoon each.

“Be sure to chew the lotus root,” Wen Ning tells the boy softly.

A-Yuan nods enthusiastically, clearly enamored of the flavors; Lan Wangji can’t blame him. Though there is more spice than he is accustomed to, as is the norm in Yunmeng cuisine, the flavor is somehow warm and comforting. He completely understands how this soup is his husband’s favorite.

“You’re not eating,” Jiang Yanli says.

Wen Ning jerks in surprise.

“Oh… I was going to save this for jiejie so she could try it.”

Jiang Yanli smiles warmly.

“We will be coming to Burial Mounds, once I change at the inn. I brought enough ingredients to make some for everyone.”

Wei Ying nearly chokes on a bite of soup. She pats his back until he’s recovered.

“Wen Qing sent me a letter. We have things to discuss.”

Jiang Wanyin looks sour about this.

“Speaking of, Zewu-Jun sent an interesting letter. Said you have news to share. I’m assuming it has to do with why Hanguang-Jun is here?”

Wei Ying puts his soup spoon down and hands A-Yuan off to Wen Ning with his bowl. Wen Ning doesn’t seem surprised by this and takes over feeding him.

He tries not to be nervous over his husband getting the boy out of the potential line of fire. He rather hopes it is unnecessary, but he has seen Jiang Wanyin’s temper.

“About that,” Wei Ying says, then pauses, glancing at Lan Wangji. “Um, well… We’re married.”

For a moment, there is stunned hurt on Jiang Wanyin’s features, but it’s quickly replaced by wrath, powerful enough that zidian sparks.

“You couldn’t even invite us?!”

Lan Wangji will not have him blame Wei Ying for that. He knows there will be enough of that when they get to the next revelation. He would rather the focus be on him.

“He did not know we were married until recently.”

Jiang Wanyin’s eyes snap to him, and he carefully keeps his gaze cool in response to what is almost a volcano. He sputters, almost too angry to speak, zidian sparking even more dangerously, leaving the scent of ozone in the air.

“You— Without his consent?! This, from the honorable Hanguang-Jun?!”

“Jiang Wanyin!”

Wei Ying’s voice is low and cutting, startlingly powerful despite the lack of volume. It’s enough to startle his brother out of his anger, at least momentarily.

“He handfasted me in the Cold Spring cave,” he explains. “Lan Yi’s guqin was attacking me because I wasn’t Lan.”

Jiang Yanli stands and levels a look at Jiang Wanyin that somehow makes him quail; Lan Wangji only understands why when she levels it at him—the fury of a mother figure.

“Please explain, Lan-er-gongzi.”

Her voice is clipped in the same manner it was when she chastised Jin Zixun at the Phoenix Mountain hunt, and leaves no doubt that she will find a way to harm him if his explanation is deemed unsatisfactory. She is mildly terrifying.

“Wei Ying was being attacked with Chord Assassination,” he says. “The headband would afford him protection. I did not expect Lan Yi’s appearance. Or that we would bow. Regardless, I did not regret it.”

“You married him by accident?” Jiang Wanyin mutters, the rage gone and replaced with confusion.

“Lan Yi did not disapprove.”

“And you never told A-Xian?” Jiang Yanli asks.

She also seems more confused than angry now.

Wei Ying sighs tiredly.

“Aiya, Jiang Cheng, shijie… When would he have had time? When we were searching for the yin iron? Indoctrination? The Xuanwu cave? After—”

He breaks off. His siblings look pained, remembering the fate of Lotus Pier, though they don’t know what came after for Wei Ying. Yet.

“There was never time,” Lan Wangji agrees. “I did not expect my regard for him to be reciprocated. But now, with the danger to Wei Ying… even were it solely political, I could help protect him.”

“It’s not solely political,” Wei Ying chirps, his tone almost smug. “It’s very reciprocated—and can’t be annulled now!”

Lan Wangji can feel his ears heating. Just under Wei Ying’s collar lurks the proof of that, as he’s been acutely aware all day. He has to avoid looking at him for a moment—not out of embarrassment, but because if he does, if he sees the heat in Wei Ying’s gaze, he might lose control and kiss him in front of his siblings.

As much as his husband might prefer the distraction, he doubts it will help much.

“I didn’t need to know that, ever,” Jiang Wanyin grouses, making a face.

Jiang Yanli takes her seat again, her face serious.

“A-Xian is in danger?”

Lan Wangji nods.

“The rumors make him out to be a monster raising an army of Wen cultivators, as though he is an enemy. The truth is quite different. The lies Jin Guangshan has spread to imply he disrespects Jiang Wanyin were meant to isolate him. They want the amulet.”

“Wait, what’s this about me not respecting Jiang Cheng?” Wei Ying demands, clearly affronted.

“One of the claims made after Qiongqi Path,” Lan Wangji tells him. “That you were speaking ill of Jiang Wanyin at the Phoenix Mountain hunt.”

Wei Ying looks stunned, and his gaze darts to his brother. He evidently doesn’t like what he sees, his expression shuttering.

“I see,” he says, the words heavy in the air. “And you believed them.”

Jiang Wanyin has the decency to look ashamed.

Jiang Yanli seems at a loss. Lan Wangji suspects she has heard none of this. Had she been aware, he has no doubt the offenders would have regretted speaking ill of Wei Ying.

“Maybe you’re right not to trust me,” Wei Ying murmurs finally. “I’ve lied to both of you.”

The admission startles a flinch from his siblings. Lan Wangji can feel the tension in Wei Ying, like a guqin string stretched too taut, ready to snap at the slightest touch. He reaches for Wei Ying’s hand under the table and places his on top of it. He is relieved when his husband relaxes slightly, a slight tremor running through him.

Wei Ying’s hand, when he laces theirs together, is clammy and cold, his grip tighter than normal. As much as Lan Wangji wishes he could do more, the best he can do is be here for him.

The quiet stretches, seeming to freeze them in time, broken only when A-Yuan asks Wen Ning for another bite of soup.

Jiang Yanli reaches forward, touches Wei Ying’s arm.

“About what, A-Xian?”

She looks concerned and a little afraid, and the same look lurks on Jiang Wanyin’s features. They know, Lan Wangji realizes that Wei Ying has been hiding something, maybe even suspect how terrible it is. Whatever they might imagine, he knows the truth will be much worse.

Wei Ying swallows hard, his fingers tightening. He seems to be trying to find the words, deciding how to say it in a way that might soften the blow.

But there is no way to soften it.

“I didn’t know how to find Baoshan Sanren,” he admits finally.

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

The conversation is a lot longer than I expected it to be, and this is a good stopping point, even if it is a bit of a cliffhanger. This went in directions I didn’t always expect, in part because Jiang Yanli is terrifying.

Lan Wangji has feelings about Jiang Cheng. They’re not always the nicest feelings, but he has them regardless. It’s ok, because Jiang Cheng has similar feelings in return.

It might take me a bit to pick this up again. I’m participating in the WangXian Lunar New Year gift exchange, so I’m working on my piece for that and putting my other fics on hold for a little while. Also, the new semester just started, and I’ve probably fielded about 50 emails from panicked students today alone.

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charlieknighte · 3 years

Text

you find shelter somewhere in me

Edmund Hitchcock/Sige Coleburn

Established Relationship - Domestic Fluff - Mild Hurt/Comfort

1,342 words

In a pub in Marielda in the year before the world is eaten by the dark, Sige Coleburn gets a small cut on his arm.

Sige closes his apartment door behind him and leans against it, the world-weariness he can usually keep at bay washing over him. Edmund is upon him before he can have more than a moment to catch his breath. "Sige. What happened, love?"

Sige shrugs off his coat even as he fusses over him. At this point he should really be used to Edmund letting himself in, but he still feels a little sore that he caught him like this. "Got in a barfight. I'm alright."

"You're bleeding."

Sige looks down at the arm Edmund has grabbed insistently. There's a cut across his forearm from a knife he disarmed a moment too late. "It's not too bad."

"Sige—look, come and sit down. I'll run you a bath."

"No, you don't have to do that, baby." And yet Edmund somehow maneuvers him over to the couch and disappears. Sige flops down and closes his eyes, cradling his arm. He craves a stiff drink and a soft mattress and some peace and quiet, but frankly he’s never going to get the third when Edmund is around. He makes do with the couch and some relative tranquility until Edmund comes to fetch him again, and then stumbles after him to the bathroom.

It’s only once he sheds his clothes and gets in the bath that it occurs to him that Edmund might’ve had the right idea. "Thanks, baby," he says quietly, splashing water over himself and watching the water run red.

Edmund, who has taken it upon himself to wash his bloodstained shirt in the sink, smiles at him. "Should I even doubt that you won?" he says.

"Nah. Wasn't a fair fight for the poor guy.”

“I’m proud of you, darling.” It strikes Sige as a slightly backwards—and very Hitchcock—thing to be proud of him for, but he doesn’t feel like inciting a famously unwinnable moral discussion with Edmund tonight. He sinks down into the water and closes his eyes, letting the warmth of the water ease his sore muscles and melt away what lingering resentment he'd brought back from the bar. A few splashing noises come from where Edmund is still fussing around with his shirt, reminding him he’s not alone. That’s starting to feel like a good thing.

Eventually the bathwater gets cold and Edmund goes off to find some place to hang his clothes, and Sige gets out to towel-dry and change into a clean pair of underthings. He’s lucky he only got lightly banged and bruised, but his knuckles are complaining fiercely. He limps back to the bathroom and finds his first aid kit, finding some gauze and hoping he can do a half-decent patch job.

“Hey,” Edmund says. Sige hadn’t noticed him standing in the bathroom doorway. He steps in closer and plucks the gauze right from Sige’s hand. “Let me.” Sige is too baffled to protest for a moment. Edmund takes his hand and turns it over, and starts wrapping his knuckles carefully.

Sige finds him voice again. “Not that I don’t appreciate this, baby,” he says, and watches Edmund stop what he’s doing to look up at him with his pre-argument expression. “But I’m… I’m okay. Really. You don’t have to worry about me like this.”

Edmund visibly softens and reaches up to cup his face, being careful not to touch his bruises. "Sige, I’m not worried. I’ve never seen someone you couldn’t stand up to. That doesn't mean I'm not going to take care of you when I can." He stands on his tiptoes and kisses him softly. "I love you so much. Alright? Let me do this for you."

Sige doesn't know what to say, and even he's not dumb enough to turn away kindness when it's ofdered this profusely. "Okay." He watches Edmund go back to tending to his wounds and starts to notice how much differently he does it than anyone else Sige has gone to. It’s always been with impatience that Sige patches up his own wounds, and on the rare occasion that they’ve been serious enough to warrant a visit to a medic it was altogether a businesslike affair. Edmund puts far more care into it, cradling his hand tenderly and wrapping it so gently his wounds don't sting. Sige's chest feels tight and funny, like he might cry.

Edmund tucks in one last bit of gauze. “All done,” he says lightly, lifting his hand to leave a kiss on his bandaged knuckles. Sige is reminded of the way his mother used to kiss his scrapes and how it would take the hurt away as if by magic.

He reaches up and cups Edmund's face, feeling so impossibly warm towards him that he already knows he's not going to be able to put it into words. "Thank you," he says, quiet and earnest.

"Of course." Edmund smiles against his palm, reaching up to cradle his hand in his again. "Let's get to bed, yeah?"

"Yeah." Edmund doesn't let go of his hand. Sige lets himself be led through the house to his bedroom, and then tucked in and fussed over for a couple of minutes until Edmund's satisfied he's comfortable. He tucks his face half under the covers and smiles as Edmund walks away.

Edmund didn't bring nightclothes as always, so he borrows one of Sige's shirts. It comes down nearly to his knees. Sige watches him bustle around in the bathroom, taking off his earrings and washing his face and indulging in the comforts of relative privacy. It's sweet that he trusts Sige enough to leave the door open and let him see. He likes having Edmund here, he thinks sleepily. He's small and bright and talkative and makes Sige's apartment feel less like a shack attached to a workshop and more like a home. Sige knows coming home to him every night isn't all that realistic considering his situation, but it’s a comforting daydream to keep around in his stead.

He watches Edmund walk to the bed and shuffle in, admiring as much of him as he can in the dim light. Usually Sige likes to reach out and pull him closer by the waist, but this time Edmund is the one gently guiding him near. Sige lays his head on his chest and lets his eyes slowly slide closed as Edmund runs his fingers through his hair. He didn't think he needed to be taken care of like he was tonight, but he's starting to remember how long it's been since anyone was this gentle with him. The answer hurts. Since the moment his parents died, he hadn't gotten much in the way of reassurance other than the occasional pitying pat on the shoulder. The Six are a little better about affection, but still--he can’t remember the last time he was given this much time and attention. Edmund is careful in a way that no one's ever thought to be with him, like he's a breakable thing with too much to carry. And isn't he?

Sige buries his face in Edmund's chest, not wanting to remember the world outside this room anymore. "I've got you, my love," Edmund murmurs. He rubs Sige's back and leaves little kisses on the top of his head. Sige finds himself on the verge of tears again. He wonders why what threatens to set him off is feeling genuinely, properly loved for the first time in years, and then decides he doesn't want to know the answer.

“I love you,” he manages to say before his throat closes up completely, grateful that having his face pressed against Edmund’s chest disguises what a wreck he is.

"I love you too." Edmund cuddles him closer and hums softly. Sige tries and tries not to cry and is eventually successful. Maybe one day he’ll be comfortable enough to let Edmund see that.

There’s nothing else he can do but find one of Edmund’s hands to hold and fall asleep to the sound of his heart, forgetting how used he is to the quiet.

#marielda #friends at the table #edmund hitchcock #sige coleburn #sigemund

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chimswae · 4 years

Text

BTS Caretaker CH4

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 2,833

- Author Note: I almost forgotten to update bcs too caught up with work :<

Previous | Next

Chapter 4

One month passed so fast, just like the blink of an eye.

Seul was getting used leaving early in the morning as early as six in the morning to Bangtan’s dorm to do the cleaning unless Manager Sejin notified her mother in advance of the changes in their schedule (which rarely happened). No one knew the fact that Seul filled in her mother’s position temporarily. It was her mother decision to keep it to themselves considering it was almost impossible to meet the boys and their managers there.

According to Mrs Hwang, as long as they didn’t get caught then there’s nothing to be worried. All these years, she had been doing her job silently like she never existed there. As much as the boys were eager to meet their caretaker but it was the lines which had been set by their company.

Rule 1: The caretaker is not allowed to have any form of contact with the boys except the managers.

Rule 2: The caretaker is only allowed to perform his/her job without the presence of the boys in the dorm.

Rule 3: The caretaker is prohibited to take any photos of their belongings and to only perform the task as listed in the contract that includes general cleaning and preparing meals for lunch or dinner is optional.

The job might appear exclusive to people out there but it was not as fun as it sounds. First, you had to clean after their mess, when we said mess, it was a REAL MESS. The boys were too busy and had little time in hand to clean their own rooms and clothes. As a result, Seul will be welcomed by the sight of their laundries every single day without failed.

Stack of laundries! We were not talking about three pair of jeans. It was just way too many. She wondered just how frequent they got changed in a day.

On the bright side, she could ease her mother’s burden as Mrs Hwang finally went to her treatment consistently without skipping any in a week. She just wished her mother to get better soon even though she had to work twice as hard than before.

With the help of Wongeun, she was able to keep up with her job at the bubble tea shop. Hence, since they opened around 8 in the morning every day, Seul could come later than her actual shift until she completed her work babysitting caretaking the boys.

“So, how’s life” annoying Ji Hoon sat up as he caught fatigue Seul walked pass him.

“Stop joking around Ji Hoon” she frowned, throwing her small body on the couch accompanied with a deep grunt. Working extras hard made her grumpier than usual. She was drained as hell today. Although, her body got used to perform two jobs in a day yet today was extremely extra in comparison to previous days.

His lips twitched upwards “Nuna, seriously you look super dead. What happen at work today?” he eyes rounded with a hint of concern.

“It was that time of the month when the shop is flooded with humans. Nothing special” Seul muttered with her eyes close. She needed a long bubble bath to get rid of this mental and physical exhaustion before she went gaga.

“Okay. How about Bangtan hyungs?”

“What is with them? And stop calling them hyungs, you don’t even know them” Seul sounded annoy just by hearing Bangtan Sonyeondan names. The names itself drained the last energy in her.

Hoon crossed his arm, turning his body to face Seul “They are my idols and yes I know them!” he responded feeling defensive.

“Ji Hoon being a fan doesn’t make you their friend, stop being delusional. You are seriously worse than their fangirls or those sasaeng in front of their building” Seul cringed at the thought of those sasaeng fans which she encountered every day before she entered the expensive building.

“Oh my god there are fans camp in front of the building!” he gasped dramatically as his breath hitched in process.

Rolling her eyes in annoyance, Seul shot her brother a dirty look “It is normal. They are celebrities like you never heard such cases on the internet” deep down inside she pitied them. How did they overcome those problems without getting annoyed or crazy over it? Guess they lived up to their names.

“Nuna… have you by any chance met any of them? Accidentally?”

“Are you crazy? Wasn’t it obvious I would only attend my job when they are not around”

“I know but isn’t there any slight chance in certain situation that you accidentally bump into them?” his brows perked up with so much interest. Hoon had always show his interest in her job as BTS Caretaker lately, and for an odd reason he would wait for her to comeback home every day just to get him updated.

Odd human being. Was every Bangtan fans acted like Ji Hoon or was it just him?

Seul inhaled deeply “That ‘certain situation’ will never happen. Ji Hoon I am not in the mood to entertain your weird antic, let’s be quiet and let me rest alright? Good night” with that she arose from her feet making way to her bedroom to get a good rest leaving sulky Hoon behind. Oh hell, it was not like she owed him anything? He was being dramatic as always.

Here goes another tiring day.

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

“Don’t you find it is weird that Ahjumma’s food taste odd lately?” the youngest of the group murmured under his breath while he eyed the food in front of him. Not that he wanted to sound ungrateful yet all these years they grew immune to Mrs Hwang’s cooking. The slight change of taste in her cooking was noticeable to everyone.

Jin nodded along showing his agreement “Yeah, it doesn’t taste as good as before I wonder if she is too busy to cook for us and decide to buy takeaways instead?” he swallowed the last piece of meat in his mouth in delight.

“But there is no evident saying she bought it from outside and just enjoy the food, stop complaining. She works hard for us too” said the leader with serious tone. It was his job to educate his members how to be grateful in any situation especially when it came to appreciate the fact that had food to eat in a day.

“I am just expressing my concern not that I am being bratty” Jungkook’s lips pursed into a pout.

Namjoon eyed the younger boy sternly “And I am just reminding you to always be thankful” he gave Jungkook a light pat showing off his dimple. He did not mean to cause any harm however it was their way of showing love to each other by being truthful in any occasion.

“Are you guys ready? Manager hyung is here” Jimin blinked fixing the strap of his sling bag with a small pout. It came out of habit whenever he was concentrating in doing something, his lips would twitch unconsciously into a small pout. The cause of death to every Armys outside.

Jin stood up gathering the empty plates placing it inside the sink “How’s Yoongi?” Hoseok appeared cheerfully while snatching the past piece of toast from Jungkook earning a dirty glare from the younger boy.

“Hyung is sleeping. I don’t want to wake him up, or he will insist to come with us” Hoseok shrugged patting Jungkook’s head like a small puppy signalling him to get ready now.

Jungkook tilted his head “Will hyung be alright alone?” his brows creased into a frown showing off his concern for Yoongi. They were supposed to perform in an award show today but few day ago Yoongi got hurt. He was recommended to not participate in any activities that can cause irritation to injured spot. Nonetheless, Bangtan will be performing like they usually do without Yoongi this time.

Guilt took over Yoongi even though he was supposed to get proper rest but his members managed to convince him to shrug the thoughts off. There were too many things in his mind like how it was unfair for others to work while he stayed at home mopping around. It was unnecessary really, being Yoongi it was not easy to wash off the uneasy feelings in him. He tends to overthink.

“He is a man don’t worry. Yoongi will be fine” Jin exclaimed with a genuine smile ending Jungkook’s worries right way. The boys were ready to leave the house an hour later than they usually did today since they would head straight to the venue for rehearsal. Jungkook, Hoseok and Namjoon left their dorms followed by Jin afterwards whilst Jimin was patiently waiting for Taehyung to show up.

Grinding his teeth together, he stroked his hair getting impatient “KIM TAEHYUNG! WE ARE LATE!” he hollered.

“Five minutes!” Taehyung flustered upon hearing Jimin’s chirpy voice calling out for him. He made sure to clean Yoongi’s injury spot one last time before finishing up the steps with a satisfied smile. “Hyung, we are leaving now! Take care” Yoongi grumbled sleepily with a slight nod and murmuring inaudible ‘thank you’.

Taehyung strutted to the main door with a foolish smile that never left his face, he ducked his head a little “Sorry, I was changing hyung’s bandage. LET’S GO!” he swung his arm around Jimin’s neck, dragging the smaller guy out before he could reply him.

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

Dragging her body lazily, Seul sighed at the sight of familiar building few metres from where she stood. She noticed black van parked in front of the building blocking the path for people like her to move and some more there she saw familiar faces a.k.a Bangtan’s fangirls there squealing like a freaking dolphin. Tilting her head at the direction, she decided to use the side entrance to enter the building. It was a hassle to deal with such crowd this early and she didn’t like that.

“Seokjin oppa!” a girl squirmed in sheer happiness. One may think this supposed to be an innocent act as a fan, but Seul knew it better. The girl was not a fan but a mental sasaeng who invaded their personal space. Fans should not act to the extent of camping outside their dorms. Don’t they have a life?

Seul attention was fixed on a guy in his baggy sweater looking drained yet he managed to crack a soft smile. It was interesting to watch something like this live and to be honest she had no idea who this Seokjin person was though she heard from her mother that Bangtan is not the only celebrities staying there. It must be another group that she was not aware of. Scratch that.

Burying herself under her grey hoodies, she pushed herself behind the fangirls making her ways inside. Seul looked into the bright lobby as she scanned the card against a scanner, and the door beeped open. To her utter astonishment, her body almost crashed against two figures who happened to be running like little kids to her direction.

“Shit” Seul cussed under her breath harshly and about to pick up the card that she dropped earlier due to the impact. Before she could bend down to pick it up, the guy with blonde locks was quick to apologize and handed the card with a deep bow.

“I am sorry…Here is your card” Seul made no effort to look at their faces as she kept her head lower taking the card from him with a deep sigh. It was still early for her to get worked up over this matter.

Taehyung looked as guilty as charged “Sorry we are in rush. Jims lets go manager hyung is calling for us!” with those last statement those two dashed past her, pushing the door open with their hip, ran for their life towards the black vehicle.

“Manager hyung? Jims?” she made her way along the hallway while humming to it cluelessly.

----------

Seul’s nose scrunched up, inhaling the remaining trail of manly scent from every corner of the room. Guess they just left. She mentally cursed herself for liking the smell. It was creepy but she had a thing for man’s cologne. According to Seul, the best smell usually came from a man’s cologne.

Slipping off her grey hoodie leaving Seul in her cream shirt, she placed it neatly on the couch along with her belongings before attending the first task of the day, laundries. Thankfully, it was not as bad as the day before so she could manage it in one hour. Until then, she had to do the dishes and cleaning off other mess that the boys did. She plugged her earphones and went through her playlist while doing her job diligently without slacking off. Every nook and cranny of this place needs to be clean.

Seul started off with the dishes, the living room and preparing side dishes for the boys to devour once they returned from their schedule. She talked about the significance of preparing food for the boys when they could have eaten outside or ordered for delivery. To her distaste, her mother insisted of preparing meals for them even though the chances of the food being dumped into the dumpster at the end of the day was high. She indicated it was the noble thing to do as their caretaker. It was not all about cleaning but as well as keeping them fed with love and affection. This seriously made her puke rainbows.

The noise came from the living room had awoken the sleeping Yoongi inside the room, now he was genuinely annoyed. He thought everyone had left for good, this called for a fight. Yoongi sat up with exaggerated reluctance, he rose and stretched, not to forget it was followed by curses after curses. He shoved the duvet off from his body and made his way outside groggily.

Yoongi’s nose was welcomed by the smell of food with the mixture of sweet laundry detergent. It was subtle which doesn’t bother him at all as it blends perfectly into the thin air. He came to the realization that it was the caretaker Ahjumma. Apart from them and the managers only the caretaker had the access to their place.

The smile crept farther across his face as he made his way to the kitchen, curiosity did kill the cats. Everyone was dying to meet this kind Ahjumma who had been working for good three years with them. Even though, it was odd to see her working with the presence of Bangtan members today he assumed his manager must have forgotten to remind her about it. They were aware of the nature of her contract with Bighit became the reason why they never had the chance to meet their caretaker.

It was his lucky day perhaps. He finally got to meet her after years and could thank her personally on behalf of others for all the yummy foods that she cooked for them.

Yoongi raised his eyebrows, scrutinizing the small figure before him carefully. Seul had her back facing him with her hair tied into messy bun ‘She looks young. Is she even the Ahjumma?’ Yoongi did not look convince after all. Judging from her back view, she appeared way too young contradicted to her title as and Ahjumma and some more he couldn’t see any wrinkle from her fair skin. He did not want to sound like a creep but it was the truth.

After gathering his courage, he walked up behind Seul carefully keeping a little distance between them not trying to scare her off “Excuse me?” he attempted in gaining her attention. Then he noticed the earphones plugged securely there with loud music could be heard clearly from it.

He tugged the earphone off from her ears causing her body jolted up in surprised. Seul turned to face Yoongi with her eyes wide open “What the fuck?” the words slipped out from her mouth. Unamused Yoongi, narrows his eyes in anger “YOU ARE NOT THE AHJUMMA!” his deep voice gravelled under his breath.

Seul found herself squirming under his scrutiny.

“Who…the.. fuck… are.. you?” Yoongi lurched forwards trapping Seul between the kitchen counter. Every word came from his mouth were dangerously low and disturbing. He cursed something low beneath his breath, something that she couldn’t understand. It sounded like a thick accent from Busan or Daegu to her. Whatever it was, she felt small in front of him.

The breath caught in her throat and her heart twisted at the stunned tone of his voice.

“Stay away from me…” she clutched onto the counter trying to escape from his gaze.

Shit, am I getting caught? She mentally slapped herself for her stupidity.

The corner of his lips twitched into a smirk “Who the fuck are you?” he inquired again this time the tone of his voice was harsher than a minute ago.

#bts fic #bts fanfic #min yoongi x oc #yoongi x oc #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook x oc #bts fluff #yoongi fluff #jungkook fic #bts series #bts idolau #suga x oc #jungkook idolau #btscaretaker #bts romance

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kiruuuuu · 5 years

Text

Doc/Lion oneshot in which Lion can’t keep his fingers off Doc, and Doc can’t keep his feet off Lion ;) (Rating E, pure PWP, ~4.3k words) - written for @icezero09!! Thank you again for commissioning me, I’m always stoked to be able to write for you :) Your prompts are a real treat 💖💖

Doc never looks more enticing than after a long day. There’s just – there’s something in his features, a softness where others might look haggard, and it must be his love for the job, his endeavours to help and protect his colleagues, his friends, the general populace. Instead of allowing the everyday stress to wear him down, he often takes moments to remind himself of the good he’s doing. The good he’s done. And so, his slightly sluggish movements carry a gentle quality, his rare smiles are full of gratitude and his aura one of grace, poise, even dignity. He relishes his time to himself, prefers drinking coffee or tea and reading over de-stressing with others, stretched out on the bed, bedside lamp casting warm shadows.

Lion stares at this beautiful man and all he wants to do is fuck him until he screams.

Listen.

He’s drawn to competence and authority already, and encountered a few nearly embarrassing moments when he and Doc were still at odds – the other Frenchman hissed a sharp command and Lion’s first instinct was to roll over, present his belly. Doc is overflowing with life experience and knowledge, and paired with his regular no-nonsense attitude, he’s so perfectly Lion’s type that if he were asked to describe his ideal husband, all he’d do is point at the other man. He oozes attractiveness in a way it makes Lion’s brain short-circuit, and it does things to other parts of his body he has trouble hiding more often than not.

It might be his lower brain speaking right now, however. The same brain which takes note of the sliver of skin visible between Doc’s boxers and his loose shirt, allowing for a few salt and pepper hairs to peek through, the brain which pays close attention to long legs and beautiful fingers, to the juicy-looking bulge, the prominent nose and the fierce scowl -

“No”, says Doc not for the first time.

“Please”, replies Lion, also not for the first time. His breathy pleas have turned into petulant whines but he doesn’t care – all he can focus on is Doc, Doc, in the perfect position to squirm around Lion kneeling between his legs, or maybe swallow Lion’s cock lazily while pretending to read, or get edged to oblivion and back, sweat beading up on his forehead and desperation rising -

“I’m tired. We can do it tomorrow, Olivier.”

He might as well postpone it to the next century. Need has replaced all the blood in Lion’s body, thrumming through his veins and setting him alight for no other reason than Doc being here, in front of him, waiting for Lion to shatter his composure in the most elating way. So far, he hasn’t even touched the object of his desire, merely kneeled down next to him on the mattress, bathing in his lover’s presence; but his body betrays his thoughts. His large erection is painfully visible in his underwear, straining to be set free, twitching now and then, whenever Lion briefly obsesses about one of the things he wants to do to Doc. “Please, Gustave”, he whispers, full of emotion.

It strikes a chord. Doc pauses, book sinking, frown softening. No victory yet, but he’s got his attention. When an attentive and appreciative gaze rakes over Lion’s mostly bare form, he stiffens, holds his breath, allows for his lover to take him all in and judge him – it’s something he found terrifying in the beginning and oddly reassuring now: Doc seems to constantly re-evaluate him and always decides he’s worth it. “Tomorrow”, his lover echoes, sounding weaker than before. He must’ve seen something he liked.

On instinct, Lion sways towards him, following breadcrumbs in the shape of an unconscious lip bite, a gaze flitting to and fro, dropping down to his boner repeatedly. He’s stopped by a foot on his naked chest, a warm sole obstructing him. He breathes against it, makes it rise in time with his inhales, and tentatively brushes over the calf with his fingertips.

They’re staring at each other, hypnotised. The air thickens around them, plump with implications and silent dares.

Doc indubitably meant it as a sign to leave him alone, but when Lion’s dick jumps once more, he seems to understand he’s achieving the exact opposite. His foot twitches, then wanders upwards. “You’re so needy, Olivier.” His voice is low and full of hesitant promises.

The slide of skin on skin drastically increases the temperature in the room. “I am”, he confirms quietly and tilts his head towards the questing limb. Their eyes are glued to each other and neither of them blinks; for once, Lion feels like the prey and not the predator. He’s not surprised he likes it, not when Doc fixes him with a look this intense.

“If I let you, you’d fuck me all night.” A toe drags down Lion’s lower lip and his breath hitches. “Every night.”

He’s never been this fucking aroused in his entire life. “I would”, he agrees and closes his lips around Doc’s big toe. The embers glowing brighter and brighter in coffee brown eyes now ignite with a flash, rising and rising the longer Lion sucks without breaking eye contact. He’s got him now. He sees Doc’s boxers swell in his peripheral vision.

“You’re indecent.” It’s not an insult. Doc pulls his foot free and travels back down, his wet skin leaving behind a cool trace doing nothing to calm the roaring inside Lion. “Utterly obscene.”

The moment Lion feels pressure against his rock hard cock, his eyelids flutter powerlessly. He resists the urge to falter, to fold, and remains perfectly upright despite the foot exploring his crotch roughly, yet his face heats up even more. It’s a mixture of normal stimulation and feeling stepped on, which is thrilling in its almost-humiliation, but since it’s Doc, there’s a warm security behind it too. Doc loves him. And right now, he’s in charge for once. Lion’s lips part in preparation of a moan which never comes, because when toes finally rub over his cockhead, the resulting desire exploding outwards closes up his throat.

Doc is electric and electrifying, even the lightest touch causes muscles to tense and passion to skyrocket – he contours Lion’s balls with the back of his foot, then drags the heel over his aching erection and elicits half-strangled gasps of disbelief. Lion wants him so much and yet is frozen in the moment, held at bay by the promise of more teasing. “You like this.” Not a question. Doc seems gleeful, filled with delight over having discovered something about Lion all by himself, something of which he likely wasn’t aware himself or else he would’ve divulged it readily, hoping for Doc to exploit his knowledge.

And he’s correct. Lion never knew how fucking sexy being touched like this could be, but he’s beginning to suspect that anything Doc does to him is the epitome of desirable as long as Lion’s in the mood. And is he ever.

“Please”, he repeats, the phrase empty but the intention clear as day. He needs more.

Displaying a smug smile, Doc discards the book fully and settles in more comfortably in the cushions, all without moving the leg connecting him to Lion. “What am I supposed to do with you, Olivier?”, he mutters, self-satisfied, and rubs over the entire length of Lion’s cock, making him shudder. He looks like a benevolent monarch, regal in his generosity, curious gaze leaving burning hot trails on Lion’s skin.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous”, he can’t help but choke out and Doc’s cool façade breaks to reveal a bright, genuine smile. Once again, the atmosphere shifts, Doc gives up some of his power despite still being mostly in control, and Lion understands they’re on one page now. They both want satisfaction. He’s already planning ahead, wondering in which position he should take Doc, how long he’ll spoil him before burying himself deep, and he can already see this helpless, devoted expression Doc always gets when he’s being invaded, so full of wonder and -

“Can you get off like this?”

His thoughts screech to a halt when his glans slips between Doc’s big toe and the second one. The sound he produces is ungraceful but Doc’s interest is piqued nonetheless – he massages his lover’s shaft with his sole, pressing down on all the right spots and, well, Lion figures the answer to his question is a resounding yes. He can basically feel the precum oozing out.

“Take off your underwear.”

The brief respite he gets while shedding the last piece of clothing does nothing to calm his blazing need, not when Doc mirrors him and reveals his own swollen cock, resting heavy on his belly and calling to Lion. He wants to taste it, touch it, worship it, but when he reaches out, he’s stopped by a playful: “Don’t touch me.” So he sits back, almost drooling, and eyes Doc’s nearly naked form longingly. His shirt rode up even more, putting his toned abdomen on display, and Lion would sacrifice a few fingers to be able to swirl his tongue through Doc’s navel right now.

When his lover grabs the lube from the nightstand, Lion experiences an almost Pavlovian reaction: lust shoots through him, white hot and blinding and all he can think about is how he’ll sink into delicious heat soon. He barely manages to get out a quiet yes before noticing Doc’s lifted eyebrow. Seems like it won’t be that easy after all.

“Needy”, Doc repeats and returns his foot, touching the tip of his toe to the glistening head quietly leaking in neglect and alright, they’re back to this – not that Lion is complaining, finally there’s skin on skin contact and the way his foreskin rolls over all the sensitive spots is addicting, but he still hasn’t taken his eyes off Doc’s proud erection. Testament of his attraction to Lion. It’s this thick and dark only because of him, only because he’s letting Doc give him a footjob and loving it.

Finally, he picks up on the expectant air around the other Frenchman and it clicks. So they’re playing a game today. “I’m a horny dog”, he breathes, voice breaking when the pressure increases to an almost unbearable level just for a second. “I should be punished.”

Doc’s grin is brilliant. “You should”, he concurs and spreads his legs. Fucking Christ. Lion’s gaze is glued to the entrance now visible, taunting, inviting. He can’t reach out and brush his fingertips over the rim, can’t lie down to lick over it like a kitten, can’t glide inside to unload deep, deep inside Doc – but he wants to. Dear God does he want to.

“Please, Gustave.” He’s a broken record at this point. Hips are starting to move, pushing back against the warm limb slowly driving him insane, seeking to increase the friction, wring every bit of pleasure out of the sensation he can, and the result is better, a lot better, but not good enough. His breath is stuttery and the small thrusts aborted; he’s trying hard to hold himself back.

“Is this what you want?” Doc reaches down and pulls a cheek apart, exposing himself even more obscenely and fucking hell, he’s cocky. Lion isn’t sure where Doc got this sudden boost of confidence but it’s blisteringly hot to see him sprawl like this, put himself on a silver platter. He does look delicious. Lion wants to devour him whole. “Hm? Is this it?”

A thumb touches the pink hole which pulses in return, constricts, and Lion can feel it around the base of his cock, the phantom sensation impossibly strong as his hips strain forwards against the unwavering resistance. “Yes. Fuck yes.” Words largely elude him over the sensual sight right before his nose.

And then he has to watch, frozen in disbelief, as Doc pours lube over his own fingers before returning them to their previous place; and with Lion staring, open-mouthed, Doc rubs over the rim slowly, coating it, and eventually pushes one digit inside.

Lion’s brain malfunctions.

This is too much to handle, Doc is too much to handle, and he just can’t. Following a moan, a muffled, despairing sound, Lion wraps a hand around Doc’s calf and keeps it in place as he thrusts his entire length along the soft sole, never once taking his eyes off the finger pushing in and out steadily. He needs this stimulation and so he takes it for himself, humps Doc’s foot like a drowning man and whimpers when the toes curl around his glans on every upstroke. The lazy smile on his true love’s face, the way Doc’s body accommodates all, his own finger and Lion’s sudden outburst, it’s exhilarating.

“Slow down”, Doc requests gently. “You’re meant to enjoy this.” But it’s impossible, how can he expect Lion not to run wild when he adds another finger so casually as if he’s used to it – and he can’t be, not like this, not when Lion insists on being the one to prepare him every time they have sex. He relishes in the noises he tickles out of his significant other, works him open with patience and adoration each time, teases and rubs and thrusts until Doc is red-faced from the effort of holding still, from slight embarrassment and love and anticipation. Doc is used to Lion’s fingers, not his own, so how can he smirk like the cat that ate the cream when he’s -

Doc moans, cock twitching.

And Lion fucking loses it.

He wasn’t even aware of how his pleasure spiked the moment Doc started fingering himself, didn’t really notice how fucking primed and ready he was, how affected by the consistent teasing – and if he’s honest, he doubted that a foot alone would turn him on this much. But the friction was delectable, and paired with the shapely leg attached to it, the entirety that is Doc lounging on the mattress, all honeyed words and fiery looks, it was entirely too much.

With a high-pitched whine, he zooms past the point of no return before he realises what’s happening and when he does, he’s horrified. He’s not going to shoot inside Doc if he comes now, he’ll just ejaculate all over his leg and shit, that’s embarrassing really. Scrambling to stop the process, he pushes the offending foot away, ceases all stimulation trying to prevent his climax, but it’s too late.

Or is it?

Because all that happens is his cock pulsing and sperm leaking out weakly, so instead of the usual fountain it’s nothing more than a sad dribble down his shaft as he shakes from suppressed need – it flows over his balls and drips down right onto Doc’s foot.

“I’m sorry”, Lion mutters, not only for the shitty orgasm but also for making a mess, and he wants to continue by offering compensation when Doc rumbles: “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

And this is when Lion realises that he’s still painfully hard. That his lust hasn’t disappeared. He raises his gaze to meet Doc’s and is shocked at its intensity, amazed when he sees his lover reflect the same amount of desire he’s projecting. They still want the same thing, if Doc’s scissoring fingers are anything to go by, but Lion feels raw and overstimulated after the not-quite orgasm, so he does the first thing that comes to mind.

He begins licking Doc’s foot clean. Simply raises it to his face, noting as his lover’s stormy eyes darken, and pushes his tongue between the wet toes. If his heartbeat wasn’t already going a mile a minute, it certainly does upon Doc adding a third finger inside himself. Even so, Lion dedicates himself to his task, lavishes the flesh before him in attention and enjoys every second of it. His fingertips dig into muscle and massage the arch dutifully while his mouth takes care of the rest: sloppily slurping up the mess he made, lapping at each toe individually and sucking on them in succession – he doesn’t stop until it’s clean again, and even then he keeps going. Doc watches him, grateful, entranced, and when Lion finishes by placing a soft kiss on every toe, some of the tension in his features melts into appreciation again.

“I love every part of you”, Lion says, because it’s true, and smiles when Doc’s cheeks deepen in colour. Finally, finally, his lover pulls his fingers free and motions for him to come closer, and Lion wastes no time practically diving on top of the other man to smash their lips against each other. The entire length of their bodies slots together like two puzzle pieces interlocking, and all this contact is the best kind of overwhelming after having been touched so little previously – they’re constantly in motion, rubbing their legs over each other, pressing their chests closer, running hands over every bit of skin they can find, and all the while Lion slowly takes Doc apart with his tongue. He explores Doc’s mouth as if it was the first time, ravishes it with abandon and swallows all the groans coming from their stiff cocks dragging over each other.

“Come on, Olivier”, wet lips mumble against his between mind-numbing kisses, “I want you inside.”

And fuck he does not need to say this twice. Lion wrestles his better half out of his shirt and longingly eyes the sculpted chest which he’d normally lavish in attention, but with the way his dick is thrumming impatiently, he simply doesn’t have the nerve. Before he can begin to look for the lube, Doc has already slicked up his hand again and wrapped it around Lion’s shaft, making him flinch momentarily. He’s sensitive, overly so, the pressure from before and the not-quite orgasm left it raw and throbbing, yet the callouses on Doc’s fingers feel heavenly despite the slight discomfort.

It feels like an eternity with Doc letting his fist glide up and down in a pace so slow it does nothing but heighten Lion’s arousal, and the entire time they keep making out deeply, tongues dancing, lips sucking on any piece of flesh before them. This is one of Lion’s favourite pastimes – just kissing, without any specific intentions. Kissing for the sake of kissing. They’ve started a few days off by just locking lips for an hour and seeing where it gets them, and more often than not both of them end up short of breath, vibrating with anticipation and hungry for more.

Doc’s hands are even more skilful than his feet in getting Lion off, and so he actually has to grab his lover’s wrist to prevent another too-soon climax, especially when deft fingers begin massaging the underside of his head, sending jolts of pleasure through his body. They separate just long enough to hold eye contact when Lion enters him, and he’ll never get enough of watching Doc’s eyelids flutter shut when the thick head breaches him fully, of the way his mouth falls open on a silent moan. Muscles relax, features go slack, and he’s Lion’s. Wholly his. This is the moment in which Doc gives himself up, hands himself over to his lover.

He’s incredibly hot and tight, welcoming the flesh pushing inside by clenching down on it in waves and prolonging the initial slide in – not that either of them mind. Lion buries his face in the crook of Doc’s neck and just breathes, focuses on the soothing smell, the blissful feeling of becoming one with the one he loves and the aimless patterns Doc draws on his back as they both bask in each other’s presence.

“You feel good”, Doc murmurs and it’s all the encouragement Lion needed. He latches on to the skin of his lover’s neck, sucking a bruise onto darker skin, and grinds against him with deliberate motions, rubbing deep. The resulting noise is music to his ears.

For a bit, he concentrates on shallow, hard thrusts while marking Doc all over, claiming him with light bites and more hickeys, but it doesn’t satisfy either of them. Lion’s cock is aching, rearing to be put to good use, and so he gives in to the primal urge.

Rising up, he fixes Doc with a sweltering gaze and plants a last sloppy kiss on his mouth before he does the very thing he’s been wanting to do every since he stumbled over Doc all spread out on their shared bed: fuck him until he forgets which day it is.

Their moans mingle in the space between them and all Doc can do, helplessly, is scramble for purchase, hold on to Lion’s sides as he’s rocked by every brutal thrust into his welcoming hole – he looks adorable, in a way, all caught up in the ecstasy of having his sweet spot hammered. Lion drags him onto his cock by the hips, meeting him halfway with his own and slams home mercilessly, bathing in the uninterrupted stream of noises Doc creates as usual: muffled groans, disbelieving gasps, throaty moans. Lion absorbs it all, lets it fuel the pulsating desire driving him.

“Hold your feet”, he demands in between sharp snaps of his hips eliciting strangled sounds, “yes. Just like that. Fuck yes.” And there’s another spike caused by the view in front of him, by Doc grabbing his own soles and holding his legs up and apart, pink skin turned towards Lion and his heavy dick beautifully showcased again. He’s lost in the moment, in the sensations – they both are, and Lion briefly has to struggle to keep up his brutal tempo.

Since he half-came earlier, his stamina is impressive, but it doesn’t only have advantages: he’s struggling to climb, trapped in perpetual stimulation which only just isn’t enough even though Doc clamps down on him so marvellously every time he rubs over his prostate, even though Lion can feel his glans getting caught on Doc’s rim on every thrust. His hair is sweat-soaked, Doc’s skin is shiny and despite the fast movements, he’s not quite there.

Seeking that last bit of pleasure which will push him over the edge, Lion begins worshipping Doc’s body as hardly anything turns him on more quickly than being allowed to explore, adore, map out his lover’s skin. Doc stretches towards his touch, melts below his fingertips and just won’t stop growling in satisfaction while Lion strokes over the expanse of his chest, teases the erect nipples and pushes a thumb between reddened lips. But even when Lion reaches between their legs and starts jerking the bone hard cock so familiar to him, even when Doc whines and tosses his head to the side and nearly loses grip of his feet, even when he’s shuddering in overstimulation, even when Lion’s heart is so full of devotion, he can’t come yet, can’t -

In frustration, he leans in and trails his lips along the pretty feet displayed for his pleasure, captures cute toes in his mouth and wraps his tongue around them, and in return, Doc produces the most desperate keen Lion has ever witnessed him make. With the next breath, he moans out Lion’s name, and holy fuck that’s it.

Bent over the love of his life, Lion almost collapses when the first wave of pleasure races through him like a truck. He goes blind for a second, clawing at anything in reach, probably leaving more bruises, and stutters out a loud groan as his climax ripples through him with so much intensity he briefly loses himself. At the edge of his consciousness, he registers Doc writhing under him, caught up in his own orgasm, and the realisation that they’re coming together has Lion’s abdomen tense up almost painfully, heightening the relief shooting through his system as he comes deep inside. They pant together, hold on to each other as they ride it out, moving in unison and relishing their release.

They keep moving slightly while coming down, cause gentle friction and reassure each other with soft touches, and it helps ground them. Lion trusts his lover fully and so he lets loose, allows for the post-orgasmic afterglow and exhaustion to settle in comfortably without having to worry about anything. Once their breaths and heartbeats have normalised, they exchange a grin and disentangle themselves: Doc lets his legs fall, Lion pulls out and gives Doc’s spent cock a last tug, and then they stretch out next to each other, sighing and interlacing their fingers.

A minute is spent in warm silence during which they both savour their bodies’ memories, and then Doc scoots closer to nuzzle Lion’s ear, his body probably cooling down and the milky stripes covering his chest aren’t helping. “So”, he purrs, sounding smug again, “you have a foot thing, hm?”

“I didn’t even know”, Lion laughs and kisses Doc’s nose. “But I’m fairly sure it’s just your feet.”

“Flatterer.”

“As if you mind.”

“You know I don’t.” Doc seems extremely pleased with himself. “Is this going to happen every time I just want to read after babysitting our co-workers all day?”

Lion snorts and gathers the other Frenchman into a tight embrace until their hearts beat against each other and their limbs are intertwined in a way they won’t unravel even when they sleep. “Are you implying you wouldn’t want that to happen?”

And the only reply he receives is an amused grin. Which, he notes not without significant self-satisfaction, is not a no.

#rainbow six siege #doc/lion #doc #lion #fanfic #oneshot #commissions #you've made a grave mistake in indulging him doc #wait until he asks for footsie during a meeting

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baby-fites · 5 years

Note

Dabi dick piercings! Dabi dick piercings!

ok i know the context of this so fic is under the cut

You ran an… Interesting yet lucrative business to say the least. Something you’d come to learn is that some criminals in this town care a whole lot about aesthetics, villains especially. You’d run a real parlor if you had the money for training, and it’s not like you don’t know what you’re doing, but statistically speaking criminals were just the most likely to want piercings and tattoos in the first place, so operating out of the spare room in your apartment made sense. Not that any of your clients knew you lived here, you kept the room sterile and almost pristine, the door to your bedroom well concealed, it could easily pass as a converted 1-room for business only. At least you hoped it could.

Today was slated for one of your most frequent, and you’ll be honest, favorite clients. He called himself Dabi, and must’ve had 20 or so holes in him from your needles alone, you hadn’t even counted the ones he’d had before you met him.

You smoothed down your shirt and wiped off the chair for what must’ve been the 15th time that day, and took a deep breath, Ok.

You were nervous. You could admit that to yourself, you’d never done… this before. Piercings sure but not this piercing. But it was ok! You were a professional. Not technically speaking, but in your mind. Totally professional. You could pierce an ear, you could pierce a dick. Same difference, you could pierce a dick just fine. Right? Right.

There was a knock on the door and you couldn’t stop yourself from jumping.

Right on schedule, 15 minutes late as always. You opened the door a little too quickly, taking in the site of the man leaning against the door frame. He blinked at you, offering only a shrug and a half-assed “Hey” before sauntering in and flopping himself down into the chair in the center of the room.

You turned, shutting the door behind you and stepping closer. You opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it, “Cleaned up before I got here, you don’t have to deal with anything that’s grosser than the rest of me.”

You opened and closed your mouth like a dead fish for a moment before deciding against telling him that nothing about him could disgust you. Instead you shrugged and said, “I wasn’t worried.” And hoped that was enough.

It was when he was tugging his pants down and you were washing your hands that your mind wandered back to the last time he was here- You’d come face to face with his shirtless form, checking over the dermals that patterned the edges of his marred skin. He’d done them himself, he told you, and you’d been awestruck that they hadn’t become infected. You’d gotten the chance to run your fingertips over his torso and seen the expanse of his unscarred skin prickle with goosebumps… All in a very professional manner of course. It was when you’d threaded the first barbell through his left nipple and he’d let out a groan more obscene than any porn audio you’d ever heard that the pretense of professionalism began to waiver. Pain. You’d told yourself. It was a sound of pain and nothing more. But even as you’d changed your gloves and cleansed the skin on the other side of his chest you knew that was an unconvincing lie. You’d finished the job remaining as detached as possible, but you couldn’t stop yourself from letting your eyes wander as he left, and you couldn’t help but notice the straining outline of his cock, hard and bulging against the fabric of his pants.-

You shook your head, forcing yourself back to the present and shutting off the water running over your hands. You snapped on a pair of latex gloves and stepped back to the side of the chair to get to work.

Oh. Yep. There was a dick. Right there in your workspace. Just out there. Ok.

You blinked, deciding to focus on your hands and tools instead. It didn’t help much, considering your hands and tools were about to be all over the dick that was just out there attached to a hot- no. It was fine. This was fine. Nothing you couldn’t handle.

You looked down to see him staring, looking half bored half expectant, and you realized you hadn’t moved at all in about thirty seconds. Righting this as quickly as possible, you pumped the foot-powered lever to raise the chair up, putting him at ideal cock-handling level. Or something like that.

Finally, tentatively, one gloved hand gently pulled back the loose layer of foreskin from the head of his cock while the other brought a cleansing wipe to the revealed skin. The offending appendage twitched at your touch, and the man attached to it winced at the uncontrollable response. Still, he said nothing. He rarely did, when you worked on him. A few words before, fewer words after, but almost none during the process. You were spending longer cleaning than you needed to, you realized as your eyes flitted up to find his gazing at you with an intensity you’d never seen from him.

You reached blindly for the marker before tearing your stare from his and successfully grasped your target, along with the small ruler you had especially for lining up marks like this. You were finally able to hit a bit of a methodical stride in your work, measuring a centimeter down and marking the center of the central seam of the skin, then measuring across to mark either side as evenly as possible. You took a deep, somewhat relaxed breath, this was beginning to feel like any other job.

You failed however, to notice the glaring difference between this and any other job; the fact that your client was already half hard in your hand.

You discarded your ruler and pen, took your forceps from their current place in an alcohol jar, and raised the skin you’d marked. Satisfied with the alignment, you looked to Dabi for assurance of placement. “This look alright? I could go farther down if you want but-”

“S'perfect.” He cut you off again, his voice strained as if he was choking on his words, naively, or maybe willfully, you passed this off as nerves.

You nodded at him, looking back to the task at hand and propping the handles of the forceps against his thighs, before taking the thoroughly cleaned needle and alcohol bathed cork from the table beside you, and line them up with the dots.

You knew better than to count to three with him, you’d offered once and he’d seemed offended by any notion of forewarning. Instead, you pushed the needle through his skin.

“FUCK!” The cry echoed through the room, his hands scrambled against the armrests of the chair, and this time you couldn’t find it in yourself to ignore the throbbing pulse his cock gave under your hands. Of course, by now, you were too far in to stop.

Practically holding your own breath, you removed the cork and swabbed down the exposed end of the needle with alcohol before slowly pulling it back.

Dabis head was thrown back with a growl, and certainly not one of pain and pain alone. His nails dug into the armrests hard enough to tear the cheap pleather they were made of, and his breath was coming in heavy pants through his teeth. You quickly found denial growing harder to maintain by the second.

The jewelry itself, cleaned and lubricated, was the next step. You remembered his specific request for an externally threaded barbell, and, though you’d found it odd at the time, you were beginning to understand his reasoning.

His every exhale was a loud groan as you pushed the textured metal through the newly formed hole, and once you'd screwed on the ball-end you both realized it was far too late to pretend this never happened.

He breathed in ragged gasps, still holding the chair in a death grip, the material under his hands beginning to smoke as his cock twitched wildly in your hands.

He rasped out another, quiet, “fuck…” And it was over. He was cumming, spilling over your fingers and forceps and newly wounded skin that should definitely not have cum dribbling over it! But you couldn’t stop him, he couldn’t stop himself at this point, whether he’d wanted to or not.

His eyes stayed squeezed tightly shut, even after the high wore down, and he was muttering something about having such a fucking hair-trigger it wasn’t even funny. Functioning on auto-pilot, you wiped him down again, you weren’t exactly sure what the consequences of semen on freshly stabbed skin were, but you didn’t exactly want to make him find out.

Finishing the task and being forced to address the situation, you cleared your throat as conspicuously as possible, and he finally opened his eyes to look at you.

“You’re uh. Good to go,” you stated as calmly as someone in your position could, “just keep it clean like you would any other piercing ok?”

Dabi blinked, formatting whatever the hell you just said. “Really?” He raised an eyebrow in slight accusation, “That’s it?” No ‘get out and never come back’? No 'that was the most pathetic, disgusting display I’ve ever seen!’? Nothing?

“Yeah…” You continued, “I mean a bit more intensively- sanitize it every hour or so when you’re awake, no swimming or heavy exercise or uh-” your voice cracked, “sexual activity. For about two months. Call me if anything seems off, or…” You hesitated, your eyes shifting to the floor, “If you want another job done.” The words ran together as you said them, but still, you’d managed to get them out.

Slowly, Dabi nodded, standing with a slight wince. “Sure thing, [L/N], I’ll do that.” And without another word, he was gone.

#Anonymous #unsafe for the workplace #Dabi #dabi x reader #bnha dabi

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jimlingss · 5 years

Text

Jungle Park [22]

Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23

➜ Words: 5.6k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

Rarely do cases go on trial. Unlike most lawyer-related and crime television shows, family law has much less action than criminal or civil law. The most exciting things that happen are arguments that break out during mediation or reading case files and seeing all the things that transpired. Divorce can get ugly, that’s for sure. But while you rarely get to see Hoseok in a court setting duking it out with his opponent, there’s still a lot of times when you get to see his passionate side. Like now. “God, have you tried this pineapple juice?! How did they even get this into a coconut. It’s spectacular! You have to try this!” Okay, to be fair he wasn’t being passionate about his work right now, but it’s still cute and endearing. And you might just be a little whipped for this nerd. “Isn’t this supposed to be a business trip?” You have your elbow propped up on the counter of the bar, cheek in your hand as you stare out at the ocean that reflects the afternoon sunlight, blinding your vision. “It is.” “Then why are we on the beach drinking pineapple juice?” “Why not?” Hoseok smiles, all too casual in sunglasses, taupe cargo shorts and a loose flannel that screams he’s a tourist. No one would ever expect he’s a hot shot lawyer in this get-up. “Didn’t you tell me to loosen up and that it’s not always about work?” “Yeah, but this just doesn’t feel like a business trip…..at all.” “The trial finished early.” Jung Hoseok sips on his coconut, looking both cocky and comical at the same time. It was definitely a bizarre sight to behold. “I can’t tell you the details because of confidentiality, but the opponent may or may not have accepted our terms and now the father may or may not have his kids during weekends and thankfully those kids don’t or do have to be taken by the government.” The beaming sun pierces in your eyes too painfully and you look away. “...you know, Jung.” “Yes?” “I’m kind of impressed you managed to bring me here since I literally have nothing to do with your trial.” The only people that were here was Taehyung, Seokjin, Naul, and then the two of you. It’s miraculous that the lawyer snagged you, an HR manager, to be here with him. Hoseok merely shrugs. “I may or may not have a way with words.” “I’m starting to feel like your sugar baby.” The man’s mouth pulls into a smirk. He winks and leans closer until your knees and shoulders are bumping each other’s. “How much would I have to pay to spend a night with you, sweetheart?” “Double my salary and we’ll talk,” you whisper back to him in a low voice, starting to like the sound of this. His arrogant act almost crumbles into a fit of laughter, but he manages to keep it up. “How about I make this trip all-inclusive and you get free meals and you can spend two days in a hotel suite with me?” You’re the first to break, laughing and pushing him away before the bartender walks past and really thinks there’s some kind of wild arrangement going on. “How can the firm afford this many trips?” “I’m loaded, y’know.” Hoseok is being overly flirtatious and greasy — maybe the heat’s getting to him. But you hate that it’s actually working and that he knows it too. “In my wallet and in my pants.” “Oh my god.” You snort. “You’re ridiculous.” “Does that make me more appealing to you?” “Would you really want me to be a gold digger?” “You could be whatever you want and I still wouldn’t mind.” Hoseok openly ogles at your lips and your face hurts from your widening grin. “What happened to being professional?” He moves away on his own accord, laughing and throwing his arm over the back of your chair, returning to sipping on his coconut through the straw. “We stopped being professional the moment we both agreed to this. The attempt is still nice though.” Your brow is lifted and you quip, “Agree to what?” “You being my girlfriend and me being your boyfriend.” “Hold up, hold up. I never agreed to that,” you point out, bringing this conversation to a halt. “I agreed to us dating.” “And isn’t dating being boyfriend and girlfriend.” “You make it sound so juvenile, like we’re high schoolers.” “We’re still young, babe.” “Yeah?” You play into his greasy act, smiling and staring at him like you’re being seduced by a stranger at a bar in the middle of your vacation. But then you deadpan, “Tell that to your declining eyesight.” “Hey.” Hoseok sulks. “My eyesight is still good. At least I’m not blind like Namjoon.” “Didn’t you tell me your back was hurting last week?” You reach over, stealing a sip of his drink. It’s indeed strange to be having pineapple juice from a coconut, but it’s very refreshing and makes you feel rejuvenated. “That was because you blew out my back.” You nearly spit out your mouthful. It ends up sliding down your throat into the wrong pipe while you do a double take, and you end up in a wheezing and coughing fit. Hoseok’s entertained watching you die, ignoring the old couple a few seats away who was eavesdropping and are now mortified. When you manage to see the light again, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, barely containing yourself. “Why are you like this?!” “Why do I like you so much?” Hoseok grins, spinning around in the bar stool like a child with too much sugar. “Good question, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re too cute, too pretty, and too fun to tease.” You slump into a pout. “You’re mean.” “I know.” Still, Hoseok leans over and plants a kiss right on your cheek. // The three others decided to go on a sightseeing tour, a package offered by the hotel at a discount. But you and Hoseok opted out. He simply brushed it off by saying he wanted to finish something up and you said you just weren’t feeling up to it. In reality, you both ended up walking by the beach instead, having a little date on your own. You felt guilty for lying to them, but Hoseok made it all worth it. “Hey.” He smiles, approaching them in the lobby, running into the group by coincidence. “How was it?” “A lot of fun!” Taehyung already appears tanner, skin radiating with a healthy glow. “I got this hat, like it?” “It’s nice.” You nod, admiring the round straw hat. “Glad you got out and saw some sun too, Jung,” Naul notes in approval. “We thought you’d be cooped up all day working.” “Nah. Y/N and I went to grab some of those fruity drinks the front desk were raving about earlier,” he stretches the truth without batting an eyelash. “It was pretty good. You guys should try some. And I finished all my work earlier, so I’m free for the rest of the day.” “Are you guys doing anything now?” you ask them. “Do you want to eat somewhere later?” “Actually…” Jin clears his throat, arms behind his back and revealing what he’s been hiding. They’re two slips that look like movie tickets, but they’re bright blue like the ocean. The paralegal tries to play it off nonchalantly as he sweeps his fingers through his hair. “I might've won two vouchers for a spa day earlier.” Taehyung laughs and lifts his hands straight into the air, extending his arms above his head. “And he’s taking me! We also won tickets to watch a show tonight too!” Hoseok’s impressed and he takes a look at the tickets. “Wow. You guys are lucky, huh?” “Sorry.” Taehyung leans on him, smushed cheek on his shoulder and grinning mischievously. “Jin already promised to take me, boss. You can come too, but you’ll have to pay yourself.” “It’s okay.” He hands them back. “I’m going to my hotel room to rest,” Naul says, telling them about her plans. “I’m exhausted.” “She fell asleep on the bus.” Jin hitches his thumb to the woman, appallment evident in his low timbre. “Didn’t enjoy the last half of the journey.” “I’m old, I know.” She pats him on the back. “You don’t have to keep saying it.” You nod. “Looks like you all have plans then.” “Yup.” Taehyung shifts slightly, brown irises shining in his rounded eyes. “Did you want to do something with us?” “No, it’s okay. We always have tomorrow morning. Hoseok and I might head out again after freshening up and using the washroom. There’s still a lot to see, so don’t worry about us and enjoy your spa trip.” “Sounds like a plan.” Jin smiles. “Our appointment is starting soon.” “Same with mine.” Naul already has her hotel card in her hand, envisioning the bubble bath and raiding the minibar for a nice drink. In the meanwhile, no one notices the way you exchange expressions with Hoseok. You’re satisfied either way as long as you’re with him. // The diner is small with few patronages. The fryer is heard sizzling from the kitchen, bell chiming every time the front door opens, and an old lady serves you with a smile, yelling at the cooks from where she stands. It’s a cozy atmosphere, a place you would imagine existing in a smaller town. “Did Sunyi and Yoongi end up signing that form?” Hoseok cuts into his strawberry waffles with his knife, piercing it with his utensil and dipping it in the sweet syrup. “They signed it.” You slice your own fluffy pancakes, holding it out and he eats it off your fork. “But apparently it’s complicated and they’re in the process of figuring it out.” He hums, brows raising and sending an approval look at the taste. “I’m shocked that they’re...together.” “You can never be as shocked as I am,” you snicker and he cuts his waffles again, feeding you. You stuff it in your cheek, sweetness exploding on your tongue, voice muffled as you chew, “but Sunyi complained about Yoongi every single day. I would’ve never guessed they were involved with each other like that.” He agrees, exasperated at the thought. “And for two years?” “Shh…” You giggle, ducking your head. “Keep your voice down.” The corner of his lip tugs. “No one’s here.” “Okay, yeah, but Yoongi never exposed us so we shouldn’t expose him either. Ah.” You open your mouth, twirling your fork in front of his own, this time feeding him and returning the favour. Eventually, you’re both walking outside again. The breeze is cool, kissing against your warm cheeks, carding through the strands of his black hair. You’re both holding hands, fingers laced together, arms swinging back and forth, and making you laugh. “Do you think they’re a good match?” you ask in curiosity. “You’ve known them for so long...” “To be frank...I do. Yoongi’s similar to me, but he’s only passionate about selective things. I haven’t seen him so happy to tease someone before in my life. They’re cute together,” Hoseok muses. “And what about us?” You glance at him, blatantly fishing for compliments and being shameless about it. “Do you think we’re cute together?” “We’re the cutest obviously because you’re the cutest.” He boops your nose, making a high-pitched sound and you giggle, shoulders tense and cringing at his gestures. But much to your dismay, Hoseok adds on, “also, I’m the cutest.” He puckers his lips, quirking his head to the side. “Uh-huh. So cute it’s nauseating.” The fountain show begins and you momentarily stop to watch. The water spritz up into waving streams, glittering with the multicoloured lights flashing from below. It creates a mist in the air, following with the rhythm of the music playing from the stereo. There are children gathered around with their parents, big eyes amazed at the show, friends and other couples around too. “Are you cold?” “Only a little bit,” you murmur. Jung Hoseok gets closer to you. He bends his knees until his head is propped on your shoulder, arms coming to wrap around your frame before clasping his hands together. The man leans against you, giving you a side-hug, affectionate in his movements and you melt into his body heat. It’s comforting and calming, the same words you would use to describe his existence to you. “Are you ever bothered by it?” “By what?” he asks, matching your tender tone. You don’t notice that instead of looking at the water show, he’s staring at you softly. Your features are illuminated by the faint lights and it’s so pretty, Hoseok can’t keep his eyes away. “That you don’t remember?” “No...not anymore. Why? Are you bothered?” “No. I’d be more bothered if you were bothered.” He grins, slight dimples marking into each cheek. “Sometimes I feel guilty that I don’t remember, but then I look over and you’re here. We have the rest of our future together, right?” A slight noncommittal noise is made in the back of your throat, and you finally look at him, smiling. It sounds exactly like something he would say. “To be honest, it doesn’t feel all that different. You’re not that different from how you used to be.” “And how was I?” he asks while you walk away from the ice-cream parlor, mind still lingering on the topic. Hoseok’s eyes are pinned on your mouth and he motions for you to open. When you part your lips, he feeds you a spoonful of his chocolate ice-cream. “Bright, energetic, outgoing…..annoyingly obnoxious.” “Me?!” He gasps, wholly offended. “Annoyingly obnoxious?!” You laugh, holding your hand out to placate him. The man is still not satisfied until he leans down and chops on part of your vanilla ice-cream cone. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” “You’re beginning to sound like my sister.” Hoseok pouts, eating his own cold treat in his cup, scooping it up and eating with his mouth cutely downturned. “Are you talking to her these days?” “No. I should though. How is she?” “Fine. As usual. I don’t know what she’s doing these days aside from causing trouble. But speaking of which, I think my parents want you to visit soon. They keep asking me about you.” “Have they found out about us?” “No. They haven’t.” Your shoulder bumps into his and you smile. “Then...should we tell them?” Hoseok matches your smile, eyes slightly crinkled. “If you want to.” After discarding the cup, spoon, and napkins, you both wash your hands. When you leave, he’s waiting outside the washroom for you, staring up at the night sky. But when you appear in his peripheral vision again, he eases and his warm eyes are all too inviting. “We should tell them,” you decide. “It’s not good to keep your parents in the dark. I’m sure they would be happy anyways.” “Okay.” He grins. “I’m just worried they’re going to cast me aside for you again.” “Well it’s understandable. They’ve always loved me. Don’t you know how charming I am?” Laughter bubbles from his throat. He never once disagrees and reaches down to hold your hand again, walking off with no destination in mind. “How does the weekend sound or is that too soon?” “I’m fine either way. I miss Mickey too.” You turn your head, hesitating for a mere second before you decide to tell him, “you know...he used to be our dog.” “What? Really?” “Yeah, but we gave him to your parents before we moved and you went to law school.” It’s quiet for a moment, Hoseok deep in thought. You wonder if it was a mistake bringing up the past that he doesn’t remember, if somehow he’ll end up feeling guilty for forgetting again even if it’s not his fault. But then— “Maybe we should take him back.” “No.” You smile, poking his shoulder. “I’d feel bad for your parents. We can’t just take him back. Plus, he seems pretty happy living with them.” “That’s true. But it’s no wonder he ran and jumped on top of you.” You nod, looking over the horizon. The dim light of the stars appear ever so slightly, all spilling across the black sky if you stare for long enough and allow your eyes to adjust. Beside you, Hoseok slows down his pace, admiring them as well. “I think we should visit my mom too. She might not say it, but I know she’s been lonely these days.” “Should we invite her to come with us this weekend then?” he suggests. “Didn’t you say my mom and your mom were friends?” “Yeah…” You smile, happy that he remembers and is considerate enough to come up with the idea. “She’d like that.” The pair of you continue on your stroll until he comes to a stop. Hoseok squats down on the side of the road and then he picks up a flower and jumps back up again. He holds the small daisy up. “Look! It’s me!” You’re not impressed. “It’s you?” “It’s me! See?” he happily announces, showing it to you. The delicate flower has white petals, and a bright yellow center that reminds you of the colour of the sun. It’s cute and you melt into a sheepish smile, about to agree just to placate him. But then Hoseok’s eyes flicker up and he gently tucks the flower behind your ear, right by your hair. “Wow...now there are two flowers side by side.” “Oh my god,” you groan, pulling away and cringing while he laughs boisterously, quickening his pace to catch up to you. “Why? Am I wrong?” “You’re too cheesy. It’s giving me cavities.” “But you like it!” “Be thankful I like you because I wouldn’t be able to do this for anyone else.” “What do you mean?” Yet, as dumb and cute as Hoseok likes to act, you hate that he’s right. He could probably beg you to shave your head (and not like you would give in since you’re not a spineless idiot), but he’d get away with it. He could throw you into a flash mob right now, make you dance, and at the end of the day, you’d still be with this fool. And that’s why you’re watching him fiddle with this baby blue bike that he’s just rented, like watching a two-year old about to cause chaos and doing nothing to stop it. It’s just too endearing to watch him this excited and upbeat. “C’mon, get on, Y/N!” You look at the tiny rear passenger seat, sighing before getting on. “Do you even know how to ride a bike?” “Course, I do! Learnt when I was five,” he boasts like it’s so impressive, having no clue just how hard it was going to be to pedal when there are two people on. But Jung Hoseok manages. It feels like you’re in your youth again, jumping on the bike of some neighborhood boy and being taken for a ride. It’s like you’ve returned back to high school, a period before you even knew of his existence, when you were still young and naive and you didn’t know what you wanted to do. A part of you wishes you met him during that time. The two of you probably would’ve never been high school sweethearts though. You did your own thing back then and he would’ve been that outgoing kid that was all too noisy — the biggest interaction you both would’ve had is you sending a glare across the room. You quietly laugh at the thought of it. “Y/N, let’s play a game.” You hear him above the cool breeze whipping through your hair. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, head pressed against his firm backside, but you lift yourself up to make sure he hears your response. “If your game is leaving me on the side of the road, I’m going to push you off the bike right now to save myself.” A soothing laugh tinkers into the crisp air. “No, why would I do that?” Hoseok inhales a breath. It’s an empty bike path, no one ahead or behind you at this time of night. The wide ocean is to your left, waters black but illuminated by city lights and reflecting the tall buildings and cityline. “Let’s play a game. Let’s pretend…..this is twelve years ago. But the difference is that I never left you and I never got into that accident.” “Twelve years ago….?” “Ready? Let’s start.” He slows his pedaling, sitting tall while your hands are still holding onto his waist, eyes pinned to the magnificent view. “We were in the same class together twelve years ago. How old were we again?” “Twenty-one.” “Wow, we’re old now, aren’t we?” “You’re the old one, not me.” The corners of your lips raise meekly, shoulders slightly loosening from their tension. “It was a finance class, right? You sat next to me?” “We sat next to each other every day.” “Then how was your first impression of me?” he asks with a tinkering laugh, sounding all too joyful and curious, mixing with the clinking sound of the metal chains when he stops pedaling and uses the built momentum to push you both forward. “To be honest….I didn’t think anything of you.” “What?! Was it not love at first sight?” “No,” you manage through a fit of giggles. “You were just another face in the class of three hundred.” “Unbelievable. Because I know for a fact that I would’ve taken one look at you and fallen head over heels.” “Oh, yeah right!” You hit his shoulder lightly and the bike teeters from side to side, causing more giggles to ensue. “I would!” Hoseok defends. “I would’ve taken one glance at you and I would be breathless. My entire world would stop. It was probably the most romantic thing in the universe, just like all the movies. We’d beat Romeo and Juliet.” Hoseok continues with a grin, listening to your laugh behind him, “And here on your side, you thought nothing of me! I’m offended!” “You’re so full of shit!” The lawyer lets out half a scoff and the other half is a laugh. You’re scared he might stop steering and you’ll both fall over, so you hug him tighter, listening to the sound of his melodic voice. You savour his warmth, his smooth timbre, lulled by the lights sparkling from the shops, a mosaic of hues fading together like watercolour paints. “Who was the one who spoke first?” “You did.” “See? If I was the one who talked to you first, then it means I was probably already in love!” “I think you asked me for the previous class’ notes cause you missed it.” “It was a tactic, a tactic!” he tries to convince you. Eventually, the two of you get off the bike and he walks it beside him, enjoying the stroll even if you’re a bit lost and not sure where the hotel is anymore. There’s still a slight bustle on the other side of the street, a few on the shore and enjoying games. It’s an atmosphere worthy to get lost in. “—and after I bailed on meeting you at the library, you sent me a huge angry text message. I had to scroll through the entire thing, that’s how long it was. I was so scared.” You continue to recall the memories, one after another spilling from your lips, pouring all out without restraint. And Hoseok listens, providing his own commentary and thoughts, humming along. “It’s part of the push and pull tactic. You gotta show them your cold side and then your warm side. Jimin taught me.” “You didn’t even know Jimin then!” Your cheeks ache, lips upturned and unable to be put down. “He sent me a telepathic message from the future,” he says to you so confidently. You tell him about the time you ran into him at the library, the time you didn’t end up meeting him to work on the project, the time he held your hand and you were so surprised that you thought it was an accident, the first date, the first time he kissed you. You end up recalling each and every one of these memories — memories that you thought were a burden….but they aren’t. They feel like fun stories, tales that you remember were never sad in the moment until you made them that way. You recount each of them to him, some fuzzier than others and when you can’t recall the details, he fills in the blanks with his own silly thoughts, like how he wasn’t mad at you or that he probably wanted to kiss you a hundred times more. You talk about history and he talks about the future. “And then when we were twenty-five…” An inhale is stolen through your lungs and when you look at him, he already knows and squeezes your hands comfortingly. “That was the year we got engaged with each other.” He leans in with a soft smile, affectionately brushing his forehead against yours before pulling away. “Thankfully, it was just a pregnancy scare because I’m sure neither of us were ready for kids yet.” You snicker, agreeing. “Yeah.” “You were pretty stressed about planning the wedding and I was too, but it got a lot better when we handed it off to both our moms who took a hold of it,” Hoseok’s ranting and you listen to every syllable of his story, believing this fantasy as reality. His side of the story that you never knew, he fills in with whatever he wishes. The gray areas become coloured, no longer a mystery held over your own head. “Of course, they would’ve taken too much control, but we were able to pick out the little things, like the colour schemes and the kinds of flowers we wanted.” “Daisies.” “A bunch of me’s.” A rush of air comes out of your nose, too tired to laugh, but finding it still funny. “Yellow and violet colour scheme.” “I like that,” he notes in approval before moving on. “And then when we finally got married, it would be such a relief that it was all over. Not that you were turning into bridezilla or anything….but you were kind of turning into bridezilla.” “Well, of course, I want our wedding to be perfect.” “I’m just happy that we’re getting married.” Suddenly, he stops. Hoseok halts his footsteps and turns you to face him. He swallows hard, eyes locked into your irises before flickering down to your mouth. He leans down and in, tilting his head timidly and planting a kiss on your lips. It’s soft and hesitant, feather-light. It’s as if you were standing at the aisle, under the arch with people watching, sealing the union and promise of forever with a kiss. When he pulls away, a smile is on his face, watching as your eyes flutter open so slightly and you stare up at him through your lashes. You’re so beautiful, he feels an urge to kiss you again. But Hoseok represses it, pulling you along, walking and listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the sandy shore. “Our honeymoon was a nightmare.” “How so?” Something blooms in your chest, butterflies tickling your stomach and you curl your fingers around his tighter, feeling him squeeze back in response. “We got stuck at the airport overnight because our flight got delayed, but thank god we made it.” “And where were we?” Hoseok sings a low note, considering all the places in the world before settling on one destination as he returns the rental bike. “Somewhere in French Polynesia.”’ “Fancy.” “You deserve the best.” He flashes a grin and a wink. “We’d spend a lot of time by the beach.” “Like right now?” “Like right now,” he confirms. “We’d take a helicopter ride around the island and go to a vanilla bean farm and pick fresh vanilla beans for my dad and your mom. You’d probably tell me I’m picking up too many seashells after it takes up three quarters of our luggage. But also, let’s be honest here, we wouldn’t leave our little, private overwater bungalow that often.” The mischief twinkling in his orbs only makes you give him a knowing look. “Why not?” “Well, until we break the bed and we have to call the front desk, I’m not sure I would ever want you to leave.” You expected nothing less from the man but the thought of getting maintenance and having to switch rooms because of a broken mattress makes you slightly embarrassed. While strolling together, you lean against him. Jung Hoseok is detailed, carefully describing year after year, filling in the missing time of your lives. And it sounds all too nice. “—even though Jung and Park would’ve been running for three years, Jimin wouldn’t mind us taking time off together.” “Are you sure he can handle running the office without his partner and without his HR rep?” “He can handle it and if anything, you could hire a few more people before we take the break. Didn’t you say you wanted to run an entire HR empire and be their ruler?” “I never said that.” You scoff, lightly smacking his chest. “I only wanted an assistant.” “Sure, have your little, hot, young assistant.” The way he jokingly emphasizes each word makes it sound sexual and you don’t know if you want to smack him again or if you want to laugh. “But let me tell you, I won’t be jealous.” “Why? Wouldn’t you have gotten bored of me and found me stale after being married for so long?” “Course not!” Hoseok jumps up, blinking his big eyes, and being playful all at once. “I’m just saying I wouldn’t be threatened since you’re mine. And I’d never be bored of us. Every time I’d look at you, I’d be blown away.” “That sounds exhausting,” you consider it realistically. “You’d be blown away constantly.” He laughs. “But you being pregnant would make me even more blown away!” “Wait. How many kids are you even planning? We still haven’t had this talk and we already have a kid on the way! And we’re still paying mortgage on the new house! Shouldn’t we be more responsible?” “Okay, okay. Five.” “Five?! Are you out of your mind?!” You’re almost screeching, for once being as loud as he naturally is. “You’re going to have to put insurance on my uterus!” Hoseok grins, hugging your side again. “How many kids do you want?” “Three. Or actually two seems like a good number.” “One girl, one boy?” “If it’s possible.” You nod, finding it the right number for a picture perfect family. “How about three girls?” Hoseok muses. “You don’t want any boys?” “I’d like it if they were like you,” he says. “Three little angels with mommy’s personality and daddy’s beautiful looks. What do you think?” Even if you’re joking around, you send an accusatory expression his way. “You wouldn’t want them to look like me?” “Well, if they’re too much like you, my heart might just explode with love. But I’d love them regardless, so looks like I’m getting a heart attack either way.” He dramatically shuts his eyes, placing a hand over his chest like he’s about to go into cardiac arrest. You keep walking ahead, mumbling about how ridiculous he is, but your smile is unmistakable. At the end of the lovely night, you both manage to make your way back to the hotel, tired and sleepy. Neither Taehyung, Naul, or Seokjin are around to notice how you sneak into Hoseok’s room. It feels like you’re breaking the rules or back when you sneak into each other’s houses during spring break without either of your parents knowing. You slip off your shoes, exhausted after spending the entire day outside, and you collapse on the plush bed side-by-side with Hoseok as he finishes writing up the future. “—and then at one hundred years old, we would die together, just like this.” “Like this?” You turn and he does too, both facing each other in the peacefulness of the room. “Together. Peacefully sleeping in bed….or like that old couple in the titanic.” You prop yourself up onto one elbow, eyeing him. “Isn’t this too morbid?” “Is it?” The corner of his mouth lifts and spreads into a grin. Hoseok opens his arms and rolls right on top of you. You’re stuck in your spot and he laughs, tickling your sides slightly until you wheeze and beg for mercy. Then he calms down, nuzzling against you like some kind of cuddle bug. “I mean, we’d be reborn and we could do it all over again.” “Are you sure you want to spend lifetime after lifetime with me?” You stare into his eyes, murmuring from your slightly parted lips, caught off guard with what a hopeless romantic he is. The man lifts his arms and holds your cheek in his palms, legs on either side of you. He leans down, pecking your lips once gently, finding no need to deepen the kiss and seek something different. “It would be my absolute pleasure, Y/N.” You melt into a sheepish smile and after another extended moment of silence, of feeling his body pressed against yours, his scent surrounding your frame, you muse, “It sounds nice.” “Which part?” “All of it.” “I’m glad.” Hoseok finally lays down, slightly crushing you, but he places his ear over chest, right where your heartbeat is. He shuts his eyes and listens. “It’s my goal to make you happy.” You wrap your arms around his head, holding him close, becoming more and more sleepy. “I’m very happy, Jung Hoseok.” And you mean it. You’re happy that he’s here. Happy that he’s in your life again. Happy that you’re both slowly, but surely going to make all these dreams and fantasies into reality.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fluff #hoseok scenario #UGH this fluff #get it out outta here

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ripley95 · 5 years

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OC Interview

I was tagged by @kenshi-vakarian7 and @rpgwarrior4824 for the OC interview meme. Thank you so much!

I’ve been putting off a ton of other OC memes that mostly @rpgwarrior4824 tagged me in and maybe some others? It’s been so long I can’t even remember, so sorry if I’ve missed anyone! Rather than flooding everyone’s dash with other OC memes, I’m going to do the interview, and add all of the other memes below the cut.

I’ll be doing all of them for Jane Shepard from one of the stories I’m currently writing.

Also, if anyone wants to do a huge OC master post like this with any or all of the memes involved, feel free to consider yourself tagged.

1. What’s your name?

Jane Shepard

2. Do you know why you are named that?

My parents were looking for something traditional. Something about remembering where we came from, having connections to Earth. I’m not really quite sure about their rationale behind that.

3. Are you single or taken?

Single? I’m not really sure how this is pertinent information.

4. Have any abilities or powers?

My tactical cloak has gotten me out of a few sticky situations. I guess that counts, right? Not everyone knows how to use those effectively.

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

I’m afraid that goes against my job description.

6. What’s your eye color?

Green.

7. How about your hair color?

Brown.

8. Have any family members?

My mom, Hannah Shepard. She’s a Rear Admiral now, you know. She’s pretty distinguished in her own right.

9. Oh? How about any pets?

I have a hamster. His name is Pongo. I have some fish too... actually, I should probably double check that one.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like.

Intrusive and unnecessary interviews.

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

I do like my model ships. There’s something about the process of putting them together that’s almost meditative.

12. Have you hurt anyone in any way before?

Hasn’t everyone?

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

I’m sorry, you do know who I am right? I will say, that I don’t take that for granted. I always try my best to avoid death, but sometimes it’s unavoidable.

14. What kind of animal are you?

A human? Honestly, I don’t even understand the point of most of these.

15. Name your worst habits?

Apparently, indulging reporters, for what? Some kind of romance magazine I’m guessing?

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Of course. My mom’s been a great example for me. She raised me by herself for most of her life, and she’s always tried to do her best by me. She’s a great role model. Then there’s Admiral Anderson, but, maybe let’s not talk about him.

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

I really don’t see how this is any of your business.

18. Do you go to school?

Not anymore. I was raised going to the Alliance Academy, almost conditioned for military life. Then there was N7 training, but nothing as formal as that since.

19. Ever want to marry and have any kids one day?

I don’t know. Now that the war is over, maybe? I never managed to think that far ahead.

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

You could say that. I have a VI dedicated to sorting my mail.

21. What are you most afraid of?

Failure. Letting down my team.

22. What do you usually wear?

Usually whatever the Alliance has requisitioned for me.

23. What one food tempts you?

Oooh, anything freshly cooked an warm, and you’ll have me wrapped around your little finger. Let’s just say I’ve become way more accustomed to MRE’s than I care for.

24. Am I annoying you?

Not exactly, though I’m not sure why some of these are so personal.

25. Well, it’s still not over!

Great.

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

Middle.

27. How many friends do you have?

Living a life in space hasn’t allowed for much stability on that front, but my crew has become a second family. It’s not about how many, but about the bonds that aren’t breakable, and I’ve found that in my crew.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

Like I said, anything fresh or home cooked, and you have my attention.

29. Favorite drink?

Water’s never failed me. I’m sorry, were you looking for something more interesting? I’ll say that I am probably too attached to my coffee supply too.

30. What’s your favorite place?

Places have never really been a stability for me either. I guess the Normandy’s become pretty special.

31. Are you interested in anyone?

Well... there was someone. I’m not really sure anymore.

32. That was a stupid question…

Yeah...

33. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

I can’t say that I’ve had much of a chance for either, but I remember that sticky gross feeling after swimming in an ocean, so I’ll have to say lake.

34. What’s your type?

I’m sorry?

35. Any fetishes?

Oh, we’re really not going there.

36. Camping indoors or outdoors?

Are you kidding me? You’re going to ask this after that last question? What exactly is this interview for? Outdoors, I guess. I wouldn’t say no to a nice cabin though.

Fairy Tale Aesthetics: Brothers Grimm Version

SNOW WHITE.

jade trinket boxes. taste of iron. fingertips on a mirror. yellow and green with envy. long handled hunting knives. sewing by the window. combs laced with pearls and poison. an apple white one side and red the other. white doves. frosted glass.

THE MAIDEN WITHOUT HANDS.

a blunt axe. a ring of chalk. tear-stained cheeks. sweet pears. hands tied behind back. shallow rivers. aching feet, walking for days. flowing gown. liquid silver. wax seals. blinding lights.

THE THREE LITTLE GNOMES IN THE FOREST.

lukewarm bath water. sapphire butterflies. tiny milk snakes. baskets of strawberries. fat toads. sparkling snow. fur cloaks. raw gemstones. kettles made of copper. red wine. a tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere.

BLUE BEARD.

a tiny key made of gold. pools of blood. stains that won’t rub away. galloping hooves. treasures from far away lands. dragging by the hair. dark and damp cellars. marble walls. shivering with fear. screaming at the top of your lungs.

THE SIX SWANS.

sitting side-saddle. daughter of a witch. nettles. white feathers. refusing to smile. needles and threads. a castle in the forest. sound of beating wings. birthmarks. climbing trees. balls of yarn. silver crowns.

LITTLE RED CAP.

wildflowers. rich-tasting cake. wicker baskets. the path rarely trod. sharp teeth. curtains drawn. a dying fireplace. grey pelts. red velvet. handmade quilts. sunlight peeking through branches. opening corks with a satisfying pop. looking someone directly in the eye.

OC Body Language Meme

DEFENSIVENESS

arms crossed / crossing legs / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / karate chops / stiffening of shoulders / tense posture / curling of lip / baring of teeth / brow furrowing / shoulders hunched / sudden, sharp movements / growling

REFLECTIVE

hand-to-face gestures / head tilted / stroking chin / peering over glasses / taking glasses off — cleaning / putting earpiece of glasses in mouth / pipe smoker gestures / putting hand to bridge of nose / pursed lips / knitted brows / scrunched nose / staring to the side / fidgeting

SUSPICION

arms crossed / sideways glance / touching or rubbing nose / rubbing eyes / hands resting on weapon / brows raising / lips pressing into a thin line / strict, unwavering eye contact / wrinkling of nose / narrowed eyes / smooth, quick movements / sniffing the air loudly

INSECURITY & ANXIETY

chewing pen or pencil / rubbing thumb over opposite thumb / biting fingernails / biting lips / hands in pockets / elbow bent / closed gestures / clearing throat / “whew” sound / picking or pinching flesh / fidgeting in chair / hand covering mouth whilst speaking / poor eye contact / tugging at pants whilst seated / jingling money in pockets / tugging at ear / perspiring hands / playing with hair / swaying / playing with pointer/marker/cane / smacking lips / sighing / rocking on balls of feet / flexing or cracking fingers sporadically / hugging themselves / head whipping around frantically / hanging down avoiding eye contact / low growling / shoulders hunched over / sitting with knees pulled up to the chest

ANGER & FRUSTRATION

short breaths / “tsk” sounds / tightly-clenched hands / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / running hand through hair / rubbing back of neck / snarling / revealing teeth / grimacing / sharp-eye glowers / notable tension in brow / shoulders back, head up – defensive posturing / clenching of jaw/ grinding teeth / nostrils flaring / heavy exhales / hitting walls and random objects / loud growling / pacing / yelling randomly

OC sense aesthetic

SIGHT. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

small towns. big cities. six thirty curfews. lights that take the place of stars. blanket nests. light through the blinds as a wake up call. found family. finding a single star in the middle of new york city. window shopping. watching something terrible and enjoying it. growing numb to the sight of injustice. wilted flowers. faded caricatures. bright, bold colours.

HEARING

crickets and lightning bugs. car engines and a / c units. a phone call to mum / dad. laughing with friends. jokes that are so bad you have to laugh. the clicking of computer keys. noise cancelling headphones. the sound of silence. muffled music from another room. drumming fingertips on a table. clicking of pens. listening to a clock and swearing the ticks get slower. ringing in the ears. the voice of someone you love. pitch shifted songs.

TOUCH

being held close during a long night. fleeting reassurances. holding hands when you’re scared. brushing fingers through strands of hair. freshly dried clothes. bruises on your knuckles. silk and satin. your favourite pet’s fur or feather. wringing your hands anxiously. snuggles. comforters in the dead of winter. nails against skin. cold metal. leather in summer.

TASTE

coffee in the morning. tea in the evening. bubblegum that lost its flavor. alcohol burning the back of your throat. homemade cooking, no matter what’s made. blood in your mouth. stale air. mint. fresh vegetables. that processed taste of citrus candy. the first meal you cook by yourself that tastes good. foreign sweets. fast food. bittersweet. sour. spicy. sweet. bitter. too much salt on fries.

Bold Relationship Tag

If anyone actually made it this far, I’d be shocked. But seriously, if you want to do any kind of variance of an OC master post for your OCs, feel free to do it and tag me.

#OC Interview #My OC #Jane Shepard #oc memes #lots of memes #long post #super long post after the cut

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kittenwritesstuff · 6 years

Text

Oops, he did it again...

Gif’s not mine!

Fandom: The Hobbit Pairing: Kili x wife!reader Genres: fluff, possible secondhand embarrassment Words: 1.450 Summary: Feeling frustrated with your lack of time for him, Kili comes up with a scheme to get you some free time - requested by @moonfaery A/N: I realize I am a bit rusty at writing - I still need to get a hang of it again. Luckily, I have more free time which means I will write more. And darling, I apologize you had to wait so long. I hope you’ll enjoy it :)

This was taking forever and you have already grew tired and sick of sitting in one place for fifth hour, with no prospect of leaving any time soon.

You were aware that negotiations between three races would not be easy but that hard? All three of them must be so stubborn and won’t even consider a little compromise?

You heave out a sight and it catches Thorin’s attention.

“Y/N? Are we boring you?” he cocks up his brow, looking at you with scolding expression on his face.

Thranduil leans in his chair and purses his lips whilst Bard rests his chin on his palm, both of them fixating their gazes at you. You can have their respect but they will not let you disregard such important matter as trading terms.

“Your Majesties, I do realize that all three of you would want to have the best possible solution for them but given that it is a benefit to all of you I suggest working out a compromise. Something that will satisfy all of you.”

“That’s impossible,” Thranduil notes in a low, cold tone and you fight an urge to grunt. Elves and their pride.

“It would be, if you stopped putting yourself and your people first. Y/N is right, we need to somehow meet in the middle,” Bard says calmly but sternly and Thranduil huffs.

“I can’t imagine any possible solution that would be best for all of us. Not when Thranduil doesn’t want to involve his people!” Thorin protests and you start massaging your forehead. You sense a huge headache coming, as usual when you help in negotiations.

It started when you joined Thorin and the Dwarves on their quest to Erebor. When you were captured by Woodland elves you somehow managed to convince Thranduil to let you all go. For some reason, he agreed and Thorin immediately proposed you a position of his personal negotiator.

Sometimes you regretted that you took it.

“May I?” you ask looking at Thorin and he nods his head wordlessly.

“I suggest that, given that King Thranduil doesn’t wish his lands to be disturbed, the elves would only help with transferring the supplies from boats to carts. This way it will go quicker because the elves are stronger.”

Thranduil furrows his brows, gazing at you intensely and for a moment you feel very uncomfortable.

He stays like that for a long while, visibly analyzing your proposition and when he finally snaps out of it, you exhale and relax.

“Agreed. We can arrange that.”

______

You drag yourself to your quarters feeling mighty exhausted. It was never easy but lately, as Thranduil mostly demanded rarely offering something in exchange, the negotiations became harder and more demanding.

It didn’t help your very recent marriage.

Kili and you became close during the quest but only after the Mountain was reclaimed you decided to make you relationship official. As his mother and your parents arrived you announced your courtship and not long after you were married.

And even though you loved your work and usually it didn’t take such a toll on you, you wanted to spend more time with your husband and celebrate your relationship instead of sitting with three kings during boring talks.

Yet, no reasoning broke through to Thorin, even when his sister yelled at him. You were needed, period, and he couldn’t give you less responsibilities than you position required. And, after all, you agreed to take that position.

Which, lately, you started regretting more and more.

As you open the door, Kili rushes to you, his arms embracing you in no time.

“Another rough one, eh?” he asks quietly and you can only nod, too tired to even speak.

“Want me to draw you a bath?”

“Only if you join me, love,” you say with a soft smile and Kili’s face breaks into a puppy-like happy grin.

“Well, I was counting on that, sweetheart. Give me a minute and it’ll be ready.”

“I’ll undress in the meantime,” you announce and Kili nods before heading to adjacent bathroom.

And even though he didn’t let anything show, he was worried sick about you. You barely had time for yourself, not to mention for him and your marriage. It wasn’t how he imagined it to be. And even though he understood the nature of your job and how important it was he couldn’t help but wonder if Thorin realized that you had first and foremost you were Kili’s wife.

And that was what matter the most. Not some stupid negotiations. And Kili felt like it was high time to take the matters into his own hands.

_____

The next day you wake up quite late, but luckily you don’t have to work until afternoon. Today you have scheduled only one negotiations – with King Thranduil, concerning the terms of forestry and possible hunting.

Kili was gone when you woke up and you guess he went to his own duties. Neither of you was actually free of work, both of you had obligations.

You go about your daily routine, washing up, styling your hair and choosing a proper dress. It seems to be easy but in fact you need to kind of mix the cultures of the kings you’ll be seeing today – you can’t look too dwarvish, but not too elvish either.

After you deem yourself decent enough to attempt the meeting, you eat a small meal, and head to the conference room.

As you open the door, much to your surprise you see Kili, chatting with Thorin.

“Kili?” you mumble as you near them, Kili looking at you with innocent expression and you instantly become suspicious.

“Y/N! I brought wine for the meeting – Bombur didn’t have anybody around to send here and I was near. What a coincidence, don’t you think?”

You narrow your eyes but sit down although feeling rather uneasy. It surely was not a coincidence.

“Yes, a coincidence.”

“Do you want some wine, love?”

“No, I’m fine. When will Tranduil arrive?”

“Soon,” Throin answers simply, accepting a full glass of wine Kili hands him. As you see Kili’s self-satisfied smirk your stomach drops. What is going on?

“Thorin…” you mutter, drawing his attention. The glass stops mid-way to his mouth.

“Yes?”

“Don’t drink it.”

“Why not?” he knits his brow, looking at you confused. Kili freezes behind Thorin’s back, gazing at you with wide open eyes.

You got him.

“I have a suspicion that Kili might have added something to the wine. Am I right?”

Kili fidgets and Thorin glances at him with stern expression.

“Kili?”

“Well, uh… I might have asked Oin for a medicine for my feigned gastric problems…”

“Kili, for Mahal’s sake, why would you do that?” Thorin huffs out, putting the glass on the table and sliding it away from himself.

“Because you won’t let Y/N rest! You keep her here all day long and she’s always tired! And we’re married! How can I spend time with my wife while she’s always away from me?!”

“Oh, Kili…” you mumble, shaking your head. His behavior has undoubtedly childish and reckless but somewhat adorable.

“Y/N, is it true? Am I tiring you too much?”

You clear your throat.

“To be frank, even though I love my job, there are some cases when I am not needed. I do feel that you, Thranduil and Bard sometimes rely on me too much. You are all clever enough to find a solution by yourselves,” you admit quietly, a little anxious as to what Thorin’s reaction would be. Will he be angry? Disappointed?

Thorin heaves out a sigh as he looks at you. There’s no anger in his gaze, just compassion and what seems to be apology.

“I am sorry, Y/N. It became very easy to not have to think too much while having you beside me. And you’re right, we rely on you too much. Therefore,” he pauses and smiles at you, “you have two weeks off. Starting now.”

“Kili, take Y/N somewhere nice. Consider it as a kind of honeymoon.”

You sit dumbfounded, not really registering what have just happened, Kili on the other hand immediately starts cheering, even hugging Thorin.

Soon, you start cheering too, thanking Thorin profusely and he ushers you away before Thranduil arrives. Kili and you walk out of the conference room, rushing to your chambers.

“I should be very mad at you.”

“I know, Y/N.”

“But I will yell at you later. Now, I assume you already planned a journey of sorts?”

“Ah, you know me so well!”

“Do we start packing?”

“Of course.”

You clap your hands, quickening your pace and Kili giggles, seeing your enthusiasm.

Well, that’s what we wanted to see.

#kili #kili x reader #x reader #reader insert #kili fic #kili one shot #Kili drabble #kili imagine #the hobbit #hobbitfic #moonfaery

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dyde21 · 6 years

Text

Pressure

So Spiderman became my favorite PS4 title pretty quickly I think. I love it, and I’ve always had a soft spot for him. I also absolutely love how MJ was portrayed in the game, and I had this idea so I ran with it.

XxXxXxXxX

Hearing her phone buzz, MJ was turning her head before she managed to pry her eyes from the article she was writing. Finishing off another sentence, a small smile graced her lips as she finally picked up her phone. She was in a good groove, and she was pretty sure this article would go over well. Things had been oddly quiet in the city, so she actually had a chance to report on a massive charity effort that had had a noticeable impact on the homeless population, and had lead to a ten percent decrease in the population as more people were connected with jobs to help them out.

Turning on her phone, she'd be lying if she didn't admit that seeing Peter's name and the little spider emoji didn't bring a smile to her face.

Can I swing by for a bit?

Pausing, she tried to suppress the sinking feeling in her gut. Something about his text just felt wrong. She wasn't sure if it was just from years of knowing him, and being in an on and off relationship with him, but she had a sixth sense for when something was wrong with him.

Of course. She quickly replied, before she turned back to her article, trying to get through it before her night was derailed by Peter in either a wonderful or awful way, depending on how lady luck seemed to be feeling tonight.

Be there in five.

She saw the message, leaving it as she went back to writing. She knew she had about ten minutes before he got here, figuring the odds of him not passing a crime on the way to her apartment was slim to none. Pausing after the end of a paragraph, she quickly dialed her phone as she ordered a pizza for them. She knew crime fighting had a habit of making her unfortunately under-fed boyfriend starved, and she wasn't really in the mood to cook and judging by his odd text, she doubted he was either.

When fifteen minutes, MJ was seriously starting to get worried. While Peter being late was definitely more a normal situation than him actually arriving on time, there definitely felt something wrong about tonight. Part of her wanted to text him again, but she figured if he was in the middle of being shot at, a text was the last thing he needed at the moment. Doing her best to focus on finishing up her article, she pushed thoughts of her crime fighting boyfriend from her mind. He could take care of himself, he had been doing it for years after all. If she started worrying every time he was in danger she'd go insane.

When she heard the window slide open five more minutes later, she let out a sigh of relief. She closed her laptop, having just finished the last edits on her piece before she heard the loud thump. Racing across the room, she turned the corner to see Spider-man laying on the ground, clutching his shoulder.

“Peter!” She called out in a worry as she ran to his side, helping him sit up as he groaned. He ripped his mask off with one hand. “I'm okay.” He muttered, but she could tell he was the farthest thing from it. He just looked... horrible. There were no other words for it, and she didn't even just mean the fact he had a wound in his shoulder. “Come here, get to the bathroom!” She ordered as she began to pull him along. He managed to drag himself to his feet, and as she watched him she could see just how beat up he was, his suit was torn all over and he had a slight limp. Which was even scarier, because the news hadn't released any reports of a supervillian attacking. Just what had caused all of this?

A minute later and she had Peter sitting on the edge of her tub as she pulled off his shirt, starting to dress his wounds like she had done too many times in the past. For once he wasn't making any quips or attempts at humor, and that scared her more than the blood.

“What... what happened?” She asked after a moment, her curiosity and concern eating away at her.

“I... failed.” He said after a moment, his head dropping into his hands.

Pausing her first aid, she looked at him. Peter was damn good at his job, especially after all these years. Sure some things were out of his control, but he usually could soldier on. She hadn't seen him this down in years, since she had first found out his secret and found out the toll it took on him. Setting down the bandages, she sat on the tub next to him, looking at him patiently. “What happened?” She asked after a moment.

Peter just looked at her, opened his mouth to say something that she was pretty sure was a joke before he sighed.

“It was supposed to just be a simple mugging. I swung in, stopped it without issue, but before I could web them up properly for the police, a getaway driver nearly ran me over. They sped away and I chased them... but...” His voice trailed off as she saw his eyes darken. “Pete...” She offered gently, running a hand through his hair.

“He shouldn't have been there!” He burst out suddenly. “He should have waited for a cross walk. But the boy was just running across the street, and the muggers weren't interested in slowing down. Before I could stop the car completely it...” Peter's voice cracked as he fell silent. “I was so distracted I didn't notice them pull a gun and point it back at me until I was hit. After that it's a bit of a blur. The boy's in the hospital... and it doesn't look good.” Peter finished his story.

MJ felt a fist clench around her heart as she stared at her broken boyfriend. She could tell he blamed himself completely for this, once again ignoring that it was the criminals who did it.

“Peter...” She said softly as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. She felt him wrap his arms around her, hugging her tightly as he buried his head into her neck. “It's not your fault.” She whispered softly, rubbing the back of his head.

She knew peter felt responsible for every death since he put on that mask, and everyone added just a little more weight to his shoulders. She hated nights like this, when it seemed like Peter was incapable of seeing all the wonderful good he did, all the lives he saved, for the few he failed.

After a few minutes, he seemed to get himself back together and MJ went back to work with bandaging his wounds. Luckily he healed quickly, so she knew he'd back up on his feet in no time.

“Look at me Pete.” She asked after a moment, waiting for him to meet her eyes. His eyes met hers and she smiled, before she leaned forward and kissed him briefly. She laughed slightly at his bewildered expression, still glad that even after all these years he was her lovable dork that preform precise movements of acrobatics in the middle of a fight while dodging bullets, but he still got flustered with a little personal affection.

“You can't blame yourself for this. The driver was the one who ran, after committing a crime in the first place.” She explained patiently. She already knew how he would respond.

“But it's my jo-”

“Peter!” She said, reaching up and cupping his face, making him look at her, cutting off his denial. He just stared at her, finally giving her his full attention again.

“You're not a god. You're a man in a mask. You do amazing things. You've saved so many lives, you've inspired so many people. But you're still just a man. You can't blame yourself for everything.”

MJ saw his shoulders slump as a look of resignation overcame him. She had known him for years now, and she had seen his growth. From an awkward, unsure teenager who got powers out of nowhere, to a man who was figuring out his place in the world, to the hero standing on top of the city, to his low moments like how where he regretted ever putting on his mask. She had been with him through most of it, and she planned to stay at his side, because he no matter how many responsibilities had been shoved on his plate, he always made the time to be excited for her as she pursued her dream as a reporter, and even when they fought about her habit of getting into danger, he was always, always there for her. While she may get annoyed at how often he had to run off, it was clear he always felt guilty as well and rarely took her for granted. Despite their ups and downs, they were an important part of each others life by now, and nothing could change that.

Peter nodded after a moment. “You're right. I just...”

“Wish you could do everything?” She finished for him, offering a patient smile.

He returned the smile, nodding. “Yeah.”

MJ just nodded. “I don't blame you it's tough feeling helpless...” She muttered, thinking back on all the times she saw him fighting, or watching him come back from a fight in a similar condition that he was in to now. “But you have to realize sometimes things are out of your control. It's not easy, trust me. But it's important.”

Pete nodded. “You're right... as usual.” He said after a pause, making her smile. “I'll... work on it.” He offered.

Nodding, MJ felt satisfied. “That's all I ask. That hero heart you have is one of the things I love about you.” She confessed, making them both flush. They leaned forward, about to kiss again when someone was suddenly knocking on the door. “The pizza!” MJ exclaimed, hopping up and rushing across the apartment, leaving Peter confused and asking about pizza.

Standing at the door, MJ fished out money before she realized there was still a pool of blood right inside the window where Peter had fallen in. Cursing her luck, she did her best to open the door without letting him see too much inside. Luckily it was New York so she doubted the delivery boy would be weirded out by the person acting a little strange. He seemed a bit curious as to what she was hiding, but she tipped him ten bucks and shoved him away and he seemed content as he left as she closed the door and let out a deep breath. She had tried very hard to keep a relatively normal reputation with her neighbors, and she didn't need any rumors starting. Peter was standing near the doorway to the bathroom, still shirtless but he had finished bandaging his wounds. He just looked somber, there was no other way to properly describe his downtrodden expression. MJ's eyes flashed over his chest, still not quite used to just how good of shape Peter was in under his suit. Forcing her eyes upwards, she smiled and nodded her head. “You have some spare clothes in my room. Bottom drawer of the dresser.” She offered.

Ever since she had found out the truth, and he had occasionally crashed at her place when either injured or just too tired, she had kept a few sets of clothing for him. Not including the nights he just stayed over to be with her. By the time he had emerged again, he was in a comfy pair of sweatpants and a daily bugle sweater than just made him look cute. While she loved seeing him look heroic in his suit without a mask, or sexy when shirtless, seeing him all bundled up in casual clothes like that was probably her favorite. It was when he was really just Peter Parker. The geek she fell in love with. He joined her on the couch, the TV turned to some random movie as they both started eating a few slices of pizza, idly chatting about her new article or when they both had the free time to go see that new movie in theaters.

She noticed he was still quiet, but he seemed to have at least regained some sense of self. Just then, the distant echoes of a siren rang out as she saw him freeze, his eyes drifting over to where she was sure he left his suit.

“No.” She warned, causing him to look back at her.

“But...”

“No.” She repeated, setting down her mug to turn towards him and prepare for a fight.

“I can't just...”

“Yes you can.” She snapped, before toning it back for a moment. “Peter, for tonight, for me. Just stop. You're not in the right head space for this. If you go out there now, you could make a mistake, someone else could get hurt. YOU could get hurt. Don't do that to me. Don't do that to yourself.” She said, reaching up to cup his face gently. “There isn't a super villain out there. The cops exist for a reason, and they can cover things for a few hours.”

She could tell he still wanted to get up, but she saw her words spinning around his head, slowly convincing him. Reaching down, she grabbed another slice of pizza, holding it up for him, her eyes pleading him to take it.

He stared at her for a moment, then the pizza, before he sighed and nodded. He took the pizza and settled back into the couch, taking a bite.

Proud, she leaned over and kissed him. The world could wait for a night. Standing up, she made her way over to the window and shut it properly, they didn't need sirens interrupting them for once.

Moving back to the couch, she sat down on it and looked over to see her Pete chilling out eating Pizza for once. Grinning, she beckoned him with a finger. “Come here, Tiger.”

MJ was pretty sure she'd always prefer kissing her boyfriend to worrying about him.

XxXxXxXxX

Hope you enjoyed this little story! It was pretty fun writing it, I love this couple and I hope we can see more of them in future games.

#Spiderman #Marvel Spiderman #MJ #Mary Jane #MJ x Spiderman #MJ x Peter #Mary Jane x Peter

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maryenette-writes · 6 years

Text

Kingdom Come Pt. 6 [Damian x Reader] AU

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Princess!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1545

MASTERLIST

[F/N] had always wondered what Damian’s home looked like. He rarely visited ever since he became her personal guard, and she never visited either. In fact, the location was kept hidden for security purposes.

Now, seeing the place for the first time, [F/N] was shocked by the beauty of it. The land was surrounded by a magnificent mountain range, keeping it shielded from enemies and any trespassers. There were numerous buildings, enough to be a small village. The largest building—[F/N] assumed it was the main building—stood tall and proud, but it didn’t overshadow the others. There were farmlands with fruits and vegetables, livestock, and young squires training to fight.

“This is incredible…” she breathed, “it’s not just a manor.” She turned to one of her escorts.

“No, your highness,” he chuckled, “we just call it that to keep our secrets guarded.”

“Clever,” she complimented, waving to the women and children running by. “How many live here?”

“I cannot say, for I don’t know,” he admitted, “there are those who lived here all their life, including me. We serve House Wayne, who in turn serve the kingdom. We function as a regular village, we have no use for outside help with the resources available to us here.”

“That’s amazing…” said [F/N]. “How come you never told me this?” she asked, turning to Damian. The young knight simply shrugged.

“My apologies, princess, I wasn’t permitted. Only the king and his council know of this. Not even the queen knew,” he explained, carefully choosing his words.

“Oh…” [F/N] nodded in understanding and kept silent, refraining from asking any more questions. She should’ve known—of course he couldn’t tell her. The Waynes were always known to be shrouded in mystery.

They arrived at the main house and immediately, the soldiers and servants bowed. [F/N] wasn’t sure who they were bowing for; her or Damian, but she hoped it was the latter. She watched as Damian’s father, Sir Bruce, descend to meet them. When he came face to face with the princess, he too bowed before her.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, “I am relieved to see you alive and well.”

“Please, be at ease,” she glanced around, realizing they were bowing for her, “all of you. You mustn’t feel the need to be so formal around me.” Hearing her words, they stood up instantaneously.

“Please, come,” Bruce led [F/N] up the staircase and into the main house, Damian following close behind. She felt uncomfortable being in such a foreign place, but Damian’s presence calmed her nerves.

“I hope you like our facilities,” Bruce began, “it is not like the palace you are so familiar with, but I tried my best to ensure it is deemed worthy should Damian accompany you here.”

“No, no it’s… it’s more than enough,” said [F/N], staring at the spotless floor and beautifully decorated walls. “So much has happened in the last few days that… well, accommodation is the least of my worries, sir.”

Bruce nodded in acknowledgment, but the princess could clearly see he was analyzing his abode, searching for any mistakes his trained eyes overlooked. After all, he too spent a lot of time in the castle and he had familiarized himself with the royal family’s taste.

“You must be exhausted from your journey. I have a room prepared for you. Please, follow Alfred.”

As if on cue, an old butler appeared, bowing graciously before ushering [Y/N] towards a particular direction. Frowning, [F/N] glanced at Damian with uncertainty, reluctant to leave him. She felt secure with him by her side, and ever since the siege he had not left her side.

Damian sensed her concerns and offered a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll be here, princess. You need not worry. Now go; rest. I’ll find you shortly.”

[F/N] nodded and followed Alfred towards her room. He was a kind man, a grandfatherly figure if she had to describe him in a way. He ensured she was comfortable and paid no mind to her silence. Instead, he opted to fill the awkward atmosphere with tales of the childhoods of all Wayne members, from Damian to his brothers to even Bruce.

“Here we are, your highness,” Alfred announced, opening a door to a reasonably sized room, “I attempted to prepare it the way I assumed you preferred it but I was unsure of your tastes. I do hope it is to your liking.”

The princess simply smiled, one of her very rare genuine smiles ever since all that happened. “It’s perfect, Alfred. You did a marvelous job.”

With a satisfied nod, the butler informed, “I have instructed some maids to assist you. They shall be here shortly.”

“Thank you.”

Alfred gave one last bow before exiting, leaving [F/N] alone in this foreign room. She was glad it wasn’t like her old room; it would evoke too many painful memories and she didn’t particularly look forward to having another breakdown.

Now, alone for the first time in a place where she was safe, [F/N] allowed herself to relax. Everything was chaotic, from the destruction of her home to the genocide of her people. She had so many questions. Who was left? What were things like back home? What system had the enemies established? Were people mourning the deaths of her parents, or were they celebrating? Did they prefer their new rulers over her?

So many questions ran through her head at the same time, making her slightly dizzy. She knew that her kingdom had problems. They were powerful, but being plagued with war caused the economy to suffer greatly. Numerous villagers and townsfolk had to be drafted into the army, creating unrest. They weren’t doing too bad with food, but like always there were the less fortunate of society who got the short end of the stick.

But was there enough people to raise an army to go against them? Surely it wasn’t her own people but their enemies, from neighboring kingdoms. [F/N] couldn’t fathom the thought of betrayal. She loved her people. She didn’t want to believe they would betray her.

No, it must be someone else.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock.

“Your Highness?” It was a woman. “We are here to help you bathe and bring you outfits.”

“Come in.”

Three women, dressed in a servant uniform, entered the room. One carried new clothing that was clearly meant for [F/N]. They all curtseyed in unison before quietly moving to prepare the bath.

After preparing the bath, the maids all worked to bathe [F/N], washing all the dirt and scars from her delicate skin. Days on the road affected her, but the maids tried their best to be as gentle as possible. They asked nothing about [F/N] and instead gossiped about the occupants of the estate and village. Once she was fully cleaned, the maids helped the princess into her new outfit and did her hair.

“There. You look beautiful, your Highness,” said a maid with a bright smile.

“Thank you,” [F/N] responded with a blush. It had been a while since she stared at her own reflection. Her [H/C] hair had been done beautifully, and the [F/C] fabric of her dress was expensive, but it wasn’t glamorous. She didn’t feel too overdressed, but it was certainly refreshing to be out of the dress she had worn for days.

“Your Highness,” another maid called out, “Master Damian is here to see you.”

“Oh, please let him in.”

Nodding, the maids opened the door and curtseyed to both [F/N] and Damian before dismissing themselves. Damian closed the door carefully before approaching her, studying her appearance inconspicuously.

“How are you feeling, [F/N]?”

“Better,” she acknowledged, “and cleaner. Thank you for doing all this.”

“There is no need to thank us, it’s merely our job.” They both exchanged a smile before Damian’s face grew serious once more. “Now that you’re ready, please follow me.”

[F/N] raised an eyebrow. “Follow you where?”

“To the war council,” answered Damian, a dark look flashing across his eyes, “we sustained heavy losses but my brothers managed to fill the… vacant positions.”

“And… you want me to be there?” she inquired with disbelief. A war council? She never studied war before, and she certainly hasn’t attended a war council either.

“I don’t,” Damian remarked in annoyance, “but as the last person of royal blood, it is compulsory for you to attend.”

“Oh…” Of course. That made sense. Of course she had to attend.

There were still so many unanswered questions, most of which could be answered by Bruce or the others in this council. [F/N] was scared. She wasn’t built nor raised for war, but in this period of desperation, people can change. She certainly has already. She was nervous, as she knew they would expect her input. If it came to her making the decision, she doesn't trust herself enough to make it, but this was something she knew she had to do. She couldn’t just let her kingdom burn and wither away.

She had to fight.

Swallowing her anxiety, [F/N] clasped her hands together and nodded firmly. “Then… let us not keep the others waiting.”

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whimsymuse · 6 years

Text

Star-Crossed (chapter 1)

➸ “Marry the Prince and save your friend; that was your job, but you refuse to be with someone you don’t love. So, what happens when you fall in love with the wrong person?”

Masterlist

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (slight Jimin x Reader | Royalty AU)

genre: Fluff, humour and angst

warnings: none so far

words: 2,486

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight

When your parents told you the place you were going was a little old timey, this isn't what you were expecting. By old timey, you thought there would just be a lack of skyscrapers and electronic billboards, but you never expected the place to actually look straight out of the Regency era. You half expected Mr. Darcy to round the corner with Elizabeth on his arm wearing his fancy tailcoat and iconic top hat.

The buildings were mismatched, but shared the cozy small town feel where the architecture consisted purely of wood and bricks. Each building had their respective names painted on wooden panels hanging above their doors. There was also a stark lack of modern technology, but it didn't seem to be because the town was closed off from the rest of society, but simply because their townspeople preferred the simplicity. Even the lamps illuminating the shops had light bulbs that imitated flames and everything was close enough that you could walk or take a short carriage ride to get there.

You checked your watch. There was still a few minutes to spare before you were supposed to be picked up, so there was no harm in you exploring for a bit, right? Around you there were several shops and carts filled with little trinkets and wares and you just had to see what they had to offer.

Stepping into the first shop that caught your eye, you were immediately hit with a plethora of scents. The shop was lined with shelves carrying uniquely shaped humidifiers with small bottles of aromas. On a few tables there were even pyramids of handmade soaps, incense and perfume. You slowly and carefully made your way around the shop, not wanting to knock down any displays while also wanting to smell everything the shop had on display.

There were scents ranging from honeysuckle to forest pine; the entire spectrum from sweet smelling aromas to smokey scented incense.

You’d just picked up a candle and lifted it to your nose, “Eucalyptus.” You said absentmindedly to yourself before gently placing the candle back down.

The shop seemed to just be a normal shop, but you couldn’t help but feel like there was something magical to it. You rarely got to see shops like this back where you lived, so maybe it was just that; either way the shop and it's wares kept you hypnotized.

“Can I help you?” A smooth voice asked, pulling you out of your reverie so suddenly that you almost stumbled over your own feet.

“N-no, um … I’m just looking.” You managed to stammer out.

“Alright, well take your time. If you need anything, I'll just be behind here.” The shop keeper said with a polite smile and a nod to his left where you found the counter.

“Thank you.” You returned the smile, then continued down the aisles, with a faint blush of embarrassment still dusted over your cheeks.

While peering through the shelves, you tried to focus on the products in front of you in lieu of the embarrassment you felt. And that’s when your eyes land on a basket filled with brightly coloured objects. There was body cream, bath salts, candles and some incense sticks, but what really attracted your attention was the array of multi-coloured rubber ducks that decorated the inside of the basket.

Did they have kids? You thought, as you vaguely recalled your mother mentioning a toddler and a baby. They would like these, right? What kid didn't like rubber duckies? Plus they're too big to be choking hazards, so it should be fine. They deserve a gift anyways.

You checked the price, then sighed. You forgot the currency wasn't the same here. So you quickly pulled up the calculator on your phone to figure out the price.

“Wow, that’s it?” You said slightly surprised, but you weren’t gonna complain. So the next thing you knew, you were hefting basket all the way to the counter.

“Did you find everything you were looking for today?”

You nodded as you plopped the basket down on the counter before asking, “Do you take card?”

The shopkeeper gestured to the small machine next to the register and you sighed in relief. The town, though looking like it came straight out of a time machine, still had some of the conveniences of technology, and lucky for you because you forgot to exchange your money at the airport.

You paid then smiled up at the shopkeeper, who brightly smiled back and it wasn’t until then that your realized he was actually good looking. His hair was parted off to the side, showing off perfectly clear skin and soft features that you envied and his smile literally glowed. How had you not noticed this man before? You briefly wondered, before hastily looking away upon realizing you’d been staring for far too long.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” He said.

“Yes, thank you.” You replied quickly, just before leaving with your heavy purchase in tow.

Back on the streets, you forced yourself to forget the encounter because that was not why you were here. You couldn’t be ogling random people when you might be getting married in a few weeks.

After shifting a little bit away from the window of the store,you decided to stay where you were. The basket was way too heavy for you to lug anywhere else and besides, you would be in this country for awhile, so you still had a lot to time to explore the town.

As a few minutes ticked by, you noticed the shops around you slowly turn off their lights and close up. You looked at your watch in surprise; it was still early, but you guessed that was just another difference between here and where you came from.

You swayed slightly on the balls of your feet, looking down the road for approaching cars or carriages hoping that whichever was supposed to pick you up would arrive soon, when you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

Surprised, you turned around and were greeted by a handful of bright pink flowers being held in your face.

“For you.” A small voice stated more than asked and you had to lower your gaze to see who it came from.

“Oh, no it’s fine. I already spent all of my money on this basket.” You said, nodding towards your last purchase.

The little girl shook her head, “It's free.” she said and your eyes widened in shock.

“Free?”

The girl nodded, “It's the end of the day and these are all I have left. Have them.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, only to have the girl respond by pushing the flowers closer to your face. “W-Well, okay then. Thank you.” You said, gratefully accepting the flowers, “They’re beautiful, do you grow then yourself?”

“Yup! They're the best flowers in town.” She responded, proudly placing her hands on her hips.

“I don’t doubt it.”

You were still admiring the flowers when you heard a voice call your name.

Before you could respond, the little girl before you bounded past you and curtsied.

“Lord Taehyung, good evening.” She said.

You watched as the man who’d just called your name bow back to her.

“Miss Jane, always a pleasure.” The man replied, in a rather exaggerated manner and you faintly heard a small giggle escape the little girl. “Flower business going well I presume?”

“Of course!” Jane placed her hands on her hips again, “I almost completely sold out again today.”

“Marvellous! I'm glad to hear it.” The man said again in his overly happy tone, but you sensed he meant evey word regardless. “Now you must excuse me, but I must be heading off soon and considering the time,” He said while briefly checking his watch, “you should be too.”

Jane nodded, the curtsied “Good night, Lord Taehyung. She then turned towards you, “It was nice to meet you…”

“Lady Y/n." The man responded before you could and Jane smiled brightly as she curtsied while repeating your name.

Hesitantly, you curtsied back, albeit awkwardly, but Jane’s smile told you she was satisfied all the same. After she scampered off, you lifted your eyes towards the man before you as he approached.

“Lady Y/n, it's a pleasure to see you again.” He said as he took your hand a gently placed a kiss on its back.

Flustered, you choked on your response “I-it’s nice to see you too...um... Lord Taehyung?”

Last time you saw Taehyung, you were back home and that's all you called him. Slapping on ‘Lord' felt weird and foreign on your tongue.

Taehyung chuckled at your seeming discomfort then said, “I guess we can drop the formalities when it’s just us.”

“Oh thank God.” You sighed with your entire body in relief.

“Though I have to warn you that everyone else in town is going to be referring to you as a Lady and while you're here you're going to have to learn how to respond appropriately.”

You bit your lip in nervousness, but nodded anyways. “I expected as much. You really do run things very differently here.”

“Yes, but I hope you come to like it here regardless.” Taehyung responded, hands still stiffly held behind his back and you sighed.

“So by ‘drop formalities’ were you just talking about the titles or can we talk like we normally do to each other?”

“Right!” Taehyung physically seems to loosen up after that, “Right, sorry. Sometimes it's hard to get out to the whole ‘prim and proper-ness’ of being a Lord.”

“I can only imagine.”

The two of you make your way towards the car, you assumed to be your ride to his house. Along the way, Taehyung noticed your heavy basket and carefully took it from your hands and you smiled gratefully.

“So how've you been?” He asked after passing off your basket to his chauffeur- he had a chauffeur?! -and taking the seat next to you.

“I've been good. Law school was tough, but I’m finally done with it and I managed to land a job that's waiting for me back home. Though, I guess if everything works out here, I won't really be heading home?” You inquired, shooting straight past the pleasantries and getting to what was really important.

“Right.” Taehyung shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “I’m sorry we brought you into this. I know how hard you’ve been working to become a lawyer and I’m just… I really am sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m happy to help. Plus my dream of marrying a Prince out dates my dream of becoming a lawyer so the choice was obvious.” You said hoping to lighten the mood, but Taehyung’s frown only deepens.

“I know, but you still shouldn't have had to give up your dream of being a lawyer for us. This doesn't even affect you, we should've been able to handle this on our own.”

“Tae.” You said in a hard tone, causing the man to look up in shock, “I really did mean it when I said that I am happy to help. You have always been kind to me and our families are practically family.” You placed a hand over his, “I promise to do my best to help you guys.”

Taehyung’s eyes dropped to where your hand rested over his and for a second you could swear you saw him blush, but the moment quickly passed as Taehyung bowed his head.

“Thank you, Y/n. My family will forever be in your debt.”

“Don’t worry about it Tae. As long as your mom bakes me Apple pie, consider the debt paid.”

Taehyung chuckled, “You can have all the Apple pie you want, whenever you want after this and I’ll personally bake it.”

You recoiled slightly, “I thought you wanted me to help you. I kind of have to be alive to do that.”

Taehyung placed a hand over his chest in mock offense, “I’ll have you know I'm a great cook.”

You raised an unconvinced eyebrow.

“Okay, I can at least bake my mom’s apple pie.” He amended. “Hey, I’ve been practicing!” He tacked on when you still appeared unconvinced.

“hm…” You tapped your chin in thought, “I don't know if I'm willing to risk it…”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, “I promise to taste it first if I bake one for you.”

“But some poisons aren't fast acting.”

“I’m not that bad!” Taehyung whined indignantly, causing you to laugh.

“I’m just joking,” You chided, “but you can't really blame me. The last time I saw you in the kitchen, you set my head on fire.”

“But does that speak more about my lack of cooking skills or the lack of life in your hair?”

You swatted at Taehyung’s arm for his last comment, “It was my bow! You set my bow on fire then dunked and entire bucket of water on me when you tried to put it out!”

“Ah… good times.”

Taehyung cackled when you swatted his arm again.

The rest of the car ride passed filled with the same banter. It’d been years since you’ve seen each in person, but still you were able to fall back into your usual pace so easily. And while you were happy to see him again, it was a shame you were meeting under such unfortunate circumstances.

In the distance, Taehyung’s mansion? Manor? (You never thought you’d be in a position where you’d have to tell the difference, if there even was one) grew closer and the reality of your situation finally hit you.

“So…” You stared, breaking the comfortable silence that settled over. “After this month I’ll either be married, or your family will lose this place.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Taehyung shift in his seat and his mouth open to respond, but no words left his lips. That was fine. You didn’t really expect him to answer; how could he? He knew it was his family’s fault you were here and under this much pressure. If only he’d been able to handle their financial problems, then you wouldn’t have had to put your life on hold just for his family - for him. He never wanted to resort to asking this of you, but he had no choice and he trusted no one else but you.

“I’m sorry… I really am...” He said, finally managing to string a coherent sentence together.

You took his hands into yours, forcing him to meet your eyes. “It’s okay Tae,” You said with a smile, “It really is okay.”

You weren’t sure who you were trying harder to convince, him or yourself, but either way you steeled yourself and faced forward once more, unconsciously still holding only Taehyung’s hand for support. Whatever happened after this month was all up to you, and his entire family depended on you. You couldn’t back out now.

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight

please do NOT edit, copy or repost

#taehyung fluff #taehyung fanfic #taehyung/reader #taehyung angst #bts fanfic #bts fluff #my writing #Star-crossed #taehyung #jimin fanfic #jimin/reader #taehyung/reader/jimin

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carmineclock · 6 years

Text

Felt Relationship Time

Backing up here from the discord development session

He's as as spiteful as he is patient (and lazy). And can be as charming as he can be lewd. It mostly depends on his mood. He definitely has seen all of you naked before (past trails make that very easy). Full on voyeur and tries taking more or less sneaky photos of nude or uncomfy situations, and will let you know just for kicks to make you uncomfortable. That part may have actually mellowed a little over the years, but he may still try to provoke you or creep you out when the situation allows for it. That said, if he feels personally slighted (LOOKING AT YOU ITCHY, and also Die maybe, and Fin still a tiny bit. And oh, hi Droog.), he will not let you live it down until he feels he got proper retribution. He MAY forgive, but he'll never forget. And he will get his payback.

Besides that, he has a very quiet lifestyle. Loves to read books, build ships, loves to listen to music, dance and sing, has a slight compulsion with the number three. His job speciality is breakins, espionage and extortion. Assassination at times. He's not one to get kicks out of murder or violence (unless it's Droog), it's just a necessary evil and part of the job to him. Yay for being dead inside!

He actually despises Scratch, LE and the Felt as an institution. But he has deep loyalty for his fellow Felts (even if some of them regularly get his goat) and would do almost everything for them, short of dying for them (exception are Nepeta and Fin). They're his only home and family and he'll fight tooth and nail to protect them.

He has a healthy dose of respect for Snowman (actually, it would be healthy to have a little more), and while he lowkey dislikes any authority, he also realizes she's just as much an experiment and stuck in servitude, even if in different ways, so he also has some sympathies for her.

Percy (06/💀)Today at 9:33 PM

Die: Can I have any teeth and or nails you lose along the way

rooty (03/Dave)Today at 9:33 PM

Trace: Yeah sure

01 - They were surely closer back when Trace was more of a rowdy teenager himself. While Trace may still find him entertaining at times, they grew apart a bunch, and various conflicts between him, Die, Fin and Itchy certainly didn't help. While he recognizes that Itchy has a few issues ™ , he'll not even try to get into it. Whatever Die may manage to do or not, Trace couldn't even do half as much and he got his hands full with his own two messes.

02 - Gotta need a lot more development on this front, but Trace enjoys both Doze's laid-back and no care attitude as well as his foul mouth. Also, soft tummy and tattoos. Hell yeah.

03 - He's lowkey highkey very narcistic. Because I forgot to mention that above: Additionally to being a voyeur, he also has exhibitionist uh.. tendencies. You've probably seen him naked around the hallways on his way from his room to the bath or back. He don't care. Also enjoys getting frisky in public, showing off in some nice lingerie, and definitely did it his own past trail before.

Homosexual Shark (05/CD)Today at 9:39 PM

ppl: fuck urself trace >:O trace: 8) 3 steps ahead of u

04 - So much headaches. He likes Clover. Really enjoys and respects him. Just as much as he shakes his head about him and is regularly disappointed. He's slowly trying to figure out how Clover ticks, with mixed successes. Certainly doesn't like Clover being so open and flirty with the Crew, but whatcha gonna do. Also shares a bunch of interests with him, and Clover is just generally easy to talk to. Most of the time.

pixel~! (04/Dualscar)Today at 9:48 PM

> slowly trying to figure out how clover ticks good fucking luck youre probably one of the only people who can do it

05 - The love of his life, and likewise his biggest headache. These two have been at it since they were teens, first butting heads, later butting butts, though they only actually confessed their feelings for each other like what? Three, four years ago? (I.e. Trace punched Fin in a wave of m!a-induced overboiling emotions and then told him he loves him.) They had a very gay marriage a year-ish ago after the timeline broke apart and back together a few times. Also, they've always had a very outwards flirty/open-ish (but also very jealousy-laden) relationship before becoming official, but only after Fin cheating with Itchy under the influence of drugs and Fin and Nepeta crushing on each other, they started working out something more open with rules I think. (If only Fin wasn't such a hot-and-cold type).

06 - It's complicated ™ . Die is so very much fun to provoke. He doesn't really enjoy the needle pain, but it's so satisfying to know it worked. But also he respects Die a lot, for being one of the more reasonable members of the Felt (most of the times), and there's good conversations to be had. But also he hurt Fin and that's definitely still on his mind, but Trace doesn't feel like poking that hornet's nest again anytime soon. But also it's so tempting to spook him and creep him out. P.S. Re: 06 - Die is also a very attractive man. Can't resist checking out that butt.

Percy (06/💀)Today at 9:56 PM

Die: I-- hm. -Presses knuckles to mouth :///T-

07 - ...

08 - As mentioned above, he respects her, and he definitely adores her more as a boss than Scratch ever could be. He also has some sympathies for her (after all she was the Queen of Derse, now serving some human raisin and his mob), though he's fairly certain she doesn't need that. She is terrifying, yes, but rarely unfairly so. He's glad that Fin turned down the insolence that gets him hurt. He generally tries to stay on her good side, as long as she's willing to tolerate his excentricities

09 - He does great work, both in medicine and tailoring. He keeps them all safe, and taught Trace some of the basic necessities. Probably got a few lingerie requests from Trace. But you'll have to order Trace down personally if you ever want to fix up his coat or suits. He deeply respects Stitch. For now. If he ever heard about the romancing Droog, he would feel deeply personally insulted and betrayed, for all that has happened between him, Nepeta and Droog before. If he heard that Stitch gave away information to Stitch, all trust would be broken. You're a god damn old desperate fool and Droog is playing you like a fiddle. You're endangering all of us. Except probably Scratch who will be perfectly safe and fine. Good job.

10 - where u

11 - it could be so beautiful

12 - yeah okay

13 - Sweet summer child. Biscuits deserves to be anywhere else but in the Felt. He doesn't have a lot of common ground with Biscuits, but he admires how well Biscuits does for all he does and feels and fears. Keep it up, soft cookie boy. He's not as perplexed by the oven and some others may be. It's just a weird tool. The timeline has literally exploded before. Much surprise. So shocking.

14 - potentiallly too trigger happy, can probably stay away

15 - Fin stop trying to bang the big guy

00 - That motherfucker. What a tool. He hates Scratch. But he also learned to have a good amount of respect for Scratch and his methods. That won't stop Trace from testing the boundaries again and again. He has actually lost most of his fear for any punishment (most fear that remains is what Scratch could do to the other), but he still tries to be careful to not risk any. He'll follow Scratch's orders just fine. He may not always like it, but he does his job well, damn it. Partially because he hopes it helps dodging any other less favorable assignments.

Damara - What did she just say. No reallly, didn't understand it.

Handy - Oh sweet ram queen. Frankly, Trace respects and adores her, but he doesn't commonly associate her with more than chores and cooking. He knows she can be dangerous somehow, but he hasn't seen much of that yet. He also usually doesn't get to talk much with her. But he knows she can see and speak with ghosts (and she helped him contact and make peace with his dead lil brother).

LE - He can stay wherever he's at.

Caliborn - Same hat. He's loud, rude, and just looks exhausting.

Nepeta - Sweet sweet sweetpeta. His beloved moirail. Met her when he accidentially almost drowned her in a river, and bought her sushi to make up for it. It took him a while to really figure out the details of what a moirallegiance is like, but he's got it as good as a human could now. He loves her a lot, even if she can give him as much of a headache as Fin sometimes. (She also helps with dealing with them though.) He really didn't want her to join the Felt, for all the danger, pain, Droogs and Scratches. But he's also glad she did and is around so much now. He'd love to say he'll do anything to protect her, but he knows she can kick anyone's ass at least 3 times better than he ever could. They especially share their passions for 3s, watching people, and seafood.

#ooc #backstory #relationships

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